To Sum Up...

Hey, hey, hey!! Its day #365.25 again and I need to make a worthwhile contribution to this page before the year re-login comes around. How f**kin’ geeky was that?! Re-login…

But, butt, buttttt…. I like big butts and I cannot lie, You other brothers can’t deny, That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist and a round thing in your face, You get sprung!
Hmm… Sir Mix-A-Lot lives still…
No, I don’t really have an ass thing going on. Back on topic, I can’t go out on a ranting note! I never run out of stuff to post, but right now, I’ve got a lot of rants jostling for position, without anyone getting dibs and I don’t want to clutter the holiday season with random rants and ambitions that are, at best, ambiguous. I’ve missed out on a lot of posts of late because I’ve been busy with other, more pressing, commitments. Now that they’re safely out of the way and done with, I’m free, well, relatively free-er anyway, to write again.
Ranting Swede returns, January ’06.

For now, I’m gonna be the good little boy next door everybody expects me to be.
All in all, it’s been an OK year. Nothing too stupendous…quit a job, gained a networking certification, spent loads of cash and finally, added two inches to my waistline. I found that last bit out just last week when my new jeans had to be a size larger than they used to.
New Year’s Resolution #1: Start losing the spare tyre! I never actually make resolutions but since it’s the appropriate time and I’ve decided to try and lose weight, let’s just call it one. And even if I break it, hey, no one actually keeps their resolutions.
Blogwise, hahahahahah… Blogwise… Ok, Blog-wise, this half-year has seen me learn a lot about what I can and cannot do. What I can do is write, no matter what anyone else thinks of it. What I cannot do is just for me to know. Anyhoo, I’ve written a lot and pretty much exceeded my own expectations. Truthfully, when I started this thing I didn’t expect it to last too long because I would actually sit and think of topics to write on, as is evident from my early posts. As the posts piled on, I didn’t have to find topics, the posts were not about topics anymore, just expression. Now I’m happy with what I have, even if nobody much sees it. I am my own worst critic, so there’s always room for improvement.

Alrighty then, its time to turn down the lights, Turn down the bed, Turn down these voices inside my head… I’m ripping off lyrics at lib today!
Enough baloney for today, have some salami too while I’m gone.
Happy New Year folks. Get some drunken debauchery when you can, you’ll never know when it’s your last time.
Have a good one.


Music for the week was heavily influenced by (Ok, blatantly lifted. There, happy?) Almost Heroes. Watch it. Mmmmm, Penny Lane…

Guns ‘N Roses – Welcome To The Jungle
Elton John – Tiny Dancer
Creedence Clearwater Revival – Fortunate Son

Happy for the Holidays

To tell the truth, I don't have a post. I do have something to say, but I haven't the time to say it right now.

I'll get back to that in posts to come, but for now, to one and all, My Best Wishes of the Season.
Have a Very Merry Christmas everyone!! Or as merry as you can manage... or try anyway, you just might get lucky... Hey, it's Christmas.

"God Bless Us everyone!" -- The Late, "Tiny" Tim Cratchit


Cheap Trick - Surrender

Bonus Track (I'm feeling generous!!) : Martika - Toy Soldiers

Where Have All The Flowers Gone?

I hoard. Music, newspapers, ticket stubs, notebooks from school and even pieces of toys from ages ago. For entertainment value, for sentimental value and even sometimes just because I have somewhere to keep them, I keep them. It can't be a good thing and probably isn't, because it shows my propensity to lug the past around behind me.

I tend to forget things rather quickly. Possibly, I was dropped headfirst as a child, something my parents 'neglected to mention'. Maybe that's why I need physical reminders of events past, years gone by...and people. I've often saved emails and text messages to the point where inboxes were brimming full of, what to anyone else would seem a pointless waste of space. I saved them still, never knowing if the next one would be the last, (ok...not paranoia!) so I could read them later and go back to a time that was. Digital limitations eventually won a hard fought battle.
But to me, these have been the important things in my life. They're small things, simple things. Everything that I've saved, or tried to save, associated with a time, story or person I wanted to hold on to.
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, now sans cover and a few pages, puts me at age four, when a beautiful teacher got a classful of fidgety kinderlings to pray for their classfellow, as I underwent surgery.
I open an old box of poster paints tucked away in my cupboard. Among the bottles of paint, a single foot broken off an action figure takes me back to every pre-birthday visit to the toyshop. G.I.Joe was the craze and I wanted them all. The simplicity of the time...a single figure was enough to keep me happy for months. Now, a CD, ten times the cost, can't hold my attention for more than a week.
A simple brown envelope, not yet too old, holds a heart bared open to me in an unsurpassable act of honesty and friendship, even though I let it down. It pains me, but I'll keep it still.

These days I don't have much faith in the future because I don't know how to build it yet. Time is slowly rolling over me like a cannonball. But if I have nothing else, I have reminders of a time when honey was sweeter than money; of people who made my day, everyday; and a lifetime steadily disassociating itself with this one.
"Don't live in the past." it goes; I'm not.
I just want to be able to remember what it was like, when it's time I don't even know what it is anymore.
Constant evolution, everybody's changing.
I'll never know who I'm gonna be tomorrow, but I always need to be reminded of who I was yesterday.


Although my music base has taken a major hit, with the loss of over two gigabytes of awesome singles spanning genres and generations, I do have a song for this week too.
Since it's the week and all, the first AIDS benefit song takes the place of pride.

Dionne Warwick, Stevie Wonder, Elton John and Gladys Knight - That's What Friends Are For

Artsy

This is one I’ve written after a long time. And I’m really happy with it.

If I, had a paintbrush
I’d use it everyday
To fill my life, with more than gray

[interlude]

If I, had a paintbox
Of vibrant colors
Colors for each season
And colors more than every reason
I’d paint over yesterday
What d’you say?

And if I, had a palette
With the colors of my life
I’d substitute
My favorite mood
When things just won’t go right

[interlude]

Colors,
Everyone is more than one.
Defining me, defining you
With each tint and every hue
From shades of deepest night
To early morning streaks of light.
I wish I had a paintbrush
‘Cos life is more than black and white

[interlude]

If I, had a canvas
I’d paint tomorrow
Imagine television on the radio
Pictures formed of words
Sing the sweetest song you’ve ever heard

How I wish I, had a paintbrush
‘Cos life is more than black and white


“And you’re the red in her painting...
because I think, you’re the red in her painting.” – Sean Penn in “I am Sam”

Radiohead – High and Dry

Everybody's Free

If you got here accidentally, Don’t Go Away without reading this:

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ‘99… wear sunscreen.

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience.

