Its all bout being a WOMAN!

You Are a Total Girlie Girl

You love looking good, and wooing men with your womanly ways. You're so feminine, men are in awe of you ... which is a very good thing.

How Feminine Are You?

Guys Think You're Easy to Be With... But Not Easy

You're definitely a flirt - and a good one. But you also know that you shouldn't make a move on any cute guy who passes by. You save your seductive moves for someone who already knows the real you. That way, your sex appeal is just part of the whole package.

Are You An Easy Girl?

You Are 91% Feminist

You are a total feminist. This doesn't mean you're a man hater (in fact, you may be a man). You just think that men and women should be treated equally. It's a simple idea but somehow complicated for the world to put into action.

Are You a Feminist?

You Are A Girl!

Are you ever serious? Well, you're seriously playful. And guys are attracted to your girlish spirit and all the fun that follows. Your girlish, temper, however... well, they could live without that. Not to worry though, you never stay upset for long. It's off to the next adventure.

Are You A Girl Or a Woman?

The Last Laugh!

I don’t remember the last time I had a real laugh. The kind that make my stomach ache, my eyes wet n my lungs deflate. There have been times when me and my friends would fall on each other, topple over tables, hold hands or lean on shoulders’ for support until we can stand up straight again without the fear of falling down. Laughs at the water cooler where my laugh-induced shaky hand would spill half the water in the tumbler. Laughs at the post – midnight tripping sessions, where we would mercilessly harass an unsuspecting junior (NO! this is not ragging. We went on to become really good friends. What the hell! we were already friends then!) and laugh at her expense. Laughs at the dark corridors after the lights are turned off which result in more 'Hushhhhh’ than te 'Hahahaha'.

Therez nothing like a great hearty laugh. And its been a long while since I have indulged in one. Well… there have been those forced laughs when that old aunty in the neighborhood cracks the same joke the 4th time, those half-hearted smiles when u meet somebody you loath meeting, those nervous laughter to ease out awkward silences. Trust me, it doesn’t give the high an open, ‘I don’t care what the listeners think, life is a laugh-riot’ laugh gives - a laugh where u put the whole of yourself, leave behind all the worries and sigh at the end. Its such a joy!

I’m really looking forward to the next few days. I wont have a hearty laugh, m almost sure. But I hope to have atleast a heart-felt smile.

So temme, when was the last time you had a real laugh???

It Kills me to think

Below is a poem I wrote for a random school contest. The theme of the poem is unrequited love. I found it when I was digging for some lost papers. Now when I read it, I find it a lil corny. Thought I'l post it anyways. It goes like this....

It Kills me to think

You bring out the best in me
Every time I’m with you
I fall in love with myself.
Because I say to you
What I’ve never said before
I do for you
What I’ve never done before.

But it kills me to think that ‘m not to you, wot you are to me.


I remember every glance we exchanged
Every word we spoke, every moment we spend in silence.
But in your memories I may not even exist.

And it kills me to think that for you, ‘m just another woman
But your the standard by which I judge every man.


Every time u looked into my eyes and spoke nothing
I thought I read your silence right.
Every time I fought with you just to talk to you
I thought you could read my mind.
Every time I buried my dreams under yours
I thought you would know why.

And it kills me to think that you couldn’t see in my eyes
Wot I so wanted to say with my lips.

You met many women and moved on with life.
I met many men, but in everyman I met
I kept looking for YOU.

Whats between us can be created with none
Because all the magic comes to life, only when I’m with you.
Though unseen, I can deeply feel the heat
And with all my heart, I know you are irreplaceable.

And it kills me to think I can never feel the same feel again.

Brain Dead

Its been really long since I penned down something. After some 15 odd posts, its only natural that the initial excitement has died down. But there is more reason than this for the long silence Happy thoughts elude me completely. NO. All kinds of thoughts elude me - happy, sad, exciting, boring and revolutionary. I've become brain-dead. For somebody who feels alive only when her thoughts are tricking, it is indeed a distressing situation.

The real world around doesn't interest me anymore. Now that is not surprising. Because the real world has never aroused my spirit. I was always bored with te real world, real people. But I had this innate ability to create an internal world within myself and be safely tucked in there. yeah, I HAD that ability. That amazing ability to disconnect myself from te real world n connect with an inner world has been taken away. Now I grope for thoughts to fill my empty moments, but in vain. I have spent many a pensive moments in te past. And looks like I have pondered several times over everything that matters to me. Maybe, its time to move on and find new interests. For the sake of filling up empty moments, for te sake of feeling alive again.

