Remember this?
Looks like my head is still muddled about most of the things listed in that post. But, there are many changes coming out of this one concrete decision.
I have taken the plunge. I am finally making the move to a position in Internal Communications. I am an 'excited electron' about this move but also scared shit-less at whether I am actually going to be good at it. My time at the agency last year was a hurricane of disastrously tight deadlines, clients yelling their head off, the boss lady yelling her head off and then the creative guys thinking, I am just not good enough to keep all the balls in the air (Wink!Wink! at Hetch). This new role is going to be a mini-hurricane of all the fun stuff I mentioned above but I still can't wait to get my feet wet in it.
I am looking forward to the writing, though. It is less pressured because it business writing. I am good at that. Copywriting or creative writing, not so sure. I guess I did choose the safer option. I still have my blog for my creative (or destructive) brain-puke so I don't mind restricting myself to business writing at work.
Plus, the job involves dealing and interacting with many leaders across the global office. That should be fun too. I like people, and all kinds of em'. I get to sit on the 'executive' floor of the office complex, so this is a great networking opportunity. I get to cover events around the different service lines in the office so I am not chained to my desk all day long.
And I can read, read and read during work. Whether its blogs, online magazines, the newspaper, comics or novels... I am actually working on professional development and building my writing skills, vocabulary and creativity. All pre-requisites for the job so no one can call it leisure activity during work hours.
The salary is static, but hey I ain't feeding a family of four so I can make do with what I have. The boss does warn me about the lack of recognition or awards, but I guess I can deal with that as long as I am excelling on my own standards for myself.
The boss lady has a tattoo. Isn't that awesome? Cos I can get a couple and not be judged or get into trouble for it. And now the best thing about this move is, NO MORE MS EXCEL, No more rows and columns of useless data-entry...... I am free from the 'Copy Paste' and the 'Alt Tab' syndrome. Yaaay!!
Jun 30, 2008
Jun 24, 2008
Post-Secret
Inspired by PostSecret.blogspot.com, I will be putting myself out there too. Out with some humiliating, embarrassing, not-so-proud of, dirty secrets of my own, in the hope that it will allow me to explore my hidden side and embrace my untold truths and live and love on as a free mind and soul. And this, not anonymously.
Readers, only if you have your non-judgemental glasses and open-mind hats on, will you be allowed to go beyond this point. A point of no return, if you do decide to judge and alter current impressions about me. A point of change in our relationship, if you decide to embrace my untold truths and let me unravel in front of you.
1. I love Bollywood songs. LOVE. I switch on MTV (Non-Stop Hits) or Channel V(Zabardast Hits) as soon as I wake up. I enjoy hip-hop, house, trance, electronica and rock sometimes, but LOVE bollywood music and telugu too, on occasion.
2. I dance around the house in my purple nightie, with 'haldi' on my pimples and protein cream on my thinning hair.
3. I have already kissed two younger men and I am only 23. Am I a cradle snatcher?
4. I remember, laughing at the concept of arranged marriage for years together and still do openly rip it to pieces within conversations with friends. But as Hetch pointed out, and that moment I vehemently denied it, I am secretly hoping that I can find the 'perfect' guy for me through this traditional system of finding mates. I am tired of playing this love game, sick of heart breaks and wish that love would just fall into my lap this time, without effort or complication.
5. I blame myself for my failed relationships. I wish I had done things differently. I wish I had not hurt my Exs, even if it was inadvertent and unintentional.
6. I love eating Cerelac. I could eat it all day long. I need to grow up.
7. I generally appear confident about my curvaceous figure, my curly hair and my dusky complexion but I secretly wonder how life would have been different if was skinny, fair and had long, straight hair.
8. I love licking my plate after I am done eating Maggi Noodles or 'Rasam' and rice.
9. I wish I had let loose in Canada, travelled more and made more friends, rather than concentrate on studying and working on my career through the four years that I was there.
10. I secretly freak out that I chose the wrong career. I fantasize about an alternate career and lifestyle as a singer, dancer ,an actor, a social worker, a poet or even a copywriter. Yes, Alok and Hetch can please go ahead and feel privileged to be what I could never be.
