Embarrassment

As I sat down, the tiniest of movements made me flinch. I kept my eyes averted towards the pages littered on the desk in front of me. Every word was magnified hundred times, but I still could not comprehend what I was reading. The most insignificant of details popped up; I even noticed the swirls and whorls on the desk, and how beautiful they were. I was sitting as stiffly as a newly published newspaper. My hands gripped the chair, knuckles tight and white. At that moment, I would have given anything to turn back time for sixty seconds. Or almost anything.

No matter how hard I wished, the floor would not open up and suck me right in. I willed myself to evaporate or turn invisible, but in vain. I kept tucking the loose strands of my hair behind my ear, crossing and uncrossing my legs, trying my best to be comfortable. The air-conditioning felt like a blast from the Arctic. Goosebumps started erupting on my skin, and soon my hand was a miniature and alive version of bubble wrap. I was hoping nobody had noticed my faux-pas, but I wasn't that lucky. All eyes were on me, and it seemed as if everybody cared what I had to say. At other times, people don't give a damn, even if you shout and scream for attention.

The acknowledgement of my gaffe did it. All hell broke loose, or so it seemed. Sizzling heat erupted in my cheeks, and my blood vessels opened wide. Redness flooded in, and I could feel the heat moving towards my mouth in hot, strong strokes. I realized I was blushing. Extremely. The room felt smaller than usual, and claustrophobia kicked in. I put my hand on the right side of my face, creating a makeshift shield from prying eyes. The floor still refused to swallow me. My first instinct was to rush out of the room, away from this blunder. But practicality reminded me, it was just going to make matters worse. I gulped down an unusually large lump in my throat, resolving to pluck the courage for the next time. But my faux-pas's effects lingered for another forty-five minutes, and it was then that I was brave enough to come out of my shell and have a peep at the scary world.

Wishing For A Miracle In Vain

I know I can't have it. And I know the reasons why, but still there's a tiny part of me that can't help but want it. I yearn for it with all my heart, but I know it will never happen. Even hoping for it is in vain. Wishing for it seems like a waste of my wishes. And to top it all, the dreaming and the imagining hurts. Heartache has become a friend of mine, and I have become numb to it to a certain extent but I'm not immune.
Forgetting about it is not easy; and sometimes the smallest of things triggers the want. It can be a picture, an advertisement on the TV or perhaps a song. Wanting it has become a part of me; something that I can not let go of, however much I pretend or put on a brave face. I feel fragile and vulnerable if I choose to ignore or distract myself if I start wanting or wishing that it would happen.

It's something that the mundane part of my brain knows that even if I were one in a million, it still wouldn't happen. Because maybe it's not meant to be?
I don't have answers. Or I should say that I don't have answers which make sense to me or pacify me. Trying to get it out of my mind just makes me think about it even more, which leads to a bucketful of hurt. I like to lie to myself that I don't want it anymore; or I never really wanted it. But deep inside me, I know I always did. And maybe my whole life, however happy I am, I always will.
There can be nothing better than it. The comparison in my mind is prejudiced and judgemental. The scales are tipped to one side permanently. Even the flaws or cons don't seem that bad; they can be overlooked.
I like to tell myself that it would have been so easy and perfect. A perfect fit. Like a puzzle piece in a jigsaw, which fits in without any trouble.

I don't know the solution to this, because I really don't know what my problem is. Is it denial, self-pity, not being able to let go, or just plain day-dreaming? And I know that even talking about it won't give me any answers; no help will come my way. The sensible part of me laughs at the rest of me in mockery, that I'm building castles in the air. I like to sit in a corner, and just dream away sadly. Sitting like a piece of stone, silently hurting.
People say don't wish for things that just can't happen. But I believe in miracles.

Differences

It's quite surprising how often we neglect and ignore certain things that are part of our daily lives.We take them for granted, and not realize how much we'll miss their presence when they're long gone. The little things in life which make our face light up with a smile if often the most silliest; something which you'd not even be caught dead doing, but in a certain stroke of spontaneity we come forth from behind our imaginary guard and let it down.
It's quite similar when people consume copious amounts of alcohol. They would be doing the most silliest things, not having a care in the world and living their life how THEY want. But, it plagues my mind that why is the alcohol consumption necessary? Or, for the sake of argument, any other intoxicating substance.
Why can't we let our guard down, and be who we want to be without any other external influence? It feels as if we cover our self with a mantle of ordinariness and unremarkable-ness, trying to mingle in the crowd and not let ourselves be seen as different, or rather 'abnormal'.

