What doth a title do?

Hai.
It's been three weeks. I haven't updated. I don't have anything interesting handy to post. So, I present to you [in surround sound, where available] this 'article' I wrote and sent to JLT a while ago. It was supposed to showcase my writing ability. My writing skillz.
Needless to say, I didn't even get an acknowledgment e-mail. I haven't edited it to make it better. Have fun, you guys.

Indecision

When I’m rich and famous, I will give lots of interviews.

“It’s what we rich people do to stay famous” is what I will be famously quoted as saying in an interview. I’m pretty sure it’s the only famous thing I’m going to say. The only other thing I can say with any degree of confidence is that I suck at making decisions.

Most interviews would follow this general theme:

Question: “If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”

Answer: “Ah, I want to become more decisive and not waste my precious time over such trivial questions like: ‘You want fries like that?’ Ooh, on the other hand, it would be awesome if I could be a little taller than I am. Err, let me think… mm… one minute. Aha, got it. No wait…”

Alright, back to the present.

Considering that, if I’m told, “Hey! Write something about anything.” you can safely bet that this is the end of my dream of becoming a writer.

Now usually, I would have given up, moved on to more boring stuff and when asked about my stint as a writer, acted cool.

However, I didn’t count on one thing: How insanely boring boredom can be. Recalling something about how a true man turns his weakness into strength and armed with quotes like “Don’t judge a book by its movie”, here I am. (Rock you like only I can (because, you know, I’m unique. Just like everyone else.) (Yep, another one of those quotes.) So, after spending an hour debating on the extremely hot topic ‘Which pen do I use to pen down my extremely creative, thought provoking yet witty thoughts?’ and picking one that refused to work, I started writing.

Yay.

So, I finally got off my arse and did something constructive. OK, so even if I didn’t get off my arse, at least I did something. Now that I’ve started doing stuff, I think I’ll solve the energy crisis facing the world and find cures for diseases like cancer and AIDS. Yes, be prepared for new, path breaking developments. As soon as I figure out which problem to tackle first.

Oh and for the people who ‘safely bet’ on me never making it as a writer, “Gambling is bad. Mmkay…”

PS: I spent over 4 hours trying to come up with an appropriate starting for this. Writer’s block? I think not. Or maybe it was writer’s block. I don’t know.

In other news, I now have a follower. And I must say, he is the most admirable, smart, intelligent, handsome [insert 20 adjectives of your own choice here] person I know.
Ok bai.

The Getaway

A single mistake would mean the end. His very life depended on the decisions he made. Run, he told himself. The very next instance, he forced himself to calm down and brought his over-sensitive nerves under some semblance of control. One thing he could not afford was to make a wrong move.

"Run. Run like the wind. 'Run' like the wind? OK... blow .. NO!! drift like the wind. Er...
Oh, I need to work on my drifting skills if I want to progress anymore in Most Wanted 2.
OK, OK, run like a cheetah. I need a stiff drink. 'kyunki cheetah bhi peeta hai.' Hehe. But a drink would be good. Must make a break for it soon."

Dusk was receding and it was starting to get dark. He could see the glimmer and dazzle of artificial lights all around him. As if he was in the spotlight and the entire world watched to see what his next move would be. He wished they would get bored and switch the channel.

"Switch the channel. The channel. Television!!!"

His heart missed a beat. His stomach felt what his punching bag must feel like after the daily morning workout.
He was in top physical condition. He had to be. He would need every muscle in his body to perform to its full potential, if not more.
He couldn't bear to miss another episode of Samurai Jack. Not 2 episodes in a row. Yet, he stood there. Watching time and cars go by.
As much as he hated missing another episode, death was still less lucrative. The anti-depressants seemed to be working just fine.

