My job's a hoax I think. They're paying me to pretend like my designation and my job profile means .. something.

Well it doesn't.

I was perfectly happy getting money to do like 2 hours of proper work in one whole week. And spending other time being super cool on social networking sites.

But I think it's finally getting to me now. I miss being a student - and still a child.

Now I have to think about Taxes, savings and whatever the hell tax returns means.

More than that, I wish I was in a cooler job, that made our mundane existence seem worth it.

Lalalala <3

And just general winter-y, happy things.

Red Bandhni Duppattas.
Guerilla shopping in forgotten bylanes
Humming a useless song throughout a largely independent day
Bring broke and feeling like a college student again
Running and living your day with muscle pains

Such a lovely! These little random cutes.

At the risk of making this page sound extremely self-indulgent, I realize it's time for me to come to terms with the fact that I am a narcissist. I am happy when I feel/look good (mostly which is induced by external influences) and I am low and critical when something (even a zit) is wrong.

Meh. Flaws.

Pre-winter in Delhi mostly makes me a little depressed, not because of the weather (which in it's sepia-haze and elaichi smelling, chilly breeze can make you want to pirouette), but mostly because it's time for my annual think-a-thon. Where I scrutinize, criticize, lay foundations for what I need to do over the next summer (which I may or may not follow), and generally review my life.

Each year, the criticisms get tougher, and I forgot to enjoy ME. I love ME. I always have; sometimes a little too less, sometimes a little too much. I realize, I don't want or need things to be just right - that's boring.

Today when I woke up at the crack of dawn, to a slight slimmer of orange light walking into my room, I made my peace with me. With my fluctuations, occasional heavy bouts of negativity, intense observational comparisons and your regular vices (greed, lust, glutton). And pooey, vices are more fun anyway.

It's a handful of wrongs and rights; if I remove the wrongs my palm might get too sweaty, and if I remove the rights, the skin might chap. My nails are bitten, and I have tiny tan line across the finger with a ring, but my hand is sturdy right now.

Sure, I need some growing up to do. But there's a lifetime for that.



Meet me, I'm fab :)

Wow. So much negativity on this page.

Where's my sense of balance?