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Willy's Weblog

Thoughts from an unfocused mind

The Orphan at the airport

Four years at the airport wasn’t something to laugh at. Then again Jim didn’t have any friends who laughed. Jim never knew his parents, or siblings. He was orphaned at a young age. The airport was his first assignment out of the academy, all of which maybe explained why his colleagues treated him like a child.

He stayed close to the airport, and since he worked flexible hours he was always on call, so he rarely got to go out and meet new people. Don’t get the wrong idea, Jim was handsome alright, there were many quick glances and flirting, but work always came first for Jim. Sometimes he wondered if he’d meet the right one at all.

His only favorite part of the week was when Anna came to the office. Anna was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. She was dark skinned, with silky hair. She always wore this necklace with little stars on it. He was in love with her. But he knew things would never work out between them. She lived with his boss. Something told him his boss wouldn’t be too happy with the arrangement. Whenever he tried to strike up a conversation with her, his boss would butt in, literally.

He had never known anything besides the academy. They say you are never to betray your brothers in the force. Which is why he turned a blind eye towards half the stunts his ‘brothers’ pulled. Over the years work had got so monotonous that he dreamed of just jumping on a plane and getting away from it all. Go to the beach he’d seen in pictures. Maybe he could ask Anna to run away with him. But he didn’t have any money to pay for the ticket and traveling in the cargo hold wasn’t all that glamorous or romantic, he’d heard horror stories.

Life is so unfair; he thought and dropped down with a deep sigh…

 

“What’s wrong boy? You alright?”

“Leave him alone will ya, come here and help me open this bag”

“Here boy, have a biscuit”

“He don’t eat biscuits man, he only eats that dog food crap”

 

This post is part of the 200 word challenge.

Zero Day

I chose today to sleep all day,
But woke up and decided it was a lazy day.

Send out texts, drank Gatorade,
Then wondered how I’d keep up the charade.

Didn’t make any lunch, neither dinner,
Then felt myself getting thinner.

Wanted to get some exercise in,
Just ate some fries and did a fly spin.

Went online to look for a book,
Ended up watching an old man cook.

At this point, this is just a lazy rhyme,
I think I’ll pour myself a glass of wine.

I’ll end it before it gets too ugly,
Already running out of words that’re too bubbly.

 

This post is NOT part of the 200 word challenge. I got lazy.

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Looking back at October ’07

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Well this is just convenient, when lost for ideas to write about, go to Daily Prompts and boom! new post idea !. I’m supposed to look back at the very first post on this blog and rewrite that one. Here is the original from back in October 2007, if you can handle some cringe worthy material. Lets not goto the spelling & grammar errors, and the SMS lingo.

Some context: It was 2007, before I joined Facebook, I had something of a social life then (outside of the Internet).


Hey everyone, thanks for stopping by ! Welcome to Willy’s Weblog (Yes I’m aware what “willy” is slang for, but remember they also named a movie “Free Willy”).

This is my second attempt at blogging, I didn’t quite like the setup @Blogger.com. Thought I’d start off with why I made this, and why I’m “blogging”.

With Facebook and other social media platforms, all of us are writers today, we write short and long form articles on the daily. We can write a poem in a comment to something, Craft a story with friends while chatting and even post a long status about something we feel strongly about. But I don’t believe that’ll help us if we want to practice the “art of writing”. Too many distractions. Just like we would log entries for an experiment in one particular log book or diary, I think we need to record everything we write in one place. Thats just me. Maybe I’m wrong.

So that is what this is. That place to record my ‘art” form.

I guess criticism is another reason. We all need some form of feedback on our work. Or else we won’t know how to get better. When publishing our work in a forum for people to read and critic, we are opening ourselves up for criticism, compliments and sometimes ridicule. Only when we learn how to take them positively can we really move forward!

I’d like to thank YOU! If you are reading this, you’ve given me great joy and comfort on this journey I’ve been making. Thank you for taking the time out for letting me know how I’ve been doing.

There really is no excuse today for not working on something you love. Be it learning a new language, or mastering cooking we have all the resources literally at our fingertips. To quote a friend quoting a friend , “When lacking motivation in doing something that is worth the effort, just think, you are CHEATING yourself by not doing it”.

Alright that about wraps it up. Hi Mom & Dad (waves excitedly)!! Peace out.


 

Fun fact! : Although I didn’t know when I started writing this, this is actually the 50th post I’ve written here. And the only other time I’ve written 7+ posts a month after October 2007 (when I started) is Jan 2016 i.e. now.

Also I just dug around and found the first blog at Blogger : http://anandw.blogspot.ae/ .The Truth is Out There indeed

This post is part of the 200 word challenge.

