Mon chat

My cat died and I'm feeling awful.
Well, okay, I lied.
I don't have a cat. And my non-existent cat did not die.
Well, it did. I certainly feel like it did. If I had a cat and it died, I'd feel like I do now.
Or not.
I don't like cats. So I wouldn't feel like crap if it decided to fucking die on me.
Or maybe I would. I wouldn't have a cat if I didn't like him.
So yes, my cat died and I feel terrible.

Deep breath.
(Some sobbing while listening to sad music)

I really loved my cat, you know? He understood me so well, and sometimes not at all. He never knew how to cheer me up but I was glad he tried. He loved me so much and I loved him too. I still do. Even if he decided to fucking die on me.

I don't know if I'll love a cat as much as I loved him. No cat could replace him.

Sir Ramsay, I hope Cat Heaven is treating you well. 

Pictures, Emma Stone, and Love (alternate title: I don't know what the heck I'm writing about)

I don't like taking pictures. I hate being the subject of a picture. I'm the girl who stiffens up and gets awkward when she gets photographed. When I see something beautiful and/ or strange, my first instinct isn't to take a picture of it. I just gape open-mouthed at said object of beauty.

And if you know me well (and I doubt you do. Heck, even I don't know myself well!), I'm going to analyze the crap out of this fault of mine.

So behold, dear readers:

Why I hate being photographed and why I hate photographing stuff:

Why I hate being photographed

1. I'm deeply insecure about my looks. There, I said it.

That's the only reason, really.

And about my next pet peeve:

Why I hate photographing stuff:

1. I don't see the need of taking pictures when I know that I won't peruse them later anyway.

2. A picture is just a two dimensional representation, and I'd rather feel the experience, smell it, breathe it in, look for tiny irrelevant details and mull over it than waste time in snapping a picture of it.

I hate it when I stop writing halfway, but I think this guy explains what I want to say quite well. But please don't go to his Wikipedia page, he is a little cuckoo. But who isn't?

Don't take a selfie, draw a self-portrait instead. 

But please do take pictures if you have a Fujifilm Finepix S200EXR camera and your name is Vyacheslav Mishchenko. 

Presenting, adorable snails!

And now that I'm on a link sharing spree, I have got to share this video too.

And another (somebody stop me!)

And something about love.

Quite the sucker for love, I am.

Of Untamed Hair and Children's books

I have an unruly, curly mop of Malayali hair and I'm proud of it. Not exactly proud. I'm okay with it. Which is much better than hating it so much that you wish you weren't a Malayali in the first place. Straightening my hair is always an option, but I don't like the weird texture of artificially straightened poker straight hair. Accepting my crazy untamed hair was my zen moment. Erm, this isn't a post about having freaky Malayali hair and loving yourself crap (maybe a little bit of loving yourself crap)

So I'm uncool. Big deal. I love my uncoolness. Why try to be cool and mask your weirdness? Be yourself. Unless you're an asshole. Then be yourself minus the assholery.

People have different views of what's cool. But I think Calvin is a little gross

And you bore the world when you try to be cool

The Calvin and Hobbes search engine has made my life so much more easier.
Also helps me fill up some space when I have nothing to say.
I don't even know why I'm writing. I think I'd better stop now.

Children's comics and books are so much fun! Truth be told, I don't remember reading any classic children's books as a kid. Oh, I do remember reading a Russian Children's magazine as a kid. It was beautiful and had the most wonderful illustrations. It must have been Misha. I remember my brother borrowing a magazine for me to read when I was sick, and it was Misha. I had found my joy. Good times.

I remember crawling around in diapers, looking at my brother reading a comic book full of bikini babes and bare chested guys on the beach. And I thought to myself, "I want to grow up and be able to read those speech bubbles and know what these pretty people are saying". I grew up, learnt to read and picked up that Archies comic and it was bliss.

I have never (gasp!) read a Dr. Seuss book. I should get some for my nephews and nieces.

There are so many more great books, some of them have escaped my memory and I am feeling too lazy to list them.

This is going to surprise you!
Oh, and I loved this. Made me happy all over and reminded me of my best friend from school.

P.S: I promised to stop somewhere in the middle of my post. But I sort of wandered off. Here's something to make you happy.