the big move

Having lived my whole life in one city, in one country I must admit that leaving everything I have ever known behind and joining my husband across the world was, well, challenging. We were moving to a small industrial town of Duisburg in Germany. Looking at the place on google, it was the least fascinating of all the cities in Europe. I had no idea what I was in for, but I knew I that my ‘year in Europe’ sounded super cool, and nothing else, it would make for a great hashtag for social media.

My husband had one shipment from his company that allowed him to send everything he needed to this new unknown place. That was left up to me. I must admit I had a bit of a panic attack. Sending a life in a cardboard box seemed too daunting for me. I carefully chose toys, books, clothes and food that we may possibly need in this new unknown. Despite my midnight google-ing of this small town, I had no idea what it had to offer. Let me let you in on one of the most random panic questions that crossed my mind: “What if they don’t have Rice?”
Well, spoiler alert, they do.

The first week I was here I could only think of the things I left behind. Travelling with two suitcases packed to the brim with ‘stuff’.

I am no Marie Kondo, but I honestly don’t miss the cupboard bursting with clothes. I don’t miss the toys overflowing from boxes, although perhaps my 4-year old may disagree. I don’t miss the travelling to work, those grueling two hours in a traffic jam. I don’t miss the heat. I don’t miss the pollution.
I do miss some things though. I miss a friendly face in the office. I miss talking in a language that people understand. I miss not standing out like a sore ‘brown’ thumb. I miss my son having the time of his life with his friends, he’s not made any yet here and that is quite sad for a mom. I miss having adults to talk to during the day. As much as I enjoy my son, there’s a limit to the amount of 4-year-old conversations I can take. I miss not converting everything into rupees (yes, my middle-class self is still doing that, do not judge me) I miss, and this may seem strange, ambient noise. The first night I was here I swear I could hear my own stomach rumble (very disconcerting that). I miss my dad. I miss my pillows. I miss chaos.

Having been here over a month now, I realized why I had so much panic as I packed. Because deep down I knew that the things I would miss most of all… could never have been sent in a little cardboard box.

change

I wrote this for fun in 2009... I just looked at it again in 2012 and thought... wouldn't it be fun if I saw how much or how little has changed. Well, fun for me anyway...

1. I have an aversion to Math. Anything to do with numbers freaks me out a little.
(I still do... so this hasn't)

2. I want to live on my own but I’m afraid I’d be way too lonely. Same with travelling alone. (I've finally moved out, and I live alone and I am very very happy)

3. I despise people who promote their blog. It’s a PRIVATE forum… you want visitors write for a frikking paper! (hmmm... not so violently against this.. haha)

4. I love coffee. (stopped drinking coffee, unless absolutely necessary... like I need to stay awake for something important..)

5. Sleeping makes me very happy. (still does!)

6. I’m cynical to the point of self-loathing. (much less so, there's hope for me yet)

7. I’m easily bored and need to learn a new craft every month— currently on Quilling. (stopped learning crafts... but i have started to cook... and i love it!)

8. I’ve always wanted to be a lead in a band. Got offered once and didn’t take it up because I am chicken. (I am very proud to say that I am a lead in a 15-member band, singing all my favorite songs!)

9. I am chicken (still a little, i guess)

10. I cannot suck up to save my life. (this will never change!)

11. Every emotion I have shows on my face. Most of the time this is not good. (neither will this)

12. I like pink. (who can give up pink?)

13. I put nimboo in almost everything I eat. (love love nimboo)

14. I believe I should have been born in the 60’s (singing janis joplin at shows makes me feel like I am... so there)

15. I’m insecure. (no comment - working on this one, catch me 3 years from now...)

16. Relationships are all or nothing for me. There is no grey. (true true)

17. I cry at the drop of a hat. (working on this too... much less so than normal, I'm proud to say!)

18. I LOVE bags. (still do!)

19. Other things I love: Candles, jewellery and things that smell nice. (yea, but not sure why this made it to the top 25 things)

20. I’m a foodie and it shows on my ass :( (yea still a foodie, working on the ass :))

21. I got an 8 GB pen drive for Valentines Day and I loved it :) (I still use it)

22. I have a special ring tone for the people I love. (true still)

23. I was put up to this list thing by KI.. (this is a random truth)

24. I love lists so I’m not complaining at all. (Who doesn't love a good list... the very fact I am redoing it 3 years later proves that this point is true!)

