He loves me.. He loves me not..

Know that feeling?

When you assume(more often than not) someone is in love with your man and is doing all she can do to get him into her clutches....
Those bleak days of cold uncertainty when you casually drill him about the calls he got for the day and if "Anyone.. no one in my mind, though" from his past tried to pop in suddenly...
And then after you've been so blatantly obvious about the whole thing, try to cover it up in a guilty "Oh, i'm only doing this to protect our marriage you know... I dont want anyone butting in"..

I know the feeling only too well....

PaRt one of the great saga of silly wife writing soppy poems about a girl who didnt want her man in the first place...
Silly wife writing silly soppy poem to drown her embarassment

1... 2... 3..

Written on a balmy Thursday night :

You probably love him too,
Only, not the way I do
Or do you think the same of me?

Yours was obviously not meant to be
But then if it didn't, how else would he belong to me?
Should I then be thankful to you?

How thin it is....this line that separates
The would-have-beens with the never-to-bes
And how morbid, the thought that precedes the dawning of it....

Will the past, because of its unbroken state
Then shatter the fragile present?
Will it tear and rip open and eat away at us?

Will it link?
Act as a bridge,
And connect?

Will it fester?
Confuse,
And trick Just Conscience?

Will it linger in the threads of memories?
Creep back into dazed reminiscence,
Paint its way on forgotten rainbows.....

Will it just go away,
I hope.....

The end.


Sheesh....

I bleat as I bloat

(Excerpt from the diary of a teen mother)

The worst thing about pregnancy is that you pee every time you sneeze (in addition to every time you cough, or breathe really hard, or sigh, or screw your eyes to figure out an iota of substance in the ‘Wild Elephant’ billboards fifty metres in front of you…)
It has come to affect me so much, that I now carry an extra pair of underwear and hope in every fibre of the universal trait that I wouldn’t ever get in an accident and have someone open my bag and check out the hideous grey wreck three times bigger than an average woman’s.

I am nineteen and pregnant... and look it.
Yes, it was an accident and no, it wasn’t anybody’s fault.

My back aches, my breastbone aches, my shoulders ache and my (ahem) down there also aches. I’ve transformed into this bundle of aches and pains.
I can’t run, I cant jump I cant play volley…. I cant walk down the lane to get Tipi Tip, which apparently has Ajinomoto in it and that, I have been told, is lethal for my baby, and “would you please stop eating it or you’re going to mess everything up?”.
But amazingly, I feel no grudge, no anger and absolutely no regrets at all for having the baby.

It is amazing how considerably ‘mellowed’ I’ve got ever since I had him in my life…it’s a ‘him’ today… and yeah, I can tell because I’m the mother(Hell, I’m a mother now and I might as well use the term to my benefit once in a while)…
And I’ve caught him move too… it’s amazing… like a whale breaking the surface of water… I can do nothing but stare at my tummy endlessly for hours on end.
And Google “Unusual Persian, African and Arabian names” for the little rat.

I am highly attached to it. I imagine him at one, two, three and picture how adorable he’ll be. That’s all I know… that he’ll be one of the most adorable kids I’ve ever seen…. His features are a blur. In those rare moments of realization, when sense kicks into me, I merge his father’s and my appearance together and come up with a sort of distorted beard-y version of a kid and it freaks me out so much that I stop and resume my face-less, chubby-bodied kid daydream.

Sometimes I get all pensive and wonder if the world will be a better place for him, if politicians will learn to squander for the poor and if my child will ever take me seriously.
Sometimes I get all hung up on the tiny details of my own childhood and wonder if they will ever reflect in my baby.
Will he love animals and equally love pinching their tails? Will he look both smart and lost at the same time? Will he master the art of talking his way out of situations?
Sometimes I wonder if I would want my child to take after me...

Getting married (and staying married), is not the big deal. The bigger deal is when you are responsible for the material and intellectual nourishment of a kid. The bigger deal is when you have to be the kid’s ears, eyes and nose (and buttocks) for like the better part of the first decade of his life.
The bigger deal is when you have to stop going to college and help the kid out with homework, boycott regularly watched and memorized and watched again reruns of SpongeBob for a few hours of shut-eye knowing that you’ll need to bank in every bit of sleep you can get.
Yes, I’ve been warned and how do I feel?
Not worried, amazingly. I have currently adopted the stance of a trekker, treating the future as adventure and welcoming it whole-heartedly.

I love my baby. I can’t wait for him to come out.
But I cannot, cannot stand to think about the whole delivery process… can it be anything but gory and blood-drenched?
And can people please stop asking me if I dread it or not?

Seven and a half good reasons why procrastinators procrastinate

1) In the highly magnificent circle of life, time plays a major part in everything that happens. It is the very core of it all. A procrastinator, in defying time and twisting the great circle of life to fit into his or her own warped schedules, technically becomes a master then, of everything in the universe!

2) They are always late, so tomorrow always seems the better day to do it.

3) It’s interesting to see if the person on the receiving end will buy your excuses of your grandmother dying a second death. Coming up with probable excuses is more of a daunting challenge and that appeals to some people so much so that they create scenarios in which they could silently giggle at outwitting the other person with a dumb excuse.

4) They believe in the over-rated importance of inspiration hitting them, and wait for it to happen. This can lethally take up to weeks, months and billions of seconds of endless, fruitless waiting, and when they finally get down to business, they’ll find that the inspiration they were looking for was always there. Only thing they couldn’t see it.

5) Which brings me to the fifth point: They never learn! A procrastinator can dish up brilliant work when they are finally forced, and then they look at what they’ve done and they go “oh, well that was interestingly easy. I could have done that ages ago,” but the next time they are given something to do they always opt to do it some other time. They never learn.

6) The whole idea of borrowed time is so tempting and makes it look as if you’ve got loads of hours on you shoulders today even though you’ll be cramped tomorrow.

7) And they are lazy.
Plus, they always have something better to do.

7 1/2) Their existence spices up the gene pool and contributes to the concept of ‘variety in people’! True! After all, it does take all sorts of people to form a world!
Half a reason, because it’s not a reason really…. it just makes a procrastinator feel better!