Things that make me go..."WHY WHY WHY?!?!?!"

I started this blog with the intention of filling it with nothing but positivity, but today, I just feel like letting out some pent-up negativity. Such is the unavoidable duality that is life, no point in ignoring it. I'm sorry Mr. Lennon, I'll go back to being positive tomorrow. Now, I'm going to make a list of things I do not appreciate.

1. Being treated disrespectfully - Do I really need to expand on this one? I think it's the least we can do for each other, show a little bit of respect. I don't care is someone does not like me, love me, want to date me or want to hang out with me, but I do care about being treated and spoken to in a respectful manner.

2. People who don't value friendships or connections - I've never been one for burning bridges; I just don't believe in it. Human connections are more valuable than anything in the world. If we actually manage to connect with someone, I believe that we should nurture that connection, not cut it off on a whim. I'm still on speaking terms with all my ex boyfriends because I believe in that principle. As for friendships, I'm an only child so I've always been very close to my friends. I've never actually "stopped being friends with someone" because of differences. Yes, I've fallen out of touch with people due to distance, but I've never intentionally cut people off. I'm no longer in touch with some friends from college because of misunderstandings and people just being too immature and hypocritical to resolve conflicts, and that's so against my character that it bothers me to no end. Do friendships and memories really mean so little to these people? How was I ever friends with them?

3. Getting news a day too late - WHY do I always find out things when it's just a little too late to do something about it? WHY WHY WHY??????

4. Having to fight multiple wars - Why is it that when something starts going wrong, EVERYTHING ELSE does too? For a while now, I feel like I've been fighting multiple wars on multiple fronts. Things just seem to be going south one after another. Hitler couldn't do it. Napoleon couldn't do it. How am I supposed to be able to do it? Seriously Universe...next time you want to throw some lemons my way, please...one at a time. I've been knocked unconscious by a lemon into a vat of lemonade and am drowning.

5. The need to have Facebook and YouTube on a phone - I just don't understand it. I use both Facebook and YouTube, but is it really necessary to update your Facebook status while you're out? Is it really necessary to take a picture and then upload it right away and then start reading the comments that people make and comment back while out interacting with other people? As for YouTube, do I REALLY need to see the video of someone doing something stupid bordering funny RIGHT AWAY? I mean, you can just tell me about it and then send it to me later. That way the next day, I'll watch it and then I'll think about you and the fun we had. But no, I'll be made to watch it while out at a bar or something. Are our conversations skills that bad these days that we have to kill 4 minutes watching a video to make the time go by? You're out with another human being! Get off the internet and interact before you lose the human touch!

6. Religious fanatics and intolerant people - Jesus tried to spread a message of love. As did every other religion. Stop killing each other. You're not better than me and I'm not better than you.

7. The Economy/Job Market - I don't think I need to expand.

8. Twilight - It's just bad and annoys me. I'm a fan of the Vampire Chronicles, where vampires act like vampires, not pathetic teenage losers. Not to mention it's just badly written, the worst piece of prose in the English language I've ever come across.

I'll stop at 8. I think I've ranted enough. Though I have to say, life has got to stop throwing punches at me for now. I'm winded.

The Pursuit of Happiness

I think what we all want, more than anything, is to be happy. However, how much of our happiness depends on factors that are out of our control? What kind of job we get, the amount of money we make, whether or not we're appreciated, these are all things that are out of our control? Feels like we all build castles in the sand. I'm no different. The things that would really make me happy at this point are all out of my control. I mean, yes, I can buy myself presents and take myself to movies and out for drinks with friends and be cheerful, but the things I REALLY want are not things I can get myself but depends on the decision of others. It's a bit scary how much of our lives depend on fate, as much as we like to believe that we're in control.

My First Time

I did something I've never done before yesterday; I went to watch a movie all by myself. For some reason, going to a movie alone was always something I avoided doing, thinking it was a "loser" thing to do, but it was actually a nice experience.

