Mid-Year Resolution

It's more difficult seeing people close to me taking blows chin-up than being runover myself... the latter I can handle... I can even revel in the challenge. The former just leaves me wringing my hands with a profound sense of futility... and all I can do is hug the person, play the fool, and hope the day will soon be over.
It's not about taking the bullet for a loved one... it's about having the potential-assassin drawn, quartered, impaled, hung, dragged over shards of glasses bound in red-hot chains, sewn up in a sack and thrown to the crocodiles... until he faints. Waiting till he regains consciousness. Then repeating.


I'm not falling in love with any more people than I already have fallen in love with. I simply lack the courage and the stamina to just stand by. Or the wisdom.

Saving Grace

Excuse the Houdini... I've been riding a wild horse into the sun... the carousel's closed now and I'm back to being my own star in fairy-tale land. All vacancies hereby closed.

Though what intrigued me out of my not-too-pleasant-but-too-addictive-to-actually-give-it-a-conscious-thought-state-of-somnolence was a phone call by a titch for help with social science homework... on genocide. Please take note:

Titch: "Didi... kuch karo... meri teacher ko genocide pe article chahiye... papa ne kaha iska idea sirf aapko best hoga... batayo... jaldi... dus minute main school bus chali jaayegi"

Yours truly: "Ok... apne papa ko bolna ki unse main detail main baad main baat karungi... meanwhie write: Genocide is the systematic repression... that is, s-y-s-t..."

Titch-mentioned-above: "Oho... I know how to write 'systematic repression'... aage bolo..."

Imagine... that pip... couldn't spell "cat" to save his life till the day before... not that I can think of a situation where spelling "cat" would save anyone's life, but the argument remains. I mean... this is the same garden gnome who used to tell me which Pokemon was the most rare and why people threw random cards at each other in some arbit anime show. And now he can spell "systematic repression"!

I'd have faded away into a signature Gericault if he hadn't asked me "is that 'grace' with a c or s?"

At least I'm not rendered entirely redundant... yet. Maybe if I'm extremely nice to him when I go back home, he'll play rock-paper-scissor with me and I can be struthious a while longer.