All these years, and I'm still the kind of person who writes 2000-word emails, and hovers over the send button about a hundred times before deciding to let them rot as drafts. On the upside, in case of recourse I'll soon have an eloquently worded, impeccably punctuated, and obscenely dramatic epistolery novel ready. That is, of course, if apocalypse/terminal illness doesn't strike first. In which case, it would be just a whole lot of histrionics wasted, on a significantly lesser quantity of it. 

Thus began the *isms.

Social networking chafes my patience, despite being my only recourse in times of distress and isolation.
A green dot next to my name, is always a clear sign of desperation.

A Crucial Matter.

There was a time when I seriously considered snitching potassium cyanide from the school chemistry lab, and feeding it to someone.A little over 3 years later, I might be meeting that person over cosmopolitans soon. 

The above statement might implicate me in a murder trial someday. Or, it might implicate her, in case she decides to poison me or drive a chainsaw through me in a dark alley or worse. 

P.S. You've got to love encounters with ex-arch enemies. Puts "living deliberately" on a whole different level.

P.P.S. I've had an unusually dramatic life. Contrary to probable assumptions, I haven't always been overly "dramatizing" it. It's true. 

P.P.P.S. I wish this was entirely a joke. Guess what? It isn't.

Confession #4.

No matter how insanely masochistic it may be, sometimes you find yourself digging up fragments of the past. Little pieces of the puzzle you never noticed, an odd little message buried somewhere in time, and some that weren't meant for you... that you were never supposed to see. But no matter how much it aggravates you, you don't want to stop. And you keep clawing through the thorns. Deeper...and deeper.

Sappy 91% waning gibbous night. 

Internet archives be damned.

Once in an odd while...

Random acts of kindness by complete strangers leave me shaken and stirred. Such things don't fit into my view of the world.

And then, there are times when I wish I could believe them.

Ladies & Gentlemen...

I admit. I have given in to the great temptation.

Plagued by the miseries of life and time, the mortal seeming remains tormented by a multitude of evils, all at once. Each trial against decadence, appears as an insurmountable pinnacle. Each battle won against the norms of society, is a war lost to decadence. Such is the plight of the righteous man. And such is the gravity of a moral dilemma.

To quote the bard himself :
"I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition that this goodly frame, the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof fretted with golden fire! Why, it appears no other thing to me than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapours. What a piece of work is man! How noble in reason! How infinite in faculties! In form and moving, how express and admirable! In action how like an angel! in apprehension, how like a god! The beauty of the world! The paragon of animals! And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of dust?"

-Hamlet
(Act 2, Scene 2)

...............................................................................................................................................................

Yes, my friend. Take heart, for I have now joined the ranks of the Tweeters of the world!
*dramatic interlude plays in background*

Having succumbed to the pop-culture fad that Twitter epitomizes and embodies so perfectly, I consider it my job... nay, my noble duty, to pass on the malady. Corrupting the youth of the nation, after all, shall always remain a hobby. Bwuahahaha!

So, go ahead. Join me here.

P.S. Fact of the matter: I seek partners-in-crime. We'll even work out a secret-handshake!

Confession #3

I acquire a decidedly feminine demeanor when I'm upset.

Bear with me, for this is an embarrassing confession of EPIC proportions. ME, being the person who wore pink ONCE in her life and suffered enough mental trauma and general inferiority to never be able to look at anything pink without a grimace again. It was a dark day in the life of yours truly. I still have nightmares about it.

So, for posterity (lest I grow a beard-and-other-things one fine day and become the happiest person in the world), here's a list :

• I cook.
• I clean.
• I KNIT.
• I listen to chick-music. The kind no self-respecting person would be caught dead carrying on their iPod. Not James Blunt. Think lower. Think woozier. Think Belinda Carlisle and Cyndi Lauper.
  
• I watch sappy TV shows and IDENTIFY with the much-scorned and wronged protagonist.
  

Come to think of it, the last time I was in the end-the-world-right-here-right-now mood was in January. I knitted half a scarf and watched the first 4 seasons of Grey's Anatomy in 2 days flat.

Here's a picture, as proof :

I also started this blog.

Confession #2

Lady GaGa is growing on me. Like a parasitic creeper.

Over the past few days of excessive sleep-deprivation, crazy deadlines, and general hysteria, I have been found to be jiving to Poker Face. In the most unbecoming of fashions, inappropriate of places and inopportune of times.

Someone shoot me now.
Or, witness the gradual deterioration.
...................................................................................................
I've been hoping it's a temporary lapse of judgment owing to the aforementioned hysteria. I KNOW it's atrocious. I really do.

But guess what's playing in the background right now?
*goes back to the jivin'!*

Confession #1

The smileys I intersperse in any text I write, justify their existence only with the purpose of cushioning brusqueness.

I intend to stop. Right now.
(Not the brusqueness.)