After going to Kiehls' Flagship store near Union Square yesterday to get presents for some friends, I had a few hours to kill before going to a birthday dinner, so I thought about what I could do instead of just go home or do some more shopping which my bank account can't handle. As I was walking by the movie theater on Broadway, the bright, red, scrolling lights caught my eye and I realized a movie I've been attempting to watch was playing, so I walked over to check show times. Clearly, I was meant to watch the movie because the next show started in five minutes, so I bought a ticket and stepped towards a new experience: watching a movie by myself in public. I walked into the theater thinking, "Everyone's going to know I'm here by myself. I look pathetic," but as I found a lonely seat in a corner and I looked around, I realized I wasn't the only one, many people were there alone. Perhaps it was the type of film that did not appeal to the masses, not a large Hollywood blockbuster but a small budget British film, and hence people could not convince their friends/significant others to join them. I showed the preview to a friend and he actually said, "This looks like the type of movie a guy goes to watch with a girl if he wants something in return." I was about to tell him his statement wasn't necessarily true, I've dated men who like small-budget, independent films, but I didn't feel like prolonging the conversation. Any way, I noticed the number of alone-movie-goers scattered all over the theater, male and female, and it made me happy; some of them were actually quite attractive. Perhaps these were the "art-loving" people the village is known for.

Since I was alone, I was actually able to focus on the movie a lot more than I usually do. There was nobody next to me whispering comments to me, and I wasn't tempted to do the same, so I focused on the plot and direction and noticed minor things that I would not have otherwise. That was something I liked about watching a movie alone, I feel like I really got to experience what the director wanted his audience to. The movie I watched was called "An Education." For a British film, it had a very American approach to humor, I thought. What I've always enjoyed about British movies and literature is the sarcastic, dry humor that doesn't seem like an obvious attempt to make audiences laugh, but manages to anyway. The attempts at humor in this movie, as well as the use of foils and symbolism, were very apparent; I prefer and expected more subtlety. However, I am not a film critic. I probably don't even know what I am talking about, but this is MY blog and I can write whatever I want, and it's not like anyone reads this garbage anyway. All-in-all the movie was enjoyable as long as you didn't over-analyze.

There was something from the movie that really got the gears turning in my mind. The main character of the movie was obsessed with everything French: the language, the culture, the clothing, the film and music, etc. She goes to Paris, once with her much older lover, and again with a boyfriend she meets at Oxford (we don't see the latter, we only hear about it in the narration). This made me wonder, what exactly is it about Paris that is so romantic? I have never been to Parks, but it seems like all lovers want to go to Paris. Everyone with someone "special" in their lives wants to be swept away and taken to Paris for a romantic vacation. In fact, I was inspired after watching Casablanca for the uncountable time to ask a boyfriend to go to Paris with me. Needless to say the answer I received was a very clear "no," but the point is, one of my first ideas for taking a vacation with a person I was romantically involved with involved Paris, and I would not have even thought twice about it if he had ever suggested it. Yesterday, I remembered a time when someone actually had wanted me to go to Paris with them, though I'm not really sure if it was something romantic. He was taking a class which met in NY for one month and Paris for the second month, and he asked me to take the class with him; he said we would have fun in Paris and drink wine and eat bread and cheese and walk along the Seine and go to the Louvre. Obviously, I declined, as tempting as it was. It was out of the question then. Ironically, the class was canceled because not enough people registered for it. He and I are no longer friends. In fact, we never were. Back to the question, what is it about Paris?

I decided to walk because I like walking, so I headed uptown since I would need to take the train in that direction anyway to go home. Right in front of me was the Empire State Building, making a statement in orange and blue. What was it about the Eiffel Tower that was so much more romantic than the Empire State, or Big Ben for that matter? There are art museums, not the Louvre but still museums that house a LOT of art, in New York, London, and most other major cities of the world. Most big cities are located on rivers or other bodies of water since their function as a major port is what made them a major city in the first place, so Paris definitely is not the only place with riverside cafes and restaurants. In terms of theater and entertainment, does NY or London, or any major city for that matter, really lack anything in that department? As for the people, anyone is romantic when they fall in love. I'm positive there were times when I behaved more love-stricken than the entire population of France combined. Then why do we all want to flock to Paris to cultivate our love? If someone could give me an explanation I would love it. Better yet, if someone would like to come with me to find the answer, I would love it even more. Whether we remain in contact years later or not, we can say to each other, "We'll always have Paris."

Back to America where I tried something new. I had an enjoyable day with myself yesterday. I took myself shopping for gifts and got myself a present too, treated myself to a movie, and then walked around with myself. It felt like I took myself out on a date, and it was strangely fulfilling. Perhaps in an attempt to find partners and companions and gain the approval and acceptance of others, we forget that we are the ones capable of making ourselves the happiest.

Dumbledore's Army!