25. I like Post-its (Sad to note that someone stole my box of post-its from my desk at the office. Not happy with post-it stealing at all..)

bucket list

Okay, so I’m not dying. But I am turning thirty in a couple of months and I am appalled that I have already reached my thirtieth year of life and I have hardly done anything worth writing about. Ergo, I have formed a mini bucket list of stuff to do before I turn thirty-five (I’ve taken the liberty of giving myself 5 years extra since I’m not likely to accomplish much in 2 months.)

I want to start by concentrating on writing my book. This has always been a vision I have had, and one of the big reasons I spent fifty grand on a laptop. Sadly, I have spent most of my time watching movies on the laptop, and hardly any writing. MS Word is the least opened software on my computer. This has also suddenly become a priority after I found out that my trainee has written a book, which is in the process of being published. (I could make excuses that I have worked for 7 years and have had no time to breath, while she is fresh out of summer vacations, but I’m not going to go there.)

I want to travel to an exotic country, with or without a companion. Maybe Greece. I’ve always wanted to go to Greece. My fear of travelling alone, dying in a gutter with no passport and identity and then being an unclaimed Jane Doe in some foreign land, should soon be overcome, because I am determined.

I want to work somewhere other than this city. I want to experience what an advertising agency is outside of this ass-licking place. It’s probably more ass-licking: different asses, same frenzied licking.

I want to learn how to perfect the art of everyday makeup. I don’t wear makeup and most days I look like a dead person. Pale lips, dark circles around my eyes and an overall pallid tone. I want to look stunning (like I did for an hour at a shoot when a makeup artist took pity on me and made me beautiful in his spare time)

I want to be proposed to. Okay, so this I cannot control or plan. But I’d really like to know that someone out there wants to spend his life with me. No one has ever popped the question. I may or may not say yes, but it’s the thought that counts, doesn’t it?

I want to have a 'go-to' group of friends. The people who are there when I am down, or have a crisis or anything else. I want to have a really good friend who is not high-maintainance and who wants to share/solve/cry about life's big issues.

I want to do up a house. Pick the curtains, shop for groceries; be worried about what to cook for dinner, stress about the prices of potatoes. This may sound strange, but I have never lived alone. And I don’t want to never ever live alone. I want to experience what that is like.

I think that’s enough for now. Don’t want to over do the list and be disappointed when I’m not done, sounds reasonable, right? It’s true, I’m older and wiser…

high potential...

it's normal

I woke up this morning feeling alright.

Then my aunt asked me what my ex ex boyfriends last name was, and I told her.
She showed me a picture of in the newspaper.
It was a marriage announcement.

I know everyone my age is getting married, so it’s not that I am shocked.

I’m just sad, even though it has been almost 8 years.

And it’s normal.
I'm sure it is...

plummet

I was talking with one of the guys in my office when a senior walked by. He continued to talk as she passed, but he kind of got lost and mumbled some rubbish. I snapped him out of it and said, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He looked at me and said, “Oh sorry, I was staring at her ass”

“You find her hot?” I said, mildly surprised. She is a rather attractive woman.
“Smokin’” was his eloquent reply.

He continued, “All the guys think so…and they think the same of (cannot-be-revealed name here) too!”

“What? Wow… Do they think I’m hot?” I asked coyly.

He hesitates, “Er… yea, of course you are.” Comes his fake but over enthusiastic reply. I stare at him, hoping to penetrate his brain with my Truth Eyes.

“You have a GREAT personality! And amazing eyes… and a sense of humour…”

Hmmm, he lost me at Great Personality.
I plummet into the depths of depression…

anti-body

For the first time in my life, or perhaps after the longest time, I am having a huge complex about my body.

I past a Mad Over Donut shop the other day, and I had a mini craving. I walked in and I looked at all the delicious chocolate filled donuts and I had a vision of myself as an obese woman stuffing my face with donuts. It was not pretty. And I walked out immediately.

I am beginning to despise my shape. And that’s not all, I have begun to obsess about other women’s bodies in comparison to my less-than-perfect one (and that’s a first)
Everyone around me seems to be whizzing past me to the ‘Slim Side’, leaving their chubby-ness behind. And the aforementioned chubby-ness is losing grip of them, slapping on to me and clinging desperately on for dear life. Okay, not literally, but I was having one of those Ally McBeal moments.

