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Archive for August, 2008

Ghosty

August 23, 2008 4 comments

My first homework assignment from my animation course. We had to make a cartoon graveyard with a ghost ๐Ÿ˜›

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Whos walking who?

August 23, 2008 Leave a comment

Well the other day I was taking my dog Jerry for a walk, and like always, Jerry was in a tearing hurry and wanted to run as fast as possible, dragging me along helplessly (well kinda) behind him. And while we were running, we almost knocked into a neighbor of mine, who after stroking Jerry asked me this seemingly simple, but yet somehow thought provoking question, “Are you walking him, or is he walking you??”

See cause now that I think about it, I wonder, am I the one in control most of the time or is it the dog? Because most people I know who have dogs, like me spoil them silly. We feed them whatever we eat, we pamper them, wake up and drop everything as soon as they have to go out, and when we’re out with them, if they stop we have to stop, if they move, they drag us along.

So whos the master and whos the pet. I suppose at the end of the day, we’re the ones who’re holding the leash. But then I think the leash they’ve put around our hearts (using their cute puppy dog eyes and tail wagging and cute acts) is way tighter and stronger than the ones we have around their necks ๐Ÿ˜›

In any case, here is little Jerry saying hi ๐Ÿ˜›

Jerry

Yeah he’s definitely the one in charge ๐Ÿ˜›

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Pictures

August 18, 2008 1 comment

I just had to put up this picture I took today… The sky looked so unbelievably gorgeous!!

And I found this Spoof poster on the net and thought it was hilarious ๐Ÿ˜›

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Change

August 17, 2008 1 comment

I know change is a kinda cliched subject to write on, but I think at some point in your life, you suddenly realize just how much has changed around you. So when did it finally strike me… As far as I can tell it was in the train on my way home a couple of days ago.

I remember around the same time last year, it was raining and I was leaning out of the train, just like I was doing two days ago. So in any case at that point last year there stood a dilapidated set of buildings that consisted the ‘Wallace Shaw Flour Mills’ somewhere in between Byculla and Sandhurst road stations. Staring at that building in the middle of the pouring rain was the inspiration to one of my stories called Wallace. Now, to my utter dismay, the mills have been torn down and are soon to be replaced by some ‘International’ School. It kinda makes me sad.

Alright so getting back to change, well there seems to be a lot of it around me right now. And the change is so sudden sometimes, sometimes its so small you don’t even really notice it. My brother going abroad to study is a major change. It’s not until you’re alone in the room you shared watching Supernatural late at night and getting kinda spooked that you realize how big a difference not having just one person around makes.

And then there’s friends. I’m in my first year of senior college. And my old friends are with me, in the same place but I still only meet them once a week, if I’m lucky that is. And well new friends are just that, new ๐Ÿ˜›

And of course there’s love. I met this old classmate of mine yesterday. Till the last time I met her (which was maybe 5 months ago) she and her boyfriend had been inseparable. Now, they’re barely even friends. And it’s funny how easy love can change. Another couple I know broke up, made up, broke up and made up again in the span of 2 hours ๐Ÿ˜› Sure it sounds funny now, but getting caught up in that situation when it actually happened was such a pain. People should note here: Don’t get caught up with couples where both the guy and girl are your friends… It’s a pain ๐Ÿ˜›

But change isn’t necessarily all that bad. I mean my rooms getting painted, which looks pretty good, and the furniture is being shifted around. Plus I’ve gotten rid of a ton of old junk. And don’t we all just love the feeling that we get when we see a nice clean shelf ๐Ÿ˜›

So heres to change, good and bad. Because without it we wouldn’t realize just how good we’ve got it ๐Ÿ™‚

And last but not least, I decided to put up Wallace as well. So I hope you guys enjoyed my random ramblings and go read Wallace. It’s much more interesting ๐Ÿ˜›

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Wallace

August 17, 2008 1 comment

It was an early monsoon morning. The rain poured steadily, rivulets of water streaked down buildings, trees and plants forming muddy puddles on the ground.

A large grey building stood out against the deep, navy blue sky. The dark black clouds hovering in the sky were reflected in the grimy dirty windows of the building. Bits of the already peeling plaster on the walls fell to the ground, along with the thousands of water droplets that seemed to flow endlessly from the skies.

At other parts, the roots of moss and ivy growing on the slippery walls seemed to be desperately clutching to them, trying hard not to fall down to a premature death.

A crow sat on the ledge of a window, one of the few spots sheltered from the rain. Behind it, in faded red paint, the word โ€˜Wallaceโ€™ was barely visible in the thick sheet of rain.

About ten stories below, the building seemed to loom over the tiny figure that stood in front of its only entrance. A dark cloak was draped over her small shoulders and she clutched hard at a black umbrella, to prevent it from blowing away in the strong wind.

Stepping cautiously into the building, she looked around. A large empty hall greeted her, dry for the most part but wet where the water had leaked through broken windows. To the left, was a passageway leading into the many other wings of the building, to the right, a wrought-iron spiral stairway led to the higher floors.

She pulled off her cloak and left it along with her umbrella on the floor to dry. Her long wet hair fell onto her shoulders and into her eyes and brushing it off her face, she headed up the rusty, old staircase.

The iron felt icy on her already cold, wet skin, sending an involuntary shiver up her spine. She climbed the stairs, ascending slowly, passing floor after dizzying floor.

By the time she had reached the top, the storm had become even worse. The sky had turned darker, the wind stronger. She left the spiral staircase and walked into a room on the left, pausing at the door to catch her breath. Seconds passed, maybe minutes; then she felt a hand on her shoulder. She jumped back in shock, almost letting out a scream until she recognized the owner of the hand.

โ€œSo, you finally got here,โ€ said the man who had walked up behind her, a strange look in his eyes. His voice was tinged with a mixture of sarcasm and annoyance, โ€œI almost thought you werenโ€™t coming.โ€

โ€œI almost didnโ€™t,โ€ she replied quietly as her eyes darted nervously from side to side. The man gave her a queer grin and walked to the window, his back to her. He looked down and slowly reached into his pocket. There was a large flash of lightening and a loud bang.

The woman stood a few feet away, her hands shivering and shaking and this time, it wasnโ€™t the cold. She dropped down to her knees breathing hard, the sound of her breath and the fast irregular beating of her heart seemed to be the only sound in the entire room. Then, she unclenched her fists, and the gun that she had been holding onto fell noisily to the ground, clattering across the stone floor.

Cautiously, she looked up outside the window. The sun had just begun to rise, casting a reddish-orange glow in the sky. The clouds were tinged with streaks of orange and maroon. And the man, she saw him, bent double and almost falling out of the window. And although she couldnโ€™t see it, blood dripped from the hole in his head where the bullet had punctured it. It slid slowly down the building and colored the sign that said โ€˜Wallaceโ€™ a darker shade of red.

โ€˜The last Wallace is dead now,โ€™ she thought, looking at the pitiful form of her husband. โ€˜The mills are finally mine.โ€™

And then she saw something white near his feet, the thing her husband had taken out of his pocket. She hesitated for a second and then reached for it, and found it to be a thick white envelope.

She opened it slowly with still trembling hands, tears welling up in her eyes. She held in her hand the deed to the Wallace Mills, that her husband had just transferred to her name.

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