Just Another Day !

What are the topics that one can possibly write about? To begin with you can perhaps talk about how one fine day you sat down to with your laptop wondering what to do next and it dawned upon you that probably you could put your gift of gab to some good use…just frame relatively coherent sentences, preferably in sequitor to the previous sentence. For a beginner, that you can frame a coherent sentence itself is a good start. What rubbish am I writing? As of now, this second, I'm thinking of the people who might accidentally chance upon reading this. What would this piece of literary gibberish come across as? On a higher level how does it matter? Should it matter at all? Who is anybody to judge? We take it upon ourselves to pass a judgment on things we see, people we meet, people we hear about from people who've met them (classic example of unintentionally baffling the reader and sounding intelligent).

Let me try just jotting down things that come to my mind as and when they do. Right now I can hear my three year old nephew snore. I wonder why am I not asleep. I just got done with a movie, 'The Man'. It was funny in a Billy Crystal meets Jim Carrey sort of manner, the only difference being it wasn't them.

Another thought that seems to have hijacked my mind is about Him/ Her, with due respect. The previous statement is quite an irony for I seem to be feigning respect out of fear to a something I am not sure exists. They say, people like me are called agnostics. I say please don't adjectivise (I just coined that word. I am entitled to the freedom of expression and the likes, remember?!, ) me and my kind. What is with people and their fixation of taking it up as their moral, social responsibility to pass their verdict on even a speck of dust and then come up with some god forsaken term to make it look like an incurable, contagious disease?

I'm quite infamous for the tangents I take.

So this particular remark on me finding somebody with my perspective has left me sufficiently ruffled, so much so that I haven't thought much about anything else beyond that since I read it. Well, it came as a mail from a perfect stranger. I'm assuming the stranger was perfect for I seem to not like the non-responding types and this one not only did respond but also managed to irk me. Now I'm fully aware of my abilities of vexing people beyond repair and there is more possibility than one that I might have displeased this person. What I cannot fathom is my inability to take it like a man. That also might be because I am not one. Well, technically speaking, I am not. Issue with me is I have the rare ability of admitting that I am wrong when I am wrong. Now now, that’s not the issue. The problem arises when the stage is empty and I’m left alone. I wonder if there was any reason for me to be sorry for what I said / did, for I’m sure I must have done it for a reason. We’ll leave it for some other day, the melodramatic pondering that is.