<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928</id><updated>2024-09-10T11:19:14.931+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Rambling along life.....</title><subtitle type='html'>My musings. The world as I see it. Quite random. But basically a vent for all the 1229464 things that crowd my little head.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default?redirect=false'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>93</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-8030000489953988294</id><published>2013-06-30T20:08:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2013-07-03T20:08:38.847+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Lists and more lists</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I am turning 25 in almost 4 months. And I am scared.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;There&#39;s a deluge of lists that seems to be popping out of nowhere. 19 things to do before turning 25, 22 things that makes your college life amazing, 30 things to not to in your 20&#39;s. It goes on and on! Lists that possibly smart but unknown people have compiled about education and career, friendships and people, love and relationships, drinking habits and pooping oddities. And with every list I&#39;m overwhelmed by the prospect of everything that I should have done or should be doing. Re-evaluating choices made and the paths yet to be traversed. Maybe I didn&#39;t drink enough or meet enough people. Was I crazy enough or adventurous enough? I should travel more and read more!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Yes, I am scared. I want the bed to swallow me and hide me in it&#39;s warm layers sheltered by darkness. I hope the knot in my stomach disappears as I try counting again wondering if I ever got past 10. There are 25 tabs open in my browser and my head reels at the amount of information but I can&#39;t close any. I am venturing into&amp;nbsp;uncharted&amp;nbsp;waters and now I can steer myself in any direction I want.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Having spent 24 years of my life jumping through academic hoops set by other people I often find myself questioning my passions. What do I really believe in and where do I want to go? Is it really something I want or something fed to me that I forgot to digest? This might just be the crisis that they talked about! So I decided to come up with my own list.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;b&gt;1. Make your own list.&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Today, make your own lists. Make a list of things and people that inspire you, things that make you happy and everything you&#39;re grateful for. Make a list of ways in which you can help people and values that resonate with you. A bucket list of feats that you aspire to achieve unbound by any limitations, letting your imagination soar. Make a list of what drives you to tumble out of bed and look forward to a bright day. What are things you admire about yourself and what would you change? There will always be people who want to share their advice and they mean well. Keep yourself open to them as you go on to list what matters to you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Today, I created my own lists. I made lists for myself and these will be my compass in this unknown territory. There are wise people in the world who know a lot more than me but they cannot create my lists. They can only inspire me to go just one more step further and discover the world.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I would love to hear about your lists so go ahead and drop a note.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/8030000489953988294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/8030000489953988294?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/8030000489953988294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/8030000489953988294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2013/07/lists-and-more-lists.html' title='Lists and more lists'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-6404758424867640656</id><published>2012-04-07T18:41:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2012-04-07T18:48:11.261+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Because you deserve to know</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I loved that story. It had bears and friends and getting into trouble with a house full of popcorn!! (Really how could you not be amused by a house full of popcorn?) But I couldn&#39;t read it yet. So she read it to me, over and over again, day after day till I learnt to read. I don&#39;t know if she ever got bored of it but I certainly didn&#39;t and she just never showed it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I didn&#39;t really have too many kids my age around me to play with, at least none I wasn&#39;t bullied by. So she played every inane game with me and read every story to me and talked to me and taught me how to see the world and learnt along with me. We were a team when He was too busy.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;When the nights seemed too dark and there were demons imagined and unimagined, I knew she was there to fight them. When the things got rough I was right by her side, scared, little, whispering, assuring and seeking assurance. I didn&#39;t understand much but as I whispered &quot;mumma?? mummaa?&quot; I wanted her to know I was there and know if everything in my world was ok.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;(Then the Little One came and we all love her to bits too. Little One, if you ever read this, you should know you became our baby just as I was their&#39;s. :) )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Through school and life, from a thousand miles away, through the good and the bad, she has always been my best friend and nothing will change that. When the things get rough we will always be next to each other. Just as we were 20 years back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Mumma, I love you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/6404758424867640656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/6404758424867640656?isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6404758424867640656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6404758424867640656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2012/04/because-you-deserve-to-know.html' title='Because you deserve to know'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-5144996198613522726</id><published>2012-03-25T03:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2012-03-25T03:39:00.353+08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I was 12 years old and she was in my class. She was barely scraping through from year to year, struggling with every subject. I don&#39;t think she had any friends. She probably hated coming to school and we didn&#39;t help. I remember girls seeing lice in her hair sometimes and snickering behind her back. I remember when we went on class trips she would be sitting alone. Most of us had friends we wanted to sit next to and chatter away but no one wanted to sit next to her. I remember trying to explain to her the difference between singular and plural once. I was scandalised she was in 6th grade and didn&#39;t know. And I remember not being patient. I don&#39;t think any of my teachers were patient with her. Occassionally when I wasn&#39;t so caught up in my own world I would feel bad for her but I never did much about it. Today, I wish I had. I wish I&#39;d made a difference.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;There were many such students in my class and we weren&#39;t nice to any of them. Children are an odd mix of compassion and cruelty. While they don&#39;t see the differences we do sometimes, on other occassions they react with undue harshness to these very differences. I was never really mean to her but I was never more than polite. I don&#39;t think I ever really wanted to be her friend. But I wanted her to know I was nice for my sake. I couldn&#39;t stand being downright rude or mean to anyone so I tried to help when I could and I was polite. But she needed a friend. A voice to speak up for her and I wish I did.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I don&#39;t know what demons she was fighting. Family, disorders or circumstance. But I wish we hadn&#39;t added to it.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;And I&#39;d like to say I&#39;m sorry. 10 years later as I sit here thinking, I wish I&#39;d had a little more courage. Just a tad bit.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/5144996198613522726/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/5144996198613522726?