The Internet Cat Phenomenon

Cats.
Internet cats.

"Woke up like this"

"Contemplating"

Why is the internet still obsessed with cats. I thought the cat meme/ picture/ video/ vine thing would die its natural death and the internet would move on to the next new thing. But Grumpy Cat is proof enough that the Internet Cat Phenomenon is still a thing.

I was on the cover of @LuckyMagazine once. It was awful.

A photo posted by Grumpy Cat (@realgrumpycat) on Apr 1, 2015 at 10:15am PDT

Are cats the new celebrities with their narcissistic tendencies and love for the camera? Are we going back to the times when Egyptians used to worship cats?

 Over to you, Wiki

Praised for controlling vermin and its ability to kill snakes such as cobras, the domesticated cat became a symbol of grace and poise. The goddess Mafdet, the deification of justice and execution, was a lion-headed goddess. The cat goddess Bast (also known as Bastet) eventually replaced Mafdet, and Bast's image softened over time and she became the deity representing protection, fertility, and motherhood.

That makes sense. Cats were useful creatures, killing snakes and vermin and keeping your house pest-free. But we don't have that problem now, we have pest control to take care of that!

Now that the Ancient Egypt Cat Goddess angle has been eliminated, what could be the reason behind our obsession with Internet Cats? Why are cats breaking the internet?

Breaking the internet. That reminds me of Kim Kardashian, another enigma. Nope, that's not it. Cats don't name their kid after a direction.

It has something to do with celebrities. I know it.

What do cats have that celebrities don't? A sense of mystery, that's what. We're bombarded with celebrity news. We follow them on social media. We know what Neil Patrick Harris eats.

So I ask David if he wouldn't mind making me a quick sandwich, and this is what he serves. I'm one lucky M'er F'er. #grateful

A photo posted by Neil Patrick Harris (@instagranph) on Aug 19, 2014 at 8:19pm PDT

Cats. The new celebrities who want nothing to do with humans and will never share pictures of cat food (mainly due to lack of opposable thumbs)

Humans. Hungry for sources of social rejection. Suckers for 'mystery' and stuff.

I'm not a 10 year old boy but I like Adventure Time

I'm not a 10 year old boy who likes Cartoon Network and video games. Wait, do 10 year old boys like Cartoon Network? Have they moved on to girls? I don't know what 10 year old boys like. I don't think I know any 10 year old boys. What age are my nephews? I don't know. There's so much I don't know!!!

So, Adventure Time. I'm a 24 year old, er, woman and I like Adventure Time. I'm a fan. I might even write fan fic.

My favorite episode, you ask? Jake the Brick. Poignant, simple and turns my heart into a warm smushy puddle.

Don't let the boring preview fool you, sit back and watch the episode in its entirety to turn your heart into a warm smushy puddle too!

This episode has almost every Adventure Time character listening in on Jake's monologue of the goings on in the wild, where he affixes himself onto a crumbling brick shack as a part of his "mystical journey or whatever" as Finn puts it. It doesn't have any awesome fights or adventures, it's quite the opposite of standard Adventure Time fare. Maybe that's the reason I love it so much.

I wish I could watch AT with some kid. A neighbor's daughter dropped by and all she wanted to watch was Oggy and the Cockroaches!! I tried to convince her to watch AT, but Oggy is all she wanted. 4 year old girls can be so stubborn.  

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. 

Write something, anything!

Okay, I'm going to be brave today and write something. I will not close this window because I have nothing to say. I shall be Kim Kardashian*. Minus the sex tape. And Kanye West.

Woot!

I shall also be French. Because Garance Doré. 

That reminds me, I need to brush up on my french. Duolingo, you foxy owl, you. 

When in doubt, list it

So, I'll be reading a bunch of stuff and writing about it every day occasionally this week
Here are the titles of my future posts:

1. Potato Salad Kickstarter 

2. The reproductive system of a kangaroo

3. The Quit-your-job-and-do-what-you-love wave

4. The perfect recipe for viral content
5. "Be yourself" and other moronic things people say
6. Bees
7. Why I don't use Facebook (I know, done to death. But I want to whine about Facebook too!)

This strip explains my relationship with that pesky social networking website.

I signed up for Facebook because I did want to cultivate interpersonal relationships. Also, I wanted to become less island-ey. But then, out of nowhere, stupid cats popped up in my news feed. So did selfies taken by narcissistic girls and the stupid comments accompanying them. And those typos!

