Type; Just type
Type; Just type
There are so many things that I
want to write about. Too many things at the same time, is also a problem. Selecting
a topic to write about also seems to be a herculean task. I don’t know why it
is called a herculean task, may be because even Hercules would have found it
difficult. Is that the connotation? May be, may be not, it is indeed difficult.
Sometimes, I wonder how people
are able to blog every single day. Of course, people will post every single day
if they are paid to do so. Now, all bloggers are not paid, are they? But they
still write a lot. How is it possible to write anything about anything? A better
statement would be how are they able to focus on just one topic and write about
it. I have met people who CAN write, trust me, they can. Give them any topic
and they would write at least 3 pages of something about that. It is more like
talking for me; I could talk about pretty much everything under the sun.
However, I may not be able to write anything about a lot of things that I could
speak about.
Writing to me is ranting, just
plain old ranting. No grammar not punctuation no nothing. Just type whatever
comes to my brain. With a topic or without, doesn’t matter. Something shapes up
after I start typing. Having said that, I do feel super lazy to type out the
words that my small little brain could possibly manufacture. Sometimes I feel there
should be a computer software which can type your thought. You think and it
types. How about that?
Formatting can come later.
A lot has happened between my
last post and this post. I don’t even remember what I posted about. Oh yeah, It
was about Mary Kom, the movie. Between that and now, I got my 15 minutes of
fame on television. I was invited by a news channel to participate in a debate.
The debate was about the alleged racial attack on a person from my home state.
It was a good experience. Now I know why they keep touching their ears while
they are on TV. You can’t hear a damn thing and the ear plug keeps falling off.
May be it was not made for Indian ears.
The mother in law and daughter in
law tussle on the TV arrived in Bangalore on the 23rd of Sep. My
television has been taken over. I do not have control over the TV remote for
more than a month now. I have been deprived of good quality television based
entertainment. It is good information though. My parents follow these TV shows
so much that they know everything about it. Even if they don’t watch for a
week, they can pretty much figure out what would have happened in the past
week. I ask them who is this and who is that and what is happening, you know,
casual conversation in the living room. They enthusiastically tell me the
entire plot and the story so far. I look at them and realise that at least they
have their kind of entertainment. If these show where not there, they would have
died of boredom. I mean, it is what they like. I just let them be what they
are.
Women; my nemesis, also the breed
I love the most. I can’t seem to get enough of them. The more I get to meet of
these species, the more distant I am becoming. My sense of understanding them
is diminishing by the day. I don’t have the patience anymore, I think. Wooing
is not my cup of tea. I just cannot do that. I may try and impress but I will
not even try and woo anyone of them. The more I see; women seem to love being
wooed. The more you put and effort, the woman seems to love it. Now, it is not
for every single woman. I am talking about the women that I have met, ball park
figure of 75 women. Now, I cannot possibly say that all women are like that
just by meeting 75. These 75 are definitely different from each other. If I
have to pick what is common between these 75, then I might be making some
sense. I am not generalising women here, I am generalising the 75. These 75
does not represent the entire womenfolk in the world. That is absolutely
ridiculous. So, what is common between these 75 then? Oh yeah, like I said,
they like being wooed. They like to be pampered. While some of them are
fiercely feminist and independent, most are true blue women. I mean, they are
neither feminist nor independent. They depend on lot of people for their things
to be done. They call someone or the other for getting anything done, be it a
bloody phone recharge, they call. Now, that is going to hurt the feminist.
What am I typing about now? I
have no idea, something to do about women. Oh that is a risky topic, let’s stop
typing. Shall we?
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