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/5144996198613522726'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/5144996198613522726'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2012/03/i-was-12-years-old-and-she-was-in-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-7706686195901536025</id><published>2012-03-19T23:35:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2012-03-19T23:40:19.560+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I just can&#39;t help it</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I just can&#39;t let some things be. There will be a constant nagging inside if I do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I just submitted a report for one of my modules. I am not required to give extra time for it. The prof clearly said we can choose how much time we want to devote it. I chose not to devote a lot of it. At this point I don&#39;t care about the grade and I have too many things on my plate. Does that mean I stop caring? No. I just can&#39;t help it. When I&#39;m the one editing the final report I can&#39;t help correcting every last grammatical error. I can&#39;t help making sure each sentence sounds good. I can&#39;t help check the spaces and the formatting. I can&#39;t help but check the font!! I don&#39;t want to. My mind is telling me to stop the madness but I still do it. There is no way I can hit submit knowing something wasn&#39;t right. It still irks me that i didn&#39;t size every one of the pictures perfectly. And I just remembered the citations are messed up and I will definitely go back to correct them! Much as I would like to not do that!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;You know what! I just can&#39;t help it. Like I can&#39;t help so many other things. I can&#39;t help relapsing once in a while. Keeping a count of how many days. Wishing and wondering.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;
&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhQRDUTGQgM-AeTY2zY0fbcSsa1grR4jGOTYbTkrr-Cne3H7WrHGLPcqEFyMvxvfTSMl0GpoDKYOFj-wCg57Ru4dcxd3XdE8iE9chDPlSj51OpWfo_CoLwphXmsIr9oy1HaxQF1OTH2YY/s1600/Picture1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; height=&quot;216&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhQRDUTGQgM-AeTY2zY0fbcSsa1grR4jGOTYbTkrr-Cne3H7WrHGLPcqEFyMvxvfTSMl0GpoDKYOFj-wCg57Ru4dcxd3XdE8iE9chDPlSj51OpWfo_CoLwphXmsIr9oy1HaxQF1OTH2YY/s320/Picture1.jpg&quot; width=&quot;320&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Maybe I have a disorder. Who am I kidding? I have a disorder and I need help y&#39;all.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/7706686195901536025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/7706686195901536025?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/7706686195901536025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/7706686195901536025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2012/03/i-just-cant-help-it.html' title='I just can&#39;t help it'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvhQRDUTGQgM-AeTY2zY0fbcSsa1grR4jGOTYbTkrr-Cne3H7WrHGLPcqEFyMvxvfTSMl0GpoDKYOFj-wCg57Ru4dcxd3XdE8iE9chDPlSj51OpWfo_CoLwphXmsIr9oy1HaxQF1OTH2YY/s72-c/Picture1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-5869930991651166148</id><published>2012-03-14T21:57:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2012-03-23T01:22:38.855+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Growing up</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I love public speaking. Always have. Since I was 7 and took part in the Ram Krishna Ashram elocution competition. That rush of adenaline before you speak in front of an audience. The butterflies in your stomach and yet the excitement. It&#39;s an amazing feeling. The love for the stage and the mic. I miss it. All of it. And I hope it&#39;s not too late to go back to it soon.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Is that a part of growing up? Do we sometimes leave behind things we once loved unknowingly? Leave parts of you behind that soon become fond memories you talk about lost in growing up. Caught up in the throes of life we let things once important slip by. Every once in a while as I ponder over what lies ahead I question the choices I&#39;ve made. While I&#39;m not disappointed with where I am right now I do regret some choices. Things I could&#39;ve done. And regret is one of the ugliest feelings. It&#39;s that sinking in your stomach made so much worse by the helplessness, the knowledge that you can&#39;t go back. But what you can do is make sure you pick every shell that catches your fancy as you walk along the sandy beaches of life. Occasionally a wave comes along and some are washed away. But that&#39;s okay coz up ahead there lie a few more.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I am at one of the most exciting but scary as shit places in my life. If my life was a novel this would be the beginning of Book 2. Not just a new chapter but a new book. A new book filled with new places and new people but the same old me with new aspirations and goals. New promises and new challenges. I had a plan. That plan changed and I don&#39;t know if I am on track.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;But now I have a new list. A list of all I want to do and be. And a new plan. I don&#39;t know if 10 years from today how far along this plan I&#39;ll be but I sure as hell am going to try. And public speaking definitely is on the list. What is life afterall without hope and excitement?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/5869930991651166148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/5869930991651166148?isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/5869930991651166148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/5869930991651166148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2012/03/growing-up.html' title='Growing up'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-3991930025884457652</id><published>2012-03-11T23:05:00.001+08:00</published><updated>2012-03-11T23:08:07.240+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life and such</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;It&#39;s a crazy time of the semester. Deadlines, submissions, projects, assignments and tests looming one over the other. Sometimes I can&#39;t keep track of just what is due when and struggle to knock one down after the other. Its like the shooting games you play. Just when you kill one zombie running towards you there are other two coming from the back and eventually one of them gets to you or you keep up the fight till the end of the level.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;When the semester started I had this crazy fear. This panic in my guts that didn&#39;t seem to go away as I saw what lay ahead and wondered if I would keep up. Two months have gone by. One day at a time. One step at a time. A blurry countdown. Now it&#39;s less than two months away. The end of an era. The book 2 of my life. But I think I am happy. That panic that seemed to loom over me is not there much. Sure, there&#39;s more on my plate than I can handle. Coupled with work it&#39;s a big surprise I&#39;m not going nuts. Maybe I am.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;It&#39;s a beautiful day and great weather. And today, I can sit here and appreciate that. A small smile on my face.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Happiness is a funny thing. I&#39;ve come to believe that the purpose of life is to be happy. And yet everyone has a different answer to &quot;what makes you happy?&quot; How do you chase something when you have no directions? All I know is what clouds over my happiness. And for now I am hoping to fight for light through those clouds. We all do. Some of us find it and others keep looking for it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;Meanwhile, I find my dose of happiness in a cup of coffee. A good movie and a good song. A bright shiny morning and the dozen little things that make me smile through life.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/3991930025884457652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/3991930025884457652?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/3991930025884457652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/3991930025884457652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2012/03/life-and-such.html' title='Life and such'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-7889774005296604479</id><published>2012-03-08T12:23:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2012-03-08T12:26:29.264+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Honesty</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &#39;Helvetica Neue&#39;, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;As I read through the pages of &lt;a href=&quot;http://brookefarmer.blogspot.com/&quot; target=&quot;_blank&quot;&gt;Brooke Farmer&lt;/a&gt; over a considerable part of yesterday I realised something. The common thing about all my favourite bloggers is the fact that they are brutally honest about themselves and their lives and I value that. It&#39;s a part of what makes them awesome.