Monday, November 10, 2014

What was I thinking?

Last night, I came across things I'd written years ago. I made it only halfway through one and barely skimmed through the other, before having to stop - I was cringing and asking myself, "WHAT WAS I THINKING?".

One of the things I found was a story about a rainbow. It's not all that bad. I know and remember what I'd written in it, so it wasn't much of a shocker. The other was a poem. Called 'The City'. Some 66 lines of drivel. On and on, on and on, in that horrible strain. I should have been content with that. But was I? No. I needed the icing on the cake. In the form of an explanation. "The topic may refer to Heaven, "The City" (of Angels/ of God). But I assumed that it was a description of any city in our world, not Heaven". Sheesh!

It only gets worse, and I wisely refrained from reading the next "poem", though I couldn't help glancing at it. (And shuddering)


I was just thinking about how I pose for pictures - I almost always end up standing / sitting in really awkward poses.

We recently came across some old childhood photos. And, there was a common theme among my photos - in most of them, I was sitting with my legs spread :) Very ladylike from that young age, I know...

Speaking of legs, Senorita B and I were booking our tickets, and she asked me which bus I preferred. I told her I was OK with whatever she chose, as long as I had enough space to spread my legs. I meant to say, "space enough to stretch my legs". I swear. (Senorita B. still asks me if I want to spread my legs. :| )

Anyway, back to the photos... and Senorita B.... That precious girl took a picture of me at Hampi. What was I doing? Doing my awkward oh-see-I'm-standing-is-this-not-posing-enough pose. What was I doing in the photo? Not sure. I looked like a Bollywood hero in an item number - hands on the hips - one in front, one behind, imaginary handkerchief between legs... Start sequence - kerchief forward, kerchief backward, forward, backward...

The one other pose which seems consistent is the legs-apart-belly-out one. My brother says I look like a poster-girl... for any of the 'fight against hunger' groups.

And guess what? There was a picture of me. Red lips. Deep red. My hair in a 'fountain kudumi'. And I was glaring at the camera. (I must have been 7 then, but still...)

My friends tell me I should learn to pose. I am very reluctant about having my photo taken, so I guess the day is still far off.

(Mr. V tells me I could then possible become a "hot aunty". Is that incentive enough?!)


Don't even let me start on my old diaries/journals. "Today, he spoke to me. He asked me if there was any homework in English.!!!". "He smiled in my direction". "She did not talk to me, but had lunch with that girl. I should probably stop talking to her". And so on. The original schoolgirl and puppy love soppy stuff. Teenage angst, you know ;)


Maybe I should stop now, while damage control is still possible.

Adios :)

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