Thank God for opposable thumbs! All I do on my way to work on some days is type, type, type. I type out reminders, I type out lists, I type out emails – mostly personal, and I type to tweet. I pour my thoughts out on virtual paper like this for future editing/mailing, and I love re-reading old notes to self thT Ive forgotten abt.

It’s not like Aida at home but is a little person all by itself. I can’t carry Aida in my pocket or use her to make calls, and I know Ive been neglecting her of late, but I love her still!

I’m supposed to be this geek, but I’ve not had the time to download as many apps to my phone as I expected I would. I’ve not fully explored it’s potential and parts of me would rather cook and knit than spend time trying to download apps that i don’t seem to need (only coz I don’t have them yet, I guess).

However, the ones I have, I make full use of. My love-hate relationship with the SBS buses for example, can be tempered if I check when the bus I desire is expected to arrive at the stop I’m at. It isn’t always 100% accurate, but spares me from walking about with a black cloud over my head for the rest of the day.

I’m not much of a shopping person, and it’s fairly easy to shop with me. Shopping is one of two things- I either want things or I need things. And then I either have the money or I don’t. It’s simple really. I try it on, and decide in 5 mins. If I take longer, I have to leave, coz not deciding is painful for my brain and for my poor accompanying friend. Besides, there’s so much more to do after shopping. Thus, the mall app is a godsend! I don’t have to walk miles to find one store, I can just look up individual mall directories while on my way there. It makes my life so much more effecient and orderly.

The phone has not helped with my sleeplessness. I feel like I’m wired to it and wake up thinking it’s buzzing, especially if I’m expecting texts or obsessing abt the lack of texts. I do have a spanking alarm, though… It wakes me by forcing me to password-unlock it to shut it up. Lol!

I love the fact that I can send a link to a web page through text and anothr iPhone user can simply click to view it. I love how I organise my life on it, I love that it’s passcode locked and I love how pretty he is. I adore the constant connectivity and I don’t know what I’d do without him!

But, I don’t like the ringtones and wish I could have my own tunes play when it rings. I hate when it hangs and gives me heartburn. I don’t like the battery life that’s shorter than the attention span of a sex-obsessed teen, and I wish the ’smart phone’ would stop being so smart when I’m typing and substitute words forcefully, creating stupid sentences.

In the past 2 months, Ive become so attached and dependent on this little pocket computer that sometimes I wonder if I’ll be able to exist without this contraption… I can’t believe I was completely oblivious to the magic, but am glad I now have young Holmes by my side at all times :)

Humans are islands. We know we can’t really depend on anyone else – we hope we can, but deep down, that three-headed pessimist lies coiled, waiting to strike when unaware, swallowing the optimistic bird whole.

I’m old enough to write many volumes on the situational facets of ‘love’, the stupid dramas and the unnecessary angst that is a necessary part of the  hormonal lust-filled (emotional) roller-coaster. If it is all that terrible, why do I keep queuing up for the same ride? It can’t be THAT compelling, can it? So I veer to the other explanation – I must be a masochist. The pain helps me feel more alive, perhaps?

I think i know the answers, and I think you, dear voyeurstic reader, know them too. But unlike you, i’m not going to walk into any more medieval traps; and if I do, I’m going to know it will be as painful as being in an Iron Maiden.

I don’t think this is meant for me. I think it’s time I erased all data and started afresh. Again.

But eventually, after the dust has settled, I ask myself why I bother…

I am not prone to plastering super-personal emotional angst on this blog. I promised myself I’d post ‘happy things’ here. However, i’m hoping this will make me happy again, and I wont keep checking my phone a hundred times a minute for texts, and I wont keep refreshing my gmail and chat for activity every 15 minutes. The iPhone IS a curse!
What I feel is not unique, and what you feel isn’t either.
The poets knew what they were talking about, surely :)
xxxxx

I wonder what Sparky thinks when he looks up at us.
Does he look at us and think.. “Hmmm… Feed Me. NOW!” Or does he just think, “Bone! i need a bone!” Or “Ball!!!! Play with me. Please play with me???” *puppy face*

He doesn’t make a sound, barks only if a stranger rings the bell, or if he smells a vile dog and wants to pick a fight, and is most happy when his humans are in the house so that he can curl up at their feet and bite their toes while they’re busy typing. The only time he’s ‘cried’ was on New year’s eve when he wanted to go to make Wee, and we didn’t understand him, and left him home alone. What follows is a detailed description of a few things that make Sparky a unique pup (and I of course, modestly make no reference to his impeccable Champion pedigree on both sides of the family tree ;P).

