I, like a lot of other people, am waiting for some time to make a great gesture proving my commitment to some principle or another, but I am annoyed at this stagy business. Why don't I just live properly?

Duty, commitment, faith, love and brotherhood; where are these in my life. I shirk my work, look for excuses to place my flaws on others, I live luxuriously and talk of equality. I talk of environmentalism but thats it, I just talk.

Ipshita, you're not a kid any more.

It's lovely to be yourself and sometimes not take oneself so seriously. I had such a hoot reading the last two posts. I could have been Sandhya. Oof, a harsh self reproach that is (evil grin)

I spent a marvelous time day before yesterday night, reading some stuff I had written before and writing some new pieces. It comes to me again that I really enjoy writing. I hope one day I'll be old enough to write properly. I'm too childlike in experiences, it shows.

Ah, its nice to be me.

Edit: Just rereading the earlier posts again. I cringe and laugh alternatingly

Depression has blossomed on my heart like a fungus
It's a stinking bloom, large and red like a Rafflesia in November and flies come in thick clouds till it folds and breaks in swads of decay
It's a truffle in the oak roots waiting for a hound to find and lay it at her master's feet
But everytime I am just the forest floor, mother to my thoughts.

I tried to be coleridge.
I'm not.
Here are my efforts

People poplars on the street
Run them over like they're meat.
I will shriek with holy glee
And spur you on your killing spree.
Leaps and thrills from every count
New lease on life from every pain
You bow before my cold command
Again, again, again, AGAIN!
The lift, the spin, the go rush in
The thud the crack of living bone
I lift my head as tears roll down
With numinous joy I moan.

I am an opiated poet. Happiness would be at the core of myself only replaced by baser emotions. Blame my doctor and blame dinner. the experience is interesting but not all that fun. I'd prefer a good book/

Growl

I am sick of having nothing new to say about me. There is no good news where I am concerned. Any update is always a slide from the previous position. Today I'm more than a little sick. There you go. Bad news of the day.

I forgot

Terry Pratchett has been diagnosed with alzheimers. He says he's not dead yet but I was in such a funk when I heard. Even now I am most disturbed as I type this. I am not ready to let him go.

This is the month of the stars

They call to me.

In today's news, radiation from a blackhole impact nearby galaxy, read all about it.

Elusive, large, beautiful and real. A simple happiness pervades me in the vindication that I really am nothing and all my mistakes and failures are such a blip on the magnificence of the universe.

Predictably all this brings me back fondly to star trek. I don't think ever we'll ever be able to travel as the monarchs of the stars. The three year old iside me is lying face down in the carpet, kicking and sobbing and screaming why not. It was such a beautiful utopic series. Will we ever get there? A place where we will look back sadly at the ravages of the past? Or are we doomed to go on as we always have? The realist in me says the latter, but we must always act like we are free of fates, genetic predisposition, forces of nature. How else will we live full lives, be real people and not puppets of someone else's making?

I lovvvve Captain Picard. He always had something to say in every episode which sent chills down my spine. There was always something. It was the best. One day I am spending the mney and getting all the seasons. Vagabond I am, wanderer I am, but I must be able to draw on what I love.

My mood is up, stupidly enough. It does me no good because I also know the dire reality. Visibly, it marks me out as a happy person but they dont see the sinking feeling in my stomach. Damn right, you don't.

Application submissions after I go mad

Q. If you could have dinner with one individual in the past, present, or future, who would it be and why? (250 word maximum)
A. Torn between Darth Vader and Jean Luc Picard.

Q. Tell us about your most significant accomplishment. (250 word maximum)
A. Confessing my love to Shaan

Q. We value innovation and creativity. Describe an innovative solution you have created to address a specific challenge.
A. When I got locked out of the KL guesthouse and I picked the lock to get in. Damned innovative, if you ask me.

Q. What steps have you taken to learn about the MBA program, and what factors have influenced your decision to apply?
A. Read through the website. Factors include: desperation, parental pressure and throwing the kitchen sink.

Now getting back to the real thing...

Went for a movie yesterday "the golden compass". The characterisations were great, the action was good, I thought it held together well, but they left out the ending. I was in shock.

Today it feels like a bad dream.

Always I've thought that good books make bad movies. I relented of late with Lord of the rings. If they could take something so dear to me and make it almost dearer, I was wrong with my assumptions. But today I am justified with the negative view. And that in turn makes me turn with added amazement to the people behind LOTR-the movie. They did so many things right. I hope they know it, because the credit is huuuge. I offer my praise and prayers once more.