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;I have always shied from that. Baring my soul to leave exposed the very vulnerable parts of me. My fears, anxieties, beliefs, aspirations and everything that digs a hole in the core of who I am. To discuss that on a blog that I protected from ever being found seemed inconceivable. Still seems. The few times I crave to let those feelings surface I prefer shooting arrows in the dark. I disguise them in the cloak of vagueness and hope&amp;nbsp;no one&amp;nbsp;ever sees&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt; them from what they are. In fact, I have probably mastered the act of doing so. How people discuss love and heartbreak, fears and despair, the past and the baggage is beyond me! And, even as I type this I know to most I sound crazy for I see no rational reason myself! Protect myself from hurt? Maybe. The safety of the dark? Maybe. Trust? I don&#39;t know. Honestly these are the common reasons anyone would venture and I wouldn&#39;t know what applies to me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;This is not to say I lie. (Well, I&#39;m sure I&#39;ve told that&amp;nbsp;occasional&amp;nbsp;lie but you know what I mean) Every opinion on this blog holds. Or at least did when I wrote it though I may have reformed some of my views. And yet, as of today I&#39;ve shared the link with very few people. The fear of approval that I refuse to accept. That struggle between not wanting to be judged and yet being okay with the judgment. The fear of opening up more than I want. Isn&#39;t it better to hide?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;As I read these blogs I can&#39;t help but ask myself will I ever get where these bloggers are? Is it courage I need? Courage to tell the random reader what I fought with, what I achieved, what are my insecurities and what I am proud of. More importantly, do I want to?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Arial, sans-serif;&quot;&gt;When I started writing, I didn&#39;t want to spill my life on an online public diary. A few years after this journey started I am ready to make a change. Or at least try to(Clearly I still need that refuge of shooting arrows in the dark)!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/7889774005296604479/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/7889774005296604479?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/7889774005296604479'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/7889774005296604479'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2012/03/honesty.html' title='Honesty'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-5085674404778779965</id><published>2011-10-20T15:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-10-20T15:22:06.362+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Abstinence</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;Yes I am abstaining from the internet. Which means I do not go online at all. No facebook, no gchat and no yahoo. Let me tell you its no easy feat! Day 1 and 4 hours into the challenge and I already found myself tempted a few times!&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am hopelessly addicted. I log on to Facebook god knows how many times and while I am at home there is a very good chance you&#39;ll find me on gmail unless I am sleeping. I don&#39;t know how that happened. Most of the times I am invisible but hey just coz I am online so often doesn&#39;t make me very social. Is it really a bad thing? Maybe its not. Everyone is hooked onto their Smartphones and that is the trend of the day but I would like to know that I can kick it. And if its really that difficult to stay offline, it is all the more reason for me to try! The change was sudden but internet just creeped into our lives. Just 3 years back smartphones were a rarity and today who doesn&#39;t have it?&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Maybe I am still an old-fashioned bum who likes to think that we need to break off from technology and find the time to sit and stare. Look at the world and all that shit ya know. And I am ok with that. Sure I am fascinated and being without a radar myself I acknowledge that its one heck of a blessing. And yet here I am trying to fight it. I am weird like that.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I am really not sure why I do such random things and try to fight the internet. But you know what, its on bitches! Hopefully, it leads to more productivity coz I could totally use that you know.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/5085674404778779965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/5085674404778779965?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/5085674404778779965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/5085674404778779965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2011/10/abstinence.html' title='Abstinence'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-5106242767433014130</id><published>2011-09-18T18:30:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2012-03-08T12:29:08.880+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I have no appropriate title as happens often</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;I have too many flaws and if I were to list them I wouldn&#39;t know where to start. What is interesting though is that for a long time I never really saw them as flaws. I mean so what if I am a little impatient right? Or highly impatient if you will. That is not a flaw flaw. So what if I am short-tempered&amp;nbsp;occasionally? In my world there were some flaws which were acceptable and there were some which totally weren&#39;t. I don&#39;t think much has changed but once in a while I do think I should be able to change some things. It would be good if my mind didn&#39;t go crazy doing summersaults and thinking overtime. (Why does blogspot not have summersault in the dictionary?!? Its like how my phone doesn&#39;t have bitch or fuck though that is probably worse.) No, I am not going to go ahead and list my numerous flaws as that is a much longer list best left to some other time. (Incidentally, leaving things to some other time would be a part of that list.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;(This is not my best piece of writing fyi. I have too much I need to vent and this is just a super long rant. It might not even be long coz right now I only have that vestigial feeling of the need to write but the moment has definitely passed.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Once in a while I find a blog that makes me go &quot;Omg! That sounds just like me!!&quot; Neurotic crazy individuals who do random, quirky things which remind me of my own absurdities. What sets them apart though is that they actually pen down some things I would never dream about publishing even on this rather obscure blog. That&#39;s how I am wired. If it is important and actually matters to me I will go out of my way to never discuss it to anyone. I have lots of friends but when it comes to sharing the messed up bits of my life I won&#39;t turn to anyone. And no its not their fault cause I do have an amazing bunch of friends but I have never learnt to share. The moments of openness are few and rare and set far apart sadly. It amazes me how people share important aspects of their life on public platforms like blogs and facebook. Maybe that&#39;s a part of growing up and I need to start taking my baby steps much as I appreciate my own company. Narcissist much? Maybe....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/5106242767433014130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/5106242767433014130?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/5106242767433014130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/5106242767433014130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-have-no-appropriate-title-as-happens.html' title='I have no appropriate title as happens often'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-8128323443732606175</id><published>2011-06-11T23:44:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2013-07-03T13:09:24.163+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Patriotism?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;
For some reason I never associated or saw patriotism as a thing of the present. It always appeared in the History textbooks and whatever little relevance it had to my life it never meant giving up your life for something you believed in. It just never occurred to me that people might actually give up their lives for political beliefs! Naive much? I guess. And that is not to mention the hundreds of lives I know were given up for nation and religion.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yet, when I read about the lives lost in Sudan, Tunisia, Egypt and Yemen for political freedom it shocks me. They must be people with families. Normal people with the passion to fight for what they believe in. What moved them? Did they think they would lose their lives? Were they willing to lose their lives? Were the close ones willing to let them go? How does one make their peace with something like that?&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
