tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34506757612103157362024-03-06T01:38:21.784+05:30Life...love...fatePriancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-16570888144447816762014-06-14T21:26:00.002+05:302014-06-14T21:35:04.207+05:30Still I Rise...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQ1r60nJMbYYBFvQNSUcD1yezEXps6ntDxR9J-yWBOvtI-dEbDLoWcw4gj_kvhNarFddC84ETEnwsmFwIS1ESOEi4PAEaLpHVhJ-YV_E3_VzXCfKlJ0pZKgezduYv_82Gt2iloKQLCZQN/s1600/mayas.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIQ1r60nJMbYYBFvQNSUcD1yezEXps6ntDxR9J-yWBOvtI-dEbDLoWcw4gj_kvhNarFddC84ETEnwsmFwIS1ESOEi4PAEaLpHVhJ-YV_E3_VzXCfKlJ0pZKgezduYv_82Gt2iloKQLCZQN/s1600/mayas.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
<i> "There is something about the way you smile. You seem to be so mysterious and yet unassuming"</i><br />
<i>"Do I?"</i><br />
<i>"Yes. It's alarming. More so, after I learnt that you are from Delhi. People there are usually quite selfish. Something tells me you are not"</i><br />
<i>**laughs** "Oh, I am. Quite selfish, I am. I am just very good at pretending"</i><br />
<br />I have had couple of such conversations recently. I happened to shift cities.<br />
Finally, got out of my comfort zone. Had to. Was about time. I have met a lot of new people since I wrote the last post. Most of these new people keep telling me stuff about me that I never realized. Or bothered about. <br />
<br />
Not so surprisingly then, I have managed to learn a lot more about myself in this new city than I've managed to learn about this new place, new job, and new people that I keep bumping into everyday.<br />
Of all the lessons that I've learned, one stands out for me. That lesson is that<b> there is nothing more humbling in life than failure.</b><br />
<br />
I have faced my fair share of failures in the year that just went by. Personally. Professionally. Emotionally. All of them keep pricking me in moments of solitude, constantly reminding me of what still needs to be achieved, corrected, and improved upon.<br />
<br />
I smile now. Unassumingly at times. It's a ploy to hide all the disappointments. All the failures and regrets that I seemed to have left behind.<br />
On other occasions, that sense of defeat rises up to the surface to smother me and make me realize that I am lagging behind.No matter how hard I try then, I fail to smile along with the world. I try to fake it, but it ends up being too evident. Until I make peace with that sense of defeat (temporarily). It refuses to leave my consciousness until I humbly accept it. <br />
<br />
These failures ensured that I was down to my knees, humbly accepting the limitations, the flaws, and realizing the gap which needs to be bridged from where I am to where I thought I wanted to be. <br />
<br />
Everyday is a struggle now. Not to give in to procrastination. Not to lose sight of my dreams. Not to get absorbed in the mundane-ness of ordinary life. To stay motivated. Despite the setbacks. Despite the disappointments. Despite the uncertainty which I often find lingering in the corners of my mind. <br />
<br />
I get up every morning telling myself I will be a better person today. I will tread a step closer to my dream. I will be happy today. I will be calmer. More organized. More equipped with knowledge and wisdom that I should have had by now. Everyday I smile. Everyday I try. <br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<center>
<i>What happens to a dream deferred?</i></center>
<i>
</i><br />
<center>
<i>Does it dry up
<br />like a raisin in the sun?
<br />Or fester like a sore--
<br />And then run?
<br />Does it stink like rotten meat?
<br />Or crust and sugar over--
<br />like a syrupy sweet?</i></center>
<i>
</i><br />
<center>
<i>Maybe it just sags
<br />like a heavy load.</i></center>
<i>
</i><br />
<center>
<i>Or does it explode?</i><br />
<i>~ Langston Hughes </i></center>
<center>
<i> </i></center>
<center>
<i> </i></center>
P.S - The title of this post is from another fav. poem of mine by Maya Angelou. I use that poem as a constant source for motivation. Until another day... <br />
<br /></div>
Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-47824310588511788982014-01-11T16:00:00.000+05:302014-01-19T20:45:13.815+05:30Why, Yes. Let's be Self-Centered. <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3RiiKAZ-dtn6QVsJTvTm_4etIvYH0b7HSwhbdsZyNUelsH8fMdZa__fJ_BHokxbMNqR85vMIUX28djF3zNwNqW1S-E-7Uc6HSSUHcnmnQfYb_yIgYV9EETMNeT1MnbN74p7UWAWA6472g/s1600/selfishness_cartoon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3RiiKAZ-dtn6QVsJTvTm_4etIvYH0b7HSwhbdsZyNUelsH8fMdZa__fJ_BHokxbMNqR85vMIUX28djF3zNwNqW1S-E-7Uc6HSSUHcnmnQfYb_yIgYV9EETMNeT1MnbN74p7UWAWA6472g/s1600/selfishness_cartoon.jpg" height="314" width="320" /></a></div>
It's been quite some time. Since I last visited this page. Since I wrote. Since I laughed wholeheartedly. Since I picked up a book and managed to finish it. Since I allowed myself to just be.<br />
<br />
Writing used to be a recreational outlet for me. And I still didn't bother to write. I kept telling myself I won't write unless I have something substantial to say/share. Did it have its repercussions? To put it plainly, yes, it did.<br />
Yet, I have regretted my speech, never my silence.<br />
You may ask why am I writing here now? Well, mostly because <strike>I've been forced to write by somebody who inspires me</strike> I do have something to say.<br />
<br />
Most of us are striving to become something extraordinary in our lives. Our role models are superstars, media personalities, famous politicians and what not. We aspire to become like them. Nobody cares about the ordinary. Basically, we all want to be VIPs.<br />
Not all of us might end up becoming one of them VIPs, for factors which might/might not be beyond our control.<br />
Yet, in this rat race of life, we fail to realize there is yet another kind of person that we should rather strive to become. A better person. Everyday. A W.I.P (work in progress) kinda person. <br />
<br />
I don't care if it sounds funny.<br />
<br />
We curse our society, our government, our culture, the people around us everyday for their incompetence. Only if we could shift our focus to ourselves, and only work on bettering ourselves as a person, we could be a lot happier.<br />
We cannot control what happens around us. What we can control is how we choose to react to those events.<br />
<br />
I used to be a very immature, angry person earlier. The one who would flip out at the slightest provocation.<br />
<div>
I have let go of some really great people because I was too busy judging them, focusing on unnecessary stuff, and wasting my time. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Do I regret it? No. </div>
<div>
Why you ask? Because as I said, I'm a W.I.P.</div>
<div>
I will learn, improvise, adapt, and overcome. One step at a time. </div>
<br />
On an unrelated note, I've been introspecting on the past year, and the lessons it has provided me with. Most of them, I believe, are universally valid. Hence, sharing:<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Kindness is grossly underrated.</li>
<li>Our society's measures of a successful life need some serious re-evaluation. </li>
<li>The corporate jargon "everybody is dispensable" stands invalidated in real life.</li>
<li>Your age has got nothing to do with your level of maturity. </li>
<li>It's important to treat others in the way you expect to be treated. </li>
<li>That life does open a door when it closes one on us. We just have to look hard enough for the door that's opened. </li>
</ul>
<div>
I know. Too much of gyaan in a single post. And that most of my life lessons sound like modern-day cliches. But as they say, we never really understand the gravity of things/words unless they happen to us. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<i>Yesterday I was clever, so I wanted to change the world. Today I am wise, so I'm changing myself ~ Rumi </i></div>
</div>
Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-46465576752802932242012-09-09T22:34:00.001+05:302012-09-09T22:36:51.609+05:30Healing....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8Yw6_VTJ5GqywAu5QlIBM-x4LYBiFjOiEiGTT0DLxdo-530Jt6VryBe78ZoQzPdnbsNVbNlP_LRljJdEZ1Mt_CDkAlQ6FGkhXBEggnXLj_7bAc3dzsU3LymbWdE0-wb3CtZJcOace9Xv/s1600/564727_10151229913051255_192176230_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie8Yw6_VTJ5GqywAu5QlIBM-x4LYBiFjOiEiGTT0DLxdo-530Jt6VryBe78ZoQzPdnbsNVbNlP_LRljJdEZ1Mt_CDkAlQ6FGkhXBEggnXLj_7bAc3dzsU3LymbWdE0-wb3CtZJcOace9Xv/s320/564727_10151229913051255_192176230_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
There is this statutory message in my office elevator. Something on the lines of:<br />
<br />
"LIFT IS EQUIPPED WITH AUTOMATIC RESCUE DEVICE. IN CASE OF FAILURE, KINDLY DO NOT PANIC"<br />
<br />
For a very weird/unknown reason, I always misread it as:<br />
<br />
"<b><i>LIFE</i></b> IS EQUIPPED WITH AUTOMATIC RESCUE DEVICE. IN CASE OF FAILURE, KINDLY DO NOT PANIC"
<br />
<br />
Yes, you can call me weird, but it's happened with me at least ten times on different occasions. And for a strange reason, I always find my version of this statutory warning as a very comforting one. Like being offered hot cocoa on a chilly, winter day. That's the kind of fuzzy feeling I get every time I look at that message.<br />
<br />
On certain days, I'm surprised how soon I've convinced myself that my life is never going to be the same. I go to the office, I pretend to laugh, have fun, socialize with other people, work, procrastinate, study, and basically do all the "normal" things.<br />
<br />
However, scratch on the surface (which I often do), and voila, I'm a totally changed person. Though, I' afraid I'm not very proud of what I've become now.<br />
There was this bubbling energy in me earlier, and that stupid habit of seeing the world through rose-tinted glasses. That is gone. Some simple pleasures are permanently ruined for me too (won't go around naming them here..would take forever).<br />
<br />
However, I'm amazed at the inner strength that helped me cope through my personal tragedy. I shifted my focus to things that I needed to do (both tangible and intangible). Given my unmotivated self, I'm truly amazed at how these simple things have helped me overcome the most difficult situation in my life ever. To sum them up:<br />
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>started focusing on the have's rather than have not's. </li>
<li>started driving </li>
<li>joined a gym and started treating my body with a li'l more respect</li>
<li>got my brother's tattoo</li>
<li>did away with unnecessary people (relatives/cousins/so-called friends) and the drama they bring along</li>
<li>value my family a LOT more (well, I always did but now, they are Les Supreme)</li>
</ul>
<div>
I set mini-goals for myself now and try to achieve them, one step at a time. </div>
<div>
When I'd written my last blog entry, needless to say I was shattered. Not that I'm not anymore. But I've learnt to accept things that can't be undone, and shifted my focus on people around me who matter, things that I want to achieve for me, and provide them with. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
