I miss

I miss Class XI. I miss that year. If there was any year I could go back to and live all over again, it would be the school year 2000-01. If there is any year that I look back on and remember tonnes of fun, and immense peace of mind, lots of little successes and a dozen great friends, its the year I was in Class XI.

Sometimes I wish I could go back there - where the only stress was exams (and hell, in retrospect, I liked giving them). And I wonder if life can ever be like that again. I don't know if it can. But it's nice to imagine.

Neverland, Wonderland - do we ever really grow out of those places? Will fairy tales ever cease to matter? Will Santa Claus ever feel like just another marketing gimmick. I hope not.

Class XI was one of those years when everything turned out just fine in the end. 2009 just doesn't have the same touch to it. Hopefully, 2010 will be a whole new story.

In search of a bear hug

Sometimes, I feel superior to everyone else. Happens pretty often. It's not always a wonderful feeling, but it's not terrible either.

People advise. But you don't want it. People sympathise. But you don't want that either. People try to get into your shoes - but hell, it's not one size fits all.

There are stories and there are stories. Some aren't mine to tell. Some are, but I don't want to tell them - not to everyone, maybe not even to anyone. So many stories, and yet the ones you record, aren't quite real. Fiction is so much happier and just than real life - so much easier to understand.

I wish my father were Baloo the Bear. But he's not. And life goes on.

Untitled

What's great about a blog, is that if you word it right, no one will guess what you're really talking about. I guess, the written word does offer a sense of privacy that the spoken one tends to take away.

Yesterday I entered a condom store and emerged out with a bed pan. Today I spoke to a man who feels like a woman.

It's been an eventful month minus the value judgements.

PS: Today's my 1-year anniversary. Gifts are welcome. Cash please.

PSS: Also the famous Chomu Kunda's budday.

Bad month blues

This has been a terrible month. And its my birthday month also. Things have been so bad, that they can't possibly get very much worse. I'm exhausted to the littlest mitochondriums in my system. I need a 1-month holiday. But my official leaves are soon going to be fucked up completely. And I currently have no money to call my own. Sigh. So much to think about. So much to stress you out. Life at 25 doesn't seem like fun at all.

Welcome to my official quarter-life crisis.

On the bright side, at least my favourite season is here.