Parzania - Movie Review

I read a review written by my sis on the Movie 'Parzania'. After she mailed it to me to edit it(which I failed to do), I have been nagging her to post it on her blog. Finally she did. But since shez been so out of blogging due to her hectic schedule, there r hardly any visitors. Thot of helpin her out by giving a link to te movie review. Its available at http://devils-advokate.blogspot.com.

Turning 24!! - Yippeee!/ Damn!!

Yup, I'm gonna turn 24!!! In a few days time.

And y this mixed feeling? Well... Birthdays are celebration time!! Though I cant exactly remember wen I 'celebrated' my b'day te last time. Neverthless, its a special day. Its te day u made ur grand entry into this world , te day u were born. And its a day ppl from far n near remember u, call u jus to wish u on ur spl day...u receive gifts, pamper urself and try to smile n laugh n have a good time!!And if u get to spend this day with ur loved ones, therez nothing like it. Yippeee!


Its also te day u turn a year older. Well...m not going to change or grow dramatically in t next 3 days leading to my b'day. Yet, its a definite mark. its a reminder tat u have spend tat many years in this world, tat ur heading towards change, tat ur growing up.. and unfortunately growing older too!! - Contrary to wot u have always thot. Atleast contrary to wot I have thot. I always thot I would stay young for ever, tat old age and its traumas were for other ppl. How naive!!! So wen te realization hits u, it doesn feel great. Next Sept I wil turn 25, then some day 30 (Oh! NO!). And age wil bring along with it myriad problems - wrinkles, diseases, aches n jus pure madness. (Mad at urself for te way ur, for not doing those things u should have done in ur youth , so on.) And if ur a woman, dont even talk bout it. Women grow older faster, both physically n emotionally. Men r so lucky. They get married late, grow up even later (muhahaha), have time for all te fun before they get serious in life. And even if a man is 35, he can still manage to look young (unless ofcourse if ur bald! but still, u cn try a hair transpant). But a 35 yr ol woman look ypung only if she is a super model or smthg. Err.. do anti-ageing creams actually work!??!!??! Cuz its not really a great sight to see urself growing paler n weeker! Damn!


Hey.. WAIT! This is my b;day post. Its supposed to be happy!!! And wot m I freting bout? (And te damn! took longer to explain tahn te yippee! )M still young!!! But so much to do n so lil time!!!

Happy Birthday to ME!!!

Growing up 'Parentless'

I stumbled on a beautiful blog recently. There was a particular post on the blogger's father's death. She had written a line which went something like " I thought one grew up when one had a child, but now I think one truly grows up wen one loses a parent". I spared a thought on all those people who lost one or both parents when they were young. It must have been really tough for them. They probably dint have a childhood cuz they had to grow up fast. Now wen I look back, I'm glad tat I have been tolerant to those parentless people I had met in my life. Sometimes they had driven me nuts. And I had conveyed it clear to them. But deep inside I had been understanding and forgiving.I realized that growing up fast had a toll on them. And today I'm glad that I did that.

Sad times are here to stay!!

PS (pre-script.. gee!) – I thought I should put this at the beginning of the post. The title of the post and the content may not be in-sync. I set out to write something very personal, but lost track and found myself in the middle of a wider conflict. But I hope I somehow get around to write what I really wanted to write. The following post can be a lil unorganized. Blame it on my current mood. What r blogs for after all? You can get people to read whatever crap u write n always back it up with an explanation that its ur personal space and nobody should judge. How clever r we bloggers??


What is so enchanting about ‘sadness’ that I keep inviting this unpleasant visitor into my life more often than others do? Why is it that I always have (erm.. find rather) a problem to sulk, rant or cry over? I’ve tried probing myself further on the matter, but failed with little result. I spend way too much time thinking, analyzing and dissecting everything that makes any significance and sense to me. Some one called my generation ‘The over-analytical generation’. He couldn’t have been more right. Like I said to a friend later - our generation feels a need to delve deep into everything, fretting over the regular things (read those things which have been done by generations without thinking twice), wanting to be different, trying to be rebellious, but in the end either messes it all up or just ends up doing exactly what our parents’ generation did. And to think that they did it all without fretting. And to make things worse, I realized, I can be taken as the best example. Well that said, I made a remark that we have just ourselves to bank on. And my friend readily agreed. I was a lil disappointed. I was secretly hoping that she thought otherwise. I wanted to believe that the world is indeed a rosy place, only I’m messed up in the head to carry such lousy thoughts. N, u shattered me! Do I need more reasons to be sad?