I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh never mind; you will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they've faded. But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked.

You are not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4:00 pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing everyday that scares you.

Sing.

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts; don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead; sometimes you’re behind; the race is long, and in the end it’s only with yourself.

Remember compliments you receive; forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters; throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life; the most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives; some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t.

I’m 22!!!

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees; you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry; maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children; maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40; maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either -- your choices are half chance; so are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body; use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance
--even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room.

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do not read beauty magazines; they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents; you never know when they’ll be gone for good. Be nice to your siblings; they're your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go, but for the precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography, in lifestyle, because the older you get the more you need the people you knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard.

Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths: prices will rise; politicians will philander; you too will get old, and when you do you’ll fantasize that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund; maybe you'll have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia: dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it’s worth.

But trust me on the sunscreen.

-- Baz Luhrmann, Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)


I’ve discovered the word audiophile. I think I’ve gone past philia; it’s more like an obsession. I have song lists everywhere; songs I like, songs I want, music I badly need. On my computer, my cell phone, the back pages of notebooks, anywhere I can make a legible impression. One hard disk seems too meager before the mp3. Maybe it’s because I have nothing solid in my life, maybe it’s because I have too much time on my hands or maybe it’s just that I have too much empty space to fill.
One song on one CD four years ago made a difference. Enter AC/DC.

Although I’m cussing when my parents play it, by myself, I kinda like Doo-Wop and the old school stuff. It’s a situation like walking in on your parents while they’re going at it…you wanna tear your eyeballs out to purge the image from your brain. But when you’re bumping nasties, as The Crocodile Hunter would put it... Crikey!
So,

The Ronnettes – Be My Baby

40 and counting

Things hardly anyone, if not noone, knows about me.
Ok, these may also include reasons why no woman would marry me, but I’ve counted 40 so far.

1. I cannot leave a newspaper unfolded along its original creases
2. I’m the personification of procrastination
3. I love an Australian accent
4. I hate chat acronyms
5. Coffee has never kept me up at night
6. Alcohol has
7. I never share cheese
8. I’ve been groped from behind by a newly married woman
9. I’ve abandoned friends
10. I want to write just one great poem
11. I had hoped to have a Mohawk
12. I shall soon be the first bald male in four generations of my family
13. I’ve taught mathematics for a year
14. I’m claustrophobic
15. I have to bungee
16. I hope to die young
17. I’m a bigot
18. I love calligraphy
19. I believe in aliens
20. I don’t believe they’ve visited this planet
21. I’m sadistic when it comes to proving myself right
22. Some days I’ve been too lazy to brush my teeth in the morning
23. I have no innate talent
24. I’m more afraid of bears than any other animal
25. I have to visit Italy, hopefully at least twice
26. I will not eat pasta or pizza there
27. I forget faces very easily
28. I never learned to plan ahead
29. I’m afraid of vast water surfaces
30. I’m also altophobic
31. As a baby, I almost died of diarrhea
32. I’ve beaten children
33. I detest all reptiles
34. I cannot look up into the sky for more than a minute without being overwhelmed by the open space
35. I cannot use a public toilet unless I’m completely alone
36. Misspelling and mispronunciation really annoys me
37. I don’t handle pressure well
38. I’ve been attacked by a blind doctor and a pair of scissors
39. I’ve never been on a rollercoaster
40. Too many dogs have chased me
41. Apparently I’m a Male Chauvinist Pig
42. I can still sing along to most of the Spice Girls’ songs


Additions will be made, with due notification, as and when they come to mind.


Gershon Kingsley – Popcorn

Chinglish Speak

I found this on msn spaces. Its good, so here it is. All credit to the dude who wrote this.

Chinglish Rule: How to count from 1 to 10 with a Chinese accent.

1 day I go 2 climb up a 3 outside a house to peep.
But the couple saw me, so I panic and 4 down.
The man rush out and wanted to 5 with me.
I run until I fall 6 and throw up.
So I go into 7 eleven and grab some 8 to throw at him.
Then I took a 9 and try to stab him.
10 God he run away.
So, I put the 9 back and pay for the 8 and left 7 eleven.
Next day, I call my boss and say I am 6.
He said 5, tomorrow also no need to come back 4 work.
He also asks me to climb a 3 and jump down.
I don't understand, I so nice 2 him but I don't know what he 1.

Life, Love and Generality - 2

Never expect anything. Keep hoping, never expecting. You’ll never give anyone the chance to let you down.

Objects of desire are best left unattained. You’ll never have to find out the awful truth.

Learn from the mistakes of your parents. They teach best when they aren’t aware they’re doing it.

Never give a woman power. Seriously. There is no gender equality; women are just superior even if they don’t look it. Men are simple beings. If a guy messes with a guy, he gets in his face. Women don’t need to mess with you. They have the annoying tendency of getting in your head without trying.

Love is a completely abstract quantity and as such, highly overrated. Sex, on the other hand… People who say sex is overrated are just picking at sour grapes.
Also, hate sex is always good sex! Damn, I’d break up with someone, just for that! Yeah, this is me now…

Freud was absolutely on the money. Everything is Sex and Sex is Everything. Look at your own life and you should have all the proof you need. Otherwise, you’re just…not right.

Every generation thinks that it has reached a previously unimagined pinnacle, only to be proved wrong by the next. Eat constant evolution.

Moral fiber is a relative term. It ain’t about being honest so you can end up in Heaven. It’s about doing whatever’s necessary to do right by the important people in your life, even if it means ending up in Hell.

Heaven and Hell are right here on earth.

Damn that Murphy and his motherfcuking law! Murphy definitely rules Hell!!

If you have time to think before you die, you’ll realize that you’re in the most serenely peaceful moments of your entire life. Now that’s worth living for.


Notice that I’ve started a Song-of-the-Week in each post of late. Not a song that I’m listening to right now, not something that influenced what I’ve written but just something that I choose to listen to more than others.

Read Part 1 of this series: Link

Low Millions – Eleanor

The Real Deal

Notice how I disappear so easily these days? No, I haven’t been any busier… haven’t been any lazier either. Haven’t watched any movies, haven’t gone out a lot, haven’t been studying too much, haven’t been sleeping too much, just where have I been?
I’ve been right here, but probably still far, far away. Limbo, it is. Not here and yet, not there. Detachment through lack of accomplishment, it is.