For the sake of other people, and to try and fit in with the crowd, we let our inner aura smolder and wistfully burn away to ashes, than letting the flames touch the sky. Fitting in seems to be so important that we tend to let our opinions be shelved too, and parrot other's views just to feel alike.
It's a fact of life, and whenever we meet somebody new, we try to search for similarities rather than differences, and tend to judge the relationship compatibility of friends or lovers by that. It can't be overlooked, nor can it be changed. It's human nature; passed down from one generation to the next. However much I try, even I would want somebody whose as alike as me as it can be possible, but the fact remains that alike is not perfect.

Expecting the Unexpected

As I stare at the open sky above me, I can see the stars twinkling at me, as if they are sending a message to me in Morse code. It feels as if they are trying to tell me something, and I think my heart acknowledged it. I smile at them, and thank the higher power controlling us all.
Isn't it surprising sometimes when things fall into place like you could never have imagined? We go through every scenario a million times in our head, arranging and rearranging to make the jigsaw puzzle fit best. But when it does happen in reality, things take such an unexpected turn, blowing your mind away
It's so spontaneous and unplanned, yet turns out like it has been pondered over for months and every step has been given ample time of thought.
It makes us want to shake our head like a dog after a bath, raining droplets of water everywhere, so that we know we aren't dreaming. A sudden uneasiness and crumbling feeling starts in the deepest pits of the stomach, slowing making it way across the body to take over the mind and soul.
These unexpected, and unbelievable things happen so suddenly and leave us starstruck, that we keep checking and rechecking that it did really happen. There's another part of the mind, the practical one, which warns us not to go over-board in fear of our hopes being dashed. But temporarily you can't help it, and can't concentrate on other things even if you were on fire. I know if it were me, I would have welcomed the fire to lap away at me, too lost in the world of my dreams.
How does it happen? This unexpected yet unbelievably wonderful thing, which takes our breath away without any effort from our side. Aside from the fact that we tread carefully, as if we are walking on eggshells, waiting for them to break under our feet any second now.
It makes me think that this moment in time had something special about it. Was it the lucky moment of the day, when every thing you do turns out right, and you're invincible? If so, I need to find more of these. I got a long list waiting.

Despair in Black & White

There are some events or incidents that happen in our life that we can never forget. It maybe due to excess happiness or due to extraordinary grief remaining etched in your mind, never to be erased and uncountable backup copies saved. The feeling of hope-less-ness and numbness follows, circled around by despair and distress. The people who suffer or are involved can never let go, however hard they try, or however many years pass by.
Fate plays a trick and it's such a good and seasoned player, that no one can ever outwit it. It keeps you wondering at night that why? Everything in your life comes to a complete stand still, as if the time itself has been frozen. But as people say, life goes on. And it's true, because nobody stops for nobody. A few days, people bother to shower attention or sympathize, but then everybody gets busy with their own lives. And I for one, don't even blame them. They can't help it, and I know if I was in their shoes, I would do the same, or maybe a bit worse.
Falling down is the easy part, but getting back up again is tough. It requires all the effort in you, crushing you in the process. But only few people get through it. Most die, rhetorically speaking. I feel as I am hovering on the edge somewhere too. At times, I feel that it can't be helped but then a spark in life makes me think it could have a hundred times worse. I can still survive.

Looking at the bright side of things is difficult; the sun hurts the eyes, and we often block the rays with our hands, choosing to remain shrouded in the aura of disappointment and depression. But I have realized that even one smile makes a difference. Nothing significant at the time, but with time each little comes together to make up something huge.
I don't know what to do, or what not to do. There isn't exactly a guide book or a how-to book for getting over things. And when the things keep recurring in your dreams, or rather nightmares, I'm sure that deep inside mentally I will never get over it. I want to try, but I feel it will be in vain.
It's not easy, but I am trying. They say it gets better with time. They lie.

