Idiot-ism!

Shit.

I had written a huge post.

I just selected the entire thing as I wanted to copy it.

But instead of clicking Ctrl + C.
I mean I did click that but somehow my thumb slipped from Ctrl.
HAH!
ALL GONE!

My frustration is at it's peak.

That was such a sentimental experience I was writing!

Shit. SHIT!

So something I had written was...

~~I was crying at the station.~~

Bah! Why am I so temperamental?

Believe me, I'm such a confused woman.

I mean just two lines can influence me to SUCH A SUCH A GREAT extent.

Now that is a different thing that the influence lasts for merely a few hours! -_-

If you doubt that people have mercurial moods. Visit me!

I'm a live example! B)

You'll be fed up!

I shout for no reason.

I dance when I should not!

Though, I have a good voice. I sing in my worst!
Hehe. I'm writing such stupid stuff.

But, I'm sensitive. VERY MUCH!

I know this is weird but I weep.

Weep for NO reason.
I love self-pity. Not all time but ya quite often.
What else?

I'm so Petulant. Yeah!

Comments

Thank you Papa

When I quit being a Lawyer, it was an obvious assumption that my parents would never support this decision. These hard-working, middle-class parents took a loan and spent lakhs on my college education, and I decided to play and teach Guitar instead?! To be honest, I didn't hold on to any hope or support. It was a heavy risk, one where I just went with the flow of doing what I loved, while feeling incredibly guilty. . Living independently in Delhi was a crucial and a necessary decision. More than my family, I wanted to prove it to myself that I can make a living out of just music. 'Making it' holds a different definition for everyone. For me, it was always about spreading the joy of music - be it by performing or teaching or social media. The platform didn't matter as far as the message was passed across. . I look back and I wonder, was I really that alone in the journey? There were several things that I was never permitted since I was brought up in a small town, bu

Papajee

I miss my Daada, my grandfather, I miss him so much. It's been more than 12 years since he passed away but I can still feel his presence. I was in school back then and I didn't realize how huge that loss was. He used to pick me up after school. He had retired but used to go to office at times and came to pick me up in his car during his lunch time. I used to ask him for 10 Rupees to buy a packet of Chips. He happily gave it to me and I munched it on our way back. I always used to offer him one piece of chip and ate 2 myself, and we used to have a lovely journey back home. I wish I could talk to him, I do feel his presence but I would really like to talk to him. I long to hear his voice. One time, back when there were nokia phones, the button to cancel the call was broken on his phone. He had accidentally dialed someone and I was laughing so hard when he couldn't cut the call. He let me have a hearty laugh and didn't scold me about it. He used to wake me up in the mo

Her cure.

I was overwhelmed. I exited the college gate, all gay, adoring my name on the certificate. I had won the 2nd prize for western vocals, inter college. It was my best so far. While walking my way towards the metro, I called my mom and she was all happy and proud. My dad, from behind her, shouted, "I smell a new Fender in the house!" The thought of a new guitar forced a shriek out of me. I dug deep into the imagination of how it would be like when I'd finally learn to play. I was walking and swinging my way... into my bubble, unaware of the atrocities of life, sinking deeper into my emotions, giving in to materialism and dependency, blinded by desires, to what lies beyond. I was climbing down the steps to the subway when I first saw her. She was sitting on the fourth last step. It was her bagpack that caught my attention at first. It had multiple psychedelic patterns that looked hand-drawn. Since I was all happy and .. I let the excessive dopamine ta

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