In the morning

Cold winter morning.
Sky ash grey covers all.
Smokey breath, still solitude
finding fulfillment in loneliness.
Sun cloaked in grey stillness,
sleeps peacefully, breathes easy.
A day to be late,
a day to bury in.
All problems forgotten.
Happiness deep, envelops all
memories and present moment.
Dance, run and laugh
drink in this wonderful air
full of love, promise and dreams eternal.
Grey music, comforting grey,
familiar grey, lonely grey
and yet... grey delight!
I am yours, grey morning
just as you are mine.

Metaphysical mess that I'm trying to figure out...

This city is home no more. There isn't a single thing in this city that is disappointing. Yet I am restless... What am i doing here? I don't belong. The more I stay here the more the wildness within me dies. As I grow older I begin to bury the truth under layers of cynicism and supposed wisdom. The fire within me is fading. Passion replaced by pragmatism. Is life to be lived within the secure confines of ignorance, surviving from day to day, afraid of change, under the disillusion that true satisfaction can be bought, ignoring one's conscience in the false belief that problems sort themselves out. Is life to be lived in surviving? Does living mean satisfying all our senses? Or does it mean debating and understanding the pertinence of existence. I am not satisfied by consumerism. Nothing the market has to offer tempts me. I am selfish. I need to be...and yet, so is everybody else. Is survival the sole basis of existence. Why this life? Why these problems? Why this suffering to those so innocent? What are they being punished for? Is there any justice? Why death, to so many who haven't begun living? Is learning important? Shouldn't I be given a chance to learn from my own death? Do I even matter?... This world is home no more... yet I am determined to try... to try living my way. Is that whats important?

Of catnaps and catnip.

I have a very entertaining cat. His intelligence takes us by surprise sometimes. For instance we have seen him flush the toilet on three separate occasions. All that remains to be done is to teach him to piss in it first. He walks about the house confident in the assumption that he rules it and that it's his territory. This inspite of the fact that he shares it with a very big, very jealous dog and a hysterical female cat. I'm going to stop here to describe my female cat (all you dog lovers may notice I'm not taking time out to describe my dog. Thats because this post is devoted exclusively to my cats). She's naturally sterile and hence naturally very crabby(my dog's been operated and she's also very crabby. I am not, in case you're wondering, referring to the formiddable, retired, sultry vixens of our species). Although she's sterile she gets plenty of action about once in two months (she's got it made huh! All the fun and none of the responsibility). At this point she becomes possessed by her inner demons. Primary amongst these being her indignation at having to share space with a drooling, disgusting beast. She gets very exhausted from all her late night orgies, where I'm quite sure she does catnip, and returns in a very bad mood(catnip hangover). This bad mood she promptly takes out on our poor resident disgusting beast, which if you haven't guessed refers to my dog. She makes my dog cower in a corner with just a reproachful glance. If she passes her in a narrow corridor she arches her back and lets out a long-drawn meaningful meow, as if to say, if you as much as breathe on me you're dead fish.
On one rare occasion she decided to take matters into her own hands and let the DB know who's boss. My brother was on the phone, my mom was in the kitchen and I was on the computer. We suddenly heard that meaningful meow I was talking about earlier, followed by a series of cat shrieks and dog growls. We rushed outside to find both of them locked in combat. Although the cat is smaller we were wondering who we should rescue first because the dog seemed to be losing. I finally pulled my cat, kicking and screaming, away from my dog. We checked both our pets to see what damage had been done only to find that my cat was unharmed while my poor dog had a scratch near her eye. According to eyewitness accounts, my dog was napping peacefully under a chair when my hysterical cat leapt on her. Hence i described her as being hysterical. She's is intolerant of any other animal other than her numerous lovers and that too only once in two months. As a pet she's adorable. She jumps up onto our lap, looks into our eyes and purrs loudly. She is also very gentle with us. I haven't been scratched by her intentionally even once, which if you know cats is a very big achievement and knowing me is an even bigger one since I love to annoy my pets. All you PFA members reading this, by annoy I don't mean that I drop hot objects on them.
In contrast to my female feline my male one strongly resembles my dog in all aspects but one. He doesn't like to snack on crap the way my dog does. Which embarrassingly she loves to do. We have tried stopping her in every way possible but when we aren't looking she sneaks out of the house, runs out onto the road and well... lets just say she doesn't feel too hungry for dinner.
My macho cat is so distinct from his feline flat mate in the most basic of ways. First off, he throws his legs out when he walks unlike our delicate female who always crosses her legs when she walks. He eats anything we put in his dish and has a very sunny disposition. The only time he's lost his temper has been when I tried to take his dish away from him while he was eating. His hobbies include pushing things off shelves (especially if they make a crashing noise on landing), playing with water and tormenting our female feline. Unlike all the other cats I've had, this one loves water. He spends inordinately long hours in the loo running around and dipping his paws in buckets filled with water. He also loves performing complicated maneuvers in order to reach and irritate our FF. This is very easily accomplished since if he lays a single claw on her she screams bloody murder. Unfortunately this just motivates him to bug her more. Thus our house is in perpetual chaos. People on the road think we torture our pets... His torment of our FF continues till she runs outside. He doesn't follow her because he is only 6 months old and still very scared of venturing outside, despite his brave exterior. All in all he's the only man in my life without whom life wouldn't be worth living. He even gives me gifts now and then, so what if they are predominantly of the dead rodent kind.
To all those people who thought that all cats are alike I hope this post has cleared your doubts...

