the dreaded question

It is the 29th of December and I have been asked the same question approximately 17,000 times: “So, what plans for New Year?”
It seems to me that having a cool plan on the last day of the year has become more of a competition that just a casual question:

A: “So, what plans for New Year…”

B: “Oh nothing, hanging out at a friend’s terrace, in a bungalow, located in a hill station…and you?”

A: “Me… nothing much… a cruise, and then a private firework show… and then a helicopter ride home…”

Not me. I have done the same thing on New Year’s eve for three years in a row. I have gone to my uncle’s house. Sat in a corner with a glass of strong ale. Waited for 12:00 to strike and then dance for approximately 10 minutes until it is time for us to sleep.

I’m not complaining. My family is the only group that hasn’t changed in the past three years. They don’t have a new boyfriend or a new wife. They aren’t having a baby. They haven’t moved cities. And they don’t have another set of friends they rather spend the night with.

Every year I try to make an alternate plan and sheepishly end up at my uncle’s house. Alone.

I know I seem incredibly lame to most people, heck, I think I am incredibly lame.

Thankfully, my family doesn’t think so.

Happy New Year 2010 :)

damn

Is there anything hotter than a nice buff man, with a nice footballer's butt and a witty sense of humour who likes love songs?

I think not...

the height of insensitivity

Sitting in a brainstorming session, she looks up at us and says, “What if we have this really old man, who is, like, dying of Cancer or some shit.”

We stare at her, I’m thinking of my mum who has just gone through several sessions of chemotherapy, and the other girl, whose dad died of cancer a year ago.

I’m not sure if she didn’t realise, or if she just doesn’t care.

I’m leaning towards the latter.

the scary alphabet

I’ve developed a theory. Again.

Most men, wait, let me rephrase that, most men I end up meeting, are afraid of every possible aspect of relationships. So afraid that they can’t even bear to hear the words referring to the aforementioned aspects.

The A-word:
This is the scary one. When a woman calls her boyfriend and squeals on the phone: “Do you know what day it is? It’s our annniiivvverrrsarryyy…”. You can be sure the guy has just pissed in his pants. One whole year with the same woman is just not normal for a nomad like him. Stupid nomad.

The B-word:
This is kind of funny. But if you ask a guy if he likes children or babies, he just assumed you want to have his babies. In a flash he has a vision of you, double, no, triple your size, carting some 4-5 screaming babies around yelling over the commotion—“But you said you LOVED children”.

The C-word:
This is the spookiest of them all. Commitment. Most men cannot see themselves in the same relationship for a really long time. I recently met a guy who said something like: “I don’t like to plan my days, things always come up, I can’t make a commitment to meet.” He couldn’t make a commitment. Mind you, I said ‘meet’ not ‘marry’.

The F-word:
Blame it on sci-fi movies. That’s the only possible theory to explain why men are so afraid of the future. Planning the future scares them so much it’s almost like you’re telling them to plan for their brain to be operated on by tiny little green men.

The G-word:
Well, to be honest I hate this word too: Girlfriend. I hate being introduced as someone’s girlfriend. So, it’s no surprise that the men who are afraid of the c-word are petrified of even thinking the g-word.

The L-word:
See that little spec in the horizon? That’s your man running for his life because you said it a little too soon into the relationship. When a man actually falls in love with you, he’ll say it all the time every day. But if he’s not, and you say it first, he’s envisioning the c-word, the b-word, the a-word and of course, the m-word.

The M-word:
All men believe that women are just dying to get married. It’s true that we size up most men and subconsciously place our name in front of their last name just to see if it has a nice ring to it. But we’re not that obsessed. But men think we are, so they make it clear how they are free birds who are not about to have the m-word or the c-word or the r-word pressure them.

The R-word:
For some random reason men are afraid of rings. Like buying a ring for a girl means that you HAVE to marry her. This is not true, unless it’s a diamond platinum ring. But if it’s a silver ring with dolphins on it, it doesn’t mean anything. Honest.

The U-word
There are four words that can get a man to cringe and run for cover: “Let’s talk about US”. For some reason, using the u-word too much, makes men think of the c-word and the m-word…this leads to paranoia about the a-word, the b-word, the f-word and the r-word.