11. I bite my tongue every time I am rude or sarcastic with mom but I can't help but get irritated with her, even though I love her immensely.
12. I wish I could be unselfish and help my Dad with his business. I know how happy it would make him and how unhappy it would make me and that keeps me on the fence. Isn't there a middle-ground?
13. I wish I could commit to the nice guys that love me and adore me. The guys I actually want can never do me justice, but I still want them. My head needs fixing.
14. I wish I had childhood friends like everyone else.
15. I can never remember directions, even to places I go to everyday. Is something medically wrong with me? I wish I could get a navigating system installed in my head.
16. I am known to be a person of fleeting interest. I am shit-scared that I will never be able to settle down with one person because he might not be able to entertain and engage me every day for the rest of my life. How will I get married? And stay married?
Note: No one is allowed to question me on the truths mentioned above. This is more for me than you. So shut up, absorb and embrace.
Readers, only if you have your non-judgemental glasses and open-mind hats on, will you be allowed to go beyond this point. A point of no return, if you do decide to judge and alter current impressions about me. A point of change in our relationship, if you decide to embrace my untold truths and let me unravel in front of you.
1. I love Bollywood songs. LOVE. I switch on MTV (Non-Stop Hits) or Channel V(Zabardast Hits) as soon as I wake up. I enjoy hip-hop, house, trance, electronica and rock sometimes, but LOVE bollywood music and telugu too, on occasion.
2. I dance around the house in my purple nightie, with 'haldi' on my pimples and protein cream on my thinning hair.
3. I have already kissed two younger men and I am only 23. Am I a cradle snatcher?
4. I remember, laughing at the concept of arranged marriage for years together and still do openly rip it to pieces within conversations with friends. But as Hetch pointed out, and that moment I vehemently denied it, I am secretly hoping that I can find the 'perfect' guy for me through this traditional system of finding mates. I am tired of playing this love game, sick of heart breaks and wish that love would just fall into my lap this time, without effort or complication.
5. I blame myself for my failed relationships. I wish I had done things differently. I wish I had not hurt my Exs, even if it was inadvertent and unintentional.
6. I love eating Cerelac. I could eat it all day long. I need to grow up.
7. I generally appear confident about my curvaceous figure, my curly hair and my dusky complexion but I secretly wonder how life would have been different if was skinny, fair and had long, straight hair.
8. I love licking my plate after I am done eating Maggi Noodles or 'Rasam' and rice.
9. I wish I had let loose in Canada, travelled more and made more friends, rather than concentrate on studying and working on my career through the four years that I was there.
10. I secretly freak out that I chose the wrong career. I fantasize about an alternate career and lifestyle as a singer, dancer ,an actor, a social worker, a poet or even a copywriter. Yes, Alok and Hetch can please go ahead and feel privileged to be what I could never be.
11. I bite my tongue every time I am rude or sarcastic with mom but I can't help but get irritated with her, even though I love her immensely.
12. I wish I could be unselfish and help my Dad with his business. I know how happy it would make him and how unhappy it would make me and that keeps me on the fence. Isn't there a middle-ground?
13. I wish I could commit to the nice guys that love me and adore me. The guys I actually want can never do me justice, but I still want them. My head needs fixing.
14. I wish I had childhood friends like everyone else.
15. I can never remember directions, even to places I go to everyday. Is something medically wrong with me? I wish I could get a navigating system installed in my head.
16. I am known to be a person of fleeting interest. I am shit-scared that I will never be able to settle down with one person because he might not be able to entertain and engage me every day for the rest of my life. How will I get married? And stay married?
Note: No one is allowed to question me on the truths mentioned above. This is more for me than you. So shut up, absorb and embrace.
Jun 20, 2008
What's in a name?
Ask these people below. Enjoy!
