The thing about Twitter

I've always believed that I should never sit down to write when my heart is sad. Yet I do it now, in the belief that my love for writing will somehow...sort things out.

Good grief no, I'm not going to pour out my sorrows onto this page, I'd need to pay you therapy fees then, yes?! (I just imagined people leaning forward with an "I'm listening." *grins* Frasier-much?) Things get better. Bad moments pass. I'm just in the middle of a passing baddie right now.

I've recently started using Twitter again. The bird never really 'settled' with me till a little while ago...I thought it to be a bit of a bother, especially when I was flooded with random tweets - hourly, nay, minute by minute updates, on peoples lives. Eessh. I don't want to know every detail of your day. Even if you are a sell-out star or author. If you do have that much to say, you turn to the other great gift of the www - the blog. Knock yourself out.

But Twitter grows on you. Especially if you're following the right people. Style, news, fashion, wit, humor, sports, movies - you can find something that's right up your alley. I enjoy the tweets of a few celebrities. Steve Martin, John Cleese and Ranvir Shorey are current favorites.

I have a lot to learn about a few interesting people I follow - Sidin Vaducut is a writer. For now unfortunately, that's all I know, but I plan on getting my hands on a book of his soon. Also he's an ex Gulfie. That's instant identification, right there!

Rofl Indian. That's his name, apparently. Check it out. For giggles and news and a few rofl moments.

Between Facebook, Twitter and blogging, Twitter is winning the race in terms of convenience. And of course, something to do when you're waiting alone for the elevator. And our fair friend Faebook, has a new format. Yes I hear the grunts and groans, but hey, you're still on it aren't you? If you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

But blogging stays my favorite, comfort zone perhaps. You're welcome to follow, like, eat with your hands if you must. It's not so much social net-working...just perhaps creating your own little social dot of a planet. People can come by if they like, settle down, build house...but you don't care if you're the smallest planet, or if they name you or not, or if you're considered to be part of the galaxy of other, much bigger, more prominent dots. Pictures, thoughts, memories, opinions - it's all yours.

Such a nice feeling to have something you call your own.

Here's a shot from Thailand, earlier this year. We were at some ruins, surrounded by monuments in rock and stone. Some kid recreated one of the taller structures, with stones and pebbles. Very Zen-ish thoughts came to mind. No mountain is too big to be broken down into smaller pieces. Anything can be overcome.

And voila, the heart is lighter. And smiling.

Whaddya know.

Doing the Desi rounds

If this had to be my 4th Grade English class, I would have been the recipient of a big, fat, bolded, highlighted and underlined 'F'. For absenteeism and irregularity. But then, my 4th Grade English teacher had a soft spot for me. So a 'C' perhaps.

As luck would have it, this isn't 4th Grade. Yet that gnawing feeling of guilt still hits me when I see that my last blog post was....*rechecks*......oh good Lord, 5 months ago. I think the gnaw just rapidly developed into a deep, gashing wound.

In recent news, India just finished off a series in England. (for the non sports fans, I speak cricket) We didn't win a single game. Not test, not 20-20, not one day. No thanks to unfortunate injuries, initial bad playing (of course I noticed, didn't we all?), bad decisions and the annoying rain game doctors - Duckworth & Lewis. In the last few one day games, we had commentators dissing our players like there was no tomorrow. Indian commentators, mind.

Rahul Dravid...was termed as 'Old India.' Lacking daring, youth and confidence. Let's all just take a moment to take that in. Right.

Rahul then went on to hit a few fours. The man has been playing for his country since 1996. We don't call him 'The Wall' for nothing. His USP has always been his smart game and mental approach. We called him Mr. Dependable. He's also human.

The listening public support the boys in blue now, just as they did when you were a part of the team. Perhaps that's something you ex-players need to think about. I don't care what you're paid to do. Do you hear the likes of Nasser Hussain saying something personally negative about the England players half as often? Not criticizing their shots or styles, but their personal attitudes?? Yes?

I actually heard Harsha Bhogle say to Sunil Gavaskar, "I know Rahul isn't one of your favorite players" and then go on to make some point or other.

Really? No, really?? And I just watch the random matches. What must regulars think of you?

Just a thought, but if anyone's going to beat our players up in terms of commentary, could it perhaps not be the India lot up there in the box?

Give it a read. http://www.espncricinfo.com/magazine/content/story/532509.html

And appreciate the man. Like we appreciated you when you played your last game.

I also watched Bodyguard. *grins*

I'm aware several critics panned it with horrendous reviews. Yet, it raked in the big bucks.

Yet, Salman's fan following grows. What did I think? To be honest, not much of the story-line or the special effects. Or Kareena being cast as a college student. Or the copious amounts of make up she had on. Or, or, or.

But if I were to stay on the honest boat - Salman was....well, Salman. You can't help but laugh at his ridiculous comic timing, or smile when you see the way he seems to thoroughly enjoy his dance sequences. You somehow can't take your eyes off the screen when he's on it. Raj Babbar and Asrani add to the positives, so does the little Harry Potter lookalike at the end, whose name I unfortunately can't find on Wikipedia. Tsk tsk.

A surprise was Karisma Kapoor's voice over for Chhaya. Nice.

Yes, it may be bordering on the lame and the fight scenes may seem to insult the audience intelligence levels - but it's a no brainer, a 'let's be amused' kinda flick.

Delhi Belly revolved to a great deal. around poop, farting and a nice controversial kiss - remember? Dude? Burkha? Yeah.

So come now, leave us not be so critical.

I'm suddenly aware that my post has turned out to be heavily desi.

Apologies if you don't instantly identify with it.

There's a famous saying in India... "kya karein, hum toh aise hi hain."

Which loosely translates to "What to do, we are like this only."

Till later!