Tag Archives: Life

Because the Floor is Too Cold!


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India’s rough-and-tough mongrel breed of dog enjoying the sun on a chilly morning. I feel alternately dispirited and amazed.

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Now This Is Arbitrary.


As happy as happy could be.

What a baffling phrase/idiom/cliche. Who knows how happy can Happy be? 

I know someone called ‘Happy’ who hates this expression with all his being. No wonder, with a name like that. School was hard on him; with everybody expecting him to be happy all the time. “Fell and hurt your knees? Don’t cry, even your name is Happy!”; “Sky is falling? But you are Happy!”. 

“Happy as Happy can be?”, he’d ask me, “how does anybody know how happy I can be, or have the capacity of being?” 

I wonder how this expression came into being, and whether he suffered any ill-effects from all the curses my friend Happy has sent his way.

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Unsophisticated and Happy


Sometimes I feel that critics, epicures, and experts of all kinds must lead such depressing lives. It’s their innate characteristic to look for perfection; but I suppose they hardly find it on a regular basis. And that must be such a constant let-down.

I, on the other hand, could never be accused of having discerning taste in anything, and feel much the happier for it. I’ve had seconds–and thirds–of food that others have called ‘passable’, I’ve enjoyed watching movies that others have labelled ‘a waste of time and money’, I’ve gladly worn hand-me-downs when others told me I looked ‘so last century’. And loved doing it all.

Experts must be such pessimists.

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One Thing I Like Less Than Most Things…


I learn nothing from my past mistakes. There must be a word for people like me. A specific derogatory term for people-who-learn-nothing-from-their-past-mistakes. Not ‘nincompoop’; I already know that one.

So there I was with a mouthful of cavities and root canals, sitting in a dentist’s chair bargaining with God–again–to please let me off this time and I’ll floss twice daily from now on, when the dentist tells me I have finally reaped the fruit of all my midnight snacks and will have to undergo a horrifically painful dental surgery after which my father will probably disown me. Well, he did not say that in so many words but I can catch subtle nuances, you know. I ask him, with an ingratiating grin, whether that surgery will involve taking out my sweet tooth, which is the root of the problem anyway, no pun intended? At least, I thought the grin was ingratiating, but you couldn’t tell that from the bland look he gave me.

While he’s performing that awfully disgusting surgery, I misquote–paraphrase?–Ogden Nash to myself (one thing I hate more than any other, is sitting in a dentist’s chair with my mouth wide open [….] against hope hopen), and wonder whether the tooth fairy leaves something for adults who have their teeth taken out mechanically (no, according to wiki, since the fairytale only works for baby teeth), and if she leaves half a dollar for adults who leave half a tooth under their pillow (see previous explanation).

Even after an hour of the-torture-that-is-both-physical-and-mental I’m not contrite; although I promise to myself that I’ll give up unhealthy tooth-decaying eatables. And the first thing I do when I get back home? I drink half a litre of an aerated, teeth-destroying drink. Like I said, nincompoop or  synonym thereof.
I don’t think the dentist took out my sweet tooth after all, because a day later I was having a sizzling chocolate brownie for dinner. Yes, I learn nothing from my past mistakes.

A note to my by now disgusted readers: I really don’t have that bad a sense of oral hygiene, and I still have all my real teeth. My experiences in the dentist’s surgery have been exaggerated–ranging from slightly to extremely–in this blog post. Well, except the part where the dentist gave me a bland look in answer to my beautiful, ingratiating smile.

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Overrated!


I’ve lost count of the things that have been labelled ‘overrated’ in recent times. Sleep is overrated, life is overrated, blogging, taste, friendship are overrated. So now I’m officially sick and tired of the system of overrating.

Of course sleeping is not ‘overrated’ (which means ‘not worth it’ or ‘ given more importance than it deserves’); ask an insomniac if you think otherwise. Life is not overrated, and if you think it is, it means you are emotionally imbalanced and should take steps to get over your current life situation. In fact, I’ll oppose everyone who calls anything overrated; it’s such a pessimistic attitude! I believe every emotion, relationship, experience, and thing, is worthwhile. It might have a different level of importance for different people, but by itself, it is probably more underrated than the other.

Have people lost interest and faith in everything that is good; in themselves, the world? That they coolly demean everything from energy bars to existence? Or is this phrase just a  mindless, meaningless fad, and will fade with passing seasons?

I fervently hope it’s the latter; because even if it implies that the masses are prone to mob behaviour, at least it also promises that sanity will return in future generations.

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Life


Life

Everything is a metaphor.

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