Along the way...

thanks rout . . . . this list should be handy in case the fairy godmother finally makes her grand appearance!

i'm thinking about. . .

what could've been. . . if my life would've followed Plan B.
I wonder whether the words of Gita still holds good; " . . . . whatever's happening, its for the good, whatever is going to happen, it'll be for the good. . . ."
because sometimes they just don't make sense, the words just don't balance the equation. Contrary to the good ol' albert.

While i'm crawling across my room. . . .

00mins : "mockingbird" is playing on my winamp; how would've Hailie felt after listening to the song? The best gift a father can give to his kid or a cheap media confession to alleviate the guilt within?

02mins : damn i have to go through that article in this month's Top Gear issue about the new line of Hemis. and when will i own the sinful gallardo?

04mins : how do i kill the wretched twins in "POP - The Two Thrones". . . should i slash then jump or just die?

05mins : is she thinking about me now?(yes its a selfish thought.) or is it just me? what did she mean when she said that? what am i doing here? why am i thinking all this?

08mins : he he. . . . thats a funny piece of lyrics!

10mins: where is all this going?

I want to . . .

live off a suitcase(or something that's more convenient to carry.) and visit all those places in india that don't qualify to be put on the map, or even on a humble milestone.

give in to objectivism and buy anything that glitters and ride anything thats lamborghini.

be the last one to give up, on anything.

live this life like those fire-crackers; explode when you're at your best.

I wish . . .

there were no language boundaries.

all the people in this world would agree on any one point, anything.

there were more stories with a happy ending.

I hear . . .

anything that inspires, amuses, relaxes, depresses, pscyhes me most unexpectedly.

the croak-symphony after a heavy downpour, the chirping cacophony at dusk, the threats before a catfight, the howling calls at three in the morning.

I wonder . . .

the amount of talent and sustenance it takes to create a masterpiece.

whether i'll be able to raise my kids well.

whether words are malleable enough to take the shape of our thoughts, or do they get distorted on their way?

whether its really important to stop all the war; we have never lived in a world without them! Then how can we presume that it'll be a better place without them?

I am . . .

a very complex alogrithm of alternatives and probabilites guided by the contemporary environment.

I dance . . .

whenever the music makes me.

I sing . . .

if i need to :
remind myself of an important lesson
share a secret
turn a lie into truth
walk through my deja vu-s
get high or if i already am!

I cry . . .

when love goes wrong(in movies or in reality)
when animals are in pain
when i witness something so beautiful that i cannot take it.

I write . . .

to remind myself what i was and what i am now.

I confuse . . .

myself by reading too much between the lines.

I need . . .

to understand somebody well enough to turn words redundant.
to be a better son.
a safe ventilation for my pent-up fury.
a different set of occurrences.

I tag mysore. This'll be good!