Speaking of chubby friends moving to the ‘Slim Side’: My cousin, who has always been a large girl has suddenly rapidly lost tons of weight. So much so she is being complimented all the time by people around us. When I asked her how she was doing it, she merely said she washes her clothes everyday and that’s how the weight is staying off. That’s bollocks. And I am jealous.

My colleague has lost an amazing amount of weight too. She is being complimented every single day too. She only eats sprouts though, or rather, that’s all I have seen her eat. I say you can’t live on sprouts for the rest of your life right? Right? But I am jealous.

Another friend is losing weight every minute, or so it seems. She is doing yoga and walking. So what is she doing that I am not? I walk too. And run sometimes. But she is looking so good and I am still a ball. Yup, jealous.

And then there are those friends who are just lucky and shaped wonderfully by default. My friend has a gorgeous body. Of course she is younger than me, and has age on her side (ahem, ahem) But, having said that, she’s one of those bodies who don’t seem to put on weight. Ever.

Jealous.

And then I think, “You’re a horrible person, she is your friend, I should be ashamed of myself”

It’s not like I am obsessed with being thin. Nor do I think I am extremely fat. I just do not like my shape the way I used to.

In fact, another friend, an older woman, (who I am also extremely jealous off, by the way) has three children and what I consider to be an amazing body. She is well-endowed on top and not so petite on her bottom, and man, she is hot. I wouldn’t mind having a body like that too.

I don’t want to be a size 0: I just want to have a shape I like for God’s sake.

am i?

I have this friend who I consider to be a very close friend. Or at least I did until something very bizarre happened.

I was invited to a party, I was one of the few non-family members that were invited. I thought I was being a good friend when I tried to help her serve the appetizers etc.

I was wrong.

The next day, when I called to tell her how fabulous everything was, the food, the drinks… the whole party, she said something very strange.
She said, I’m saying this because I love you, but I will never invite you to a party again. You annoyed me. You kept coming into my kitchen and you were always in my way. I hated it, and I couldn’t handle it at all.

I was so hurt. Then I became angry. Then just plain sad…

I haven’t called her. And neither has she called me…
I’m not sure who is wrong anymore.

It lead me to remember a quote…

“A question that sometimes drives me hazy: Am I or are the others crazy?”
~ Albert Einstien

Am I?

old joy

I taught an advertising class for a communication college a week ago, and I was faced with a bunch of 21 year-old wannabes.

I remembered how I used to sit in the back of my class, writing chits, making fun of my Anthropology professor, as she struggled to speak about some random tidbit of irrelevant information. And now, here I stand before a class of fifty students, all looking at me up and down, all wondering if I am good enough to even teach them.

But I tried to be cool. I tried to talk in a casual tone.

I remembered again how my communication class used to make fun of this fuddy-duddy advertising woman who would take our class. She had no real knowledge of the profession and her entire personality annoyed me. And then again, there I was whining on about the importance of knowing what you are selling to a bunch of blank-faced children.

I tried to make it as interesting as possible; I tried to sound less like a “teacher”.

I remembered how my frustrated Math professor would yell and scream for me to ‘get up and get out’ of his class, only because I was a backbencher who made a lot of people laugh. And then there I was, watching a young boy in a green scarf surf on his laptop, while all his friends giggled around him.

It took all I had to ignore him. But after about an twenty minutes of his nonsense I pointed at him and said, “You, guy in the green scarf, if you are not interested in this class, please leave because I am not interested in having you here either…”

And with that one sentence, everything I was trying not to be, I became. I became ‘Ma’am’. I became the woman they asked ‘can I go to toilet?’

I became a fuddy-duddy, advertising professional. I became old.

But for the first time, I was very, very okay with it.

poor poor you...

There is truly nothing more pathetic than a desperate creative person...
Truly nothing...

not so happy to me

I turned 29 about two months ago. One step closer to thirty and eight years farther away from my twenties. Days prior to the birthday, I prepped myself—I have always had a tremendous amount of fun on my birthday, and I have always been surrounded by close friends who love me and vice-versa, so why should I be irritable?

So I accepted the day. I woke up happy, I stayed happy, I was happy on the phone, happy in ‘Thank You’ texts to friends who wished me… and even apologised to those who tried to wish me at midnight, because I was fast asleep, like old people are at midnight.

The evening came, and I was still happy. I dressed and was up and ready to leave. I reached the club with two of my closest friends and I waited. And I waited some more. And then some more. Almost one and a half hour past and no one came.