Get Well Soon, Bitch

It's so disturbing and so disconcerting about how much people care what others think about them, or what they view them as. It seems as if the mirror now has a way to voice its opinions. But mostly, it's the ugly truth. Or is it?
When we look at the mirror, why is it human nature to always look at the flaws first than to appreciate the beauty being reflected back? It's something which happens with every soul out there, because apparently nobody is good enough for anyone. And if the occasional optimist has the sunny nature and the outlook to positively point out the beauty, then he/she is labelled as being an unrealist, or in other words, in need of a reality check, and STAT.
But the real situation here is that why do people care about others? Is it just something as mundane as day to day gossip, or is it of a more sinister nature? Today, I was enlightened from an inside source that it might be more than just to past the time.
It's called being a pathological and psychological disorder, highly compulsive in nature. It takes root from being highly unsatisfied with their own lives, and in drastic need of spice to brighten up their boring and hum-drum days. The possibility of envy also arises, but it's quite confusing as they quite blatantly shun yet desire it. Is that possible? Maybe for pathological and psychological disorderly people, it indeed is.
What really surprises me is that when people spout off things without thinking, they don't realize and take a look at themselves. It's quite pathetic, but we should pity them. After all, they are sick, aren't they? Suffering from this isn't easy at all, or so I've heard. Obsessively concentrating on other people's in's and out's must be quite exhausting, and requires a lot of willpower, but these people already have weak minds from the disorder, so it must be doubly tedious.
I'm full of pity and sorrow at their condition, and it makes me feel guilty. If only I could do something to help them. I could keep providing them amusing stories and anecdotes to ease their minds, or I could pick out a get well soon teddy bear and TCS it to them.
I think the former idea is the better one, but the teddy bear just might make their condition better. Sympathy's a big healer, isn't it?

Art of Lying

Lying is an art. It's something that shouldn't be under estimated, because it requires a specific sort of talent and certain skills. Whether it's just a little white lie, or something that deceives someone blindly, everybody cannot lie successfully. Lieing means telling somebody a story with such a straight face and confidence, that the person doesn't even get the slightest idea that it might be untrue and has no notion except to believe it.
Lieing requires you to be quick-witted, and to think up of other lies to cover your original lie with a snap. To be quick on your finger tips, without any hesitation means you already have thought of any problems coming your way when the lie is told. All this pre-planning and thinking is not easy, and definitely not for everyone. That's why usually we catch people when they lie, or we suspect them.
The basic key to lieing is to be confident, and not even let a whisper of worry on your face. Any physical signs will give you away, such as fidgeting with your clothes, or scratching. Looking the person in the eye is highly important. Looking away is a sign of embarrassment or untruth. Or just plain suspicion.
Spouting off lies might seem easy, but keeping track of them ain't at all. The easiest trap to fall into while lying around is to tell people different stories. Never do that. Keep it same, and remember it. The next time you're told to repeat it, and you tell a slightly different version, you're caught. And your lying career is done for good, and down the drain.
Also, don't tell your fantasy lies to everyone. It just makes it even more suspicious. Tell them to few selected people, whom you know for sure are bound to spread it around and might exaggerate it a bit too. When it comes back around to you, you have the opportunity to correct the person and tell the 'real true' version of how it went down.
Be subtle about your adventures; don't be over-excited. Some people don't believe it if it's too far-fetched. Try keeping it real, and possible. Telling a lie about how you were visited by a dragon ain't gonna get you nowhere, dude.

Weird Friend Requests

Facebook has welcomed me with open arms to the people of the world. I get to interact with all kinds of people all over the world, and sometimes meet new people with whom I share a interest. But it is so very sad, that the kind of people whom I come across are the weirdos. If I go looking for one, I might end up finding 86,000 or however many my Face book search is capable of searching in one go.
The lame friend requests that we all get from people whom we barely even know, or thank my lucky stars, have not had the opportunity to even meet are numerous. Then there are those who just randomly add people, thinking that maybe they'll get lucky and the person will add them back. Their personal message would go something like this, 'I don't know you, but would you like to be friends?' The particularly funny and desi ones just have the famous phrase, 'Would do FRANDSHIP with me?'.
Another group of weirdos that have recently cropped up are those who pretend they know us, and have fallen irrevocably in love. They have looked near and far, and finally their search has found it's fruit. All this is usually described in about 150-200, written in flawless and flowery language. The first time I got such a request, I was dumb-founded, because that guy claimed to have seen me in a wedding. Then a few days later, another friend request came, with the same exact message. My response was to stare at my computer screen and roll my eyes, and mumble, "Dumb ass".
The worst friend requests according to me are those who don't even put up their own pictures as their display. It seems as if a flower or a heart has tried to be my friend. Immediately that flower/heart is blocked. Or those people, who put up Bollywood actors or actresses photos as their displays. I mean, I'm not that dumb that I would believe that Salman Khan or Shahid Kapoor has added me, lucky me!
Sometimes, I am forced to come to the conclusion that people don't bother to use their minds, or even pre-plan anything. I mean, just take a minute and then stalk that person. Maybe your stalker fetish will bear fruit. Who knows? It's all about luck. You might come across a dumb blond who just might believe you and your deliberate lies.

