What is it about being in love with a vicious man that comes as a relief? The suspicious, mistrustful, constantly thinking and never saying, laughing, breathing comfort of it all. You're a million loving ways to be cruel.

"If I don't stop shopping, I'll end up a bag lady; a Fendi bag lady, but a bag lady"

So I've been trying to be zen and frugal (especially frugal) and I accidentally took stock today. I hate taking stock. Stock taking is for suckers and idiots. Stock taking blows.
As you can surmise, I need help. Not with the zen, that I have under control. In fact my abundance of zen is allowing me to be all calm about my frugality and is telling my brain, in calm soothing tones that sound kind of like Keith Richards for some reason, that I can handle this frugalness situation. Internet, in my defense I'd like to point out that when I was in college sometimes Bunny and I'd wait half an hour to take bus home instead of taking an auto, even though the freaking bus was just 5 bucks cheaper. And plus we had to travel only 3 kms and sometimes walked it if we were bored, but my point is that it's possible.
And for starters I'm going to stop taking bullshit limits from people who think 25k is a reasonable limit for a day of shopping. Geez. So next time when you see me, internet, I'll be glowing with serenity and zen and I'll be wearing something you've seen me in before at least thrice.
And I'm not even smoking.

Claustrophobia central

So I got told to behave myself and I’m not sure if it’s warranted. But at least I got told! I’m at work and I have no work today. There’s a white man here reviewing some of our work and I’ve been asked to sit with the team on the project I’m technically assigned to, even though I haven’t worked with these people in a million months. I’m sitting with them, showing solidarity, being one of them. And I have no work while the white man reviews my partner’s sins. I have no internet connectivity, I have no meetings today. So I’m free, except for today’s task of being one of the team.
I miss cigarettes. I know why I quit and it’s just infinitely the smarter thing to do. I think about how pissed my dad would be if I got lung cancer one day and they have to take care of me and make sure I don’t die or experience any pain or whatever, only because of my own idiocy. It’s really irrational. But since when is true love rational? And the Phillip Morris company and I, we’re lovers. In the dirty, secret shame sort of way. The kind who meet up in hotels after they’ve got married to other people. Terrible. And I suspect all true love is the dirty, shameful kind. Wait and watch, internet.
I think I need to find a job where I love the work and feel all fulfilled and fuzzy. I think life is simpler like that because then you can look forward to spending your days being fuzzy and fulfilled. It’s important for a person like me because on a lot of days nothing else makes me feel either of the two. I think I’m missing some sort of important gland, internet. I think I need help.
I just met Swaamers and he said shame on me for not updating properly. I thought about it, and I’m sorry for this internet, but feel is not happening. At all. Case in point, this stupid entry. You’re tedious and sort of like an acquaintance and it’s just not very fun talking to you for now. Is this the extent of my claustrophobia that I want space from my blog? Space, internet, is over-rated. It’s boring and you’re forced to think about boring stuff and it makes you wonder why you don’t get drunk every night with those very carefully dressed idiots anymore. I’m going to Udaipur in the beginning of April and that’s something I can’t find anything to whine about :D There is hope for me after all.

Yay Delhi!

To The Dude Who Refuses To Talk To Me

Hello.

I know there's a purpose behind your silence and that it's something you feel like you have to do. I get it. I would however like to point out that it's been almost 4 (5?) months and it's time to stop. You're one of the coolest people I know and I miss you and, really, this is not worth it. I think part of the reason why I come up with zilch nowadays when I come to this blog is because I know (hope?) you're reading this. And it feels weird to prattle on about this and that when we haven't spoken about any of it in forever. And that's a really huge change from the way things were before you started this madness. I've got so used to factoring in your opinions on most decisions (and then promptly discounting them as well :P). And this year, DWRTTM, has been really strange. In both good ways and bad ways. And I'm really pissed with you for not being around to give me bullshit advice about finding my soul. Fuck you. This is not how you behave. And I'm pretty sure I'm fucking all sorts of things up and not being true to myself and handling this mushroom cloud of confusion really poorly and, buddy, I'm going to blame ALL of it on you. So fuck you, again.

DWRTTM, I miss you. I have nothing to explain, I don't feel the need to, but I miss the general happiness and warmth and simplicity that is you. I miss having my ass handed to me and I miss being a no-holds-barred bitch. I miss talking to someone who knows me really well and can call bullshit on all the bullshit. The boring monologues about your passion and its incredibly painfully large technical history, I don't miss so much :P I'm not quite sure on the junk mail (hah! there. I called it junk mail. It is mostly forwards and links and stuff) yet, my inbox looks a lot cleaner. But I also don't get to read about animals who save lives and old people who love the Beatles as much. So that's a 50-50.

Most importantly, I'm happy. And you're missing it. Which just pisses me off so much that I don't even know what to say. I know you're going to call this entire phase 'growth' or some such hippie bullshit, but I'm going to call it stupid and petty. So fuck you, again. You don't even know Professor or Bug. You don't know anything you stupid chuth.

Hope you and the family are doing well.

Kisses.
Murphy

Alright kids, it's time to get your dreams crushed

I have so many pending emails to write. I seem to be unable to write anything these days, especially here. There is no one thing that I want everyone reading this to know. It seems to be inadequate to say that I'm 'happy.' I woke up and I could feel the residual man-made gunk in my insides and little else. I'm happy internet, but I still have these mornings where nothing touches me for a while. The issues here, internet, are profound psychological issues. This is no ordinary ennui. This is a soft ache in the dust of my bones, a passing spasm at the base of my skull. But then I become happy again and it takes so little for me to be happy nowadays.
And so it passes.

I'm not writing here yet internet (don't take this as me writing here, I have lots to tell you and I'm not going to do any of it now), so hang on for a while. I do however want to tell you about this girl with dark brown marks down the inside of her elbows, which look like dried up clay. She has this habit of unconsciously running whatever she's staring at or focusing on between her thumb and index finger while talking and she stopped me today in the women's restroom to ask what's the most satisfying stationery to steal from the store (where they just give it all away anyhow) while running her fingers over the orissa gold around my neck.

I slept for 17 hours this Monday and I finally felt like myself again. Geez, it's really been a while.