My father just had a bypass surgery. This week was full of stress, appreciation, anxiousness and hurt, in different measures for different people at different times.
The incompetent trainee nurses poking him on the arm leaving bruises, the writing of wrong prescriptions with spelling mistakes, the rumbling air-conditioner and the fan that creaked all night long in a supposedly deluxe room, the callous security guards at the ICCU and the general apathy of the staff—Stress.
The brilliant doctors, the kind-faced physiotherapist, the anonymous friends and acquaintance who donated 10 bottles of blood voluntarily, the support of my aunts and uncles, my parent’s friends, the constant prayers, the genuine caring without pretence, my friends who called and cared and constantly showed support—Appreciation.
Spending four nights in the SICU waiting room, the single phone in the waiting room that would ring in the middle of the night with an emergency, the constant fear that it may be your father’s bed number that is called out, the wait outside the operation theatre wondering if everything is ok, knowing that your father’s heart is being operated on—Anxiousness.
Walking into the office and having your closest friends not bother to ask about your father because they are too wrapped up in their own lives—Hurt.
Monday, April 19, 2010
matters of the heart
We sat in the waiting room, anxious. We stood up when anyone left the operation theatre— a nurse, a ward boy.
Five grueling hours later a small bald man with smooth skin and a well-trimmed white beard walked down the stairs. ‘Doctor, is everything okay’, my mother gasped. Without smiling he said, ‘Okay’ and turned and walked down the stairs.
I sat, a jumble of relief and stress, a thousand questions in my head, I sat and watched the bald head of the doctor who had just held my father’s beating heart in his hands.
Five grueling hours later a small bald man with smooth skin and a well-trimmed white beard walked down the stairs. ‘Doctor, is everything okay’, my mother gasped. Without smiling he said, ‘Okay’ and turned and walked down the stairs.
I sat, a jumble of relief and stress, a thousand questions in my head, I sat and watched the bald head of the doctor who had just held my father’s beating heart in his hands.
Friday, March 12, 2010
:)
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 09, 2010
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?
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?
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
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 :)
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...
I think not...
Wednesday, November 04, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, October 23, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, September 25, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, September 14, 2009
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
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
Saturday, September 12, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, September 06, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 02, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, August 29, 2009
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’?
Is it just me, or should they rename the show—‘The Bold and the Perverted’?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
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.
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.
Saturday, August 22, 2009
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)
The Beach (movie)
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