Haunting

Is it possible to die of despair? The misery eating away at the insides of the body, slowing biting and chewing, making us feel anxious and harried. After the body, the soul will get eaten up, and maybe I wouldn't even be able to come back and haunt the people who have caused me this misery. That's a real bummer, it really is. If I could come back from the dead, and given a chance to haunt somebody till I get peace, I would jump at it.
Making weird swooshing sounds in their ears, and whispering non-sensible words right behind their shoulders would be so much fun. Driving them crazy, and making them go insane would be my MO. I would open their doors and windows, and everytime they get up and close it, I would open them right back as soon as they turn their backs. In the middle of the night, the 'bump' noises would be epic, and the tree-branch scratching at the window pane would be my master-piece. Dripping blood drops at random places in front of them, and making the disappear in a couple of seconds would scare the hell out of them. And of course, how can I forget the traditional 'boo'?
Moaning and moping around their house at midnight with chains trailing behind me, making big clunky noises is also on the top of my list. Making the shower head pour red-coloured water, and appearing in the mirror as my true self for just a flash would make them realize who's haunting them. And if the idiot still doesn't realize why I am haunting them, or maybe doesn't remember my face, I would try the whole white noise experience. Send them cryptic e-mails, and make their electronic gadgets dance to my tune, while the phone would be ringing off the hook. Or maybe snail-mail would also work to let them know.
After I've had all my fun, and they're on the brink of calling a ghost whisperer or a exorcist, I would walk into the Light, and be on my way.

Over-Thinking

Has it ever occurred to you that the more we think about something, the more confusing the dilemma becomes? The answer seems even more unreachable, and new complications arise instantly. The time spent pondering over something is directly proportional to the complexity of the situation, of course. But it creates unnecessary confusion. The never ending train of thought keeps belching out steam, shining in all it's scarlet red glory. The brain keeps its cogs whirring and spinning, wasting not even a single moment, almost to the brink of damage or in other terms, unhealthiness or mental retardation. Exhausting the brain to such an extent that we start imagining things out of the realm of practicality and logic, this constant going over the same problem over and over again, doesn't really give us any answers. It only leads to various obstacles which weren't evident before.
Over thinking something just makes us go crazy. That's pretty obvious. Usually our problems don't really have an answer. The solution is to wait and see what happens. But that's the root of the problem. Patience is lacking in almost everybody, and I'm someone who would rather go out of their mind than wait patiently hand on hand expecting stuff to 'happen' itself.
Patience is a virtue. Whoever said that must have been a genius, yet an impatient person. Because he realized the importance and the value of it, and how it solves huge problems without the slightest bit of effort or force. It actually gives you inner peace and calming, soothing sensations. Sounds so perfect, doesn't it? But the truth of the matter is that it's something given to you by nature; by default. You can't achieve patience through yoga or breathing Lamaze exercises. It's just something so natural, like a talent; a God-given gift. At times, I feel as if what would I not give to have a bit of patience in exchange. But then, my over-active imagination stirs up from it's slumber, and creates quite a huge list. Well, I will just stick with over-analyzing. Much safer, it is.