I know there are some alphabets missing. I’m sure men are scared of a lot more.

I’m sure I’ll eventually figure out the whole alphabet.

Wait for it. It will be legendary.

shame on us

I have come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as ‘pure love’ between a man and a woman anymore. It doesn’t exist, especially if both the man and the woman have had previous, failed relationships. We tend to dwell so deeply in the mistakes we’ve made because we were naïve and in love. The bitterness leads to a simple case of ‘hurt me once shame on you, hurt me twice shame on me’.

When I was 18 I was dating a guy who was older. I met him at a wedding and we instantly hit it off. He called, asked me out and for a year, we were seeing each other. He used to hang out a lot with his friend, who was a girl. They studied together and I, at that time, thought nothing of it. Why should I have any reasons to doubt him? I realized much later, that for the year that he was dating me, he was also dating this study buddy. We had alternate days with this jerk. And mostly, she had the weekends.
Ten years later, at 28, I cannot help but get horrible thoughts in my head when I hear that the guy I am dating has a really close friend, who happens to be a girl, and that he wants to spend time with her too. I have been hurt and that scar will never fade.

Another guy I was dating used to lie about who he was talking to on the phone. I could hear a woman’s voice on the other end, but he would insist it was a guy later. He would get text messages that he would quickly delete so I wouldn’t see them. Now, if the guy I am dating happens to walk away when he gets a mysterious phone call, I cannot help but think that he is lying to me about 'something'.

The games that couples play with each other today are not fun and light-hearted anymore. They only serve to screw with your mind. Why should you allow yourself to be hurt over and over again, when it is so clearly avoidable, right? Absolutely. But sadly, in building the high walls of self defense, you tend to miss out on all the genuinely nice things that make it all worth while—making that pure, unadulterated love between a man and a woman cease to exist.

Really, shame on us.

remains of the day

Today I spent 45 agonizing minutes standing in a stalled train with sweaty women all around me. My ipod had died and I had no access to music or anything happy.
The morning wasn’t good.

I walked into the office sometime in the afternoon, hot and tired and one of the first things I see is the Shape Shifters butt crack. The first thought I had was, 'hmmm… looks better than her face..'. That's a new low, even for me.
The afternoon wasn’t good either.

All fingers crosses that the evening is better.

I love how optimistic I can be sometimes.

*sigh*

You know you've reached a new low when you put a reminder on your phone to 'Smile'.

he's just not that into you...

This is a mail dated 14th November 2006, written to a guy I had a huge crush on:

Hello You.

It's four thirty two in the morning and I have just finished the last
bit I had to do before the presentation this morning. Yes, I am still
in the office and soon will enter the sleepy room and make genuine use of it.

There is no greater pleasure than to see your hard work being printed
- no wait - scratch that, there is a greater pleasure and that is SLEEP. Which i intend to do in five minutes cause my eyes are already half closed.

I hate sleeping in the office. I am constantly worried about who enters - Is my ass looking too big? Is it sticking out in the air? Has my top ridden up? Am i drooling?! Is that the Hammerman? Can I take off my bra? Will people notice? Does that camera work? Is the security guy a psychopath? So I end up having this fitfull sleep that doesn't really mean much in the scheme of things.

My boss has a bottle of whiskey in his drawer which he consumed steadily since 8pm... he is now not only slurring, but with bloodshot eyes, yelling at his computer. I think it also may be the Acid I believe he has every morning. He just came up to me and told me he has a nose (which either means he just grew one or he's in the know, i can't be sure)

My other boss, the fat one, has gone home - at about 8pm claiming to have 'finished everything'. He's all about the work, but when someone mentions food, cake or calories, he is the first to get up from a "really important" meeting to stuff his face.

Don't ask me while I am maling you. Guess I haven't spoken to you in a while and feel the need to vent? Maybe it's cause no one talks (and by that I mean, let me talk) non-stop.

