Sunday, February 6, 2011
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
"Which is the most resilient parasite of all????? A bacteria???A virus??? Nope...... An idea... Highly resilient and contagious...... Once it enters our body, i.e. sticks in our brain, it becomes highly difficult or even impossible to eradicate afterwards...... It drives people....."
"It doesn't matter whether people like what we do or not, the only thing that matters is whether we are enjoying ourselves"
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
But, please keep posting your articles regularly. All insights, ideas, stories, etc. etc. will be highly appreciated.
Variety and group-work is what we are looking for.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
A superwoman. @_@
Yup, that’s right. Unfortunately, all the girls of this planet are non-super. What to do? T_T
Ok, here’s an idea. Ditch the pencil and take up an eraser. Instead of putting in things I want in her, let’s just erase things which I DON’T want (less in number, thus reducing my work) from the universal set of traits. Miss X will be perfect as long as she can fit herself in the remaining space.
You’re a suitable candidate (applicable for female readers) to be my Miss Perfect provided that you’re NOT :-
That’s all. Auditions open for interested candidates till > my relationship status turns committed. O_O
It’s a quarter after 12, and I can’t sleep tonight. I’ve been listening to a radio program which gave its concluding speech, promising to return next Sunday. So, I switch to some Coldplay music instead. It is barely audible above the clattering of rain against the window pane beside me.
The atmosphere of the room brings a pleasant chill. Mostly, it is engulfed in darkness, the faint lamp being the only source of light. The packing boxes and the huge pile of books throw enormous and awkward shadows behind them, creating obscure dimensions on the feebly pale walls. Frequently, dazzling flashes would submerge the room, killing all shades, followed by ear-splitting thunder, which would leave the glass panes trembling.
If you look outside the window, you see a prevailing reflection of the lamp along with your own dull face staring back at you through the watery mess. Beyond that, you see the smudged yellow rays of glowing streetlights. They scatter to new patterns of randomness with each strike of raindrops. You notice a delicate layer of mist on the inner side of the glass. You can scribble non-sense with your fingertips, and laugh at your own silliness as the results fade away. Laugh, by yourself.
I stare blankly at the paper in front of me. I have always felt a peculiar sentiment towards blank papers and canvases. No matter what marks I make on them, I can never match my own expectations. Sometimes, I prefer neat, vacant exercise copies to some of story books, dreaming of greater things that can be created on them…
This abnormality in me has led to a hobby of collecting unused diaries of passing years. What should have been written in them, are stacked up in MS Word documents instead. Often, dad would rebuke me for wasting such nice diaries. But I’ve never cared. There were times, few years back, when he would take a diary without my permission, and use it to scribble down notes for career exams. That would make me real mad. Later, I would collect the discarded, half-filled diaries, and cut away the used pages, like a doctor amputating an incurable leg of a patient. It all seems so childish now. I still collect empty diaries, but not with such devotion.
The screen of my silenced cell appears suddenly out of the darkness, amidst the pile of books. 1 message received. I have no wish to reply though, but it reminds me of the existence of people in the world. Assured by the fact that I’m not the lone sinner, I decide to waste the paper in the worst way possible. Sketching my haphazard mind.
And now, I have a blog post.