rhododendron

on summer afternoons like this one, between hours of indulgence and languor, something bursts into bloom inside my head.
you made it happen.

birthday blues

My birthdays have always been bad.

For whatever reason, my birthday is usually the day the universe decides to pile misfortunes on me. This often extends to include the week leading up to my birthday. As the fateful day draws nearer, my days are littered with mishaps, both minor and major, making me increasingly grouchy till I just about want to curl up and die.

By this time, the blessed day has arrived and I begin it with a growing sense of dread as well as a complete sense of dejection and emoness. Nothing ever goes according to plan, and as the day progresses the series of unfortunate events increase in frequency and intensity. At some point during every birthday, I sit in a corner and brood.

I lose things on and around birthdays. Friends, wallets, little bits of my sanity.
So, new plan! now i get drunk on my birthdays! I know bad things can happen when I'm drunk too (perhaps they become that much more likely :P), so I do it in the safety of my home, surrounded by friends.
But no matter what I do, my birthdays are always a bit blue. (and yes, I rhymed. sowhat?)

love is the malady
love is the cure


Go here. Courtesy SohiniPal, my one and only. :P

corn

Let me introduce you to the joys of a corn-cap. If you develop a patch of harmless tough skin on a limb or digit, you are expected to promptly cap it with a white bandage with what can only be described as a ‘ring of fire’ in the middle. The little felt surface contains a ‘medicinal’ (read mildly acidic or skin-eating) paste that will destroy your corn within a span of five days or less.

Meanwhile, you have to sit around, with a dirty white bandage on your foot or finger, patiently waiting for your skin to be corroded slowly. Is it just me, or does that sound like a government conspiracy right out of a flesh-eating-virus movie?

Just me, then? Fine!

scatter

For every one you save, there is always one lost. and until you can distance yourself enough to see the pattern in which each loss and gain is just a thread in the fabric, each loss hurts.

And you can explain everything to yourself, bit by bit, till you think it makes sense. but then an epiphany, or something as insignificant as a cancelled plan, makes everything scatter like sunshine on water. then all is chaos, it's too loud to hear yourself over.

then what do you do?

recluse

when i'm alone, i'm more sedate, more sensitive, better attuned to the million vibrant details the universe wants to show me. i like myself better that way.

late night conversation with a friend made me articulate what i'd known about myself all along. i'm not a people person.

is 3 A.M. very late at night, or very early in the morning?