tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33338073679403516252024-03-13T03:16:55.916-07:00Instinctive curiosity. Lazy musings. Anything.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-55880881061581939952015-06-15T07:16:00.001-07:002015-06-15T07:16:29.700-07:00Making Progress
I think the number one thing to do while you're kicking a habit, is to surround yourself with people you hate. All the love and trust and support is all good, but it's such a crutch. I really think there's something there. Unless it'll break you. Negativity, mistrust and doubt sometimes drives people mad. Not me. I grow vicious. I will go to any lengths to get away from it and prove Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-36868520707831400382014-12-02T13:34:00.000-08:002014-12-02T13:34:51.675-08:00A Fish Out Of Water
… is how it feels to be away from home. I once read somewhere that home is not a place, it’s a feeling. I guess, I now know what it feels. While I perpetually live the internet fed frenzy of the latest and the greatest from around the world, there are times I want to keep up with nothing. For really, I just want some neighborhood gossip. Or an update on what happened to that grey stray cat I sawAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-24228047419192736102014-08-04T01:38:00.000-07:002014-08-04T01:38:17.944-07:00I'm in Europe
Europe of clear twilight skies.
Everyday.
Europe of pretty trams humming along the city roads.
Europe of clean street food.
Europe of amazingly homogeneous groups of mixed race people from countries I had never heard of before.
Or could not spot on the map till yesterday.
Europe of Romanians.
Of Turks.
Of Polish, Greek, Ukrainians, Estonians and Albanians.
Europe of urban gardening.
Europe of Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-45643574471442510942014-06-24T05:55:00.000-07:002014-06-24T05:55:16.874-07:00Let me not write this.
Nowadays when I write something, I hate that the first thing that comes to my mind is - for whom? For who am I writing this? Maybe I can withhold this piece and submit it for work. Maybe I can make a twitter joke out of it. Maybe I'll store it away for that book I'm writing. Or was writing. I'm not entirely sure anymore. Or maybe I'll update my blog with it today. But write it for free? Who willAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-45813856104910806612014-01-20T08:21:00.000-08:002014-02-19T12:03:39.172-08:00A Blog Well Waited
Week 2 in Deutschland. Sitting in the international library and wildly ecstatic for overhearing English being spoken by two elderly British gentlemen discussing politics. English, ja, since most of the time my ears have been feasting on the mighty German.
Yes, I finally made the move. To Germany. Why? Because the opportunity came and it didn't sound half bad and frankly I've been in a Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-55250839536684594692013-06-25T05:48:00.000-07:002013-06-25T05:48:02.497-07:00The Cycle of Self-Doubt and Brutal Arrogance
Mostly its self-doubt. I just wrote arrogance cause I wanted to make myself feel better.
Also, I think, it'll make for an interesting character.
But no, coming back to my cycle of self-doubt and the second stage which is, somewhat confident, its pretty draining. Yes, it is. I feel like, the more TV I watch, the more books I read, the more people I meet, it just keeps pushing me lower and lowerAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-56142500978288959932013-06-24T02:19:00.000-07:002014-02-20T07:42:49.895-08:00There's power in being vulnerable? What?
Its one of those days today that I needed some saving. I felt so vulnerable. It feels like, everything has a profound effect on me. I'm an easy person to hurt. An easy person to be made to feel insecure. An easy person to humiliate. An easy (very easy) person to move. And I'm not fooling you with the scale of this.
Since an year or two, I've noticed that I get more and more vulnerable each day.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-40219270785285897162013-01-28T04:04:00.002-08:002013-01-28T04:04:33.998-08:00Living the (abnormal) Life
A wonderful thing happened today. I found a group of people I can finally feel, I belonged to. And almost simultaneously found out that they're a sort of phenomenon to be studied - in fact, also dubbed as ones with abnormal tendencies.