There are just so many unanswered questions. I don&#39;t know what are the answers I am looking for. The idea that some of those lives were lost and yet they might have been coerced into fighting for it, that they might just have been pawns in a much larger political agenda; is very daunting.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I remember distinctly, as a small kid I was very patriotic. Maybe it was the school, the environment or the fact that I am just a bit of an idiot which was responsible; I have never clearly understood. I wanted to do things for my nation. I saw things that were wrong or that people told me were wrong and with my naivete I wanted to go and correct that, armed with nothing but good will. What could possibly go wrong when you are smart and have a good heart? Clearly, nothing!! &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Then something happened. I grew up. I questioned everything I had been taught and made to believe as a fact that you don&#39;t doubt. &quot;India is great and you are proud to be an Indian.&quot; It didn&#39;t make sense. All I knew was that some other things were so much more important to me. I blamed it on me being a coward only to wake up and realise one day that its more than just cowardice and courage. Its about what you value more than what you have been taught to value or what you perceive you value.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I am yet trying to understand and figure out my life, my values and what I want. I admire everyone who has the courage to stand up for what they believe in. I hope to be able to do that if nothing though I don&#39;t know if I will ever be convinced to give up my life for my nation.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
PS: To every Indian soldier out there who has given up more than I could possibly imagine please do not get me wrong. I value what you&#39;re doing just that I don&#39;t think I am capable of doing the same.&lt;/div&gt;
</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/8128323443732606175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/8128323443732606175?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/8128323443732606175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/8128323443732606175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2011/06/patriotism.html' title='Patriotism?'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-4010800440568986817</id><published>2011-06-11T23:39:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2011-06-11T23:39:43.135+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of Control</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&quot;And I know not if, save in this, such gift be allowed to man,&lt;br /&gt;
That out of three sounds he frame, not a fourth sound, but a star.&quot; - Browning&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&quot;A hive about to swarm is a hive possessed. it becomes visibly agitated around the mouth of its entrance. The colony whines in a centreless loud drone that vibrates the neighbourhood. It begins to spit out masses of bees, as if it were emptying not only its guts but its soul. A poltergeist-like storm of tiny wills materialises over the hive box. It grows to be a small dark cloud of purpose, opaque with life. Boosted by a tremendous buzzing racket, the ghost slowly rises into the sky, leaving behind the empty box and quiet bafflement. The German theosophist Rudolf Steiner writes lucidly in his otheriwse kooky &lt;i&gt;Nine Lectures on Bees: &lt;/i&gt;&quot;Just as the human soul takes leave of the body... one can truly see in the flying swarm an image of the departing human soul.&quot; &quot; &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/4010800440568986817/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/4010800440568986817?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/4010800440568986817'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/4010800440568986817'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2011/06/out-of-control.html' title='Out of Control'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-3717354372887730733</id><published>2010-10-11T17:09:00.003+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T15:32:28.798+08:00</updated><title type='text'>And I dump all of it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I have too many opinions. So often I go I do not like this and I do not like that or I don’t support this and I don’t believe in that. It’s endless. Yes, an extension of being awfully judgmental and I can’t help dishing them out every so often more often than not to find out if you agree. I don’t care whether you do or not but somehow I must know. So I can argue with you and convince you otherwise or convince myself because what the hell I have to argue and I have to discuss. It’s an affliction. Anywho considering I have been doing this a little too much lately I decided I am going to dump all of my ridiculous, probably biased opinions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I hate corduroy pants. Really really hate them!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I hate velvet dresses or tops or any kind of clothes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Nothing excuses wearing socks with slippers.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I don’t believe that you ever do anything without expecting something in return. It doesn’t make sense and it is not possible for a human! We are a selfish people and we always do something to get something in return. It is the law of life so yes all that crap about altruism, and doing something for someone is well what I said it is, crap. And there is nothing wrong with that. That is probably the reason why the world functions, why we function. Ofcourse it gets complicated when you try to find a balance between what you deserve and what you actually expect. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Love is not blind. You act blind to some things because you make exceptions. Willingly. In the end it is all about making exceptions.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I don’t like cats. In fact I don’t like any animals unless they are far away or in a picture or video.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Chocolates and ice creams make life better. And so do sisters. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;&amp;lt;3&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I don’t like doctors.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I don’t believe in the death penalty or even religion.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I am a confused person and I think I lost the point of this ranting a while back but I will continue nonetheless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I believe who you are remains the same after a certain point in your life even though everything about you changes beyond recognition. Occasionally something really dramatic could bend that inner you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;There is no god and we only turn to him because we need faith and if it has a face it makes life more bearable.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I used to be patriotic but I think it has lost meaning now. For a long time I found a reason to love India. It is not enough to be born in that country though a part of me is attached by virtue of it being my home. And it pisses me off to hear about our golden history trying to instill pride while the present continues to embarrass us. I get it national pride is important for us to survive as a nation but I am sorry it is not working on me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I don’t like liars and hypocrites.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I am in awe of Alan Shore. I admire how he stands up for what he believes in. A man of values.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: Symbol; line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-family: &amp;quot;Times New Roman&amp;quot;; font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal;&quot;&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I don’t like the notion of the government parenting the people. Awful as it sounds I actually believe that if you are stupid enough not to know what is good for you, you probably deserve it and it is not the Government’s job to protect you from yourself but protect the society as a whole.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I am highly fascinated by bullet points. I am fascinated by lots of random things.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I love drinking but I strongly disapprove of smoking.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;I love a bum.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt;Peanut butter and chocolate spread are awesome!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;I could go on and on but for now it feels good to have dumped all of it here. I might not believe the same thing tomorrow and I am okay with that because I am sure to change perspective, see things in a different light but for now I believe in what I said. :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: small;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;line-height: 115%;&quot;&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/3717354372887730733/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/3717354372887730733?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/3717354372887730733'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/3717354372887730733'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/10/and-i-dump-all-of-it.html' title='And I dump all of it.'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-6013186521733504461</id><published>2010-09-26T02:03:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-26T02:03:25.216+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Would you...</title><content type='html'>Would you rather charge an innocent man or let a guilty one get away??&lt;br /&gt;