Remind me to tell you something very funny about ponies. Trust me its frikking funny. I think the one thing i know is funny. I mean, I know a good funny thing when I see it. Like for example - the Ghendu thing i messaged you yesterday. I was talking about my boss in my head and said he was a FAT ASSHOLIC .. errr..errr HIPPO -which means hes a GHENDU... Cause Ghenda is hippo and ... (it's one of those dot dot
jokes - like the cunning stunt one)

So I was thinking of a couple of more reasons we should get married. One was so we didn't have to miss each other.

Anyway, Before I turn into a slurring, bald, acid-consuming, computer-yelling, work-shirking GHENDU - I'm off to bed. Well maybe not. Maybe I will surf the net and learn something of Wiki.

Shucks. I took a while to write this. It's almost 5am.

Goodnight.

This is his reply, dated 16th November 2006 (two DAYS later)

Hey. Thanks for the mail, it's always nice hearing from you. You shouldn't work so hard, by the way.


Ugh. I've realised I haven't changed one bit. I will still be perfectly nice to every asshole that comes my way.
Damn it.

this made me fall of my chair

a post written by the brilliant agent green glass:

I’m going to hunt down the person who wrote the whisper line “have a happy period”. Then I’m going to take his/her spine and yank it off their back, vertebrae by vertebrae.

After which I will dance on the said person's head and tear out clumps of their hair with my bare hands.

Happy period my ass.

ahahaahahah
damn that's funny :D

son of a

I had a terrible day at work yesterday. It is amazing how many people have little knives in their hand waiting to stab you in the back. But I shall not dwell, because I have vowed not to let work get the better of me. As I now clearly see, I only write ads, I am not saving lives.

I decided to go and spend the evening with a friend and her dog. Unfortunately, this was the most boring evening I have ever had. All we talked about was the dogs’ poop, why he wouldn’t eat, why he wasn’t sleeping, how he scratched her, how he hasn’t taken a proper piss in a while. Something about ticks and how she spoke to him about barking too loudly.

The dog turned into a child. And my normally fun friend turned into this obsessive mother who just loses herself in her baby.

I was bored, tired and I wanted to vent. But every time I brought up my issues at work she’d start talking about the dog. Then I backed off a bit, maybe I was being too self obsessed. So I asked about the dog’s diet, is he not sleeping perhaps because he has worms?

And so it went on.

And on. And on.

When I started having people conversations, it deviated back to the dog.
Everything was related to the dog.

So I left and continued to have a crap day.

clarity

I’m watching a show on TV. About a bunch of doctors who are possibly having the worst bout of luck with their patients.

This is what they do though, this is their life: In one room, an intern holds gauze after gauze against a man’s bleeding artery until he dies, and she could do nothing to prevent it. In another room is a man who has been crushed under an ambulance, he’s watched his partner die and his heart is volatile. And in a third room a black doctor refuses to stop operating on a white supremacist even though it is compromising her marriage. Why? Because she took a vow as a doctor.

I am reminded that what they do, is so important to everyone around them.

The program breaks. And I see one teenage girl telling another teenage girl how they should wear a silly fake nose ring to their show. But the other girl can’t wear the silly fake nose ring, because she has oily skin. But luckily, her friend has a handy tube of face wash that washed the oil right off and lucky for her friend, she can now wear the silly fake nose ring to the show.

And suddenly, I am reminded of what I do.

the shape shifter

I’m really not into office cliques. But I do have a set of really nice friends in my workplace and I enjoy their company very much. However, in the last year or so, there has been a new addition to our little group— a loud, intrusive, overly in-your-face people-pleaser addition.

I know I sound like I complain a lot about a lot of people, but honestly I have tried my level best to like this person but I just cannot seem to do it no matter how hard I try. There is something about this person I just cannot seem to like.
The saddest part is, this person, whom I will now refer to as ‘X’, doesn’t seem to annoy the rest of the group, which is why X is always around—at every party, every outing, every lunch, every tea break and, in effect, every god damned waking moment of my life.

X has to be the center of attention. X has to be the one that laughs the loudest; the first to give a ‘high-five’, the first to feign concern if you’re having a hard time and the first to poke its nose into other peoples lives. X shows off their work— something that I never can do. X never says no. X has also complained to my friends about how it thinks I don’t like it much. The pity vote.