Hope Bubble

A bubble of hope in a sea of endless still water stands out like a beacon flaring with all its might, attracting attention from everywhere. It's as if millions of signboards and arrows have been erected to point towards its location. It becomes unnoticeable, and can be seen from far off, even with poor eyesight. It stands out like a sore thumb against the stillness and dreary solitude all around. And even when it will pop due to some disturbance, the sound will be echoed, bounding from every surface imaginable. The sound will linger and resound in the air until it dies, making sure it washes over everything else, clearing away the residue.
This bubble is my hope bubble. It's so delicate and fragile, yet so beautiful and radiant like the sun. It's warmth and glow is so over-whelming that considering it's tiny structure, it still manages to make a difference. The bubble is transparent; so naive and see-through. The dreams which float around in it are not rational or practical. They are just figments of imagination, with a sprinkle of reality and the best results mixed together. The transparency reflects the colours of the rainbow, and signifies a bright, colourful future, filled with happiness. The light, airy texture keeps it away from the worries of the world. It has no regard for the problems or the obstacles to be faced. It exists for itself and itself only. This is the extra-ordinary nature of hope, which flares bright in each heart like a flame, but can be symbolised by a bubble.
The beauty of the bubble also exists in its destruction. If it's popped or pricked with a sharp needle or pointy edge, it will burst and cause hurt that will be hundred times more epic than the bubble's complexity. The sharp object can be symbolised with pride, envy, gluttony, and greed. In short, most of the seven deadly sins. The fragile nature of the bubble makes it entirely too sensitive against such things. And as it's a beacon and a sparkler, it causes such things to affect it more, attracting them significantly. Yet, even if it's popped, another bubble can appear after a while, a bit stronger and more beautiful than the previous expired one. It's knows its obstacles and hurdles, so it will try to avoid them because it does not aspire to have an unfortunate existence like the one of it's passed away kin. It burns brighter than ever, giving out the radiance of extra-ordinary levels, letting everyone know to not despair, because the hope bubble yet still lives.

Pain

I'm talking about the physical kind; the mental pain is too vast a topic to be covered by me right now.

Tiny stabs of pain shoot across my leg. It's like a flash of lightening, so sudden yet so unforgettable, leaving it's after-effects lingering. Each cell in my leg responds to the pain, and there is nothing I can do. The nerves are so sensitive that even a tiny movement triggers yet more pain. It feels as if white-hot knives are being repeatedly stabbed into the leg all the way to the hilt. And then it's pulled out again, just to be stabbed again with seemingly more force than before. A sudden clamping down of the area with my hands relieves me of the pain, but the forceful grip hurts too. But the relief is momentary, only lasting till the area is numb. As I remove the grip, blood starts flowing through the veins bringing lava like pain with it. It starts again; with a surly vengeance.
Soon, after a couple of hours, the pain seems to numb down, or is it just that I am used to it by now? The pain is a part of me, and it becomes easier if I embrace it, rather than strive to separate it, which will be in vain obviously. Sleep takes over, making the body system go to auto-pilot, giving the nervous system a temporary break, as it is so exhausted, it refuses to even recognize the pain shooting through the leg. It's not never-ending, of course. But the few hours it lasts, are worth a hundred hours of pain.

Dreams

Since the past two three days, I've been quite busy dreaming. And I've been dreaming BIG. After all, anyone can dream about anything, right? As children, we dream of princesses and castles. Wanting a big mansion of a home, with a handsome prince by the side is happily ever after, just like in a Barbie movie. Pretty dresses and looking beautiful is essential, of course. Some fantasy creatures such as winged horses or a Pegasus pops in from time to time. Evil step-mothers or witches put in appearances too. But in the end, it HAS to be a happily ever after. There isn't any doubt whether everything will be set right or not. But in the real life, sadly, it is not so.
As we grow up, our dreams and aspirations change from being based on fantasy to practicality. We dream of money, careers and getting that high-rise apartment on the 100th floor. We dream of travelling the world, meeting people, being famous and earning enough to spend without even hesitation. All this of course is possible, but impossible at the same time. It isn't basically fantasy, yet in a way it is. Having all this in reality would be nothing but short of a dream. Just too good to be true. We all are aware of this, but still we dream, and keep dreaming bigger and bigger each day as we discover new things. Hope is hand in hand with dreams. We have hope that someday this dream might come true, and for some people, that does happen.
Giving up hope, and being miserable is never going to get us anywhere. But dreaming, hoping and trying might get us at least half-way there. Something is better than nothing, right?