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I asked myself many a times and each time I end up letting the guilty one get away. There are too many factors to be considered like what was the guilt, who is at risk, how guilty etc. Putting all that aside if I were to pick I wouldn&#39;t risk charging an innocent.&lt;br /&gt;
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PS: Liberty lives in our hearts and no constitution can save it once it dies there.&lt;br /&gt;
PPS: That was unrelated. :P</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/6013186521733504461/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/6013186521733504461?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6013186521733504461'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6013186521733504461'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/09/would-you.html' title='Would you...'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-4267928799262104322</id><published>2010-09-15T16:47:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2011-09-18T18:33:04.046+08:00</updated><title type='text'>HOW?!??!? HOW DO YOU DO IT?!???</title><content type='html'>&lt;div dir=&quot;ltr&quot; style=&quot;text-align: left;&quot; trbidi=&quot;on&quot;&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Ok yes, I find it awfully hard to decide things. I over-think. It is typical for me to go on and on about how something is good or bad till either I run out of time and am stuck with the last option or my head hurts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;Like for a simple meal I consider things like:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;When was the last time I had X? So do I want it again? How long will it take? Do I have to go far? What other options do I have? What are their pros and cons? Was it nice the last time I had it? Do I have to eat now? What if I am hungry after 2 hrs again?! What will I eat then?? Should I just wait? But then I am hungry.... Can I wait? So should I get something more filling? Then if.... (This is just a trailer trust me. It would be a treat staying in my brain!)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;It goes on and on and on.... Do you see what that is like?!? I need to shut my brains!! Stop thinking so much. It is so uncool. If there are gnomes in my brain I&#39;m sure they feel like they&#39;re living in a press that refuses to stop working. (I really have no idea where the gnomes come from!! ) Yes, even at night coz I am so awesome I think and think even in my sleep! If electricity was used for thinking I would be responsible for a HUGE percentage of the pollution. Thank you very much. I am a very non-environment friendly person.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;I don&#39;t even know if I should be thankful I am able to pick my clothes every morning without spending hours on it! And you know what consumerism has just resulted in my brain having to work overtime!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;So yes, if you are normal please tell me how you manage to decide whether this or that?? Chocolate chips or double chocolate?? blaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/4267928799262104322/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/4267928799262104322?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/4267928799262104322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/4267928799262104322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/09/how-how-do-you-do-it.html' title='HOW?!??!? HOW DO YOU DO IT?!???'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-1896039558765366693</id><published>2010-09-11T22:50:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T22:50:04.283+08:00</updated><title type='text'>And the rut gets deeper...</title><content type='html'>Sometimes you wonder if you will ever get out of that rut. It seems like it has always been there. Occasionally you pretend its not a rut and on other days you try scramble your way out. Ofcourse you just end up with dirt in your nails in a deeper rut.&lt;br /&gt;
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But someday you will get out right?? You have to!! If you want to move from one day to the next you have to believe that you will!&lt;br /&gt;
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I am going to quit before I make this post any more depressing and hopefully I will come back with something a little more cheerful the next time I visit this place.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/1896039558765366693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/1896039558765366693?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/1896039558765366693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/1896039558765366693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/09/and-rut-gets-deeper.html' title='And the rut gets deeper...'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-7094592762494763953</id><published>2010-09-07T02:34:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T22:55:30.103+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Death...</title><content type='html'>I hate it when people use euphemisms about death!!! No, you do not wake up in a better place and no you don&#39;t go to heaven! I have a lot to say about this and no time so will get to it later.&lt;br /&gt;
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PS: I know it helps us get along but it&#39;s just a blatant lie and I don&#39;t appreciate it!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;span style=&quot;color: #666666;&quot;&gt;Updated: It is so ironic that right now I would love to say this euphemism to someone and be able to believe it.To be able to convince them. And yet it eludes me as I struggle to find words.&lt;/span&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/7094592762494763953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/7094592762494763953?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/7094592762494763953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/7094592762494763953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/09/death.html' title='Death...'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-6417406419535654417</id><published>2010-09-01T18:02:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-10-11T18:04:21.469+08:00</updated><title type='text'>The unuttered....</title><content type='html'>Its been forever since I wrote. Yes, words seem to elude me and I try to avoid having to pen down anything anywhere while I hope that soon I will have to get it out. And I hate this feeling. The feeling of sitting at the keyboard waiting to write something that probably doesnt want to be written. And surprisingly it is just like words. Words that you don&#39;t say but which don&#39;t die. You try hard to forget them but they stick, unuttered. That&#39;s the fascinating thing about words, they&#39;re beautiful and alluring and just rarely they vapourise. Most of the times they appear, an expression of what you think, believe and feel. :)</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/6417406419535654417/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/6417406419535654417?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6417406419535654417'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6417406419535654417'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/10/unuttered.html' title='The unuttered....'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-6591873988251168791</id><published>2010-03-21T18:16:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T18:00:14.585+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Does it make sense to anyone?