The year that went by

My last post for this year. 2011. Big in so many ways for me. I’ve lived, loved and been on a roller-coaster ride like never before. Many “claim” that we’ve another sad little year to live, before all becomes dust. Maybe, but the whole point of this “all important year” is going to be to live each of these 366 days (yay, leap year) like they you were actually going to run out of days to live.

Here I am, on the last day of this “fascinating” year, tapping my heart out on some unfamiliar keys. I normally type these blogs on my laptop, but not today my friend. I’m tapping away at my fabulous new iPad nicely resting on my outstretched leg, which happens to nurse a badly sprained ankle.

The year that just went by, probably the most important year of my life. January landed me in a new job, uncharted territory and bright new dreams. The biggest change so far. From a paranoid early bird who ate the worm, I became a night owl, who kept a watchful eye. Luckily, I l.o.v.e what I do now. I’m happy, charged up and raving to go! I met some wonderful people, who gradually promoted themselves into my best friends! I think “working from home” is a pain, and holidays are to be taken only when necessary. Yes, I’ve become psycho like that.

Leh happened like magic! I went on a self realisation over drive. I learned to love selflessly. I learned that I was a very little person who was up against a massive, majestic universe, and I came back determined to fight. Leh imbibed self confidence in me, making me look at myself very differently.

From the mountains to the calm of the seas. 2011, you showed me all. I love the mountains, I love the sea. I love sun, sand, waves and the drowning sun. I learned about depth, of emotion. Of fighting my feelings, and letting them go. I let people go, and let feelings get washed away.

I’ve also determined my place in people’s lives this year. My friends, whom I love, love me back with all they have. Some other friends, I’ve had to let go of, are still special to me, but I know that they’d rather be left alone, without my presence in their lives. “You know where to find me if you need me, ‘cos I’ll always be there.”

2011 also managed to be the year of hook ups, engagements, weddings and big announcements!! Some friends started dating each other, some others declared their love for the other, some “meet the parents” events! Some Friends got engaged, and I knew for once they were doing the right thing.

The year that was, happened to be a sine wave. Some extremely happy moments, to some dark rough phases. I’ve braved you 2011, and fought with you hard. I think I won!

I’ve been a good person this year too, tried very hard not to hurt anyone, made the best of each day, tried very hard to make people around me smile. I think I’ve done a decent job of it all. Phew!!

I have no resolutions for the year that we are yet to see. I’m going to live each day as it unfolds itself to me. My crazy sixth sense tells me it’s going to be BIG!! I hope it brings joy to each of you. Here’s to the year that went by, to my crazy friends and lovely family! Here’s to the Kolaveri, the madrasan, and to your new beginnings.

Oh, before I forget, lovely ad by coke this time around. Here’s wishing you some “umeed wali dhoop, sunshine wali aasha”!! Believe in a better tomorrow I say! Peace.

(I will try to figure out star wars and trek, stop sighing on posts, and write more often)

Love,
Pzes

Wishing I was a little girl, all over again.

November. Occasionally rainy. Mostly dry. Onset of winter. You can claim we don’t really have a “winter” here in Bangalore, but trust me, it gets really cold. Misty in the wee hours of the morning. My skin becomes dry, posing perfect reasons to believe that all those winter cream ads finally make sense. November, marks the end of September. I hope someone woke up Green Day on time, since they begged, pleaded, cajoled, and shook us all up. If they haven’t woken up yet, I’m sure they’re going to be in some deep slumber all this month.

I also learned this month, about this thing called the Movember. Mo(stache) November, where one spreads awareness about issues which concern Men and their health. Causes are supported, money is raised, and donated to the appropriate. Interesting. Sport a “mo” guys, but uhhh.. make sure you shave it off by December. Shave me off, when November ends. 

I’m also thinking about Thanksgiving. Well, not really Thanksgiving, but all the sales that follow. The Friday and Monday after Thanksgiving kicks off the shopping season officially. I can’t stop thinking about what to get myself. Hell, I can’t make up my mind. That new phone? My phone officially needs to behave officially. I need email on my phone. How complex has my life become! I need a phone, and I need a G.O.O.D one. Samsung S II ? Everyone is crooning about the iPhone 4S. I don’t need to talk to Siri and complicate my life some more.