Haiku

Wisps of clouds brush by the moon
blue moon
blood red moon
Water sparkles unceasing
treasure revealed
yet unseen.
Glorious mud rich with scent
the scent of life and that of death.

Love unrequited

I've been in a melancholy mood for a while now. Please bear with all my blue posts. This will be the last one. I determine to write brighter stuff henceforth. The inspiration for this poem came to me in a flash. No idea why...

These feelings that I give unto you
were not begot in a day or two.
The first was when we met as friends
Since then I find there seems no end.
Out of control they overwhelm me
deciding my happiness and my sorrow, deciding who I'll be.
The worst part is yet to come,
of these feelings I know, naught can be done.
For my friend, my love, you who understands me
cannot, these feelings return I see.
I know, I understand and I respect,
your decision final and correct.
For two more mismatched people I do not know.
You the ocean and I the shore.
But these feelings, confound them, they overwhelm me
deciding my happiness and my sorrow, deciding who I'll be.

Chipping away at my rock like existence in an attempt to create art.

I've been away... Went out of town to take a break from taking a break. Been on a study break for a year now. Did various things. None of them involved mastering a skill or discovering an epiphanous truth about myself. Unless you count discovering my ability to vandalise my hair as epiphanous. I first got my beautiful long hair cut till it looked like a freshly mowed lawn. Next as if that wasn't enough, after it had grown to a decent length I cut myself a fringe. My brother thought I looked like friar tuck from robinhood. Although I had a good laugh initially, I am now rueing my rash decision... (a sentiment that has been very familiar to me for most of my life). Nothing in life seems so bad that it cannot be tried once...

Most of my time during this 'break' was spent in trying (real hard) to be productive. Unfortunately, on many days I just got up and drifted towards the tv and watched it till I felt sick. As I drifted I collected assorted debris that I used to build a nest of sorts in front of the tv. This so that I could spend uninterrupted hours watching the interesting lives of other people. Short of bringing the loo closer to the tv room, I had everything I needed within arms reach.These items included, my watch- to remind me to feel guilty about how much I was pickling my brain, the remote, food and water and the phone. On days like these, I did have moments of productivity. They were like streaks of light on an inky night sky and most often involved running errands either for my grandmom or for myself...

A large part of the past year has been spent in dealing with many personal problems, ranging from understanding my parents better to coming to grips with my identity and feeling comfortable with who I am (a big problem area for me). I've done a lot of thinking and crying and I now feel better equipped to handle my future than I did last year.

I have learnt many lessons in the past year. Primary amongst tham are that I am not a very talented hair dresser and that sometimes change sneaks up on you and chomps you on the butt. I have also learnt that loving a person with every particle of your being isn't enough for them to love you in return (no matter what they say in the movies). Most importantly, I have learned that I love writing. This I shall do much more of in the coming years as I have found that it is as addictive as dancing and making out.

Post number 3

This post marks an epic moment in my life. For the first time, I have passed the two post mark while maintaining a blog. I guess that since my life is super screwed up now, I finally have something to write about. I believe that unless you aren't super screwed up at some point in your life then you don't grow up. I finally qualify. Yay! It's time to celebrate.
I have never known what I wanted to be. Every year it was something different. I've wanted to be a vet, a designer, a dancer at different stages in my life and even an auto driver and waitress when I felt like I would never be any good at anything and hence had to think of ways to survive. As I travelled about my city I would look at a guy sweeping the road and think, I could do that if I fail at everything else and had to think of my survival. Now that I think about it I could just seduce a rich guy! Except that seduction isn't an art I have perfected or understood or known my entire life. The only males I have ever manipulated are my cats (quite easily achieved by holding their catnip away from them). I have to rush now. My female dog is manipulating me. She needs her walk and the bambi eyed look she's giving me is too much for me to take...