In other news. the sister has received the present. She tells me she loved it. I hope she did. I put all my heart into it.

and I'm singing...

The prezzie's in traaaaaansit.
The prezzie's in traaaaaaansit
My prezzie's in transit
to my sister at home

04/12/2007 08:50 In Transit to Destination

(anticipation)

Oh, the potential

Below is an email I got in my spam box. I adore spammers, they give me a whiff of strange far off countries, Nigeria, Guyana, Benin Republic and now Cote D'Ivoire. This one was special. It made me laugh (see words in bold typeface) and want to write a story. Read on.

From Miss Ellen Williams
Abidjan- Cote D' Iviore
Email- (ellenwilliams112@yahoo.fr)

Dearest,
Good a thing to write you. I have a proposal for you-this however is not mandatory nor Will I in any manner compel you to honour against your Will your profile pushed me to send you this mail,I am Ellen Williams.19 years young and the only daughter of my late parents Mr.and Mrs.Williams. My father was a highly reputable business Magnet-(a cocoa and oil merchant)who operated in the capital of Ivory coast during his days.It is sad to say that he passed away mysteriously in France during one of his business trips abroad.Though his sudden death was linked or rather suspected to have been masterminded by an uncle of his who travelled with him at that time But God knows the truth!

My mother died when I was just 7 years young since then my father took me so special. Before his death he called the secretary who accompanied him to the hospital and told him that he has the sum of Ten Millon,five hundred thousand United State Dollars.(USD$10.5m) left in one of the leading bank hear Abidjan CoteD'Iviore and the money was placed in a fixed deposit account.
He further told me that he deposited the money in my name,I am just 19 years young and a university undergraduate and really don't know what to do.This is because i have suffered a lot of set backs as a result of incessant political crisis here in Ivory Coast.The death of my father actually brought sorrow to my life. Dear,I am in a sincere desire of your humble assistance in this regards.Your suggestions and ideas will be highly regarded. Now permit me to ask these few questions
1. Can you honestly help me as your Sister?
2. Can I completely trust you?
3. What percentage of the total amount in question will be good for you after the money is in your account?

Please,Consider this and get back to me as soon as possible.Through my private address box. (ellenwilliams112@yahoo.fr)
Thank you so much and may God bless us.
Yours Sincerely One,
Miss Ellen Williams.

Massage chairs should be more private.

S has a wedding to attend , so I went with her to this manicurist. They play movies and you sit in a massage chair the whole while. I didn't switch mine on till the end. It's so good, I can't tell, but I'm almost ashamed. I looked away from the others in the room. It should be more private and I don't want my face seen. Before you get misconceptions, this was just my upper back. Still, the machines, kneads, pulls, vibrates, I don't want to be seen and I don't want to see anyone else in the state of massage-relaxation. There were others there. I just didn't look.

Prude.

Desertion

Once more I turn to you, bloggy, to help me heal. It's enough to say that I am a little unhappy and lost and I need some strength. Sure, I'm strong. Sure, I'll get through but I'm also a bit hurt, my bloggy. Love me, love me, please. I feel a bit battered and I *feel* clingy, I feel desperate for love, warmth and friendship. I'm not entirely sure what the matter is, but I think I'm a little depressed. That's half the battle won, I guess.
I can't bear kindnesses. I'll cry if you're kind to me. Don't explain or simplify things, I'm feeling sad, not stupid. I know very well what the real truth is. How do you treat someone like me? What do you do to make the bleakness better?

Perspective? That all will not be lost. That there will be much to rejoice even if the worst should happen. But the lines have been drawn clearly bloggy. On this side lies success, on the other failure. This side elation, the other misery. This side, I show my face, the other I hide in shame. Shame, shame. For shame, to dare to look so high. For shame, to join them when my head is so murky with thoughts.

This is not helping. But then, nothing has. I dread calls from home. I have nothing from some from whom I thought I would have. Nothing. Chastisement when I dwell in my worry, that's fair enough. But help me, please. I am in this gloom and there are such hard ways out that my vision blurs with fear and weakness at the thought of them. I am so weak and contemptible in this real trial of life. Self loathing wars with fear.

help me, bloggy, help me... please, please, please. It's darker, colder at night when there is no one to keep up appearances for.