I wished I was blind so I couldn't see them together. But wishes don't come true in the first place.

It isn't just Cinderella...

On a random count I found, on an average I have about 10 of them. I also pick up a season's favourite, and get addicted to it. I love them all.

But I recently found that this love makes my world go round. 

There are tough days, and there are troublesome days. And I have a well thought out strategy for all the horrid looking days. 3 points. If there were less, it would not be so well thought out, if more, then wouldn't be MECE. So 3 it is.

One, close the eyes. Sometimes, it feels like I can't quite keep my eyes open. As if, everything becomes more pronounced if my eyes were open. Like darts- aimed at me. I've spent days trying to keep away troublesome thoughts with eyelids shut. I see Orange. Closed eyes give me Orange, when I need to keep the blue away.

Level 2, on above average horrid days, there's extreme action that helps. Change of hair. The three(!) Cs- Cut, colour, condition. Everything works.

Level 3, on extremely horrid days. Get out there. Get another.

And there it is. And then on good days it works. And on bad days, I remind myself while also looking at others that, it'll work. Like it always has, like it always does, like it so should.

Today, it doesn't matter if they're not looked out for. Cos, I am not leaving them behind. 

I love my shoes.

An update for Jenny of fifth floor

When I write about love, Iwill write here. When Iwrite about all other assorted emotions, I will write here. I hope that's OK.

My personal blog stalker...

People said I was too cryptic, hence I thought of this wonderful thing to share. I am not sure, whether it fits into the category of love, but it's surely something like i(the dude)-lost-my-mind-and-I (the dude)-am-hallucinating-love. 

So, I got (yet another) mail from my blog stalker. The guy first "noticed" my blog in 2005. He is disillusioned* to think that I actually write for him. I do not know the guy, and do not feel the need to know him too. 

Here's an entertaining (sorry, but!) mail from him. I just hope for his own sake, he goes to a doctor. I don't even want to write back and be bad to him. I don't even know who he is. I know he is sick (for real, mentally) though.

Dear Upasna,

What you call "perennial torture**" isn't exactly clear to me. But this phrase indicates that something isn't going the way you would've liked. 

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Upasna, at some point in future I would like to meet you. I really want to. It's not a new feeling. It's just that it seems more feasible now.

I'm hesitant to give this relationship a name.That would stereotype.

I'm at peace after whatever I write to you. If I had enough money right now I would've bought 2 nearby apartments , one for both of us. Then I would indulge both of us in long chats. I would take you to the nearby coffee shop . Weekend movies would be indespensible. :D

I'm on the move with you.
Please don't call this "perennial torture" !!

*He reallly believes that I write for/ about him

** A post I wrote on my blog

And so it is...*

I am not a firm believer in the first sight. Though these days beliefs change by dime a dozen, and I don't quite know when, I may loose my cynicism amongst all other things. I do think however that there are signs ( like the dress tears up suddenly and jazz like that). It's weird sometimes to think that the whole universe seems to be scheming against the perfect good-on-paper stuff. Often times, the shoe is reluctant to be left behind. So, that's that.

* the shorter story, no love no glory, no hero in her sky