I'm still getting over it. I guess healing is a long, slow process. Quite unlike the blow I was dealt out with. But I'm optimistic now. Because I know people who mattered to me are always with me and will be with me. Amen. </div>
<div>
<br />
<i>"It's not forgetting that heals. It's remembering." ~ Amy Greene, Bloodroot</i></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>
Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-53761943761289629222012-03-31T18:03:00.002+05:302012-03-31T18:16:49.107+05:30<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My tears refuse to dry.....And there is nothing that seems to make sense to me now.<br />
I don't know where you are or if you can see what we all are going through here. I miss you. I miss you so much.<br />
The event of that night keep flashing in front of my eyes, till the time I'm choked with an unrelenting sense of sadness.<br />
<br />
They tell me to be strong. I'm trying but I know I'm failing miserably. This world does not make sense to my any more. I wish you were here.<br />
<br />
There is no one to make us laugh any more after a tiring day at work. There is no one to fight over chocolates with. There is no one who would ever care to drop me home like you did, no one who would ever care how I felt about things. No one who would make fun of my choices, no one who would get me huge bouquets on my birthday. No one whom I can buy that Blackberry for, no one who would force me to listen to Punjabi songs. No one to take care of papa, like you did. No one who would pester me at midnight for dinner, no one who would pull pranks at me, scare me or make us laugh till our stomachs hurt. no one comes to me now asking for tips on colour combinations and clothes, no one who can provide that feeling of being safe and being protected, being looked after. I miss you so much.<br />
<br />
This world is cruel. There is no one with us here, no one who came forward to support or even offer an explanation. No one owned it up. They came and they went away. It's this emptiness that's left. Why did you have to leave us alone? I am mad. Mad as hell at that wretch of a god who snatched you away. They tell me he loved you more than we did. I hope he is taking good care of you up there. I really, really hope you are happy wherever you are.<br />
If not, believe me, I'm going to smack this god when I meet him.<br />
<br />
I know my childhood is behind me. Our room, the things you would get us, that tape recorder you were making fun of, your stuff, your car.....its all here. It all reminds me of you. Each of it breaks my heart. Your stuff will remain here just as it was, just as you would have wanted. I am not going to let anyone touch any of it.<br />
<br />
I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know what either of us are going to do. But believe me, I'm trying my best. All of us are trying our best. We will do whatever we can to take care of mummy and papa just as you would have. And yes, I am going to get all that stuff you would ask for, do all the things that you wanted. You've went away and taken away a part of us. My words have failed me.<br />
<br />
I hope you are happy wherever you are. I hope you get a much, much better life than you had here. And I hope you will come back into our lives one day.<br />
<br />
I miss you so much.<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>I'd withheld not writing any of it here for the longest time now.And after years, I'm using my words just to pour my heart out hoping it will lessen the ache. I am closing the comments on this one for the very same reason. </i><br />
<br /></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-61062897498601772662012-02-10T15:00:00.000+05:302012-02-10T15:09:49.235+05:30Quoting a Quote<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr_M01tFCMX1nPAui5C7saKa5dhXKe1Ldtbg82TeYUR9iAIMYfryskUNlyMuWHFcxOfvz9IuO3m1lo6kXyY7gVYoBOuI4qMMZVUHMSGGouVyhCKJHhDf8lNTKGrJ-h_WxqUNYI4RlfVCWV/s1600/HighfidelityDVD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr_M01tFCMX1nPAui5C7saKa5dhXKe1Ldtbg82TeYUR9iAIMYfryskUNlyMuWHFcxOfvz9IuO3m1lo6kXyY7gVYoBOuI4qMMZVUHMSGGouVyhCKJHhDf8lNTKGrJ-h_WxqUNYI4RlfVCWV/s320/HighfidelityDVD.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
If any of you reading this post has cared to visit this site before, you would know that I love quotes. I heart them and more often than not, sign off most of my posts with a quote that inspired me.<br />
<br />
Two of my favorite quotes go along the lines of <i>Speak only if you can improve the silence.</i><br />
and <i>Some people speak coz they have something to say, others speak coz they just have to say something</i>. (sic)<br />
<br />
In my case I haven't written anything here recently simply because there was nothing that seemed worth sharing. A lot has been happening but it wasn't something that I wanted to chronicle.....yet.<br />
<br />
Anyhow, I was reading and came across this beautiful quote by Robert Fleming, <i>High Fidelity</i>. <br />
<br />
"What came first—the music or the misery? Did I listen to music because I
was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to music? Do all
those records turn you into a melancholy person? … The unhappiest people
I know, romantically speaking, are the ones who like pop music the
most; and I don’t know whether pop music has caused this unhappiness,
but I do know that they’ve been listening to the sad songs longer than
they’ve been living the unhappy lives."<br />
<br />
It struck a chord. It's so true.<br />
<br />
P.S - I've heard they have a movie based on this novel. Have to, have to check it out. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br /></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-82486789952815484892011-12-21T14:50:00.000+05:302011-12-21T14:50:57.498+05:30Looking Back.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
We live in excess. We have just too many people around us, just too many things to do, just too many issues to tackle and just too many emotions that we feel. Just too many choices to make and too many moments in future wait for us to contemplate on the what-if's.<br />
<br />
And amidst all these excesses, we don't really value anything or anyone till it's gone or is temporarily unavailable. Taking something for granted is always easier than acknowledging, right? <br />
<br />
I am 23 now and kill me for saying it, but I already miss all the good moments I had in my past, wondering if they ever will come back. Yeah, optimism has never been my strong point.<br />
I remember living like crazy when the days were numbered, feeling obligated to rejoice all the good moments cause soon there would be none. Spending all that I had, living in the moment, not being politically correct and being prone too. Prone to being hurt, be happy, be open to any kind of emotions basically.<br />
<br />
I don't do that anymore. Don't get hurt too easily, don't get <strike>happy too easily.. </strike><br />
<br />
I have absolutely no clue when and where did those people go from my life. Actually, I do. And it seemed like the most sane and logical thing to happen back then. Looking back, it seems letting them go was the most stupid decision I made. And don't tell me that people are replaceable or shit like, every one has a role to play in someone else's life and then they leave when their part is over.<br />
<br />
You might find lots of more people (it's not hard to find more people to interact with), but you can never replace the ones who helped you form your most memorable moments. <br />
Best part? Those very same people seem like completely different individuals now. Time, you are one big manipulative bitch and yet, your bitchiness commands absolute respect. <br />
<br />
<br />
There is no substitute for the comfort supplied by the utterly taken-for granted relationships. ~Iris Murdoch
</div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-7541502869439218522011-11-22T16:10:00.001+05:302011-11-22T16:54:08.529+05:30The Happy post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAqNnpmcjsQF7eacpAQyWrbimzw98MR5mNdCAPfl4dIDWtE3kLN7op13bdBr1Aj171hOtJTX20E8C5F9ZuT2cNsWA5aAmenyFCLWt2lcVcGrWpzogkOdXQaH5qTKKmbKxxTKBkb9D1zbe/s1600/audrey%252Chepburn%252Cquote-e3a22c731ebefb2c8a22892a24a9f158_m.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoAqNnpmcjsQF7eacpAQyWrbimzw98MR5mNdCAPfl4dIDWtE3kLN7op13bdBr1Aj171hOtJTX20E8C5F9ZuT2cNsWA5aAmenyFCLWt2lcVcGrWpzogkOdXQaH5qTKKmbKxxTKBkb9D1zbe/s1600/audrey%252Chepburn%252Cquote-e3a22c731ebefb2c8a22892a24a9f158_m.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
There are only two types of women this world...beautiful women and lazy women. I read these lines in some fashion magazine a while ago.<br />
I guess, I fall in the second category. However, that does not negate the fact that I have the highest regard of women my age, older and younger who take that extra effort to groom themselves.<br />
<br />
I have never been the prim and proper girl. And I strongly doubt if I ever will be. For starters, my hair's always a mess and on most mornings, I just manage to put together an ensemble from the huge pile of clothes I keep shopping for.<br />
My favorite pastime, ironically, is shopping for everything high-street and scouring fashion blogs. They kinda inspire me, motivate me to be a lil more presentable (however, that motivation vanishes the moment I close that tab)<br />
<br />
<br />
My supposedly intellectual, feminist self refuses to be drowned in a farce-personality of too many accessories, make up and well-put clothes. Should that make me sad?<br />
<br />
I don't think so. Because I know there are way too many other things which should matter and do matter to me than being just jaw-dropping-kinda presentable.<br />
<br />
Also, I realized the trick to be happy. Happiness, the phenomenal feeling which needs to be risen from within yourself if you want to be truly happy. There's no point relying on something, someone, some experience or some state of mind to be happy. Because if the presence of that (person, product, experience) has the ability to make us happy in its presence, it also has the ability to make us feel terrible in its absence. On the other hand, the happiness that we feel on our own small successes, everyday learning and experiences cannot be substituted. And I can say this from personal experience. ;)<br />
<br />
On a good note, I'm back to exercising regularly (nothing beats the thrill of going jogging on a chilly, winter morning) and reading.<br />
<br />
P.S - The image here sums up all that I wanted to say. Take your cue, by happy! :) <br />
<br />
<br />
For attractive lips, speak words of kindness. For lovely eyes, seek out
the good in people. For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run their fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone. People,
more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and
redeemed.”
