Synonyms for wretched - deplorable, execrable, miserable, woeful

Looked up Google for synonyms of wretched, that's a good word for the current mood. But didn't like the synonyms, I would not explain it in those words precisely.

Am I menopausal yet, these mood swings are unpredictable and dark. N to be fair to menopausing, I've been this way forever - aint the hormones, I've got the blues in my blood.

Hehehe... like that blue blooded has a different twist now huh!

As always, when blue.. ( say blue aloud... the endless possibility of the last vowel is beautiful)I turn inward, reflect, mull over, sink into, decimate, disseminate and fall into myself that soaks in and embalms in the churning.

Attribute it to Ayn Rand. Howard Roark is everyone's ideal and quintessential hero. I'm living Dominique. Can't shake her. I loved the anger, pain, rage, misery and the helplessness.

Have taken refuge under her skin right now.

That should explain why I'm sinking. Had I a Roark to fight for, would very much have done the same thing.

We fight for that which we love, we fight hard against losing that which we love and fight hardest to desensitise ourselves from the pain that is brought on by too much loving.

To the point that you distance yourself from that which is your life blood......

Mine's blue.

Amanda is 16

16 years ago, at 12:25 p.m., Amanda my daughter made a grand and premature entry into the world, she was born in 7 months and three weeks and scared the beejeesus out of us.

In 16 years of motherhood, I have been elated, elevated, ecstatic, irritated, buggered and battered. Makes you mortal, vulnerable and defenceless while keeping you at the top of the world.

Amanda is an old soul.. she tears me apart with her silences and when she does laugh and live uninhibitedly, she makes this life worth a zillion times than it really is.

My greatest teacher... is my daughter and thank what heavens may be for that!

So, Mumma.. who reads your blogs anyways

Was the question my daughter asked me yesterday. I fibbed through my teeth ( Anjali would say, "aiyyo Melli with teeth like those, even an elephant can get through!) and said, 'oh.. lot's of people do'. You should have seen the look of pure disbelief on her face.

Got me thinking though. Do I write for others or myself? The truth lies somewhere in between I guess. But oh yes.. I do look for comments ( quite desperately at times) and do want to know what the opinion on what I write and how I write is....

Yours truly!!!

The Anna agitation

There's part of me that finds the idea of engaging in dramatic activity to make my point quite exciting and yet there is the rational that despises it.

When the idea of the lokpal bill surfaced, it seemed as refreshing as rain on parched earth, cos' that's what we want isn't it?

An ideal state sans corruption. Even if we are activists of corruption in the first place with many of what we do, surmounting to corruption and bribery in some form or the other. From the cop who catches you on the phone while driving, to the children's school teacher. Bribe coated in sugar and spice and everything nice.

Have read so much on the Lokpal bill now and while its a terrific idea... the who and what is the big Q.

Somehow.. dont think too much of the Anna either and without respect... you cannot sustain a movement, an agitation or even a thought.

Anti-corruption needs to be an attitude, a way of life and a part of our conscience. If that is understood and accepted, Lokpal will be a as natural as breathing.

Har Ek friend Zaroori Hota Hai

Love the advert by Airtel.

We need all kinds of friends dont we? Even those who tear you apart into smithereens.. The primary purpose of friendship is to heal anothers and one's own soul and to be that person who is natural without artifice.

The comfort of being with a friend is like waking in the morning, lookin your worst, bad breath n all... n feelin like a queen..

The pillars that hold this fragile soul are friends who laugh away my tears.

And I wait.. to be blown to smithereens...

Exist!

Its been a year almost that I havent blogged. I guess thats the lazy me.. A lot has happened in the 12 months gone by. I have lived a few lifetimes.. born a few times, died many other..
While the angst is still present, its mellowed and restrained.. is it the passing of time that erodes away and eats into the disquiet or am I older.. and therefore wiser?
I will not make claims on the latter.

From the recesses of my mind
I cough up and dreg
a now forgotten pain
Or so I delude myself

If it has manifested
Serrated and seared
festered and fetid
It's alive

I lie to myself
that it doesnt exist
while all the while
it keeps me alive

Monsoon adventures

I guess the only time I can sit down and blog ( not that i do it standin otherwise.. ;) .. ) is when i hear the sound of rain.. I think I was concieved on a rainy day.. There is this stubborn streak in my DNA that rejoices at the smell, the feel, the taste and the sound of rain..
In Mangalore now, home. But the journey here was nothing short of a nightmare, what with the flight landing in Cochin and travelling from there on a 16 hour bus journey sitting over the rear tyres of the bus.. I have a healthy respect for the wads of tyres on my own hips now...

As always... Mangalore is green, beautiful, charming and very very dangerous. The roads are a killer.. But I will not go into the downside of home.. for now.. the heart sings and all is well with the world... to a frog... her well is paradise... n so be it!