Paris Hilton has a new reality show on MTV. It's called My New BFF. It's about Paris Hilton looking for a new BFF. The contestants are 22 year old girls, competing to be Paris Hilton's new BFF. With every episode , Paris Hilton will eliminate a contestant , thus leaving the rest to be still in competition to become Paris Hilton's new BFF. All these girls will try their darndest best to be Paris Hilton's new BFF. At the end of the show, the last girl standing will be Paris Hilton's new BFF. A lot of viewers will tune in every week to watch this show about Paris Hilton and her soon to be new BFF.
I have no more to say.
Friday, October 24, 2008
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Our spot.
My best friend. She knows who she is. I know who she is. It's set in stone.
And she and me have our spots. Spot, special place, corners..call it what you will.
It all started at an advertising agency. Big , ugly chairs. Art directors, Copywriters,Client Servicing. Noise, brainstorming, chatter, deadlines. Copy, art, branding..all of that. Amidst all of that- us. And here, we made a connection. And left it at that.
Then there was a bus. A run down charter bus from Connaught Place to Noida. Cramped with sweaty office goers returning home from work, sleazoids trying to grope women, women trying to brush off those sleazoids, families with kids, college kids, shopkeepers, noise, sweat, grime. Defintely not the most conducive setting for getting to know someone.
And yet, amidst all that we would find a spot. And that would become our spot. For the next hour. Where we would talk. Office gossip. Boyfriends. Bosses. Break ups. College days. Here, we would get to know one another. One bus ride at a time.
Fast forward to 5 years later. Destiny interfered with us. I truly belive that. Because, completely unplanned, completely unexpected, completely unknowingly, we were there. At the same place. And we were meant to be there. To find again, our spot.
And find it, we did. In Tipusan ( and she'll get the drift here). Mattress on the floor against a wall in a medium sized living room which had a wash basin in a corner. Vodka, rum and coke, smokes. Painting, films, joints. Conversation. About life. About the struggles in life. Divorces. Marriages. Friendships. About the charter bus that ran between CP and Noida. About the advertising agency. Here, we were catching up. Here, we were also setting our friendship in stone. Here, we were realising that we were meant to be best friends. Realising that we were meant to be here.
Years passed. Stuff happened. Major stuff, minor stuff. Mostly major stuff. And then, another spot. This time, a more grown up, a more evolved, a more relaxed , a more " I get you" spot. A brightly colored jute chattai rolled out on a kitchen floor. Food on the kitchen counter. Vodka and lime. Rum and coke. No husbands. Kids in bed. Night time. Conversation. Conversation. And some more conversation. About marriage. About Women. Parenting. Love. Life. Kids. Family. Sibling. World cinema. Music. Friends. Fashion. Careers. the past. The present. The Future. Her life. My life. Our lives.
To be continued.
.
And she and me have our spots. Spot, special place, corners..call it what you will.
It all started at an advertising agency. Big , ugly chairs. Art directors, Copywriters,Client Servicing. Noise, brainstorming, chatter, deadlines. Copy, art, branding..all of that. Amidst all of that- us. And here, we made a connection. And left it at that.
Then there was a bus. A run down charter bus from Connaught Place to Noida. Cramped with sweaty office goers returning home from work, sleazoids trying to grope women, women trying to brush off those sleazoids, families with kids, college kids, shopkeepers, noise, sweat, grime. Defintely not the most conducive setting for getting to know someone.
And yet, amidst all that we would find a spot. And that would become our spot. For the next hour. Where we would talk. Office gossip. Boyfriends. Bosses. Break ups. College days. Here, we would get to know one another. One bus ride at a time.
Fast forward to 5 years later. Destiny interfered with us. I truly belive that. Because, completely unplanned, completely unexpected, completely unknowingly, we were there. At the same place. And we were meant to be there. To find again, our spot.
And find it, we did. In Tipusan ( and she'll get the drift here). Mattress on the floor against a wall in a medium sized living room which had a wash basin in a corner. Vodka, rum and coke, smokes. Painting, films, joints. Conversation. About life. About the struggles in life. Divorces. Marriages. Friendships. About the charter bus that ran between CP and Noida. About the advertising agency. Here, we were catching up. Here, we were also setting our friendship in stone. Here, we were realising that we were meant to be best friends. Realising that we were meant to be here.