X is a shape-shifter. X changes its personality with different company. X mimics your thoughts and acts like you until you think, “Oh my God, we’re so similar, she should be my best friend…” X has done this with all of my friends leading them to believe X is one of them.

I am not afraid of admitting it, I do not like X one tiny bit. But my friend’s do, and I love my friends, after all they are my core group at this point in my life. I wouldn’t dream of making them pick one over the other because I don’t want to be that person. X annoys me so much sometimes, that my mood just gets ruined entirely. Unfortunately, this doesn’t work at all in my favour because X looks all jovial while I am portrayed to be the moody, easily-angered, uptight person—making X more fun to hang around with.

So I am living with it. And I am working on trying to like this person and not nurture thoughts of ripping X’s head out.

I know it’s my issue and I need to stop letting it affect me so much. I’m working on it. But until then, let this be my catharsis.

omg

I just watched Eric Forrester make out with a woman, who I concurred to be his step-daughter, who also happens to be thirty years his junior. He then proceeded to have a heart attack after a romp in the sack and now he is in a coma.

Is it just me, or should they rename the show—‘The Bold and the Perverted’?

The worst week of my life

I woke up at six in the morning today. I left my house at 7:45 to arrive at a meeting at 9:45am. I had to travel from New Bombay to Goregaon, across the city twice over and change three trains to get there. When I finally reached close to the place, I got lost and couldn’t find the office. I was on time, but lost.

Instead of helping me, picking up my calls or something, the servicing people in this ‘team’ ignored my calls and started the meeting without me. My so-called creative peer reached the meeting, switched of her cell phone and didn’t bother knowing where I was, or if I was lost. Two hours of travel to be treated like I don’t really matter at all. Is it wrong for me to be extremely pissed at this?

I left my favourite grey jacket in the office on Friday. I come in to work on Monday and realize it has been stolen. I sent a mail out to everyone in the office saying please, please give me my jacket back. But it hasn’t come back. I have lost it forever. And it’s depressing me.

I have potentially ruined an amazing friendship by telling the person how much I like them… no, not in a friendly slap-on-the-shoulder kinda like, but the hardcore kinda like. The like that is bordering on a serious crush. He, of course, said, in these exact words—“dude, no…I don’t think I will ever see you like that… ever, never”
Now, I don’t blame him at all. He has seen me snot up because of my ex boyfriend, and seen me hysterically jealous over some silly women on the internet. I mean, I wouldn’t date me either! And now, because of my own idiotic behavior, I can’t seem to talk to him right now. I am avoiding him like the plague. Which I honestly don’t want to, but whenever I see him, I hear a giant ‘No, no way, no, never’…and it hurts all over again.

And today I had a shit day. And I would have normally grumbled to him about it. But I can’t because I had to go and stuff my stupid foot into my stupid mouth.

I’m having the worst week of my life. And it’s Tuesday.

infatuation

"When you develop an infatuation for someone you always find a reason to believe that this is exactly the person for you. It doesn't need to be a good reason. Taking photographs of the night sky, for example. Now, in the long run, that's just the kind of dumb, irritating habit that would cause you to split up. But in the haze of infatuation, it's just what you've been searching for all these years."

The Beach (movie)

train travails

If you travel by a local train at peak hours, you should definitely have something like Green Day or Prodigy playing on your i-pod. It makes you feel like you’re in the middle of a concert mosh-pit and therefore makes it a lot less annoying to deal with.

In these paranoid swine-flu times, a subtle cough will be enough to make the annoying sweaty woman in the dentist mask leap away from you, giving you space to move and breath. Warning: Do not use this maneuver too freely; it may cause you to be thrown out if the train.

After getting into a train, some women make an exhaling sound that resembles a deflating tyre. *fussssssss*. Don’t be alarmed, you don’t need to look for their ‘stephenie’ or anything (they don’t have one, although their trunk could pack it in easily). They are actually exhaling with satisfaction at getting into a train, although it may also be because they are exhausted after climbing into the train.

When two women are fighting in a language you don’t understand, do not to imitate them by yelling gibberish, trying to mimic their high-pitched tone—they do not find this amusing in the least.