Back to wot I started out with … I always find a reason to cry. Maybe I really have reasons to cry or its just that my thinking process is totally screwed up. And I envy all those happy souls – I envy the sheer luck of the ones who have ‘more reasons’ to be happy and envy the contentment of those who I think have ‘fewer reasons’ to be happy. I read somewhere “Don’t tell others your problems. 70% don’t care and the rest 30% are glad”. Well… In that case, you cant make others any happier by narrating your happy stories either. Don’t get me wrong people. I do feel happy for others. But sometimes, I’m just not in the mood. Holy shit! I lost track again…


I constantly indulge in self –assessment, listing out my inadequacies, regretting the wrong things I have done, cursing myself for the right things I have never done, so on. I either cling on to my past or worry over my future, all the while neglecting the present. And when the current ‘present’ becomes the past, I cry over losing that to. I wish I could live life for the moment! Life would have been so much happier!!!



My current mood is that of regret. Regret for not valuing some people who had crossed paths with me at various phases in my life. When they were with me, I created a wall around cuz I though they dint meet my standards. I disregarded them, avoided them by feigning aloofness and sometimes even hurt them with my indifference. But I realized, each time a lil late, how much they really meant to me. I thought tearfully about all the loving gestures I received, all the timely help they extended, all the insightful talk we shared. And I realized that I truly miss their presence in my life. But today, things are different. I cannot reach out to them ever again, despite badly wanting to. I curse myself for not realizing the value of these people who actually valued n loved me. There are many others who met standards, whom I respected n loved and still continue to do so. But then with a heavy heart I realize that people are irreplaceable. People I have, cannot fill in for people I lost. Only ‘they’ can be ‘them’. I don’t need others in their place. This sense of loss will haunt me forever. But I repeat the same mistakes. Trip to sadness-ville is guaranteed.



P.S (This time it is post script) – Excuse me for all the grammatical n language errors. I can’t care less (remember bout blogger’s personal space and we being clever). Oh boy! This post can make me embarrassed on a more sensible day. I’m sure to delete it then. But I hope that all those people I hurt get to read this before that.

What's your blogging personality?

***Your Blogging Type is Pensive and Philosophical***


You blog like no one else is reading...
You tend to use your blog to explore ideas - often in long winded prose.
Easy going and flexible, you tend to befriend other bloggers easily.
But if they disagree with once too much, you'll pull them from your blogroll!


What's Your Blogging Personality?
http://www.blogthings.com/whatsyourbloggingpersonalityquiz/

Feminists –Anti –women really!

A line in one of my favourite woman’s magazine saddened me. Woman’s mags, as u know, are mostly run by women editors, caters to the modern woman and contains explicit feminist content. I loved them, though not always agreed with them.

This particular write up that caught my attention was on women giving birth out of wedlock. Now conceiving illegitimate children are looked down with disgrace in most parts of the world. So I would have been glad had the magazine voiced against singling out the female parent and crucifying her when the male parent goes scot-free. But the magazine’s concerns are that though the child can claim maintenance from the father, the mother has no such provision. Excuse me, why would the mother claim such a provision? ( I know there are similar provisions pertaining to marriage laws, but when you are not bound by marriage, you can claim none).

You can only say one of the two – either that women are on par with men and should be meted out with equal treatment OR that women are indeed the weaker sex and hence need special treatment. You really can’t have the best of both worlds. Though the father is also responsible for the upbringing of the child, why would he provide for the mother who is an adult herself and ‘equal’ to the father? Doesn’t such a demand clearly state that women are weaker? Now do I sound anti-women ? Well.. I can be a feminist of the fiercest kind. I think all women should be. But double standards of pseudo –feminists don’t work with me

Pseudo -feminists are best seen during beauty pageants, when they are at the forefront shouting slogans, protesting against the exploitation of women. Hello feminists! Who is exploiting women here? Have you ever heard of beauty queens who had to bare it all at gun point? When a bunch of women strip to their inner garments to parade on stage for instant recognition, fame, money and glamour, it really isn’t exploitation, it’s celebration time for them! . Probably a celebration you cant be part of. But you won’t let it go so easily, would you? You attach yourself to it in every possible way so that u get a small share of the fame and media space. Now, why do you protest only against the the Ms World’s and Miss India’s and not Mr. World’s and Mr India’s? Ah! Sorry. I forgot that you don’t care about men’s rights or the exploitation of men. But what u do at the end of the day is let men do what they want to do, and protest when women do the same thing, just because they are women. Isn’t this the biggest discrimination against women?