</title><content type='html'>As I scan through the news I read about lots of things that go wrong with the world. There are earthquakes and tsunamis and floods and like that wasn&#39;t death enough people decide to go out there and kill each other themselves blinded by a dozen reasons. Reasons that make sense on paper and in conference rooms as great minds discuss strategies and combat ad move the pieces of pawn. And yet on the field it translates to lives. It means that someone will not see the morning the next day, will not hit the bed at night and curse about how life sucks coz someone took that life away and there will be someone who will yearn for him to come back as the emptiness of the night creeps in. But he that was swallowed will never come back. To them it won&#39;t make sense; why tomorrow should not have some and yet have some.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And then there will be me and thousands like me who will scan the news and lament over the loss of these lives. Except that they will just be numbers to me. Numbers that though horrifying are just numbers. Numbers that I will soon forget as I wake up to a new tomorrow. Once in a while one of these numbers will find a face, a voice and a name in a book or a movie and I will mourn the waste. Till the face is blurred by a flurry of days.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Do I regret that?? No, I don&#39;t. Harsh as it may sound I&#39;m glad they are just numbers. I don&#39;t think I have the capacity or the horizon to give names to the multitudes lost. They will always mean something to only a few and become part of the statistics for the rest of us. It&#39;s the way it is meant to be. Throughout life we pass by thousands of people in various ways and only some are meant to stay with you as the years fade away. Once in a while you&#39;ll miss the ones that went separate ways. (There I digress a little.)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t know how the Presidents and the Prime Ministers and their army of minds sleep at night knowing that their decision or their judgement could have cost a life. A few thousand lives! And just what if it was a mistake? What if you made an error? How do you then tell yourself that you won&#39;t repeat it?! How do you tell those who are not here anymore that you made a mistake? Cause now they are not here any more!! And yet someone has to make those decisions. Because in the grand scheme of things your chickening out won&#39;t always save lives! There will always be other factors beyond your control who will force you to make these choices. You just sure as help hope that you&#39;re right or that a pricking conscience doesn&#39;t keep you up like it might keep some.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/6591873988251168791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/6591873988251168791?isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6591873988251168791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6591873988251168791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/03/does-it-make-sense-to-anyone.html' title='Does it make sense to anyone?'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-6585535463283817235</id><published>2010-03-04T02:18:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-04T02:18:47.420+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Choices</title><content type='html'>When does one start having a choice?? I don&#39;t know when was the first time I shook my head and told mom that I wanted the blue toffee instead of the red one. When I shook my head to tell her I&#39;m not hungry or that I don&#39;t like that icky looking spoonful she is trying to feed me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But these weren&#39;t the important choices. The important choices would have been whether I wanted to go to school or not? Whether I wanted wanted to dance or play basketball. And I&#39;m not saying that things have been forced on me.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
But just when do children exactly start making their own choices? When should they be allowed to choose their paths? When we know that now they&#39;ll choose like we teach them to? What should they be allowed to choose? (Yes, I think I can safely say that I have crossed the line. :P )&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
We guide them and direct them into seeing the world as we see it. We teach them to appreciate what we appreciate and value what we value. And sometimes I wonder which bit would&#39;ve been me if not for some influence or another.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Not that there is anything wrong with that. When you enter this world and stare at the plain blue sky you need someone to tell you, you can fly if you get out. To tell you not to scorch yourself as you scale distances. To hold your hand and show you what the ground feels like. The only trouble is when we don&#39;t see the world clearly ourselves. When we try to impose what is not for us to impose!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
It is very tricky and a lucky few get it right.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/6585535463283817235/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/6585535463283817235?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6585535463283817235'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6585535463283817235'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/03/choices.html' title='Choices'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-6824718318132690517</id><published>2010-03-02T05:21:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-03-02T05:21:16.547+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Holi</title><content type='html'>I just realised how much I miss mom and Shivali on holi. I&#39;m not really that big on taking colours and acting like a nutcase. &amp;nbsp;But they were always so excited. Right since morning. I remember even as kids Shivali couldn&#39;t wait to start messing the house. Right since she woke up. Or sometimes the day before only. :) And I tried my best to stay clean till as long as I could. Till I was finally bullied by mom and Shivali and become a mega mess. It was like they couldn&#39;t get enough of messing the crap out of me till I probably had purple scalp and blue nails!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yes, they bullied dad too. :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
And I miss that. I miss mom forcing me to get out of the house and enjoy the day. She tried from there but it doesn&#39;t work unless she is there to drag me along.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I love you guys and I miss you a lot. Every bit of it. And for a change I wish that you could put every damn colour on me much against my will. I wish.....</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/6824718318132690517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/6824718318132690517?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6824718318132690517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6824718318132690517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/03/holi.html' title='Holi'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-2071988435425252756</id><published>2010-01-14T22:11:00.005+08:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T16:57:39.409+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I have no clue what is there in this post but it was incomplete so I&#39;m gonna go ahead and write something so I can publish it. You&#39;ve been warned. Probably.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style=&quot;color: white; font-family: inherit; margin: 0cm;&quot;&gt;Remember that time I was all like there are gnomes in my brain and that they are &amp;nbsp;little wonky cause really being caged in someone&#39;s brain would totally turn you that way especially considering that well brains are not really the most friendly places to be in especially if its a brain like those in Harry Potter V in which case I really pity the gnomes or whoever is trapped. Though coming to think of it the reason those brains must be acting all evil and all is because the gnomes or whosoever had become Evil. Anywho I deviate.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;color: white; font-family: inherit; margin: 0cm;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;color: white; font-family: inherit; margin: 0cm;&quot;&gt;What I&#39;ve come to realise is that I have no freaking clue how I came to write this post in the first place since I abandoned it after the deviation and that doesn&#39;t give me any clues as to where I could possibly have been going with all that rant. Anywho I still decided to continue writing and take it somewhere I guess because I really don&#39;t like incomplete drafts and I am beginning to have too many of them that I never complete or post. So blog bitch its not happening now coz I am going to finish it even if I have no freaking clue why I was talking about gnomes in the first place. It is highly possible that they were rampaging the crevices in which they hide causing me to forget what I was saying except that now it has been so freaking long since I started writing this thing that I can&#39;t even go ahead and say its all the fault of the gnomes!!