Do you know what is the Peter Pan Generation?- These are groups of adults who do not acknowledge responsibilities like marriage, children and career, Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-81785179336015520232012-08-27T22:13:00.000-07:002012-08-27T22:13:58.779-07:00Facade of Announcements
Sometimes I wonder, if people did all these great things and had no one to tell them about.. will it mean less to them? If you went to all the wonderful places in the world and had no pictures to show for it, will that be worth any less?
Why am I asking awkward questions? Well, here's what happened. I loved Twitter, and people on it and comments and all the wonderful wittiness that came along. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-55937452261131160182012-07-19T01:39:00.003-07:002012-07-19T01:41:45.830-07:00Re-reading, re-inventing, re-thought and relief.
The post before this. That made me smile so hard. This part:
I could be a hero now,
or I could lose it all again, at once. What do I do? Do I do what? I’ll see
what I do. I always end up doing something other than the plan anyway. Rights
are too romantic. I need some aggression, I yearn some power. Some original
game. Feel like the bad guy. Some flak. Or sympathy. Anything other than lucky
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-9536790452572120462012-07-18T05:23:00.001-07:002012-07-18T05:23:59.524-07:00The Boy Who Made Me Think Otherwise
I've only ever deleted a blog post once. I regret it. In fact, that should've been a cue. Re-posting.
Written and originally published: April 27, 2009
---------------------------------
My plan was right. Everything was all set. And it looked
perfect, ofcourse. It had to, it was afterall set to the minutest details by
the people who cared the most about it, my parents. There was a Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-49304097144752369052012-06-20T22:44:00.001-07:002012-06-20T22:44:49.995-07:00Being Insatiable
I'm frankly disgusted and appalled by my very mean and selfish spirit that just refuses to be satisfied. I have notions of change when I'm too busy and I cant sit still when I'm free. Its confusing to me and to everyone around me. I always seem to want more. More is actually a very significant word for me. I do get it a lot from people, I mean, in a way I guess... like - what more do you Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-3792370918983897762012-04-19T08:01:00.002-07:002012-04-19T09:46:17.294-07:00Yes, Magicbricks, I would of course tell you, why I want to unsubscribe.Dear Magic Bricks,
Thank you and very kind of you to suggest these lovely sales to me. But unfortunately I will not be able to afford this 3 BHK in Worli you just mailed me about. You see, I'm only 26 and neither my father, nor my mother are from Bombay. Which basically means I will need to live here and earn for 300 years to be able to afford a house I like. That seems like a bit of a tedious Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-52719072330014564022012-01-20T01:30:00.000-08:002012-01-20T01:30:06.770-08:00Of Twitter and Paper KingdomsMy profile on Twitter exists since January 2009, first few hundreds to be on Twitter in India. But I honestly cannot tell you, how many times, I have joined and rejoined twitter.
I have many problems with the channel and its ardent fans, but the biggest being, that it makes you feel, its more than what it is. It is, just a social networking site. No, do not take an offense, yet.
Twitter's Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-7380782846949041292011-11-21T11:13:00.000-08:002011-11-21T11:13:09.980-08:00You and II get scared to tell you that I love you so much. It scares me so much that the moment I say it out loud that I cant live without you, you will be taken away from me. Almost as if, so much love is bad for us. So much love is bad for anybody.