Abe Ozo
Barbaby Wild
Igor Beaver
Constance Paine
Celia Fate
Izzy Foreel
Bob Loblaw
Harris Thinninout
Al Kida
Ayma Dommy
Charity Case
Drew A. Blanc
Harly Workin
Howie Blewitt
Constance Noring
Hank E. Pankie
Ida Hoe
Izzy Cumming
Dan Druff
Constance Wearing
Al beback
Barry D'Alive
Al cahall
Carrie Oakie
Mary Juana
Ralph Upchuck
Sy Philus
Watson Yurface
Rhoda Dick
Uben Hadd
Willie Dewer
P. Brain
Sophie Lizcock
Louise Lips
Thur Sheblows
Wilma Dickfit
Mick Stup
Phil Rupp
Dee Gullize Pot
Lou Sass
M T Bowels
P. Eve Doff
Max E. Padd
Pat Butt
Ray Pist
Stacy Rhect
Tim Buck II
Tess Tickles
Sandy Shore
Vye Brator
Willie B. Long
Rob Banks
Ray Beeze
R. Sole
Shlomo Sectshual
Source: golth.com
Note: Hetch stole my title for this post. Or maybe, great minds think alike.
Abe Ozo
Barbaby Wild
Igor Beaver
Constance Paine
Celia Fate
Izzy Foreel
Bob Loblaw
Harris Thinninout
Al Kida
Ayma Dommy
Charity Case
Drew A. Blanc
Harly Workin
Howie Blewitt
Constance Noring
Hank E. Pankie
Ida Hoe
Izzy Cumming
Dan Druff
Constance Wearing
Al beback
Barry D'Alive
Al cahall
Carrie Oakie
Mary Juana
Ralph Upchuck
Sy Philus
Watson Yurface
Rhoda Dick
Uben Hadd
Willie Dewer
P. Brain
Sophie Lizcock
Louise Lips
Thur Sheblows
Wilma Dickfit
Mick Stup
Phil Rupp
Dee Gullize Pot
Lou Sass
M T Bowels
P. Eve Doff
Max E. Padd
Pat Butt
Ray Pist
Stacy Rhect
Tim Buck II
Tess Tickles
Sandy Shore
Vye Brator
Willie B. Long
Rob Banks
Ray Beeze
R. Sole
Shlomo Sectshual
Source: golth.com
Note: Hetch stole my title for this post. Or maybe, great minds think alike.
the smoke stayed, the burn stayed. But, she was gone.
They enter the smoky club after a long day at work, looking forward to some good music and alcohol. R looks like he has been run over by a truck and S sure could use a little make up and some mousse for her hair.
S: Wow, this club is rockin’ tonight. I am kinda thirsty, can you get some beer for us?
R: Sure. Looks like the bar counter is crowded. I will be back.
Fifteen minutes later, a hassled yet triumphant R returns with two cans of Fosters. He opens one can for himself and starts to raise the can to his thirsty lips when S, after looking at her freshly manicured nails, turns to R and stops him just before his first sip.
S: Can you open my can please. I don’t want my nails to break.
R looks at her, keeps his can on the large speaker beside him and pops open her can and hands it over. He turns around and picks up his beer.
R: Cheers!!
But S has already gulped down two large sips of that cold, refreshing beer. She looks unapologetic, and yet mouths a quick sorry to R before turning around to give a series of celebrity, page-3 kisses to bunch of her guy friends. She introduces R to “her boys” as she calls them.
R: Hi M, Hi R, Hi U, Hi…..uhh what’s your name, sorry?
S: Oh don’t worry, I will tell you the name later.
She walks off with her beer. R stands in a corner watching S go over to the DJ booth and give the DJ and his friends a hug. She starts to get a lil’ jiggy with one of them too and R wonders why she called him her date for the evening when they were driving over to the club.
All poor R can do was to sip on that beer. And so he does, at an accelerated pace. He finishes his beer in a couple of minutes. The crowd is thumping and swaying to the loud hip-hop music, but he can only see her. Her voluptuous body gyrating to the island beats like no one could believe. The men around her are eyeing her like a pack of hungry dogs would do a piece of meat. R wants to walk over there and yank her back to safety. He wants her next to him. But he doesn't.
After what seemed like an eternity, she walks back to where R was.
S: You aren't you having fun. What’s your problem?
