whats up whats up whats up

We really kill that term na, 'whats up'.  I realise, more often than not, the words just slip out of my mouth and all I want to do is some matrixy move to get them back in and swallow.

Why, because I really do not want to know what is up with some people. I need to force myself to say HELLO instead of 'what's up', it is Not a substitute.

Hello doesn't lead to, "don't ask yaar, I have 99 problems and a bitch is one". What's up does. 

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I have an airconditioner behind my chair at work and I'm forced to sit under its freeze ray directed spitefully at me the entire day because my whole floor depends on this one shit machine with no way of controlling temperature. I HATE YOU AIRCONDITIONER AND STUPID OFFICE.

Ok, if it troubles you so much why don't you just move?

The office or the airconditioner? The former is undiscussable. The latter, well I have a window seat brah. The view isnt much but it is a view and it lets me know what time of the day it is and allows me a space to stare out of while I day dream.  In my Bombay office there was no such window and I'm sure the guy next to me assumed I found him super attractive (given all my day dreaming).

Ok boring next.

---

I sometimes wonder how people fall asleep so trustingly. You switch off while asleep, don't you ever question if you'll wake up again?

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Jute

I have an idea, well it's a joke really.

Let me run you through it.

Scene 1:
Lady walks by in a saree.
Other lady comments "oh lovely saree, what is it".
Lady in saree says "Jute".
A crow attacks her.

Scene 2:
A child walks by with a tiffin box and water bottle in a bag.
A lady, presumably his teacher, comments "my Ramu, that's a smart bag, what is it".
Child says "Jute Miss"
A crow attacks him.



We end with,
Jute Bole Kauwa Kaate

*Applause*

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Not everyone you meet
has the potential to make, or break you
But there are those who do.

How much are you willing to open your eyes and curtail your brain.

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Who'dhavethunk growing up would feel sluggish, would feel anything.

At the end of some days I feel like, man, today was one of those days from which there is no going back. I have crossed a bloody threshold and there is no growing young to make up for this.  Like the day I cleaned my house, through and through. It was done, there was no going back to the me before the clean up.

But there has been only two or three such instances when it feels quick and painless. Otherwise, it feels more like slowly pulling off a broken nail. Can't let it hang there, have to voluntarily and slowly tear it off.

Sometimes I think this bothers me so much that I rush headfirst into something I've labelled and stored in my mindhouse (not a mind palace mind you) as "Grown Up Stuff (Misc.)".  Just to beat the slugginess. Tear the nail off.

Then suddenly I'm in the middle of a conversation about what return gifts should be given to which aunt for my house warming, and I just want to run to my parents, ask them to handle it and sit in front of the TV while they do. 


---


It's 2014 guys.  I haven't blogged in a while.  This year I'm super optimistic about, but most of this year has been me being sick, very sick, sick again and mildly blue.  I'm still super optimistic.  Happy optimistic 2014 to you (and me).


---


I spent a lot of money on acquiring some Harry Potter Lego Sets. I've got mixed feelings about it.  Largely positive though.


---


I have a craving for gold bangles.  Does that happen? Have you seen the price of gold? Sigh.

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Im so tired of this job, so bored, I just want out, I feel its killing me not so softly.

Quit then no

Eh no, Im just being a spoilt lazy brat.

It's ok to put your foot down sometimes

Yes, but I just want to put my feet up.

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It crept up on her quietly this time, with no warning. 

She was reading a book on her flight home. It was a good book. Mort by Terry Pratchett. She'd read it before, laughed out loud. But this time she found herself taking it very seriously.

She shut it halfway just as the flight was about to land. She looked up and swallowed hard. Quite suddenly she was aware of the countless strangers around her. Living breathing sweating people. Each looking different from the other, each with an entire history an entire life she knew nothing of and will never know anything of.

So? So what so what so what. She shook herself. The lady next to her grunted her disapproval and went back to drooling on the window. Argh, so what, why did it feel so weird. She turned to her right, and an old muslim gentleman on the other side turned left and stared straight at her.

She was the first to look away. She was surprised to see how much that had shaken her. Was he still looking? What if she hadnt looked away, would he have said something? Would what he said have changed her life?

She forced herself to look at him again, he was reading a newspaper. No. He isn't some messenger. No, reality as she knew isn't slipping away into crazy. Everyone's just normal doing normal things. Turbulence.

Is it going down? Will this plane crash? Are these thoughts you have when you know somehow that you're going to die? She grips her seat handles hard. She notices that the man to her right counting something with his fingers. What? What is it. What is it. 

It's nothing. She is pleading with her brain to stop with the drama. The flight lands just fine. She can't get her heart to stop pounding. 

She looks down at her hands, turns them over. Stares at her palms. She doesn't know why that action always grounds her, stops her from screaming.

She calms down, looks up. 

She screams.

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I have a way, for us all to be happy

for us all to feel fine, to be satisfied

 

It involves us following a rule,

a principle, that might help us get by

 

say it with me.

I am a rock, you are an island.

 

I am a rock, I have no feelings

you are an island, you need no friends.

I am a rock, I have no opinion

you are an island, you need no help

 

I cant bring myself to follow this rule though,

I believe more in

 

I am some fruit squash, you are a slurpie.

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