Sometimes I wonder whether I have a distorted feministic view. I see buses with seats reserved exclusively for women (at least in that part of the country where I live). And though I’m glad that I have to fight it out with fewer people for the reserved seats, something inside me detests it.. (But I don’t listen to my inner voice always; I can do it at more convenient occasions. Gee!). Come on! Its not that women don’t have the strength to endure a half an hour’s journey. Why are efforts always being made to convey that we are weaker and hence should be pitied upon ?

Similarly, whenever Iam at the receiving end of a sometimes-genuine-but mostly- pretentious chivalrous act , I am more embarrassed than impressed. (well.. I’m generally touched, yet resist it) I can open doors, carry bags , pull chairs, travel alone and spend money too! Don’t give me special attention. Because I’m neither special nor weak. I just believe I’m equal, though in a rather different way. So doesn’t this make me a feminist - as I said before - of the fiercest and maybe the wierdest kind?. But we cant really have it that easy, fellow beings. Don’t we always say we are tough too? So prove it!

F.R.I.E.N.D.S again!!!

Today is Friendship Day. And what more can Star World offer than a back-to-back 15- episodes-show of their biggest and most loved sitcom F.R.I.E.N.D.S. I could not watch the whole of it for obvious reasons. But hey... its not exclusively for Friendship Day. Star World never tires of airing it and I never tire of watching it. It’s the lives of a bunch of people we have grown to love. And well… they are not the most perfect characters- just a gang of young losers . But it doesn’t really matter. They have become our ‘friends’ too. And we have seen them grow – as individuals, as friends. And the growth becomes more striking when you get to watch the last seasons and then go back to watch the early seasons again. There is an obvious change in the chemistry between the people – the walls are broken down, the patterns are made and the bonding gets stronger.


This really made me look back at my own friendships – how I met them, was unsure of them, then discovered them, bonded with them and like fate would have it, parted ways with them. And I have broken down at the thought of losing them forever. Call me insecure. But I often feared that they would never come back to me, esply if I dint receive a call from them with in the next ten days of parting. And I would hesitate to put in a call myself, again fearing that I would be unwanted in their new lives or they would have already forgotten me. They don’t say ‘Out of sight, Out of mind’ for nothing. But the phrase never held true for me. I long for them more when they are not around anymore. And luckily for me, they all came back. And your friendship becomes stronger than before, because when some one goes and comes back it means you mean something to them, and probably they never discovered a better friend than you.


Ok guys.. I don’t know where this post is heading to. It seems to be as aimless as my own life now. I guess I should end it with a ‘Happy Friendship Day’. Oh! I have more to write about friends and friendships, but mebbe another day, another post! Till then, tata all my friends and all who value friendship!!!


PS: I’m not a big believer of these various days – Friendship Day, Valentines Day, Mother;s Day, Father;s Day, Dog’s Day (erm.. if its already not there, m sure u would hear about it soon). But well… we just need reasons to celebrate. So be it.

Arabi Katha

I watched ArabiKatha only for Srinivasan. And I wasn’t disappointed. It’s been really long since I watched a good Malayalam movie, probably the last one being Notebook. Though the movie is not scripted by Srinivasan, it still carries the flavour of a Srinivasan –scripted movie. There are some light moments layered in between more intense, heartening scenes.


Watching ArabiKatha, one cannot help but remember another Srinivasan-starrer Sandesham. Both Arabhikatha and Sandesham (one of my all time fav mal movies) are satirical takes on the Communist ideologies.


This is also one of the myth-breaking movies. It breaks the mighty illusions people garner about the grandeur and splendour in the Gulf countries. I, for one, have been constantly advised by relatives and acquaintances (Never friends. Thank you guys for having sense). to shift shop to Gulf.


The track ‘Lalsalam’ is beautiful. Inspiring. Oh! and I’m reminded of another communist movie titled Lalsalam - again a favourite.