Guess number 7 on my list is done! That sure was easy!

*I shall embrace my air-headed bimbo persona and write something positively frothy and thoughtless, in effect creating nothing out of nothing. 

Trying to Cut out the Clutter, but Cats!

Look, cat!

thbbthtt

Yes, I have nothing to write and I just want to fill up empty space.

One would think that one would have plenty to write about, what with The Internet doing a good job of being The Internet. That reminds me. Behold, Paul Otlet who catalogs Stuff

Or is it all The Internet's fault? (I love calling it The Internet, sounds ominous, no?) Is my mind cluttered with the endless barrage of tweets and updates and posts and feeds? (I don't use Twitter or Facebook, but I like to say Tweet) Is my brain running out of space, with mindless Tumblr cats replacing important information like anniversaries and birthdays of loved ones (One anniversary and two birthdays forgotten this year, not counting the ones I clean forgot, of course ) and remembering to wear pants before I go out.

So, I shall cut down the clutter and remove all that senseless noise from my brain (I shall be retaining the no-nonsense lady who resides in my head, who tries to keep me from spewing nonsense. Because she's been doing a bad job so far and I like mocking her )

Well, maybe tomorrow. Because science! Lifehacker told me to look at cute animals to be more productive. Here's the study that says so.

I'm incorrigible.

Animals. Also, Essays on Coffee Cups

Today, an ode to animals and what they can teach us!
Presenting, dog:



And next:
Sample Little Dog's Rhapsody in the Night, by Mary Oliver:

He puts his cheek against mine
and makes small, expressive sounds.
And when I'm awake, or awake enough

he turns upside down, his four paws
in the air
and his eyes dark and fervent.

Tell me you love me, he says.

Tell me again.

Could there be a sweeter arrangement?
Over and over 
he gets to ask it. 
I get to tell.

I have no words for Tim Flach's website

I do have words for this, though. I was getting tired of reading the backs of ketchup bottles/ cereal boxes when I had nothing to read at breakfast. Have you felt the utter hopelessness of not having anything to read when you're eating out by yourself? Of course, assuming that you've misplaced your smartphone. Plagued by the same misery, author Jonathan Safran Foer started the "Cultivating Thought" project which has original essays by writers printed onto cups and bags of Chipotle, a Mexican fast food chain.

via Vanity Fair

It did spark a few debates, you can read one here.

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.

How to fall in Love with Cats

Cat taking a selfie

There, I've bowed down to the internet and posted cat pictures. Are you happy, Internet gods?

More fabulous cats (with a bit of fashion sprinkled here and there) here

For some reason, I've been trying to fall in love with cats. Everyone loves cats, and I'm passive towards them. There must be something wrong with me. To fix that wrong, I'm on a journey to find my Inner Cat Goddess and love her.

I Googled "How do I fall in love with cats?" And, well, I didn't really get what I was looking for. So people don't actually try to fall in love with cats and it simply happens?

Maybe I should try another Google search, "How do I fall in love with humans?" and that led me to this WikiHow page. Now all I have to do is replace "person" with "cats"!

There are three parts to "How to fall in love":

1. Finding the right person cat.
2. Developing the relationship.
3. Building a lasting connection.

I'll cover one part in each post.
So here goes:

Part 1: Finding the right person cat

      1.  Bolster your self esteem

            "To fall in love and find the right person you must first have confidence and love invested in yourself." 

Love yourself: check. This is going to be so easy.

     

      2.  Consider why you want to fall in love

             "There's no right answer for why you want to fall in love, but there are some reasons that aren't good and that indicate a deeper problem. A few reasons to fall in love that aren't good: you are feeling lonely or think you need your self-esteem bolstered by someone else (this will make you take any relationship you get, which will lead to problems later), all your friends are in relationships, you believe you need to have a relationship to be happy. These are all symptoms of deeper problems that won't be cured by entering into a relationship." 

I want to fall in love with cats on a whim. That's not wrong. Is it? I'm almost sure it isn't wrong.

      3.  Consider what you are looking for 

             "No, don't make a list of exact specifications detailing the hair color, job, schooling level, and personality of your potential significant other. You're not going to ever find an exact match, but you should acknowledge the basics of what you're looking for."