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One “Special” Butter Chicken: A Short

Butter_Chicken_and_Naan

 

Rohan took a deep breath and pushed the door open, to the restaurant. It was late afternoon, the place was deserted. The cashier sat engrossed in the day’s paper, didn’t even look like he noticed someone come in. He walked to a table near the kitchen door and sat down.

After a good ten very silent minutes, the waiter entered from the kitchen. He looked straight at Rohan, picked up a menu and came up to his table. He casually threw the menu on the table and said “Welcome to Indian Fort, we’re all out of the lunch buffet, you’ll have to order à la carte”

“That’s okay”, said Rohan.

The waiter started back to the kitchen saying “Take your time”

“I’ll take the chicken tikka masala” Rohan said fast.

The waiter turned around, “That was quick, but I guess some people just are”

Rohan chose to ignore the sarcasm and said, “I’m sorry”

“For chicken masala? Hah don’t be” said the waiter and strode off back into the kitchen

Rohan sighed and kept staring at his hands. Not really hungry, he was wondering if this was even a good idea.

The waiter opened the kitchen door and said, “Sorry mate, no chicken tikka masala, all we can offer is butter chicken”

“I’ll have that” Rohan said. He closed his eyes, he was losing nerve by the second.

The waiter rolled his eyes and went back inside. He came back a second later and asked “would you like anything to drink? You must be thirsty, you look like you’ve been getting a lot of exercise lately”

Rohan hadn’t taken his eyes off his hands. “No I’m fine. I just… I’m sorry Kailash”

“That’s alright, one needs exercise”

“I’ve cleared out my room already, I’m moving out” Rohan said.

“Why would that bother me mate” The waiter snapped back and left.

In the kitchen, Kailash walked up to the chef and said clearly “One Special butter chicken”. The chef looked at him for final confirmation, nodded and then got to work.

Kailash came back with his order, some Indian bread and water. “Enjoy” he said and left.

Rohan looked at his meal, and he knew. He had heard countless retelling of the same stories during their weekly beer session. Rude customers and anyone in general the staff didn’t like getting “specials” with their orders, and how the last place Kailash worked at shut down after 3 people came down with food poisoning, in three separate incidents.

He took his time with the meal. Blame it on Catholic school. He took penance & forgiveness seriously. There was no choice, this was penance for his sins.

He looked at Kailash straight in the eye and took the last bite and saw him smile. Kailash handed him the bill and walked away.

Rohan left whatever money he could find on the table and left quickly, half running, cursing himself.

The cashier looked up at him leaving, turned to Kailash and said, “That’s the second roommate this year isn’t it, you either need to dump that chick or let me move in with you guys”

“Fuck you”, he said “and tell the boss I quit”.

 

This post is part of the 200 word challenge.

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Pivoting in life

Today’s post inspired by The Daily Prompt’s : Futures Past

I was about to write about ‘pivoting’ today, then dropped the idea. Then i stumbled onto a writing prompt about how visions for our future have changed since we were children, if at all. And how far away from that vision we really were. This was a sign from the Seshat herself. So i ‘pivoted’.

Pivoting in business is best described as a radical re-imagination of a company as a whole. When something isn’t working and a company decides to do change tracks and go in another direction. Just like companies, people pivot in their lives too.

When i was a kid, I wanted to be a thief. I liked knives, guns and things that weren’t mine. I soon realized that wasn’t a very respectable career option. But when you really think about it, did i change my opinion because it was not respectable or was it because i was lazy. Maybe external influences or lack of them pushed me in another direction.

Ever since I’ve wanted to become a pilot,hacker, writer, photographer, millionaire, scientist (later found out I just wanted a lab coat) and a few others. Am i any of those things now? No. But I am only as far away from becoming either of those things as my mind believes it to be.

I used to think it was a straight path to wherever you wanted to go in life. Used to think i had it figured out, until i realized i had built a wall around my brain and i couldn’t see past it. Its scary to pivot in real life. Things don’t always go to plan. But scarier things happen when you know you have to and don’t. Things like regret. You don’t want to mess with regret…at all.

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This post is part of the 200 word challenge.

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How to get high with To-do lists: No lighter required !

The only way to feel truly alive is to do the thing that you fear the most

I don’t know where I read this first, . Could be someone’s adrenaline talking, but for me doing anything new comes with a high.

Doesn’t have to be physical all the time. Now I don’t know if watching horror movies count. Maybe public speaking or talking to new people are better goals. Just make a list of 10 things that scare you the most and then go out and do them.

We all need some set of goals in life to work toward. If you don’t , you need to set some right now. There are tons of resources out there to help you. And meanwhile to have some fun while you work toward them, you can do your ‘Things that scare me” list. Trust me you’ll walk away with a few good stories to tell.