I feel like a broken piece of glass. Poetic, still, fragile but only a hurting little somebody, noone wants to touch.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-58878186431655154122011-09-20T06:15:00.000-07:002011-09-20T06:15:38.424-07:00A Journey that Changed LivesI had never stepped out of my house alone, and was raised in a constraining and non compromising big Indian family. I was 24 years old and devoid of any story I could call my own. I was tired of being sheltered. Of being told what to do, where to go, and especially so, where not to go. In India women don’t tread in their lives alone. They need to be taken care of and the time had come where my Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-73680173030628928752011-08-28T02:03:00.000-07:002011-08-28T02:03:36.916-07:00UnlearnWhen I was little, my mother once told me that crows grab your eye balls and eat, just to make me duck when near them and not go feeding them on our terrace. Till date, when I see a crow flying towards my direction (and by god bombay has its more than fair share of crows) I think its coming after my eyeballs. I dont think that's true anymore. And it irritates me that I believed it and was scared Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-32447459680011987052011-05-10T00:57:00.000-07:002011-05-10T00:57:55.107-07:00Life Befuddles MeYes, it does. And in ways that I seldom understand. The past two weeks have probably been the toughest since I moved to Bombay. For some reason I find it difficult to be honest today and yet, I'd like to talk it out. I feel depressed. My health is all over the place, my family is not at its best and well, I just don't feel at rest now. You know, its not the best time in the world when every day, Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-19210974938614617502011-04-06T22:20:00.000-07:002011-04-06T22:20:18.021-07:00Yes, Twitter and non-believer in the same sentence - sue me! And the ultimate reason for our ADD.What in the world is Twitter anyway? Every morning I come to work and as a reflex sign into my Gmail, work email, facebook and well, twitter. Once done with the rest, I stare at Twitter. and I dont know what the fuck to write. I mean seriously, what could be happening? At every moment?
I'm completely missing the point. The stuff people write on Twitter, is meant for who? Themselves? Followers? Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-78407260295303577562011-01-21T12:18:00.000-08:002011-01-21T12:18:56.328-08:00And to feel you're alive>Bombay my lover, my whoreI finally felt something today. As in, I feel love everyday and I feel pretty every other day, but something beyond just those scrawny everyday me and something originally and uniquely me. I couldn't stop smiling. And hear you me, it happened twice in this week. So amazing how it all just comes staring back at you one day, from nowhere.
It's all a big wad of mashed up paint inside my head stillAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-50639680123546492682010-12-09T11:55:00.000-08:002018-05-27T12:32:14.686-07:00Experiment 1: On Changing Your Story
This is not an experiment, well sorta. This is optimism put to test. This is every part of me swearing that I'll try and every part of me wishing it works.
Sometimes love rips you apart. Sometimes love is the only thing hurting. Sometimes you want love so bad, you scare away love. Sometimes love changes you. Sometimes love makes you want more. It makes you cruel. It makes you nauseatingly Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-16832361957114641262010-11-13T20:36:00.000-08:002010-11-13T21:08:42.324-08:00Re-examineI want to change things around. I feel stagnant. Not like I always feel nauseated when I am stagnant, just this is not the time to be stagnant. I feel like a bystander in my own life. Maybe I'm a bit of a control freak. Once again, maybe I watch too many movies. I feel like time is going by. I want to travel. I hate living like I'm supposed to be living. I hate conforming to so many rules, be Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-32873069158885849042010-10-07T02:03:00.000-07:002010-10-07T02:42:31.509-07:00Ferris Bueller's Day OffSometimes, I'm sick of myself. I have some limitations which end up clouding my strengths. My goal in life is just freedom. See, this is hard to express, but let me try. I don't like supervision. You can ask my mom, she'll swear by it. I also have a female-ego. Yeah, sue me. So, all in all, a man supervising me, ticks me off so bad, I develop tendencies which are life threatening, threatening hisAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-64602234992754874942010-09-07T03:43:00.000-07:002010-09-07T03:58:12.623-07:00The Ploy of the CubicleAnd what I discovered is, it's not even a damn cubicle. Cause if it was a cubicle it would have had atleast 3 walled sides, giving one some perception of privacy. These modern cubicles are a desk with people on etither side sitting in a one-hand-distance fashion. Its really something. It's my first in a cubicle and also my first time in an Ad agency. I reckon there will be many firsts here (mean Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3333807367940351625.post-71485783677983674202010-08-26T01:59:00.000-07:002010-08-27T00:38:18.964-07:00The lady is a trampShe gets too hungry, for dinner at eightShe loves the theater, but doesn't come lateShe'd never bother, with people she'd hateThat's why the lady is a trampDoesn't like crap games, with barons and earlsWon't go to Harlem, in ermine and pearlsWon't dish the dirt, with the rest of those girlsThat's why the lady is a trampShe loves the free, fresh wind in her hairLife without careShe's broke, but Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13104813330295437755noreply@blogger.com1