I Rony, You?

Its funny how the stuff you expect to change, doesn't change at all. Its the same conversation, the same comfort level, the same mad laughter, the same care & concern and same long talks about common interests.
And the stuff you hope will remain unchanged goes through changes you don't want but none the less know(or have been informed) are probaby good ones. Changed conversations, long silences, wierd laughter, a lot of growing up. That especially i don't welcome.
Murphy's law gives a kick on the ass as usual.

The Lazyboy Vortex

Stagnation is a cruel affair. The more you flirt with him(?). The more he pulls you in. Pull your self away from him. But he is so tempting to fall into. So easily. Blame. For its an easy game. No responsibility. Just whining.
But start to walk away from him. Maybe pick up the speed a bit. And suddenly you're jogging and then running. At full speed. Stagnation is following you. No fear. Just a step behind. So easy to let go and just fall back into his outstreched arms. But you don't see it cause its smooth road. And then you hit a road black. And his arms are there. Like a lazyboy. Just waiting for you to sink into it.
Stagnation, its a black hole. Velvety. Soft.
And then you're gettting sucked into the vortex. Of nothingness. Of days strecthing into nights and nights into days. And slip further down into the lazyboy. And wrap up in the comforter. Eat chocolates and gorge on fat free ice cream. And then get sucked into it some more.

So

Run, Lolakutty, Run!

Special Skills

Whenever I hear about having special skills or talents ( i guess here we are talking about skills other than having opposable thumbs), i give myself a pat in the back...now this is quite difficult...what with me not being very swelt and flexible any more...but i digress.

So my special skill is that I can skillfully work my blog/ short stories page into any conversation, into any chat window, into any mail. I can casually throw the name around at parties. I have even been able to work it into conversations at work about arbid technologies.

Its even more painful for the other party involved, if there is a PC around. I will pretend to help the unwilling reader by opening my page and like a mother does, of a child, showing off every boring detail about it. I will talk about the design and posts/ stories that are my favourites. Of course the definition of the "favourite" could include photographs, copied quotes, absolutely anything. Its called flexible categorization. I will be working on a paper on this soon.

But the skill doesn't really stop at mentioning it off-hand. See, most people I meet are always polite enough to say, please send us the address. (Note to Self: Then don't really mean this!)
I then proceed to tell them exactly how to get to my short story page and then I follow up by sending them a mail with both the addresses. I'm quite determined as you can see. I'm sure there is an underground movement forming to thwart my excesses. Did that sound just a little bit sinful??

Anyways, since I'm not posting too much and I haven't written a short story for ages, this skill is getting a little blunt now-a-days. I mean I have a conscious you see. But as more of my friends have started a-blogging recently, it has created a renewed surge of exchanging blog ids.

I think I would also do well as as one of those secret service agents who extract information from the good/ bad guys. I am a marvel at subtly(?) leading on the witness (victim?) till he/ she spills the required compliment on the writing. You have to see it to believe it. I'm quite a pro.

Recently, I have noticed a tendency of people to disperse as I approach them. There is also a flurry of PCs being switched off and available blank paper and pens, pencils being hastily shoved out of sight. I don't quite get why this is happening. Me thinks I will do a study on this and post it either on my blog http://memyselfmyruminations.blogspot.com/ or maybe I'll creatively turn into a story and post it on http://nandita.mundle.googlepages.com/. Ha! Gotcha!

You didn't see that coming, did ya?

The 1st Time

My b school

I wonder what they wonder

I wonder
What other people think about

Do they form poems in their heads
Whenever they see a capturing moment
Do they see collages of photos
In black and white and sepia
When they are with family and friends

Do people choreograph
Songs in their head
Do they direct scenes with elaborate backdrops
When they read a book

When they read a well constructed sentence,
Do they repeat it to half a dozen people
Do they feel that reading out a well written essay
Makes other people happy

Do they dream up
Whole conversations before meeting people

I know I'm a dreamer,
But am I the only one?