~ Audrey Hepburn <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/692403.Audrey_Hepburn"></a></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-6361414594767292352011-10-13T22:03:00.011+05:302011-10-14T00:28:31.336+05:30'Tis a season of confessions<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIbfce1d7MkuUZRO8vWJHzXw5d5k9colK_2sCTl5_kCGLS0-4GtMbkbrffWmC8ggGmLI8NPe2DXhLp6umNQrklPLUtKyEtHCmcBEQGC9lOOOeeSuDhRYGf1Hdey0M2qM7VecqO9_5gTwa/s1600/335103_460s.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxIbfce1d7MkuUZRO8vWJHzXw5d5k9colK_2sCTl5_kCGLS0-4GtMbkbrffWmC8ggGmLI8NPe2DXhLp6umNQrklPLUtKyEtHCmcBEQGC9lOOOeeSuDhRYGf1Hdey0M2qM7VecqO9_5gTwa/s320/335103_460s.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />
<br />
I'm gonna write this post in a single stream of consciousness, i.e. I will not go back to edit any of the stuff that I write here now. So, please don't complain if the post ends up sounding incoherent or weird...You Were Warned!<br />
<br />
<br />
I started this blog way back in 2008. Read through some of my older posts and I went like, "jeez, I can't believe I wrote that, how could I even think that?".<br />
<br />
I have grown up since then. My school of thought has undergone severe metamorphosis while I finished college, did odd jobs, graduated, tried some more jobs, lost friends I thought I never would, found new friends, been surrounded with people, been alone, experimented with things I shouldn't have, did stuff which I should have.....<br />
<br />
Nevertheless, I wouldn't change a thing about those posts or the way I used to think about then.I wouldn't change a thing about my past, because it helped me reach the stage in life where I am today ( and may I dare say, its not a bad phase at all).<br />
<br />
I have chronicled a lot of important events in this blog, purged and shared experiences here. However, there are still a few which I never admitted to. Not even to myself. <br />
<br />
One of it is about how I feel for others, especially guys. (Yeah, we are talking about my non-existent love life here).<br />
When I was 16, I had a crush on this guy, who was, to put it simply, way out of my league. It felt great initially and then it spiraled into endless bouts of disappointment and depression. The knowledge that that guy would never feel the same about me as I did about him wasn't very great. My grades suffered, so did my self-confidence. <br />
And I ended up shifting my entire focus to my career to get out of that miserable feeling. In the next few years, I managed to do a decent job on the education/professional front and hardened myself to the fancy-shmancy world of dating, coz seriously, I didn't want my confidence to take another beating.<br />
<br />
When this year started, I made a simple resolution - to stay true to myself in whatever I do. <br />
<br />
I've been in denial for quite some time now. But I shall chronicle it here (again) and accept the fact that I did get a new crush after so many years. The only difference is that I'm not in school anymore, and having crushes at workplace isn't the best thing that can happen to you. To start with, your productivity just goes for a toss and you keep feeling miserable all day long. I realized I haven't changed/improved much in this aspect. I get positively tongue-tied every time I see him, let alone saying a feeble "hi" to him. So, I end up acting like either a total jerk or probably give off the impression of being "some bitch with an attitude problem" to him.<br />
Sigh! <br />
<br />
I still keep this guy-who-shall-not-be-named on a very high pedestal, thinking he is never going to take even a second look at me. (okay, who am I really kidding here, this guy wouldn't even care that I exist on the face of this earth) <br />
<br />
But this time, I shall give this guy the basic respect he deserves to get, and not try to deride him just for the sake of convincing myself that he is not worth my time or shit like that). If anything, he made me realize that I'm still normal, not emotionally-hardened and can still actually have crushes. (I had a strong self-doubt on the last one ;)<br />
<br />
Just that I'm wise enough not to make a fool of myself again by hoping against the hopes that he would ever notice me. Which is okay, really. I'm sure I'm lucky in some other department of life, say career or family or friends. ;)<br />
I'm more glad I at least accepted it. <br />
<br />
<br />
<b>And you still don't have the right look, and you don't have the right friends,</b><br />
<b>Nothing changes but the faces, the names and the trends,</b><br />
<b>High school never ends ~ Carl Reiner </b></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-53142760818781881242011-09-12T00:03:00.001+05:302011-09-12T00:05:00.368+05:30Take Light<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqJhzwakpimosyz5LwyXGrQJADTqzoWiyqZOo4y6Vuj6qOqjMIZ1hgUvOrUjTNWeC1-tVRMqagGL9EIAAUIC42luRpsmxlW0_2z0i8LWc0q1i0u_cgAVqO1NFvRlfIuGB8kwGYV-8PgQO/s1600/uselessescalators.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="234" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghqJhzwakpimosyz5LwyXGrQJADTqzoWiyqZOo4y6Vuj6qOqjMIZ1hgUvOrUjTNWeC1-tVRMqagGL9EIAAUIC42luRpsmxlW0_2z0i8LWc0q1i0u_cgAVqO1NFvRlfIuGB8kwGYV-8PgQO/s320/uselessescalators.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
"<i>You said a lot of stuff last night".</i><br />
<br />
<i>"Really? Shit, I can't believe I ended up being so stupid. I was drunk. I didn't mean to say it all. I don't know how I ended up doing that. Was I really rude or harsh?"</i><br />
<br />
<i>"Well, you were okay. You said what you felt and yes, you were a bit rude. But how does that make a difference? The truth is out, alcohol does that to you."</i><br />
<br />
Well, yeah. Alcohol does that to you. It makes you say things you wouldn't say otherwise. It makes you do things you wouldn't do otherwise. It makes you behave like the person you wouldn't normally behave like.<br />
<br />
We all are two-faced. No, wait, three-faced maybe. One face is for the world. The other is for people whom we think, know us. And the third face is who looks back at us, when we try to view ourselves in the mirror. Most of us try to hide it.<br />
<br />
Why? Did you ask? <br />
<br />
Coz we all have our secrets. Little, big, irrelevant, deal-breakers, humbling, humiliating secrets. We all have them. Most of the times, its our opinion on something or feelings about someone that don't seem completely justified, and hence, end up being our "secrets". It would feel terrible to know that somebody else, who isn't familiar with our "third" face knows our secret. No?<br />
<br />
Well, I'm gonna let in a little secret here - It is okay to share secrets. It is perfectly okay to share those tiny, insignificant ones which you know aren't going to get your world crashing down. It is okay to purge once in a while.<br />
It is also okay to let out a big secret, however humiliating or hurtful, it might be, when the need arises. When the other person deserves to know. It is okay to unload our weight, shed off some excess baggage once in a while.<br />
<br />
Though, most of the times, share it with people who know you. Who have seen your "second face" and whom you can count on to understand you. Your life will be incredibly light and more relieved.<br />
Share secrets. Live light. ;)<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Tell your friend a lie. If he keeps it a secret, then tell him the truth ~ Old Proverb </b></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-41719572498043824572011-08-13T01:04:00.002+05:302011-08-13T12:48:11.475+05:30A History of Violence<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoADp-GQEGNMlzCdeqyA1g3FQV6HL1Z21OCbTfNVgz4tI5F1uoNrCUuNnSjvLf4DxvK-ujGt_MBGs0enXV0VRfE_YGz3tANPXyzNslHqHZjcPIC23hcS2NfLHZBbgZzpPs_IrKKX-C6nM/s1600/london-riots-2011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoADp-GQEGNMlzCdeqyA1g3FQV6HL1Z21OCbTfNVgz4tI5F1uoNrCUuNnSjvLf4DxvK-ujGt_MBGs0enXV0VRfE_YGz3tANPXyzNslHqHZjcPIC23hcS2NfLHZBbgZzpPs_IrKKX-C6nM/s320/london-riots-2011.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>I've never faced a riot in my life. Considering the fact, that I happen to live in a country which is considered the fourth most unsafe country to live in (yup, that's true as per a recent survey), I count myself lucky.<br />
<br />
Living in a developing nation which is prone to terror attacks, rapes, daylight murders and mugging, I often used to think that may be things are better when it comes to other much developed nations of the world. Turns out, it is not.<br />
<br />
London has been burning for the fifth day in row now. In fact, the entire Great Britain has been burning. I fail to understand what is so great about Great Britain? It's a nation which predominantly seemed to have the most powerful currency after dollar. The fate of most European trading union could be vastly affected by this single nation till the time its president decided to scoot off to Italy to make the most out of his summer vacation while the entire world waited. Waited for their government to come back in form and announce if they were taking any steps to salvage their reputation.<br />
<br />
Agreed that it was a melting pot for various cultures and the "minorities" residing here exceeded the white Britons by leaps and bounds. Agreed that their police forces were considered the most tolerant and their royal family was as regal as regal could be.<br />
<br />
Turns out, the various ethnic minorities living here were nursing a grudge, a deep-seated grudge of being treated unfairly by their government, their police forces were not as aggressive in the need of the hour and the decadent royal family.....the lesser said about them, the better.<br />
<br />
Hooligans have been torching cars, killing people, looting showrooms and mugging people. Most of these "hooligans" are no older than 20-somethings, wearing hooded clothes to hide their identity and belong to one or the other minority group. What started as a peaceful protest against the illegitimate killing of a civilian has now taken the form of a national epidemic. <br />
At first, the world thought that maybe they are reacting to the unequal treatment meted out to the minority groups. Then it was believed that the masses were revolting against the oppressive government rule and major cuts in public funding that the British government announced to mitigate its debt. It was only after millions of dollars (pounds?) of resources were destroyed in these riots, that the British govt. finally acknowledged it as insurgency.<br />
<br />
Just because they had social media at their disposal, opportunity to plunder and feed their insatiable desire for consumerism, these people took advantage of the weak policing and wreaked havoc citing reasons as lame as rebellion against spending cuts. <br />
<br />
I just have one question in my mind. What are these people rebelling against? That their nation is faced with the similar recession problem that the rest of the world is battling with?What were they thinking when torching showrooms and mugging people? What sort of rebellion is this? <br />
<br />
Maybe, this sums its up - Note that from all reports we know, these rioters come from very different races–including native English people–varying age-groups, different jobs, and includes men as well as women. Among those found looting shops were people in their 30s as well as kids as young as 11. Many of them were seen laughing and having a grand ol’ time as they ransacked liquor shops and stashed up on cigarettes and whiskey and beer bottles.<br />
<b>These rioters are rudderless, mindless, collectivist drones.</b> <br />
And therein lies the clue to their behavior. Ask yourself, how does one become a rudderless, mindless, collectivist drone? One answer is when you are never confronted with the necessity to use your own independent mind.<br />
<b>The United Kingdom of Great Britain–one of the largest welfare states in the world–has been nurturing and breeding a mind-numbed cadre of youngsters who are living on dole-outs, whose life, survival, and sustenance are someone else’s responsibility. </b><br />
These are people who are not <i>demanded</i> to think and confront the fragility of their own survival. These are Britons who are not demanded to be productive. These are citizens who are shielded from the bitter sting of starvation; from the panic of creeping death and the urgency of survival, much hundreds of other less fortunate nations in the world.<br />
What we see now is the logical consequence of a mighty, paternalistic welfare state breeding a class of moochers who simply find no urgency in using their own mind to think–to reason–and therefore, believes that they simply cannot find their own way out of marginalization.<br />
Indeed, this underclass of citizens has been so dis-empowered–not by any remnants of a capitalist structure in English society–but by the very bloated welfare government that was allegedly meant to “empower” them that they no longer believe it possible to them to get out of their miserable conditions.<br />
