Your Pickup Line Is

You look so hot that you must be real reason for global warming.

The Magical Pick Up Line Generator

the question is... would it work? hmmm...

You Are a Trifle

No doubt, you have many intricate layers. But deep down, you're a little squishy.

What Holiday Food Are You?

tee hee!

This is the Hour of Lead --
Remembered, if outlived,
As Freezing persons, recollect the Snow --
First -- Chill -- then Stupor -- then the letting go.

Emily Dickinson.

There will be a time when you’ll have come to terms with it all. The despair that lurks behind that enforced optimism won’t bother you anymore. Like the child who grows up and learns to walk to the bathroom at night without switching all the lights on. Gives me hope, this.

The Movie Of Your Life Is A Black Comedy

In your life, things are so twisted that you just have to laugh. You may end up insane, but you'll have fun on the way to the asylum. Your best movie matches: Being John Malkovich, The Royal Tenenbaums, American Psycho

If Your Life Was a Movie, What Genre Would It Be?

And there I was, looking contentedly out of the window, the winter sun on my arm and face, still warm in the afterglow…and then it hit me. What if? What if it doesn’t turn out according to plan? What if all I’ll ever be, all I’ll have…is this?

The only thing that makes the present tolerable now is the possibility of a future, the possibility that it will all get better, bigger. I console myself saying that this can’t be me, this can’t be it. That somehow I’m probably meant for something better. But what if I’m not?

OF REPRESSION AND WHAT NOT...

Wouldn’t it be nice if one day you could walk up to that guy who’s totally oblivious to you and say, “You know what? I really don’t like you at all, and even if I’m currently acting like I do, I will get over it soon. And soon I shall be thinner, with flawless skin and perfect hair, and way hotter than I am now. And then I wont have time of day for you.” No? Too juvenile?

Yeah that’s what I thought too. The only thing that gets me by these days?... That soon there will be a time when I shall move on and obsess about someone else. Yes please don’t judge me. It’s true. I live my life from one, one sided crush to another. What was that again? At 21? Yes at 21? What are you goggling at? Am pretty sure there are other 21-year-old s like me somewhere. Yes, other than on reality TV shows called Can’t Get a Date.

Han so where was I again? Old school crushes. So I found this guy on orkut. The guy who I thought was the one. The one who’d make my knees go weak at 14. The cute guy in ze maths tuitions. And twas so sad. I mean I had obsessed about it forever. How he’d suddenly come across me on one of my good hair days (at 21. not 15. Good hair days didn’t exist until I was 18) (Why is good hair day important? Coz there must be one last toss of silky hair before you walk away) and here he was with a nice artsy looking-out of-window pic and it didn’t bother me. I mean I couldn’t even be bothered to orkut-stalk the guy. (Yes, well except for reading all his scraps the first time. But that’s it. You get it, don’t you? Just once. No psychotic following of conversations from one scrap book to another!!)

Sigh. What was depressing about this bit? It reminded me that am getting old. Even crushes are not the same anymore. Where is ze drama? The magic. The tee-hee school girly giggling?


Or it’s the men probably. Something wrong with all of them. Yep that’s what it is. Or is just the Calcutta variety?

Your Famous Last Words Will Be:

"Goodbye. I am leaving because I am bored."

What Will Your Famous Last Words Be?

Small world they say. And i've said so too. Countless times. It always amazes me though. How everything goes round a corner or maybe another and comes back to where it started. A neat little circle it all is.

The random blogger who was on a friends's friend's blogroll turns out to be the one he is hitting on.
And I remember thinking, Gosh, I like this blog.
Gosh, she is so me.

Gosh, she has something that's mine.

WHATEVER...


I must be dead i think. Or very very numb. And thats not the God-my-life-is-so-depressing-am-protecting-myself-by-going-numb kind of numbness.

Its the normal garden variety numbness. Or the not-so-garden-variety numbness. At least everyone around me still seems to feel. The women at work who are having love come arranged marriages. (yes i kid you not, concept exists)

Tis concept where your parents pick techie-working-in-blue-chip-company-with-brilliant-prospects for nice little convented homely girl.
And the two decide to fall conveniently in love and call each other shona and have very dramatic fights during lunch time. Post lunch time they cry on their PCs, then fix their make up and get back to work.

Even those women who are pining away for their ex fiances who they met via ****** matrimonial. Pining has such a lot of drama attached to it. There is no such great drama in my life.

But i digress. This is not about them. This is about me. And how i don't feel anymore. I dont laugh. Or cry. OR, yes, get this, get angry. I dont have the energy to react anymore. Or to develop an opinion. Or if i actually have one, i am not bothered enough to actually to state it.