"All I need is one break. One teeny tiny tootsie wootsie little break. I know I can get through. One break. I can even see the end."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a slight dis-orientation in the steady, streamlined flow of traffic. Bending his knees, he waited in anticipation for what seemed like an eternity. The adrenaline pumping.
He loved the rush he felt at moments like these. He craved it. He lived for it.
Suddenly, he tore off. Right through the cars zooming past at speeds a cheetah could never even dream of matching. No, not even if he was drunk and already hallucinating.

He crossed the road safely. On the whole, rather comfortably. No untoward incident. Just some spit on his face thanks to a bum who timed his spit-outta-the-window routine perfectly with the mad dash.

"Nothing a little spit and shine won't clean."

Giggling to himself, he walked off into the crowd.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. POOP: "Erm, why don't they build a foot-over bridge?"
Me:" "
......
.......
........
Me:"Er, they just haven't thought of it. That's why."

Also, coming up with a Name for a story[?] is the hardest part.
Winamp threwup "Getaway Car" by Audioslave and I lapped it up.

Commitment?

I haven't been busy.
I've been lazy.
I'll try my best to make one 'entertaining' post every two weeks.
Or atleast give my readers [guffawing everytime I say 'readers' gets old really fast] something interesting to read.
So I guess I'll be making a sort of 'online stuff I like' list.
Hurray for that.

Oh and Mr. POOP is, I'm sad to say, rusting away from an overdose of neglect.

-camera zooms in on Mr. POOP's sad weary face. Two tears roll down his once shiny metallic face, accelerating the rusting process a bit more-

Mr. POOP: "Whirr. Wheeze. Click."

Note: My definition of entertaining maybe differing from what the vast majority might consider entertaining.

Mr. POOP: "Ah. The old 'I'm unique and hence, interesting line of thought?' "
Me: "But Mr. POOP, your mouth is rusted shut..."
Mr. POOP:"I know. And this is getting boring. Boring-er. Than usual."

I am kul. lol

Hey, check it out, all you crazy fellas.




Good for a coupla lols.
lol lol.
there.

This is my blog in a nutshell. or well, in a wordle.
lol.
oops, lol, this was good enough for 2 lols only.


waitaminute... DAMNIT.

lollers.

Mr. POOP: ":|"

Happy Independence Day Part II

Yep, that was part one.
I thought of editing that previous post and appending this post to that one but then decided not to.
I made a decision and I'm going to stick to it. That's just the kind of person I am.....

Anyway.

So I left you guys (er, guy) at the point where a cute female had smiled at me. Too bad I told you how old she was. A better writer than me would have gone for the cliff-hanger. The mystery and suspense to keep you eagerly anticipating the return of the bloggist. Only to provide a tame ending to a rather promising preposition.

Er, Anyway.

If I had been a kid, I would have wanted to become an announcer guy at a huge fucking mall when I grew up. It was amazing, the atmosphere. The announcing. The music. I actually felt like dancing. Ok, no I didn't, but people did bump into me and made me shrug my shoulders as if in a dance move. Ok, so I did feel like breaking into a jig once.
I spent quite a large portion of me time, crafting a fictional career for myself as an announcer guy. I would start small, making announcements about stuff on sale. Soon, I would be making decisions on the sales to be put up, making big decisions. Then, I would become the manager of this branch of the chain. And finally, I would end up as owner of the brand. And all this would be just a chapter in my eventful and highly successful life. Oh and I would still do announcing and even get more offers to make announcements at a variety of different places. yay.

One of the easiest things a person could do there at that time was to get himself lost. And that I certainly did. A lot of times. The path of least resistance and whatnot.