<br />
<br />
It's a sad situation and maybe, just maybe, once Britain is done dealing with this terrible episode, world media will hail it again for its fierce and quick response or hail the indomitable spirit of Britons who have been bravely facing riots in its hisotry. (Mumbai terror attacks, anyone).<br />
<br />
<br />
Instead of a quote, I'm gonna leave you with a link shared by my friend, Rachit which reveals the true picture of this <a href="http://www.leonneal.com/blog/2011/08/12/london-riots-august-2011/">macabre event</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-64629467752715797482011-07-03T21:18:00.002+05:302011-08-13T12:48:29.120+05:30Sounds Famil(y)iar?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzgf7sKOARGgLuNGNWv84NA9LwhiFgbnt2A3PPw8vBfkQu8X-YIvbYhxZfah_NVG9hDiZlnq6ujX57BsFL1ZQh-UA6f0p_-i7AwxPyntsSKwaVGwvN8fiItBLBkDa5ka4ybW-6aiZJsM9/s1600/family-guy1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYzgf7sKOARGgLuNGNWv84NA9LwhiFgbnt2A3PPw8vBfkQu8X-YIvbYhxZfah_NVG9hDiZlnq6ujX57BsFL1ZQh-UA6f0p_-i7AwxPyntsSKwaVGwvN8fiItBLBkDa5ka4ybW-6aiZJsM9/s320/family-guy1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">"Family is just accident.... They don't mean to get on your nerves. They don't even mean to be your family, they just are".</div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><div style="font-family: inherit;">I came across these lines recently. So simple and yet they answered one of my most favorite questions about my family that I often ask myself. </div><br />
Families are weird. Either that, or I really need a psychiatric. I don't know what is it with families, sometimes, I even fail to understand the concept of a family.<br />
<strike>Why do we even really need one, like really?</strike> Ok, strike that, that's just my fed-up mind speaking. <br />
I see friends. And their friends. And friends of friends of friends. All of them belong to some family and what surprises me most is that no two friends would ever boast of having identical families. <br />
Everyone's is unique and the problems, characteristics, qualities they come with are quite unique as well. <br />
<br />
On days, we would love them. We would hate them but we can't imagine our lives without them. They are our first point of contact with humans when we enter this world (for most of us, at least).<br />
<br />
I have friends who want to give a serious thought to "starting a family in near future". <br />
Phew, I guess that's a whole lot of hard work, responsibilities and headache that we sign up ourselves for. <br />
<br />
From a point that I see it, raising a family is no child's play. And your kids will eventually imbibe your qualities, will reflect and even follow your acts, accept you/ reject you as their role models depending upon the conditioning they receive. <br />
So, if you are a great person, you will probably bring in more number of nice individuals in this world. But if you are som<span style="font-family: inherit;">eone who is not quite sure of him/herself, morally/mentally breaks down during the tedious process of raising a family, there a</span>re chances that the children too, will spend a considerable amount of time trying to figure out wrong from the right, exploring things, know themselves and then, take a stand. <br />
<br />
I know I'm probably too inexperienced to be writing all this. <br />
On days, I really wonder what would have I been had I not been living with my family. I know I would have been a far more independent and calmer person. But then, I know I would also have not imbibed some moral qualities that I have and take pride in. <br />
<br />
We can choose our friends, but we cannot select which family we ultimately get born into.<br />
So, no matter how much we crib/hate/love/be embarrassed of/adore/get jealous of our families, that is one truth that we can't change about ourselves.<br />
I guess I will make peace with that fact too and graciously accept my at-times embarrassing, at-times supportive and madhouse loud Punjabi family with utmost humility.<br />
Maybe that should calm me down, for some time at least. <br />
<br />
<div style="font-family: inherit;"><b>Families are like fudge - mostly sweet with a few nuts. ~Author Unknown</b></div><div style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</div><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-62211530837251235442011-06-18T20:43:00.002+05:302011-07-04T10:56:03.713+05:30Making sense of it all..<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Has it ever happened to you that you tried reading a "famous" novel or watching a movie but couldn't get it? And then you happen to come across the same novel or movie again, years later, give it another try and voila, it seems to make sense? Not only make sense but you are better capacitated to appreciate the beauty of it?<br />
<br />
Well, I don't know how many of you reading this would agree to the above statement but it most definitely has happened to me. So many times. Case in point, its true that we mature over years and become more able to handle things we couldn't even understand earlier.<br />
The funny thing is there are so many things in my life which still baffle me in quite the same fashion as they used to years earlier. These are the things which make me doubt if I'm growing and becoming mature by the day at all or not!<br />
<br />
Most of them are regarding people in my life and not things anymore. Tangible things, complex subjects and issues I can handle now, its the people around me which baffle me. Like this best friend I never had. I never could quite understand whether she liked me, hated me or secretly despised me. I still can't. It was like being judged all the time. Being judged if you achieve something, being judged if you date a guy and being terribly judged on how to behave and my clothes when I used to be around her. I never quite came around to telling her that this behavior of her's confuses me, not to forget prevents me from respecting her completely.<br />
Also, that she was this perfectly normal, affectionate friend for others, but for me.<br />
God knows it that the day I lose it or I'm too drunk, I'm gonna give her a piece of my mind. But maybe, I'm just too coward to do it, thinking it would hurt her feelings and all.<br />
<br />
I fail to understand why we allow ourselves to become a doormat for someone, allow ourselves to be "used" emotionally, mentally and professionally by others. In our hearts, we know we would never take this bullshit and we still do.<br />
It's this human tendency to be loved, to be wanted and the due course, somewhere it all just gets too confusing.<br />
<br />
These people around me are the new "challenging" novels in my life that I still haven't been able to figure out. But eventually I will and probably, I would also then know how to behave appropriately.<br />
Amen.<br />
<br />
Analyses of others are actually expressions of our own needs and values ~ Marshall Rosenberg<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-82019079247917522212011-05-24T00:58:00.001+05:302011-05-24T01:01:26.223+05:30Missing the Point<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">There is this very interesting animated video which a friend showed me the other day.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The video featured 13 men, carrying heavy buckets of water from left to right. When the video starts, a warning message appears, "<i>Notice the thirteen men in the video. One of them would drop the bucket. If you notice which one drops, you win</i>".</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Being my usual self, I got into my I-will-win-no-matter-what mode within seconds. For the next thirteen minutes, I observed the 13 men, painfully entering the screen from left, carrying the buckets in their hand and exiting from right.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">When the video got over, I gave my friend a quizzical look. "Damn, no body dropped their bucket", I exclaimed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"Wait, the video is not over yet", he said.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">A message appeared on screen now. It said, <i>"Did you notice that a bear appeared on the stage during the video, danced around and left</i>?"</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"Hell, no! I was watching the video closely. I didn't notice any bear coming on the stage", I exclaimed.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">At my insistence, my friend replayed the video again. And there it was, halfway through the video, a white bear appeared on the corner of stage, jiggled around and left. I, on my part, was dumbfounded!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Was I really that stupid to not notice a huge bear? Or wait, maybe I could use a visit to the eye doctor.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"Well, that's not the case. It's all about your focus", my friend explained.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">"When you were watching the video, you were too busy trying to find fault with one of the 13 men that you forgot to notice anything else in the video."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">The moral of the story is simple - We only see what our eyes want to see and our eyes will not see what our mind does not know.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Maybe, that's what I have been doing for quite some time now. Focusing too hard on certain things while completely ignoring others.When I started writing this blog, it was a way to vent out my feelings and experiences, even if they didn't mean anything to anyone but me.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Sometimes it felt nice to come up with a "good" post which people liked and appreciated. However, I was not trying to become some super talented writer whose pen spewed only thought-provoking words. I was just laying bare my feelings, because sometimes its good to get the word out. </div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">But that's just it!!!!</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It gets stupid when you start focusing too hard on something that you used to do effortlessly earlier. Be it writing, drawing, acting, selling, cooking anything!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">It becomes more of a distraction than an ease when something which is the source of your catharsis becomes the reason for your distraction. Maybe, that's what I stop need to do. Trying too hard where I don't need to.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">This whole time when I did not record my experiences or memories simply seems as it just "flew by". Truth is, I stopped taking time out to appreciate little things, record special experiences My entire focus throughout this time was to make something out of my life. So much so, that I forgot to see what my life has to offer me right now. I looked straight through it. That's precisely when I missed the point. ,</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Writing was a distraction. Taking out time to write seemed like a burden. When I would sit down to write, ideas wouldn't come because frankly, I never bothered to look up and notice things around me as they are.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">My entire focus was to bring back my original style till the time I sat wondering,"Heck, I don't even know what IS my original style. How can I recreate something I have no fucking idea about."</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Truth is, I might miss writing sometimes. But what I miss more is acknowledging and appreciating the day-to-day experiences that life has to offer me. Because my real learnings are from the experiences I had. Not from some lame posts on a virtual platform.</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Maybe my original style lies in observing my life from a closer perspective. Documenting it in a blog could only qualify as a formality I do in the end of that process. I don't really miss the writing, I just miss the memories, which could have been!</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Better to write for yourself and have no public, than to write for the public and have no self ~ Cyril Connolly</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmWZ_YlQqY67ZF_9nDPuzg6pZWOmUYhAmar9y-qM3AzCoTvW2KJUfP3jcGNYbXZjs_hZBjMUYJymb3kQF_JG5XYXfXhY4fn8Br-ZWIX5uGVIoJNrYvIyfNWKwnpQX8ko38NeZ5y4GO32i/s1600/images.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGmWZ_YlQqY67ZF_9nDPuzg6pZWOmUYhAmar9y-qM3AzCoTvW2KJUfP3jcGNYbXZjs_hZBjMUYJymb3kQF_JG5XYXfXhY4fn8Br-ZWIX5uGVIoJNrYvIyfNWKwnpQX8ko38NeZ5y4GO32i/s320/images.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-5470745265393961532011-04-27T23:54:00.002+05:302011-04-27T23:58:09.207+05:30Suits Me? Suits Me Not?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnjAfcdz6F5nIE-Vaw-_OteJR6D5jOvNJMMPBUhDqSYSyNgfpQ9gIruKhjI1edhdfOvNVWntR_Je_ZwefrPiirieZ8RcGP8n4t2qoawiIrhhc-C1YMkLaY_T87qHfdy6PhgmA8I9YDMKE/s1600/c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209px" i8="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMnjAfcdz6F5nIE-Vaw-_OteJR6D5jOvNJMMPBUhDqSYSyNgfpQ9gIruKhjI1edhdfOvNVWntR_Je_ZwefrPiirieZ8RcGP8n4t2qoawiIrhhc-C1YMkLaY_T87qHfdy6PhgmA8I9YDMKE/s320/c.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><br />