He wants to yell, “Well, you are supposed to be my date and I hate hip-hop music and I don’t know anyone here and you keep walking away from me. “ R stays quiet and shrugs his shoulders instead.She shrugs back her shoulders and starts to chat with some girl.
R: Can I have a sip of your beer?
S: No.
R is stunned. Did she just say "no"?
R: But I want a sip.
S: Then go get yourself another beer. I don’t want to give up the last two sips of mine because that would make me want another beer and I cannot afford another beer. It is 400 calories. How can you be so insensitive and not care about what’s important to me?
R: Oh. I’m sorry. I think I will get myself one.
R returns after another twenty minutes of bring jostled, groped and pushed around by drunks at the bar. S has finished that beer and is grinding this random guy to the ground. R is really getting upset now, but she suddenly walks over to him as soon as she sees him return. R is surprised. Maybe there is hope. She smiles at him, hugs him and starts to dance with him. R is panicking on the inside but still on the outside. He can’t dance for nuts. She is really turning him on now. He just wants to pull her hair back and kiss her. Right there, right then. He couldn’t. So he turns his face away and starts to message this friend to take his mind of the sexual tension brewing in his pants.
S: I cannot believe you are messaging some damn person while I am dancing with you. What the hell is wrong with you? Really!!
R is dumbstruck. It was amazing how loud and clear her voice was in all that din. She snatches his beer and takes two large gulps while she looks over into his phone to see who he was messaging.
S: N? Who is this? Do I know her? Is she hotter than me?
R starts to sweat. This was all going wrong. Why was she angry with him. And why was she drinking his beer. He had wanted to be the one to say “no” this time.
R(stuttering): She is just a friend.
S: Whatever, there are ten other guys here that would love to dance with me and pay attention to me when I am with them. You have yourself a good night then.
She pulls out a cigarette and touches the back pockets of her tight jeans looking for a lighter. R lights her smoke for her. He then holds her hand to keep her walking away.
S: Whatever man. I gotta go.
She blows the cigarette smoke in R’s face. And she is gone. The smoke stayed, the burn stayed. But she, the fire that had brightened his whole existence, was gone.
S: Wow, this club is rockin’ tonight. I am kinda thirsty, can you get some beer for us?
R: Sure. Looks like the bar counter is crowded. I will be back.
Fifteen minutes later, a hassled yet triumphant R returns with two cans of Fosters. He opens one can for himself and starts to raise the can to his thirsty lips when S, after looking at her freshly manicured nails, turns to R and stops him just before his first sip.
S: Can you open my can please. I don’t want my nails to break.
R looks at her, keeps his can on the large speaker beside him and pops open her can and hands it over. He turns around and picks up his beer.
R: Cheers!!
But S has already gulped down two large sips of that cold, refreshing beer. She looks unapologetic, and yet mouths a quick sorry to R before turning around to give a series of celebrity, page-3 kisses to bunch of her guy friends. She introduces R to “her boys” as she calls them.
R: Hi M, Hi R, Hi U, Hi…..uhh what’s your name, sorry?
S: Oh don’t worry, I will tell you the name later.
She walks off with her beer. R stands in a corner watching S go over to the DJ booth and give the DJ and his friends a hug. She starts to get a lil’ jiggy with one of them too and R wonders why she called him her date for the evening when they were driving over to the club.
All poor R can do was to sip on that beer. And so he does, at an accelerated pace. He finishes his beer in a couple of minutes. The crowd is thumping and swaying to the loud hip-hop music, but he can only see her. Her voluptuous body gyrating to the island beats like no one could believe. The men around her are eyeing her like a pack of hungry dogs would do a piece of meat. R wants to walk over there and yank her back to safety. He wants her next to him. But he doesn't.
After what seemed like an eternity, she walks back to where R was.
S: You aren't you having fun. What’s your problem?
He wants to yell, “Well, you are supposed to be my date and I hate hip-hop music and I don’t know anyone here and you keep walking away from me. “ R stays quiet and shrugs his shoulders instead.She shrugs back her shoulders and starts to chat with some girl.
R: Can I have a sip of your beer?
S: No.
R is stunned. Did she just say "no"?
R: But I want a sip.