During one of my 'Oops, I'm lost again' times, I came across a girl whose T-shirt informed me that she "has more new friend requests than" me. I said phooey and moved on, hoping to get reunited with my mother.
Another time while I was lost and looking for some familiar landmark, I suddenly realised that my trolley had turned rather lighter and noisier. In that extremely noisy place, a little more noise didn't bother me, and happy with the trade-off, I happily tugged along. To my chagrin, a woman came over soon after, handed my trolley to me and took away her pram, which I had just taken for a stroll along the furniture and home appliances section.
The 8th time I got lost, I got quite frustrated. I was looking around, trying to home in on someone, something, anything... and then I saw it. Cleavage. Mighty Cleavage. There it was, some rather good cleavage, standing behind and above some racks in line at the check out counter (ahahaha). She looked like a hot blonde at first glance. A second, more attentive glance confirmed the fact. A third, still more attentive glance brought forward further information that she was in fact an Indian hot blonde, who must have had black hair when she was born. Just then, she bent down, presumably to touch her toes and I forgot all about her origins. Or the fact that I was lost. Or the fact that someone was piling stuff from my trolley to his.

In fact, I don't remember much else about the trip, except that the bill was rather substantial and that we got some gift coupons. Which I have to go and redeem sometime in September. Hmm....



And I know that I this post could have shaped out a bit better, but well... I'm sleepy.
maybe later.

Happy Independence Day

This Independence day, I braved a multitude of bomb threats and ventured out. I even took my mom with me.
We paid a visit to the Big Bazaar in Gurgaon.
I drove. Oh yes I did. Drove around, that is.

No matter how much Gurgaon claims to be a city of the future or whatever, its road infrastructure is much worse than what I could come up with if I got 3 minutes, a malfunctioning drafter and lots of adulterated asphalt. 3 minutes, start to finish.
So the place does have some very 'lookable' buildings. But as soon as I chance d a glance at them, I missed one of the 3234324 crore potholes on the road. Missed looking at it, that is, not bouncing through it. That was probably the first time I was happy being not taller than I am, with the top of my head congratulating the rest of my body on its decision to not grow anymore. Vertically.
Anyway, after driving around for about 20 kms, looking for Ambiance mall, I finally managed to enter the entry gate.

Mr POOP: "Is this going to be a looong, bitchy post about something which no one else cares about?"
Me: "Mighty Gollops, Mr POOP! Why yes! it is!"

Lets skip the parking and find our hero(Me! Me!) in the mall, jumping on his toes, trying to locate someplace to release his great burden. Ah! a urinal! Ah! a urinal where everyone who dares can watch me pee. Ah! Ah! Ah!

Another fast forward through some shops and here it is... the objecte d' desiree (hey, atleast it looks like it could be a french phrase), Big Bazaar.
We start off slowly, picking up pace and more stuff as we watch other people rush past us with trolleys stuffed to the roof with things. I wonder where they stored all the goods before people came buy and picked it all up.
"Oh, look! Buy 2 get 1 free!"
"Free?!"
"YES! Free!!"
"But... err... do you want it?"
"Are you kidding?! Who wouldn't want a giant purple gorilla with ultra smooth skin. Smooooth."

Roughly 6 minutes later, I have a goods laden trolley to call my own. To hug and to hold. To push and to topple.
By now, even more people have decided to join in on the fun. In the 70s and the 80s, twins got lost at kumbh ka mela, now we have Big Bazaar on the day of an Independence day sale.

Hmm... I passed a girl tugging a cart fuller than mine. She looked at me and smiled. I managed to convert the look of surprise on my face into a passable smile. So what if she was only 8 or maybe 9 years old. We shared a look which said "hehe... I know this looks silly, and I'm supposed to hate shopping, but well... this is... not that hate-worthy."




Ok, I guess I'll complete this later.
Good Night.

Link!

http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=334

Hover over the comic to see the alt-text.
I stared at the screen for at least 5 minutes when I read that. Unblinkingly. Well, most of the time. 98% at least.

I'm going to change my fall-back plan. It's the only option I have.
They said "invariably". In+Variable+Y.

Everyone better take what they think they want to do the most and relegate it to the spot of the back-up plan. The world would be a much happier place. And chaotic.

Hey, who switched on the discovery channel?

>What do I want?
-I don't know.

>What do I want?
-um, I don't know.