Years passed. Stuff happened. Major stuff, minor stuff. Mostly major stuff. And then, another spot. This time, a more grown up, a more evolved, a more relaxed , a more " I get you" spot. A brightly colored jute chattai rolled out on a kitchen floor. Food on the kitchen counter. Vodka and lime. Rum and coke. No husbands. Kids in bed. Night time. Conversation. Conversation. And some more conversation. About marriage. About Women. Parenting. Love. Life. Kids. Family. Sibling. World cinema. Music. Friends. Fashion. Careers. the past. The present. The Future. Her life. My life. Our lives.
To be continued.
.
Soul feeding is what I'm talking about
Lots of layers..lots of volume...an hour out by myself...one happy me.
Soul feeding is all it's about. Stay focussed on staying happy. De-stress. Talk to your best friend. Laugh. Wear lipstick. And some silver. Detach. Attach. Flirt. Smile. Drink a good cup of coffee. Stretch. Tone. Crunch your abs. Love your body. Cook a mean curry. Celebrate. Read.
Whatever floats your boat.
As long as you know.
Soul feeding is all it's about. Stay focussed on staying happy. De-stress. Talk to your best friend. Laugh. Wear lipstick. And some silver. Detach. Attach. Flirt. Smile. Drink a good cup of coffee. Stretch. Tone. Crunch your abs. Love your body. Cook a mean curry. Celebrate. Read.
Whatever floats your boat.
As long as you know.
Girlie stuff
I'm going to get me a haircut today.
Toni and Guy , 1:30 pm.
Lots of layers, lots of volume.
Toni and Guy , 1:30 pm.
Lots of layers, lots of volume.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Today
So in the past, I would normally journal , on a bad day. If I was going through a bad phase, I would almost always turn to my diary. Vent, curse, boo hoo into the pages.
This time around, though, I decided not to do so. I shall write and I shall write- on good days, on bad days, through the happy phases and the not so happy phases. Because really, life's like that...mine, for sure.
So anyway, that thought I just had..while I was logging in...
This is really about today. A simple day.
And as I sat on my bed, with Gia fast asleep in my arms , wrapped snugly in the FabIndia blanket that Roohi has sent for her, and I watched "Eyes wide Shut", it just felt right. And there in that moment, I realised that my life is about this. About some moments feeling so good and others not so much. Today I am savouring the good ones.
This time around, though, I decided not to do so. I shall write and I shall write- on good days, on bad days, through the happy phases and the not so happy phases. Because really, life's like that...mine, for sure.
So anyway, that thought I just had..while I was logging in...
This is really about today. A simple day.
And as I sat on my bed, with Gia fast asleep in my arms , wrapped snugly in the FabIndia blanket that Roohi has sent for her, and I watched "Eyes wide Shut", it just felt right. And there in that moment, I realised that my life is about this. About some moments feeling so good and others not so much. Today I am savouring the good ones.
Monday, October 20, 2008
The world , as I see it , from the window of my apartment
Girl wearing blue skinnies, well fitting black jacket, high black boots, carrying a white umbrella. Walking in a hurry.
A long green truck, with 'Pizza Nova' written on it in bright red.
Dusko, the property manager, wearing a boring blue sweater, biege pants, brown leather shoes. Stands in conversation with a middle aged (slightly graying) man, wearing a black rain winter jacket with a red trim and white lining that peeks through the hood of the jacket. Dusko moves his hands a lot while talking. The man nodds a lot. Every now and then Dusko reaches into his pockets , yet pulls out nothing. Just lets his pocket warm his hand. The right hand. Does the left not need warmth, I muse.
Now a big white truck moves in . On the front of it, it says "Who cares when you are moving? We do" . Somewhere, a copywriter needs to be fired! Home Delivery by Avenue Moving. Someone is moving in.
Now Dusko is joined by his assistant. A very well dressed assistant. Chic. She's tall, has a well worked out body, dark black short hair tucked behind the ears ( a very no nonsense sort of haircut), fair skin. Today, she wears a burgundy tight fitting croppped jacket with a black pencil knee length skirt. Black opaque stockings and high heeled black boots. Black scarf wrapped around her neck. She obviouly dresses at leisure in the morning. Takes her time.
Something distracts me...Oooh, shocking purple. I see a shocking purple sweatshirt. It's too shocking and it's too purple. I do not even notice the person wearing it.
And now that my coffee is done, adieu, world from my window. Till the next time.
A long green truck, with 'Pizza Nova' written on it in bright red.
