tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90093735594170754092024-03-12T21:07:27.758-07:00Ravings of a Know-It-AllAneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-11618399817675322072013-11-20T23:06:00.001-08:002013-11-20T23:21:56.164-08:00You Had Me At "Hlo"<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="color: blue; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">“Language is my whore, my mistress, my wife, my pen-friend, my check-out girl. Language is a complimentary moist lemon-scented cleansing square or handy freshen-up wipette. Language is the breath of God, the dew on a fresh apple, it's the soft rain of dust that falls into a shaft of morning sun when you pull from an old bookshelf a forgotten volume of erotic diaries; language is the faint scent of urine on a pair of boxer shorts, it's a half-remembered childhood birthday party, a creak on the stair, a spluttering match held to a frosted pane, the warm wet, trusting touch of a leaking nappy, the hulk of a charred Panzer, the underside of a granite boulder, the first downy growth on the upper lip of a Mediterranean girl, cobwebs long since overrun by an old Wellington boot.” </span><br style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;" /><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 18px;">― </span>Stephen Fry</span></dt>
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<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><img height="157" src="http://cdn-static.zdnet.com/i/story/61/44/009106/omg-lol-dictionary-english-2-zaw2.png" width="400" /></dt>
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<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Someone very wise once said that language's greatest strength is its ability to evolve- a trait that it has exhibited by the bucketful for centuries past. Nobody really has a certain idea about where language originated, but linguists and philologists have for years been speculating on the meek and hazy beginnings of the spoken word.</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A number of theories dominate popular belief, however what most researchers have agreed on, is that language came from the association of sound to certain visual stimuli. These associations created meaning.</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Over the years, as cultures diverged and various peoples migrated to unexplored parts of the world to behold things that had never been seen before, they developed new sounds, new associations- new languages. It would probably be safe to assume that language evolved much like the human race did- in a logical order, best suited for the conditions in which it had to survive.</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Language has always been one of my primary loves. Coming from a country that has, over the centuries, amassed a rich and opulent culture, and what can only be described as a bright-hued palette of languages, I find it mildly embarrassing and not a little strange to admit to being truly proficient in only one.<span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px;"> It is also fairly ironic that the language I am most comfortable with is one that was brought to my countrymen in a rather unattractive visage, by an alien culture- and accompanied by years of slavery, robbery and colonialism. You win some, you lose some, I always say.</span></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px;"><br /></span></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The 2013 statistic, updated in November, says that English is the <b>third</b> most-spoken language in the world, following Mandarin and Spanish. It has the largest vocabulary of any existing language. It also happens to be one of the few things I care about. (All in one, huh?)</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Picking out landmarks in literary time, take Chaucer, Shakespeare, Shaw and Chetan Bhagat as loci, and you have a perfect map of how the landscape of language has changed over years and years of writing and speech.</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now, for someone who prides herself in being open and, for lack of a better insult, 'modern', I recently realised that when it comes to English, I instantaneously become one of those intolerable stuffy bastards who invoke Jesus' name every five seconds, and cannot tolerate <i>anything</i> being contrary to the Bible's instructions. You know the type- they always have the top comment on YouTube videos of The Ellen Degeneres Show, which reads something like "Pls don't be homosexual! Jesus will punish you and you will go to Hell!".</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, I essentially am a linguistic equivalent of those. Frightening, isn't it? Although I prefer the Oxford English to the Bible, the two are so similar in principle that I feel ill at ease every time I think about it too much. I suppose, then, that putting my fears up on a public forum is the new-generation form of escapism.</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The thing is, every time someone uses the wrong conjunction (which is often, believe me) or an incorrect derivative, or just the wrong word- I feel the compelling need to circle them three times in an anti-clockwise fashion and sprinkle them with holy water, while chanting, "Forgive them, lord, for they know not what they do."</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All this, and I only just realised how terrible it is. I wondered, whilst sipping a terrible cup of coffee at my workplace and staring into space as I often do, who is a true lover of language? One who feels the need to be smothered under layers and layers of rules and regulations and feels the constant need to keep it 'correct', so to speak, or one who understands its essential nature of change, and enjoys it in all its forms?</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Perhaps it is the latter. The essential elasticity of language has always been its greatest virtue- and had it not been this liberal, it wouldn't have had half the words in its vocabulary that it does now. Joy, bump, marketyard- one a borrowed word from the French <i>joie</i>, one a completely made-up word by a semi-famous poet, one an amalgamation of two words to form a single one that conveys all the meaning it needs to, without using up unnecessary space. (i.e., 'marketyard' as opposed to 'the yard in the market') It really is quite brilliant. And I suppose that's why it's alright to say things like "I'll go <i>karo</i>fy that now." (A frightening thing I heard someone say the other day) instead of "I'll go DO it." It is a merger of sorts, after all. And that's why the Oxford Dictionary expands every year- to allow the English language to grow and flourish like it has been for years.</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I read somewhere, recently, that with text-messaging becoming the new-wave of communication, there's an entirely new language developing. I don't mean just condensations of words (What's to wt's), but also entirely new meanings attached to words that have always existed. You know how, in the days of non-QWERTY phones, there was the Dictionary option, where you had to type out the word and then choose from a selection of possible things you may have typed out, the word you meant? Right. So when you typed 'cool', it automatically became 'book'. And because no-one bothered to correct it, it became accepted colloquial terminology. So in some parts of the world, 'book' now means cool.</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Frightening. I suppose all it takes is a little getting used to. Just like religion, animal sacrifice and marriage rituals. On second thought, maybe not marriage rituals. You hear about hundreds of languages dying out every year because nobody uses them any longer, and you might be thankful that English does not share their snobbery. It is willing to change. Now if only we'd (I'd) let it.</span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="background-color: white; border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Either way, I don't think I'm ever getting used to this:</span></dt>
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<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">2 b, or nt 2 b–tht is = ?:</span></i></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Wether ’tis nbler in da mynd 2 sffr</span></i></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Da slings N arrows ov outragus 4toon</span></i></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Or 2 tke rms agst a C of trubles</span></i></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">N by opposin end dem. 2 die, 2 sleep–</span></i></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">No mre–n by a sleep 2 say wii nd</span></i></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">Da hartake, n da 1000 nturl shoks</span></i></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;">DAT flsh is air 2.</span></i></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span></i></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's Shakespeare's Hamlet, in case you were confused. I know I was. The speech conventionally begins "To be or not to be."</span></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I had hoped that putting all this painstaking effort into writing this piece would help me form an opinion on English's new form, but as always, this was all for nothing.</span></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></dt>