>What do I want? What would make me happier? When I day dream, whats the foundation for my air-castles?
-er, clouds?
Ok, what I want is to be a freaking amazing person. A master of all trades. I want to be the best at everything I like. And yeah, there are quite a few things I like. I want a pretty active social life. I want to go to a great college. One that has lots of extra-curricular activities. [Nope, this one doesn't] I don't want to feel embarrassed or conscious about doing anything or taking part in any activity i WANT to take a part in. Yes, lots of friends. Who actually like me. heh.


Ladies and gentlemen, I have wasted pretty much all of my life so far.
The three years doing engineering could definitely have been a fuckload better. With a capital F, even. I still got one more to go. I want to become intensely interested in 'attaining knowledge', go to all the good technical fests and win stuff.
didn'tLooks like I'm all set to waste away another year. And then I'll take up any stupid job I get coz I work hard enough to get admission in a good college for higher studies.
I suck. And I'm going to suck even harder in the future.
I didn't smile even a little bit when I typed out that last line.
:|

It's my life and I'll live it the way I want to. But how?
How?

One title can't cover it all.

People go on [well, people I know] about how you need to have an 'aim', a 'mission' in life. A goal. A target. Have an... an objective. Something which you must attain.

Well, I don't have any goals set for me.
I just have this vague idea that I want to be happy. And healthy. Thats it.

I think that HAPPY is the most 'loaded' word in the language. The English language. Hey, what could cause this sudden onslaught of anger and... hunger.
Ahem.

Ok, if I could have one thing and just one thing, it would be happiness. But to have that one thing, the ever so elusive happiness, a huge variety of things have to fall into place. In fact, I believe that the only thing which makes a person what he/she is is 'The pursuit of happiness'. I really should see that movie. This should be my motto in life. "The pursuit of happiness".

I would have come up with this phrase even if I hadn't heard of this movie.
It kinda sucks how every thing I ever think or say or do has already been thought of, said, done and heck, even written about by someone before me. And the someone did a much better job than I can even think of doing.
I was born in the wrong age. Fuck, I could have invented the wheel. That would have been easy.
Caveman Me:"Hey, hows it rolling, fellas?"
"Wait a minute... did I just say rolling? Now, I'll be damned, but does that give me an idea!"

That would have made me famous. The most famous and influential person ever. And loved by chicks. Wild, cavewoman chicks.
But nope, I just had to be born in the 21st century.
And hey, guess what, people have thought of this too. Before me.

But I digress. So lets regress.
I want to be happy. But the question is, how does one become happy. And once happy, how do you stay in that state for the rest of your blissful life?
I'm sure the answer involves money. And 'true love'. And lots of loving, caring, attentive people around you. Who can actually figure out when you are trying to be funny and when you aren't. And an abundant source of funny and funny/slightly embarrassing stories and anecdotes.

Which makes me think. If we want to model a robot on a human being, we should program it so that it does whatever makes it 'happy'. Original thought? Heck no.
I feel like saying, "Curses! Foiled again!"
But then I'll get a lot of people saying, "Meh. Been there, done that."
To which I'll reply, "Yeah? Well, I couldn't have thought of the phrase on my own anyway."
Then everyone will look at me disgustedly and walk away. Leaving me alone. Lonely. Sad.

I would feel happy if I could write a totally original novel, or maybe direct a completely different movie. And it gets appreciated. A whole lot.
But to do that, I need to get a good job so that I have 'financial stability'. Plus, I don't want to let people down.
So, I have to get admitted to a great college for doing my masters. The best.
But do I want to do an M.Tech or an MBA?
Or an MBA after an M.Tech?

"Make a decision and stick to it."
Heh, not so easy when the decision defines what your life is going to be.

I forgot to give this a title but then saw my mistake and rectified it. huh huh rectified.

I think I'll treat POOP as a separate character.
Yes, he will become a much loved and adored personality among the regular viewers of the blog. [I already like him.] Plus, I can have conversations with him. No, this is NOT like having an imaginary friend.