S: Then go get yourself another beer. I don’t want to give up the last two sips of mine because that would make me want another beer and I cannot afford another beer. It is 400 calories. How can you be so insensitive and not care about what’s important to me?
R: Oh. I’m sorry. I think I will get myself one.
R returns after another twenty minutes of bring jostled, groped and pushed around by drunks at the bar. S has finished that beer and is grinding this random guy to the ground. R is really getting upset now, but she suddenly walks over to him as soon as she sees him return. R is surprised. Maybe there is hope. She smiles at him, hugs him and starts to dance with him. R is panicking on the inside but still on the outside. He can’t dance for nuts. She is really turning him on now. He just wants to pull her hair back and kiss her. Right there, right then. He couldn’t. So he turns his face away and starts to message this friend to take his mind of the sexual tension brewing in his pants.
S: I cannot believe you are messaging some damn person while I am dancing with you. What the hell is wrong with you? Really!!
R is dumbstruck. It was amazing how loud and clear her voice was in all that din. She snatches his beer and takes two large gulps while she looks over into his phone to see who he was messaging.
S: N? Who is this? Do I know her? Is she hotter than me?
R starts to sweat. This was all going wrong. Why was she angry with him. And why was she drinking his beer. He had wanted to be the one to say “no” this time.
R(stuttering): She is just a friend.
S: Whatever, there are ten other guys here that would love to dance with me and pay attention to me when I am with them. You have yourself a good night then.
She pulls out a cigarette and touches the back pockets of her tight jeans looking for a lighter. R lights her smoke for her. He then holds her hand to keep her walking away.
S: Whatever man. I gotta go.
She blows the cigarette smoke in R’s face. And she is gone. The smoke stayed, the burn stayed. But she, the fire that had brightened his whole existence, was gone.
Jun 19, 2008
the mystery of why men are never depressed... solved.
Men Are Just Happier People-- What do you expect from such simple creatures? Your last name stays put. The garage is all yours. Wedding plans take care of themselves. Chocolate is just another snack. You can be President. You can never be pregnant. You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park. You can wear NO shirt to a water park.
Car mechanics tell you the truth... The world is your urinal. You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky. You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.
Same work, more pay. Wrinkles add character. Wedding dress $5000. Tux rental-$100. People never stare at your chest when you're talking to them. The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected. New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet. One mood all the time.
Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat. You know stuff about tanks. A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase. You can open all your own jars. You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness. If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend. Your underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack. Three pairs of shoes are more than enough. You almost never have strap problems in public. You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes. Everything on your face stays its original color. The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades. You only have to shave your face and neck. You can play with toys all your life. Your belly usually hides your big hips. One wallet and one pair of shoes -- one color for all seasons.
You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look. You can "do" your nails with a pocket knife. You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache. You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 in 25 minutes. No wonder men are happier.
This is a forward sent by a man-friend of mine and I chuckled at the immense amount of truth in it. Thought I'd share.
But hey, my dear man-friend, weren't you recently depressed about you losing your hair and being short and being a bad dancer, which in turn could lead to you being a single, old, bald geezer? I guess it was just a "mood-swing" and temporary :P
Note: These are his words after reading this post - "Yup, that mood-swing was the woman in me that decided to come out."
Car mechanics tell you the truth... The world is your urinal. You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky. You don't have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.
Same work, more pay. Wrinkles add character. Wedding dress $5000. Tux rental-$100. People never stare at your chest when you're talking to them. The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected. New shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet. One mood all the time.
Phone conversations are over in 30 seconds flat. You know stuff about tanks. A five-day vacation requires only one suitcase. You can open all your own jars. You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness. If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend. Your underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack. Three pairs of shoes are more than enough. You almost never have strap problems in public. You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes. Everything on your face stays its original color. The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe decades. You only have to shave your face and neck. You can play with toys all your life. Your belly usually hides your big hips. One wallet and one pair of shoes -- one color for all seasons.
You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look. You can "do" your nails with a pocket knife. You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache. You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 in 25 minutes. No wonder men are happier.