I feel like writing about something that is extremely close to my heart: The Harry Potter series. My friend sent me a recommendation for the Harry Potter Spells Application for the iphone/itouch and I in turn told another friend about it who poked some good-humored fun at the expense of my love of the series. Yes, they are well written books that are hard to put down, but that isn't the main reason they are so important to me. To fully explain that, I will need to take a trip down memory lane.

As with all stories worth telling, this one begins with a love story. I was 13 when I first met the boy who would become my first boyfriend. We were both in Calcutta, it was my first day of school and I was told to sit with him in art class. His first words to me were, "So you're the new girl?" I believe I responded with, "Yes. You sound very British." We started talking and found out about each others' pasts and interests. We both found each other attractive, but didn't think too much about it. I was new at school and I was homesick and boys were the last thing on my mind. Eventually, we got closer and a little over a year later we confessed our feelings for each other and started "dating," or as much dating as a 15 year old can do. He was my first kiss, first person who said he loved me, first person I loved. And then the fairy tale ended. We dated for nine months and then he broke up with me. I was absolutely heartbroken, never felt that kind of gut-wrenching pain before and sincerely hoped I would never feel it again.

I came to NY a few days after we broke up and I shared what had happened with my friends. I was extremely sad all the time and looking for anything to distract myself. It was at this point that a friend, M, wiser than her years gave me the first book to read. Not only was my ex the last thing on my mind, but I found the magical world a place where I could hide and not face the pain my real world was full of. It was like I took literary heroin, I simply could not stop reading. There were only four books at the time and I think it only took me one week to read all of them, and then I reread them all to pick up as many details as possible. To this day, I'm amazed at how many new details, whether a meaningful look or just a small hidden clue, I find when I reread the books for the 100th time.

A word about my friend M, I say she is wise beyond her years because she is actually 3.5 years younger than me, and yet she and I find ourselves having extremely mature conversations. Add her older sister to the mix, and we're just laughing for three hours straight without knowing what exactly is so funny. I've known M since she was four years old and she is currently studying architecture at one of the best art colleges in the country. She is the most creative person I know and is a very gifted artist. I'm glad that I have been around to watch her grow into such a strong, confident, intelligent and beautiful human being. (Like I said, I'm surrounded by amazing women!)

Back to the work of another woman, Jo Rowling, Harry and his world cast a spell on me that I haven't been able to fight off even after eight years, and honestly, I don't want to. I'm a proud Potterholic. Just like Hagrid came to pick up Harry and bring him out of his cupboard under the stairs, Harry and his friends brought my out of the proverbial cupboard that I was forcing myself into because I was upset over a break up. E.M. Forster says, "It is so easy for an Englishman to sneer at the chance collisions of human beings...Is it so easy to talk of 'passing emotion,' and forget hot vivid the emotion were ere it passed." I'm not English (my ex is though) and I do not take human emotions for granted. In fact, I wear my heart on a sleeve. (Really bad thing to do, but I am what I am and someday, it will be appreciated) However, when I look back at my 15-year-old self with the maturity of a 23-year-old, I think, "Pratima, what was wrong with you? Life goes on!" Clearly, it did. However, at the time, the only ointment I could apply on my broken heart was the magical words of Ms. Rowling.

Eventually, the rest of the books were published. I even stood in line for 9 hours (with M) to attend the midnight book release of the 7th book. Harry's world became darker as the series progressed, and I found myself wondering what I would do if I were in some of the positions Harry was in. I found myself asking, "What would Dumbledore do?" in certain situations. Perhaps this is why people think I'm insane. But really, the whole story is about the fight between good and evil, is it really that bad if I use it as my moral compass? Dumbledore had some very wise words! I find myself striving to be a true Gryffindor these days, head up and back straight, facing down that which bothers me.

I gave my most recent boyfriend (it's a very short list), my most recent ex as of this summer, the books and he was the only person I know who managed to put down one of the books in the middle and resume reading a significant amount of time later. He also broke my 5th book in half (It was slightly damaged when I gave it to him) and never bothered to replace it. The really ironic thing is, the last movie he and I saw together was the 6th Harry Potter movie. He probably isn't reading this, but if he is, he owes me a new first edition Order of the Phoenix.

My first ex, the reason why I started reading these books, and I have actually become good friends over the years. We speak regularly despite the distance. (A rather large body of water: the Atlantic Ocean) He will never realize what a favor he did to me by ending our "relationship." He made me find something that I will truly love for the rest of my life, because when you REALLY love something, that feeling lasts forever. Dumbledore would be very proud of having such a hopeless romantic as a follower.