Now the sudden realization hits me that this falling in love with cats thing isn't as simple as replacing "person" with "cat". But I've invested so much time into this so I'm going to see this through.

I'm looking for a cat that won't bite or claw me. Also, I'd appreciate it if she didn't aim hairballs at me. That's all.

      4.  Meet people cats

            "Of course, to be able to find someone with whom to fall in love, you're going to need to go out and meet people. This doesn't mean you have to be a big party animal, or that you have to do things that you're not entirely comfortable with, but it's a good idea to at least try and get out of your comfort zone a little bit."

People who have cats! I can always hang out with them (cats and humans) at their homes

      5.  Open yourself to new possibilities

            "Doing things that you might not otherwise have done can help foster a sense of excitement for you, as well as take you outside your comfort zone to meet different kinds of people."

I can do some cat-sitting, it's way out of my comfort zone.

      6.  Give things time

             "Even if you've been going to parties and your friends have been introducing you to plenty of fun, attractive people, you should still expect the process to take some time. Be patient. It can take years to find the right person. Along the way, you may find people that you think are right for you, but turn out not to be. Use these opportunities as learning experiences. Eventually, you'll get a sense for the kind of person you're looking for."

Now I'm really beginning to see how my replace-person-with-cats-in-a-WikiHow-article- for-falling-in-love approach was so wrong. I hereby declare that Parts 2 and 3 are cancelled. I'm sorry, dear readers.

To make up for my fickle mindedness, here are some adorable cats!

I hate paparazzi!

What did you just say, deplorable human?

Hipster cat

It's Monday already?!

Mantis Shrimp and Geeky a capella

Colors! I didn't think that colors were so mysterious and fascinating till I heard this podcast from Radiolab. It opened my mind to so many ideas. That a Mantis shrimp can see more colors than a human can. I looked it up, and this shrimp seems so bad-ass.

Mantis shrimp, I love you. I love you so much that I want to eat you. (Wait, we can eat them, right? Google says yes. Yay!)
I was going to write a bunch of facts I dug out about this sexy sea creature, but this motherfucker seems to have a fan club. And The Oatmeal has written an eloquent love letter for it.
But I wanted to write a love letter too!
I'm going to draw some blood (mine) and express my love in blood. Beat that, Oatmeal!
I'm new to this bloody love letter thing. How does one go about it?

Here are my options:

1. Prick a finger and finger-write a love letter
It's easy, but might look stalker-ish and amateurish. I don't want my mantis shrimp to think of me as an odd-ball. (Not that writing a letter in blood makes me appear less weird.)

2. Use blood as ink:
I have a whole load of questions about this one:
a. Is my blood viscous enough?
b. Is it too viscous to flow freely onto the paper?
c. What sort of nib should I use?
d. How much blood will I need?
e. How fast should I write before the blood begins to clot?
f. Won't the letter smell rusty when the blood dries out?

I didn't know writing a bloody love letter would be so complicated!

Oh, I'm going off track. What was I talking about? Colors! I'm going to read The Iliad and The Odyssey again to see if Homer did use weird colors to describe stuff. Or maybe I should just believe the guy on the podcast.

And Radiolab introduced me to this guy! He made me wish I were a science geek, just so that I could enjoy his a capella thingy more. I didn't understand most of it, but it sure had me entertained! And it has an Einstein sock puppet! Anything which has an Einstein sock puppet is bound to be awesome.



And that led me to his Rolling in the deep parody. Again, didn't understand much. But this one was pretty awesome too. (I hate that word. And I don't know why I keep using it. I need to find some alternatives to awesome)

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.

This was not what I intended to write

Today, I'm going to gush about Bear Grylls. Today, I woke up hungry. I had also dreamed of insects. And I began to wonder how would insects taste like. Oh, that reminds me of this:



Oh, and I had seen chocolate covered insects. Here's the place to buy them if you ever feel the urge to munch on chocolate ensconced creepy crawlies. (You'd think they'd include a barf bag. They do not) Do you know what I'd like covered with chocolate? Chocolate. Like chocolate puff pastry. Where the layers of chocolate are slightly separated from each other like the layers of a puff pastry. Then I can dig into it and peel out the layers of chocolate and get my fingers gooey and chocolaty. Messy eating is the best way to eat. Where you can touch your food, caress it, savor it's smell and make love to it in your mouth.

