Crap

They make exceptional executives. Always on time, they have everything planned out – probably even have a plan on how to go about making a plan for a plan for the next day’s events. Who knows! These people will always know what it is that they can do, and thus, take up responsibilities accordingly. They won’t take more work than they can finish, and will always submit assignments on time. But they won’t compromise on their time-table, and emotions towards another’s plight may take a back-seat if they think that pity might cause them any back-log.

kiinda monotonous, doncha think? somehow, they never feel what is like to stay up all night finishing an assignment – and their minds are never stimulated by those last-minute pangs of fight-or-flight…figure their lives are too perfect for their own good!

Then there are the second type. The me type. Read the rest of this entry »

A buhbye to Flip, my cellfone.

Had been home, barely a few days now. And after all the monotonies of ‘missed you’, i’d found faith in my feet for the first time, in over 3 months, and ventured down for football. Call it addictive compulsion, but i’d taken my cellfone (christened Flip) with me when i left the house for my trip unto the prospective bliss that football seemed to be, albeit twas only in the confines of the building with a few children for company!

My pockets resisited, and spoke indifference unto Flip, compelling me to lay it aside while we played, for fear of the rebellious pockets ejaculating my precious possession while i pranced as a child ’round the ball. Choosing a trusty spot, which had served me before too, when my pockets had refused to baby-sit my fone while i frolicked, i lay my fone down, rubbishing a timid youngster when he chose to alert me of prospective hazards of committing such an act. After all, i would be playing less than 15 feet from where my precious Flip rested, and twas a locale all too homely for thieves to visit unto their selfish ends.

So, Flip rested, and i played. Simple.

However, a continuum of bliss is often marred with inconsistency. I was moronic enough to go on a stroll with friends, while Flip lay there. In silence. In solitude. Once or twice, i thought of my fone, but then, laze, so inherent in my mettle, coupled with faith unto the safety of that spot, and my murderous belief in the goodness that humanity ought to possess, all assembled together to let me complete my commitment to the stroll before venturing back to my erstwhile possession. Erstwhile, yes, since, on my return, anticipation of a waiting fone was quickly replaced by agony of loss.

Loss of a companion, of an addiction, of whatever a classy fone could be to a boy in today’s age.