I haven’t been idle; I’ve written 23/25th of a song and about half of a poem, but I abandoned both just as I was readying them for unveiling. Where does the enthusiasm go?
I began the song in beautiful flow…lyrics gyrating forth obscenely like concubines onto the harem floor that was my paper. The next morning I took a look at it and…naaah.
The poem: my first serious attempt at poetry (not rhyme) since I was 6 or 8 or something like that. It started strong, verse with meaning, read-between-the-lines stuff. Next morning…naaah. “Too juvenile.” I say. Ok, it was titled Vampiric Fantasy, but don’t read too much into that.

But, that’s all. I get no joy from this anymore. There are times when the urge to write is just so compelling, but I pick up the pen and…nothing. Not a word emerges and on the off chance that ink does flow, more likely than not, it’ll just end badly like the fruit of my three weeks past. What I’ve labeled as my ‘Songs’ aren’t really songs at all; I just want them to be. They’ve got lyrics but then, who doesn’t, huh? No, they just rhyme nicely and that’s about it. You couldn’t even call them poetry. And poetry? Who am I to delve the depths of profundity? Mindless profundity at that! Time to ‘fess up Rocky…I can’t really write.
I haven’t written anything mildly interesting lately and I don’t think I could be the columnist type, with a finger in everything and Bush jokes spewing out my butt crack. See…unfettered crassness gets me nowhere.

Everybody has a gimmick, an angle. I thought writing was my thing. Guess I was wrong. I have nothing left. At this rate I should just dress like a tree and stand by the road. That should complete the picture of invisibility.
But hey, I didn’t say I was going anywhere; Freedom of Speech and all that jazz…even if I can’t write well, I can still write. So keep suffering my onslaught, for I’m nevergone…
Hah! Take that Backstreet Boys!!


The most terrifying thought I’ve had lately is this: The only way I can get anywhere in my life is if I stop trying to enjoy it.
I’m so afraid this might be true.


The Who – Baba O’Reilly

Seasonal Spirit

If you’re a Christian and maybe even if you aren’t, chances are, at least one of your happy childhood memories will involve Christmas. Now I’m not much of a Christian, in fact the only reason that I put down “Christianity” in the blank space after “Religion: ” is because its what my parents practise. If things were left to me…well that’s a discussion for another day.
Anyway, as I was saying, kid memories of Christmas. I remember how cool it felt when I was cast as King Herod in the school nativity play. Herod’s the only guy who’s sitting comfortably, in no less than a throne, mind you. And he gets to gesture majestically and generally look down on everyone else. Hey, even Jesus didn’t get to do that!
It’s a different matter that I was a shepherd the next year.

The carols were actually what would get me excited about Christmas. I guess it’s the same for every kid. Even if I knew Christmas was two weeks away, I didn’t feel it till I heard the music. I loved Jim Reeves’ “Twelve Songs of Christmas” but the folks insisted on playing Boney M’s Christmas album. Whatever it was, it brought a warm and fuzzy feeling with it and for nigh on three weeks no one got tired of the same old songs everyday.

That was like a lifetime ago.

Over the years Mr. Reeves crawled into the back of a dusty drawer with Boney M in hot pursuit. They were replaced by some Goan crap and my enthusiasm went out the window. But that wasn’t the reason why I stopped waiting for December, why I stopped fighting for a chance to decorate the tree, why I didn’t care about the presents anymore. After Christmas came the two weeks’ refractory period which included the momentary high and low of New Year’s Eve followed by New Year’s Day. Then came the rest of January, when people began to go back to their real selves and warm and fuzzy left on vacation. As soon as I concluded that Christmas was just an excuse for people to indulge themselves, all sentiment was lost. “Hey, it’s Christmas!” could be an excuse for anything from bumming cash off a friend to extra servings of a cholesterol filled dinner to a quickie right after church. And all the while people try and walk the roads with a serene air as if they’ve temporarily found inner peace. (Except when they’re doing last minute shopping) So where does the serenity go during the rest of the year? Why aren’t people just as nice and neighborly, February through November?

Now I begin to cringe around the second week of the twelfth month of every year as I feel the almost mandatory air of cheesy seasonal cheer set in around me. I can still stand some of the songs, but only some. So now the month is just cold, the holiday has grown old and I can’t remember a recent December when I haven’t been bitter on the inside.


On a related topic, I can’t stand it when I read, or worse, hear the word “Xmas”. Why doesn’t anyone have the time to use a slightly longer syllable in “Christmas”? It’s the correct word! Recently I found out that “X” was actually used as a symbol for Christ in some old times. I will not even consider the possibility that the average syllable slicer is aware of this, so I will just continue to be pissed off at every one of them.


One tequila, Two tequila, Three tequila, Floor

Fiona Apple – Across the Universe

Endure, we must all

“I’m a silly flower trying to live my life in rhyme
While the wind takes the years, one silly petal at a time.”
- B. J. A.

The answer my friend, is blowing in the wind.
Bob Dylan got it so right. This is the most honest response to all of life’s questions.
Yeah, I’m here again. Amid a recession, during which I contemplated dumping this blog because over-expression was trivializing my pursuit for enlightenment through self expression, it seems I was able to come up with something of apparent quality to the observer. Though this occurrence of note was definitely pleasing, everything I’ve written so far is dear to me, whether an outlet for creative spirit or emotional venting. (I try not to do it here…) However, they may not hold up in the bigger picture.
So, creativity or venting, whichever the case, whenever, shall henceforth be restricted so as to ensure a meaningful utilization of time and space. (My time and web space, that is)
Of course there may be slight and infrequent interspersions of informative/comic relief to break the monotony, should it decide to jump into the frame.
Thus shall I perdure.

And while I’m writing this… damn, I hate that Sponge Bob!!
Advice for physical well being : rarely regard a repugnant pugilist.

Van Halen – Right Now

Skin Deep

I don’t know why the second verse has slight religious references... It’s just how it is.

You look like an angel
But you sin like a whore
At the end of the night
I’m still wanting you more
When we’re together
The room is on fire
The lower we go
You’re taking me higher

But when the games are done
The clouds blow over the sun
And I’m crying girl but it’s not for you
I close my eyes and I find
Its not you in the eye of my mind
And my heart is screaming the truth
It makes me feel so damn cheap
Baby our love is only skin deep

You got me in a spell
Your body is talking to me
In the language born in Eden
Like the tempter in the tree
Our souls are poles apart
But passion has joined our fates
Enjoy it while it lasts
We won’t make the Pearly Gates…

But when the games are done
The clouds blow over the sun
And I’m crying girl but it’s not for you
I close my eyes and I find
Its not you in the eye of my mind
And my heart is screaming the truth
It makes me feel so damn cheap
Baby our love is only skin deep

Addictive, delicious
It’s mostly suspicious
You’re like a blackened widow
But you’re not in my head
You’re only queen of my bed
It’s about time you had to go

Honey, you’re no Juliet
Sure I’m not Romeo
Before you make plans, I don’t think I’m your man
Just thought its right you should know

When the games are done
Clouds cover the sun
And the crying that I do ain’t for you
I close my eyes and I find
Its not you in my mind
And my heart is screaming the truth
It makes me feel like such a creep
Baby our love is only skin deep

Suddenly

This one was written while I had “Imagine” on my mind. (No offence to the Genius of John Lennon) I think the song’s rhythmic influence shows up in parts. Now, though Imagine was supposed to be edged with Lennon’s cynicism, that didn’t carry through to here.