Disappointment

Expectations hurt and everybody knows that already. I'm not going to get on the same old band waggon and write about how people disappoint you and how much we get hurt. I'm looking on the flip side. All the expectations that people have from us, and then we disappoint them. This other side has never been looked upon before. It's always about us, and not them. No one cares about all the hurt which we give to the world.
There are various expectations connected to us by our families, friends and even strangers. But it always feels like it has never been able to be fulfilled. Something is always missing. The done is ignored, and the undone is evident. The flaws are found; the imperfections prominent. The completion is never acquired, or so it seems to me. Nothing is ever perfect.
That disappoints me. I may not be perfect of course, but I sure am not that worse for wear either. But then why does it feel as if everything I do is always wrong? And if, by a miracle somehow, no fault is picked out, I'm surprised. I've become accustomed to be criticized, and maybe I do deserve it. But all the time is just not possible. How can every single little thing be imperfect?
I try to paint my world with the colours of optimism, but sometimes the paint dries in the tubes. And my paintbrush can only paint strokes of faded colours. A feeble attempt at colouring up the easel; my world. Yet, at times, even those strokes turn raspy and the crackle of a dried paintbrush is all you can hear which gives nothing but misery.
Optimism is a tall, cool drink; refreshing and slender. But disappointment is the heat which makes it go lukewarm and unattractive. The condensation drops on the cool surface of the glass evaporate as quickly as a sigh of disapproval make your brightness vanish. It is unavoidable and the answer is to ignore and let go, but at times it reverberates in your mind like sound waves crashing against a gong. Redundant and increasing in momentum, the criticism covers all other aspects of life which radiate happiness and warmth.
After a few hours, it goes away, but the damage is lasting. It's inscribed in the brain as a memory, never to be forgotten, but to be compiled in the Book of Disappointments. The heart feels heavy, and the lips crack to even fake a smile. Nothing seems to really matter any more. But the worst part is, it cannot be set right. What is once done, cannot be undone, however deep the regret or remorse. But hope is eternal, and it will strive to go higher than before, but only to crash harder the next time. But in my defense, there is only one thing that I can say:

After all, I'm only human. And that's my saving grace.

Contentment

Sometimes, something, somewhere seen or heard, can make you think. It can make you reflect on everything you've ever done in your life. It makes you look back on even the tiniest of actions that you've carried out. But most importantly why you ever did those things. What made you do them? Was it just a random act due to boredom and lack of sense? An act committed to add some spice and excitement in your life. Or, was it something you did because you meant it? You wanted the exact same thing, and you couldn't settle for anything less. Looking back makes me realize that most of the things I did were just-because, but the ones I meant for them to happen were epic. The just-because were open-ended. I left it on Fate to let it build, and take it anywhere. The concept of 'let's see what happens' put in effect here. And some of those turned out to be things which I would never ever forget in my life. A small thing done without any reason or worrying about its consequences.
There are a couple of things that I would want to change in my life, but who doesn't? As they say, nobody's perfect and nor are their lives. But we cannot. Time-machines only exist in movies, books or in secret government laboratories which do not allow us access. We are only left with remorse, guilt and a bucket full of regret. But yes, it all is worth the experience. This way, at least you won't ever regret not doing it.
But, for one minute, just stop thinking about everything and pretend you are going to die tomorrow. Would you be satisfied, and accept it? Not worry about all the things you never had time to do? Just be peaceful and serene? I don't think so.
The last moments will be spent in a tizzy probably hyper-ventilating. Because you can never have enough. Ever. Because happiness is hard to get. It is something that is overlooked, yet its most important. The key to happiness is lost in the garden of Eden. And I, for one, have finally stopped looking for it.

If I die young,
Bury me in satin,
Lay me down on a bed of roses,
Sink me in the river at dawn,
Send me away with the words of a love song.

I am content, because if I think of all the things that COULD have gone wrong when they didn't, my life doesn't seem bleak or even miserable. It's pretty good. And it can always get better, but it can get worse too. To enjoy what you have now  is the best way. Because one day in the future, you just might not have it.

Bradley Cooper Hotter Than Ever

I think we all are familiar with who Bradley Cooper is. Apart from being in many amazing movies such as Wedding Crashers, Failure To Launch, Yes Man, New York; I Love You, He's Just Not That Into You, The A-Team, Valentine's Day and Limitless, he's the star of the Hangover movies, part 1 and part 2. The Hangover movie and its sequel both have been so highly successful that every single person just HAD to watch them. And those who haven't seen it yet, you should do it STAT.

So, Bradley Cooper plays the part of Phil in the movies and is of course, an amazing actor. He's got the looks, the hair, the voice AND the acting prowess. He's one of those ruggedly handsome manly-men, who make our heart skip a beat. But recently I discovered one more talent that Bradley Cooper's got which makes him hotter than ever. He can speak French! Not just broken French, but fluent smooth French. French is the language of love, and nothing can be more romantic or sexy than this. It literally made many women swoon all over the world when they heard him speaking French in an interview on a French channel for the promotion of his Hangover 2 movie. It's been the latest buzz all around the Internet, and the video has been spiking up ever since. Even if you don't speak French, or know nada about it, you will FEEL the connection. Check out the video. It's worth it, because he's looking so ruffled and hot.