If I’m being honest, I don’t hit all the check boxes every time. But as long as I’m hitting some and working toward the rest, its all good.

The very first note on my phone says “Take own advice”. That will always be my top thing to do, and should be yours too if you like giving out free advice.

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This post is part of the 200 word challenge.

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The Faux Lake boys

Tom lived on a farm in the hillside town of Faux. He was a normal kid who liked climbing trees and riding his bicycle around town. He was afraid of the dark like kids his age & he liked to pretend play.

Tom’s dad worked on the farm when he went to school. His mother made lunch, dinner and fed the horses hay all day

Tom had two good friends at school, Jim and Sam. They played pirates & monsters, cops and robbers. There was never a dull moment to say.

Jim and Sam looked quite the same, wore the same clothes, and even had the same red bikes. But were they brothers Tom asked? And they both said nay.

They went swimming by the lake and fishing too, but Tom always had to get home before dark. Jim and Sam they played there till late, because home was nearby they said, Though Tom never asked where they stayed.

One evening after school, they invited Tom home to play. Come home they said it’s nearby, but Tom he was worried about dinner getting cold and hurried home before it was too late.

They asked again the very next day, a bit insistent this time. Said there were more friends to be made near home, just beyond the woods by the Lake. But Tom didn’t want to miss Shepard’s pie his mom had made, said tomorrow and then made haste.

That night at dinner Tom’s father said they had to leave for the city far far away, for a new job and a house to stay. All our bags are packed he said, they would leave early the very next day. But Tom wanted to bid last goodbyes to his friends before he went far far away. Father refused to let him out, said it’s too late for kids to play. He had to go to town he said, to get supplies for the journey next day.

Tom had an uneasy nap, and woke up late at night when father opened the gate. He went to look and saw him carry a big red box and load it into the trunk.

On the road next day, Tom’s mom handed him lunch, a meat sandwich as she always does. This one is veal, just the way you like she said to father and handed him one as well. We have enough to tide us through and this time with no trouble too, he said.

No one played at the Faux Lake again, after the two boys disappeared. Stay away from the lake they said, it’s no place for kids to play.

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This post is part of the 200 word challenge.

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Maybe i suck at this

And by the way, everything in life is writable about, if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.

Sylvia Plath

I remember the exact moment i gave up on writing. It wasn’t the best time of my life. I had just written a short story ‘Cat Stew’, my second , after abandoning another one half way. Took a few months till I was done with a draft. And when I finally sat down to edit it, is when I knew why it had taken so long, cause it was rubbish. And i put it aside so long, so that i didn’t have to face the truth.

I had pegged all my hopes on that one story being my best. I hoped if you simply show up and do something, it would count as effort. I half assed it. Could have saved it if i had put effort into rewriting it. But i decided to abandon Cat Stew. Second time failing to finish something i set out to do hit me hard. I stopped believing in myself. And i just gave up on everything i dreamed of.

Maybe i did suck at writing, maybe all i was good for was shitty rhymes, that I can technically pass off as poems and odes. Maybe..

But what if. What if I just need to put more effort when i “show up” to write. What if maybe i do suck and the only way to get better is to keep doing it over and over again. That ‘What if’ keeps me alive, and helps me get through tough days. ‘What if’ is why I’m back.

  • Watch Elizabeth Gilbert’s excellent TED talk if you haven’t.

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This post is part of the 200 word challenge.

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on Road Rage

If I had installed a dash cam 8 years ago when i started riding bikes and driving cars and just recorded everything, I’d either be in jail or murdered by now.

I’ve been flashed at, honked at, given the finger, yelled at, cut off, did i mention the finger ? Just road rage at its worst. Not saying I’m Saint Paul, I’ve done all of the above too, but it always felt like i was in the right (so said Hitler too).

When i first got my licence. Riding around town i was hoping people would high five me on my achievement. They didn’t. Well spare a nod at least for my exceptional bike riding skills and turn signal usage.. No? Okay then. So it began. Expecting people to be nice on the road led to nothing but disappointment which later turned into anger. Why be nice when no one else is.

When i moved to driving cars this escalated. Two years on since starting to drive a car, road rage incidents I’ve been part of have gone nowhere but up. Just today a guy cut me off and then we proceeded to enact our favorite car chase from a Michael Bay movie and then ended on a high note by “exchanging pleasantries” at the signal.

Things could have gone south, i could have died or been responsible for someone’s death.

If you’re reading this, guy in that car, sorry man.

“Suffering exists because of unfulfilled expectations” Buddha (i think)

I’m not perfect, but its time to stop expecting people to be nice on the road, or go Mad Max on them when they don’t. I like to live to see Mad Max 6 (the re-reboot). Next time I’ll just let them pass.

 

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This post is part of the 200 word challenge.

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