There is no such thing as a one-size-suits-all in certain aspects of our lives, I guess. In the last few months, I've figured out certain aspects where I would prefer a custom tailoring please. <br />
<br />
I write. Or rather, let's just say I used to write. Of late, I don't write. Don't write what I would have preferred to write, scribble my thoughts on a paper, type them out and share them. No, no, I just don't do that anymore. <br />
Am I happy? Hell, no! <br />
Let's just put it like this. I'm 22 years old. Have always been writing. Started out my career early, as a writer and pretty well flourished in it. And then, Bam! One wrong decision and I don't know what to do with my life anymore. Or rather, I do know but I just dont have enough guts to go out and do it. <br />
<br />
Now, this is more or less of what I write(endless number of times in a day, mind you)<br />
<br />
<em>Hello,</em><br />
<em>This is in reference to the job opening on XYZ job portal by you. I'm interested in applying for the position of Copywriter/Principal Correspondent/Editor/Sr. Content Developer and Corp Comm Manager post. Please find my resume attached. Available for discussion. Feel free to contact me at ***********. </em><br />
<em>Kind Regards</em><br />
<em>Prianca Arora </em><br />
<br />
Well, yeah, that is more or less what I get to write nowadays. No, I'm not jobless. In fact, people tell me that I'd got myself quite a killer job (high pay, perks, stylish office, yada,yada,)<br />
In fact, I work quite a lot. Enough to keep me busy and away from blogging. And that sucks!<br />
There came a point when I was angry. Really angry. I was angry at all the people who forced me to go ahead and grab this opportunity with both hands. Could they not see what I was in for. I was angry at myself for being so naive. <br />
<br />
Then, came a point of relentless damage control. Frantically applying everywhere to get out of my current situation. Seems life doesnt always work in our way. It was only after I got myself into a completely wrong job (for me) that I realised the importance of a right job and things which matter more than monetary incentives. But this time, jobs were hard to come by. A few did and they paid very handsomely too. The only glitch was that they wanted me to do boring, mechanical and completely technical work. Coming from an Arts background, I can't even begin to explain the horrorful feeling when I realized that I'm surrounded by core-technical people, who might not have even a single creative bone in their body!<br />
Okay, maybe I'm being a bit too harsh here but come on, like can't they see why I am looking for a change in the first place?<br />
<br />
And now, it's all too funny to me now. I'm bored of being stressed, tired of applying. Plus, the negative factors at work just dont bother me anymore. It's like bing elevated to a higher state of calmness, from where you see things in a different light, from a new perspective that you'd never considered before. <br />
I remember the old times. I had this huge list of things I wanted to buy when I would earn big bucks. Now, that I do have that kind of money, the desire to spend it is gone. Now, what do I do when I get my monthly paycheque? Nothing. I let it rot. <br />
<br />
I have the option of moving out, leaving this job (and the big bucks) and simply go with the flow. Like take a break from work. Be vella. That would be a task for me now. Especially, with everyone around discouraging me. All they see is that paycheques would stop flowing in. <br />
I feel that calmness and clarity might seep in my life once I get out. Honestly, I'm so used to working now that not working would demand some preserverance from me. On hindsight, I'm thankful I had this experience so early in my life. It's not until we find ourselves in completely unsuitable situations that we realize what suits us most, realize the importance of things and people who matter but whom we took for granted earlier. <br />
<br />
<em>It's never too late to be what you might have been! ~ George Eliott </em></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-90582009784763151612011-02-08T16:47:00.001+05:302011-02-08T16:48:18.627+05:30Not Giving Up!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawo1IpcyK3_XZIgMIRVNxP2pihe3V0f_hSsjRDJ9pvRRQ-x2evxe_NQ1NB0QP2QQR_p7LNrJbN7LzMiuS_Vvleo5tYGMy6X6X-4Lvkk0x5swgD9g6-k4LBweav67rqBdv4H31_awRpQJl/s1600/imagesCASC283B.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" h5="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiawo1IpcyK3_XZIgMIRVNxP2pihe3V0f_hSsjRDJ9pvRRQ-x2evxe_NQ1NB0QP2QQR_p7LNrJbN7LzMiuS_Vvleo5tYGMy6X6X-4Lvkk0x5swgD9g6-k4LBweav67rqBdv4H31_awRpQJl/s1600/imagesCASC283B.jpg" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>Hello you shiny, happy, people. Been quite some time, eh?<br />
Wish you guys a very, very Happy New Year! :)<br />
Yeah, I know I'm a little late in the day but then, punctuality has never really been my style and no, I'm not proud of it. <br />
In fact, I've had a pretty hard time trying to tame myself, instill some self-discipline in me and keep doing things which I need to do. Getting out of discipline can be a terrible, terrible thing. So I learnt in the last four months when I allowed the monotony of my routine life take complete control over me. <br />
<br />
It's kind of a phase when you get so embroiled in your day, doing the same task everyday that you forget whether you are living your life or is your life living you. It becomes more important to sit online in front of the office computer than to squeeze out an hour for taking a jog in the park or spending time with people who matter to you. <br />
<br />
Moments before I started writing this blog, I was going through my last post (which was written ages ago it seems). I was surprised to read it. No, frankly, I sound so mature and sorted-about-life kinda girl in that post. Truth be told, I'm not that sorted in my life. No one really is.<br />
After reading it and wondering what was I smoking when I wrote it, I realised I was perfectly sane when I wrote it. Those thoughts are mine and I completely believe in them. Just that, I forget to follow it too often. See, that's what monotony does to you. It makes you drift away from what is important, what matters for you to stay happy.<br />
<br />
My life has all been about being true to myself every day. It's one thing that I tell myself the moment I get up in the morning. I try to stay true to myself, do and speak what my conscience allows. The rest of the daily tasks automatically keep falling in place without me getting into any trouble. I have lost most of my friends in the last one year and haven't been very lucky in making new friends either. In office, I'm surrounded by people who are far older than me. These people discuss their daily affairs with me while I lend them a patient ear. Some speak about a pending divorce, then others can't stop gushing about their upcoming marriage and honeymoon plans. Some are contemplating over settling abroad then other are worried sick about their children's upcoming board exams. <br />
Some consider having a baby while others think of retirement. Nobody really bitches about a PYT's current flame or the next night-out. It's a different world altogether where they give me a peek-a-boo of what kind of life lies ahead. <br />
<div style="text-align: left;">It's scary at times. And I've learnt it the hard way that I can no longer afford to be my usual, chirpy self here in office. These people are far beyond the phase of life that I'm currently in, thus, all my issues seem trivial to them. Which is okay. It just helps me to figure out that there are things which are more important than what troubles me right now. </div><br />
It helps me to differentiate between my professional self (where I try to focus on the more sincere and reliable part of my personality) and my usual, normal self (where I'm a complete brat for my friends and family). No, I won't stop being a brat. I won't stop saying what I really feel to my friends and family. I simply won't mature beyond my years and pretend to be some wise hoe all the time. It's just too much of unnecessary work. I do act wise when there is a need to be and I guess that's more than enough. Enough of defensiveness here....so I'll rest my case. Till next time. :)<br />
<br />
<br />
Never underestimate your problems or your ability to deal with them ~ Robert H. Schuller <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
</div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-88050020214687267622010-10-24T19:45:00.003+05:302010-10-24T21:52:28.504+05:30Uncomplicating Life<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEHBfvx3zHF0zMG24DWMw_37uqzQosAkWq9-FFEH1MHmNrrBPRZKbQkXhqnBGTSwuVK2cqOMuuOeQalC1sS9mZOVGOLqrv-RNd2WC7L1YSNHvfJ-KxBxA5J3uGVKQcys2voaVz8WQnbcv/s1600/Happy_Girl_on_a_Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixEHBfvx3zHF0zMG24DWMw_37uqzQosAkWq9-FFEH1MHmNrrBPRZKbQkXhqnBGTSwuVK2cqOMuuOeQalC1sS9mZOVGOLqrv-RNd2WC7L1YSNHvfJ-KxBxA5J3uGVKQcys2voaVz8WQnbcv/s320/Happy_Girl_on_a_Beach.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I've been up and away for quite some time now and had my own reasons to do so apart from the usual, of course - being lazy. The last two months have been crazy - filled with all sorts of emotions possible, boredom, speculation, anxiety, dejection, self-realization, ditching, being ditched, joy and what not! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">My last post reads about how I was getting to know the "real" society we live in closely and here I am now, comfortably away from it. Having chosen to become a part of the mere periphery of this society. For the sake of a comfortable career, I distanced myself from all the drama, dejection and drudgery (if you may call it). </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Two months ago, I was a journalist. Today, I am rubbing shoulders with corporate big-wigs, unlearning the art of being sensitive and training my mind to become as snobbishly professional as possible. But then, there are moments of course, special moments where I wonder if all this change was worth it, if I have done the right thing and most importantly, will I ever be able to make friends again. Luckily, I really dont have any reasons to regret and I'm quite loving this challenge to fit in here.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Three weeks into this new corporate world taught me one thing (apart from million other corporate jargon ) - that once you're out of school/college, dont expect to find friends in aloof colleagues, being sensitive doesnt help and people will deceive you in order to get ahead! I guess, I'm still getting used to this hard fact.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">I miss the people I befriended during my college days. At work, I wish I could just simply get away from the laptop, chuck those heels and formals and meet up with them in jeans and chappals. And I know I will have to keep bumping into them to keep my sanity alive. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Too much of update about me. On second thoughts, I wonder how many of us forget to live for the sake of earning a living. How many of us cancel our meet-up plans with old friends for the sake of catching up on sleep, finishing pending work etctera. How many of us yearn to find genuine, smiling, trustowrthy friends/mate while leading a workoholics life but are not able to come across many or at times, even one? I've realized there are many such people like me! Pretending to be insensitive coz of the cold vibes they get from others but who cherish their old friends like gold. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Thus, there are a few changes I've decided to incorporate in my life which I think are more essential than getting a nice job, a fat salary and a successful career. And yes, I speak from experience. </span></div><ul><li><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Give a polite smile to strangers if I happen to make an eye-contact with them.</strong> (There is nothing more reassuring than to bump into a stranger, even for a minute, and realise that they like to see you as you are)</span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Not to make assumptions about anyone</strong>. (Because I really dont know what their journey has been all about)</span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Forgive but not forget</strong>. (because If I forget, I'm bound to repeat the mistake again)</span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Respect people and their choices in life, no matter how terribly different they might be from yours.</strong> (Because one would hate to be in a world where everyone was alike, duh, what about surprises?)</span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Try to be a lil more calmer, happier and make peace with what I've got in life.</strong> (Do I really need to explain this one? ;))</span></span></div></li>