When in a local train, size is relative: A woman with an ass the size of China will manage to squeeze into a 1.5 inch space if given the freedom to do so. Don’t challenge her, she loves a challenge.

Do not look a woman carrying a baby in the eye. Do not make happy faces at the baby. If you do, the seat you have taken 15 minutes to get will be emotionally blackmailed from you.

Do not offer pregnant women seats in the train. They may not be pregnant after all— it’s called the protruding abdomen syndrome. What’s worse, they will take your seat anyway.

Do not be fooled into thinking that you will escape all of this, because women stop traveling after 10:00pm. This is an gross untruth.

the five stages of grief

For the last two weeks, I have been reduced to acting like ditzy sixteen-year old girl with a giant crush—giggles included. The object of all this affection is a delicious young trainee who has a body to die for. For the week that I spoke to him, I was convinced that he had a thing for me too, which made me pay more attention to my clothes, my hair and my general demeanour. He was my reason to go to work (besides work of course).

Sadly for me, I have only just found out that he has a giant crush on this really tall Amazon girl who has the personality of a gnat’s arse and the fashion sense of a 60-year old woman. She also walks like she has an invisible pair of wobbly stilettos on. When I heard, my first reaction was—No, this cannot be true. This is Denial.

Now, mind you, I’m not that upset that he didn’t pick me. Ok, I’ll admit I am a tad upset, but I am more perturbed by the lady-giraffe he chose over me. Not often does a gorgeous man walk into my office, and honestly, he would have at least 3-4 fairly hot ladies to pick from, and she would never qualify, not in the top 10 even. This is called Anger.

But he picked her.
He’s gone out with her, they talk on the phone they chat on Facebook and heaven only knows what else they’ve done outside of the office. I know all these tit-bits because of the multiple spies I have planted in every corner of the office—mostly because initially I wouldn’t take no for an answer. Bargaining?

I know all this is none of my business, but it physically hurts me to know that I have been outwitted by a dim-wit, that I have been sidelined by a floozy, that I have been disregarded for an Amazonian with zero charm. What’s worse is they are just such an odd looking couple to look at—He is 5ft nothing, it’s like a chiwawa dating a lion. The stage is called Depression

After being suitably outraged and comforted by my close friends who called her nasty names to appease me I have decided that he’s no catch either. He’s short, he’s not very smart (when I made a joke, he didn’t get it and I had to explain it slowly to him until he finally got it and gave me a half chuckle. Oh, and he called me a ‘mannequin’ because I am so ‘animated’. Duh!)

And at last comes the Acceptance.
I have accepted the fact that they are meant for each other. Why? Because basically, when they come together they have one brain between them. That’s a plus right?

live writer

I’ve just downloaded Windows Live writer.. and it’s frikking awesome… this is just a tester post, so don’t judge. I’m happy with technology. Woot woot.

revelations

Last Saturday I realised two very pertinent things:

Thing one: On Friday night I went out ‘partying’ with my friend who came down from Dubai. And since I had not gone out for the longest time, I decided to dress up like a girly-girl, high heels et al. My friend and I were accompanied by her brother and his super hot girlfriend who left us feeling frumpy even after half an hour of preening in front of the mirror.
About an hour into the night, my feet hurt and I wanted to get into my pyjamas and sleep, but I sucked it up and I kept at it.

Two hours into the night, we were surrounded by nubile young things wearing short shorts and tops that left little to the imagination. The music was fusion—of some electronic crap and some Bollywood crap. We needed a drink. At the bar, we were shocked to see that the menu said Rs.400 for a pint of beer. Understandably, we decided to leave.

But much to my chagrin, we did not go home. We moved to another bar, which had two sections— a Bollywood section and a Hip Hop section. We chose the latter and entered.

My feet were still killing me and I decided to take my shoes off and keep dancing. In doing so I also became some six inches shorter than the brothers girlfriend, who was still in her stilettos with no complains.
I didn’t feel bad though, looking around the small cramped dingy space, there was no one I even remotely wanted to impress. So off came the shoes, and out came the funky moves.