Dusko, the property manager, wearing a boring blue sweater, biege pants, brown leather shoes. Stands in conversation with a middle aged (slightly graying) man, wearing a black rain winter jacket with a red trim and white lining that peeks through the hood of the jacket. Dusko moves his hands a lot while talking. The man nodds a lot. Every now and then Dusko reaches into his pockets , yet pulls out nothing. Just lets his pocket warm his hand. The right hand. Does the left not need warmth, I muse.
Now a big white truck moves in . On the front of it, it says "Who cares when you are moving? We do" . Somewhere, a copywriter needs to be fired! Home Delivery by Avenue Moving. Someone is moving in.
Now Dusko is joined by his assistant. A very well dressed assistant. Chic. She's tall, has a well worked out body, dark black short hair tucked behind the ears ( a very no nonsense sort of haircut), fair skin. Today, she wears a burgundy tight fitting croppped jacket with a black pencil knee length skirt. Black opaque stockings and high heeled black boots. Black scarf wrapped around her neck. She obviouly dresses at leisure in the morning. Takes her time.
Something distracts me...Oooh, shocking purple. I see a shocking purple sweatshirt. It's too shocking and it's too purple. I do not even notice the person wearing it.
And now that my coffee is done, adieu, world from my window. Till the next time.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Shopping madness
So yesterday I was at Walmart. Not out of choice. It was necessity. We were out of toilet paper, paper towels, coffee, toiletries and I had held off the trip long enough.
So to Walmart we went. And like always, the trip completly depressed me. I returned with everything that I needed. And a fewthings that I did not- Irritability, a mall glazed look in my eyes, and an overload of consumerism.
And it all came from being in a place that has too much of everything. Stuff, stuff, and more stuff.
And it got me thinking this- when did we start needing so much stuff? And, really, do we need so much stuff?
Toiletries, for example. I counted at least 23 different kinds of bodywashes. And I hadn;t counted all. Bodywashes to suit every skin type, age, mood. To accomodate preferences of texture , smell, color. And not just to wash your body with. But to make your skin as soft as silk. And to exilarate. Exfoliate. Invigorate. Rejuvenate.
And Shampoo? Oh, the shampoo! For fine hair.
For oily hair. For dry hair. For fine hair that is oily. For fine hair that is dry. For fine hair that is partly oily and partly not.
For volume. For shine. For strengthening.
For strengthening and shine, but not volume. In case you already have volumnous hair.
For volume and strengthening, but not shine. In case you already have shiny hair.
For straight hair. Curly hair. Short hair, long hair.
For no hair , in order to grow hair. WOW!
Whatever happened to shampoo that simply cleaned the hair. And smelt nice. Period.
The onslaught of shampoo got to me and I hurried out of there. Coffee was next on the list and I figured that would be easy enough. Would have been, if I had only read the encyclopedia of coffees the day before. Medium roast, strong roast, light roast. Morning breakfast, french vanilla, hazelnut. Columbian, Jamaican, Starbucks (and that's not even a country.)
Oh my goodness, my mind screamed, all I want is a good cup of coffee to start my day. Can someone just label a package- a good cup of coffee to start your day. Honestly, that's all I want. A good cuppa coffee. And I am not shopper savvy enought to know whether that comes from Columbia or Starbucks or if it should be a medium roast or a strong roast.
I was done.
And so when my four year old asked to go to the toy section, I needed a minute to brace myself. For what I knew now would be a jungle. And a jungle it was. A mind numbing jungle of shelf after shelf of toys. Toys that children apparently need. Toys that parents apprently need to buy for their kids. To strengthen their eye hand coordination. To hone their motor skills. To develop their listening skills. Improve memory. Encourage imagination. Improve communication. Aid learning. Cultivate social skills.
Robots, transformers, cars, lego, magnetic logo, puzzles, blocks, magnetic blocks, rockets, guns, Spiderman, Superman, the Hulk, disney toys, Barbies, Kens, Barbies with Kens, dolls competing with Barbies, laptops, video games, hand held video games, travel toys, house toys, park toys, beach toys, toys for babies, toys for toddlers, toys for preschoolers, toys for big kids, toys for teenagers,...........
We came away with nothing.
Oh no, that's not right . We did come away with a seriously overwhelmed, overstimulated 4 year old.
Who, right now, as I write this, sits next to me , happily playing with two jars of play dough, that I picked up at the dollar store, and a wooden rolling pin from the kitchen.
And we did come away with a completely distraught, confused parent. Who is wishing that the toilet paper lasts and lasts and lasts . So the next trip does not come any time soon.