This is one November, and back in the day, there was another. In school. November was special. I remember school well enough, somehow college seems to be hazy. Maybe it was because college was impersonal, if I may say. I don’t think they made you feel special enough. College was a bunch of lectures, important notes, photocopies, tests and exams. I know I’ve made my best friends there, but if they weren’t there, college would be pretty darn.. how do i explain this.. Lacuna (which means blank, btw, word for the day).

Back in School, today was s.p.e.c.i.a.l. November 14th. Children’s day. Every year, for 12 straight times, this was possibly the most fun day that existed in school. To watch students goofing around all through the year was one thing, to watch your teachers goofing around was something else. I remember standing quietly at the morning assembly, the previous day, when it was officially announced that there was something incredibly special being organized for the next day. The announcement normally made waves of excitement ripple through, you could see it in my school mates faces, if you looked around.

The next day, I’d carry lesser books. I’d make sure I carried books of the teachers who scared me, and would genuinely be pissed off (for the lack of a mild word), and the rest were kept behind. The assembly that day, was usually highly abnormal. The prefect conducting assembly, and only a bunch of teachers in sight. Where were they? I’d look around, peering into windows, if I could see anyone. After painfully standing through a plethora of news readings, thoughtful thoughts for the day, random quizzes, we’d be directed towards the auditorium.

Another agonizing wait, till the whole school was seated, they’d finally let the show begin. Starry eyed, and with awe, I’d watch my teachers put up a show. They’d sing, dance, run around, do crazy things, and set off ripples of laughter. My “dangerous” teachers were up there too, holding hands with the others, running around. They behaved exactly as we would, every single day. An hour later, we’d be proud. Proud, because the teachers we see everyday actually put up a cracker of a show. Proud, that they were my teachers! Proud about my favorite ones, surprised about the quieter lot. Makes me think about how proud they’d feel to see us on stage, each time, 40 times over, for each student in their class.

Today, I’m utterly bored on Children’s day. I’ve grown up. My life is complex now. I loved being a Child. I didn’t have to think about work, or how I’m going to save money. I’d not worry about what to wear to work, or to meet my friends over the weekend. I’d not care about what shoes I wore, or about how I’d dazzle and shine all day through. I’d not worry about how my career is shaping up, or how I’d manage my time. All that mattered, on this day, was that I was happy. My teachers allowed us to have fun, and showed us how its done! Like a rockstar!

I wish I were back in school today. I wonder what they’re doing this year. Here’re a couple of things that I remember from a few Children’s day celebrations. Add your favorite ones in the comments, this sure seems like a fun day, at last.

Mrs V missing dentures, Mrs J as a puppet, the fashion show, Mrs P and her special act (she donned our uniform once), the Physical Exercise teacher being  the center of all shows, the mimicry, the sensational stories, the dances, and the perfection. 

Here’s wishing that little boy/girl within you, a very Happy Children’s Day!

The Trust Machine.

So there’re surveys. There’re surveys of how many times you say “I love you”, or “How clean your city is” or “Diwali with crackers/just lights”. Surveys become statistics, statistics are parsed by psychologists, who make up some theory about the evolving human brain, IQ, EQ, SQ, DQ.. I think these exist. Some random people pick these stats up, and use them in those presentations they make, to a random audience, who couldn’t care less. Its easy to make pie charts of absolute rubbish. “How Powerpoint Savvy Are you?” 100%. Very cool.

Somehow, I wonder if they forgot to take a survey about the “most abused word/phrase in the world”. I’m sure you’re going to believe that it has to be I’m sorry or the famous I love you. Personally, and honestly, I’d like to believe that it has to be “Trust me”. You can plead or forgiveness, or emphasize love very easily, I’m sure. Those phrases can be used at the drop of a hat, and most people now already know that those words are hollow. Soundless. Void of Feelings. When someone says they’re sorry, we often just brush it off. I love you’s are so easy now. Tap Tap Tap on the phone, and its done. You can love a person, in different ways, so that is forgiven.

