Of Peace

I sometimes think about the comfort of my little corner here on the internet. I won’t lie and say ‘often’, for you guys will catch me lying, and this is the sort of place I could tell the truth without having the need to please. Which is a contradiction, for in all performance (and writing is a performance), if you don’t have a sense of desperation about you, if you feel no need to please, why, you may as well not do it. If you want to do it, you want to do it well,

What the Actual Hell!

I’m sorry for all those who read and received several blog posts from me on their Reader in the past hour or so. They were all drafts from the past several years that got accidentally published. I’ve NO CLUE why.

Of Treating Yourself

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Yeah, so tomorrow’s my birthday. Again. I’ve reached that age when I no longer want to tell anyone what it is. Mentally, I feel younger, and physically, I feel we could (sometimes) add 945 to that.

Of Allergies

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I have a f***ed up immune system. Yeah, the snot’s so high up my face, I can’t be bothered with writing a classier opening sentence. I’ve come again for my, what has been for a while, monthly self-pity party. A smashing rant for a starter, whining for the main course, and I can’t be bothered with dessert because, you know what, happy things are lies. Cupcakes are con-artists.

Of Rewards and Treats

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Recently, I made the blunder of advising a parent on how to deal with their seven-year-old kid. FYI, I’m not a parent, and I can imagine all you parents reading this heading for the barn to bring out the rakes. In my defense, I was only trying to help.

Of Rating Things

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I just ordered (and ate) some fish and chips. I am Bengali, and so, as far as stereotypes go, I expect my deep-fried fish to be as good as Mitra Cafe’s or Apanjan’s. I know it cannot be as good, when it is not from either of those establishments, or from a Bengali eatery at all, for that matter. But, I can’t help it if my standards are high – the fish should be that fresh, that flavourful, that truly melt-in-the-mouth. There aren’t many things that can live up to advert-speak, but if you’ve already tasted heaven, you know you won’t be rating mere earthly morsels as highly.

But, I shall have to rate it. I ordered it on a food app, and my statistical dilemmas have already begun.

The Point of Blogging

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I usually have a title before I start writing a blog post, but not today. I can feel the adrenaline kicking in, as I dangerously write a blog post on the LibreOffice Writer without saving it. If you asked me to choose between doing that and missing being hit  by a speeding motorcyclist by an inch while walking down the zebra crossing with the red traffic light on (an event that took place this past Wednesday), I’d pick the latter. Well, I’d normally pick the latter. But, today I don’t care.

Of Achieving Things

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I am a pretty slow-paced person. Sometimes I talk too fast, but that’s because I’m trying to keep up with my mind. And who can have a slow mind in this anxiety-inducing world? Some of us even like it, which is a phenomenon

A Letter To My Blog

Blog (Courtesy: Pixabay)

Dear Blog,

Years and years ago I was given this piece of advice: to begin any piece of writing with a “sixer”. I’m sure that term is lost on all non-cricket-loving people reading this, but this letter is not about, or for, people, cricket-loving or otherwise. This letter is for you and me, rather From Me To You, and if our relationship causes obscurity among the masses, so be it. We don’t need to care about Them.

But, you will probably be rolling your eyes at that declaration, given how much we haven’t been a “We” lately. I will dare to go to the extent of telling you I haven’t thought about we – about you, about us together,

Of Adults Who Colour

Colouring Pencils (Courtesy: Pixabay)

I did it. I decided to get over my ironic worry and my deep, personal issues with self-esteem, and I did it. I am about to join you adults in the Wonderful World of Colouring.

I ordered an adult colouring book.

You might be wondering at my embarrassment,