Granmama

I have had the most exhilerating day today. Well, in comparison to the rest of the week atleast. Today I crawled out of my house (my skin having turned sun sensitive and translucent) to run errands. By errands I refer to those evil creatures that lurk in your subconscious mind, silently gnawing away at your conscience. With my sieve like conscience I ventured out into the real world to finish some work for my grandmother. Having walked all the way to the bank I started feeling like such a good, dutiful, grand-daughter again that I decided not to push my luck and came back home. Hence I accomplished one millionth of what I was supposed to in that I identified the treacherous and perilious path to the bank. Although it appears as if I chickened out it was in actuality a courageous beginning I assure you. If you knew my granma you would know, that to do any work for her is to paint 'I love Iran' on your walls and call Bush junior for dinner. She thinks everyone wants whatever she's got. Especially her money... and her watermelon seeds. Don't think the squirrels who steal the watermelon seeds from her garbage get away. I'm pretty sure those seeds are laced with arsenic before they're thrown away. She's really, quite a good woman... I mean who would want squirells to steal their watermelon seeds right? It's totally understandable. But I'm always super cautious when I'm doing her work. If there are two things I hate more than anything else on this planet, it's misunderstandings and false accusations. Who loves them right? It's just that I positively dread being misunderstood. I'm saying this not in the profound sense (you've read the rest of this para right?) but in the day to day 'I did not take a cookie from the cookie jar' way. My grandmom is the undisputed queen in this department. She once accused my mom of swiping a cool 40k from her when my mom had taken that money from her to spring clean her house where the furniture qualifies as artifacts. In addition to the mouldy wood there exist an array of interesting fauna in the dingy nooks and cranies found in abundance in her bat cave. I am quite sure i saw a flying samurai lizard in her house once. How else must one explain how and why a lizard launches itself off a wall to collide with a shrieking and evidently hysterical woman who is equally evidently going to squash it with one swift blow from a broom. I am quite sure they were planning an attack. The lizards manned the aerial attack while the roaches went for our legs. They also had a secret weapon. We found what looked like rat crap all over the place but to date we haven't been able to find a live rat. Once my grandmom called me up (she lives in a different city) to give me a surprise. She had left icecream in her freezer. This she told me six months after she'd left. When I finally reached there (after another month had passed) I found tons of brown stuff enveloping the fridge. They were the size of rice grains and I was hoping and praying that they didn't sprout eyes and wings. In a bucket in the corner of the kitchen I had another surprise waiting for me. There were three dead rat babies in a bucket. I had no idea how they got there and more interestingly I didn't know if she had left them there for me to deal with. They were almost completely decomposed. If she had told me six months later I would have found just their skeletons. That would have been easier to deal with...
Inspite of all this I really do care about my grandmother, or so I keep telling myself when I'm skulking about her bat cave trying to find some paper or the other that I need to do her work. Shes the only grandparent I have left. I'd rather do all this stuff for her now than regret it later. After all, she does help my sieve like conscience heal and my confidence grow. Hence whenever I see a breathtakingly beautiful model on tv I say to myself, I bet she's shallow as hell and doesn't care about her grandmother at all.

Intro

How hard could it possibly be to write a para of prose everyday about anything and everything. It appears that I have a very large canvass to work with. Unfortunately I'm not feeling at my verbose best now, which knowing me is saying something. I had so many ideas the other night which all seem too insignificant or plain dumb to express and display for the whole world (if it ever stumbled across my blog...) to judge. Why is it that the best ideas always seem to come to you when you are about to sleep? I always feel too lazy to write anything down at 2am in the morning when my eyes finally decide to shut. But to my distress I always forget about those brainwaves in the morning. Sometimes, I come up with the dumbest idea when I'm just about to fall asleep. Like if I was worrying about how I liked someone and how I wanted to know if they felt the same way I would come up with an idea to sing a ballad under their window in an unintentionally off-tune voice (a cliche, I know. But one that requires a lot of courage!). If the person in question liked me then they wouldn't mind my bad voice. They would get tears in their eyes just at the thought that someone out there cares about them enough to even try such a stunt...or so i hope. At 2 in the morning such an idea always seems to me to be brilliant and foolproof. In the morning however I feel so foolish that I hope that no one can read my thoughts. I've never been able to understand how I remember the goofy stuff but always forget the sophisticated intelligent stuff...
Anyway, I'm done talking about nothing for today. I hope I have more to say tomorrow. Till my next post...