Then the club closed. But no, we didn’t go home. We went to one of his friend’s hotel room to chill and chat. Which we did for another four hours and finally reached her house (where I was spending the night) at 5:30am. It was only the next morning when I had my first revelation: I looked in the mirror and a racoon stared back at me. A racoon who was too old to party, and couldn’t feel her legs.

Thing Two: When I could feel my legs again, I picked up my stuff and trudged home. I had a shower and made myself presentable again. I had to attend a good friends wedding all the way in the other side of town. Heels on again (I really don’t learn) I made my way to the reception only to realised I did not know a single person there. I know I should have thought about this before, but I assumed that I would meet some mutual ex colleagues and therefore have some people to sit with. I was wrong.

I sat alone on a table for six. Groups at the other tables began to stare. Perhaps I looked like one of those creepy gate-crashers who like to attend weddings. An hour passed and people began to ask if they could borrow the six chairs for their ever-increasing posse.

I watched the couples first dance, I watched groups chatting, I ate alone and I occasionally got a friendly, sympathetic smile. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I made a lame excuse to the wedding couple and left.

In the cab home, I listened to sad songs and cried at my life. It was truly the worst night of my life because I have never ever felt so utterly alone.

This is when the second revelation happened: Even if your best friend in the whole world is getting married, never ever attend a wedding absolutely alone.

dear you

Dear H, I’m not sure why I liked you at all—we were so different. I guess it was because you were so quiet and unassuming, and the dimple didn’t hurt either. You were my first kiss, but not my first love. I should have known better at the time, instead of waiting for you to be the one to break up with me.

Dear L, I remember how much we laughed on the steps to my building. I remember all the crazy things you’d do and how much you made fun of my weirdness. I should have known better—you were a better friend than a boyfriend.

Dear B, I liked you a lot. Too much for my own good I think. And unfortunately, when I do that I stop seeing clearly. I wasted so many tears on you. And looking back now, I realise you are a self-centred, juvenile, nauseating piece of dog crap.
And I really, really, really should have known better.

Dear F, I have only good things to say about you. You truly were my first love. I would have, and still will do anything for you. Sometimes I wonder if we will ever get together again, and then I remember why we broke up in the first place.
I should know better.

Dear A, you were never really a ‘boyfriend’ but I thought I’d add you just to tell you how much I despise you. You have the personality of a slug and the only thing that is remotely attractive about you is your money…Unfortunately I am not materialistic. I did know better.

Dear T, you were everything I have ever wanted. When I looked at you I saw my future and I got lost in it, instead of seriously thinking about the present. It’s because of you that I know what true love feels like. I still miss you even though I wasn’t the one to let you go. It will take some time to forget that feeling I had when you were next to me. I thought it would last forever.

Next time I’ll know better.


Inspired by Alanis Morrisette ‘Unsent’ but not half as well written

(far from) happy ending

This weekend I watched three very different movies about how male protagonist fights for the woman he loves, eventually getting her and living happily ever after. And they all made me sick.

The guy who supposedly adored me for two whole years did not get the girl. He did not even begin to fight for her. He left me instead, hopefully watching these movies wondering why he did not fight in the same way for me. Making me assume that, perhaps, I just wasn’t worth the effort.

Going by the movies I saw— my break up should have hurt me so bad, that I somehow meet the man of my dreams on a bus or in a store (when I least expect it) and we go out and I realise that the break up was the best thing that happened to me, which is when my ex realises what he terrible mistake he has made. Or I make such a huge impression on this dreamy dude who falls completely in love with me and does everything he can to keep us from never leaving each others sight.

I know, I shouldn’t be using Hollywood as my relationship benchmark. I know that the script has to be happy to make a blockbuster—which makes me oftentimes wish I was living in a movie, instead of this crap, lonely reality that I exist in.

God damn it, I want my happy ending.

i'm just bored

Will someone please explain what all the fuss is about? Why is Frieda ‘Ugly’ Pinto getting so many eyeballs when she has nothing special about her? There are thousands of prettier and more attractive Indian women for the world to go ga-ga over— Laxmi Menon would be one on the very top of the list. It’s annoying that she is compared to the likes of Angelina Jolie! I mean seriously, what are these people thinking?