<li><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Keep my friends, my loved one close and ignore the male and female bitches and the negative energy they bring along with them</strong>. (That is my tried and tested mantra for happiness.)</span></span></div></li>
</ul><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">So, what is it that motivates you to be happy or seems like a way to become a better person? </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Would love to know. </span><br />
<br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times;"><span style="font-size: large;">The reason people find it so hard to be happy is that they always see the past better than it was, the present worse than it is, and the future less resolved than it will be ~ Marcel Pagnol</span> </span></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><span style="font-size: large;"></span>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-90639063972587039762010-07-22T18:49:00.005+05:302010-07-22T19:11:29.634+05:30Gay me some love!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjteQLs9YIPgarnL75uoZpfXFY7gpEIVP5cPA4xtMrqejAYQ8xDe1vfM-g5JM1yH6zq_TxfM5f3NaMgfj-1hFD04M_Gai-KMD3XXruSXx5I93MKnQd5M7CX3wPfrSt5LbKRAHm00fSV5GHP/s1600/ss0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hw="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjteQLs9YIPgarnL75uoZpfXFY7gpEIVP5cPA4xtMrqejAYQ8xDe1vfM-g5JM1yH6zq_TxfM5f3NaMgfj-1hFD04M_Gai-KMD3XXruSXx5I93MKnQd5M7CX3wPfrSt5LbKRAHm00fSV5GHP/s320/ss0.jpg" /></a></div>Alright, was just reading another blog here and realized that I haven't updated this page in two whole months. <em>gasp gasp</em>....that has to be the longest time that I stayed away from this page ever since I made it. Anyhow, I'm back and how! <br />
Update on life, love and fate...here goes:<br />
<ul><li><strong>Life</strong> - Still continuing with the very exhausting internship.....social life is finished, friends have graduated, got married, got lost and I'm still here, slogging. But on second thoughts, won't crib about it anymore coz nobody really wants to read how pathetic someone else's life is. Gotta say, that is the only lesson I've learnt about working for page 3. People would always want to read about how exciting and happening other's lives are, not otherwise. </li>
<li><strong>Love</strong> - Hmm, as <a href="http://peter-blogvibes.blogspot.com/">peter </a>puts it aptly, no love lost, no love found! :((</li>
<li><strong>Fate </strong>- has somehow entered into a secret liaison with all my enemies (wondering if I have any) and is currently being loyal to them. All their imaginary banes are proving effective now. </li>
</ul>Ahem, now that the cribbing part is over. Lets get back to some serious blogging. At times, when I'm not working and my mind is realllly empty (yes, that happens too), I wonder how many gay friends one can possibly have or even how many gay people one know of. Before coming to page 3, I knew of only one gay friend. He was my best friend way back in high school and at that point of time, I even refused to acknowledge the fact that he was a homo. I just took him as my best girlfriend in the garb of a guy. But today, I can name at least 30 gay people I know even in my sleep. They are like everywhere....designers, stylists, businessmen, actors, sportsmen. Initially, my reaction would be like..."whoa, is he gay? I never knew that" and pat would come the reply, "Really? Didn't knew? What, were you sleeping all this while"?<br />
<br />
Not that I have anything against them. I'm a supporter of gay rights. And not a closet supporter either. From the time I was a kid, I have never been able to understand attacks upon the gay community. There are so many qualities that make up a human being... by the time I get through with all the things that I really admire about people, what they do with their private parts is probably so low on the list that it is irrelevant. In fact, most of them are really nice. They are far more in touch with their sensitive side, are genuinely friendly or someone with whom you could have the most pleasant conversations ever. But the handpicked few who are snooty, I mentally scream at them, "Beyond you, BITCH". But then, those much-famous "straight" celebs could give them a run for their money in terms being snooty too. <br />
It's the prejudice that other straight men have against them that disturbs me. Not that I'm really fond of the much famous MCP mentality that guys in Delhi have...but every time that someone passes a snide remark on someones sexual orientation, I feel like going ahead and reprimanding them (though I never do it). Why does it bother you if someone chooses to sleep with a guy or a girl or Why on earth are you getting so uncomfortable if the person concerned is comfortable in his own skin? Wasn't Section 377 decriminalised more than a year ago? <br />
<br />
It's not that they have committed some serious crime or something. If they finally have the guts to come out of the closet, why can't these narrow minded people come out of their obnoxiousness and hypocritical standards. Seriously, beyond me! <br />
<br />
I've met very few dumb gay guys. It takes some intelligence and insight to figure out you're gay and then a tremendous amount of balls to live it and live it proudly. ~Jason BatemanPriancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-38720070379134836632010-05-26T01:17:00.000+05:302010-05-26T01:17:57.477+05:30It's back in my life .....<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHilcuMLalqmWj3GB4jSGkY7kORWLdlvKKEGrX76E02T67h2giEsoKLVWU3DHTZy55CJr7WPnBaM-HaX-Ppj6jlLWVhSWcu_WVumymX6BUSTP4p24o-Y0Ze8toZmxSFDvjZzWEEpzo_eGo/s1600/UU8sftjMcqksrh0uCFBDibTno1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHilcuMLalqmWj3GB4jSGkY7kORWLdlvKKEGrX76E02T67h2giEsoKLVWU3DHTZy55CJr7WPnBaM-HaX-Ppj6jlLWVhSWcu_WVumymX6BUSTP4p24o-Y0Ze8toZmxSFDvjZzWEEpzo_eGo/s320/UU8sftjMcqksrh0uCFBDibTno1_400.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I know I have blogged about it </span></span><a href="http://prankilicious.blogspot.com/2010/01/im-going-to-sleep-with-him-again.html#comments"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">here </span></span></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">before. But seriously, loneliness is a dangerous situation to be in. An extended siesta with this feeling can leave you feeling robbed of all the positiveness and happiness inside and around you. I admit, I'm a chronic victim to loneliness. I've been lonely. A lot. I still am.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Let's just say I live in one of the most populated cities in the world. I am surrounded by a lot of people at work and at parties which I have to attend. And yet, I'm lonely. So lonely that I tend to break down while working, while walking on the road. It's this awful feeling where you realize everybody around you is there only because they want something from you. What about friends, you say?</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Friends eventually found other friends, I say. People whom my friends found out to be more fun-loving and more available than I ever could be. Yes, I feel bad that my friends forgot me when I didn't ever gave them a chance to ignore me. But it's alright. They don't care much. I used to keep everything on hold for them, postpone my meetings and work just to spend enough time with them. And they didn't care enough. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Life is funny. When I was younger, say in college, I always wanted to be at all the happening places with all my friends. They did used to go out but never invited me along. Now, I'm there at all the page 3 parties and major gigs in town, attending the most premier events. Just that I have nobody to hang out with there. It's only I and my work. I go for shopping alone, eat at restaurants alone and have even watched movie shows all alone now. Simply because nobody was interested in accompanying me. </span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I try not to feel sorry about myself but then if anybody else would be in my position, I obviously would feel bad for them. Then whom am I fooling? </span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div><div style="font: normal normal normal 14px/25px 'Trebuchet MS', verdana, arial, helvetica, sans-serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There is no greater sorrow than to recall in misery the time when we were happy ~ Dante</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><br />
</div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-49404995989728260542010-05-21T21:47:00.002+05:302010-05-21T21:49:16.100+05:30And they call me WEIRD!<div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh90-temROWaVHLchTT2foEVFq1-LDt3u6wUPiS62z7przPL_omIJqyXcB93mz4zzAaQAnX6vKwyVnCGQYaW0w-R0gTIUUfs-pXgI__nhWzO43MN5s4ItM7TPn8otUEkf5CFFzUI3Jw4uln/s1600/img_girlTexting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><img border="0" gu="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh90-temROWaVHLchTT2foEVFq1-LDt3u6wUPiS62z7przPL_omIJqyXcB93mz4zzAaQAnX6vKwyVnCGQYaW0w-R0gTIUUfs-pXgI__nhWzO43MN5s4ItM7TPn8otUEkf5CFFzUI3Jw4uln/s320/img_girlTexting.jpg" /></span></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">"How weird are you?"</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I fail to understand why most of the people keep bombarding me with this same question. Eccentric, Yes, I could be. Weird? Definitely not! On the hindsight, I find most of the people equally weird around me. So, I tend to mentally forgive them if they fail to understand me. I'm not any better at understanding fellow human beings. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My life is slowly becoming a walking contradiction. A life where I swtich personalities depending upon my geological location. When I'm working as a Page 3 journalist, I get to meet some of the most high-profile celebrities and socialites. I get special entries and reserved seats at big do's where I address social big-wigs not as Sir or Mam but with their first name, chatting up with them as if I was one of them. Of course, all this is but a farce. I've realised how fake smiles are, how pretentious personalities can be. They talk to me only so that I might give them some good press. Once you are out of the event, you are the normal, middle-class girl again who is struggling to make a mark in her career.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">I'm at a loss when at home, usually because I'm too tired when I return. I don't give crap and don't take any from my siblings who are way too busy in their lives. Mostly, home is just a pit-stop before I embark for work again.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And then, comes my favourite part. Despite having saved enough to own a sedan now, I'm still travelling by metro. Because this is where I meet most interesting people. People who are far more interesting than those socialities whom I interview. At the risk of being called a pervert (realises her "about me" already mentions that, anyhow who cares), I've started peeping into other's lives, while travelling in the metro. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It all happened by chance. A girl sitting next to me, dressed as a complete wannabe (the kinds you can easily find in a metro) was busy texting on her phone. I tried to overlook but it isn't exactly my fault if the text size on her screen was too big. I happened to read her msgs, which went like:</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Girl - Nahi, pehle aap apna naam batao</span></em></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Sender- Mera naam toh Raj (</em>how fake!) <em>hai. </em></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Girl - Acha, naam chodo, aapko mera no. kahan se mila? Aapne kabhi dekha hai mujhe?</span></em></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><em><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Sender - Haan, aapke college ke bahar. </span></em></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">My keen observation skills told me that she was going to give her correspondence exams. The book in her lap said "King's Champion, Open"</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Wow! The girl was supposedly texting a random guy who happened to get her no. by chance and was simply trying his luck! I was amused. But then consciously stopped peeping because it was so stupid and my inherent social skills seemed to be cringing within. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The very next day, I was sitting next to a lady who could be as old as my mother. Grey hairs and all, she seeemd to be headed towards her office when she got a text and replied. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Sender: No dear, I'm only 35.</em> (I mentally screamed, ONLY???? 35 IS A LOT OF AGE MAN)</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">The lady passed a hand through her hairs blushed and started replying. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Lady - Ok. I am 35 too but don't look like one. I look younger.</em> ( I again mentally screamed,, YEAH, RIGHT!)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>Sender - I'm waiting to see you in person dear. Let's meet up.</em> </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">Ok, this one was seriously funny. I've realised its not only socialites who want the spotlight on them. Normal people won't mind some attention too. Nevermind the fact that it is from some random despo who has got nothing more than a free msg scheme in his phone and horniness on his mind. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">And they call ME weird. Of all people!!! Didn't I say, life is funny! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;">It's better to watch things than to do them ~ Homer Simpson</span></div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-71320999736486852672010-04-12T13:19:00.000+05:302010-04-12T13:19:03.578+05:30The Age of Innocence<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpMFvvIqi6Nvu_5UkI7m0Ib-bT9xqEXj_Ugy2ySLe4gdkH6uw8BxTiTpYHIAUoLb5ZUN7tfqxy3CEMd_oGdFMj533yh0eUgTrOHYdlbk-EKLBTszzHea99oYvCgAWDnviZLXuJXhTIkJ2F/s1600/untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpMFvvIqi6Nvu_5UkI7m0Ib-bT9xqEXj_Ugy2ySLe4gdkH6uw8BxTiTpYHIAUoLb5ZUN7tfqxy3CEMd_oGdFMj533yh0eUgTrOHYdlbk-EKLBTszzHea99oYvCgAWDnviZLXuJXhTIkJ2F/s320/untitled.jpg" wt="true" /></a></div><br />
The thought, rather a memory, occured to me yesterday. I doubt if any one of you remembers the television serial "Just Mohabbat" that used to be aired years ago on Sony. I recalled a scene (all of a sudden) where the protagonist, Jai (grown up version) is crying. His imaginary friend, whose name now escapes my memory walks up to him and asks why is he crying<br />
<br />
<em>Jai - I'm crying because I have lost my innocence. </em><br />
<br />
<em>Imaginary friend - What's that? Where did you lose it? Did you drop it somewhere?</em><br />
And there, his friend begins searching for innocence among the dusty ground, as if it was a misplaced ball, lost while playing gully cricket. <br />
<br />
I smiled to myself when I thought of this scene. Weird scenes, which pop up from the deepest layers of memory and tell you what have you been missing all this while. Maybe, it's criminal to be innocent now. I, see my ten year old cousin sister who has got far more attitude than what a bitchy babe in any of the chick flicks could ever have. Yet, my younger sis is innocent and admirable in her own way and I, do not say this simply because she is my sister. I say this because I know that she is yet unaware of the world and how it works. She tends to act smart only about things she can understand. Her smartness often gives way to innocent questions and remarks which leave me feeling amused. <br />
<br />
And with this thought comes the knowledge that no matter how hard I try, I cannot be my innocent self again. I want to unlearn the art of ignoring random men who tend to check me out when I travel. I want to unlearn the fact that people judge other people on the basis of which car they drive and what have they accomplished in life. I want to unlearn those fake smiles. I want to kill this spirit of cut throat competition, revenge,professionalism and probably lose a bit of attitude too. <br />
<br />
I want to smile a smile which is reflected in my eyes....even if it happens once in a blue moon. I want to paint with water colours, smear glue on my hands and desk and wait so that I can peel it off. I want to dance on the tunes of mowgli and ride my bicycle again all around my colony. I want to believe in fairy tales where pumpkins were coaches, mice would turn into horses and the world was a beautiful place during the day, but scary by night. I want to be a child again!<br />
<br />
The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but Time ~ William Butler YeatsPriancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-91170966327042298772010-03-30T13:15:00.001+05:302010-03-30T13:17:01.789+05:30Changes are Good<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1ScsdTPcDRAjVYt-rKuaRwB9EeT6kd06cOoJLndTrcvSbnX5aTL9rpKO2A36UDxxZF8wRO8p3Fw9nExVh5SPkMXsotuwMMutiU9134MN2yDufJncpnfsoq8SD0ZmQvF30GSyXRFvHwzM/s1600/changes400x300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" nt="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE1ScsdTPcDRAjVYt-rKuaRwB9EeT6kd06cOoJLndTrcvSbnX5aTL9rpKO2A36UDxxZF8wRO8p3Fw9nExVh5SPkMXsotuwMMutiU9134MN2yDufJncpnfsoq8SD0ZmQvF30GSyXRFvHwzM/s320/changes400x300.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<em>It's been a long and probably well deserved break for me</em>. I'm back, rather, I'm supposed to be back at work. This is what I keep telling my mind all the time. But taking commands is not something I'm quite used to, neither is my mind. <br />
<br />
This year kickstarted with a lot of changes. Everyday a new change unfolds itself, forcing me to throw away my comfort zones, my comfortable, complacent self whom I knew so well into a spiral of anonymity. No, I've not doped. I've had my share of sleep and saying I'm stressed wouldn't be true either. It's just that I'm taking my time to soak it all in. I'm taking my time to get used to the constant changes unfolding in front of me. <br />
<br />
<strong>Change #1 - Bespectacled to Boho Chic</strong> <br />
I finally got my surgery done. I'm still taking my time to get used to the fact that I do not need to wear my red rimmed specs anymore. I don't need to undergo the hassle of wearing lenses every morning. I can see well with my naked eyes. Too bad, my different colored lenses are a waste now. Moreoveer, the doc asked me to stay away from eye makeup for another one month. Result? I look dead without kajal...as a person at work commented today morning. Too bad, she is right. <br />
<br />
<strong>Change #2 - Classroom to Cubicles</strong><br />
I'm constantly reminding myself that I'm done with my fair share of studying. At least for the time being. I get out of my home everyday. Only to go to an office rather than college. Studies over, slogging is about to commence. I'm somewhere in the middle. Still an intern. <br />
<br />
<strong>Change #3 - Dreams to Dread</strong><br />
As I type this, I'm sitting in the Times of India ka office. This is a place where I'd always wanted to be. The place is HUGE. The facilities are endless. The work as an intern is almost next to none. This place is way better than my college. Anyhow, the fact that it's an office makes my stomach churn. Logically speaking, this is my fifth work place in the last four years (I was always working, even through college) and though it is by far, the most beautiful, biggest, sexiest office where I've worked till now, I'm not liking it here. <br />
I'm afraid I'm bored of offices already. Alright, I want to work. But I really don't want to spend the majority of my life, sitting in a cubicle, murdering my lil bit of social life too. Guess you can't have your cake and eat it too!<br />
<br />
<strong>Change #4 - Kadki to K-Ching</strong><br />
Yeah, this is the only change that I 'm really happy about. I'm no longer broke. I will be paid for my internship in the months to come. Besides the freelance projects keep my hands full. All the time. I can finally spend as much as I want to. On whatever I want to. Yes, I feel empowered. Considering the shopholic I am, I ought to. I mean, come on, I just got myself a new phone, bought shitty expensive stuff which I'm still wondering if I'll wear or not and still managed to save quite a few grands. I likes! <br />
<br />
<strong>Change # 5 - Chaotic to Calm</strong><br />
I'm finally at peace...or shall we say, this is the highest stage that I've reached so far in this game called "Chuck Chaos, Catch Calmness". :p<br />
I screamed at my sis only twice in the last week, threw tantrums in front of bf and dad/mom hardly three times and didn't feel like slapping anyone. Wow. I'm improving. <br />
<br />
<strong>Change # 6 - Frustrated to Free</strong><br />
Yes, I'm free now. No, not with that fattening pack of chips. I'm free as in I'm no longer burdened with work. In fact, there is hardly any work to do. So much so, that I even manage to finish all my freelance projects in the office itself. Just that I'm not free to go out and roam around. But the work stress is definitely gone. <br />
Yes, you can send in your sweater to be knitted. Seriously, I'm that velli. Might as well do it here. Charges? Only Rs 100 per minute. :P<br />
<br />
P.S - I never slap anyone. Never have. Never will. It's just that urge which I have mastered to control.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>Change is inevitable - except from a vending machine ~ Robert C. GallagherPriancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-27911276140414931232010-03-06T15:27:00.000+05:302010-03-06T15:27:38.088+05:30I have my fingers crossed....<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYOcQ9Wnx3BVwVDKKmsJ9tD7leb5WO1fhDRmBHvSeQ07iKz27X2hxp4r1FbWA45XAau2RgI2MTykNJw57ykSBbxzv0dK8YQToXMLdc5_v3jj-zN-g3bjaaYhORqUpnj7txgORVy_hyjpnZ/s1600/fingers-crossed2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYOcQ9Wnx3BVwVDKKmsJ9tD7leb5WO1fhDRmBHvSeQ07iKz27X2hxp4r1FbWA45XAau2RgI2MTykNJw57ykSBbxzv0dK8YQToXMLdc5_v3jj-zN-g3bjaaYhORqUpnj7txgORVy_hyjpnZ/s320/fingers-crossed2.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">There is a lot of stuff about me which even the closest of my pals don't know about. Random stuff, such as I keep imagining how would my sister react when I run away for a world trip from home (which is never going to happen *wink*). Everybody has some random details which are not worth telling to others. I had one such random detail, hmm, online secret, should we say, about me. I loved this particular blog...</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I can't recall how I came across this blog for the first time. But I'd been hooked ever since. I never marked it in the following list or blog roll and all that jazz. And still I used to visit it everyday, hoping for a new post. So much so, that the name of her blog became the password for my lappy. There are things which tend to stick with you. Her words were one of them. The reason why I loved this blog so much was precisely because the author of the blog was exactly my age. Blogging for her seemed to be a refuge from the world around her. She was from </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> Constitución</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: normal;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">, i suppose. She never posted anything very specific about her life, just random ponderings and thoughts. Her thoughts were exactly like mine. Only that she cared enough to post them. I didn't. It was fun going to someone else's blog and reading your own thoughts. A frequent blogger she is.</span></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Sadly enough, she has not posted in a long time now. And I'm scared. I have this stupid, stupid premonition that she is not well or something. She lived in the town which suffered the maximum damage in the recent earthquake to have hit 53 countries. While working, while studying, I keep wondering what she would be doing right now. Is she all right? If she is, why isn't she posting something? I can't comment or get in touch since she'd always disabled comments on her blog. She might wouldn't even know that I exist on other side of the globe. And she hasn't posted anything since the quake. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know I think way too much. I know I should better worry about thousand other things in my life which are not right. I know she might be plain busy or not in a mood to post anything. But it's been quite some time now and it's strange because she used to post everyday. E.V.E.R.Y.D.A.Y</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm not selfish or waiting for her post to kill my boredom. I just hope she is alright. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">We have been taught to believe that negative equals realistic and positive equals unrealistic ~ Susan Jeffers </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-42441394603135907512010-02-28T23:03:00.001+05:302010-02-28T23:06:57.296+05:30Learning to stick...