jack in a box.

i'm going to travel. and see the world. and take pretty pictures. and sing loudly. and everything's going to be new. and with every second that passes i'm going to move farther. and farther. and farther. away from the person you used to know.

every once in a while i'll visit me when i was you. i'll reminisce over little things. and season it with the bitter things. and tell myself i've seen the world. so i don't have to live in a box.



in moments of sheer, utter panic and much hopelessness, one is thankful for:

1. having a blog to vent to.
2. mother dairy's new fruit yoghurts. especially blueberry.
3. friends on speed dial.
4. friends who clearly believe in me more than i do.
5. shel silverstein.
6. facebook's 24 hour wait for reactivation. (because otherwise, i'd cheat all the time!)
7. the beatles.

okay, got to get back to writing.


some people have two faces

a mirror can lie to you, you know.

it'll tell you you're fat
when you're really okay;
it'll tell you you're right
when you're really to the left.

it'll show you your scars
when you cover them up;
it'll show you your make up
when you hide it all.

it'll tell you to your face
when you're showing it your back;
it'll tell you you're right
when you're really just not.

but some people have two faces, you know.

and they can lie to mirrors, just so.



i always miss my camera when it rains.

but the skies are like winter, it smells like rain, the grass is wet and overgrown. there are sparrows on the wall, i can hear them chirping all the way here. two kites are being fought, one red and one white.

and tom waits is singing,
i feel much cleaner, after it rains.


day by numbers.

11th day.
7th month.
25th year.
22341 words.
2 panic attacks.
3 days to go.
1 mile.
36 minutes. (!)
5 kilos this way.
5 kilos that way.
3 chocolates.
1 unopened bottle of wine.
0 club memberships. 
0 plans for the future.

have a great bloody day on me, everybody!



It was around two years ago that I first tried explaining to someone the joy of having a girlfriend. You can tell them anything, I explained. And by "anything", I honestly didn't mean sex or masturbation. These are sort of given, I'm sure men do that with their male friends too; and I don't think there is a true girlfriend if she doesn't know how and when you last made out with someone. I meant the little things, like what annoys you about purple post-its, or the travails of finding the perfect risotto, or obsessing about a side character in the last book you read.

Obviously, there is some physical intimacy. Most women I know aren't okay with being completely naked in front of other women. Especially if you live with them, whether in a flat or in a hostel, these lines become exceedingly clear. I find that most women have all sorts of crazy rules about who should see them naked and how, whether they're okay with being completely naked in front of other women, public showers, sleeve lengths, trouser lengths, skirt lengths, fits of pants, I could go on and on. 

The nature of physical intimacy with a girlfriend is completely different from any other kind of physical intimacy I know. I've shared a bed with two women for different periods of time in a year. On some mornings, we'd wake up absolutely tangled up in each other. On some nights, we'd cuddle into one or the other. On most nights, because we'd all have different sleep cycles, we'd all have the bed to ourselves because the room would be otherwise empty. There is a kind of physical comfort that comes with having girlfriends, sharing spaces, menstruation cycles, bags, clothes, shoes, food, shampoos, sanitary napkins, tampons, deodorants, stuff. I don't think I know of really any other relationship that gives me this kind of comfort.

But more significant than the physical intimacy, is a sort of emotional and social intimacy that one has with one's girlfriends. I consider myself quite lucky to have several girlfriends, all of whom share their lives with me most intimately. (Some of them share them too intimately for my comfort. For the record, if you are going to talk to me from the bathroom, may be you can let me know after you flush.) I know about aunties in offices who steal their lunch everyday, I know about the dress they really want to fit into if only they managed to lose some weight, I know about stuff strangers have said to them passingly that have changed the way they see themselves. 

Most of my girlfriends live in a different city, continent, timezone, whatever, right now; so I've had email threads spanning several hundreds about mundane things and important things. I receive ten emails a day on an average, about puppies on roads or the food they're eating or the weather in their city. I've sent tons and tons of emails about similarly random stuff, and these really make our day. "Reply All" really is a default setting on gmail for most of us. We may not be clued in to our work crap, or issues we're having with our partners, but we definitely know what the others are having for lunch. We all throw tantrums and bicker and bitch and love and hate, all on international conference phone calls or skype or google chat. (Really, google chat changed our lives.)

And with all this, they're the most indispensable part of my life!

Here's to having girl friends. :)



(this has become my permanent state of mind, and really my only thought. singular.
but to compensate, here's a pretty instagram-y picture of my new stationery!)



and get some ice cream.


alone in the clouds all blue

we promised we'd stay

and we'd have conversations
(real or imaginary)
with clowns and lions
(red nosed or reindeered)
and laugh at all the right places
(i'll tip my hat and gape at your head)
and pretend we're singing
(off key and melodiously)

but here i am
(alone in the night)
counting the floaters in my eyes
(purple and blue and wily white)
listening to footsteps
(there's a ghost upstairs)
and waiting for sleep to come.


(title from flaming, pink floyd again - yippee, you can't see me, but i can, you.)