Them: Trust me, I know where the best Ice Cream is.
Me (In My head) : Why? You don’t even know the kind I like.

Them: Trust me, star wars is going to be EPIC!
Me (In my head) : Uh Huh. I don’t like the type. Help!

Them: Trust me Darling, I’ve tonnes of more experience than you.
Me (In my head): That’s different! This situation is so unlike any that you’ve ever had! How do I take your word for it?!

Trust me, with your eyes locked onto another persons. A killer expression. How does one break away from the gaze? How do you tell the person you don’t trust him/her? So, you do. You trust the person so much, that you forget to think, that they may not have meant it in the first place. For me, someone asking me to put some trust on them is going to take a dollop of commitment. The phrase is more than just some random honey coated way of speaking. Its more than just asking for something, that I can lend. Sometimes you don’t just lend, you give away a part of you, only based on trust. Sometimes you trust the person so much that you hand over the reins, and ride on trust. #Epic #Crash #and #Burn
#Never #Again

If anyone, I mean ANYONE, ever does this to me, here’s what to expect. So thank you, you can now leave and prove yourself first.

Them: Trust me, I know what I’m doing. I’ll be there to watch your back, I’ll be there for you.
Me (In my head) : Yes! You’ll forget what you’re saying in exactly 230729 seconds.
Me (On my face) : Left eye becomes small, Right eyebrow goes sky high. The Great Indian Shak ki Nazar.

For your eyes only (Part II)

You might need some context here. If you haven’t already, then go read the first part to “For your eyes only”. Click HERE to read. 

September 2011. Already. Saturday Morning. She ruffled the newspaper into place, cursing under her breath. The newspaper boy never seemed to deliver the newspaper the way she liked it. Neat, folded. He normally folded it three times over, so he could toss it along the passage, and land it on her doormat. “Lazy #(&$, couldn’t he walk 5 meters down the hallway to drop it on my mat instead”. The newspaper. Her favorite part of the day, when she’s curl into a ball and read through carefully. She liked distracting herself.

The scams. The saga. The crazy people she’d read about. Her favorite section though, was the local news section. The whole section where she could read about what was going on in her city. The new play that was being enacted that weekend. The art exhibition where she could go, admire, and probably pick up something nice to adorn her walls. Her Walls. The walls she’d built around her, after she’d parted ways with S. The apartment she’d rented, was brand new. She knew exactly what kind of place she’d wanted.

“A huge balcony. French windows maybe. Glass partitions to the balcony could be a plus. An additional balcony would be nice. Some place to put the pots and plants, with exactly 3-4 hours of direct sunlight. A window sill in the kitchen was a must. Many bare white walls. Lots of room to hang paintings.” The real estate agent, puzzled as he was, showed her one flat after another. He ran out of energy, trying to convince this “crazy lady” that the best apartments were the ones with done up kitchens, compact storing places, and extra parking lots. She’d insist on looking for these impractical artistic things. The agent was soon running out of ideas, till he came across this flat. Thankfully for him, she’d loved it. The walls were blue and yellow, but she’d been convinced. The best buy!

She insisted on painting the walls. White. A clean slate where she could play around with her colors. She’d already pictured the sizes of the paintings she’d buy. So visits to any art exhibition was pretty much a norm every weekend. She could spend her evening being pretentious and picking out the brightest, random piece of art she liked. She’d narrowed down on which show she’d go to and felt better about it. She looked at her wall. She’d started hanging those paintings from left to right. “Half done. I’m spending a fortune on this.” She smiled. Shaking the thought off her head.

If a stranger had walked into the room, he’d have noticed a pattern in her choice. March, when she’d moved in first, she had depressing dark pieces put up. Black, harsh. Agonizing. As one looked closely, the paintings changed to those depicting anger. Then she had a couple of very drab, disinterested pieces. The pattern had now shifted. She was buying paintings which made her happy now. There was one, in particular that would catch a strangers eye. Just a simple rectangular canvas depicting an open meadow, and a girl running wild through the tall grass. The only expression painted on the girls face was a smile. The rush of wind through her hair, the speed, was symbolic. Free Spirit, was what she said the painting was called.

