Parties and plans and things.

Dear Zonk,

Today’s a day for making things happen. Or at least for setting wheels in motion. I’m in a state of flux. Something’s gotta give. And when it does, I want to be ready to move with the impact. The Universe works in mysterious ways.

In other news, my office Christmas party last night was fucking awesome. It was also curiously instructional. Here’s a list of things I learned from trying to organize this event:

  1. I’m not built for organizing events. I’m not built for organizing anything. I’m really not very organized at all.
  2. I’m not very good at parties. I mean, if you throw a party, I can attend. I can drink without getting drunk and be fun for a short while and so on. But if I have to throw you a party, it better be a sit-down-and-drink sort of scene. I mean, there’s free food and free alcohol and free music. That’s about as much as I can do. I shouldn’t have to tell you to form circles or  pull chits out of a hat or anything, because I don’t know about that stuff and also because you’re not 6 years old anymore. You’re old enough to decide what you want to do at a fucking party. I shouldn’t have to give you a schedule for it or anything.
  3. I should be the head of the decorating committee. It’s fun and it’s non-crucial.
  4. I can play ukulele after 3 drinks. This is quite an amazing discovery. I think my extra 2 kilos have really improved my capacity massively.
  5. Non drinkers must be terribly brave. Can you imagine standing in a room full of half strangers for 3 hours without a glass in your hand? *shudders*
  6. My office is awesome. It really, really is.

And now, nap time.

Love always,
K.

 

 

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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