Saturday 26 April 2014

'Face'book

I’m not going to sing the praises of facebook here. People are paid to do that. I’m not.
My profile picture (a.k.a. DP. For those of you who have no idea what it stands for , let me be the ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ by saying it stands for descriptive picture) is Leonardo Di Caprio. Yes I’m a female. Yes I don’t look like Leo. Meh. Who does?
I am aware of the unspoken rule that people ought to keep a picture of their face (read selfie) as their DP.  Let me elaborate on that. Facebook is for meeting new people(I guess). Now wouldn’t it be enough for a stranger to know your gender and where you’re from (optional) apart from your name? Does he/she have to know how many moles you have on your face or how many hairs you have on your eyebrow?  It’s a stranger for god’s sake. He/she is supposed to know how you look like only if you trust him/her enough to meet in person which I’m sure most of you would blatantly refuse to do. So why trust him/her with your picture? How can you be sure he won’t use your picture in unimaginable (remember that Goundamani joke where they use his picture for ‘aangal kakkoos’ or gents toilet for the less enlightened ones) ways?
"Dafaq am I doing here"?
"I was just giving life advice"
"Huh.Keep doing such important services to humanity"
I'm so funny.
                                             
Okay. Lets talk about friends (read college mates, school mates, colleagues). They see you every day in person. Do they have to see you whenever they log on to check their notifications too? Aren’t you torturing them enough?  Now lets go to group photos. The whole idea of a group photo is(should be, in my opinion) it would be difficult to actually find out which one of the 2(3,4,5...) is you. But this only works if you haven’t tagged people or if this is your first picture. (‘they’ say the ugliest one in a group picture is the person who uploaded the picture but who am I to judge?). So frankly this won’t work for anyone except for people who get this joke.
Haha. Gets me every time. By the way this is Chemistry cat.
No amount of information is too much.
                                                 
On a more serious note, people say "those who cant accept themselves(apparently because they hide behind a celebrity) cannot accept others". Well why would I want to accept people who I don't know? If I really did want to accept them I would just go meet them. Letting people see your face doesn't qualify as acceptance. There are MANY other ways and you're just too shallow to understand them.
Others say "people who don't have their photos on Facebook are ugly.That's why they don't want to show their face". You haven't seen me. Yet you've already judged me. I can't expect people like you who think beauty is having a photogenic(not pretty but photogenic) face AFTER you've edited it to actually understand whatever I tell you. So I WONT explain myself to them.
Let’s face it. We all do it to get likes. Just like how we do a bunch of other stuff on Facebook(don’t deny it). The like button is there for a reason. Yes.
I hope this truckload of likes satisfies your even bigger ego.
Just kidding.Or not.No one will ever know.
                                     
The above paras that I have written after years of research, hard work and joblessness is the reason why I don’t have my pretty(ahem) face as my DP. But let me confess. If I do get the ‘perfect DP shot’(after editing it of course) I shall not delay a single minute (What? How long can one resist the fad?). And I bet you that picture will get 80+ likes. If it doesn’t then I shall remove all traces of its existence. I assure this shall happen when Fevicol ads stop being awesome or when they decide to rope in someone other than Abhishek Bachan for idea ads or when I stop using 9gag. (P.S. they’re not going to happen anytime soon so yay I don’t have to download photo editing softwares).
Everyone’s happy right?
Enough internet for today. Sorry Big B. Couldn't resist.
                             

Sunday 20 April 2014

The almighty blanket

Night-time. Darkness. Eerie , silent darkness. You sense a phantom hand trying to grab your leg. What do you do? Pull it inside your blanket of course. Roll yourself into a ball and cover yourself with that single piece of cloth. Sounds familiar?
This is me. Every night. 

Blankets are the only form of protection against evil beings known to man. Monsters under the bed, the girl from the ‘ring’, Mike Wozawski all have one thing in common. They fear blankets. Every single spirit known to exist quails in the presence of that formidable cotton/woollen cloth. This might come as a surprise for people but the blanket, apart from protecting the wearer from harm, death and destruction, also serves to keep him/her warm. No Really. My current blanket is a woollen one. It even looks scary. But it's big. So I don’t have to twist my body into uncomfortable positions to fit into it. It's summer here in Chennai. And that means I'm always bathed in my own sweat and grime. I can practically HEAR you all asking me why in the freaking world would I be using a blanket then.