Hurt, depressed and feeling extremely old, we left the club. Feeling like a piece of old poop, I snapped at one of the friends who was there. And she left too. So it was me and one other person who stuck around. And then I cried. And I cried some more.
Finally an hour later, a friend called and said he was waiting outside the club. Then I got another call and some more people said the same thing. So in about an hour I was back in the club pretending to smile and have fun all over again. Pretending that the last two hours did not happen.

About seven people showed up eventually. Not a bad turn out really, I guess I should not have expected all 20 that I invited.

So I vow that when I turn thirty there will be no big party. There will be no expectations. And there will only be a handful of friends who really matter to me around me. If they care enough, they will be there. And if they are not there, then when I turn 31, I will have an even smaller group.

And that’s the bottom line.

Theory: The older you get the smaller your circle of friends become

:)

I got this mail from a friend

I recommend one just enjoys and let ones self be free of any such thinking, just enjoy and fall in love, give-take whatever u feel like at least you can say I had a great time and some great moments with this person, let it happen.... it’s worth falling in love , getting loved, hurt, betrayed, or whatever at least we are lucky enough to go thru it, na?


Oh, and he is gay. It's amazing how we all go through the same damn things when it comes to love and relationships.

virtual slap in the face

Sometimes I hate what I do to myself. I hate that I put so much energy into relationships only for them to take a giant dump on my emotions. I hate that my happiness sometimes can depend on whether or not the current ‘he’ in my life is being nice to me and treating me well. I should be slapped for all the times I have preached to my friends about being your own woman, and for all the times I have told them that men don’t matter and men don’t make you happy. I have vowed to myself that I am not going to let any guy get me down, and here I go doing it again, thinking I can’t do better. Pause. This is me giving myself a virtual slap in the face. This is me sucking it up and trying very hard to feel better. I’m not going to get mad this time. This is me getting an instant new mantra. If it’s happy let it stay, if it’s crap, push it away.

stuff and nonsense

I have not had a lot to do this past weekend. And when I don’t have much to do, I start thinking. Now, mind you, this is never a good thing. But, and this is the proverbial silver lining, I do unearth some precious thoughts that ought to be archived.

Thought 1: If I wear a white, poofy dress, throw myself a huge party, invite all my family and friends, be the centre of attention and enjoy it, pose for pictures, get presents, dance the night away, vow to love myself through sickness and health and end it all with a nice long vacation...do I still need to have a man in a suit to be my groom?

Thought 2: This can hardly be attributed to me, because it came from the mouth of a very pregnant woman: It is a myth that you feel like a ‘woman’ when you are pregnant. In fact, you are manlier than ever before. First you have a beer belly at leaves you wondering if your feet have changed. At best, the most you want to do is sit in front of the television and vegetate. You crave junk food. You’re moody. You’re horny, but because of your giant-sized belly no one wants to sleep with you. You have neglected facial hair. And what’s worse, you have constant gas that seems to follow you around.

Thought 3: Recently, a friend and ex-colleague and I exchanged work. I needed a line and so did he, so we decided to do each other’s work with a fresh perspective. I know, it’s probably against all company policy, anyway, the line I did for him got approved in a flash. The line he did for me did not. Instead I had to write another line, which is not stuck in some advertising purgatory. This is an especially crap case of the grass being greener on the other side. (Okay, this is not a thought; it’s just an excuse to vent a little.)

Thought 4: Have you ever noticed how married people always tell you how awesome marriage is, and urge you to do it as soon as possible? It’s almost like a peer pressure to join the ‘cool’ crowd. This gave me a thought. What if marriage is a secret cult, which is only about stress and persecution? What if, every time a couple gets married, they have to take a vow to urge at least 3 other couples join this cult and then they get some bonus points or something...like a referral scheme?

Thought 5: I read this article about how women should not wait for their ‘Prince Charming’ because he doesn’t exist. Instead, settle for Mr Right Here and Now, who ticks most of the boxes you have in your head about what your perfect man should be. What happens if no man ever ticks the right boxes? What happens if you have 12 boxes and all the men you meet only tick an average of 5? Would that mean women around the world are so desperate not to wait anymore, they settle for 5/12?

I have to get back to work now. And besides, three days of idleness can only come up with so many pearls of wisdom, right?

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 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.

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.