<dt style="border: 0px; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.390625px; margin: 0px; outline: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Oh well, that's the end of this episode of Being Forced To Listen To Pointless Rants. Hope you enjoyed yourself. See you again next week. It's good-night from me.</span></dt>
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AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-9104131266109821052013-07-23T07:21:00.000-07:002013-07-23T07:45:52.039-07:00The Spoils of War<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 115%;">Break-ups are hard. At least, that’s what they say. You have
to deal with not having that blanket of security- that person who reminded you
why you were (sorry, are) so amazing, the feeling of your sentences being
completed, that sensation that, no matter what you do, you’ll have someone by
your side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">You know who break-ups are harder for? Your friends.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Yes, break-upper/upee: I speak to you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">You chased us around for weeks. You emotionally blackmailed
and threatened your way into getting us to meet your new beau. When we finally,
<i>finally</i> relented, you looked so
relieved, we thought you were going to wet yourself. We had that one
conversation. That one cup of coffee. We assured you that we <i>loved</i> him/her, and that we’re happy for
you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">And you sighed with joy, satisfied, and took her by the hand
and pranced off. We sat there, bought a packet of high-calorie chips, drank
another cup of coffee, and read by ourselves. We were happy you were happy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">But let me tell you something about that meeting. We lied. We
don’t think anyone’s good enough for you- and even if someone is, there’s no <i>way</i> we’d know that with one meeting.
But, caring about you is a flip-sided coin. We understood that it’d make you
happy- that lie. And it wouldn’t really affect us, right?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">Wrong. We gave him/her another shot. And another. And bam! As
it turns out, we <i>liked</i> them. The
spouse (What? Marriage is just semantics.) was worth it! We met more often, and
through you, we made a new friend. We started hanging out together, laughed at
the same jokes, laughed at you. It was all going well. We were so proud of
being SUCH a good friend to you, that we found a way to reap the benefits of
our self-sacrificing affections.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">And, as always, the iceberg peaked out from beneath the still
waters. Your perfectly blissful, perfectly happy piece of heaven split in two. The
Break-Up. You decided you were done with each other, didn’t even care enough to
be friends. Or share friends. And we were stuck with one leg on each piece of
heaven, and our privates uncomfortably exposed to the pollution from Earth
below. (Took the metaphor too far, perhaps, but you understand.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">And suddenly, there was a choice. We had to schedule
ice-cream with you one day, beers with him/her the next. Watch one movie with
you, another with the Ex. Suddenly, we felt like we were cheating on both of
you. And we had no plays left. All the lies had been told, all the discomfort
had been shared, you had both cried on our shoulder, and we had comforted you
both. What did we have left, but the truth? So we told you.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">It was traumatic. You both widened your eyes, took deep
breaths and said you understood. What’s worse, we knew you really did. And we
knew you were both hurt. We just didn’t know how to make it better. We knew we couldn’t
ask you to get back together just so we wouldn’t have to watch the same movie
two separate times on alternate Sundays.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">So we carried on the charade, continued playing the game, and
somehow, we survived until you both moved on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">The alternate situation, of course, is that we'll magically end up being the reason you broke up. But that, perhaps another time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;">But here’s what we hope you understand, you bloody idiots.
Leave us out of your love lives. We’ll lie about our approval just as- if not
more effectively if we have no idea who you’re dating. And we’re happier that
way. Trust us. Everyone’s happier that day. Maybe we’ll meet him or her the day
you guys get married. At least a divorce will take a while to come around. And
you always need a character witness in court.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-bidi-font-size: 11.0pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now go on. Go live your life, you giant idiot. We’ll be fine as long as you’re happy. And sometimes, even if you're just alive.</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-81955673693532666102013-06-21T07:05:00.000-07:002013-06-22T01:31:15.218-07:00The Eternal Masochist<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<img src="http://www.thedcbegotist.com/sites/www.thedcbegotist.com/files/images/masochism1.jpg" /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Love is a funny thing. They say we never choose it- who, or
when or even if. And I suppose they’re right. Choosing who to fall in love
with, is probably like choosing your favourite flavour of muffin. You don’t
decide on it. One day, you take a bite and you just...know.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then again, the choices we make are nothing if not
reflections of the people we are. The old ‘Opposites attract’ adage has been
disproven both by science and society over time, and the new ‘Love is your
recognition of the values you hold highest in yourself’ has taken its place.
While not too many people know who Ayn Rand is, everybody has an opinion about
her idea of love.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Until a very short while ago, I agreed with her
wholeheartedly. I still do, really. I’ve just gained some perspective on what
she said, recently. Not all values are those we hold dearest in ourselves. Were
we exalting all our virtues and burying all our vices, we’d all be
prouder-than-ever obnoxious offspring of the legendary Narcissus. While Rand’s
characters may be unapologetically proud, the real world functions a little
differently. Even the proudest of us, have something we look back on with a
cringe, something about ourselves we’re still finding the answer to, something
that sets us apart- that we wish, didn’t.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have long maintained that intelligence is humanity’s- and
my- greatest gift. It is all I’ve cared about, and perhaps all I will. When I
was very young, someone I held in very high stead told me that the only way to
truly judge, and be judged, is to use the human mind as the first and only
parameter. I listened. Today, it is my only rule. And somewhere along the line,
in my quest for knowledge and answers to quench my curiosity, I forgot about
the more primal, the softer aspects of humanity. People became dispensable, the
few people I loved took a backseat, and they didn’t matter if they didn’t have
‘the brains’ to be in my life. All more or less harmless changes in the grander
scheme of things, particularly because I wasn’t very concerned about these
changes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What the realisations did lead me to, however, was a larger
question. What is most important to you and, therefore, what you will look for
in love, may be your favourite value- but not necessarily your greatest. And in
looking for that one person who secures that value and nourishes it- are you
also nourishing the part of you that requires to be killed?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We all know that love is supposed to make everything better,
and sunnier and lighter. But not all love is like that. Sometimes, the best
kind of love, the one you can’t live without- is also the kind that pushes you
to the edge of sanity, makes your head swim and you wonder why you haven’t left
yet. But you know the answer- and it is, you can’t. You can’t get rid of the
low- that’s so low, it’s the best high you’ve ever had. Of the maddening
uncertainty, that makes you confused, annoyed, frustrated and so, so aroused.