Its almost May, still no flowers
Suddenly, April showers
Father and son, hand in hand
Suddenly, son’s a man
Walking alone, counting the miles
Suddenly, a stranger smiles
Searching for hope to see me through
Suddenly, I think of you…

Suddenly, makes the truth into a lie
Suddenly, you wanna laugh while you cry
Suddenly, your chance is knocking on your door
Suddenly, it doesn’t matter anymore…


Sleepless nights, smothered in doubt
Suddenly, stars come out
Drunken barfly, flowing sorrow
Suddenly, there’s tomorrow
A long way to go, no rest in sight
Suddenly, guiding light
Searching for treasure I never find
Suddenly, you’re on my mind…

Suddenly, makes the truth into a lie
Suddenly, you wanna laugh while you cry
Suddenly, chance a knockin’ on your door
Suddenly, it doesn’t matter anymore…


Reality hits like a bolt in the dark
A match in the rain, I'm searching for my spark
I’ve lost the friends I haven’t yet met
Walls crashing down, bricks of regret
I started slow but now I know… Suddenly.



Co-incidentally, while posting this I’m listening to “Live and let die”, originally performed by Lennon’s once upon a time band mate, Paul McCartney.
Alright, now my last 4 posts have all been songs…I’m not sure if they’re so good, but I know my lyrical quality has definitely improved since I started. Anyway, next time, no song. Just me, back again.


Link: John Lennon and The Beatles

Link: Get IMAGINE

Link: My First Take

Live it while it lasts

This was inspired by Aerosmith…
It was supposed to be my first rock song but I’m not sure how its turned out.


I’m on a road so lonely
I started out so boldly
Those days are gone…
Lost in the dust behind me.
I know I have been headstrong
I’m lost, what did I do wrong?
Forgive me…

Give me one good chance, gimme one last ride
I’m playin’ for my sanity, playin’ for my pride
I’ll be going for the gold, never breaking my stride
Yeaeaeaeaeaeaeaeah…

Sing for the moment, sing for the winner
Sing for the saint when you sing for the sinner
Dream for your future while you’re running from your past
Dream, you can do anything; just live it while it lasts.


I wanted to win only
I faced the heat so coldly
Those days are gone…
I’ve lost them all behind me.
Imprisoned by my own fate
Too little help comes too late
Release me…

Give me one good chance, gimme one last ride
I’m playin’ for my sanity, playin’ for my pride
I’ll be going for the gold, never breaking my stride
Yeaeaeaeaeaeaeaeah…

Sing for the moment, sing for the winner
Sing for the saint when you sing for the sinner
Dream for your future while you’re running from your past
Dream, you can do anything; just live it while it lasts.


Silent prayers without an answer
Can keep us from forgiving
But we don’t need no lies to hide us
In the dreamland that we’re livin’.
So take your box of cigarettes
Climb up the bridge and fling it
‘Cos when you dream you have a life
All you gotta do is…
Sing it!

Sing for the moment, sing for the winner
Sing for the saint when you sing for the sinner
Dream for your future while you’re running from your past
Dream, you can do anything; just live it while it lasts.

It’s gotta last

Make it last

Just live it while it lasts.



Link: Aerosmith

Mr. Jones

This is different style from anything else I've written so far. I think it might do good with a swing band and Robbie Williams...?


Mr. Jones just flew in
The man who knows how to win
There he is in a Versace suit
He's a handsome young fox
Thinking outside the box
And a millionaire playboy to boot
He's Mr. Jones!

He minds his Q's and his P's
A Tiger out on the tees
And a hotshot when he's got a cue
Smoking Cuban cigars
Driving fast fancy cars
Shaking more than a cocktail or two
The, Mr. Jones!

Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones
How do you get around?
With your money loaded pockets
You're still two feet off the ground

With a wink and a smile
You'll fall prey to his wile
He'll undress you and you wouldn't know
With his hand up your skirt
He's no ordinary flirt
9 '0 clock and its time to go
Please, Mr. Jones!

He's a dangerous lover
Working under the covers
He's the master of all things obscene
Better than all the rest
When it comes to the test
He could end up seducing the Queen
Oh, Mr. Jones!

Mr. Jones, Mr. Jones
How do you learn your tricks?
With your velvet pickup lines
You're a favorite with the chicks

All the fellas
They're so jealous
Of life in the super fast lane
He knows he's the best
He owns the keys to success
And he never runs out of champagne
That's Mr. Jones!


And here's the more well known 'Mr. Jones' by Counting Crows.

Swansong

I try to call you all day
But you don’t answer your phone
I need to tell you today
If only you were at home
My day has turned into night
The way that we’ve grown apart
Darkness determined to kill
Just like a stake through the heart
So I talk to myself
I gotta do this just right
But then I’m falling apart
And by the end of the night
I’ve hardly slept in my bed
And all the medicine’s gone
I stumble holding my head
Until I fall by the phone
I’m trying to call out to you
By now I can’t hardly speak
And then I know that I’m dying
I feel the cold grab my feet
It’s getting harder to breathe
I hear old Grim start to knock
And when I’m ready to leave
You turn the key in the lock
I can see you’ve been crying
Your face is swollen and sore
And then I hate that I’m dying
Don’t wanna hurt you no more
I see the fear in your eyes
As you open the door
And then the crash of your bags
And then you’re there on the floor
Before you cry out to me
My tears could cry out the tale
They say I murdered myself
I never wanted to fail
But then I murdered you too
I took your chance for a life
I’ve just killed all of your dreams
Stabbed them all with a knife
Now all I see is your face
Green eyes I love and I know
And they’re the last sight I see
Just as I feel myself go

Why do you look at me?

I’ve written slightly soppy stuff for a change, but I like the feel of it.


How do you start to be sorry?
Where do you draw the line?
Why do you always pretend
When you tell me your life is fine?
Will I see a real reaction?
When will enough be too much?
Although you know you’re just a deal to me,
You never shrink from my touch.

You give and you give
But you don’t ever hurt,
I grab and I run
While you lie in the dirt.
As long as you love me
You’ll never be free…
Why do you even look at me?