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUd65qtS658yKpi-FFAzY8SkDmlPnJa56okZGaljc0e7AFQv4IDObvoFD6iFbqJidS9JOVLoUoJZElp1cPzttm5-J9Cq6rEvDvqB5mLpSxpIFi7YJibE1QGsNvcAidEZus6pnXKRG1Wv1w/s1600-h/postsecret.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUd65qtS658yKpi-FFAzY8SkDmlPnJa56okZGaljc0e7AFQv4IDObvoFD6iFbqJidS9JOVLoUoJZElp1cPzttm5-J9Cq6rEvDvqB5mLpSxpIFi7YJibE1QGsNvcAidEZus6pnXKRG1Wv1w/s320/postsecret.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I was young,young enough where my mind was uninfluenced, uninspired to be impressed upon and all that I was armed with was a rather naive understanding of the world.......Yes, that was the time when some of my most important character traits were born.Some of my most prominent character traits include my extreme anger, my belief in honesty and hard work and my aversion to guys.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Funny it is. I was deeply influenced by my dad to be honest in matters of money and merit. I never accepted something which was not duly earned by me. So much so, that I promptly asked my teacher to flunk me when I was in sixth grade...My Math teacher had given me 42/100 (I barely managed to pass...which was good as I'd been flunking in my last two terminals). Much to my dismay, I found out that there was a calculation mistake. My score was only 36/100. I counted and re-counted. It was still 36/100. My heart sank and still I went back to the teacher and asked her to rectify the mistake. She looked at me scornfully (obviously, your math teacher is not going to be very pleased by you, if you tell her that she has committed a calculation error). On second thoughts, she might as well have been thinking whether I was out of my mind! Anyhow, she promptly changed the 42 to 36 with a big red mark, FAIL written on my answer sheet. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was happy that day. I had managed to stay true to myself. It's an altogether different fact that the rest of the class was jeering at me, calling me a jerk to have done that! The scolding that I got from my family for failing again didn't make things any better either. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The next semester I promptly passed, with a score of (hold your breath) 84/100. (thanks to my new math tutor). </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I remember I was crying when I got my answer sheet. I was happy, while the teacher kept glaring at me scornfully. (yes, she hated me for some unfathomable reason. My math teachers have never really liked me anyhow). </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That was years ago. Cut to the present. I'm grown up, still trying to stick to those ideals. People still make fun of me, all the time. And sadly enough, I get to know about it (hurts!). I see people around me , squandering their parent's wealth, flunking, getting fake degrees and they still call me a jerk for I don't drive a posh car ( what posh, I don't even drive a car or a bicycle for that matter), I don't hang out at the famous nightclubs, I'm always slogging, not living my life and I'm not COOL enough ..whatever.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My most major struggle has been not to give in to sycophancy and believe me, I've been paying quite a heavy price for it for quite some time now. I know my life will be a hell lot easier only If I could tweak my rigid morals a bit here and there...But I am not going to do it. I respect myself. I want to continue respecting myself. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Maybe I will drive a car one day, the one that is hard earned and I will have enough time to go clubbing and partying without having to worry about my assignments, my submissions, magazines and what not!</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Till then, I'll try to be content with my life. I'll try to crib a little less. And make peace with myself because this is the life I chose for myself. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">If you don't stand for something, you will fall for everything ~ Alexander Hamilton</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">P. S - The pic included is ironical to the content but it pretty much sums up my mental state. It says what my words couldn't.</span></span></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-27469572276876752482010-02-15T10:18:00.003+05:302010-02-15T10:50:59.468+05:30Men and their stupid inquisitiveness<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXlltfaIht93Duu2mmAA6u6usIW99DCtnCy4W_V36moLiP971O0O74VlqJB2I5eUqDnDCEY9hr4fKOrH4IQ_xBW259XWS_PI8REyd1QVQDgYs8TtD7-j9ZtaTBKtKKR1H7NXRI4-h5Ytr/s1600-h/stupidmen.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 108px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguXlltfaIht93Duu2mmAA6u6usIW99DCtnCy4W_V36moLiP971O0O74VlqJB2I5eUqDnDCEY9hr4fKOrH4IQ_xBW259XWS_PI8REyd1QVQDgYs8TtD7-j9ZtaTBKtKKR1H7NXRI4-h5Ytr/s320/stupidmen.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5438335780144731218" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Let me think of it this way. . . you are only as good as your last performance. A small sabbatical is enough to entitle people around you to point fingers at you and deem you not good enough. You cannot be lucky in every frigging department of your life. I believe I got my fair share of luck in the talent and love department.</span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">And for all those suckers who can't help but stalk me regarding my personal life, this is for you man-bitches </span></span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I'm very much entitled to my share of personal life. Don't you dare interfere in it unless you are looking forward to be thoroughly insulted. If I trusted you and cared for you enough, I would have kept you in the loop. So, please don't try to figure out the details of my personal life and jump to ridiculous conclusions.<br /></span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Yes, I do not believe in god and in the concept of marriages. You heard me right. So, don't ya dare raise your eyebrows at me and decide that I'm not good enough for you. Because, I'm anyhow way out of your league and I am never going to give you even the remotest illusion that I'm interested in you. Try to accept it. </span></span></li><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I've had enough of guys who try to lecture me on how I should behave responsibly or get my moral ethics straight. I know my limits very much, thank you. Now, get the fuck out of my zone. </span></span></li></ul><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">I know that I sound like an arrogant bitch on PMS for what I stated above but truth be told, I'm not. I'm in the most sensible moods of mine when I post this. It's just that I've been too drowned in work and the last thing I could expect was unnecessary male attention. Let me set the record straight for once and all - I'm not interested in you guys, alright? </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The irony of life is such.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Men who are nice, well read and have a good sense of humor have got better things to do than hit on me. (And I secretly appreciate them for this)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Men who have got no brains but are all brawl can't stop bothering me. ( And I do not respect you guys at all)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">P.S. On second thoughts, I had the most wonderful surprises bestowed on me this Valentines by S. I'm glad some good things are always there. True love is like a pet who will still lick you and love you on your return, no matter how cranky a day you've had at work. Bliss!<br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Don't let a man put anything over you except an umbrella ~ Mae West</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-small;"><br /></span></div></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3450675761210315736.post-60101134701926134042010-01-29T20:30:00.004+05:302010-01-29T21:07:18.591+05:30I'm going to sleep with him again tonight.....<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMa7Cd4a15WVKvz2N2XnWZ03zVirkk3YibtDgbanlSu8QwFZDJhRE4IP9RirxKOpnWUsHVfFlFcxlIY1hS6PnjO-mUNPKz3cqZrMLTvzwvB8mD2NuT-q7-ULTPyZTbaVLjH2UVMpS_AU1/s1600-h/D+awakning.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaMa7Cd4a15WVKvz2N2XnWZ03zVirkk3YibtDgbanlSu8QwFZDJhRE4IP9RirxKOpnWUsHVfFlFcxlIY1hS6PnjO-mUNPKz3cqZrMLTvzwvB8mD2NuT-q7-ULTPyZTbaVLjH2UVMpS_AU1/s320/D+awakning.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432185771559702994" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br />I don't know how to put it.....But i think being lonely is not fun anymore. I used to tell myself that I am my best friend, I should love myself, bla bla bla. The sad part is that I've been really lonely in the past few days. So much so, that it has begun to scare me. </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Every evening when I walk back home, when I'm travelling alone, when I'm working, in class ...everywhere...I can sense it creeping up behind me. It does not say anything. It just sits besides me, smirking at me. It seems to say..."Hey babes, I'm back! did you miss me all this time?" </span></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I hardly talk to anyone in class or at my workplace and that is not helping at all. In fact, I know it makes me feel all the more lonelier. It's as if this wretched feeling of loneliness hugged me once and then, forgot to move away. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Just yesterday, I was talking to a really sweet, fellow mate of mine (which is rare..both mine talking and my classmates being sweet to me) and we discussed what after studies? Further studies or job? It was out of chance that I told her that I'm working with a youth mag, writing content for online portals, managing content writers, attending college and attending various meetings which my work demands....I don't know why she was dumbstruck. She gaped at me and said "Look at you, you are only 21, you need to slow down" ........</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Truth be told, I actually feel burdened all the time. Even in my sleep. But then this is the lifestyle I chose for myself. I like writing. So I take up any writing job which does not ask me to interact with people. Writing is a solitary profession after all. I've realized I have a very, very low tolerance for stupidity and girly behavior (no offence). No, to put it in better words, I avoid talking to people, who I know do not matter. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I know this is not the best thing to do. But the fact is I already have too much work and indulging in unnecessary bitching sessions, gossiping or talking about lame things just doesn't excite me anymore. Although I do take time out to have fun, very regularly.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I've been working overtime, compromising on my sleep and my reading hours just so that I can squeeze in some time to meet people I really wanted to meet in a long time..like my best friend, S, my college and school friends...</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">The sad part is ( its been a trend, mind you)...I work overtime to get free early...i take out time..get all dressed and excited about not having to work for a day..and then my friends don't show up! And its not as if they are too busy..they just cancel the plan at the last moment or they keep sleeping (Really, I'm not lying) while I keep waiting for them. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">Having worked, being stressed of managing time, dressing up, getting excited...only to be left dejected again is not the best feeling in the world. It sucks actually. But I've stopped complaining to these people now. Because they're all that I've got. Today too, something similar happened and I'm not feeling too good about it. I tried to smile about it, I ended up crying in the loo. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">It's night time again. I'm going back to my bed..will do the remaining work tomorrow because my weekend plans have been foiled too...So I've nothing to do but work this weekend.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">I can see loneliness coming up again. It's climbing on my bed,...with shoes on. Its grinning at me. It goes and comfortably gets settled under my quilt. I know he is going to make me sleep with him again tonight. I just know.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:georgia;">What is the opposite of two? A lonely me, a lonely you ~ Richard Wilbur </span></span></div></div>Priancahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01850651858815490076noreply@blogger.com13