So to Walmart we went. And like always, the trip completly depressed me. I returned with everything that I needed. And a fewthings that I did not- Irritability, a mall glazed look in my eyes, and an overload of consumerism.
And it all came from being in a place that has too much of everything. Stuff, stuff, and more stuff.
And it got me thinking this- when did we start needing so much stuff? And, really, do we need so much stuff?
Toiletries, for example. I counted at least 23 different kinds of bodywashes. And I hadn;t counted all. Bodywashes to suit every skin type, age, mood. To accomodate preferences of texture , smell, color. And not just to wash your body with. But to make your skin as soft as silk. And to exilarate. Exfoliate. Invigorate. Rejuvenate.
And Shampoo? Oh, the shampoo! For fine hair.
For oily hair. For dry hair. For fine hair that is oily. For fine hair that is dry. For fine hair that is partly oily and partly not.
For volume. For shine. For strengthening.
For strengthening and shine, but not volume. In case you already have volumnous hair.
For volume and strengthening, but not shine. In case you already have shiny hair.
For straight hair. Curly hair. Short hair, long hair.
For no hair , in order to grow hair. WOW!
Whatever happened to shampoo that simply cleaned the hair. And smelt nice. Period.
The onslaught of shampoo got to me and I hurried out of there. Coffee was next on the list and I figured that would be easy enough. Would have been, if I had only read the encyclopedia of coffees the day before. Medium roast, strong roast, light roast. Morning breakfast, french vanilla, hazelnut. Columbian, Jamaican, Starbucks (and that's not even a country.)
Oh my goodness, my mind screamed, all I want is a good cup of coffee to start my day. Can someone just label a package- a good cup of coffee to start your day. Honestly, that's all I want. A good cuppa coffee. And I am not shopper savvy enought to know whether that comes from Columbia or Starbucks or if it should be a medium roast or a strong roast.
I was done.
And so when my four year old asked to go to the toy section, I needed a minute to brace myself. For what I knew now would be a jungle. And a jungle it was. A mind numbing jungle of shelf after shelf of toys. Toys that children apparently need. Toys that parents apprently need to buy for their kids. To strengthen their eye hand coordination. To hone their motor skills. To develop their listening skills. Improve memory. Encourage imagination. Improve communication. Aid learning. Cultivate social skills.
Robots, transformers, cars, lego, magnetic logo, puzzles, blocks, magnetic blocks, rockets, guns, Spiderman, Superman, the Hulk, disney toys, Barbies, Kens, Barbies with Kens, dolls competing with Barbies, laptops, video games, hand held video games, travel toys, house toys, park toys, beach toys, toys for babies, toys for toddlers, toys for preschoolers, toys for big kids, toys for teenagers,...........
We came away with nothing.
Oh no, that's not right . We did come away with a seriously overwhelmed, overstimulated 4 year old.
Who, right now, as I write this, sits next to me , happily playing with two jars of play dough, that I picked up at the dollar store, and a wooden rolling pin from the kitchen.
And we did come away with a completely distraught, confused parent. Who is wishing that the toilet paper lasts and lasts and lasts . So the next trip does not come any time soon.
Conversations
She:
I'm at a strange place. Constantly thinking. Introspecting.
Her:
About?
She:
Mostly me.
Her:
Aha. The 30's. Me, My self. Who I was, what I set out to be, what I have become.
She:
Who gets me? Who doesn't? How much I have given to another, and in doing so, what I have lost? Was it worth it? Is it worth it? Am I happy? Am I me?
Her:
I know. Me too. It's a 30's thing, I think. I feel this constant questioning in me, this quest for answers for questions, mostly about my self.
She:
It's like the other day when I was talking to him and I suddenly realised that he doesn't get me...after 18 years of being together. And yet , talking to you over the past hour, I think you do.
Her:
That, my dear, is a woman thing.
She:
And yet, he is meant to be my soulmate.
Her:
Or maybe not. It's what you percieved him to be. What he is stereotyped to be.
She:
So?
Her:
So what? He is what he is to you. But he cannot be all that. Make your peace.
She:
I think about my 20's. About being 20. I was like a leaf blowing in the wind. Happy to go where they took me . Excited to be where I landed. Go with the flow. Explore, experiment. It was all about movement. Change houses, move cities, countries, even. The newness was exciting. Everything was a challenge and challenge felt good.
Her:
And now, it's tiring.
She:
And friends. Everyone was a friend. Hang out with whoever I met. Social circles. The more , the merrier.