I can feel your lips, how they tremble,
I only hurt you with each kiss.
I can see you cry with every goodbye,
What did you do to deserve this?
My pillow’s cold when you awaken
When you need me close I’ll be away,
I’m never there to hold you when it’s dark
But you pray for real love one day.

You give and you give
But you don’t ever hurt,
I grab and I run
While you lie in the dirt.
As long as you love me
You’ll never be free…
Why do you even look at me?

Silence is a killer.
Don’t become another victim.
I don’t love you, I’m using you.
Why do you look at me?
Just, Stop.

Romance has no real meaning
I can’t hear the songs anymore.
You’ve lost the lover I used to be
And you’ll always be a whore.
Don’t you know the end has come?
Don’t waste sweet tears in crying.
I will always let you down,
I will leave you dying.

You give and you give
But you don’t ever hurt,
I grab and I run.
I leave you lying in the dirt.
As long as you love me,
You can never be free.
I needed you once, but no more…
Why do you still look at me?

Taking down the Fourth Estate

India, my homeland. Maybe it wasn’t for my forefathers, but it is the land of my birth and continued existence. And unless I’m declared dangerous to the population, it’ll likely see my death too. It’s not the best land, with its poverty, illiteracy, unemployment, disease and the occasional natural and/or unnatural calamity, but it’s not a bad land.
We’ve now completed 58 years of freedom from British Rule, the acquisition of which, considering the manner in which it was done, remains a feat in itself. India has more universities than any single country in the world, producing leading minds in research, economics and technology. India has recently asserted its nuclear capabilities, the stock exchange has been scaling unprecedented heights of late and, well theoretically anyway, we have a champion cricket team.
Hmm…maybe we are developing after all.
But every time I begin to feel the slightest swell of national pride, this country never fails to stomp it out and piss me off. The aforementioned plagues of this land have been covered so many times that it’s not worth even going there.
The latest “step forward” I’ve heard of on the news is the censorship of printed media… After film and television have been well sanitized “so as not to affect the viewers’ sensibilities”, the printed word remained the last bastion of mostly free speech. Now they’re threatening to storm that fort too.

I know press censorship isn’t anything new anywhere in the world. Censoring for government control and political reasons isn’t unheard of. But here the argument seems to be that parents need to be able to control what their children read. The focus would be mainly on “sexual content”, which is not a big surprise. Oh please! When was the last time you saw a nude centerfold in a newspaper? Or “Ten sex tips to drive your man wild”? Understandably, every country ergo every culture has its own mores and limits of tolerance. But there has to be some reasonable logic to it.
Censoring films and television is acceptable to an extent. They are, for the most part, fiction and can afford a few less cherries on the cake. But dropping articles from newspapers so your kid doesn’t ask awkward questions is just crossing too many lines. Until now the printed media has enjoyed the freedom to call spade a spade, while every other medium of mass communication has held its tongue. Take that away and you’re left with nothing but veiled words and winks.
Children are gonna grow up in a world filled with too many Parental Guidance tags. Newspapers will miss their big scoop the next time a celebrity loses her top because Junior gets curious when he sees the word nipple.
And that’s not all, what about the people who actually read the paper? Yeah, that’s right, the adults. We need the occasional tabloid trash to spice up our day. All we’re gonna have left is the little league version of the daily blah; hardly something worth wasting a perfectly good cup of coffee on.

Show thyself !

I’ve been meaning for some time now to talk about some stops I made while wandering the web. Interesting sites – interesting to me, anyway – with more to offer than is immediately apparent. But… I dunno… maybe it’s this dreary atmosphere, what with the rains back again (H2 Oh No!), that keeps me from unleashing (!) my creative outbursts on some well intended but unwitting domain. Adding to that, Winamp seems intent on Britney Spears today. Cap it off with a shitty space bar on my keyboard and it paints a very sorry picture. Herewego, wait,no, backagain… Bang! Bang! I’ll gladly hit you one more time, baby… Smash! Why doesn’t this thing just break so I can get a new one? Maybe the cat should take a whizz on it… Maybe it already did! Crap…
I just wanna say at this point, that this is shaping up to be probably my worst post to date. No, I’m quite sure of it, but I just wanted to put something here to christen the new look.
Oh yes, just remembered something I can rant about! I am the Ranting Swede! Except that I'm not really Swedish...
I’ve been checking out a lot of other blogs lately, ‘cos being a newbie and all, I wanted to see what people are talking about. And surprisingly, I do sometimes get tired of talking about myself! Here’s what I don’t get. There are plenty of people out there who use their space as a simple diary to log their daily drama. (Or lack of it) Fine, if you wanna check what you did forty seven days ago, that’s your beeswax. But what’s with the signing in and out… “Bye for now!” Or “Seeya next time…” or “Byee!” (with the Smileys!) Who is this target audience? And don’t miss the big “Hi!” or “Hey, it’s me again!”
Yeah and I was expecting Dustin Hoffman…
Okay, so you keep a diary, it’s your personal account, your day, the events that shaped it, what a tramp your neighbor is, how your guy/girl isn’t putting out… whatever.
1. Its called the World Wide Web
2. Do you really have to tell All That to the World Wide Web?

Alright, when I started this, I too thought it would be a nice little cove where I could say what I want and keep all my daily doings. Well, I’m damn well saying what I want but I’m keeping my daily doings out of it. The internet has enough space wasted on useless trifles without being further polluted by what is ironically ‘nothing’. If you have something to say, spit it out. But don’t just keep spraying it without actually saying anything at all. True, everybody has a right to be heard…but you gotta say something first.
It’s exhibitionism- the essence. Exhibitionists aren’t just those dare to bare types, y’know, the ones who’ll flash a passing bus for no good reason, or strip down on what is clearly not a nudist beach, or the streakers who run out during the biggest game of the season, compelling millions of unwary strangers to bask in the glory of their unsheathed unmentionables. There’s an exhibitionist and a voyeur in everyone, one fulfilling the desire of the other. And for every individual bold enough to put on even the tiniest show, there’ll be plenty queuing for dress circle seats.
Peeping through shower curtains and keyholes is passé. Now it’s about getting into people’s minds and into their lives. That’s why Reality TV rules, isn’t it?