PS: This is not a movie review. I realize that a movie review details all aspects of moviemaking, right from scripting to sound engineering. So this is just a tribute. Lalsalam… Oops! I meant Ciao!

Namesake – Just a read’s sake

- Jhumpa Lahiri



There are no surprises here. You have heard a similar story before, watched a movie on similar lines, and though you might not have crossed the seven seas to start a new life you can still relate to the story. So the familiarity of the story is the dampener here. But also the winner.

This is not a ‘never been told before’ story. In fact, the story closely resembles a book penned by another Indian author. When Shoba De’s Second Thoughts showcases the journey of a Bengali woman who moves to Mumbai after her marriage, Jhumpa Lahiri’s Namesake tells the story of a woman (Bengali again) who comes to terms with her new life in the US. And the opening pages of the novel narrating the birth of a child has been seen before in Anita Pratap’s Island of Blood . (But the similarity with Island of Blood ends here. You can’t draw parallels with the storyline) Hence the author doesn’t stretch our imagination and take us to an unexplored territory. She merely puts to words emotions that have been living inside us. But it is this very familiarity that makes the novel appealing.

At some point each one of us might have faced the heartbreak of uprooting ourselves from a place where we were deeply rooted ( probably born, raised or spent the best years of life), and lived through the apprehensions about discovering, accepting and eventually loving or learning to love a world that has been alien hitherto. Jhumpa Lahiri captures this emotion beautifully. Ashima, one of the chief characters leads a life of constant regret. Despite having a supportive husband in Ashoke, she experiences an enormous sense of loss. And she lives with that sense of loss until the day she decides to leave US. And then when she finally gets to leave, she grieves for having to leave a land, where she, together with Ashoke build a home, a family, a life , a land where Ashoke breathed his last breath.

The characters in the novel are well etched. They are normal people with no out- of-the ordinary experiences, just trying to make the best out of the life they have. The story begins with the life of Ashoke and Ashima but later their son Gogol becomes the central character. Though reasons have been given for attaching so much significance to Gogol’s name (hence the title Namesake), I found the explanations unconvincing. Probably the author was trying to add a different dimension to a common NRI story.

Gogol’s unfulfilled love life is another aspect of the novel. He goes through a series of relationships and eventually marries a woman he loves. But the initial fondness turns into boredom first, and then resentment. Two people who fell so easily in love with each other, falls out of love as easily. But that’s what I liked about the ending of the book. The author kept Gogol’s love life hanging, reminding the readers that finding love is not the end of life (unlike in most movies/novels), but living with ur love is. Marriage and courting are different ball games altogether. Probably the author wanted to underline the instability of relationships. And with reference to Gogol’s divorce, Ashima mouths something like – “America’s common sense has taught them to separate” (can’t remember the exact line). Through Ashima’s words, the author tells us that if the divorce rates are comparatively lower in India, its not because we love our spouse any better than the Americans , but because we have been conditioned to live with resentment inside. We probably con ourselves into believing that we can still make it work if we try harder. Or worse still, we fear wagging tongues, being alone or like Ashima hinted, lack plain common sense. And we Indians believe in clinging on and not letting go.

The book is a bit of a drag in between, but ends on a beautiful, hopeful note. I read it because it was widely recommended. It is definitely one of those ‘feel good’ reads. Haven’t seen the movie yet. Need to catch it sometime. Just for Mira Nair’s sake.

The Monsoon fables

The monsoon is finally here. And though we are heaving a big sigh of relief that the welting days are finally giving way to chilly nights, I’m not too happy with this change in the weather. I wonder what is inherent about the rains that makes me lonely, depressed, and nostalgic – all at once? I decided to dissect the issue –

1. The number of friends I have are the same since this summer (unless some had died an unfortunate death drowning in the flooded waters. Sorry guys… no wishful thinking this is!). So why lonely only when it rains?

2. I haven’t discovered a particularly disheartening problem to brood over. Why depressed then?

3. Neither do I have any fond memories from the recent past that would turn me suddenly nostalgic.

The climate is pleasantly cool. And I know that it is reason enough to cheer up. A rise in temperature can upset some. Ahem! Like it did to my sis the other day. On a hot summer day she suddenly broke into tears and started crying profusely. When asked about the reason, she blamed it on the soaring heat which was playing spoiler. But we guessed that the real reason would be having to leave a college she spent 4 years studying, bonding, fighting, and living. Heh heh.. Sorry Gee! But I couldn’t resist it.