This is a forward sent by a man-friend of mine and I chuckled at the immense amount of truth in it. Thought I'd share.
But hey, my dear man-friend, weren't you recently depressed about you losing your hair and being short and being a bad dancer, which in turn could lead to you being a single, old, bald geezer? I guess it was just a "mood-swing" and temporary :P
Note: These are his words after reading this post - "Yup, that mood-swing was the woman in me that decided to come out."
Jun 16, 2008
a sole for every soul? Sold !!
There are times when I randomly come across something during my routine work day that touches me and makes me take a step back and think. I came across TOMS Shoes and it left me deeply surprised. Deeply moved. Deeply amazed at the way someone gives back to the needy and justifies their place on this earth. Deeply guilty at insignificance of my own existence.
TOMS Shoes is derived from 'Shoes for Tommorrow' that came into inception when Blake Mycoskie had an epiphany on a trip to Argentina after competing the famous reality show - The Amazing Race. He was disturbed by the poverty in the country and the number of children who were running around on the streets without any protection for their feet. The pitter patter of their bare feet left an impression on Blake and he founded a company that runs on a simple yet profoundly brilliant and unique business model that connects the regular consumer population to a cause that needs the attention.
"Buy one pair of TOMS, and we donate a pair to a needy child somewhere in the world." Yes, it really is as simple as that and it works. A win-win in every way possible.
In their first year of inception, i.e. 2006 itself, they completed a "shoe drop" of 10,000 pairs of shoes to children in Argentina. They second "shoe drop" in November 2007 was for children in South Africa with a whopping 50,000 pairs of shoes. They are aiming to do their next "shoe drop" in the United States.
And these shoe drops are personally enriching experiences for the TOMS crew members who make the trip. An Official TOMS Blog blogger discusses one of the first deliveries on the South African drop: “She watched and eyed the bright pink pair of TOMS I had in my hand. Her little black foot was sweaty from wearing an old holey pair of shoes, too small for her feet. I slipped the shoe on her foot, but it was tight. I could see she was surprised when I told her, I was going to get a pair that fit her. I reached in my bag and pulled out the next size up which I slipped on her feet. They fit and a big smile appeared on her beautiful face. I stood up handed her the old shoes and gave her a big hug. I held her and thought: This gift of TOMS to this child is an even greater gift to me...”
A sole for every soul? Sold !!
Source: TOMS website, Wikipedia, TOMS fan and employee blogs
TOMS Shoes is derived from 'Shoes for Tommorrow' that came into inception when Blake Mycoskie had an epiphany on a trip to Argentina after competing the famous reality show - The Amazing Race. He was disturbed by the poverty in the country and the number of children who were running around on the streets without any protection for their feet. The pitter patter of their bare feet left an impression on Blake and he founded a company that runs on a simple yet profoundly brilliant and unique business model that connects the regular consumer population to a cause that needs the attention.
"Buy one pair of TOMS, and we donate a pair to a needy child somewhere in the world." Yes, it really is as simple as that and it works. A win-win in every way possible.
In their first year of inception, i.e. 2006 itself, they completed a "shoe drop" of 10,000 pairs of shoes to children in Argentina. They second "shoe drop" in November 2007 was for children in South Africa with a whopping 50,000 pairs of shoes. They are aiming to do their next "shoe drop" in the United States.
And these shoe drops are personally enriching experiences for the TOMS crew members who make the trip. An Official TOMS Blog blogger discusses one of the first deliveries on the South African drop: “She watched and eyed the bright pink pair of TOMS I had in my hand. Her little black foot was sweaty from wearing an old holey pair of shoes, too small for her feet. I slipped the shoe on her foot, but it was tight. I could see she was surprised when I told her, I was going to get a pair that fit her. I reached in my bag and pulled out the next size up which I slipped on her feet. They fit and a big smile appeared on her beautiful face. I stood up handed her the old shoes and gave her a big hug. I held her and thought: This gift of TOMS to this child is an even greater gift to me...”
A sole for every soul? Sold !!
