Oh, predictable me...

To be sung in the irritating tune of 'Oh,wonderful love'. Emphasis on the OHHH, and predictable me, as an afterthought.

And why predictable me?

A. I am writing for the sake of writing.

B. I was going to write about the Cricket world cup a.k.a crimefile.

C. I was thinking of calling it 'crimefile'.

D. All my blogs seem to be lists of some sort these days.

So one more-

Recently thought of and abandoned blog topics.

1. Post exam. Doesn't even interest me, let alone anyone else.

2. Cricket. In denial.

3. Weather in Pittsburgh.Oh Yeah Right, you would have read that one through.

4. Holi and how I've never had a colour fight. The word processor is irritating me by correcting my spelling of colour and I want to spell it with a 'u', or not at all. So, not at all.

5. First time I actually heard an owl hoot. Drives me nuts. But thats all it does.

What I am actually gonna write about is Mungaru Male. So, more predictable me. Its a recently released Kannada movie which is supposedly great. I havent seen it. My mom, dad, sis and aunt did, though. Against their better judgement, although I am still foggy as to why, they went to a conveniently located but awful theater. Visuals of the movie are supposed to be amazing. So say sis and dad. But mom doesn't know. Because she didn't see any. Because she caught some kind of a bug in the theater and was itching all over. But still didn't flee the place. Strange I say.

The wonders of a mediocre movie theater are indescribable ( then why describe? but ah! I will). I have had the misfortune (or good fortune) of visiting many of them. The horrors range from rodents under the seat to Rangeela-style heroes with unpleasant parts of their anatomy stationed in the wrong places. All contributing to the movie watching experience,making up for the disaster on the screen .

Even when the theater and movie are good, humour can arise from unexpected quarters. Like when I was watching Ice Age 2. Next to me were these angelic looking twin boys, about five years old, on a day out with dad. There was some mention of hind parts in the movie and one of the twins , in his crystal clear voice chimed out "Daddy, butt andre?"(Daddy, what does butt mean?). The movie was funny enough, but this was just too much. Everyone around was splitting their seams, and the spluttering dad did not help.

I miss crowded movie theaters. Cheering, whistling, catcalling and treating the movie like its being staged for you exclusively. All unknown to the American population. I have heard rumors of New Yorkers begging for a song in Dhoom 2 to be played again, so they could watch their 'Ash-wurrya' dance, but thats the wildest one I've heard. Can the taporis from Bangalore please go on a US tour?

The Secret of the Rhyme

How does poetry happen? I have written my share of juvenile poems, but they all started out the same way. Find what you want to write about, find words which are relevant, find words that rhyme with them and try to make a sentence. But is that how real poets do it? Or is it like an inspiration? Rhymes and metres just pop into one's head..Is that it?

If I set out to write a silly poem, I can do it as well as the next person, I think.

A girl was so sick of books
That she started writing stuff
She knows she spews nonsense
But to stop the flow is tough.

But the point is, no one ever sets out to write silly poems. Everyone wants to be one of those poets whose poems have one or two words a line, with deep deep meaning which is hard for mere mortals to fathom. About deep dark feelings or mysteries. Ok, lets try that now.

Flowing water
running away
with my
dreams
of untold
happiness.
if dreams
are gone
what remains?
the hope
of a new dream..
to be
washed away
by another stream?

Now, how was that? Reading it again, I am unpleasantly reminded of General Science classes of Soil Erosion. Plus, its not unfathomable. Maybe my thoughts aren't deep enough. Thats sad. I am too shallow to be a poet. And too understandable to be a good one.

After all the nonsensical experiments, my question remains unanswered. What makes feelings come out in rhyme and metre? Ye poets of great repute, I await enlightenment.

Sooner or later...

I was watching Everybody loves Raymond the other day . It was the episode where Ray is asking himself what he wants out of life. I didn't watch to the end of the show but it got me thinking. What do I want? I decided there is no major goal right now. No earthshaking one, that is. But there are lots of things I want to do someday. So for now my goal is, to get to that 'someday'.

1. Bungee jump- Just looked it up in Wikipedia and I see that it can cause lots of trauma. Well, rather this way than any other!

2. Visit Harappa and Mohenjodaro- I want to see that plumbing everyone talks about !!

3. Visit the Dead sea and check out if I can really float on it because of all the salt..or was it the Red sea? No, I think its the dead one.

4. Look at snowflakes under the microscope and see if they are all really different. This is going to be a tough one!

5. Visit London and check out all those places I've read about a zillion times-Trafalgar square, Piccadilly circus, ride the 'tube'.

6. Study Archeology. Seriously.

7. I once got reprimanded in a court of Law for crossing my legs!!! For God's sake! I really really
want to go back, do it again and if someone says something ( I really hope they do), I want to make a huge hue and cry. Just for kicks!

I'll leave it at seven for now. Hope they come true. If they do, it will make the other nonsense worthwhile. For sometime. And then, there will be more sevens.