&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;color: white; font-family: inherit; margin: 0cm;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;color: white; font-family: inherit; margin: 0cm;&quot;&gt;Anywho so I was out last evening watching the calm sea and the buildings and the lights. It was a really beautiful place and I could sit there staring forever. (ok you know not forever) And then as the sun disappeared too many lights appeared out of nowhere giving shape and meaning to the things that would have been swallowed by the darkness of the night otherwise. The skyline of buildings unknown and the castle that holds princesses and dreams and fairies and unicorns(there actually was a castle we could see. No kidding)!! I love watching the reflection of these lights in the water. Shimmering, shifty, mysterious, trying to find a form, a shape. One with the water, the waves and the ripples. I stare at it trying to find pretty words that would make it more beautiful but I know there are none that &amp;nbsp;might help. I wonder why we do that?! Trying to put into words memories and feelings and such pictures as if they are not concrete on their own. (Atleast I do that sometimes.)&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;color: white; font-family: inherit; margin: 0cm;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;color: white; font-family: inherit; margin: 0cm;&quot;&gt;Ahh well to complete this super random post I&#39;m going to tell about the most awesome coffee cup that I just bought! Better still......&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; color: white; font-family: inherit; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujXyOou0Zw6VLYRQNte_bF1JCaKf2D1x2hCVEvOyGRf2M-wSh_E28xv6H9r1QHs6wSbPLNbVgF9NWqTaPQJRL3k4KUT5GanAYK9nZ3BN8qZoRPxWKFtPO94hsl2bTwjnNJbjHEgOJRu_o/s1600-h/IMG000069.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujXyOou0Zw6VLYRQNte_bF1JCaKf2D1x2hCVEvOyGRf2M-wSh_E28xv6H9r1QHs6wSbPLNbVgF9NWqTaPQJRL3k4KUT5GanAYK9nZ3BN8qZoRPxWKFtPO94hsl2bTwjnNJbjHEgOJRu_o/s320/IMG000069.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;color: white; font-family: inherit; margin: 0cm;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: large;&quot;&gt;&lt;span style=&quot;font-size: 18px;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style=&quot;color: white; font-family: inherit; margin: 0cm;&quot;&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.... :D *grins like an idiot and almost does a little happy dance*&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
(I know the pic barely does justice to the cup but ahhh well... :D )&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot; style=&quot;color: white; font-family: inherit;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/2071988435425252756/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/2071988435425252756?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/2071988435425252756'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/2071988435425252756'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/01/i-have-no-clue-what-is-there-in-this.html' title='I have no clue what is there in this post but it was incomplete so I&#39;m gonna go ahead and write something so I can publish it. You&#39;ve been warned. Probably.'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhujXyOou0Zw6VLYRQNte_bF1JCaKf2D1x2hCVEvOyGRf2M-wSh_E28xv6H9r1QHs6wSbPLNbVgF9NWqTaPQJRL3k4KUT5GanAYK9nZ3BN8qZoRPxWKFtPO94hsl2bTwjnNJbjHEgOJRu_o/s72-c/IMG000069.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-3118263169556134938</id><published>2010-01-14T14:54:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2010-01-14T14:54:44.479+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pending Mail</title><content type='html'>Dear lost me,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I&#39;m not sure what has happened but just when you thought you had all the time in the world to scribble away and get it out of your system the words got lost on the way. There are too many incomplete posts and unsaid things that you need &amp;nbsp;to get out of the way!!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Anywho this is the first step towards that and revamping of this space. So hoping to see you back on track. :)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours truly,&lt;br /&gt;
The sane you.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Dear NUS,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I don&#39;t wanna die at this tender age. You&#39;re trying your best so try and let me survive will you? I know it&#39;s kinda hard for you but we can work on it together. *a really flattering smile* I&#39;m glad to be back if we&#39;re both going to give it a shot. (that&#39;s a lie but I hope it works!)&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I won&#39;t ruin anything with more words but cheers to you not screwing me!&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours truly,&lt;br /&gt;
Wary of the new sem.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Dear home,&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
I miss you a lotttttttttttt. Like really really really really a lot! Miss everything about you. (Like everything! ;) ) Ya to you I just wanted to say you were superrrrr awesome and I hope to be back soon! :D&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
Yours truly,&lt;br /&gt;
Missing you a heck lot.&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/3118263169556134938/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/3118263169556134938?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/3118263169556134938'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/3118263169556134938'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/01/pending-mail.html' title='Pending Mail'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-5819867196723668146</id><published>2010-01-14T14:29:00.002+08:00</published><updated>2010-04-23T02:22:35.628+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grey&#39;s Anatomy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;separator&quot; style=&quot;clear: both; text-align: center;&quot;&gt;&lt;a href=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTiwmDONMlVVWaguWr_FmpzNsRsDa1o-ogc6HIMPeK9McUgmuDaren6Ht_Xy8kHBdTQlVouqwXWemc-qUec6MZLBroRC2v5QgMqPrkHUasnNRAQuvIIJyR_xsdHjwSKvNafUy0uzNM-_kD/s1600-h/greys-anatomy1.jpg&quot; imageanchor=&quot;1&quot; style=&quot;margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;&quot;&gt;&lt;img border=&quot;0&quot; src=&quot;https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTiwmDONMlVVWaguWr_FmpzNsRsDa1o-ogc6HIMPeK9McUgmuDaren6Ht_Xy8kHBdTQlVouqwXWemc-qUec6MZLBroRC2v5QgMqPrkHUasnNRAQuvIIJyR_xsdHjwSKvNafUy0uzNM-_kD/s640/greys-anatomy1.jpg&quot; /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-GB&quot;&gt;So now I’m waiting in the waiting area for my flight and there seems to be some more time and nothing to do! The end of another holidays. For some reason this waiting area gives me a very sad feeling like I wasn’t happy the last time I was here. Anywho not the point. The point is the holidays were awesome and I didn’t want them to end. I never really do even if I miss Singapore once in a while. And well I did nothing productive throughout the break much unlike what I wanted and yet much like what was to be expected! (seriously I am pretty much hopeless like that! Le sigh.). But I digress. What I actually wanted to say was that in the spirit of being unproductive and jobless I saw a lot of Grey’s Anatomy. And it is super awesome so if you haven’t seen it you should give it a shot! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-GB&quot; style=&quot;font-family: Wingdings;&quot;&gt;J&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
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&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-GB&quot;&gt;And every time I see it among the other things that I ponder over, one is how some professions have so little leeway for mistakes! If I make little mistakes and forget things, that I’m very much prone much to, much to my chagrin, sometimes its okay! It doesn’t stop the world and more often than not the only one who pays for it is me!&amp;nbsp; But some people can’t afford those mistakes! Like surgeons and firemen and policemen and presidents and soldiers. They don’t get the benefit of doubt. If they screw up other people pay and so does their conscience. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-GB&quot;&gt;Which brings me to another reason why I love grey’s. They care. All the doctors. They have a conscience. When your job is like theirs it’s amazing if you can save your conscience. Something is wrong the day you don’t flinch when you say you’re sorry, when you don’t stop to wonder if all you did was enough, when it doesn’t sadden your heart even a little bit at having lost a life. And yet when that is what you do every day it requires courage and character to be that. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;
