Ink-blue finger tips

I wanted to write something.
You know those nights when you're just itching to write? I'm not sure if you know,
But you crave to hear the intensely fast clatter of the keypad as you move your fingers at lightening fast speed or the squeaky high frequency scribble on a sparkling white piece of ruled paper?
Yes that.

Writing is immeasurable happiness to me,

So I thought I'll start writing and see where it takes me,
Because words, they take you traveling. You start at one pole and end at another, and the story in the middle is what manifests on its own.You think you're doing it, but you're really not. That's the thing about wordplay, its insanely mysterious and double-insanely powerful.
This could be really messy because I'm letting my words flow,
But then again,
That's writing to me.

Today I use the keyboard to type words, 

but writing with a blue fountain pen with ink dripping all over my fingers was close to heaven.

The smell of ink is divine. If dawn and dusk had a scent then the smell of ink is the smell of dawn and dusk with a white lily in it.

The shabby ink blue finger tips that last for days is a happy memory of a peaceful hour gone dreaming, rummaging and scribbling. 

Writing is a life within a life. Blue words on white crisp paper take you into a new world where you need nothing but your words to add color, glitter and sparkle to your story. These same simple words have the capability to make us feel things. Deep Human emotions! Two words can make you want to rip somebody's head apart and one word can make a life-long friend.Sometimes half a word is enough to fall in love. Some power isn't it?

And words, they make you feel so vulnerable and vulnerable is so damn scary but so beautiful! Where you let it all out and place it messily on a piece of paper. This is me, all of me, nothing more, nothing less. Nobody else could bring out that kind of unconditional vulnerability.

But these words, little buggers made of alphabets, they've got double standards too,
They make you feel vulnerable yet extremely powerful. They help you communicate and sometimes they help you stay away from communication. They help you love and hate, they help you imagine and ideate. Little love letters, novels, a thesis on archeology. Emotions, history and philosophy. They're all but words. Nothing more nothing less.

After all,
It all starts with ink blue finger tips and a whole lot of happiness.

Pajamas or Killer Pants?

Aren't we lost sometimes in this extremely convoluted world?
Don't we feel really little sometimes?
Like tiny humans in this big world of lots of  choices?
Between all the big dreams and all the humongous desires, between practicality and idealism, between people and between things, amongst feelings floating deep inside?
Its funny how we get lost so often,
In the midst of what we have and what we really want, whether its love, money, success or fame? Or maybe we're just greedy (Insert cuss word).

I had to make the decision too,
Between I-am-floating-in-soft-cotton-clouds-and-I-dont-think-Im-wearing-anything-oh-my-god-this-feels-so-Liiiiiiberating Pajamas, and tight black pants with a sexy golden zipper and cutesy pockets. I did not know what I wanted to be.
I felt like lounging around reading a good old smelling book in a grey sweatshirt and those dream pajamas.
But then, I also wanted to strut around wearing those killer pants with a sparkling cocktail in one hand and a Chanel Bag in the other.

& Then I thought, who am I?

Okay, this was just about clothes. Such a silly thing. Go on, I can hear the snigger.

But don't we feel like this often?
About really crucial choices in our life. The tug of war between simplicity and fanciness. Two sides of the same coin?
Choosing between a cup of skimmed milk coffee and a caramel frappuccino topped with a thick payer of cream swirls? Choosing between a small job that pays a big buck and a big job that hardly pays? Choosing between soul searching and clothes hunting ? Choosing between saying the truth and hurting feelings or saying a lie and creating sparkles? and obviously between Pajamas and Bodycon dresses?

 Is it really the choices in life that makes us?




Too Sombre for the first post of the year. Blame it on the hormones ;)

PS - I bought both the Pajamas and the Killer black Pants. Complicated beings.