The first memory that rains bring to me is the school reopening. It is a mixed feeling, a bundle of emotions - the excitement of growing up and moving into a higher grade, the joy in meeting friends who were away visiting grandparents, uncles , aunts and hundreds of relatives an Indian child is entitled to have, the pride in exhibiting all the new things bought for the new academic year, the reluctance to leave the cozy comforts of home – all rolled into one. It’s a beautiful sight to see the colorful umbrellas and bright raincoats. And I would be wrapping my arms around my new bag fearing that it would get wet, successfully avoiding the smaller puddles, only to fall into the biggest one!!! The effort of balancing the umbrella against the wind, getting dirty with the speeding cars splashing muddy water, the fear of writings being ink-stained ,all put together would tire me out. And I wouldn’t want to step out in the rain again.



Then I grew up, went to college, carried fewer books and stopped fretting over them, learnt to balance the umbrella and even to accommodate more people under one, mastered the art of avoiding puddles, and suddenly rains became such good fun. I found a new thrill in getting drenched. So one rainy evening, ignoring my parent’s concerns, I set out alone. I boarded a bus, got down at the stop and started walking towards my destination. Suddenly I was caught in a torrential rain. I got excited thinking about the sympathies I was gonna get once I was home. But then I had learnt to enjoy only the rains and not the accompanying lightning and thunder.


I heard the deafening voice of the loud thunder and saw the lightning streak the sky. My heart started pounding faster. I was assured that my death was nearer than I thought. (More so, because this incident took place just a few days after a lightning tragedy that killed many people ). But somehow the idea of getting killed when struck by a lightning didnt appeal to me. It was too silly for words. So brushing the thought aside, I started walking as fast as my legs would carry me. I remembered that being under a tree during lightning can only increase the risk of getting struck by one and noticed, ( surprisingly for the first time after walking that road for almost three years) to my dismay, that the road I had to walk on was dotted on both sides with huge sprawling trees. All I could do was to avoid the sides and move to the centre of the road. But when debating over which was a better option – being struck by a lightning or being run over by a car- I knew that the latter was more probable on Indian roads.


Meanwhile, the thunder grew louder and the lightning closer and I saw (erm.. probably imagined) it just above my head, within my hand’s reach. I saw death really close that day. I tried to remember all those precautionary measures I had learnt when I was a kid. And something inside me said – METALS! I had to get rid of all the metals. I frantically took out my chain and pulled out my ear studs, one of which I lost in the frenzy. I almost abandoned my umbrella with a metal top. I ran for my dear life. And from that day onwards rain has almost managed to top my endless list of fears.


Years passed… Rains took a new meaning. And now when the rain lashes outside, I sit indoors watching a mushy movie, attempting to read a soppy book, but all the while feeling lonely, depressed and nostalgic. Guess falling into puddles was better. Sigh!

Starting Afresh!

This is the nth time m dirtying my hands with blogging. Sadly, my blogs have never taken off after the first post. I abandon it ruthlessly, never to look back at it again. And everytime 'm filled with a new urge to write, I create a new blog. The reasons for this being pathetic excuses ranging from ''unable to recall the login name'' to "hate to see a wide time gap". But now I'm starting afresh, with a new determination to pursue. (Clearly, a lil late in life) Well.... being a devoted blogger is nothing like being a devoted warrior. I realize that. But for sloth machines like me, its nothing less!!

That said, I always face a writer's block. Blogging, like any other activity, requires commitment. If ye manage to get regular readers, they expect you to write something for them consistently, something to laugh about, smthg to chew on, smth to ponder over. And then they move on to the next blog, looking for the same something. So this commitment-phobia, coupled with my slothness more often that not paralyses me.

I often wonder what is it that I write about. I have read innumerable blogs in the past and found them to be unabashedly open, refreshingly different. And that is simply cuz each person is refreshingly different . And that for me is the biggest challenge - to let the mask down and bare the soul and be just that - unabashedly open. And I fear being overwhelmed by a drive to write, scribble something and later be ashamed of wot I have written. But a few inspirational reads here and there did the deal. I vowed to guard my space less fiercely and be less possessive about my thoughts. So here are my takes .... on wot ever that matters to me, and only me... I will try and be point blank here! But there are no guarantees wotsoever!!!