Of the times you want to bury yourself in the ground, to hide away: but don’t,
so you can feel the kick of the happier times.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We're all masochists, at the end of the day. Someone may inspire the sadist in us from time to time, but when all's said and done, we never really feel alive until we feel pain. It is that pain, that feeling, that </span><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 38px;"><i><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">se sentir vivant</span></i></span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, that we're drawn to.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The strangest thing is- we all do it. It’s not just victims
of abuse. It’s not just married couples. It’s everybody, and everything. Love
for a friend, for a spouse, a child, a book, music, the stage, a painting- even
the muffin that tastes like heaven until it oozes chocolate sauce all over your
white shirt.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
It’s all love, all over the world- it tends to treat you this way. Like you’re
a disposable. And you only feel that way until you leave, with the intention of
never coming back. And at that moment, when you turn around, you feel that pit
in your stomach- see your love crying for you and run back- arms open, ready to
do it all over again.</span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Who decides, then, what love is healthy and what isn’t? You
do. If you look closely enough, you’ll
see the fine line that runs between roller-coaster and just plain unhealthy.
What you have to decide, though, is if you want to draw it. And when you do, where
do you draw the line, beyond which anything is too much? And then, there is
always the kind of question that’s simplest to ask, and nearly impossible to
answer- the kind that contains both the question and the answer, but has enough
dimensions to serve as neither. And the special question of the day, is-</span></div>
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</div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What if someone who brings out the best in your mind, also
brings out the worst in your soul?</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;"><i><b><span style="color: purple;">"All this time I've blamed you. For pulling me into the dark. But I was wrong. It was </span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;"><i><b><span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;"><i><b><span style="color: purple;">me who brought out your dark side."</span></b></i></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.818181991577148px; line-height: 17px;"><b>-Blair Waldorf.</b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11.818181991577148px; line-height: 17px;"><b>Gossip Girl.</b></span></div>
</div>
AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-33999360732572300692013-06-17T10:36:00.000-07:002013-06-22T01:32:09.245-07:00Letting Go<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<img height="400" src="http://positiveoutlooksblog.files.wordpress.com/2012/11/nowhere.jpg" width="358" /></div>
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<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some of the best and worst of us go through life looking for
something we never seem to find. The validation of those around us. We seek the
reassurance that the person we are turning out to be at every point in our life
is the one that those around us approve of.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We all have those friends, segregated into groups and kept
there for when we need them. The school friends- who your parents know and
love, who will always see in you the five year-old girl who blossomed into the
confused, awkward teen and then barely saw you again. The puberty friends- who
you met in junior college and tuition classes, who saw you when you were in
your famous pseudo-confident, I-have-a-personality phase. The college friends,
with whom you do all the illegal things you’d never, <i>ever</i> tell your school friends about.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
And that’s where they stay. In their own little shells, ready to be called on
when you need advice in their specific areas of expertise on your life.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Through life’s thicks and thins, through the ups and downs
and the pretty much regulars, they’re there. To witness your circumstance wind,
ebb and flow, changing you into the person you eventually become.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then there’s that moment, that only very few of us have the privilege
to step back and realise we’re living. The one where we realise, that all the
people we concern ourselves with on an everyday basis, who we think about so
often, who we pretend hold a place in our lives- don’t matter. What’s more, we
always knew that. They never did matter. That all the chattering, the gossip,
the mindless meeting was just that. There was never anything more to it. Because
we realise, that in the struggle to be ourselves, we forgot how little we cared
for the opinions of others.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There’s them, and then there’s us.<br />
Us. The ones who once tried to fit in, gave up, realised they were better outside
of the social arena, fought stereotypes and then grew up one day- suddenly-
into the kind of people who never cared enough for stereotypes to fight them.
