ON DAYS LIKE THIS...

When God invented women (sorry Darwin, I doubt we women 'evolved' from anything. We just happened. To the world. With all our wholesome complexities.) he invented one crazy acid trippy wonderland of emotional whatchamacallits. PMS is one of them. Today I will 'gank' anyone Dean and Sam style if they tell me PMS is imaginary or just another excuse to behave badly. Sorry but you don't have proof. And I do have PMS. And I don't like your face. Or pretty much anything else. And in this phase of glorious grotesqueness I shall behave badly and as often as I like. You cant do anything about it. I am going to be whiny and gripe-y and grumpy and you shall put up with it. The world is one bleak shade of blue and the paint guys won't show up for another five days.

The good news is it doesn't last. Sorry that's a lie. The bad news is it lasts. For however long I let it. And this blog post sucks. But you are reading it. That means you get to live. 

DOODLE DAY DIARIES

The day is a doodle...

Sometimes a lazy star

or a sun that's confused

it might be a curled up worm too

Maybe it's a house with funny windows

and flowers with loopy petals...

Sometimes its a random alphabet

that's been scurrying around the brain

It could be a Cheshire cat smile,

or you and me with sticks for arms and legs.

Cloud doodles waft across the day..

where randomness leaves its faint imprint

The day is a doodle...

A harum scarum scribble of thoughts

I leave behind on a piece of paper

That I will never see again

or

will find in a inky tumble and dry haze

in my pocket, on another doodle day

ON THE ANATOMY OF EXPRESSION

This is how I feel today...

And this is how you know how I feel today...

I told you expressly in 140 characters on Twitter. People responded. You tweeted back. A lot of people retweeted me because this is how they felt too, today, at this moment, about situations similar to mine.

It made me feel important. I may or may not have replied to you.

I immediately put up a status on my Blackberry.

I also took the trouble of sieving through my priceless collection of Dps (display picture) and chose an appropriate one to go with my status. You sent me a 'hug'. I 'hugged' you back. You may have put up a status of your own consoling me. It made me feel loved and wanted.

I put my feelings up for you to see on Facebook. You commented on it. It made me feel good. Sometimes nobody comments. I get only only one or two 'Likes.' It makes me wonder if my feelings are not good enough. I wonder if I should feel something else. Find a better situation to 'feel about'.

I may have told you about it when we met online. I used smileys to illustrate my point. You responded with similar emoticons. We pinged each other because that's what people who need to talk do these days...

This is how we emote in 2012. This is how we express ourselves. And look, now I wrote a blog post about it. So if you missed it on all the other platforms you caught up with it here...

Now you know how I feel today. Feel free to leave a comment.

ON MONDAYS AND SPILLING MY GUTS

Writing a blog is the opposite of having a 'dear diary' moment. Atleast for me. I don't want to have a luscious personal moment of verbal confession that everyone is going to read. Diary entries are voluntary. Mostly. Spontaneous. Just before you go to bed that is. And intensely personal. Mostly. Blogs seems more... planned. Less spontaneous. But maybe that's just me being old fashioned. I guess they are  meant to be a window into your world and that sorta thing. Except the anonymous ones. But I am too vain to be anonymous. 

Someone told me I should blog and in a moment of uncharacteristic obedience I got myself one. Now what I do with it? What am I supposed to say? What the hell do you want me to say anyway? Spill my guts out for your reading pleasure? Or offer sneakily self-obsessed insights into my little life? Or what I had for lunch, what it looked like, how it tasted. Maybe how I felt when I woke up this morning?.. Oh that I can tell you. I woke up with a bad case of Mondays... despite being gloriously unemployed, read writer... 

I haven't had a Monday in eight months. Atleast not the kind that has become fashionably cool to hate. And yet she tends to skulk around in my life like a memory I've pushed to that far end of my head that I don't normally visit. More on those kinda memories later. In another post.

But yes, a Monday happened to me today. One that pretended to be different but it was the day after Sunday nonetheless. Its airless Kafka personality made me sick. But I pretended all was well (it's one of my gifts, more on that later) and trudged on, not wanting to call in sick. I mean who calls in sick to life? The bitch isn't a very understanding boss. So one slightly unpleasant stagey encounter with a guy I used to know (his manager managed to wreck my car and she was on a Scooty. And she went to the police about it. I have to meet this girl. She seems very... forceful), yet another muggy bordering on sordid summer day, another weird encounter I'd rather not talk about, the vaguest response on earth to a work based query, and of course the intent of starting this blog. That sums up the day...

It has been a Monday allright... but I'll get over it. Not just now. Right now I want to sound smart but whiny, but sometime before the clock strikes 12. 

Also, I really had no clue what to write as a grand first entry in my blog. Profundity eludes me when I need it the most... I am used to it.

I promise you better blog posts... Not on Mondays though... Mondays suck.

Now am off to recover.