Where Did You Sleep Last Night?

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Brown Paper Bag

When I called up S, an old friend from school who has been in touch over the years, and told him about the exciting new job I had been offered at a law firm in a wonderful city  with an enviable pay package, he was eager to know when I would start. When he realised that I didn't intend to start at all, he was progressively shocked, surprised, and then, resigned. He did, however, try to persuade me with an oft-heard refrain that I can help "poor people"- as he called them, by donating half my salary to charities, and that I do not need to get my hands dirty for what I hoped to do.

I tried to explain to him, but he didn't understand that while I did want to help the "poor people", I wanted to be right there when it happens. I want to live amongst them, and experience their poverty. I want to sink my feet in the freshly turned field in a  village snuggled somewhere deep in the country and speak to a poor person who comes along.

He didn't understand, and hung up the phone. 

In retrospect, I don't understand it myself. In my head, I think, the "poor people" are romanticized.

Read this.

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Mambo-Tango

I'm really too sleepy to be blogging just now, but I just want to write. Write enough to attain "unconscious competence", as Gogs pointed out to me. I want to achieve my kung fu.

I spend the whole night with MJ and D watching two movies back to back. They were about entirely different times, different characters, two stories that could probably never meet; and I felt the same glowy warm feeling in my heart having watched both. The feeling that the world is good, and what's bad in it, can be sorted out. Needs sorting out.

In the first, a woman in the 1950s tries to change, but realises that change for others is not being true to oneself. In the second, a young terrifically attractive charming young man wants to be useful, somehow.
Not all who wander are aimless. 
People are strange.

I won't blame tonight for my troubles, I promise. I'm so happy. :)

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Venice Queen

I have been a little sad, lately. Chipped in the edges and jaded. I've been talking less, laughing less, and smiling very rarely. And for the longest time, I hadn't even realised. When I did realise - on the rare ocassions - I'd tell myself that I'd tide over that phase of sadness; and be happy again. Except, there have been phases after phases, one after the other; and I just haven't had a happy phase in SO long.

So, today, I've decided to take responsibility for my happiness. And I'd like to thank the Geminid Meteorite Showers for the same. I lay on the terrace today, as I am usually found, and looked up and stars after stars fell away in every direction. Okay, that might be a wee bit exaggerated - but come on, I saw SIX shooting stars; and between us, we saw more. They were like tiny beautiful silver arrows; and there were so many of them. And as I was watching a very beautiful and unusually clear sky, it suddenly came upon me that I've been wasting my life in this whole sadness business.

I have, therefore, decided that I shall not allow my whimsy self to be sad from now on. I am going to smile all the time. ALL the time, and we all know how hard that is. Actually, I feel like slapping people who smile all the time. Nobody has any business smiling all the time. Like babies have no business not being fat. Or even like guys having no business not waiting for girls. Anyway, I have decided that I have no business being sad all the time; because there is this just one life, and we got to live it, and we might as well make the most of it, while we can eh?

I've been so sad for many months now, even though it takes precious little to make me happy. A pretty sky and a few falling stars have made me happy again.

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Found!

Found on a coaster at Infinitea-

"I'm a tidy sort of bloke. I don't like chaos. I kept records in the record track, tea in the tea caddy, and pot in the pot box."

- George Harrison

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Just Another J

Every J runs the danger of becoming just another J. And with the increasing rate of the decreasing marginal utility of lovingly rolled Js as the day goes by, Js are forgotten in the mayhem. In the beginning, I remember each J used to translate into a memory - very often, "cosmic connections" - and we would remember it, and laugh later. Now, Js are rolled out on conveyor belts like a factory assembling cars; and each J is smoked, and forgotten, as soon as the next one is ready. Each J becomes just. another. J.

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After Slog earnt herself a million karma points after her good deed for the day, we proceeded to indulge in a common hobby. Later, we combated each other to save our bums from being kicked by each other.

And, now, I shall sleep in my cosy, comfortable bed in my super clean room. It's really sad how WHM thinks my obsessive compulsion with constantly cleaning my room is symptomatic of an under-lying psychological problem.

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