Insomnia

Its the middle of the night, and I'm wide awake. I couldn't sleep, and blogging has become the same kind of addiction which it was me before. Or, it could be that I'm just plain bored. But, whatever. We'll go with the blogging-is-my-addiction story; it has a better feel to it.
Time seems to have frozen, and come to a stand-still. That might be due to the fact that my wall-clock has stopped due to the power of the cells being used up.
People had been going on and on all day about the heat wave, and how it was so deadly hot outside. It sure doesn't feel THAT hot to me. Kudos to my air-conditioner for doing a pretty good job.
Sleeping doesn't feel like a good idea. The idea of nightmares is dominant on my mind. I plan to completely exhaust myself before finally sleeping so I can have a dream-less sleep.
The morning will bring with itself Friday morning, and Rebecca Black has to come in the same sentence with Friday. Listening to Rebecca Black's Friday on a Friday is a must. She promises fun, fun, fun, fun for the weekend! So 'lookin forward to the week-end, week-end'.

Commitment

The picture above is of a love-lock monument. People believe that for ever-lasting love, a lock should be marked with the couple's initials or names and locked onto the monument. But the key to that lock should be thrown away, never to be found again. This is a sign of commitment; deep, true and sincere. The prospect of getting yourself 'locked' with someone forever may be frightening for some, but the picture says it all. Millions of people follow this tradition, and get themselves 'locked' after entering into a serious relationship. This picture is of a monument to love in China, but similar awe-inducing structures can be found all over the world in places like Riga, Rome, Hungary, Zhangijiajie, Estonia, Guam, Sicily, Latvia, Russia, South Korea and USA.
Being with the same, old boring person all your life does not make sense to some, yet there are those who know of no other way. Its supposed to be this way; no matter what. Some portray themselves as commitment-phobic, but deep inside they're just waiting for the right person to come along.
But what about those who are afraid of getting into a relationship? Afraid of jumping head-on into something more complex than rocket-science? I pity them. If you never do something, you'll always regret it your entire life. The 'what-if' will keep hammering at your head like a ghoul. If you don't take the risk, how can you know what you're going to miss?
And giving lame excuses such as
a) not having enough time
b) being obsessed with work
c) not knowing the 'how-to' of relationships
d) portraying yourself as confused (when you're really not)
AND
e) being a total loser
also count as being commitment-phobic. Or, being a major a-hole.

In A Trance

Sitting on the sand, with the waves splashing playfully at my feet, I look up towards the sky. The setting sun casts its orange glow on the surrounding landscape. The world seems to have the Midas touch for a few minutes. Everything the sun's rays touch, turns to gold. The sky itself, is a tinted orange and yellow hue, progressing towards twilight each moment. Each second ticks by, and I keep gazing at the sky, drinking in the sights, pouring each drop into my body, mind and soul. The birds circling overhead do not amuse me. They feel like predators hunting for their prey. But in fact, they're heading home. My senses over-ride the frightened feeling, and concentrate on the cool, calming effect of the surf, foam and the waves.
The swish-swish of the waves is said to be psychologically soothing. It creates a mental brick wall around your mind, keeping the worries and the bad thoughts at bay momentarily. The mind focuses on nothing but the rush of the water, giving a sort of adrenaline-high. Like pheromones or aphrodisiacs, but of course on a very low level.
I stand up, with the wind whipping at my face, like cold blunt knives. But I seem to enjoy it. My bare feet are covered with wet sand, seaweed and other debris from the sea, but I don't mind. I start walking along the shore, just a few feet away from the waves. My footprints remain imprinted in the sand, like a memory long forgotten, or a faded postcard from the past. The world seems to have a hazy quality about it.
Twilight has finally fallen. The stars have come out from their heavy blanket; the velvety sky. The twinkling stars give a sad and morose vibe, and I can feel it in my bones. It's like an omen of something bad. A lone howl echoes along the beach, signifying someones pain or grief. But it's animalistic in sound, yet feels human and relatable. The moon casts its light down on Earth, playing hide and seek with the clouds. A moment of complete and utter darkness, and then of pale, other-worldly light.
The trance-like state I am in tells me that this is nothing more than a dream. Yet it carries all the weight and meaning there ever is.

Smile



My kinda smile.



