Quitting!!

due to the general lack of enthusiasm on my part to pen or rather type anything out, which is due to the apparent lack of interesting topics, which in turn is caused by the temporary (hopefully) constipation of my creative and imaginary cells, which came about due to the many 'imaginative' and 'creative' academic writngs and assignments that i had to write out during past few feeks, am quitting blogger till i deem it worthy to come up with type worthy readable stuff. so long then...take care folks

simple things in life

i was just wondering about those silly little things which i do, that make me so happy. most of it is trivial and silly to the point of being silliest.but yes they certainly are a part of me...an d i enjoy doing them..



i love throwing handfuls of water high into the air and than watch them form little sparkling beads and fall down. And then i love hitting them with my hand so that they break into even tinier droplets. i can spend hours just watching these droplets and splashing them about..its sheer joy!


ever tried pouring water on the walls? i do. everyday, or whenever i have time. i love watching the watter form little rivulets and roll down. i often imagine a race between the rivulets. which one will reach the ground first? and i have a bet with myself...its oodles of fun...


i love travelling in public conveyances. i love looking at people. not exactly staring at them. but just taking a glance. and then i begin attaching names to the people i see. i spin stories. try to imagine their life, their homes, their families. try to attach careers and occupations, generally spend my time making up family histories...


doodling!one of my favourite passtimes.give me a pen/pencil and a paper and i'll doodle. the best thing about doodling is that most often than not, i end up with something to do. might be a new blog post, a new painting, or perhaps the doodling would have reminded me of something else to do...and so doodling becomes a constructive as well as a highly entertaining passtime for me...

silly little passtimes. and all these mean a lot to me. they make me...these little things.

questions!

i am no story teller. i do not tell stories. nor do i have any stories to tell. and yet i write. i pour out myself into words, often failing miserably at the attempt. but do i stop? no i write and keep on writing. about what? and why? do i write for me? do i write for you?

am am not me. i was not born me. i was made. by me? but then who is this me? could i ahve been made in any other way than this? would i have been better if i had not been me?or perhaps worse?did you make me?

its cold in here. the climate and the world. for warmth i wear my jacket of love. do i wear it for me? is it someone's jacket that i wear? or do i wear it inside out for others?

is it me or you?