Day One

This place seems to be nothing short of an unending spout of my seemingly endless outpourings on my seemingly useless quest for definition.
Well today I stop. No more excuses, no more trying to explain me and my idiosyncrasies. Take it or leave it. This is me, straight up, lump it.
Why the apparent turn around? Television. Finally I’ve witnessed eye opening TV and it was gratifying to know that for once, I had more than just a faint idea of what she was talking about, ‘cos that was exactly my life! Just without the trailer park.
You can’t go through life without the unrelenting pressure on your back. It starts with parents, your siblings, friends, teachers, your boss, new friends, colleagues, your girlfriend, the wife, the in-laws, children, the other woman you’re seeing, the kids’ education, old friends, home loans, it doesn’t end. What does matter, is the path you take so it doesn’t swallow you. You can either go from day to day bearing the burden while constantly trying to justify yourself to everyone who points a finger at you, and there’re lots of them, or you can stop; instead of striving for definition while towing the line, make your own rules. Every time I’ve tried to justify myself, I noticed that it changed slightly since the last time. Which led me to clarity. For some people, there is no definition, just gray lines of text that you have to read between to get a fuzzy look at the core. So in the end, all the attempts to reverse the pointing fingers have been exercises in futility, ‘cos they all add up to a big fat nothing.
It’s been all around me, in every movie I've liked, in my choice of music, my choice of food, my clothes, the drinks I favor, my role models, even down to my favorite car. I’ve just never been able to put my finger down on it because I’ve been too busy with the D word. It’s taken me this long to figure out that the simplest way to define me is, don’t.
Living free from the mundane is what sets the people I admire apart from the others. It’s the something I’ve wondered about for so many hours, which makes the difference between a loser and a non-loser. What is a non-loser anyway? Just a winner who hasn’t won yet. And to win, you just need to make yourself happy, not the world. Don’t get me wrong, I’m 100% grateful every single day for everything I’m getting from my parents and I will give back whenever the time comes. But bottomline, I have a life to live.
I’m a slacker, openly. I have been and always will be, don’t think I can change that. But why I will eventually have my cake and eat it too is because I’m accepting my slackness and I’m willing to make the best I can of it. I’m not alone here, there’s an entire generation out there living the same deal as me. Intelligent youth, blessed with education and opportunity, who choose not to jump through the hoop just to go with the system. I choose to settle for apparent mediocrity so that I can achieve my own envisionment of excellence. Once I get there, I’ll be happy irrespective of what anyone else thinks, because, quite simply, it won’t matter.
Friend tells me that I take on a fake persona in public, hiding the real me; and I’ve spent time trying to convince him otherwise. No need to guess, WRONG! We all have that face we need to put on before we show ourselves to “somebody”. The same somebody who puts that pressure on our already laden shoulders. Well, I’m gonna try and shed that skin ‘cos I’m tired of biding my time and hiding. The way I’m headed, I know I'll never fit the description of having made it big, but at least this is the first step to knowing that I will be happy. And every day that I’m happy, I’m a winner again.
I’ve spent the last 22 years making myself into what I am today. That’s a joke! I haven’t a clue. A graduate? Yeah, right. I don’t know what I am today. This is a statement I could well make every day for the rest of my life without it ever being false, because there is no definite me, nor will there ever be.
You think this is nothing but a stereotypical sorry excuse from a Gen Y lazy sonofabitch? Go ahead, take your shot. I won’t hold it against you; you have your opinion and I have my way.
Life never settles down so you can sit back and admire what you are on a particular day. Life and everything in it, is always just a work in progress, nothing more, nothing less.
Everyday is a beginning. Today is Day One.
Tomorrow is Day One. And the day after that and the day after that.

Chronicle

The work that follows is not mine. It's something I came across somewhere, long ago and saved on my computer. Apparently I thought it was worth it, since I'd saved it to a disk and reloaded it after I got a new hard drive put in. Why did I think it was important enough? Because it was sincere. I don't approve of cheap chronicling of daily events in a diary... cribbing about how unfair someone at school is or how your favorite goldfish died. I like this little paragraph here because it has sensible sentiment. No crying over hurt, no cursing lost love, but just simple putting feeling into words. And, it kinda reminded me of what I did once upon a time when I was badly let down. Enough of me, read what the dude has to say.

Love?? It is the greatest thing in the world. Without it there is nothing worth living for. Whether you find love in your job, your family, a hobby, or a companion, it is the greatest thing ever. Yes, it does hurt, even more than it feels wonderful. But, you have to realize that the positive side of love outweighs the negative side of love by far. I am 24 and I am going to be 25 this coming 08/29/04. I met my fiance on 09/06/03 on a Saturday night. It was a blind date set up by my best friend and his fiance. I didn't know what to expect. I wasn't looking for that one special person, but just to have fun that night. Well, I kept on seeing her and let her know that I wanted to be with her exclusively. We fell in love. She was so beautiful the first night I met her. I fell in love with her beauty, her smile, her personality, and her laughter. We have so much in common. Well, I asked her to marry me almost 2 months later on 10/30/03, the night before Halloween. We had our mountains to climb and most times it looked like we weren't going to make it over. Well, it looks like I am stuck in between love and reality. On tonight, 06/18/04 we got in a fight because she has a problem with controlling her alcohol. Now, she doesn't want to be with me and I can't tell if it is the alcohol or her true feelings. Love hurts. She makes my world go around. I am not sure if I will go to Heaven or not. I love God and I might not do the right things here with my time on Earth, but I love Shannon E. McGrory and I will always love her. We are supposed to get married in 11 weeks on 08/28/04 the day before my birthday. Everything is set and paid for. But, she told me tonight she doesn't want to marry me. I got frustrated with her tonight and I said something I shouldn't because she was getting out of control. I called her a whore. I didn't mean it but I am a guy with a lot of testosterone and it came out. I apologized immediately but she took it to heart and ran with it and said she doesn't want to marry me. She was drunk and this wasn't the first time that alcohol has caused us pain. I don't know what is going to happen when she wakes up. Will she stick with what she remembers and think I was a jerk and say she doesn't want to marry me or will she hug me and will we forgive each other? I don't know. That is what hurts. Waiting to see your dreams and hopes to be crushed or fulfilled. I don't love her because she is beautiful or because her body is unbelievable to my eye and heart. I don't love her because she loves me. I love her because of the little things I do for her and she does for me. The first night we were together on our blind date she was driving and we were a little shy and weren't talking to each other and she lightened the mood and gave me a wet willy. (lick your finger and stick it in someone's ear.) This would gross some people out but it made my heart melt. She touched my heart and didn't even know it. When she calls me baby or when she thinks about me or when she hugs me or when she looks at me like she could just wrap her whole body around me. Yes, we make love all the time and we are very sexual. But, those are only extra things. Every normal guy can take that to the extreme and make the girl feel like that is all we want, but that is a guy thing and you just have to understand that and realize where we are coming from. I just can't keep my hands off of her. I have never cheated on her nor put myself in the position to cheat on her and I could never cheat on her. I feel so bad for calling her a whore. I was mad and frustrated and that is what popped out of my mouth. I would take it back if I could. I can't live with out her. I only want to make her happy and if that is being without me then she shall have that. I hold her way above me. Yes, you should love yourself first before you love someone else. I do love myself. I have accomplished so much that some guys would dream of. I played highschool ball and took the team to the state tournament and I hit the winning basket and I got a full ride to a Div 2 basketball school here in Memphis and I am in great shape and health. I have a decent job now and I will get my MBA. But, none of that doesn't mean anything without Shannon. I would take all of that off of my resume of life just to have her back and marry her. The whole point of this is that you asked, "How do you know when you truly love someone?" Well, you truly love someone when you can let them go and let them be happy. It sucks because most of the time the other one that you love decides to do that. But, one kiss of that person, one touch, one hug, one whisper in your ear, means an eternity of love. You may not have them in your arms every night but your memories are there forever. You have to love more than the pain. I can't move on. I have chosen my true love and she has chosen me. Now that I know who my love is I can't love another. Sure, if Shannon decides not to be with me, she will see someone else down the road and maybe I will too, but at night I will only think of her and her breath and her touch and her beautiful voice. I am not weird nor pathetic nor a psychopath. I am in love. She is the love of my life and I will not stop till she doesn't want to come back. I make mistakes and I forgive her of hers, but I know I can't be treated like a dog and keep waiting for her to come back. But it is my choice to fight it out to the end and if I don't fight at all and give up, then I have lost no matter what. I will die trying and suffer by just not doing anything. I would rather die than suffer. I know this is long and you might be mad at me because I didn't answer your question. Just love that person. Love is 80% true love, 10% faith, and 10% commitment. Just because you are in love with someone doesn't mean that it is going to be easy. Jesus had to suffer just to give us an eternity of life and forgiveness. We all fall short of our goal but it is the commitment and heart that keeps us straight. Love that person and you will have your fights and differences, but just don't ever forget that it is part of life and you really love that person. Don't let big things ruin your love, because it is the little things that keep it strong.