Tis the worst form of evil methinks.

HEART, we will forget him!
You and I, to-night!
You may forget the warmth he gave,
I will forget the light.

When you have done, pray tell me,
That I my thoughts may dim;
Haste! lest while you’re lagging,
I may remember him!


Emily Dickinson.

sigh!

The one you try to keep in place, slips and calmly walks away. Plastic doesnt stick too long. And am running out of glue.

Jaded Working Person Number N. and so those glasses broke.

so am working woman now. and in a while too, I'll get bored of it all and will be the Jaded Working Person who just wants to go back to college. but not now.

for now its fun dressing ethnic every day. and wearing make up. (yus yus, I wear make up to work, all subtle n pretty). and buying the morning newspaper before I board the bus, and feeling like grown up important person. like those pretend games we'd play as kids. as if it isnt my life but someone else's.

am the youngest at work, and its fun, because everyone has assumed that the rookie/ new-recruit-fresh-out-of-college must be flatterd and encouraged. so i gladly soak in all compliments about how brilliant i am and how i am apparently, doing realy well. and ooooh the office lunch. yum.

It's all supposed to be a stop-gap before I move on to a post grad course, and obviously I shouldn't like it as much as I do. but gosh its such fun!!

she thought she was pretty good at the grin-and-bear-it thing. and that she had it covered pretty well. no one told her otherwise, poor her.

so there she was, confessing all to strangers with half an ear, falling apart at innocent comments, so wrapped up in her own that she'd forgotten how to be a friend, and yet deluded enough to believe that she was holding up fine.

And she was too. when on her own that is. it's the relating-to-her-self-via-other-people bit that got to her. like that silly riddle they'd play in school. how do you make this line smaller without using an eraser? simple. just draw a bigger line beside it.

it's all gone now. thankfully. it's been neatly mended. and what was falling apart is whole again. hallelujah!

umbrellas, methinks, should be bright and cheery. it should add colour to the normally gloomy rainy day. i mean there is something so... well...appealing about colourful umbrellas isnt there? no? what are you trying to say? that you never put any thought in you choice of raingear?

anyway, so where was i? yes brightly coloured umbrellas. i quite like them. except for today. my umbrella is a very pretty darkish (also very bright) pink.
and i was wearing something red. and had a red bag. with a pink umbrella (yes i know i've said this before. i tend to get repetetive under stressful conditions) and there was this huge gang school kids (boys! so what if they were adoloscents. and i'm old enough to not be bothered). and it just occurred to me (and of course to other people present at the scene) that i looked something like an advertisement for, ahem, a certain kind of contraceptive.

oh, the humiliation of it all. my boring black chattri. am never deserting you again. sigh!

JANE DOE

the thing that had mattered to her most, then, was that it was real . 'S' was real . Here was one person who didnt see her for what she was maybe, but at least he saw her. She'd be out with him, all giddy, flushed and happy and all she could think then was, "yay i'm a couple too". It wasn't inside her head anymore. There were real fights, real tears ( oh well, at least real reasons to cry about), real conversations( so what if it involved her explaining how Robin Cook wasnt science fiction).

She doesnt miss him now that he's gone. No really. She doesnt.
What she doesnt like is that she's back inside her head again. Back to one-sided relationships. One-sided conversations.
One-sided fights with people who don't know her. Back to invisibility.

Of Shrinking Aims And Violets

Have never been a big fan of stretch targets. Hate the concept. As if the actual target (if you have one that is) isnt hard enough already , matters must be made more complicated by setting goal thats even further away! Well thats not me.


Had decided from pretty early on, not to want too much from life. And so far this policy had worked pretty well. Dont expect too much. Dont actually get too much. But thats alright. Its all good.

Figured the same should work for college. Set very very achievable goal And I might even "get" more than I asked for. I did actually. In more ways than one.


And of violets.
Am not soul-of-party. Am not star material(which is okay, really) But have never exactly been the wallflower either. Too much attention is unnerving. But none at all(!!!) is even more so.
I dont exist. Never did.

Stayed up all night and all we talked about was her and him. And how it won't work . And how she misses him. And how nice it is to be held. Just held.

No moping I'd thought. No using guy as crutch because i know it wont work. But oh must it always work? What's so wrong if it doesnt?

Clouds appear free of care
And carefree drift away.
But the carefree mind is not to be found
To find it, first stop looking around.

Wang An Shih

pujo asche. yay! will mope no more.