Breaking up with FB

I finally gathered enough resolve to deactivate my Facebook Account.  The greater show of strength would have been to successfully minimize the usage but that was far from happening.

Reasons for bidding goodbye:

1. Too much info about people I am not interested in. Sorry. That needs editing. I mean - Too much info about people I should not be interested in but I am. (I'll rewrite Robbe-Grillet's The Voyeur.) Hence lots of pathetic hither-thither movement of my virtual self. So and so's marriage, so and so's exam, so and so cried or died. Bleh.

2. Wasting time. (FB Tata has been compensated by greater hello Twitter BUT that will be brought under control.)

Reasons enough.

Facebook behaves like an annoying clingy boyfriend when you try to leave . The most pathetic being, showing you your friends' DP, with the caption "xyz will miss you". I actually laughed out loud when they showed me that page. They bid you a final goodbye (after you have avoided being seduced back into temptation) by saying something like - We hope you'll be back soon. ARRRGH.

Okay let's see how long this lasts. Wish me luck. 

I really really really don't like spooky books. Monsieur Pain is freaking me out. It's back in the shelf for now. Thank you very much.

Have gulped down loads of fruit juice for lack of  options.

I absolutely detest going to the bank, if only I hadn't let that damn machine eat up my ATM card. :(

I will go bald.

Charlotte from SATC named her dog Elizabeth Taylor because the dog was as pretty as her. YES, it is precisely for such hilarious stuff that I watch it.

Someone just tweeted about Chatar matar and Fatafat.

I remember we stayed in a rented house when I was in Nursery and I studied in Alipore Tiny Tots. Everyday as I walked back home with Ma, there was a dadur dokan that we crossed and I would inevitably ask for a hojmi. Some days my mother indulged, on other days she didn't.

I always hated chocolate lollies, they stick to your teeth, in unreachable corners, same reason why I hate eclairs.

When I have hours to spare I don't feel like writing a word and when I am supposed to meet deadlines and work hard, I feel like blogging.

I think my lower back will collapse, thanks to my amazing posture. I like my work but I don't enjoy staying at home and that is exactly what I am supposed to do for the next few months at least- Stay at home and work. My friend is in an alien city and having a terrible time , which should ideally scare me and induce me to thank my lucky stars that I don't have to go to that place right now, in this season of rain and dengue and malaria, however, as expected I am supremely restless.

This recent film that I watched made me want to dance again. Impossible unless I pledge an oath to bring fitness back into life. This thought is disturbing. I shall go back to The Wildings by Nilanjana Roy. I read her blog all-day everyday during my first job ( I worked a little too!). I love this book already. 

Bye.

Small Talk

My father can talk to anyone, from the bus conductor to a fellow passenger in the auto , he can ask terribly impertinent questions without the slightest hint of awkwardness.

The other day I went to buy vegetables with my father, who insists on picking them one by one, once they pass his scrutiny, and putting them in the basket. The veggie-seller was distracted and he was about to give us someone else's vegetables;of course my father did not let that happen and said "egulo amar peyaaj noy...ki korcho? tomar ki hoyeche?" (these are not my onions...what are you doing? what has happened to you?) The veggie-seller then narrated a long tale of how the light in his stall wasn't working, he had to get up and fix it so many times etc. I was getting annoyed. Now I realise that at the mall from where I at times buy my fancy stuff like "soy milk" :P , no such conversations happen ... those guys are better dressed and if I hover in front of a shelf for long, they just come and mumble annoying things - "can I help you?" ... "this is good ma'm" ...yes I do prefer that rambling veggie-seller than the pushy, robotic, sales-people at the malls.