least of problems

I may have a few quirks myself; touching my face persistently is not one of the few. Especially in huge wiping gestures, like how you would wipe your face after a facial wash, except that you're really smearing facial oil over the already oily surface. I mean, that could only serve as a means to evenly distribute facial oil, to achieve a homogeneous spread or what have you. It may be a subconscious gesture, seeing the many perpetrators unaware of this social quirk. And the hands resume normal routines. They go on to shake other people's hands, to email on their blackberrys or touchscreen phones. Some phones have enough smear on them; you could scrape it off and it would suffice frying an egg. Oh yeah, the railings on public transports as well. Thumbs up.

keepers, new avenue

I wished everybody has a keeper. You know, just to pick you up when you're down and out. To give revelations and insights at points in time. I guess many turn to religion, and boy it must have saved many through renewed faith and purpose.

I am not a god's man; I guess I should be thankful for the little literary capability I possess. Whatever I find hard to commune verbally, I translate that into words. I deconstruct and examine, in hopes of construing the subject at hand. Of late, I've been investing much time into what many might label as simply a 'time consuming/labour intensive activity'. Running's pretty much a new direction, an avenue. I'd thought it would be a healthy outlet to channel negativity, and I guess in a way it is.

Running is the greatest metaphor for life, because you get out of it what you put into it." Oprah Winfrey

losing our reins

What's in a apology anyway? It's wordplay, and certainly ain't as melodious as Jason Mraz's one. Sometimes we are guilty of slanting a conversation towards our end of the scale. Could we just heave away the 'my problem's bigger than yours' or the 'there are people with worse problems' mentality, right out the window? We get caught up in provocation sometimes, all the distasteful words hurled are reflex responses. It is a, goddamn spiral downwards. For once, when it matters, it is hoped that at the very least, we could recall the fundamentals and foundations of a such a connection.

semantics

This would probably be the only legit place one ever gets as an avenue for penning down needless complains and redresses. I guess when you talk to another being it runs the risk of mis-communication, especially in a technologically fortified era. IMs, emails; hell some of us even initiate divorces through SMS-es.

I don't do great in communicating. Time and time again, events have demonstrated my inadequacies in that area. Arguments, are basically examples heaped back and forth, fortified with yet more examples. And we play the semantics game. It looks like I'm making a bee-line into oblivion, as I chase away everybody that ever matters.

I'll lock myself up with my thoughts and throw away the key.

fleeting flashes

Sometimes it is bleak, and it is hoped that we could all approach the same problem with a consistent mindset. Being fickle beings we are, it is mostly somewhat of a problem.

On some days I would feel like plundering, doing unto mankind what the world has done unto me. The boorish lifeforms, sneezing and coughing, spreading whatever conceivable diseases. All that might flash in my mind before I take a sane approach to things. Rationality prevails ultimately, but not imaginations; one feels truly alone. Of course we sometimes engage in irrational behaviour and that accounts for about 100% of crimes you see in the news.

On some days I become more at peace. Looking at the unspoiled(for now) skies, etched in space. I wished I could lock away the piece of sky in my mind; it is but fleeting.

true solitude

I could start talking to a tree pretty soon. That is one of many ways to rehearse for a lifetime of solitude I could see, rolled out on a red carpet. I mean, you frown upon the weird guy on the street doing his weird thing. You didn't think it could happen to you, did you?

What it is in a connection? Sometimes strongly forged but at times turns into a house of cards at some point in time; fuzzy at best. The agenda served, money frittered, energy expended. When all else fails we even find it hard to have lunch alone. Arr, all the sentimental creatures on planet earth.

It is and not

There was an overwhelming compulsion to greet the day with an expletive today. Flashing back a couple of days, I'd realised that the fleshes were nonetheless, invariably human. An insidious headache serves to remind me of my vulnerability, and my body responded by felling itself into a long ardous slumber. After two weeks of pounding, I had felt like a used kitchen rag. That being said, I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Perhaps it does not explain the need to hurl a distasteful word at the break of dawn. Maybe I was jaded, maybe I was rushing for time. But in all chaos, there is clarity. It was clear that I wanted, or rather needed, to extract every derivable morsel of truth. It could have been. It was.

The office lady with the wrong heels. The man with a stack of lottery tickets in his hand; the stack aptly named 'hope'. My colleague who aspires to be an Austrian economist; he sports clothes from Spade and is never thankful for the wonderful girl he has. There is no respite from what many have shown. Not one is without forlorn hope or guilty bones. Obscenely futile at times, we still pursue in the seemingly needless. Even after trials and tribulations, we still do harm unto ourselves and others. The looks on our deathbeds, mostly ones of residual guilt.