March to September. Six months, and she’d learnt how to vent. She believed that writing what she thought about would set her free. Six months, and she’d written countless letters to S. He would know exactly what she was thinking. Today she had that urge to write to him again. He was important. Her friends, had given up. “She’ll need to do things her own way”, they’d decided. She dashed to her little table, overlooking a french window. She opened up the window, sat down, pulled out her pot of ink.

S,

September’s here. September, where we’d planned to go on an official holiday. I’m still going, by the way. September seems a little steep, but I’ve everything planned out for October. My bunch of three, and I are heading out on an expedition. We’re headed to Bali! Yes, we’re inspired by Eat, Pray and Love. Pretentious shit! As always. They’ve stuck by my side, you know. As always. Nothing’s changed. 

I bought a new painting again last weekend. I’ve spent a bomb on these pieces. I know its crazy, and its something I’d have never thought about splurging on. I’ve kind of realized that they soothe me. The cruder, the better. Strange. I bought a painting of a girl running wild through a meadow. She’s smiling, enjoying the wind, and the speed. She’s running along a slow meandering river. I have the broadest smile when I look at it. Happy thoughts fill my head. 

I wonder often about how different things are now. I suddenly stepped out of my comfort zone. It was hard, and crazy. I can’t repeat how hard those days were. I wonder what I’d have been doing today, if I were still making life difficult for you. :) 

I wonder about how you’re doing. I wonder if you wonder too. I’ve only happy memories of us. Its like this selective memory option which I’ve chosen. I wonder if you think about how life would be different. I hope things are better now. I have no real way of finding out, but that’s a path I won’t tread.

Here’s an amazing excerpt from a poem by Keats:

When by my solitary hearth I sit, And hateful thoughts enwrap my soul in gloom;

When no fair dreams before my “mind’s eye” flit, And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;

Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed, And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head!

Here’s To Hope, S. To you, and to me. 

Love. 

She looked at that envelope, where she’d written out his postal address, and affixed a stamp on it. She neatly folded the letter, and stuffed it into the envelope carefully. She’d written, For your eyes only at the back. She dropped it on the table, picked it up again, ran her fingers along the edges, thinking. She made up her mind, soon after. She unlocked a drawer alongside her table. She put the envelope where it belonged. Neatly. There it lay, among many others addressed to S. This one at the top of the heap. She sighed, closed this drawer and locked it up.

“The Piercing”

See, this post requires a heavy title. Its a rather serious thing to discuss. Some love it, some.. not so much. Some think its an essential part of their being, some don’t care about its existence. For some, its art and for some others, its just something they’d like to get rid of. If you haven’t guessed already, “duh!” to you, and I’m talking about piercings that people sport. I’m mostly referring to the ones people get on their ears, any other thoughts, can stay in your own heads. Please.

So, we Indians, seem to take great pride in our ears. Here, little girls and boys alike, get their ears pierced when they’re around 1 year old. Boys, not so much, but I’ve seen it. Years later, when they’re grown up men, they’re often asked by other “men”

Man: Dude, pierced your ears sometime, bro?

Bro: Yeah, bro. Long time ago. (Time of piercing, not mentioned, of course!)

Man: Cool bugga’! Its shut now bro. Got bored, eh?

Bro: Yeah man! I got bored. I’m thinking about getting one on my chin. Or eyebrow.. what say? Want to get one with me? (Men, can be so weird, sometimes).

Man: Yeah! Lets do it!

Many “That’s what she said” moments later, Man and Bro get those elusive piercings. Tattoo’s follow, and thus their “friendship” evolves into a tale, of two “bros”. They lived happily ever after.

See how essential they are? Besides, these guys bonded over it. *Sniff* *sob*

Now the elusive ear piercing probably comes from the Lords. DD 1 probably had a lot to do with as well. Lord Ram sported earrings, all through the series.

So did Ramanand Sagar’s Shree Krishna.

Uhmm, you might want to look at this Vikram Aur Betaal pic as well.

