Writing. Period.

(This post has nothing to do with the picture. I just put it there because I love it, I love the black and the little silver in it. This ring is a marcasite one, I have been wearing it since last February now.)

As for this post now, what is this about? Nothing really. I don't have anything earth shattering to write about. Actually, I do have a lot of stories, but today, I'm too lazy to string my thoughts into words. I want to write, period. Every once in a while, I have this urge. After a day of writing at work (which, I must say, has been a reason to smile from the past few days), I sometimes get this urge to write, just rant or rave or pour my miseries or just about pull out my strangely disoriented thoughts out of all corners of my mind and throw it out and refresh it. When I do that, thoughts I didn't know I was thinking come out. Also thoughts that I have been accumulating over days, the ones I didn't have the time to really think, you know what I mean? Thoughts I see out there and suddenly realise that I had them too.

This is just rant. And random musings. They are the best sometimes when I want to write. Without a storyline, it is rather liberating to write disjointed sentences and be done with it. The absence of having to conform to something is where my thought process best emerges.

A table for one. The last one month, i have been sitting on one rather often. There is nothing like sitting with a book and myself for company, a cup of hot chocolate (great ones at Java City behind office) and the time to think my thoughts. I have always been doing this, bringing up my loner side ad revelling in the luxury of silence. I see myself do this, a de-stresser, unwinding; no fancy reasons I would want to give. I simply love being by myself sometimes. Just that, it has been happening more frequently this past month.

I ruined the best friend Manju's data-loaded laptop. Hated myself for it, that thought continues.

Got myself a tattoo on my left inner forearm, the symbol of infinity, a horizontal 8. It didn't hurt a bit. It was an almost ten year old dream to get one. I love it, can't say it was the same with the others.

I have been reading Haruki Murakami, a bit of Jayanth Kaikini in Kannada and some. Music wise, haven't discovered any new favourites.

Connected with the cousins, loved the nieces and the nephew.

Been able to take a breather in the house, just walk in and out of rooms, figure out the TV, listen to the silence and children playing in the park in front. A vessel falls. Text messaging. Sorting out pictures on my laptop. That reminds me, the Acer Aspire One has reduced prices now, I might finally buy it.

The Aero Show is coming up, yeah!!!

I have started to sing again.

Sunday is the 11th of January.

(How random can I get now?!)

Is my urge to write satiated? No, not really. I am so thankful it can never be. My thoughts are too many, too myriad. I have too many stories I want to tell. The passion is but an eternal flame.

And so I shall write.