Midnight Musings

Lying in bed, late at night,
I realize how my life's not right.
It's not an ideal situation,
Bordering right on desperation.

I've changed my mind so many times,

If I count them in cents, I'd have a million dimes...
Too many people to please,
So many paths to follow,
Just for once,
I wanna live like there's no tomorrow.
But alas, I know, that can never be
For tomorrow comes, inspite of me.
Another start to another day,
The end of which, might hear me say
"Tomorrow I'm gonna start anew,
Gonna settle down to what I need to do!"
But I'll know I'm telling myself a lie,
'Cos you bite the dust when you aim too high.

I know I got a request for more cheerful posts since the last one, but I can't help it, it's the mood holding sway right now...

I'd made a plan of what I needed to do with my life months ago, in fact, it's what made me quit my comfy job. But since then, something's held me back from getting on with it. I can't really explain what it is, but I know from past experience that when it tugs at me, I shouldn't ignore it... In this case, I don't know if it's the same 'something' I know or if it's just the hesitance before stepping out into the unknown. Whatever the reason, I don't have the balls to tell it to anyone who asks, because I'm afraid I'm starting to let them all down.

Monologue

Here's a little ditty I wrote for my friends on the msn group that I used to manage. Thought I'd share it here too.

.

Attention please, y'all dudes and dudettes, y'all prudes and prudettes,
Something's goin' down, it ain't a new show but you just gotta know,
if things don't happen you can get up and go.
This used to be the field where the players play, goin' on everyday
about feelin' good in life, beating strife on the edge of a knife.
Somehow one day things went astray... now who's gonna play?
Take my advice, I don't need it, you gotta feel it
in your bones, the stepping stones to success can put you to the test
and leave you cleaning up your own mess.
So grab your pie while you still can, it's gonna be every man
or woman for themselves when it comes down to the wire,
trial by fire is always met alone.
You can't go home, once you step out,
there's always a doubt if you can ever make it on your own.

When you gotta say, you just gotta say,
I hardly pray 'cos I know I make my day
as good or bad as it will be, it's all about me
and the money, honey. Thats what it's down to eventually;
Do you have the green moolah making machine?
Can't hold back the years, before you realize your fears
you better get up and start to make it, learn to take it
on the chin with a smile, while you walk the last lonely mile
towards your destiny or fate.
And finally, when your time is through, any dream will do
for you, as colors fade into darkness you start to think less
of yourself, 'cos if you don't live for something, you die for nothing.

So get off your asses, media-swayed masses, don't be like me,
you need to break free into the blue, like the dawn of day
with the music playin', but not sayin' the name of the man,
beejay.

Out.

Silence is not a precious metal

Yup, we’re still on the subject of Friends. Lately I’ve had to say goodbye to a few friends, some really close to my heart. It’s been difficult to accept the reality that I didn’t know if I’d ever see them again. Like many others before them, they’ve left for the US in pursuit of a ‘higher’ education. Now, I have no decisive plan for my future as yet, so I admire them for having direction in their lives.
The strange thing is, I had the least to say in terms of Goodbye, to the friends I valued most. Calling them or being there physically didn’t matter; I couldn’t bring up much at all. I wondered if this was due to my apparent fear of open emotiveness (if that is even a word) or was it just me being me, freezing at the time of trial. It couldn’t be the first; after all, these were my friends, to whom I told everything. It couldn’t be the second…after all, these were my friends with whom I was most comfortable.
The answer came to me as I lay in bed at night, pondering my inability to express myself to the people I cared about... These were not my friends.
How do you put ‘friendship’ into words? Easy enough, check your nearest dictionary for a nice juicy meaning, complete with synonyms. How do you put ‘more than friendship’ into words? Webster, Roget and Co. are stumped too. These weren’t my friends, these were my best friends. When friendship transcends mere pleasantry, gifts and companionship and enters the realm of ‘Together till the End’ that’s when words fail you. Although ‘together’ here may not connote ‘together’ in a physical sense, I think my point can be well enough understood.
I normally NEVER use extremisms like the one above, ‘World’s Best Dad’ and so on, but in this case the context is perfect.
I know that the possibility I may never speak to them face to face again is a very real one, since we’re only beginning our journey into life and there many roads to be travelled. But, I will still, always, count them as my best friends, because I know that no amount of eloquence or simplicity will enable me to explain to them the impact they’ve had on my life and how much they mean to me.