Then came Cable TV and with it the saga of Hindi Soaps. Tulsi’s earrings had to be grander than the other woman! The vamps were recognized, because they wore HUGE earrings. Really. They had to look like they were dripping in diamonds to look evil. (I won’t be evil, I promise. Please shower diamonds on me, somebody).

Back to the whole talk about me, which is the point of this blog (mostly), I got my ears pierced when I was tiny and don’t remember anything about. Then they magically closed, when I was around 5 years old. So off I was sent to Mysore, to get them pierced again. Double Childhood Horror! What I’ve failed to figure out, till today is – Why Mysore? Why not a doctor? Why that man?

So I still remember that thin-nish, tall-ish man with the salt and pepper hair, that white lungi and half sleeved white shirt who put me on a chair and tried to prick a hole through my ear. I screamed! Yelled! Kicked! Howled! All in all, I put in a very strong kick or 2. The man managed. Somehow. I’ve 2 perfectly pierced ears now. God Bless that patient man. Doesn’t discount the fact that I’m scarred for life with this memory.

Now for the Million dollar question. I want to get my ear pierced again. Right on top of my ear, in the cartilage portion. Can I do it, without kicking up a fit? Sigh.

Thinking about..

* Running Wild and free behind those Pashmina sheep I found en route to Pangong. Catching them. Giving them one big cuddle.

* Smelling the first rains again. Its raining and raining some more, but that smells been washed away. Wait. There was a word for it. :| Damn.

* Sleeping in the cold, with many layers of blankets above me. Princess and the pea? Nope.

* Singing aloud with Baba Sehgal. Yes. This is a different kind of Saigal Blues.. I’m all Sehgal. Thanda Thanda pani. 90′s rap babayyy!

* Singing stupid flop songs. As if I don’t already, at work. The cubicle-mate comments on how I think of these random flop songs to hum along.

* Closing my eyes and feel eternal peace. It happens, no?

* Cribbing about how men like Star Wars, for no palpable reason, whatsoever. Trek? Wars?  Argh, the confusion. Not that it matters, but some of you are going to turn red with rage. Then I’ll play this http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R55e-uHQna0 - and say “Kids, tch tch” and move on.

* Rewinding, by about a year, and set things right! You’re still my favorite, you!

* Falling in love with Patrick Swayze all over again. Sigh. He’s the *wait, sigh* best!

* Dancing like there’s no tomorrow. I do that sometimes. Well, not like people have seen that happen too much.

* Rapping people on their knuckles, so they take me seriously. *Evil*

* Running away to Leh. Alone.

* Becoming the “Single Female Traveller – With a cellphone”. Well, not that I have the guts yet.

* Writing a novel. Maybe. When I think my writing is mature enough. (Yes, it will be mushy).

* Hugging my best friends and telling them how much they mean to me! They do! :)

* Learning how to salsa, so I can put those dancing pangs to good use. Epic idea!

* Telling the cute guy exactly how cute he is! *sigh*

* Getting that taboo tattoo, exactly how I imagine it. *high hopes, considering my fear for the needle*

* Getting that pup I wanted.

* Clicking a pic of all my students while I’m teaching in class, without distracting them. *Invisible camera*

* Finally getting that Lomography Camera. Looks like I can handle it better than my current giant.

* Meeting those people I love, whom I’ve lost touch with.

* Telling my crush, exactly, how special he is. *Sigh*

* Telling dad, that most of this list up here, may not happen. So he needn’t worry too much.

Don’t believe in love

Really now, do we really know what love is? I’m talking about that thing which couples claim to be in. There are a couple of people who swear by it, I’m happy that it keeps you happy, but I’m not convinced. Love is like the God concept. We either believe and have faith or we are Atheists in our own way. I wouldn’t believe I’d swing so far to the other end, but I’m keeping that balance. God, has intrigued me, and made me want to believe in the energy and supreme force or power, and I’ll keep that pendulum from ticking, but Love – has me completely baffled.

Love, is a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person says one particular online dictionary. I wouldn’t entirely agree with the dictionary. Tender and passionate can be referred to as two ends of a scale, in a particular sense.

