11 11 11 11 11

It can't get lamer than this. Just wanted to to leave my mark on 11.11.11.11. How many ever elevens there are supposed to be.

Dreaming about me?

What is it with dreams? They can be so weird sometimes. The mind or whatever it is makes you see things you don't even think about or have just stopped thinking about. As soon as you shut your eyes and let go, it pulls out a smart one from the repository of memories it holds.

So when someone says the usual, 'make your dreams come true' with lofted idealism, I take a step back and wonder, do I really want all those dreams to come true? Well if they become a reality then they won't be dreams anymore.

Nightmares on the other hand are real dreams. They are closer to your day to day life, practical and more achievable. I say this because one of my nightmares came true recently.

I was stung by a honeybee, not once but twice. Of course there were two different honeybees but they both chose me to end their life (yes, they die after they sting someone). Now when I look at it, it's two nightmares which came true. One of course was mine and the other was that of the honeybees.

You don't have to work hard to make your nightmares come true. They just come true without you even trying to make them happen. Trust me, I did nothing to attract those bees and the bees did nothing to attract me. Still we made our nightmares come true.

It's worse for those bees. They did not even live to tell the tale. The whole world will only know my version and what I think is their version of the story.

While dwelling on this dream, nightmare paradox I had a scary thought. It's scarier for those who are those who are all about making their dreams come true. What if you make your dream come true and realise that you are actually living your worst nightmare? It happens. Think about it.

Ageless

Ten years ago, we were the same.

We had no clue about the worldly game.

We giggled at the wrong time,

and played the same tricks again.

The numbers grew every year in those ten.

With them we learnt a few things.

But when we met, we did the same things.

Giggled at the wrong time,

and played the same tricks all over again.

Oh! Such a Big Mistake!

Correction as a profession is a bad deal. Imagine always having to correct people. No one likes being corrected. In our minds we are always right. Everything we do is correct.

So when someone sets out to correct all these correct people they are bound to question the correctness of the person correcting them. Which also means that the person correcting them cannot be incorrect, because if the corrector is incorrect then her/his corrections will not always be considered correct.

If you are bored of this blog post already, then try counting the the number of 'corrects' in the last two paragraphs. You don't have to tell me the answer, keep it in your head.

It is inhuman not to mistakes. Perfection is not a human trait. It is best left to vampires. Even God or whoever it is that makes things function is not perfect. If they were, they would not have let evolution progress beyond apes. Guess that entity had a laboratory mis-adventure and there came human beings. Now imagine if that entity had done everything correctly. Humans would never have happened.

Mistakes are nice. Some can be terrible but as long as you can look back at them and laugh, they are tolerable. There are some which might make you cringe in embarrassment and some which you hope know one knows about.

Mistakes make for interesting story. Things become exciting when you goof-up, when you go outside the circuit and do something wrong. You do something least expected. You make a mistake. At that point it kills you but then later you have a something to remember. Mistakes can actually make you famous!

What else, let's see... Are mistakes unique? Well if we classify them, then there are some which are stereotypical, like dating the wrong girl/guy, ordering bad food, buying something wrong, stepping on a banana peal, crashing a car. Most of these are made over and over again. Making them a habit might not be a good idea, but one should commit at least all of these once.

Then there are the unique ones, which only you can make. Perhaps no one wants the unique ones to be shared. If they come out in the open, they won't be unique anymore.

Some mistakes however can kill you. Those also make for interesting stories, but the person who made them can never narrate that story. It's always another person's version and it's not always true.

As I write this, I am trying to make a mental note of all the mistakes am yet to make. The list is quite long and am scared my brain might not be able to hold on to it for too long. The cops will have me on their wanted list soon. I am all set to make a lot of mistakes. You'll know. I will be famous soon.

LET THEM FLOW

Sometimes you should just let them flow.
It takes a while to let it go.
Don't hold them in your eyes.
Let the face also feel them pass by.

They don't make you weak always.
You don't have to hide your face,
or sit by yourself in a dark place.
They are a reminder,
you can still feel pain.

Once they are gone,
they won't come back.
With them they will take,
all the hurt and dismay.
And you will be ready to,
feel more of it all over again.

POSTER BOY

There’s a twinkle in the eye,
lost in a fantastic day dream.
The lips, are trying hard,
not to reveal the smile.

A new story comes into the head,
every time she walks back from the bakery.
Hoping sometimes, praying sometimes,
that the poster in the closet comes to life.

He says the most beautiful lines,
they say someone else wrote it.
He does everything right,
they say it’s not him, he poses.

She does not believe a word they say,
frowns and does not talk again.
Walks back to her dreaming chair,
hoping to see the poster become real again.

REVIVED FROM THE TRASH CAN

I was going through the list of my unpublished posts and found this really short one. Guess I wrote it when I was fed up with my previous job. Here it goes:

To quit or not to quit is the question. I know Shakespeare just turned 360 degrees in his grave. But then its time we contemporise him a little, or rather remix him.

Coming back to the question.

Why is it so difficult to just leave it?

To stop and then start again.

To act like we are playing a game.

Pause and then choose to restart.

A new day, a new life and a new game.