Tuesday, January 31, 2012


People are more interesting when they are interested in you.  By the same token, they would find you more interesting if you are interested in them.  I have unwittingly confused myself by coming up with my very own chicken and egg theory.  Who starts getting interested first in order to trigger interest in the other person?  It could happen spontaneously, or one person could start first and if interest vibrations could be visualized and plotted out on statistical graph then zig-zag lines would be bouncing back and forth from one person to the other, assuming the other is also, coincidentally, magically, interested.

This is basically an attempt to explain (to myself) the mysterious phenomena of why most of my friends are male.

Friday, January 27, 2012


There are days when I wish to be stick thin, dressed in skinny leggings and white t-shirt with all the simplicity of a girl and sexiness of a woman. My general rule is that if I can look at myself naked in the mirror without cringing away, I'm good.  This becomes a problem because I can never see my backside, which mother always points out to me. She would say, "that dress only looks good from the front. From the back your buttocks are stretching it out of proportion". She would say, "you've grown wider ever since you came back from the US. What have you done there?"  She would say, "you should be grateful that you have someone who cares about how you look."  She would say, "If not me then who?"

Such is the happy perfection of my home.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012


The writer Geoff Dyer said "Have regrets. They are fuel. On the page they flare into desire."

Which perhaps explains why whenever I am happy - but not the desperate intoxicating happiness that comes from desiring something imperfect and difficult, not the jarring happiness of being an excitingly awkward angle, not the searching happiness of never quite arriving at the wanted journey's end; but the steady happiness of being loved whole and piecemeal, the magnetizing happiness of having an axis around which to spin my unquenchable thirst for life, the liberating happiness of never needing to choose the perfect shade of a sky out of a million, the unboring uneventful happiness that comes from framing laughs around every mundane moment - that is when I cannot write a single page.