A very famous person will quote, if he could – Love is a myth propagated by movies. True! I’m not sure if people would be such strong believers, blind seekers, wild goose chase go-ers, haters, lovers, and everything else put together, had it not been for that romantic movie they watched one Saturday night. Its a good thing, although I don’t particularly agree anymore. Love is a good feeling to look forward to. The downside of love, is ugly.

For a moment, let me assume I do believe in love. Isn’t love supposed to last forever and ever? Isn’t it supposed to make you happy? Love makes people insanely sad sometimes. People claim that they’re in love at the drop of a hat, and then 7 months later, they’re done! They’re done serenading the same person they claimed to love. People who claim to love should actually hold their beau’s hand, and be their support system, right? Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do not believe this is the case. The minute one person believes that “this is it”, the other walks away, looking for something more exciting. I don’t believe in love.

When you’re in love, does that also come with loss of self respect? Love is supposed to be like a mutual admiration society, no? Why do I see that there is always one person who’s giving all the time, and the other taking. Why aren’t there expectations set right from the beginning. If you’re in love, these expectations should be a breeze to keep up. Are people that selfish in this time and age, that they’d profess their love for someone, and back out only because its not convenient? The other person is grappling in darkness, when you bow out of the “love”-ly relationship. Finding a foothold to pull oneself up is the hardest thing to do. You move on, but your ex-”lover” is still there, stuck in the same space and time. Does this mean you were selfish and you didn’t care? Does it mean you were messing around with someone’s emotions, but you’ve done the right thing by calling it off, before its too late? How late is too late? Its always too late, in love.

Its difficult to believe and I don’t.

The Quest to find Answers..

This mind is a funny place to be in. When I say “this” mind, I totally mean mine. My mind is like a little Devils workshop (notice, I said little – be happy ye’ friends who make fun of me). I’m always brewing up things, trying to think about things that make me happy, try and push things which disturb me into the background and treat those topics as non-entities in my life (who does that! *rolls eyes*). I simply believe that the world is as big as I can think about it. If you’ve heard the phrase “expand your horizon”, I always thought of it as pushing my imagination ahead by a mile, so literally, it would mean expanding my horizon, right? By a mile?

My head, as a whole, seems quite large. My voluminous hair, comes from Mom’s side I think. Wait, is it Dads side? I’m pretty sure I got the nicer hair gene. (sis, you can take the better nose gene ;) ) So, it makes my head look big, and considering I’m a rather tiny person, I’m always doing the head “pat-down”. People who don’t notice often enough – I often run my fingers through my hair, just to make sure that they’re sitting prettily (?), behaving itself, and looking normal. On some days, they just misbehave like its nobody’s business. Like they have a mind of their own, waving and running around in any wild way they like, and someone’s aptly called it a – Bad Hair Day. (Bad Hair! Sit Down you!) Also to be noted, is the very static nature of my hair. On these sullen, dry, frizzy hair days, you could rub a balloon on my hair and will be provided enough energy to help stick it on a wall. I give everyone a shocker, just by shaking hands with them. Sparks fly! Quite literally! Sigh these hairy problems. With all due love and attention, I love thee my mane!

From the mind to the hair problems, would seem rather weird, but the emphasis here was on certain problems that one has. I have many – hair problems, love problems, confusion, clueless-ness, problems in friends lives, problems with the cable guy, problems wondering why boys like star-wars (trek? what was it? scratches head) problems with x, y and z customers at work, issues, cases, tickets, karma, LIFE! The most common problem for me in a day, is checking my emails at work, and thinking – “Ok, that’s 3 truckloads and 2 auto’s full of work, now where do I start”. Then I trudge along. Sifting. Sorting. Panic-ing.