Oh, and Andrew Zimmern. I admire this man. I am a very picky eater. And you know how you feel this sense of admiration for people who are at the opposite end of the spectrum. He can eat anything. And I love the fact that he appreciates different cultures for their unique food. And he's a chef!

I know I was planning to do some Bear Grylls gushing. Some other time, shall we, Bear? Right now, I'm thinking of Andrew Zimmern and sighing a little.

I don't know why I'm writing about Domestic Abuse

I woke up today, thinking of Nigella Lawson. See, when I woke up, I was hungry (for food!) and feeling anxious. How I wished to hear her voice, whispering food nothings to me so that it would calm me down. I love watching her show, listening to her soothing voice. Ah, her voice. It sure would zenify me during one of my panic attacks.

She has it all, doesn't she? Stuff men pine for. She's voluptuous, confident, beautiful (with make up on, she may not look beautiful without that lipstick and teased hair. I'm not jealous (er, maybe a little). Just being honest), loves to cook and can cook, intelligent and has an angelic voice. She's everything a man would want in a woman. And yet her husband wants to divorce her after news of his domestic abuse broke out. (stale news, I know, it happened ages ago. But I wasn't anxious and hungry when I woke up on the day of the divorce announcement)

Domestic abuse seems to know no discrimination. And it's not just women who are victims. Men are, too. What is it that makes perpetrators of domestic violence abuse their loved ones? Many claim that they were victims of abuse themselves. I have no insight over this. I don't even know why I'm talking about abuse.

So, thou shalt go click happy. Here are some links, everyone! Click here, here and here (I'll link to an article later, promise)

Happy clicking, bitches! (I'm calling you so only because I sort of like you for reading the crap I've written. If you don't like it, please inform me. That's a hint, you *insert expletive here*, to comment)

Eugenics

"Indians chase Caucasian donors for IVF" blares TOI's headline. I was intrigued. I may chase Caucasians for amorous purposes (though I must admit, I have eyes for my fellow Indians), but would I chase them for their sperm and ova? (Not ova, for obvious reasons. I would chase them for their sperm, if I had to choose between sperms and ova) Sorry, I'm a little too old fashioned for that. I don't even own a designer bag. Designer baby? No, thanks.

If a person isn't able to conceive by the conventional methods, they go for IVF/ fertility treatments. But now, we have future parents dictating whether the sperm/ovum should be fair (or dark), muscular, blue or brown eyed, blonde or brunette. Everyone is in the search for perfection. Perfect kids, perfect bodies. Perfect life? Perfection is such a screwed up thing. It's like walking towards a place at the end of an infinite road, you would never know when you get there if you get there. Sigh. I digress. Again.

The future scares me.As if it wasn't enough that I had to compete with natural beauties and brainiacs, then came surgically enhanced beauties and brainiacs. Now I have to compete with genetically superior beauties and brainiacs? This is deeply depressing. Could you wait a moment while I curl up into a fetal position and cry a little?

Thanks.

But if you flip the issue to the left, there's nothing wrong in choosing how your child will look like. In a way, it is similar to humans finding mates for themselves. You are attracted to, well, attractive people. How many times have you seen an intelligent and handsome guy and thought, "We could make such beautiful and intelligent babies together.(For me, it's usually "Is he rich? Is his grandpa rich?* ")" (Never say that aloud, though. Because that's just weird)

And in this day and age, looks are ridiculously important. Beauties have it much easier. Who doesn't like to be surrounded by beauty and beautiful things? (That's why I have mirrors all over my room *Smirks*) The unconventional looking ones can build character. (Oh, ways to build character, according to Calvin's dad. Here's an example:)













 Or go for surgery.

Oh, that reminds me of this exchange between George Bernard Shaw and Isadora Duncan:
I.D.: Would it not be wonderful if we could have a child who had your brains and my beauty?
G.B.: Yes, but supposing it had your brains and my beauty!

"No, thanks"

"Are you sure, hmm?"

That would be unfortunate. Please don't risk it, GB and ID!
Variations of the quote here.

*That sounded so wrong. I'm not into grandpas, it's just that I'd like to know if the money is inherited or hard earned. Just curiosity. I wouldn't be attracted to a guy because his grandparents are rich. It doesn't matter who left him the money.

9 Ways to be Happy

Remember getting something you really wanted after:

1. Hankering after it.
2. Sleeping with the necessary people.
3. Kissing numerous asses. 
4. Working your butt off for it.