Waking up. When Sparky wakes up, or is half asleep, he has a peculiar look on his face. His head is droopy, his gait is slow and unsteady, and he almost always comes and puts his paws on my thighs and S-T-R-E-T-C-H-E-S by arching his back into a ‘C’. A giant jaw-unhinging yawn follows, where I’m treated to a view of his Mandibles of Death. That done, I know he’s decided to wake up, and he hops back to the floor and proceeds to shake the sleep off him… It’s wonderful to watch him shake – it starts with a minor vibration at the tip of his nose, gradually increasing in intensity towards his torso, legs, vibrating down to the tip of his little stumpy tail. I love watching him shake!
His eyes are now all bright and alert, his pink tongue sticks out and he’s all ready to chase the toy mouse with a triangular head or go on one of his many missions to rid our house of stinky socks.

Sparky’s “Jobs”. You see, Sparky is not just a pet. He earns his keep by performing various household chores like -
Fetching Things That Don’t Need to be Fetched. Under this category, I can add socks – both fresh and dirty, slippers that aren’t locked up, shoes with laces, shoes that have pretty metal buttons or buckles, bathroom mats, my sleep-toy (which is as big as he is, but he persists by gripping it by the neck and dragging it to his sleep cushion), toppling over my wash basket and dashing off with my lacy underthings… I’m sure he has a secret location somewhere where he stashes our socks and other small things that we just can’t seem to locate.

Chewing
to force things to submit to his will. Sparky will chew anything that can be chewed. As of this morning, the iron’s plug has duly been bitten, and every morning, I’m woken up not with wet doggie kisses, but with nibbles on the digits that peek from under my blanket. In addition to chewing everything he fetches and stashes in his secret corner, he managed to grab a pack of cigarettes from the table, and while R was in the bath, he chewed the packet, ciggies and all! He was caught red-handed with cigarette butts sticking out of his mouth, and an hour later, he threw up. His pretty red leash has been partially shredded and is now tassel-like. He finds this most entertaining.

Sparky is a Cat. I’m serious. I’ve been told that Mini Schnauzers are the cats among dogs, and I don’t know if it applies to all, but Sparky has leftover traits from being a cat in his past life, and that shines through at the strangest moments. For instance, tassles, dangling strings and balloons! I’ve never seen a dog leap and jump and behave like a circus animal when you dangle tassles or a bit of string in front of him! He even chews my knitting and makes off with my wool!
Mini Schnauzers have “beards,” so when they eat, the beard gets all messy too. Sparky can’t stand this and after each meal, if we forget to wipe his mouth and beard, he proceeds to do it himself by rubbing his face on the cushions, towels, floor mats, bedroom slippers, curtains, aprons, and any other stray tee-shirt or clothing that’s accidentally lying around.
Then there are the cats downstairs who he desperately wants to befriend, or used to before he got his nose swiped at. LOL.
Also, he has the tendency to walk at my heels, and then weave between my feet and trip me. How can you NOT call his creature a cat, I say!
When I used to let him sleep with me, he’d find the warm spot in the curve of my tummy and position himself right there, and curl into a ball and lie there blissfully unaware of the pain he’s causing me. And did I mention the cat-like purring? Sparky’s equivalent of purring in his throat is this “grrrr” sound he makes that is almost like a growl, but it isn’t, coz he makes it only when he’s being stroked sometimes. LOL.
I wont be surprised if tomorrow he starts to think that sleeping on his owner’s head is a good idea!

Curiosity and motivation to keep his owners occupied will kill this cat. But he should totally get full marks for wanting to be involved in everything we do. It doesn’t matter if we’re running around in the morning, throwing clothes on, rushing, coz we’re late to work, Sparky will do everything in his power to help and hinder us. You must understand that according to him, there’s no greater joy in the world than to make your owner play ‘fetch’ with socks – only here, the owner has to do the fetching, not the other way around. Poor puppy. I think all he wants to do is make us realise that he is up and willing to play all day, if only we don’t leave him home alone. *Sigh*

The other things that Sparky HAS investigated (or stuck in his mouth) are – whisky (he lapped from a guest’s glass when we were not looking), Iron (It was hissing steam, and he wanted to see what it was. He is now afraid of it.), woven jute mats (he’s systematically ripped them apart, colour by sectional colour), and crap from the waste-paper basket – this could be plastic bags, paper, cardboard pieces, empty medicine packets… I’m still adding to this list.
Oh, I almost forgot – he chews his tail on occassion too!

