Etc.

“I love writing but hate starting. The page is awfully white and it says, "You may have fooled some of the people some of the time but those days are over, giftless. I'm not your agent and I'm not your mommy. I'm a white piece of paper, you wanna dance with me?" And I really, really don't.”
-Aaron Sorkin

The page is blue. I want to write. And dance. And whatever other comparisons that Aaron guy thinks of. I have nothing to write about! Nothing consequential that is. I can write about the suitable boy business but that will upset the majority of the readership of this blog, so silence reigns golden. Chronicling the mundaneness of existence has never fascinated me. Or so it is for every self-respecting blogger to say. Vehemently proclaim to all and sundry would be more accurate. *smirk*

I am getting good at the snide comments, ain't I? If only they offered a Master's in that. Since they don't I shall settle for undisputed leadership. Ha! Self-love. Glorious, glorious self-love. Anyway, rambling on. Home and associated definitions have been playing on my mind for a while now. The absence of a feeling which could gravitate me towards one point in this rough and tumble world of ours strengthens my resolve to find where the heart resides. Home has often found itself a good camping spot there. Currently, the heart resides in unfinished books and incomplete diaries. It definitely longs for sev-puri and an i-pod.

Entrusting myself with the monumental task of writing a song. I really do want to write one. Inspiration, I command thee to strike me! And strike me hard when you're at it.

Choice is rapidly becoming my metric to measure success, luxury, satisfaction, fortitude, character. Choice is also creating turbulence in what appeared to be the near perfect flow of the course of my life. Apparently there was/is a movie by the name of "From Bombay to Bangkok". The prospect of subjecting myself to dim-witted songs arbitrarily integrated or simply added to reach the 3 hour mark quashes whatever minimal interest the title generated.

The bills from my last official visit seem to be overflowing. They aren't enticing enough for me to quit doing everything else to submit them. The most fascinating to-do item I can think of is sitting by my window and doing nothing. The most necessary one is sleeping. The most satisfying writing. Or maybe losing the extra weight.

A lot of untied ends. Watched the movie, "Happy Endings" some time back. Irony - that which always, always hits hardest should replace what presently fills the dictionary. The movie is a good exercise to learn the same. On that note - adios!

And remember, nightmares are just that - bad dreams. You get up and plod on just like you would for a regular dream.