Smile. Such a simple word, but does it hold its true meaning anymore? No, it doesnt. We dont smile quite often in the day, and even if we do, its for the wrong reasons. Laughing at someone's misfortune doesnt count, you know. Thats just natural.
What should make me smile? Flowers, raindrops, smell of coffee in the air, freshly baked bread/cookies/brownies, chubby babies, an A+, a compliment, likes on my status/pictures, another smile, ice-cream, purpleade, my BFF, my tragedies (ironic smile), when i relate to a song, when somebody asks about my last name, akcent, the colour blue, clouds, whipping wind, harry potter (not the movie one), boys, pizza, stilettoes, clutches, when I prove to be right about something, the smell of paint, painting my nails red, and the list will go on..
But the thing is, even if I have these things placed before me, I dont smile. Why? Because the shadow of the gloom still hangs over me. It over-powers the happiness of it. A watery smile is all I can muster up. Practicing smiling in front of the mirror, like they tell us to do in the movies, does NOT work. Its pretty fake. And your gums show. Practicing a real smile doesnt come up to scratch either.
What could be the one thing that can make me smile without any doubt? Come Hell or high water, it WILL make me smile. I thought about it a lot. Pondered, reflected, contemplated. You know, all the thought-y words. Induced all thought provoking strategies. And I got my answer.
Chocolate. My friend. My haven. My home. My savior. My everything.

P.S. Its a good thing I dont have the tendency to get fat because of stuffing my face with chocolates.
P.S.S As an after-thought, this song's been making me smile a lot these days. Is it a co-incidence its titled 'Smile'? And that its by Avril Lavigne?

Evil

Evil takes root very quickly. Once it's seed is sown, it is very hard to remove it. Evil captures your mind, like crones, with stick like hands, waiting to grab you from the shadows. It always reminds me of bare trees in winter. So bereft and lonely, without even a single leaf to give it some warmth, life or colour. Hatred must have made the tree go mad with grief. Its branches are just waiting to swoop down on some unsuspecting innocent fellow going down the road. Creeps you out, doesn't it?
Being good is difficult. But becoming good after being bad is the worst. You can seem to never go back. You can try with all your MIGHT, but its just impossible. Why is that so? Have you been sucked in so deep that the prospect of getting out of its pull has become a dream? Its something that has the strongest lure, and is always the most attractive. It literally plucks at your heartstrings, making you drool for it. The temptation becomes too hard to resist with time. Often, it will seem as something as quite harmless and innocent for the do-er, because it's just one more tiny step away from GOOD. But in fact, all those tiny steps make up quite a long road. The road less travelled, as some say.
It makes me wonder, how does someone save their soul from such a dilemma? Is there no way out? Even God seems to ignore you at times, because He knows you're quite amused and busy with Satan. Trying to be good once in a while takes so much effort that the next time, it makes you think twice of doing it. Is it an addiction? Something which you can't let go of? Perhaps just like smoking or drinking. How people struggle with quitting, but only few are successful. Being bad is an addiction, too? These thoughts haunt my mind, leaving me struggling with more doubt than ever. Never providing any answers but plying me with more questions.
Soon, evil will make such a deep and permanent place that even my conscience wont be awakened on the usual. It will be a way of life. There wont be any need to contemplate, and definitely no thought of going back from where you came from. Good will become an illusion, and bad the reality. And I'm not sure I'm ready to face bad as the reality...

Peaches & My Paper

I woke up today, feeling dazed and a bit blurred around the edges. Sleepless nights do that to me. After about two hours, I realized that I hadn't had breakfast yet. A search in the kitchen was fruitful (pun intended), because my forage gave me two peaches. As I was thinking of HOW to consume these two peaches with the least possible hassle, mess and time being wasted, I was suddenly struck that my English paper had a listening on the topic of 'Peaches'.
At that time, I had numbly concentrated all through the listening, focusing on catching every single word being said. At that time, the thought had registered in my mjind that couldn't these people come up with a better or interesting subject?
I mean, who really cares about peaches? Peel them and eat them. The end. I mean, what more do you want?
But haunted by boredom and the prospect of mindlessly flicking TV channels to kill the time, made me actually think back and reflect upon it.
Peaches are nutritionally good of course, but what really caught my fancy was the peel. Felt like velevet but at the same time, I could feel the texture under my fingertips. Fuzzy yet smooth. I guess when they say 'you have skin like peaches', or 'her skin was peaches and cream', they mean it as a quite astute compliment.
Next time, I hear or read that somewhere, I'm definately going to envy the girl. And if its a guy being talked about, I will just assume he's gay and uses lots of mosturizers.