I get my brightest ideas before it's bright out. That's right, every morning, just before sunrise, these epiphanous little movies play in my head. And they're actually really funny! Thing is though, that when you're asleep, the part of your brain that's responsible for storing minutiae, and storing them long enough that you can flip through them like notes later, is switched off.
I realised that I was letting many a riveting blog post slip by only because I'm always too sleepy to transcribe the stuff I see during those early hours. Last night though, I'd kept pen-paper handy, by a bedside table to beat the machine. And did I ever :) It's three in the afternoon now, and I have a whole page of notes here, albeit scrawled illegibly, but then, this is the stuff dreams are made of...wait back that up...my hyperbole just melded with reality..I'm feeling special now :-)
This post is written in real-time. I was pretty sure I had gold, so didn't bother constructing this post in my head first. Had I, I realise now it would've been a good idea.
Having made sense of my notes, I find I've written crap. I've learnt a little about myself today though. During the pre-sunrise hours, it isn't that I produce gold every morning, rather my threshold for what causes the chuckles drops like a blessed christian on GOD tv.
Maybe some other day.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
The areas of my ineptitude
These are many, but the ones I chose for this top 5-er are those that frustrate me the most.
5. Sewing - At various points in time, my wardrobe's had perfectly nice shirts and trousers that've been rendered unwearable by a missing button or a come-undone hem. So I see the button lying there, the shirt pleading to be worn, and the thread/needle combination lying by the potpourri. Yet, I'm going to do nothing about it until I get to go home and have my mommy do the dirty.
4. Multitasking - I cannot talk to my significant other while trying to pretty up a presentation, nor can I pick out work clothes while listening to Anindo Chatterjee do an intricate rela.
The point is, these things need all the attention I can give them, with little (ability to pay attention) left over. In fact, when I chance upon somebody else multitasking their way through similarly involved activities, I'm left in awe. Can't do much else but admire.
3. Drawing - You'd be amazed at some of the replicas I can produce. Back in the day, my biology teacher gave me star*star*star when he saw my detailing of the cell structure. Without a dang picture or photo in front of me though, when what was needed was a little girl lost in thought, I've been known to produce a slug.
2. Dancing - I sprout appendages at the very thought. I'll have to forever say never.
1. Singing - I have my good days. The problem is that I have too many bad ones.
5. Sewing - At various points in time, my wardrobe's had perfectly nice shirts and trousers that've been rendered unwearable by a missing button or a come-undone hem. So I see the button lying there, the shirt pleading to be worn, and the thread/needle combination lying by the potpourri. Yet, I'm going to do nothing about it until I get to go home and have my mommy do the dirty.
4. Multitasking - I cannot talk to my significant other while trying to pretty up a presentation, nor can I pick out work clothes while listening to Anindo Chatterjee do an intricate rela.
The point is, these things need all the attention I can give them, with little (ability to pay attention) left over. In fact, when I chance upon somebody else multitasking their way through similarly involved activities, I'm left in awe. Can't do much else but admire.
3. Drawing - You'd be amazed at some of the replicas I can produce. Back in the day, my biology teacher gave me star*star*star when he saw my detailing of the cell structure. Without a dang picture or photo in front of me though, when what was needed was a little girl lost in thought, I've been known to produce a slug.
2. Dancing - I sprout appendages at the very thought. I'll have to forever say never.
1. Singing - I have my good days. The problem is that I have too many bad ones.
Saturday, August 18, 2007
Married to the movies
When I get off a taxi, I like to stand there, back to the cab, luggage on the pavement beside me. The luggage and I remain absolutely still (me by choice, the luggage, not so much) contemplating whatever lies ahead and the life we've left behind, while the taxi pulls away.
I do this because it would make a nice cinematic moment. It's definitely a moment you've seen before in some movie. In that moment, it'd appear as though this person (here, me) was about to begin life anew.
And when I write, I like to sometimes chew on a pencil using the corner of my mouth. I don't remember though, the last time I used anything other than a keyboard to write. As you might suspect, I do this because it makes a movie moment, were someone to catch a glimpse.
Finally, I'm given to planting trees in my driveway, in the hope that they'll one day grow tall and cast a sweet shadow where they stand. This way, my neighbour's children, when on their way back from taekwondo class can run around them while I blare Pehla Nasha from my den. This would make for a terrible cinematic moment, but one I'd fondly marry.
I do this because it would make a nice cinematic moment. It's definitely a moment you've seen before in some movie. In that moment, it'd appear as though this person (here, me) was about to begin life anew.
And when I write, I like to sometimes chew on a pencil using the corner of my mouth. I don't remember though, the last time I used anything other than a keyboard to write. As you might suspect, I do this because it makes a movie moment, were someone to catch a glimpse.
Finally, I'm given to planting trees in my driveway, in the hope that they'll one day grow tall and cast a sweet shadow where they stand. This way, my neighbour's children, when on their way back from taekwondo class can run around them while I blare Pehla Nasha from my den. This would make for a terrible cinematic moment, but one I'd fondly marry.
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