Well there's something worse than ghosts here. Mosquitoes. Those nasty unscrupulous blood sucking mutations. Yes. I do have Mortein (it’s a brand that makes mosquito repellent coils and stuff that work as much as I do on a Sunday.).
Here.Have a Mortein.
                                             
I did buy a mosquito bat once. It’s a device that electrocutes mosquitoes so much so that not even their singed mangled bodies are left behind. Pure heaven. But good things seldom last. The bat broke. And this time it wasn't me who broke it. It was my cousin. He's 3 years old. And you know what 3 year olds do. The next thing I know the bat’s broken and the plaster from the wall lay scattered on the floor. Okay so the mosquitoes won that round. Great. And after that the assault started again. They got worse at night. So you see I had no other choice but to cocoon myself inside my blanket and try to ignore the fact that I was feeling exactly like how a cookie would feel inside an oven. But I'm a messy sleeper. So in the middle of the night when my fort(a.k.a. blanket) is broken and my defenses are down, the mosquitoes start their well planned attack. They succeed. I wake up. Squat a few. Then strengthen my fort. It’s a vicious cycle. Ah well. I heard there's this new mosquito repellent card in the market. It promises to kill all the mosquitoes in 2 minutes. Hmm. I wonder how much 200 of them would cost.

Thursday 17 April 2014

The concept of Blogging

I don’t fancy blogs. But I do like the concept of blogging. Blogs are supposed to be online diaries. Which means a blogger MUST blog daily which might prove inconvenient to people who don’t even have time to wash behind their ears.But not to me because I don’t write in my diary daily. I write once a year. That too only if it happens to be an eventful year. And I haven't had many eventful years. So the ‘use blog like a diary' rule isn't going to bother me. Rules never do.  Not even ‘danger zone. Do not enter’. Yeah. I’m a badass.
I'm from India. So my dad gets no less than 10 diaries every year. So I've been associated with diaries right from the time when I was a baby. Of course I had no idea what I was supposed to use them for at that time. And I still haven't figured it out. But that's not the point.
Most of my doodles looked like this
When I was about 5 I learnt to write. And by write I meant join letters. In cursive of course. Those diaries were my solace. I would have hardly written a sentence that made sense but I was 5. Cut me some slack. When I was 7 I stated writing these "description" essays. You know those 'my mom, my dad, my pet, my school etc with crappy text and alignment. (I used sketch pens. What can you expect?) Not to mention the language. Most of the space in the page (including the ones near that day’s date at the top and the all days of the month at the bottom) was filled with doodles and drawings of the thing I was currently 'descriptive essaying'. (The one in ‘my role model’ was super-worse. I had to draw Rahul Dravid. Go figure). When I was 11 my mom used to give me these handwriting practices. (My handwriting wasn't that bad but you know.Mothers.humph!). They were hell. But I used to draw these cartoons and give them these speech bubbles with stupid immature dialogues that were nowhere near funny. (I have no regrets. I was 11.Everything's funny when you're 11).
Then when I was 15 I started to write the 'once in year' diary that I had mentioned. Most of it was teenage drama.(not mine because I was as interesting to people as a beanstalk). I STILL scribbled. I still drew cartoons and gave them speech bubbles. The only difference was the dialogues had the I's and the first letter after the ‘.’ capitalized. Then suddenly when I turned 17 the entire extra 'dad diaries' collection vanished. But that was because I had used them to practice for my 12th boards. Yeah. I was a good student. Meh. Then I decided to write (oops I mean type) a blog. I started with the enthusiasm of a kid who had found his lost power ranger toy.(Tsk.Kids). It was alright for a few DAYS. Then I began to miss those speech bubbles and my awesome font (yeah I have my own font. It’s called my handwriting). I hadn't written a diary. I had typed a paragraph. People do that for their thesis. Not to express their feelings.  I didn't feel the connection. It was all systematically aligned, spaced and justified. I had no idea how I was feeling while I typed that blog because I had no cartoons to guide me. (normally if I was happy my speech bubbles would be like “I have to tell you this joke werky(?).Why did the cow cross the road? To get to the udder side.hahaha.” It's funny.Come on.)

But as always we're programmed to adapt to change. So I will continue blogging. But once my ‘dad diaries’ shelf resumes its full glory, its back to square one. How long can one remain without their speech bubbles? Ah those were the days. And all you people who are going ’Tsk tsk. Doodling on paper? Did she even give a thought to those poor trees?’ , tell that to those teachers that tell us poor students to ‘write spaciously. Write 1 question per page. Oh it’s for 1 mark? So what? You'll get plenty of additional sheets. Don’t show your concern for the environment in your answer paper.’