Our victory was in finding the truest version of ourselves that we could
possibly find, distilling it to its simplest form, and spending the rest of our
lives staying true to it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Somehow, we realise that the validation we spent some of, or
all our lives looking for, is never what we wanted. We wanted that validation
for ourselves. And we lose grip on all the people we surrounded ourselves with,
who we kept close by like safety blankets for when we were confused and
disoriented. We don’t need them anymore. They’re not who we’re living for.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And that’s when we find our real friends. The ones who tell
things to us like they are. Who are disappointed in us, not when we let them
down but when we let ourselves down. Who, when we lose clarity, determination
or objectivity, become those virtues to us. Who speak to us in our own voice
and somewhere along the way, help us realise that they were somewhere inside us
all along.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
Who remind us that, once in a while, you really will find someone who can look
at you through your own eyes. That you chose a life of living for yourself, by yourself,
and that you must always remember why you made that decision.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because a true friend to a person who knows he’s better off
by himself, is a friend who knows that adding value to one another is the
essentiality of a good friendship. Who doesn't need to be told when to be
there, or what to say, or how to say it- but somehow ends up doing everything
right.</span></div>
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<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At the end of the road, when we find our real selves, in all
our clarity, they are the only ones that stay with us. They are the only ones
that matter. They are the only ones we want.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
As for the rest- we just have to let go.</span></div>
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AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-54322889029880591902013-06-03T05:13:00.000-07:002013-06-26T20:30:14.060-07:00Women and Lingerie<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img height="317" src="http://data.whicdn.com/images/9701122/t_4499_01_large.jpg" width="400" /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
<br />
<b>Had Superman been a woman</b>, boy, would he have had problems. Every morning would have been an endless supply of doubts and frustration. What underwear should I wear? Is it flattering? Is the colour okay? I can't wear red underwear ALL THE TIME! Everybody will think I'm a giant bore! My god, this cut makes my thighs look like Hercules'! (Although, I suppose, saying that to Superman would mean paying him a huge compliment. But you get the picture.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Even though women seldom- if ever- wear their lingerie on the outside of their clothes, their problems make Superman's hypothetical ones look like molehills before mountains. (Even though being stuck with molehills could very well be something some of us may have to deal with.). Every morning is a Pandora's box of revelations, unanswered questions and self-annihilating "discoveries", as we like to call them, but know, in saner and more secure moments, that they are just baseless and pointless fears. (I think.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Either way, lingerie is the single most important component of any woman's closet. Irrespective of whether or not somebody is going to see it. <i>Everything</i> matters. I mean everything. Name it, and it's relevant to the grander scheme of lingerie-buying, and morning-to-morning What-Lingerie-Do-I-Wear-Today decisions.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Any woman who is reading this, shaking her head and saying "Psh. Not me."- Liar. You know you care. I don't need to tell you that. Go out and buy yourself a nice new bra in your favourite colour, and tell me that it doesn't make you happy.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All the men who are reading this- well, I don't know why you are, really. Although it's always nice to know you're working on understanding what women care about.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm all for the 'each woman is unique' thing, but this is the one, I repeat ONE common thread that binds us. Like the Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants. Except when I say pants, I don't <i>quite</i> mean pants.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Good lingerie can make or break your day, really. We all know that. Men- you too. I know you're thinking about it. If you sit down and make a mental checklist of everything you think about when you buy a piece of lingerie- <i>any</i> piece of lingerie- underwear, stockings, corsets- whatever- you'll know how the things you consider are nothing like what you consider when you buy a shirt, or a pair of pants. Not even a pair of shoes. (I'm not a fan of...well, shoes in general, but I do understand how important they seem to be to a vast majority of our kind. And by kind, I mean gender.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You look at a shirt in a store, and go: "Huh. It looks great. Where will I wear it? If it's only going to make me feel nice once in a while and I won't get use out of it, what's the point? I don't want to buy one shirt that'll make me feel special thrice in my life, instead of three shirts that I can wear every three days."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When you look at lingerie, you go, "<i>Why</i> should I buy this? It may be relatively inexpensive, and it may go with everything, but does it make me feel special? I don't want to skimp out on the expenses, and buy three irrelevant *insert whatever you're buying here*, instead of one great *insert previous term again* that makes me feel like the queen of the world."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of course, we obsess about IDIOT things while we're at it. I don't say idiot because we shouldn't be obsessing about them- I'm fairly sure I'm obsessing about at least one of them right now. I say idiot because there really is no end to the obsession. Things like, "My bra and my underwear don't colour coordinate <i>exactly</i>. What if someone notices?! What if the next person who sees my underwear, thinks I look like a clown, because my top half and bottom half are differently coloured?" Of course, not everybody has this particular problem- some of us enjoy a little colour under our clothes. To hell with matching, we want the clash. Fair enough. But not to worry, there are lingerie-related problems for all kinds of people, irrespective of colour, caste, nationality, lalala. How about "I have that date today, but I'm not sure if he is going to see my lingerie today, so maybe I should bring out the lace, just in case. But the lace underwear is UNCOMFORTABLE. Maybe I should put them in my bag, and excuse myself and go to the washroom, and change them, and...". And while these worries are universal, both in their occurrence and pointlessness, there are far more pertinent things to do, whilst shopping for, or choosing what lingerie to wear every morning. Bikini waxes, panty lines, love handles (I always wondered why they had anything to do with love. Isn't that supposed to make you fitter? Anyway.), ill-fitting bras, those damn clasps that insist on popping open when you're sitting in class and minding your own business.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Damn this lingerie business, and bless it, too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't think men have such pressing problems. Boxers or briefs, sounds like the most intensive problem they're likely to have. And, from what I've been told, they're more thankful for lingerie than you are.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In fact, as a friend told me a while ago, "We don't care if you don't match. We don't care if you're wearing neon (Ooh!) underwear. It doesn't matter. We're just happy we got to see your lingerie, at all."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sounds fair. Of course, perhaps there are boundaries. Like I'm fairly sure this:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is not the same as this:</span><br />