Those were the good days, eh? But that wasn't my point. Remember feeling empty and thinking "This is it? I'll just jump around a little so that nobody around will see that I'm miserable."?

So I chalked up a list (I love lists! A friend compares my lists to bottomless pits. Maybe because they're cylindrical?) of things that make me happy:

1. Lists.
2. Horses.
3. Bumping into a school/ college friend.
4. Delicious clothes.
5. Delicious food.
6. Making delicious food
7. Reading a good book.

It goes on and on. If you want the whole list, gimme your email id and I'll send it to you.

So, steps to be happy:

No rabies. Yay!

1. Accept the truth that nobody's happy all the time. You may be happy for a second when you eat that ice cream, but brain freeze! Moral: Don't eat ice cream in one second.
2. Live in slow motion. Eat slowly, love slowly, and savor the good stuff. Slowly. Exception: when a zombie is after you. Run!
3. Be wrapped up in your own world. Don't let tongues wagging affect you. Exception: If the tongue belongs to a rabid dog. Run!
4. Make a List-of-Things-That-Will-Cheer-Me-Up. If you don't like making lists, get a close friend to make it for you.  If you don't have a close friend, nothing to worry about! (uh oh. Reminds me of this) I'm (almost) always there for you. 
5. Get off your butt and do something physical. Or maybe twiddle your toes now and then. Who doesn't like toned toes? Especially people with a foot fetish, if that's the crowd you want to attract.
6. Be kind to yourself. Forgive yourself for the silly mistakes you've made, inappropriate things you've said or the bloopers you've made. 
7. Don't compare yourself to others. You have your stuff and others have theirs. So if you look like a fish with human attributes on a Facebook photo you were tagged in, don't fret. (Hopefully) others will have fish days too.Unless you're better than others. In that case, gloat and be happy. 
8. Oh, and point 7 reminds me of Facebook envy. Everyone posts their best moments, best pictures and best everything. So try to share in their happiness or don't use Facebook at all.
9. Be kind to others too. Or don't be an asshole. Whichever works.

Peace and Joy!

Farewell to Armadillo.

You know what we need? A 30 second dance party. I think I'd heard it on Grey's Anatomy. And I love popping that at friends who haven't watched and they begin to doubt my sanity. Again. Why is what's normal for me not normal for others? Ah, I can hear cherubs. Momentary enlightenment. It's the reason why what's normal for others isn't normal for me. Cherubs are so whiny. That's why God made them extra cute.

I read about Hemingway and how he was a serial womanizer. He was a bundle of contradictions. I'd always imagined him as a sweet old man with grey, thinning hair and liver spots. And he'd go click- clack on his typewriter, each letter punctuated with wheezes and coughs. He'd have a homey nurse who thought the man was going senile. I never knew he'd be the guy who might pinch the nurse's bum. But I shouldn't be saying all this about him. I haven't met him, I haven't even read his books. Sorry Mr. Hemingway.

I shall read Farewell To Arms as a way of an apology. And the title does make me curious. Farewell to a beautiful woman called Armadillo? Excerpts from a conversation between Armadillo and me:
Armadillo: Friends call me arms. Just call me arms.
Me: Can I call you Dillo?
Armadillo: No.
Me: Dillo is such a cool name. Oh, it reminds me of something. Would you be offended if I tell you what it reminds me of?
Armadillo: Er.
Me: Yes or no? I think I heard "Er".
Armadillo: .......

That was a very short conversation. Huh. Farewell, Arms!

I'm really sorry, Mr. Hemingway.

I'm over thinking this title, so I'll just write some random shit

When I smile, only cuter, and less scaly, and less green

She's grouchy and keeps to herself. Smiles occasionally. With reason, she's not deranged. Er, I mean I'm not deranged. And then I don't look like myself anymore. I look beautiful. Or at least cute. Or presentable. Er.
Have you met people who don't seem to smile at all, and suddenly, they throw a smile your way? Don't they look absolutely resplendent in all their smiling glory? Like a beam of iridescent light shining down from heaven.


 That's why I smile occasionally. Because of Resplendence and/ or Iridescence.

  Smiles, they come in different styles,
  Some short, some they stretch for miles.
  So bare your teeth and at someone grin,
  And smile at strangers, just on a whim.

  Sometimes, I'm cheerful too. Occasionally.

  I'll never misspell "occasionally" ever again.