And now I am just weeding everyone out.
Her:
I understand. I also relate.
She:
And so, here I am , been there, done that and at the end of it, all I want is to belong. All I want is stability. I resist change.
I need roots. I want to trace back my steps. Back to my island.
A cosy home, a fire going, wine, music. A few friends. Good friends. Quality, not quantity. People I really want to know, not just hang out with.
Food being cooked, music playing, conversations, laughter, a herb garden, sitting out in the sun, reading. Simple stuff. Real stuff. No glam,no glitter, no fluff.
Her:
I get that. Completely.
She:
Is it just us? Is it age? Is it depression? It feels like the end?
Her:
It's us. And some more. Not everyone, though.
It's age. And the wisdom that comes with it.
It's definitely not depression. In fact, it's therapy.
And no, my dear, this is not the end. It's just the beginning.
What can I say? Welcome to the club.
I'm at a strange place. Constantly thinking. Introspecting.
Her:
About?
She:
Mostly me.
Her:
Aha. The 30's. Me, My self. Who I was, what I set out to be, what I have become.
She:
Who gets me? Who doesn't? How much I have given to another, and in doing so, what I have lost? Was it worth it? Is it worth it? Am I happy? Am I me?
Her:
I know. Me too. It's a 30's thing, I think. I feel this constant questioning in me, this quest for answers for questions, mostly about my self.
She:
It's like the other day when I was talking to him and I suddenly realised that he doesn't get me...after 18 years of being together. And yet , talking to you over the past hour, I think you do.
Her:
That, my dear, is a woman thing.
She:
And yet, he is meant to be my soulmate.
Her:
Or maybe not. It's what you percieved him to be. What he is stereotyped to be.
She:
So?
Her:
So what? He is what he is to you. But he cannot be all that. Make your peace.
She:
I think about my 20's. About being 20. I was like a leaf blowing in the wind. Happy to go where they took me . Excited to be where I landed. Go with the flow. Explore, experiment. It was all about movement. Change houses, move cities, countries, even. The newness was exciting. Everything was a challenge and challenge felt good.
Her:
And now, it's tiring.
She:
And friends. Everyone was a friend. Hang out with whoever I met. Social circles. The more , the merrier.
And now I am just weeding everyone out.
Her:
I understand. I also relate.
She:
And so, here I am , been there, done that and at the end of it, all I want is to belong. All I want is stability. I resist change.
I need roots. I want to trace back my steps. Back to my island.
A cosy home, a fire going, wine, music. A few friends. Good friends. Quality, not quantity. People I really want to know, not just hang out with.
Food being cooked, music playing, conversations, laughter, a herb garden, sitting out in the sun, reading. Simple stuff. Real stuff. No glam,no glitter, no fluff.
Her:
I get that. Completely.
She:
Is it just us? Is it age? Is it depression? It feels like the end?
Her:
It's us. And some more. Not everyone, though.
It's age. And the wisdom that comes with it.
It's definitely not depression. In fact, it's therapy.
And no, my dear, this is not the end. It's just the beginning.
What can I say? Welcome to the club.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Sadness
Such a powerful emotion!
Shandy passed away n her sleep last night. God bless her little soul. At least she didn't have to suffer pain. At least mom, dad didn't have to put her down.
Shandy- the last of our dacshunds.
Me. Not in a very good place today. I feel confused today. About where I am, what I am doing here, who I have become, who I want to be. About love, life, spouse, kids, friends, home, happiness, sadness, joy and all that.
But then , this too shall pass. Or shall it?
Shandy passed away n her sleep last night. God bless her little soul. At least she didn't have to suffer pain. At least mom, dad didn't have to put her down.
Shandy- the last of our dacshunds.
Me. Not in a very good place today. I feel confused today. About where I am, what I am doing here, who I have become, who I want to be. About love, life, spouse, kids, friends, home, happiness, sadness, joy and all that.
But then , this too shall pass. Or shall it?
Saturday, October 4, 2008
No more!
My previous post was , I think, the most honest post ever!All it said was crap! and I did want to write some more, but because of Gia getting fussy and moving around in my arms, somehow I hit the Publish Post button and therin was my blog.
But seriously, on some days,that's what it is! Crap.
And I don't want the crap. Call me spoilt....but seriously, no crap. Only good stuff.
But seriously, on some days,that's what it is! Crap.
And I don't want the crap. Call me spoilt....but seriously, no crap. Only good stuff.
Thursday, October 2, 2008
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