&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class=&quot;MsoNormal&quot;&gt;&lt;span lang=&quot;EN-GB&quot;&gt;And the question that always turns up when I see it is if I could be like that (that is assuming I could cram all the shit that they do in my tiny little brain and for some reason be fascinated with cutting up and putting together body parts! Ohh yes they are fascinated by it. I know right!! Baffles me too). Would I have come through with flying colours? I’d like to say yes but I know I don’t have the answer to that except that it is daunting. &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/5819867196723668146/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/5819867196723668146?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/5819867196723668146'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/5819867196723668146'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2010/01/greys-anatomy.html' title='Grey&#39;s Anatomy'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTiwmDONMlVVWaguWr_FmpzNsRsDa1o-ogc6HIMPeK9McUgmuDaren6Ht_Xy8kHBdTQlVouqwXWemc-qUec6MZLBroRC2v5QgMqPrkHUasnNRAQuvIIJyR_xsdHjwSKvNafUy0uzNM-_kD/s72-c/greys-anatomy1.jpg" height="72" width="72"/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-6297186093101619585</id><published>2009-12-24T19:22:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-12-24T19:22:43.530+08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love everyone??</title><content type='html'>And every other wise person and religion and smart quote asks you to love everyone unconditionally. Hate is a waste of a life that is too short so spread the love around.&lt;br /&gt;
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But hard as I might try (I don&#39;t try that hard also) I can&#39;t convince myself that I should love everyone. Love is special and unique. It is not something dished out in charity to every Tom, Dick and Harry. Dish out sympathy and pity if you want but don&#39;t degrade love. What is that love even worth if you have to do nothing to deserve it? &lt;br /&gt;
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Is there nothing that differentiates the flee-ridden-mooch who is a parasite to the society and that person who actually means something to the world and to you? There is. There is a big difference and that is how you react to that person!! Love is not a gift by virtue of fate or coincidence but something that you earn by being who you are. It is that highest accolade you could give to anyone for being who they are to you and the world.&lt;br /&gt;
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While I don&#39;t promote hate as a way of life that eats away at your very core I know it is inevitable. Some people ask for it and the best you can do is delete these people from life. (If you can kill them and not get caught good for you. This doesn&#39;t mean I am promoting people killing each other out of hatred. More along the lines of erasing them from your life. Just thought should clarify!) They are not worth even a glance let alone a feeling that occupies your mind leaving little space for better things of life.&lt;br /&gt;
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There are lots of mushy and cliched things that people have said about love numerous times so I&#39;m not gonna spring them on you here except the fact that not everyone has to be loved! Atleast by you.&lt;br /&gt;
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PS: Finally finishing the tons of incomplete posts. Hopefully the trend shall continue! :D</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/6297186093101619585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/6297186093101619585?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6297186093101619585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/6297186093101619585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2009/12/love-everyone.html' title='Love everyone??'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9170543607801735928.post-1048665074454845507</id><published>2009-11-10T14:01:00.000+08:00</published><updated>2009-11-10T14:01:50.507+08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love India</title><content type='html'>Before I knew what India is and what to love means I was taught to say and believe that I love my country. And before I knew it I was happy when we won a match, on the defensive for India and disappointed everytime we lost. I never questioned how the hopes of a million strong could rest on 11 guys?? (Yes, cricket illustrates my point like nothing else) It did not matter why I went out of my way to defend and fight for things I knew I couldn&#39;t deny. I was proud of things that people did thousands of years ago only because I happen to live within the same geographical boundaries after centuries. Feelings of patriotism and love for my nation came naturally and I can&#39;t even point at the things that bore these ideas into my psyche.&lt;br /&gt;
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Then one day I asked myself? What has my country ever done for me to be proud of it or for me to love it?? Does it have to do anything? A 5 years younger Nirali had answered in all solemnity that it didn&#39;t have to do anything, I had to. But now a wiser me wants to question the concept of a nation. Wouldn&#39;t I have been as proud to be a German, French or an Iraqi for that matter. Something would always be amiss no matter what country I belonged to but I would love it for the culture, the values and the mere fact that it was home where I belonged if nothing else.&lt;br /&gt;
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From a societal point of view the concept of a nation is important. As humans we tend to live in groups as communities, and nations are exactly these. With similar values and beliefs it is but natural to feel a sense of belonging to a certain group of individuals. And considering that there are many individuals world-wide with a strong sense of nationalism if your society or country happened to lack it all of you would be at risk. So I should probably be thankful for the few who bring this love to fruition and make life safer.&lt;br /&gt;
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On the other hand the sense of belonging to a nation invokes a collectivist attitude in all of us. With the world becoming smaller with the spurt in technology and the spread of globalisation the national boundaries and values are becoming blurred. And while this might suggest that patriotism is dying it definitely isn&#39;t. It is there and ever present. The only difference is that now you probably sit in Singapore and cheer for India and feel depressed over its lousy performance.&lt;br /&gt;
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I am not sure if I love my country in the true sense of the word. Would I still be an Indian if given a choice before I came to this planet? If I did choose to be an Indian would it be because I have always been and don&#39;t know otherwise? India is home and always has been. The quirks, the weirdness, the faults and all is one package. It forms a part of who I am no matter where I go and how I change. I might not always identify with Indians and agree or like many things about this land but I will still continue to be an Indian.&lt;br /&gt;
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And yet does that mean I would do anything for it? No. I always knew the answer was no, but I used to think it was because I am a coward. But you know it only means that other things like my family are way more important to me and nothing can change that. I know it is not so for many people and I probably admire them but I wouldn&#39;t change the way I feel.&lt;br /&gt;
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So, yes I love my country too but probably just in a different way.</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/feeds/1048665074454845507/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment/fullpage/post/9170543607801735928/1048665074454845507?isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/1048665074454845507'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9170543607801735928/posts/default/1048665074454845507'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://erratic-outbursts.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-love-india.html' title='I love India'/><author><name>Nirali</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/11743605589699806230</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0Y1e_A5XoBg/UdQVP2C_XeI/AAAAAAAAAVE/PEzqS9vti5Y/s220/IMG_20130130_190334.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>