PEOPLE, SERIOUSLY, SHE IS UGLY.

And really, Dev Patel… you could do so much better.

Oh well, maybe she has a beautiful heart.

nadir

Main Entry: na•dir

Pronunciation: \ˈnā-ˌdir, ˈnā-dər\

Function: noun

Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French, from Arabic naḍhīr opposite. Date: 15th century

1 : the point of the celestial sphere that is directly opposite the zenith and vertically downward from the observer

2 : the lowest point



After two years of being in a happy and wonderful relationship, my world has crumbled down into a pile of nothingness. I feel miserable and sometimes short of breath. I have cried in trains, buses and cabs. Not to mention the office toilet.
I know. Everything is going to be ok. I’m better off this way. He totally isn’t worth this. It’s his loss. I’m a great person who will find someone super. Things happen for a reason.
I know it all.

Whatever. It still hurts like hell.

utopia

Once upon a time there were two things.

One was called Em and the other Reh.

Em and Reh were inseparable, so much so no one could see one thing without the other. They completed each other and even finished each others thoughts. They were the same, yet unknown to them, they were completely different.

Em and Reh lived in a big bubble they blew together when they first met. They thought nothing could go wrong and the world around them was sunny and bright.

Em was always satisfied with whatever it got and was happy in the bubble with Reh. But Reh on the other hand always wanted to grow more popular and have new things like Em.

The older they got the more their personalities differentiated. But because they didn’t want to hurt each other they didn’t say anything.

Em was so caught up in nurturing their Bubble Home, that it never once noticed that Reh was letting other things into her side of the bubble.

One day Em realised their bubble was getting a little too crowded. When asked about it, Reh said that she felt ignored by Em and needed some other company— Reh blamed Em for the crowd gathered in Bubble Home and their estranged relationship.

What hurt Em the most, was that Reh completed a lot of people— it finished everyone’s sentences too. In fact everything Em thought that was special about them— was actually becoming more and more common. Reh refused to believe it was doing anything wrong and because Em and Reh had been together for so long, Em began to justify a lot of what Reh did, even if it began to tear them apart.

Soon Reh was thriving on its own, having separated partially from the Bubble Home. Em struggled to be a part of this new world but really, it couldn’t bring itself to adjust to this new common space.

Reh, wanting the best of both worlds wanted Em to open her side of the Bubble Home to these new found things that Reh kept dragging in. But Em could not and began to build a wall between them. Over which she could hear the constant laughter and merry-making coming from Reh’s side.

Their relationship strained because of Em’s naiveté.
And Reh’s ambition to become bigger and more popular.

The Bubble Home doesn’t exist anymore. Both Em and Reh are living poles apart.

Both dreaming of the bubble that burst a long, long time ago.

Things I have learnt in 2008

I realised that most people take their health for granted, and when you least suspect it something completely unexpected will happen to make you take it seriously.

I discovered that some people are better friends when they don’t work with you. Because when they do you automatically become competition.

I have realised that competition is healthy when there are no feelings or friendship involved.

I’ve realised that family that moves abroad feels the need to justify their decision as best they possibly can, and all one can do is understand that it is nothing personal.

I learned that no matter how much you work for a company, no matter how many accolades you get— if you don’t suck ass… you don’t get ahead.

I have realised that no matter how hard I try, I can never, ever be a suck ass.

I have realised that I work better with a female boss.

I have decided that deep inside me is a loner waiting to burst out… and if I get over my craving for ‘people’ and ‘friends’ I will be positively happy.

I have realised that I need to learn how to pick the right friends.

I believe that having ‘friends’ is not over-rated.

(I realise I am being contradictory.)

I have discovered the meaning of feeling absolutely alone even when you are surrounded by people.

I have resolved to shut negativity out, in whatever form or shape it comes.

I realise that you need a circle of friends outside of work. I also realise I don’t have that.

I realised that I no one in my family has a ‘best friend’.

I have decided that those indeed are over-rated.

I realise I haven’t learned much at all. And I really should stop wasting time making lists like this.