Wednesday, August 4

For writers who blog: Respect.

I don't know if this happens to normal people at all but having been a blogger for a while,  I have it happen to me constantly. No matter where I am, who I'm with or what I'm doing, its like there's a device in my head that's constantly transforming my thoughts into words. Erm, like in Stranger than Fiction, if you get my drift? Only, mine is less co-ordinated and more buzz. My point being -- most of my posts are actually written in my head. Of course, you absolutely didn't need to know that. But I thought it might help explain why I forget to actually write any of it down here.

Now, I could use that in lieu of my laziness for not having updated in, well..forever. But I will not. Being a journalist means that I'm accountable for everything. I have people come to me angrily demanding why I'm not doing anything about (i) the Telangana issue (ii) the timings of the trash truck in our colony. (iii) the rising pigeon population the city and their bathroom habits (v) the obnoxiously priced french beans in the market (their lessening greenness and increasing yellowness) (iv) the mousy brownness of the model's hair in a fiama d'wills ad in our paper, among other things. 

Back to my point about updating, I've been busy.  Read: Work - XBOX- friends - movies - art exhibitions - phone calls - writing - crime scenes - plays - books - quarking - shopping - dinners - sleep -press conferences - bowling games - cooking -XBOX.  Yes, very productive life, mine.  

Now to news. Scratch that. The word gives me the creeps. Let's call it `interesting things.' To start with the headlines -- Knowing me and my to-do list, y'all must have already figured there's a bunch of things in there I'm never get around to this year. So I thought I'll get narrow it down to 4.. one for each month left, see? 

Therefore, inspired by the upcoming birthday, when I'll officially become ancient, I began with 2.   The thing about haircuts and me is that there have been instances in the past when I have had, erm, let's call them, lapses of judgement which ended up with me looking like a poodle, a grinch, spock and the kid in the miranda ad respectively. So this time, I took pink panther along. To lend me a little perspective, you understand. Evil little gremlin that she is, she just let me have my way. Of absolutely no help and obsessed with being politically correct, that one is. 

To paint you a picture, I look like an unisex 12 year old.  Oh c'mon, you know what I'm talking about. Remember those embarrassing snaps of you when you were 12. When people couldn't tell between you and your brother because you looked and sounded alike.  That never happened to you? Oh! Then, me neither. I just know second hand, of course, of a girl who lived half her life thinking she looked and sounded like a boy. 

That's my on my good days. So, next time I have a fancy hair cut on my list, just tell me to get a sex change. At least I know what to expect. Did I start with saying "interesting things?"  Get used to it. The headline has nothing to do with the article. Unfortunate side effect of working for the paper that I do. 

Anyhoo, my last day of 21.  Dude! 22 and I haven't even done err.. things. I mean, you know, the things you can't die without doing. Aah, but time is of the essence. I must commence research on the best old age homes around and decide on the plants I'm going to take there. 

Ergo, I take your leave with a few words of the old and the wise. Sleep well, younglings. Preserve your youth. Listen to your mother.  Drink apple vodka. Marry a rich man.  Eat Belgian Chocolate.  Wear Superman underwear.  Do not let the chinese touch your hair.  Watch Big Bang Theory. Get an XBOX. Drink milk.  Get a dog.  Say no to journalism. Befriend a dragon. Smoke only mint lights. Date an Arian. Kill mosquitoes, cats and pigeons. Send nice gifts to friends for their birthday. 

PS: A single birthday resolution, I have.  Update the blog more often, I should.