I could go on and on and bore you for hours with Sparky talk, but the most endearing thing about him is the way he hops up and asks to be carried; and when I do carry him, he nibbles my ear and makes cute puppy noises.
And when I come home, there’s nothing like being welcomed back by this crazy pup – he jumps around me, licks my toes, hops about on his hind legs, makes little puppy noises, nips my fingers and wont stop till my bags are dropped and he’s either nestled in my arms or on my lap. My Little Tribal Dancer.

Watching him fall asleep would fill up another paragraph, but listening to him when he’s having puppy dreams, making puppy sounds with puppy barks, his paws in the air, chasing imaginary cars, is a whole different experience :)

I wonder what he thinks, and I wonder why he trusts and loves us so.
I finally gave in, and I love him completely, despite being allergic to his fur. I don’t know what i’m going to do without him :(

Puppyface

Puppyface

Over the Christmas break, Lorraine and I spent four blissful days in Phuket, on Patong beach, taking in the sun, lying on the sand, snorkeling around the Phi Phi islands, riding around the little town on scooters, shopping and eventually, rafting in another little town, which was 2 hours away from Patong.

I dig my toes into the sand
The ocean looks like a thousand diamonds
Strewn across a blue blanket
I lean against the wind
Pretend that I am weightless
And in this moment I am happy…happy

Pictures were taken at almost every point… Memories etched digitally, never to be forgotten. We sampled the local food and the nightlife – both positively not tame….  And all this while, wistfulness followed me.

I wish you were here
I wish you were here
I wish you were here
I wish you were here

The best part of the break was the comfortable silences shared with Lorraine. It did not matter if we were lying on the sand, or waiting in our room for the rain to stop, watching Law & Order, or poring over maps in the middle of roads – lost, or driving and being driven around for hours on end, or floating weightless in the ocean… Both of us just let the other be, without feeling the need to break into or interrupt the others thoughts… and in that, we were happy. So happy.

I lay my head onto the sand
The sky resembles a back lit canopy
With holes punched in it
I’m counting UFOs
I signal them with my lighter
And in this moment I am happy…happy

Contemplation, much laughter, drunken tears contained in public, snatches of conversation in different time zones, panic at digital deprivation, scribbling in my Moleskine, and finally, closing my eyes and being one with the soothing waves.

I wish you were here
I wish you were here
I wish you were here
Wish you were here

Day 1 on holiday was filled with images of the night before I boarded the plane, sleepless. Day 1 was also the day I discovered that I could sleep in any moving vehicle :) Not even the vigorous Thai massage could keep me awake! Oh, and I spoke in my sleep and woke a very confused Lorraine :)

Daily Rituals – slipping into swim gear, hiding behind impenetrable dark glasses, stepping out minus any gadgets, armed with just a trusty book and a beach towel, my mind filled with memories, images, longing… faint smiles playing across the edges of my mouth, escaping, being replaced by a question-marked forehead. I love and loathe my mind in equal proportion sometimes.  *Sigh*

The world’s a roller coaster
And I am not strapped in
Maybe I should hold with care
But my hands are busy in the air saying:

I wish you were here
I wish you were

I wish you were here
I wish you were here
I wish you were here
Wish you were here

My vacation was perfect! :)

This is my whimsical narration of my trip to Phuket-Dec 2009 with Lorraine.
A detailed travelogue shall soon follow.
I've been on an Incubus trip, thus, the lyrics.

*bliss*

My pensieve and I watch the sun

Christmas makes me unhappy. It wasn’t like this when I was little, though. When I was 8, I still believed in Santa Claus and his elves, and thought that he left me presents in my stocking. I wrote him letters, and lay awake in bed hoping to catch him, but i almost always fell asleep before 12. I never really got what I asked for, but it was ok. No one really ever got what they asked for. Those who did not ask for things also always seemed to get things they didn’t want, and I wasn’t the kind to raise Hell over an unacquired toy.

The next year, I chanced upon my sister stuffing an unwanted present into my stocking, and my little mind raced with questions and overflowed with disappointment. At breakfast, while my little brother was happily tearing away at his loot, I remember saying to my mother, “He does not exist does he? It’s just you.”

