PENGUINS:

To be or not to be.

 

Someone I know happened to get placed at some company where all new employees get a new, shiny self-help book on orientation day. It was a cute book. With glossy pages, large font, and illustrations. (Now, I'm sure the company didn't really think their new employees were idiots with extremely inferior IQ's.. I guess they didn't believe much in self-help books anyway and so got the cutest book they could find.)

So anyway, I went through the book. Or atleast I looked through all the pictures and read the thought bubbles. It was about a penguin called Fred whose ice-berg was melting. Now Fred's on the verge of leaving his home, starting off on his own, trying to make it in the big bad world. (So much for subtle metaphors.) And the penguins in the pictures are all worried about finding fish and saving their ice-berg and all that. Which was when I began thinking that maybe, just MAYBE, I'd like to be a penguin. Cos they have quite a comfy life..worry about fish, find a new mate every year, have penguin babies (minus the gestation, mind you) and worry about fish again. Plus they can make angels in the snow whenever they want. (Thank you, Zeenie, for pointing that one out.)

But then when Fred comes back home after his, uh, adventure career ice-berg-unmelting-quest whatever, he sees his wife. Poignant moment and all, but all poor Fred (being a penguin) can do is flap his fins uselessly. Which was when I realized that penguins cant even hug. And all the cartoons that show penguins lying around happily in an icy utopia are all LIES. Cos I thought about it, and try as I might, I just CANT imagine penguins lying down- they'd probably keep rolling around by mistake. (Heheheheh). Which also means that they must sleep standing up.

So then I thought to myself that its a good thing I'm not a penguin. Maybe it'd be okay to be a monkey..they got proper arms and everything. But nah, monkeys are damn ugly. So i guess I'm happy being human afterall..

:)

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SOCKS.

Lately I've been noticing that i sorta like socks.

Note: in the improbable and highly unlikely event that someone happens to read this rant, i would like to say this-please keep reading. This is not as random as it seems.

So anyway, I've noticed that i sorta like socks. I say this because in the past year, I've stopped wearing my sneakers without socks (and no, my feet do not stink,so that is not the reason). Plus, I've also begun wearing socks with my floaters. (not because i like to show off the stripes).

I've also noticed that while I tend to dress like a dying blade of grass- in black, green, and brown; I like my socks looking all colourful and stripey.

I guess i like striped socks.

A lot.

I've been contemplating on my conflicting preferences (i.e. dead clother and happy socks) and I've come up with WHY my feet are clothed so differently from the rest of me.

  1. When i was a kid, my mom and dad liked to make me wear bright yellow frilly frocks. I grew up. Grew away from those revolting jaundiced shades. Chose not to pick any bright shiny shades. My feet though, remain faithful to my parents.
  2. I'm regressing. The socks are just a reflection of bigger, traumatic things.
  3. I'm actually a very happy person. All the dark clothes and blah is just me buckling under peer pressure.

I'm also terrily bored.

Fuck.

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Edge

on the verge of..uh.
Growing up.

 

Yesterday i did what i do every day of my life (unless

I'm in college). Woke up. Did nothing. Played guitar. Read. Contemplated on my worthlessness. Got depressed. Contemplated on my worthlessness. Got depressed. Contemplated on my worthlessness.. (note the pattern)

And now, strangely, I have a job. Even more unbelievable, its the first place I walked into. Which goes to show that all you need to make a career is to know people who know people. And so I, with all my negativity, my tendency to undermine myself, my fear of new people and fear of being judged, my deep distrust of the world; and needless to say,my blank c.v.; got employed in under 15 minutes.

Please Note: I'm not maladjusted. I'm a nice person who sucks in most social situations. Actually, I'd even say I'm pleasant.

Anyway, I'm not complaining. No, really.. The whiny tone is the product of habit and a high-pitched voice.

So tomorrow, i wont be contemplating on my worthlessness and getting depressed; or contemplating on my worthlessness and getting depressed. I'll be walking into a supercool fancy office building full of wacky red walls and pierced people. Maybe I'll have fun..

I'm excited. No matter how suspicious i sound. i SWEAR.

 

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