POOP: I read that last post. It was horrible. You don't need to compensate for your lack of self esteem by acting like an arrogant, whimsical um, person who is opinionated about himself. Plus it was waay too long and windy. Also, it had no point whatsoever. The only thing which might redeem it is that it introduces a much loved and adored character to the public. Indeed. Bloke.

Me: Oh POOP, you incorrigible blighter, you.
-Offers POOP a playful punch on the cheek-

Hmm... POOP has a variety of personalities. In addition to a british accent. Back then, he was speaking in a robotic yet critical voice. With a british accent. Talented? Yes.

POOP: "I deserve more respect." -adjusts his monocle-

Me: "Ok, Mr. POOP."
Mr POOP: "Better."

I see Mr POOP as a giant, steely robot. Wearing a top hat, a monocle, a bushy moustache and a perplexed yet sour expression on his face. And one of his eyebrows is perpetually raised. I have this vague feeling that I'm being a "talentless hack" but I can't recall where I got my inspiration from. So I'm going to act like Mr POOP is a perfectly original and awe inspiring creation of my fertile mind.

For all I know, he might as well be. Um, a perfectly original and awe inspiring creation of my fertile mind.

Title

Hmm... Someone told me that a blog should cater to a particular audience. A good blog should be about 'something'. OK, so no one 'told' me anything. I vaguely remember reading something of that sort right after I made my first post. On the net. Yes.

Well, alrighty then, this blog is going to be about something, I thought. This blog is going to make a difference in people's lives, bring joy to their miserable and sad existences, is what I told myself. Hold on a minute, I replied, but you need to be an expert on something to blog about it. [Hee hee, I forgot to put a space between 'about' and 'it'. (C'mon,you guys, giggle!)] Then I looked the camera full in its lens with an expression of irony and intelligence on my face, [I can't help but have the expression of intelligence, you know] and slowly raised the right eyebrow just a tiny tantalising bit.
I reasoned that the thing I know best about is myself.
How convenient, I'll just blog about myself and whatever else I feel like blogging about.

So, this is my blog and what that means is that I get full creative freedom. I can be boring and just say that that's exactly the impression I wanted to create. That, that. That th-that.

Hurray, so we have a 'purpose' now. Maybe I'll think of a mission statement later. That'll attract all the well dressed entrepreneurs who eat in fancy restaurants and settle the bill with their flashy plati-titanium cards. [Snigger?]

Next on the agenda, I'm going to build up a small but faithful fan-following of sorts. To do that, I will go to random blogs, armed with compliments and a friendly demeanor, and woo everyone to my blog. But... won't they read this and...
Okay, talking to yourself is easy. But then transcribing it is kinda tough. [Specially if the person doing the talking to himself is smart and capable of making huge leaps of logic and likes making things confusing for others [even though there are no others]]For me. So what we get is a 'guy' called Point-er Out-er Of Problems. Or, in short, POOP.
ahem...
POOP: "Say, fellow, won't the people you invite here with your insincere compliments read all this and stomp off... without leaving any comments? And more importantly, without accepting your friendship?"

Hmm... well, thats a risk I'm willing to take. Because this is MY blog and I can do what I want. Also, POOP has a british accent. A funny british accent.

POOP: "OK, chappie, by the way, no one likes to read a long post unless it is funny, has some entertaining value or is informative."

Oh, OK.

Hello World

Hi.
I have a blog. And a keen sense of observation. Along with a stale sense of humour.

So, I've been thinking. And then I forget what I've been thinking about. Later on, I manage to convince myself (yes, my future self. What is this, an SF blog?) that whatever I've been thinking about was a highly original and creative thought-stream. Then, I despair at the great loss that the world has suffered. But the world, in general, doesn't seem to care. But I care. And this is the place where I'll note down my thoughts for Future Me's future reference. If I can manage to find a computer, switch it on and type it all out before I forget.
I'm writing this for my benefit but it would be really great in case someone else reads this and comments on what I've written. It could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Similar to how beautiful flowers blossom. Beautifully.
Yaknow, just saying.