Thank you, Ms. Rowling, for sharing this world you created. I believe in magic. If that makes me crazy, then lock me up. I think it's nothing short of magic that creates bonds between friends and lovers. I think it's magic that the elements suddenly started reacting and created this world we live in, it's magic that sometimes inspires us to take that extra step that makes all the difference. And I don't care what I learned throughout engineering school, planes fly with magic!

Fail

A day worthy of Fail-blog. Things just didn't seem to want to work out; really made me believe in our choices being half chance. Lesson learned: actions ALWAYS speak louder than words. If someone doesn't make an effort, THEY DON'T CARE. I give up. On a positive note, I got to hang out with Furry and her "friend," had some drinks to wash away the bad day, and rock out to Taylor Swift at the top of my voice with Furry while driving home.

Love actually...

"I love you." There. I said it. Oh my God, what a miracle, the world didn't just fall apart! A friend of mine called me earlier today telling me how she was inspired by the movie "Love actually" (I actually suggested she watch it so perhaps her misery is partially my fault)to let loose of all inhibitions and tell the man she loves (who happens to be someone she's dated for a long time but has been having problems with lately) about her undying, unconditional love for him. In return, she was psychoanalyzed by a thoroughly distraught man.

My friend is an intelligent, beautiful, humorous, strong, worldly woman who's love I would be honored to receive, so I am basically writing this as a message to my lovely friend, referred to as Feathers. She has been feeling down and insecure so I just want to say: Feathers, you are the only person who makes me feel like acting like a lunatic is appropriate behavior, and I love you for it. If I could write poetry, I would do it for you. In fact, I would write sonnets in perfect iambic pentameter. Shakespeare would be ashamed. However, the most I can do is blog about you.

Feathers is an amazing person that any man would be lucky to have in his life. In fact, most women I know are. Then why do men keep running away once they hear that these amazing women love them? Isn't that a compliment? It's not just Feathers; the last time I told someone I loved him, I heard crickets. I'm telling you that I care about you, that I want to share your troubles and make you happy, not that I want your kidney and half your liver!! Dumbledore would be very disappointed.

So to avoid negativity (I promised Mr. Lennon that I would be positive in the letter I left him), I'm going to focus my energy on sending some love into the universe, because I think that's what the world really needs. Some wise men once said, "All we need is love." Maybe with a little bit more love, people will stop fighting wars and killing each other over things that don't matter (Does it REALLY matter how many or which higher power I worship?)and focus on the things that do. Perhaps if the gears of pharmaceutical companies were greased with less greed and more love, people would be cured of diseases. Perhaps if we discovered ways to live a more sustainable life, we would not have to kill or invade other countries for oil. We make neutron bombs that kill human beings but don't destroy infrastructure. Is brick and mortar worth more than human lives? Ironic, isn't it? Where is civilization headed?

Before I head to bed tonight, I am going to look out my window and tell the world that I love it and that I'm am happy to be living in it. Maybe that will help solve some problems by a fraction. Maybe there are other people who are doing the same and our fractions will add up. I'm going to end this post saying to all my friends that I love them and one day, we all will find people who have the courage to love us, and we are doing nothing wrong by telling someone we love them; we're injecting some love into the world. Feathers, I will tell you that I love you every day. To someone else, if you're reading this, you know who you are, I would do handstands in a bikini in the snow just to see you smile. Seeing you makes the sun seem to shine a little brighter. I love you.

And I love you too world! Now get better already!

Pemberley...

A few people have been asking me what Pemberley is. (In fact, one person asking me WHO is it!) I feel the need to take this rainy evening to clarify and enlighten.

Pemberley is the name of Mr. Darcy's considerably large and generations-old estate in Derbyshire. However, I am NOT looking for an expensive piece of property in England along with a rich and aristocratic husband; though I won't complain if I find one. Pemblerley, to me, is a state of mind in which we feel a sense of belonging and happiness. Elizabeth Bennet, upon visiting Pemberley with her aunt and uncle, thought of how she could have lived there instead of visiting it as a tourist, and as much as I would like to believe that it was only Darcy that she truly fell in love with, she fell in love with Pemberley too. She not only wanted Darcy, but she wanted to be the mistress of Pemberley. This is where I like to be a bit more romantic and ignore Pemberley's value as a piece of real estate and believe that she felt like she belonged there, like the old library which was a "work of generations" was somewhere she could spend hours reading, and the light in the portrait hall was perfect for her picture (or likeness as Austen would have called it). In short, she felt like she belonged there.

