not all dogs go to india

there's this strange mix in india, extremely confusing for the average foreigner like me, of spiritual vs. materialistic. i always thought, from my eclectic pre-experience of indian culture, that it is a very spiritual one. however, factoring in the importance social status has here (let wikipedia tell you more), things might appear as being more materialistic. whereas i am still a firm believer that they're not.

but take dogs. the only dogs i see on the streets, or better yet the only dogs on a leash that i see on the streets or in people's houses, are toilet paper dog and vodafone india dog. both famous tv dogs, both incredibly cute (like most dogs are).

and you'd think they'd like to be seen walking one of those on the streets of their colony, but i always, always, alwaaaays see them accompanied by what seems to be house helpers. so why get them? why? why? why????

but then i thought, maybe cuteness or the desire to be associated with it(which is nothing close to being a spiritual value) doesnt even have to do with why they're so popular. these dogs are popular because they are popular. its not about their looks, it's about what they represent because of media, and it's about what you represent because of what they represent. plus, they're quite expensive, which, in the quick viewfinder, puts you even higher up on the social scale.

truth is, i'm just jealous cause i really want to have a dog. any dog. preferably a fox terrier that i would not compare to the other one i had, a fox terrier like montmorency, the one in "three men in a boat (not to mention the dog)" by jerome k. jerome.

is this only a desperate cry for hound?

the trivial sublime

i dont know how to write a personal truth as big as this without the fear of making it sound trivial.



there is nothing better in the world than being able to be 100% yourself in the company of someone. there is, actually: being 100% comfortable with being 100% yourself in the company of someone. dont think i could ask for more. maybe hot water.

runner's high

i grew up being taught that you, your doings and creations, should fit within some known (and, most importantly, widely accepted) standards. norms. limits. everything must have a name, a rational explanation, a style, a color, a famous relative, an origin or an end. someone once asked the world "what's in a name?", but understanding the point of the answer required knowledge of botanic.

i grew up being taught all that because of a strange, rigid system, and yet i grew up learning that whatever you feel and think is right is the best thing to do (and i am mostly referring to means of expressing yourself).

i wish i could thank all those people who made me learn.
and i wish i'll dance the way i feel like dancing more, looking silly, but without fears of looking silly.



(i just had this crazy thought that i should start bedroom dancing, a dance dance competition where people dance the way they would dance in their bedroom, when no one would be watching. winners would be determined by measuring the endorphin release at the end of the dance. the whole point would be breaking free, of course.)

left and out

i remember last time i had this feeling i was in a summer camp with my aunt. she was a teacher. i was the most unpopular kid. no it's not true. some boy crapped his pants on the bus once and another girl was sucking her finger. wait, that girl was me. but i was doing it only before going to bed, in secret. that couldnt be the reason but it leaves the boy as the most unpopular kid, which still puts me in a not so bad position, not the worst, at least. that's when i last had this feeling. i dont like this feeling.

it's not a nice feeling. but it's not the worst.

spread your bread

not even in my world of daily maggi cup noodles lunches would i ever think of the alternative of making spread sandwiches.

i guess i'm just not the type of person who makes and/or eats spread sandwiches. plus, i dont know if the name is coined, but it's damn stupid.

good day!

i'm telling you, right now, right now, stop waiting around for other people and do what you want to do.

(some people might talk to themselves, i prefer writing)

modern tragedy

as my first attempt to be publicly artistic was blown to smithereens after my lafraise contest submissions were not accepted, i am debating a quiet retirement from the t-shirt design business vs. some naughty perseverance and learning how to draw. results out within a week.

here they are, my oddly shaped creations, hanging lively on my blog, not even aware of what happened. let them stay happy. for i will be sad.

(1,2 and 3 were made for this contest that had as topic "the ark - endangered species" )


When the tide was high the giraphants went playing hide and seek. Bad timing, cause although very tall, giraphants are bad at playing hide and seek outside the ark. Too bad, they would have made great over-sized pets.

The only giraphant who didn't go play hide and seek was a bit stark. He is famous for being an avid reader and having created his own arc, not as famous as Noah's, though.

Stay fit. When you're 600 years old someone may ask you to do something really big.

easy peasy

paragliding this weekend, in manali, gave me a grand new perspective over things. i needed one badly, too. just like robin williams says, climbing his desk in dead poets society, he's doing it to constantly remind himself you have to look at things in different ways.

it wasnt so much the actual perspective, it was a more inward process. ok, basically, i was scared out of my wits before doing it. i wanted to scream "i doooont want to do it" several times. i mean it. i think i even did a few times. i wanted to plead for my life and for sure, if tears came out, we would have gone back or at least my descent would have happened by the jeep that took us up in the first place and not hanging from a piece of cloth with an indian guy on my back.

even though i didnt want to do it more than i wanted to do it, i did it. i felt like if i face this fear i face every fear i have and some sort of magic mechanism would trigger. and it did. i feel braver, stronger, more independent... all these things that india took away a little bit in my first month here. i call it magic because i think its an amazing thing, you can give it some name from psychology and be boring.

i'll be that too, actually, and continue to rant about my big realization. ok? ok. ok. ok thank you. ok. ooookkkkk, thank you. i was thinking (but not over-thinking) about how everything around can be very complex, complicated, impossible for us to do or, on the other hand, just plain worth trying to do, even if you might fail. its all about how you look at it. from now on, officially, i go with the latter one. i realized i was telling myself and the world "live in the moment, do what feels right, stop worrying about everything, go with the flow" and while the world might have been listening, i know for sure i wasnt, what i was doing was complicating things, over-analyzing and, in the end, filling up my head with a truckload of un-useful information (improperly called information, more accurately described as speculation).

so here's to simple things, like love. or genetics. or life. :>

that's amore?!

how the hell is the moon hitting the sky (even like a bit pizza pie) love?

why i need a new wallet

i found out why they call it f bar. the whole fashion tv thing is just a good cover up. they call it f bar because you get effed.

and you also get midget like people with "so called girlfriends" offering to buy you drinks, and that's probably in the expectation of a different kind of effing, later, once the guys at the bar are done effing your wallet and the "so called girlfriend" found a taller guy to hang out with.

so to avoid choosing if you should undergo effing no. 1 (as presented in the first paragraph) or effing no. 2 (as presented in the second paragraph) you might as well avoid going there completely, because this kind of choosing would have moral implications that you might not be ready for.

plus, nirvana house remixes of smells like teen spirit require quite a few drinks to accept, so the effing of your wallet will be an actual rape.

last, and probably least, i would like to thank f bar for the opportunity to glance inside their hubbub club and amuse myself for a while, until my wallet got raped.

p.s. also, i am starting a petition for changing the name from f bar to bar f, as it gives a personal touch to the cold, huge place they have over there. it just fits so much better! bar f! bar f! bar f! ;)