Christmases that followed weren’t any different. We made the usual sweets, stuffed and baked the chickens and turkeys, and stirred the giant christmas cake. We skipped to midnight mass like good Catholic people, and came home happy, humming carols and bickering about who would cut the christmas cake.

Things changed. My dad moved to India and it took a while to get used to the idea of him being around. Our lives got complicated, messy, and unhappy. I guess he couldn’t deal with the idea of his family becoming reality, and my mother couldn’t  keep turning a blind eye to his adulterous ways.

Christmas changed.

All I now remember are the numerous times before midnight mass when we’d dress up, and they’d fight; mother reduced to tears, refusing to go to mass anymore. My catholic guilt forced me to go to the service (or else be forever damned in Eternal Hell), and all i’d think of while shivering in the cold, biting, starless night, was how I wish I’d stayed home with her. The caroling was mechanical, and there wasn’t any joy in my world. Or, they’d fight after mass, if and when he’d come home.

Then there were christmases when mother fell terribly ill with the stress. And other christmases when extended family was part of the verbal scuffle, trading insults like they were exchanging presents!

Christmas mornings were silent. Everyone stayed out of everyone else’s way and waited for the damn day to get over, plastic smiles fixed on faces. I stopped doing the church thing, as did my little brother. I remember being snuggled in bed the year after I returned from Bangalore, listening to carols wafting into my room from the service being held nearby and thinking, “Hmmm… I wonder if I should go.” And then thinking, “Naaahhh. And ruin all this blissful blank peace?”

Each year, I now send out cards to those who do believe in Christmas, hoping, I guess, that at some point, i’d be reacquainted with “The Christmas Spirit” because of their belief. For me, Christmas is always going to be a season of stress and painful memories.

I honestly wish I could believe. And I really wish Santa was real.

:(

Just when I thought I had an original idea, the Tiger Woods saga unfolds, fanning my curiosity and killing my creativity… This is obviously neither the first nor the last time that a famous ‘brother’ effed up. But what makes it more interesting than the others is the manner in which it did.

Everyone who’s anyone is taking a dig at him. From David Letterman, SNL, the Tabloids, to certain bloggers with a delusions of being a God-men. Let’s look at the stories that you are least likely to find with a google search…

NAACP organizes a protest march in Stockholm to protest against Swedish women wedding the only eligible African American man. They claim that it is a part of a deeper ‘white’ conspiracy to malign the ‘colored’ people. They referred to the OJ case where a similar conspiracy ended in tragedy. The NAACP also pledged the support of both East and West coast gangstas to bail the Tiger out. The incident, they claimed, was a result of the ‘White’ devil trying to deprive the Tiger of his polygamist urges. 50 Cent, for example, has offered the Tiger a pick from his groupies. His manager said that the 50 Cent girls have “negotiable morals and are trained in the ways of the Candy Shop.”

Meanwhile, The wives of Accenture employees also staged a protest outside their headquarters at Ireland to express their distaste with the company tag-line of, “Go ahead. Be a Tiger.” A troubled wife, on the condition of anonymity told this site: “Since November 29, when the story surfaced, my husband started coming home late. When I confronted him, he said that it was official business. He should thank his stars that neither of us plays golf, and the deck of cards I threw at him didn’t seem to deter him.”

The sporting mega-brand Nike also had to change its tag-line to “Just Do It. Except you, Tiger.” The company spokesperson said that the expenditure to change all advertisements on a global scale could run into millions of dollars. They expect that excluding Tiger from ‘doing’  ‘it’ will salvage their brand till the time their marketing department comes back from their vacations.

The personal products major Gillette, has apologized to all non-blondes. They distanced themselves from Tiger Woods’ choice of blonde women and said that blondes were by no means ‘the best a man can get’. The share-holders meet this weekend to discuss a spin story to counter the offense that billions of non-blonde women across the world have taken.

Meanwhile, I believe that it’s just a case of Tiger unable to deal with his wood. Being a golfer doesn’t justify him making blondes the butt of his drives. The puns keep pouring in, some good, some obscene… Hyacie wouldn’t publish many of what I’ve come up with, so I’ll spare her the trouble of censoring. But I’ll be following this story, and shall keep you posted of any developments.

Till then, Keep Walking. And stay out of the Woods. ;P

This is Guest Post #2 By George ‘The Walker‘ – hyacie.

flies, it does!

February 2010
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constant mewing

the reds, green, blues.

A dehydrated sparky

Son and Father

The red splint

Cloudy stormy sky

Concert in the park

More Photos

lip-smackingly...