<div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img height="150" src="https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTvjFxRgYfpCjQuaWQE7erIdNFGF-rCqcinv8NWQEVAjSTk_loXFA" width="200" /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But thank you, anyway, gentlemen. You make our lingerie...uh...fit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All in all, lingerie is like chocolate. It feels good. Always. On a bad day, it lifts you up. On a good day, it perks your euphoria. A Victoria's Secret catalogue may make you feel like shit, but going out, buying a good pair of stockings and rolling them on can make you feel like Mrs. Robinson in five seconds flat. And we all want to be Mrs. Robinson. Don't deny it, now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That's her, in case you were confused. If you don't know who she is, go find out. It's worth it, I swear.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTT-mU6JeN8L8w-cKmEqeod1ROGaUN654rtr9G4d4teQ9Y18YO0" /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I remember stumbling across a couple of articles, that said "The colour of a woman's underwear speaks volumes about the kind of lover she is." To that, I say, balls. A woman who owns pink, black, red and nude underwear, is not schizophrenic. She is just smart enough to know, that when she is out shopping, her choices are not based on whether she wants to be loved tenderly or primally, but which side of the bed she woke up on. And besides, no lingerie is boring unless you want it to be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What's of greater import, however, is that the magic of lingerie lies in it's ability to seamlessly settle into your personality, and make you fall in love with yourself. Not to mention, make some-lucky-body else fall in love with you. It could be mysterious, bold, flirtatious. Anything you want it to be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of course, I could blabber about this forever. It's one of those profound, yet fond subjects of discussion.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's all about drawing the line, really. Panty or otherwise.</span></div>
AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-50081185490992888472013-02-12T20:16:00.000-08:002013-06-26T20:31:13.162-07:00Shrugging Atlas<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQkiYv8cJ8T8TP5UlfFCVOkjspKBA4CZrcuY2KtV8aJKNMvaGqQ" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcQkiYv8cJ8T8TP5UlfFCVOkjspKBA4CZrcuY2KtV8aJKNMvaGqQ" width="320" /></span></a><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 17px;"></span></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>If you
saw Atlas, the giant who holds the world on his shoulders, if you saw that he
stood, blood running down his chest, his knees buckling, his arms trembling but
still trying to hold the world aloft with the last of his strength, and the
greater the effort the heavier the world bore down upon his shoulders -- what
would you tell him to do?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>I don't
know. What could he do? What would you tell him?</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>To
shrug.</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 12.75pt; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I'm
smart.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">We know, they say, with a tinge of understanding in their
voice, and a great deal of disapproval for my arrogance in their eye.<br /><br />
</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I'm strong.<br />
We know that, they assure me, with a sideways glance at my slight frame and an
ill-masked look that conveys their supposed attempt to humour the child they
know I am being.<br /><br />
</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I know.<br />
We know, they sigh, shaking their heads at the book between my fingers and my
black-framed glasses that, like my face, are buried in the pages it houses.<br /><br />
</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I think.<br />
We have always known, they venture. They look nowhere but in the depths of my
eyes, as though searching for a break, a flaw in the thought whose lack of
sentiment discomforts them.<br /><br />
</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I believe.<br />
They smile, knowing my rationality will keep me from any real belief- their
eyes betraying that they do not believe a belief in rationality to be true.</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
I love.<br />
They look befuddled- their foreheads creasing into a maze of wrinkles, the
corners of their mouths turning down in disbelief. They look for that hint of a
sentiment they may identify with, search my face painstakingly, helplessly for
that 'love'. They do not find it.<br />
They do not find it, for my love is for the rare few that foster it, nurture
it, bring it forth. For those wrinkled pages. For the comforting woodenness of
a stage. For the lilting notes of a violin. For the faces- the ones I see every
time I blink, and I will never tire of.<br />
For them, for those who don't see how that love is born, I bear none. So they
continue to search. Endlessly.</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
I live for me.<br />
They protest instinctively, pointlessly, helplessly. They try to convince me
that I'll grow out of it as I will grow out of everything else that I am now.
Selfishness, they explain with gracious patience, will get me nowhere.<br />
At them, I smile. I nod. I acknowledge. I listen. I understand. I don't
disagree. I don't blame them for what they say. But I don't agree. I quietly,
in the secrecy of my mind, revel in the confusion they bear towards me.<br />
They will never grow out of it, I think, and laugh at the joke I know is only
for me. To them, I offer no explanation. I present no defence. I make no
comparison.</span><br />
<span style="background: white; color: #333333; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 115%; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br />
I am.<br />
They are silent.</span></div>
</div>
AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-23580053302955688742012-11-26T03:18:00.000-08:002013-06-26T20:45:36.068-07:00Men and Women Merely Players<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;">Learn your lines!</span> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;">Why are you wearing uncomfortable clothes?! You can't rehearse in uncomfortable clothes!</span> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;">We have no <i>money</i>!</span> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;">Lights.</span> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;">Lines.</span> </span></blockquote>
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<span style="color: #38761d; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Applause.</span></blockquote>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;"><br /></span>
Theatre.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What a word. What a concept. What an experience. Magic.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've always known why I love the stage. It's simple. Theatre's in my blood. Not from my rich theatrical heritage- more like a rush of hormonal imbalance that shoots through my veins when I think about the fervour that the stage brings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Working in theatre, with all its dimensions, has always culminated in being on stage. About the sheer joy that rehearsal brings to my day. About the spark that runs from my head to my toes every time I set foot on that cold wooden floor, the warmth of the fluorescent lights hitting my eyes till they water, the exhilaration of applause that echoes in my mind for days after I hear it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You know how Sartre once said, "Acting is happy agony."? Well, he was right. Then again, that man always knew what he was talking about.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can't recall the number of times a script, a scene, a line has twisted my insides with the confusion, the complexity, the unfamiliarity it brings. And I know there's a lot more the come. The thing is, that intestinal convolution is part of a far bigger, far more ethereal deal. Somehow, in my head, it's a fair barter. Some frustration, in return for a thrill like none other. What's the harm?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We go through our lives pretending, as someone I know very acutely pointed out. Pretending that we fit into society as we see it. That we know what the Algebra teacher is talking about (Well, some of us). That our minds are merely subject to a higher power. That, in following a dozen rules that we did not choose for ourselves, we are living honourably. That we care more about honour than happiness.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I could go on, but I'm sure you see the point.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Well, I like to act, because it helps me shed the coat of pretence. More significantly, it allows me the opportunity to point it out to others, so that they may, <i>may</i>, realise how much it is obstructing their vision.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because, at the end of the day, isn't that what art is about? The painter paints to express his inner desires and visions. The dancer dances to tell a story through his body. The musician uses his notes, his voice, the power of his instrument, to create a mood, foster a sentiment in a way that only he can. I act, because there are thousands of stories that deserve to be told, thousands of desires that are begging to be expressed, thousands of emotions that nobody is brave enough to face: and I can live them. Albeit for a while. And in living them, I can tell those stories, represent all those people, pull the mask off my face and hope that it may inspire others to do the same. It gives me the courage to be the truest version of myself, and wearing that face, I am the most I can be.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>All the world's a stage</i>, said Shakespeare.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My world may as well be one.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img height="275" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_-_HWjnZvwLc/TLObZ8F_64I/AAAAAAAAAMU/-nBnNt3Hbr4/s400/theatre+masks.gif" width="400" /></span></div>
AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-10357976992274278672012-11-22T04:13:00.000-08:002013-06-26T20:46:49.800-07:00Leave Me To My Mistakes<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img src="http://emersondirect.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/erase.jpg" /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
This is a public apology for all the ridiculous typos that seem to have infested my posts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I should have known better than to let them get the better of me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If only Spell-Check had the extraterrestrial ability to pick out words that don't fit the context. I can't really help it if I type 'life' in the stead of 'live'. I'm only human! Damn you, Spell-Check. I know they're both words, but why don't you possess the intelligence to know when the word DOESN'T FIT THERE?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anywho. You know what they say about bad workmen. Fortunately, I, am not a bad workman. I genuinely do have bad tools. Or the wrong ones.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Let's not dwell here. I know this blog is called Ravings of a Know-It-All, but I don't have to keep wanting to prove its legitimacy to you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm going to start typing slower in the future, I swear. I'd say I'll start double-checking everything I type, but even I don't believe that. I'd hardly expect you to.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Imagine my embarrassment if you found any typos in <i>this</i> post.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sigh.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Fingers crossed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With love.</span></div>
AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-87496698934736772102012-11-18T22:39:00.003-08:002013-06-26T20:38:26.129-07:00Hello, I Love You<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If heaven had a voice, it would be his. If heaven had a bard, he would be it. If heaven had a beauty contest, he would win it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_qOJxzI-3-Tg/S8cA75PqD5I/AAAAAAAAANI/6liPyVShkGs/s1600/Jim-Morrison.jpg" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If he were reading this right now, though, he'd probably be laughing. For the place that he belongs, is not heaven. He was too adventurous, too intelligent, too...completely out of his mind, to have to be sent there for the rest of his existence. But I know better than to say he's in hell. Hell, is for the unimaginative few, that do wrong without thinking it through, or knowing why. No, he is in a very special place. One, in fact of his very own creation. And the name of the band to which he belonged (I dare not call it 'his band', I've heard that annoyed him.)- should provide me with ample proof of the place I mean.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Beyond The Doors of perception, you will find him. You will find the curly haired genius I'm raving about.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You will find Jim Morrison.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And you won't find him alone. When I shut my eyes and think about what it was that made Morrison, Morrison, the answers fall into my lap, like they were waiting to get there all along. His poetry and his voice are only part of it- an indispensable part, but a mere fraction, nevertheless. There was more. There was alcohol, women, Robbie Krieger, and the police force of the United States of America. The backdrop to his fame. And that's what you'd find with him: that familiar bottle, the air of a high (I mean that quite literally, actually) and a thousand gyrating women, who'd been shipped specially from Hell for him. Or Heaven, if they gyrated Monday through Friday and worked in a soup kitchen on weekends.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Nevertheless, I'm digressing.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why is it that Jim Morrison makes me- and so many others, feel the magic that music made him feel? I don't know. I don't know what it is about him, that makes me think he's the most beautiful man I've ever seen. I don't know what it is about his lyrics, that makes me laugh, cry, reminisce and float. I don't know what it is about his voice, that makes me feel like he's singing only for me, like I'm swimming in the richness of his tenor, and there's nothing to the world except the things he's singing </span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">about.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What I do know, though, is this. No ordinary man can life a life as dramatic as he did, write some of the best poetry of his age (and ages hence), and make a living out of messing with the heads of every solitary person in the world- and not succumb to the unending glamour of insanity.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What I would give, to live in his time. What I would give to be able to experience what he gave his audiences each time he went up on that stage. Everything. And more. But, I suppose, that's the beauty and the sorrow of a live well-lived. There's no going back, and there's no moving forward.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So I do what I can do best with him around me. I play his music, listen to his voice, and write poetry of my own.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Because, love, this isn't The End.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One day, someday, we might just meet. And that's a hope I'm willing to live in.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
<blockquote class="tr_bq">
<b><i><span style="color: #cc0000; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Come on, come on, come on, come on<br />And Touch Me, babe,<br />Can't you see that I am not afraid?</span></i></b></blockquote>
</div>
AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-28470513735598370542012-06-13T05:47:00.003-07:002013-06-26T20:39:21.002-07:00Sometimes, it's just about the words.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img height="400" src="https://encrypted-tbn2.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRCiz7e4lhR63HX6pdtdUDQKZ6-ep2Tyy_fFnNv8OJssGa5UOtV7Q" width="307" /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;">I haven't done this in a while.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;">Not that I returned as a result of some incurable withdrawal symptoms, but I've always found that starting dramatic is helpful. Either way, I must confess, I did not come here with the intention of typing out a new post. I came here, to delete my account. That's right.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;">I took said decision purely on the basis of a host of pointless yet, I must maintain, logical doubts, that began unashamedly entering my subconscious and poking at it with iron rods. "How do you know if anyone's even reading this?". "What's the point of a blog, REALLY?" Sometimes a snide, "Don't flatter yourself.", with a characteristic scoff that I'm mostly used to throwing at people outside of myself. You know the drill.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;">But then, the inevitable happened. I logged in, and found that I didn't know how to delete my account. That's right. I don't know how to delete a blogger account. (If that's even what it's called.) Laugh away.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;">And so, I did what any helpless, cyber-challenged writer would do. I gave up, and wrote this instead. Predictable, I know.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;">Because, I decided today, fuck it. I don't know how many of you are reading this, or how many of you know who I am, or if you did read it, and absolutely hated it. I am narcissistic, I am a below-clinical insomnia, and I am overflowing with words and ideas, sometimes pointless and misplaced, that would bear no context or relevance to any place else, or anybody else. So I'm going to write here.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Irrespective.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;">So if you're reading, hey.</span></span></div>
AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-22812002391189339432011-11-15T07:21:00.001-08:002013-06-26T20:39:54.751-07:00Alone<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<b><i><span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span></i></b>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>In a cage a single man<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Soldered off from the rest<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Sits in silence and, it may be said,<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>A peaceful acceptance<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #351c75;"><span lang="EN-GB" style="font-family: Calibri;">Of the <o:p></o:p></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Calibri;">unending</span></span></i></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Solitude- his foe, his friend<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Since the day he opened his unforgiving eyes .<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>And so the sights of war<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Of play and of friendly spirit<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Seem to him like trials<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Of a foreign world far and beyond<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>His own, of iron wrought.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>In the world live men together<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Loving, laughing, speaking, fighting:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>A team, a group, a family<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>A government, an army -<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Tied by the silken threads of<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Warm sentiments intangible.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>And so this lonely man,<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>In his dark and cold prison cell:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Seems to them like they behold some<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Strange and frightening manifestation:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Of the face of pain and of sorrow.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>And as the world kills,<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Screams, stabs:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Each man trying to make<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>The world his own:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>The lonely man sits quiet<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>And still, living for himself:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>No blood, no hate, no love<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>No gore.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>The steel in his gaze, the stead of his stance-</i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Are virtues to the general brothers unknown.</i></b></span></div>
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<b><i><span style="color: #351c75;"><br /></span></i></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>I stand and watch these<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Strange apparitions<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>In a silence that confounds me:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>For I am a lonesome, caged soul<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>In a shared world born:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>So I think of what I<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Have been told.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Of what I see.<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>And finally facing my own soul,<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>I question the truth of the world in its whole:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>What is the answer to my question,<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>The one we have always known:<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>Are the children of the universe<o:p></o:p></i></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-GB" style="color: #351c75; font-family: Calibri;"><b><i>All for all, or one for one?</i></b></span></div>
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AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-85697948098008531452011-11-08T20:03:00.000-08:002013-06-26T20:41:02.506-07:00Lost in Translation<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A typical experiment involves a few very basic and essential components:</span><br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A Set of Variables:</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For example, if your experiment is to verify that white light is made up of 7 visible colours, you will perform the experiment considering that: A prism will cause dispersion, that all the colours of light travel at different speeds in glass, and that you are aware of which colour is which based on your visual perception of them. These are things about your experiment that have already been discovered, or that you have observed. and will form the basis for your findings.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A social experiment is no different. You must consider the majorities, as opposed to the niches, and assume that for a homogeneous group- say college students, the general reactions will be the same. More importantly, it is essential to predict that <b>subconscious involvement</b> will be wholesome, regardless of the relevance of the experiment in question to the subjects.</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Apparatus:</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the aforementioned experiment, what we shall need is a prism, a white-light torch, and a screen- keeping it to the bare essentials.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">All you really need for the Social Hypothesis, is this country's most dispensable resource. People. People are the premise for every social experiment. And, preferably, a cyber forum. Facebook is most suitable, considering its universality, and general heat-of-action scenario.</span><br />
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<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A Stimulus to the Procedure:</span></li>
</ul>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For the dispersion to be set in action, the white light needs to be shone on the prism. Simple. One step. After that, the dispersion is passive, as is the colours appearing on the screen.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">More psychologically speaking, the primary stimulus is the inclination to perform the experiment in the first place. Say interest in light, or curiosity about the results.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That said, these alternate, curious experiments require stimuli, too. Physical stimuli. Like, say, going with the Facebook analogy- a changed status. Or something equally earth-shattering in teenage and cyber terms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What it also requires, is a mental push. A conversation that goes something like 'I bet you can't put this up on Facebook', followed by a mild argument, and ending with 'Ooh, I want to know what people will say'. And, if you're a little smarter than the crowds you walk with, a hypothesis about a proposed result.</span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Result:</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then the wait. To see that screen, to read those comments. To see if people knew you would achieve it all along, or if they're surprised out of their wits by your unexpected prowess.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The reaction. Watching as they fawn over you, ask you questions, dwell on the intimate intricacies of your life, while you've already moved on.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You're already solving a new integral in your head.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But all this is lost in translation, isn't it?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I guess you could go ahead and call this an experiment, too.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Que sera sera.</span></div>
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AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-76321758075622618622011-10-29T08:13:00.000-07:002013-06-26T20:43:15.733-07:00BHAG(at)-O!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<img src="http://img6a.flixcart.com/image/book/8/0/6/revolution-2020-400x400-imadgya3ypqzn5zg.jpeg" /><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b><br /></b>
<b>Revolution 2020.</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not a revolution by any gross stretch of imagination. Not even a substantial creation.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One would assume, that after churning out four mind-numbingly ridiculous excuses for novels, Chetan Bhagat would recover from his pitiable bent of mind that leads him to assume that he is capable of producing any work of literary- or even minorly distinctive- merit.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If not for the sake of saving some face with literary circles across the country who have, now, a newfound pastime in dissecting (I would add 'and condemning', but that, I would assume, is a default with those who've made their lives of studying, or even reading as an enjoyable hobby, the works of Shaw and Shakespeare. Or even Arundhati Roy.) his works: he might have some consideration for his (This is about the time I experience physical heartache) <i>fans</i> across the country. This is his fifth- for lack of more appropriate terminology- book, his fifth great milestone after he so famously (No, no, it wasn't famous when it happened. He wrote about it in 'Five Point Someone' remember? Right after he stole the keys from his Dean's...oh that's right. Everybody read the book.) discarded his Engineering career for a career as a writer.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you think you've fulfilled your calling, I'm sorry, Mr. Bhagat, far from it.