Well.. If my blog had been followed (sad.. if you haven't already), I'd be asked a zillion times, what a serial time waster does. The answer to that, of course, is nothing. Mind you, its an art in its own. Being a classic STW (need I explain this?) takes more than lying around feeling morose and wasted for a day.
Facebook addiction. The mother of all time wasting tactics. F5. F5. Home. Ooooh! Pics. Click Click. Add as friend. Tag. Mafia Wars, Farmville, Fishville (yes, and you feed them virtual worms). Facebook provides wholesome time wasting.
Techno-Junk. Read, gain knowledge and invest, they say. You always make a better buy when you are well-informed. Who would think they were encouraging men to scan websites after websites listing electronic gadgets? More wires to you, STW!
Magazine flipping. Online or otherwise. (My favourite STW-ing technique www.highheelconfidential.com). Nothing more delightful than watching celebs strutting their stuff and nothing gives me more kick to see them getting it all wrong. Atleast, I'm on the same page as they are. (No, I'm not implying page 3)
Plan the Future. Plan some more, realize its all wrong and start from scratch again. Too bad I keep forgetting to take notes.
Speculate on the possiblities. Well the possibilities are infinite, a STW should know that.
Catch up with friends online. A masterpiece of a line ever created, cleverly incorporated by my fellow STWs. Everyday? Really? Does chatting really match up to actually meeting them?
Believe you're an artist. I'm an expert at doodling. A STW can doodle to the extent of believing they're good. I do.
A STW will also blog, micro-blog and then do a round up of all those traits to live up to the name.
Comments anyone? Suggestions to the amateur STW?
Friday, May 28, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
You've got to just love those rainy days in this city. Bangalore, my charming little (atleast, used to be one) city where you expect a tormenting cloud to hover about for hours and then not shower down upon you. The point I'm making is, clouds seem to think here. Uncanny as it may sound, the same cloud can give you a burst of rain and silently float away. Come and go without a bang, and the next minute, bright sunshine!
Ask any true Bangalorean (Bengaluru-ean/Benagloorite sounds rather depressing), they'd give you the most heart rendering reaction about Bangalore (again, I'm going to stick to the charming name it had). "Bangalore's got charm", which pretty much seeps into the people living here as well. Charming, quaint, practical and all those adjectives you'd choose to describe a really charming place.
Being away from here, home, was probably the hardest phase for me. They say, once a Bangalorean, always a Bangalorean. No other city can be called home after being here. After being dropped (like hot cake, at that) into a city (owning to my cribbing nature, I'd rather not name this city, just going to call it city), I felt alienated. Entering City was like entering an oven which your mother chose to pre-heat to bake some cake. City was not so kind to me either, since it had a brain of its own (generously lent to it by the residents). It chose to give me the worst summer, worst monsoon I'd ever faced.
Sooner than I expected, i got used to City, with its ways that connected to the roots of the Indian Culture. I saw it all around me, amidst all the hustle and bustle, the big waves, the loud gyrating music and dance, City never failed to impart little lessons. Lessons for me to look back at life, undo somethings, redo some others. The most important lesson, never (and i mean never) discard your old history text books. You'll find the most amazing man-made structures in City and surrounding areas. Artistic temples, big sculptures and references in your old history books that you never thought you'd encounter.
City is certainly going to have many references in this thread and then the story of how Bangalore pulled me back in one line- Bangalore is home (and I came back humming Mama, I'm coming hooooomme) and will always be.
Ask any true Bangalorean (Bengaluru-ean/Benagloorite sounds rather depressing), they'd give you the most heart rendering reaction about Bangalore (again, I'm going to stick to the charming name it had). "Bangalore's got charm", which pretty much seeps into the people living here as well. Charming, quaint, practical and all those adjectives you'd choose to describe a really charming place.
Being away from here, home, was probably the hardest phase for me. They say, once a Bangalorean, always a Bangalorean. No other city can be called home after being here. After being dropped (like hot cake, at that) into a city (owning to my cribbing nature, I'd rather not name this city, just going to call it city), I felt alienated. Entering City was like entering an oven which your mother chose to pre-heat to bake some cake. City was not so kind to me either, since it had a brain of its own (generously lent to it by the residents). It chose to give me the worst summer, worst monsoon I'd ever faced.
Sooner than I expected, i got used to City, with its ways that connected to the roots of the Indian Culture. I saw it all around me, amidst all the hustle and bustle, the big waves, the loud gyrating music and dance, City never failed to impart little lessons. Lessons for me to look back at life, undo somethings, redo some others. The most important lesson, never (and i mean never) discard your old history text books. You'll find the most amazing man-made structures in City and surrounding areas. Artistic temples, big sculptures and references in your old history books that you never thought you'd encounter.
City is certainly going to have many references in this thread and then the story of how Bangalore pulled me back in one line- Bangalore is home (and I came back humming Mama, I'm coming hooooomme) and will always be.
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