Phenomenon

Friends, the sitcom probably familiar, at least vaguely, to most of the educated world. “What strangeness is this, what manner of witchery?” Something that can so easily endear itself to the hearts of millions. Ranging from passion for some, to obsession for others, Friends has marked its place as a television Hall-of -Famer.
Although I’m a fan of the show, I’ve never fully comprehended its magnitude until very recently. Now, in India we’re obviously off the NBC, CBS, ABC, LMNOP and whatever, radar, so what we get are reruns. Lots of reruns. So, one evening at dinner, (or supper, whatever…) Friends is on, Mom is at the dinner table, facing away, and I’m on the couch. Five minutes into the show, she suddenly looks around and says, “Oh, this is the one about Phoebe’s grandmother’s cookies!” What strangeness is this? What manner of witchery? This from a woman who was dining peacefully, apparently oblivious to the charms of the TV… In any case, I don’t recall an occasion when I’ve actually seen her watch a complete episode. What then, was it about the show, that imprinted itself so quickly in the mind of a mere observer?
I remember when I started watching. I was maybe, 16, refusing to get out of bed at 7 in the evening, while complaining of a stomach-ache. Mom dragged me out and sat me in front of the TV. “Here,” she said, “Take your mind off it.” Flipping through channels, I came across Friends after a bit. Now, at the time, this was a fairly ‘new’ show on Indian television, so I stopped to take a look. It was the ‘ballpark’ episode, where Richard and Monica count how many ex-lovers each has had. I haven’t stopped watching since. Season 9 has been rerun, I dunno how many times, but I haven’t stopped yet, even though season 10 is long gone.
Friends has its critics too, even on the show! No, I’m not gonna repeat what they’ve said…look it up. But I’ll always be a fan. Can’t really put my finger on what I like about it, though… the somewhat cheesy comedy of Joey, the obsessive Monica, ditzy Phoebe, “Dunno what I want” Rachel, awkwardly sweet Ross… or is it the satirical funnyman Chandler?
The reason, I guess, lies in looking at ourselves. There are six central characters, but each is multifaceted so that we all see a part of ourselves in one, if not more of them. Narcissistic as we monkeys are, we’re drawn towards ourselves. It’s nice to see ordinary people just like us, doing stuff we’d do too. Although I doubt that many of us would run through the streets chasing a bus, while carrying a baby carriage…
Strange though, how Mom figured in my first as well my most recent revelatory brush with friends… Of course, this is the same Mom who starts movin’ to Eminem’s Without Me and is a fan of Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger. Go figure.

Authors note: I kinda fancy myself as a cross between Chandler and Ross. Rondler…?

Friends, you say..?

Ah, I’m back! Let’s see what we have today… A few years ago, on New Years’ Eve, a friend asked me, “So tell me, how do you stay ‘just friends’ with a girl? I’ve never understood that…” I thought it was the easiest thing in the world… Of course, at the time, he was going steady with his girlfriend of two years and I had no one. So I say, “Nothing simpler. Just don’t think of her as a girl!” He just laughed and shook his head and that was the end of the conversation. Somehow, I got the feeling that he wasn’t laughing at my answer, he was laughing at me. Until that time, I had never really liked any girl that I knew or had known… Of course, there was the occasional Hot Chick that I lusted after, but then, who didn’t? And let’s face it, I never had a shot anyway. Ok, I’m straying off my point… It took me some time and a few more new friends, before I realized why I was laughed at. You can’t not think of a girl as a girl. You can’t be ‘just friends’ with a girl. There’s always a ‘feeling’ of something. It may not be sexual, it may not be romantic, but it’s something. You don’t get the feeling when you’re hangin’ with the guys, you don’t feel it when you’re with your best friend. But put a girl into the picture with you and see how it slithers out of the shadows to hang right over your head. You look at her differently from (not 'differently than' -thats just American) all your friends. It’s the law of nature, of procreation. Men were made to take women, not just hold their hand. Society and social mores gradually euphemized reality to a state where all men do not simply take women, (sometimes they take men!) but eventually take them, through courtship. This courtship… It’s what holds a man from outright claiming his woman, the ritual, as it were, that curbs the primal instinct to spontaneously mate. This primal instinct within us all is why you can’t stay ‘just friends’. Forget television and movies, they'll always remain fantasies; alternate realities.

You can be ‘friends’, even ‘best friends’, but not ‘just friends’.

Life, Love and Generality - 1

Life is nothing more than a compendium of random events, randomly spaced in time and occurring with no particular premeditation. Nothing is supposed to happen. Everything does.

Sometimes, the best way to fully enjoy life is to live it one day at a time. Don’t think too far ahead, you’ll miss what’s right in front of you.

Family and loved ones come before all else. Don’t give your life to your work; don’t give your life to your world. Give it to your family, the only ones who can return the care that you give them.

Enjoy the company of children and never forget what it’s like to be one of them.

Being mature is not such a great thing. To me, the day you declare your maturity is the day you declare that you’ve lost a part of yourself. The day you lose your inner child forever. The day you lose your ability to let out your emotions freely. The day when you stop feeling strongly about life and its nuances and learn to put things behind you. It happens to us all eventually when the tires of life catch up with us… perhaps then I’ll be able to calmly look back and smile when I remember how crazy I was about someone at one point.

Learn to be alone and not let it hurt you. You won't always have someone to hold on to.

I don’t believe in soul mates. There are NO two people made for each other. If ever there were, it would be highly unlikely that they ever would find each other and if they ever did, they'd make the most boring pair on earth. If things were so easy, then where’s the room for romance?

Make as many friends as you can. You never know when you might need a friend and there won’t be one around.

Mom says that things will happen when they’re supposed to, give them time. I say balls. If you can’t help yourself, then don’t expect things to work out for you. God? Wrong. God is not supposed to make things work for you. You're supposed to make things work for you.

And finally... I have a great theory about men and women and how things go around. But that's for another day, another post.

Excuses, excuses...

Alright, so I’m twentysomething… I know the stuff I post may been akin to the outpourings of a teenage mind and may continue to seem so for some time to come.
But then my teen years saw me as a somewhat nerdy kid, bottled up emotions, few friends and even fewer opinions. I never really opened up to anybody, not even mom, supposedly the solace for teenage angst, and as a result, I’ve pretty much been bursting at the seams to get stuff out.
So ultimately, a lot of the views here may be about eight years of repression, compounded with my newer understanding of life and self, finally getting an outlet. I may not have changed very much from the nerdy image, but I don’t repress, my opinions are as strong as any regular twentysomething, arguably stronger than some and finally, I have people to open up to…and this, my personal space. This isn’t a confession of insecurity, but rather an explanation of the content seen here. And having said all that, I think I’d better just write and leave the interpretations to someone else.