Profound crap!

Workinggggggggggg! Saturday!!!! Weather!!!! Traffic!!!! Economy!! Fuel prices!!! Ooooooo…damn! to add to the misery... My feet hurt. My feet hurt so much I think I might have either juvenile arthritis or a deeper, more horrifying malady. Or maybe it's just a week spent in the most insipid way possible, I don't know. Either way I want to hammer a huge nail into the wall slowly and insistently, that's how bad it is.

But that wasn't the point at all. I'm such a whiner sometimes I think I'll get NEEDY tattooed on my forehead. Bah!!

So. I love the smell of lemon, and the smell of homemade ghee wafting through the house when I return from work (I don’t eat it, that’s a different story altogether!). I love that one particular lyric right in the middle of a song which turns it into something I will look all over the internet for. I love, love, love watching color around me in a way that scares me sometimes, I get royally ticked off if things don't look like they're the exact color they were meant to be.

I love raw guavas, and ripe purple Jamuns!!! And I love the things used to decorate public buses. Also cabs. Images or statues of gods, right in front of the driver, with flashing lights going red-blue-green-purple in that hypnotic way, I love riding my bike…it's therapy like no other. I love annoying tiny kids (he he he) and I loooooooooooooooooooove dogs!!

I especially love kiddy socks and underwear with cartoon characters all over them. And the slow way in which ground sandalwood paste dries up on some ones forehead!

I love writing, but I can't seem to do much of it nowadays.

I love the fact that this post would have had different loves on it had I started writing it ten minutes before, or ten minutes after I actually did. Physics, existence, the human brain, whatever, I increasingly think the only way I can be happy is to work for a television, hosting some cool show. But that is another parallel fantasy altogether!

P.S: Lame thoughts I say!

Wolfmother!

I've decided to be a mean parent to my kids. It's really sad when kids are treated like prodigies because they win certificates and singing contests and things. Soon enough they'll grow up and realize they're actually pretty mediocre and then they'll have an identity crisis or something, so I might as well treat them like crap from the very beginning. I’m destined to be hated by my kids thanks to my superman husband who is plotting and planning to be the candy jar in disguise! So… well, I’ll be a wolfmother. Swing them around by the scruff of the neck. Take them horse riding and point and laugh if they fall off, chuck them into ponds to teach them to swim, place a jam jar with an insanely tight lid in front of them and demand they make their own sandwiches. What nice, tough, impossibly competent kids I'll have, proper gum-chewing twerps with life skills who'll understand the dignity of labor. At age ten they'll be repairing generators and computer circuits and things. Then they'll get on reality television and rough it out some more and get rich and thank me during interviews. Then there'll be delirious giggling....! he he he ;)

P.S: ;)