I went on the most beautiful holiday this year. Sitting by the Pangong Tso, I realized that my problems were not as humongous as I make them out to be. Once you sit by something so majestic, huge, and breath-taking, and you feel like you’re “little-r” than you’d imagined, your problems will seem insignificant. That place blew me away and filled me up with mixed emotions. The mixture of warmth and the cold, happiness and extreme sadness, worry and peace, was enough to confuse any intelligent mortal soul. I would’ve slipped into spiritual mode, and serious soul (sole? :P ) searching, had it not been for an answer I was looking for. I found an answer, and hid it away, and decided to implement it when the time was right. Here’s what I learnt – Letting go is as hard as painting a canvas is (for me). As soon as doubt arises, letting go will put someone at ease. Someone’s life will be less conflicted. As soon as someone will realize what you’re putting on the line, and appreciate you for it, it will make you a happier person.

Here’s a bit of Heaven for you!

Love,

Pzes

Shakin’ n a Stirrin’

Apologies for the Granny-post that I put up. I know I’ve been really zonked, wonked, plonked, stressed, messed and other such rhyming things.

When your room gets messy, so much stuff hidden away, so many books strewn around, so many cupboards overflowing, what would you do? Clean Up! Right? So out come those drawers with memories. Old photographs, special chocolate wrappers, gifts, cards, old notebooks with stuff written on the back, old music tapes, hand made cards, “notes”, gift wrapping paper, the tag which said “Happy Birthday”, cartoons of me, the old school prayer, some colored chalk, ribbons, and some more..

Open out those cupboards, pull out some books, some from Engineering which will never make sense. Its amazing to see how some of these have never been touched. Not one dog ear, not a brown stain. Then some other books, of another kind. Completely messed up, owing to the number of times they’ve been read and re-read! :) My fav section. These deserve some rearranging. Lined by order of Genre is a good idea, me thinks!

Rearrangement and shaking things up have started becoming mandatory for me now. Watching Delhi Belly, laughing so hard that my own belly hurt. Walking off in the slight drizzle alone, scared about what lies in store for me. Looking at one of my old crushes photos, which shows he’s “Married” and thinking –  Wow! I escaped that! :) Revamping the blogs theme, hoping things get bolder, better and crazier.

I’m here to deal with each day as it comes. Here’s to newer things and fresher perspectives. Loads to love to the old, whom I’ll always love a tad more than I do myself.

Cheers,
Pzes

Crazy Little Thing called Love

Before I begin my thesis, all the inspiration came from a certain blogger, who went all out to profess her love, and the little things that he does that makes her mush system go bananas! I loved her post and decided to write this. 

Disclaimer: No Assumptions must be made based on the content of this post. 

So, this love thing, is crazy alright. Its been a proven, re-proven and re^many times proven fact that people go crazy when they’re in love. I know that people fall in love many-many… (wait.. more emphasis)  MANY times in one lifetime. Not that I’m a big promoter of this, but it happens. There’s no ignoring that fact. Sometimes, it strikes you so hard, that it will not want to get away. Well, now that’s purely an issue of personal choice.

Love, strikes in many ways. Its different each time. Correct me if I’m wrong when I say, you feel different with different people. Here’s an excerpt thanks to my “shhhhaaaarap” observation skills. The ways people fall in love, what happens to them, and the likes of it.

Type 1 : Boy meets Girl. Love makes you completely crazy. You feel different things, you feel your head spin. Its an emotional gig , teenage flashback. You feel things you’ll probably never feel again.

Type 2: Boy meets Girl. They get to know each other. Things are crazy at first, things are out of order. Slowly, they settle down. The whirlwind dies down and things are mellow. Love makes you happy, calm.

Type 3: Boy meets Girl. There’s a sense of calm that follows. Its probably Smooth, jazz-like relationship. There is no “want” to meet everyday, no “need” to be constantly talking,  but at the end of a long, long day, they really want to talk to each other about how their day’s been, how they need some support, and that’s just love.

Type 4: Boy meets Girl. Further details are out of the scope of this blog, since this is a completely “entertainment channel” type of medium.

As I said, I’ve observed this. This is completely my opinion. My “Curious observer” side may not have picked up obvious simple types. Now maybe I’m just not cut out for it. I’m probably not cut out for simplicity and probably not cut out for love. :) All I know is, expressing love could happen very differently for each person. Love has no Boundaries, no rules, no definition. Amen.

The curious observer wants to know more.  Let me know what you think of love. I’m just trying to make sense of it. :)