Similarly, when I would like to find a place that really "calls out" to me; says, "Pratima, you belong here." I would like to find a place where I am content with the cards dealt to me, where I feel safe and not like I'm going insane (like I do most of the time these days). It's not a physical place, but a mental one, I guess much like attaining Nirvana (no I'm not Bhuddist). I don't want to find God or the origins of the universe. I'm happy just knowing that there IS a universe and that I'm a small part of it. For now, I will be happy finding Pemberley, and someone who will walk through the halls and explore with me.

Autumn in New York

Since I have so much free time these days (unemployment has it's perks), I've been getting out and trying to enjoy the season through pumpkin picking and trips to Central Park to take pictures and just general long walks to enjoy the mild weather and colors on trees. Keats would've appreciated how much I'm appreciating autumn.

I went to Central Park about a month ago with a friend to take pictures and most of the leaves had only just started changing color so we saw a lot of yellow and green. However, I went there yesterday with another another companion, henceforth referred to as R, and this time, there was definitely more color, along with bare branches. There were lots of reds and golden browns on the trees and the ground was carpeted with dry leaves. R wanted to jump into the leaves; it was probably out of fear that I would start crying that he didn't jump and drag me down. I don't like being too close to grass, trees, anything that contains insects. It might have also been because he felt like making up for the fact that he made me wait half an hour by myself in the cold, but I highly doubt it.

Despite the delay in arrival, we had a great day together. Well, I had a great day. I can't speak for my companion. R and I met by the ice skating rink where he rescued me from someone who was selling maps of the park and trying to make conversation with me. (Thank you, R) We walked around past the Great Lawn to the giant fountain (I'm sure it has a name, but I don't know it) and we stood by the lake for some time and watched the ducks and contemplated boating. Eventually, we walked some more around the lake and, after making another stop on a bridge to take some pictures and admire the scenery, we made our way towards Strawberry Fields so I could pay my respects to John Lennon. I actually did write him a letter, and I left it among some trees near the memorial. Some cleaning person in Central Park is probably having a laugh at the fact that I wrote an emotional, heartfelt letter to a dead Beatle who will never read it, but I think the universe will get my sentiments across to the person it was meant for, whether dead or alive. It actually rained today so my letter may not be more than just a wet piece of paper, in which case it'll disintegrate and ink will be soaked into the ground along with my message, which would mean it's now part of the earth. Or maybe I just am insane.

After walking around the park, we went to eat at this Italian restaurant that had delicious wine and great pasta and tiramisu. We ate slowly and talked and just enjoyed the company before proceeding to a department store all the way down by the World Trade Center site to buy shoes for R, after which we just talked some more over coffee. All-in-all, a day to really put someone into a "New York state of mind." As much as this sounds like a date, I assure you, it wasn't.

I suddenly have all these romanticized thoughts about New York. Ever notice how many characters are from New York? In Entourage, the boys are from NYC, as is the main character in Californication and one of the couples in the new Melrose Place. McDreamy and McSteamy from Grey's Anatomy are both from NY also. It's also funny how when a character has an attitude that is generally not appreciated, he's from NYC. Rick from the classic Casablanca for example. I also watched a movie a few weeks ago called "Saints and Soldiers" where all the soldiers are talking about where they are from and the one who was angering the rest of them turned out to be from NYC. I watched another movie, a German film called "Rosenstrasse" (GREAT movie by the way. I would highly recommend it) where the main character is skeptical about the values her mother tries to instill in her, and of course she is from NY. What is it about New Yorkers that makes them such great characters, not only in tv and movies, but also in books? (The main character in "A Farewell to Arms" is a New Yorker)

Well, while I ponder that, here are some pictures from my day. I wore my new red jacket and boots.

The Right Shade of Red

For a while now, I've been looking for the perfect red coat. Red is supposed to be a strong, confident color that is memorable and makes a statement, and who doesn't want to exude an aura of strength and confidence and be memorable? I'm also a very picky person who needs things to be JUST right, so I needed the perfect material, cut, shade, color of buttons, etc. etc. Today, after months of looking, I found one that fits my criteria. The search, however, uncovered some very interesting designs.

