Serendipity of Nonsense

               An avowal of all the beeeeeeeeeeeeeg events of my life was the sole purpose of this blog, but somewhere along the way the 'big' got replaced by erratic and random, and then further down, the word 'events' pretty much got lost in its own self. The loss of the word 'events' was made clearer with my intense need to reiterate the fact that my life was getting dull, duller than Dr.Phil on a rainy day. So I was pretty much left with 'erratic' and 'random', which I have been using to their full advantage, as you'd know if you have been around here awhile. But those of you who haven't, yes, I love to call myself  ' nonsense ' and yes, randomly droning on absolutely nothing at all is something I do with great pride. But I veer away (as usual). I am back here, rather surprisingly because lately the idea of the blog being left untouched is better than having something to write about. I hereby announce that I am almos...

All my life no words could have rung truer than when Carrie Bradshaw sleepily announced,"But I rationalized that my new shoes shouldn't be punished just because I can't budget." unquote UO Red Ballerina Flats  Beer bellied men buy real estates, the MBA victims spend on mutual funds, S.P Tulsian and market incarnations alike tend to imbue in other's hard earned money, most Indian women buy jewelery, the boy next door sinks in his packet of chips and the young man endows in his present date.  I buy shoes. Well, I invest in shoes. ahem! sounds better now. My hard earned allowance. My choice. But not in the very responsible and economic way of buying shoes. I just sometimes, by very unfortunate luck miss being able to afford food. But what the heck! the tacky  Gallianos' I have a closet full of uncomfortable heels and soles that can put up an unfair competition to  J'Lo;s wig collection . And I do not even let my mother throw them ...

Its funny how its becoming a sore chore to put things up here. Spilling out paragraphs of utter nonsense is not as easy as it sounds. And hell NO! I am not dead yet, although i very much would love to be. - - - - - - On the contrary, that sounds suicidal, so just hold on. I am not dead yet.

What would have happened if I had not met you? I would not have lied about things that did not happen. I wouldn't have to think how I could be better than the ex. I would not have wished for more. Not having the feeling of being deprived of the love I deserve. Not ignoring my friends for someone like you. No feeling humiliated when I was told I was regretted. No breaking of hearts. No waiting for call every single night. No talking of my male friends under hushed wooden ceiling. No thoughts about I am wrong but I still have to go on. No falling in love every moment I saw you. No tear stains on the pillow. No craving for sound sleep. What did happen when I actually met you? The only point I remember now is the pain . Never again. "If anyone who happen to glance through or just stumble upon accidentally on this blog, please do leave a comment and make my day."

An ode. Because they deserve much more. There are wonderful people in this world. And you are quite lucky if they are around. They are God's apology for not making better relatives. I am lucky enough to have them around. I have such wonderful and sometimes pain-in-the-neck friends.  Because they tell the ex-boyfriends - Dude, stop messing up. She is way over you by now. (even if the break up happened last night) Because they tell the present one- Better watch out. One mistake; your ass our whip. No goofing around. Because when they turn to you they say- Chic, stop whining over him. Get up. Get a life. They send you birthday cards when your birthday is 5 months away.  They send bunch of roses anonymously to your hostel just to make you secretly happy. That unfortunately are thrown away anyways. No worries. They drive all the way down to the laundry to pick the outfit you wish to wear for the date tonight. They threaten to unsubscribe from...

My Dida (read:grandma) and Ma were having major gripes ever since I disappeared one Saturday afternoon ages ago and got my traces cut "all by myself". And I entered the house with such a show and pomp with my new short haircut and red highlights(which any human with normal vision could not even see). But my mother being her, actually claimed that all my hair has gone red, and that I was a 'red-head'.  Ever since then every time I get a haircut, I lose interest in the first one week and I die to get another one, despite the sucking hair growth since the last 4 years.  There were times I would get tummy twangs watching my hair grow and would run for a haircut every 15 days. I still crib about having a haircut every month, thankfully my roommate successfully can hold me back. Now thats the Quirky me! Cut to dida and Ma:  Anything that happens, my recent haircut is blamed. Even if I get a toothache, they manage to find ways to connect to...

 have been away for a long time.  All my attempts to start NabloPaMo for the last 2 months have been crushed by my own laziness. I penned down 5 stories and a few poems, but nothing came up on the blog. The paper napkin at CCD has more patience than this blog. Grrr, and like all those relations where you get back no matter how worthless they are, I come back to this blog each day, to read and to think "wish I could write like them" *Ahh! Sigh* And my poor blog is now stinking like the rotten egg, with nothing new. Uggghhh!! did I say that out loud? If you have not noticed I have taken the pains in changing the template a bit. Meanwhile I read hundreds of post on others' blogs. I have developed this R.F.P syndrome.  Reading First Post syndrome , I cannot sit still unless I dig into the first post written on every blog that I go through. I love reading how the blog was started, what was the reason of its coming to existence. Its my marijuana since the last few mont...