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Revolution 2020 sees, once again, the same character stereotypes- the same North-Indian, <i>khaata-peeta</i> <i>naujawan</i>, with family problems, education problems, that done-to-death mindless Engineering persuasion. The same<i> aye-haye</i> girl, with her airs and graces, and her chiffon dupatta. Boy screws her. And then screws her over. Many years later, when he's rich and successful, he moans about the true meaning of life. Once in a while, someone opens up a college. Or sees God. Or has a fight with his best friend. (Actually, scratch the "once in a while" for that last. That's not really a once-in-a-while thing for us anymore. Is it, C.B.?)</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then, of course, the Trump. Each book begins with a disclaimer. A personal anecdote, or an unashamed claim that the story up ahead is true- making <i>that</i> the only thing you think about as you read. Touche, Mr. Bhagat. Run away from the unidimensional insipidity of your writing by kicking sand in the reader's face.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Alright, I'll cave: Five Point Someone, was well-enjoyed, though the giddying praise for it was overrated beyond all sane limits. It was one of those intriguing Indie-student-type novels, where people say 'fucker' and 'chutya' removed from context or meaning, in purebred Punjabi accents (But hey, who am I to stereotype? Chetan's already doing that for me.), that I know I'll never enjoy. Still, kudos for taking the first step in that direction. It takes something, I'm assuming. Something more brave than sheer lack of ideas- which is, unfortunately, what I see it as.</span></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But honestly, quit trying to fool us by printing the same novel over and over again with a different cover and different names. I know we seem to eat up your crap now, but we won't stand this for long.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How long do you think horny, hungry eighteen year-olds who're stoned out of their wits and made to study from textbooks (Which, by the way, are far less linear than your work) till they can understand nothing more than the '<i>Arrey yaar' </i>English you use, will realize that all your books are- exempting, pardon me, the photograph of you on the back flap- the absolute same? I mean, at <i>least</i> try plagiarizing from someone else's work next time. Doing it from your own- especially when your raw material isn't spectacular- is unbearably narcissistic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm not asking for something better next time. No, I know better. But maybe, <i>maybe</i>, just to mix things up for your poor, addicted readers- you could try making the <i>musckul-man</i> hero Tamilian instead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
Love, always.</span></div>
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AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-40653376249358547872011-10-27T01:21:00.000-07:002013-06-26T20:44:00.841-07:00It is With the Deepest Regret.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Subject:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Termination of Services.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Pied Piper of Hamlin:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I find that your flute is an unnecessary waste of state economy, and a nuisance to local residents, no less. Besides, any instrument that does not get adults to follow you around, is played in vain.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">PS: I have grown-ups at my feet all the time. Have you ever seen a flute in my hands?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Gepedo:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And here they thought you were a good puppeteer. They were blinded by your absurdly sentimental story of transformation, weren't they? I have a better card to play. They call it a Foreign Passport. I don't need you anymore, because I can puppet far, far better. The trick, is to not let anyone know whose hands pull the strings. You know the rules. You're wooden puppet became a real boy? Well, I can swing it vice versa.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">PS: Try not to get so attached to your damn puppet next time.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ariel:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You are hereby banished to the ocean for the rest of your existence, for insulting the country's customs and sacred tradition by wearing clothes that I could only imagine you picked hastily off a beach. Also, you are not to get your voice back. I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't like people in my state having voices.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">PS: While you're at it, I'd also like your Prince. I can scream louder than you, now.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Thumbelina:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Run for your life. No, no reason. You're just really small, and I can squish you. That makes me feel powerful. So get away before it's too late.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The Fairy GodMother:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">No more magic for you. That's my turf. Hand over your wand.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anybody whose surname doesn't start with a 'G' like mine does:</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't like you. Boo-yah.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Your services have been greatly appreciated.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sincerely,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">S.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">(Note: This letter has been sanctioned by the Prime Minister's office with no prior influence, and free of personal or miscellaneous bias.)</span></div>
AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9009373559417075409.post-52903988362667663622011-10-20T04:54:00.000-07:002013-06-26T20:45:01.650-07:00Losing My Virginity<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's funny how different it feels to type out thoughts as you think of them, as opposed writing them on a piece of paper with an ancient ball pen like I'm used to doing.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And by different, I mean exasperating.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">To people who assume that computers come easy to everybody that touches them- Hi.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">You haven't met me yet. And you probably really shouldn't. What seems like a flutter-of-an-eyelid job to you, is more like an arduous, painful, mind-numbing task to me. (I'm still not entirely sure what to do after I'm done typing this.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What do I plan to write about? God knows I have no plan.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Never fear, millions of nonexistent readers, we shall get through this. But then, do I want to be one of the gazillion ambiguous blogs on the internet? 'Course not. Do I want to be one of those nouveau-famous writers, whose blogs thrust them into all things glitzy and Hollywood? Why not. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Either way, blogging seems to have been all the rage among computer and literary enthusiasts- sometimes just computer enthusiasts (if you've read some of the stuff out in the world, you'd know. Some poor bits even got accidentally- or serendipitously- published as books.), and it took me a long time to get around to it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Blame my innate hatred for all things fashionable, or multiple writer's blocks, I find typing <i>anything</i> out exhausting. Even three-sentence e-mails.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Truth is, I'm stupid with technology- which leads me to believe that everybody who can operate Word is a whopping genius- and blogging is the Number One way to uncover that. Although, if you ask me, I'm wont to say, with a fashionable (albeit pretentious) swish of my hair, that I'll get around to it when it gets tired of being so cool that it's nearly frozen.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Which is not what I did, of course.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just sat at the computer today, opened up this site and signed up. On an absurd whim. Like it is with most things I do.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And now, I'm typing what makes very limited sense and has passable entertainment value (Yes, computers crush my confidence quite supremely), and hoping that I haven't made any of the idiotic spelling errors I usually fall victim to when I confront a keyboard; and wondering about what in God's creation I'm going to keep writing about.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That is, of course, if anybody's reading.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Anybody?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'll never know. (Oh wait, blogs have 'hits', don't they? Ah well.)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the meanwhile, my ink is purple, and I'm enjoying it immensely.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<img src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcSm8lVEqri6l-TGYTbEO9AMtxTXUHuId4R8hSnvjgL7IATjKHM5" /></div>
AneeshaSpeakshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14113176005234107698noreply@blogger.com8