Marshmallow meets Michelin Man:




The British are coming!



We finally found the perfect one, but then we forgot to take pictures.

Hopefully will have an interesting day tomorrow, have some plans that I'm looking forward to. Planning on taking some pictures in my new jacket and boots and bag tomorrow. I swear, I DON'T spend all my time shopping, I just get excited when I find things I really like.

Mr. Reagan, the wall is down...

...at least it is in Berlin. It's been many years since President Reagan made his famous speech. Infact, the Berlin wall was torn down 20 years ago today. Most people talk about these great historical events and ask each other where they were or what they were doing at the time. I don't know what I was doing when the wall came down. I don't have any memories of that day, I was only 3 years old and living in suburban New Jersey. In fact, the only memory I have of the Berlin wall involves one of the pieces that is in New York. This is actually one of the things I love about living in New York, you can wander around or be on your way to some relatively mundane place like a department store, take the wrong turn somewhere, and end up seeing something completely random. I was headed to a clothing store to help a friend buy work clothes and I decided to take the turn a block earlier and behold...the Berlin Wall. I knew there was a piece of the wall in NY so I wasn't entirely surprised, but it was still a shock to randomly run into a piece of history (literally!!) like that. Touching the wall, I hoped I would get some sort of vibe, something reminding me what the piece of concrete in front of me symbolized, but it did't. I felt nothing special; I was simply touching a slab of concrete. Did that mean I didn't appreciate history? That can't be, I know the dates of every major battle in the Second World War, I can go pretty far back when naming US presidents chronologically, I know the names of all the wives of Henry VIII and the Mughal emperors, why didn't the Berlin Wall mean anything to me?

I've always wanted to go to Germany. I took German in highschool because I always felt like Germany was a place I needed to go, like something there was waiting for me. Maybe it's high time I took that trip.

Letting it be...

Life seems to be just a continuous opening of one can of worms after another doesn't it? For those familiar with Chemical Engineering terms, almost like a CSTR (Continuous Stirred Tank Reactor). You enter a phase thinking you'll pass through with minimum turbulence, and then the stirrer kicks in and just mixes in all the issues you wanted to avoid. No, I'm not depressed. Quite the opposite really. I'm strangely happy.

Life has been turbulent lately, there's no denying that. It's hard to find a job, still waiting on response from graduate school, and lets not even get started on the love life, but the cloud that was fogging my mind is starting to clear. I might sound completely insane for saying this but it was all thanks to a dream I had involving a very famous personality.

John Lennon has no idea who I am. He died several years before I was even born. Perhaps the only connection we have is that we both adopted New York City as our home. I guess that, and the fact that I love his work, was enough of a connection for him to pay me a visit. Obviously, the entire thing was just my subconscious telling me what I was consciously rationalizing or avoiding, but I still like to give Mr. Lennon the credit. I mean, it could have been a giant green blob telling me the same thing, but it was not, it was John Freaking Lennon! Can't ignore that now can I? I woke up the next morning mulling over "his words" and felt great. My same problems were still present, but I suddenly felt like my mind had the clarity to deal with them, and that things really would get better one day. I've been thinking of paying a visit to his memorial at Central Park one of these days and paying my respects, even wrote a letter, but perhaps he already knows whatever it is I want to say. Someone said to me the other day, "You are talking about him as if he's God or something." Clearly, that's not true, but is it so hard to believe that someone who inspired millions of people, who had so many great things to say, who wanted people to stop hurting each other can actually reach out to someone who's troubled and in need of some guidance? If there's any way the universe can send him a message for me, I don't want to tell him how his work has inspired me, I don't want to tell him how great his music or that I will make sure my children, if I ever have any, will grow up hearing his songs. I would simply like to say the following: Mr Lennon, sir, thank you for saving whatever little bit of sanity I have left.

Hello world, it's me, Pratima

This is all my friend's fault. I've always been against this whole blogging thing, why would I want to tell my thoughts to the whole world? I'm just old school; I like pen and paper and a diary that resides between the mattress and the box spring, hidden from all prying eyes. However, my dear friend, somehow, made me think this is a good idea, and honestly, at 2am after watching my favorite chick flick for the 500th time, anything seems like a good idea. So why not? Maybe I will have a few semi-intelligent thoughts to share with others and entertain a few people. Maybe this may be the best way to get my thoughts across the universe. However, if this is totally lame, I blame my friend Furry!