Source: TOMS website, Wikipedia, TOMS fan and employee blogs
Jun 14, 2008
Unwritten
For all those who know me well, my pessimism won't come as a shock. I am an eternal pessimist and expect the worst for me and my future. It is some sort of a defense mechanism that allows me to not to have high expectations of success or happiness in various facets of my life that I have not lived yet. And hence minimises the risk of disappointment/hurt in the case the expectations are not met. It is as simple as thinking, "I knew it wasn't gonna happen anyway so there is nothing to be surprised or overtly upset about" instead of vice-versa. Possibly a flawed theory/perspective but it has worked for me so far.
But then come along small, unexpected rays of temporary optimism and uninhibited hope that bring a smile to my face, a glow to my cheek and a slight bounce to my step and this song did just that when I heard it this morning. Thanks Natasha Bedingfield for a great start to my day.
Unwritten
I am unwritten,
Can't read my mind
I'm undefined
I'm just beginning
The pen's in my hand
Ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten, yeah
Oh, oh
I break tradition
Sometimes my tries
Are outside the lines, oh yeah yeah
We've been conditioned
To not make mistakes
But I can't live that way oh, oh
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
the rest still unwritten
(Gospel)
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest, and probably the best, is still unwritten. And I am can't wait to find out.
But then come along small, unexpected rays of temporary optimism and uninhibited hope that bring a smile to my face, a glow to my cheek and a slight bounce to my step and this song did just that when I heard it this morning. Thanks Natasha Bedingfield for a great start to my day.
Unwritten
I am unwritten,
Can't read my mind
I'm undefined
I'm just beginning
The pen's in my hand
Ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten, yeah
Oh, oh
I break tradition
Sometimes my tries
Are outside the lines, oh yeah yeah
We've been conditioned
To not make mistakes
But I can't live that way oh, oh
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
the rest still unwritten
(Gospel)
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words
That you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inhibitions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest, and probably the best, is still unwritten. And I am can't wait to find out.
Jun 5, 2008
give up or give in?
They say that addiction is for the weak. Addicts, are (apparently) those who cannot control their emotions and succumb to that one bad habit again and again till it consumes them completely. Consumes their lives, their rationale, their bank balances, their senses, their thoughts, their future, their perceptions, their relationships, their sanity. Consumes their soul. And irrevocably, at that.
To the contrary, I believe that there a lies a certain amount of strength to be an addict. An addiction is a choice to let your whole and soul be taken over by something external. To let go. To lose control. To hand over the power and take chances. To be risqué. To really revel in the pleasure and pain of the addiction without being too chicken to experience the roller coaster ride that if offers. The first step is the hardest step. Takes you straight into the unknown. But as the affair progresses, it takes balls to have full knowledge of how something will destroy you, your life and everything you know and value, but still continue to let yourself fall deeper and deeper into it. It takes commitment to give up everything for one thing and I amazed by those who succumb to their addictions and choose a deviant, possibly fulfilling yet short existence.
Note: This post and I do not condone drugs, cigarettes (sex is an exception :), but be safe) or other addictive substances. I am dead against it and you would know if you ask my poor smoker/druggie friends who I have nagged for eternity now. This post just offers another perspective. Being a non-smoker and a non-druggie often makes me wonder what it takes to be one.
To the contrary, I believe that there a lies a certain amount of strength to be an addict. An addiction is a choice to let your whole and soul be taken over by something external. To let go. To lose control. To hand over the power and take chances. To be risqué. To really revel in the pleasure and pain of the addiction without being too chicken to experience the roller coaster ride that if offers. The first step is the hardest step. Takes you straight into the unknown. But as the affair progresses, it takes balls to have full knowledge of how something will destroy you, your life and everything you know and value, but still continue to let yourself fall deeper and deeper into it. It takes commitment to give up everything for one thing and I amazed by those who succumb to their addictions and choose a deviant, possibly fulfilling yet short existence.
Note: This post and I do not condone drugs, cigarettes (sex is an exception :), but be safe) or other addictive substances. I am dead against it and you would know if you ask my poor smoker/druggie friends who I have nagged for eternity now. This post just offers another perspective. Being a non-smoker and a non-druggie often makes me wonder what it takes to be one.
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