To Vote Or Not To Vote...

Till this morning, I hadn't decided whether I would vote or not. One major reason for that was that I hadn't yet decided who I was going to vote for. In the end, I finally dragged myself to the polling booth. As I stood in front of the electronic voting machine, I was almost tempted to cast my vote by doing "In pin safety pin, in pin out".

As a child, I always used to hear/read stories of the triumph of good over evil. Forget that, even in movies, you see Uncle Sam's heroes vanquishing all evil; be it villains, terrorists, aliens, dinosaurs etc etc. When it comes to elections, is there ever a clear cut demarcation between good and evil? Today, I did not choose good over evil. I chose the lesser evil of them all. (At least that's what I think; only time will tell whether I am right or wrong!)

P.S. I have never been able to show the middle finger to anyone. I find it very off-putting. Even when I am hopping mad and swearing left right and centre, I have never been able to do it. Once, I tried to see how it looks; by raising my middle finger in front of a mirror, and was absolutely disgusted by the image. But today, I will gladly show my finger to anyone!!

Autobiography Of A Doormat

I don't like this title one bit. I refuse to accept that I am a doormat. I was a tapestry (What am I saying! Not was; I am still a tapestry) and used to adorn the wall. I was used to being admired. Sure there were critiques as well, but I accepted those gladly (and sometimes not so gladly, I must admit). I was aware that not many would like my bright and bold colors; I knew that in some places I was beginning to get frayed. But I accepted it all; the bouquets and the brickbats. You might even call me vain; after all, I used to hang opposite the mirror. It gave me ample opportunity to preen all day long! But the mirror also showed me my flaws and kept me grounded (or should I say walled?).

I never realized why I was taken off from the wall and slammed in front of the door one day. Or maybe the process had already started, but I didn't want to accept it. I should have realized it when the brickbats began to outnumber the bouquets. Or when I was being taken for granted, it was almost as if it didn't matter whether I hung on the wall or not. Who was I kidding; I should have known I am not irreplaceable. The wall might stay empty for a few days after I was taken down, but it wouldn't take long for a painting or another tapestry to fill the gap again.

Sometimes I wonder if this is just a temporary phase or the beginning of the end. It hurts me physically when I am trampled upon; it hurts me mentally when I see all the dust and grime on me. Even if I am given a breather and sent to the cleaners once in a while, there's always this nagging feeling at the back of my head that the dust is going to be back again. I worry that if this continues I am going to forget all about the old days. Right now, I am still able to shake off the dust. But if things don't change, how long can I continue dusting myself and hope that I will be back on the wall?

Friends Friends...And So It Ends

"So, I guess this is goodbye"

"Only, if you want it to end. I want us to be friends even afterwards."

"You know, it?s not possible. I can never think of you as just a friend"

"But I don't want it to end. We have been such good friends all this time. Why can't we forget everything and just move on?"

"You have already moved on, haven't you? You don't need me now."

*********************************************

"I have been meaning to tell you this since so long. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I hope you feel the same way too."

"Uhh, but we have been friends for so long. We have been with each through our hookups and breakups with others. It would be too weird."

"No, it won't. We know everything about each other, so no surprises there. And I know you feel the same way too. Please say yes. We'll always be good friends, if it works out or not."

"Yes" (* Thinks if it really is the correct step. How do you know where friendship ends and love begins? Does being habituated to someone mean you are in love?)

*********************************************

"I have met someone special, and I want you to two to meet."

"This is a big surprise. I never thought you were in a serious relationship."

"I was waiting for the right moment. And now that I know for sure, I want you to like each other. You're my best friend, and I want us three to be good friends too."

"Congratulations. I wish you all the happiness in the world. I am a little busy these days, but will let you know when all of us can go out." (* Thinks I may not want to marry you, I am pretty sure that I am not in love with you, but still losing you to someone else is not something I look  forward to.)

*********************************************

Retail Therapy May Be Good For My Soul...

But not for my soles or wallet!

Having spent almost the entire last month in malls, I am ready to turn myself in rehab for shopping addiction!!! The only saving grace is that I wasn't shopping for myself. So, I am not completely beyond help!

I think I am turning into a mall rat. Almost every other weekend I visit the mall near my house and spend hours window-shopping. At least that's what I tell myself when I leave for the mall, but then it doesn't help if you have a shopaholic mom, the window-shopping inevitably turns into a guilty shopping trip. Guilty because I know that I already have a closetful of clothes, a shoe cubby which threatens to spill out every time I open it, and a collection of handbags/purses which is gathering dust. Pretty soon, I should be getting Shopper of the year award!

Put semi-nude pictures of models/actors and a sale ad in front of me, and my eyes will automatically focus on the sale ones! OK, that's a lie; I'll enjoy my fill of the semi-nude ones and then scan through the details of the sale; which mall, how much discount, sale period etc etc.

That's a far cry from the days, when shopping meant tagging along with parents to the local non-branded stores in small by lanes of the city; when shopping was restricted mostly to birthdays and festivals; when a new pair of shoes was supposed to last through one school term.

P.S.
How many handbags/shoes/clothes/jewellery should a normal female possess? To go one step further, let me add number of suitors also to this list. Is there ever a point when one can look back and say, "No more! I think that's enough!"