Slap them silly

I am amazed that people see me holding books (that I may or may not be reading) and still ask me.. “How can you read books that are soooo thick?”

I don’t understand whether they mean it in jest.. or are serious. I mean surely, once you have left school (and you profess a love for books), you stop asking this question.. even if you think it?

Maybe in school, when I went to buy books, and had a somewhat limited budget.. I would be particular on the thickness of the book. After all, one wanted more matter to read in the same cost.. But.. never because one size would be too daunting eh?

“Don’t read Shantaram,” she tells me. Wow, how did I manage to find another Shantaram hater I start thinking… and she kills it, “It weighs a ton.”

On another note.. I discovered a dangerous change in my behaviour.. when people start to bore me.. unwittingly my mind switches off.. my eyes glaze over I imagine and I am somewhere else. I actually stop listening to what they are saying. I am amazed that I can do this…and why hadn’t I known it before?

Why we blog..or need to.. or stop altogether

The perpetual debate of why we blog. I was talking to my sister recently who has all but given up on her blog. Nothing to say.. she says and everybody can read it. That has pluses and minuses, I grumble.. since I was the one who encouraged her to blog. I listed ways to curtail information out there.. it doesn’t have to be there for every and any one?  She isn’t convinced .. And I feel bad seeing her blog all abandoned. It feels personal.

Another avid blogger and a friend.. has considerably reduced her blogging.. and when I mention it to her.. she says she has nothing to blog about anymore.. and I wondered.. She has a strong voice on it.. often one that would make her readers think..

Then I came across her.. I could, in some ways, understand why everyone at some point or the other.. chooses to stop blogging.

Link courtesy: Presstalk

The entertainer also known as the feed reader.

From wasting days on Youtube to wondering how the day flew while you decreased the number of unread items on your feed reader (that’s only my quirk I’ve noticed.. I hate having a massive number of unread items whether its mail or feed items) — its tremendous how much time browsing can take up. I’ve consciously started staying from the feed reader at work.. only because its so bloody distracting.

Here is a list of what people browse (via) … another opportunity to allow your feeds to balloon.

Enjoy.

Being proud

Back in the day, of course, everyone know what proper homosexuals looked like, because you saw them on telly all the time. There was John Inman. And Larry Grayson. Nowadays, ask the average person what a Gay man looks like, and expect a welter of answers far removed from the limp-wristed, handbag-swinging stereotype of yore. In fact, let us count some of the reasons why women had thought I was Gay (because I always ask);

Because I shave my head

Because I was having a drink with a mate, who also shaves his head

Because I was dancing with my mates

Because I was wearing a pink shirt

Because I was drinking vodka and cranberry

Because I was ‘really nice’

Because I was smiling all the time

Because I said I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had a fight with anyone

Because I’d spoken to a woman’s mate for ten whole minutes without asking if she was available

Because some game between two Premiership teams I don’t give a monkey’s wank about was on in the room next door, and I wasn’t watching it

Because I looked ‘really happy’

Read the whole post here.

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In the quest to find interesting people, I have a bunch of girlfriends now who are a mix of lesbians and straight women. It’s only when you interact with them on a daily basis, you realise that being gay today is no more the stereotype you would have imagined. They are smart, sexy, independent, successful and proud of their sexuality. I see the movement much more than just an underground, dubious only-available-at-night movement. And reading this post.. I realised how easy it is to transpose our misconceptions.

In this group I can never tell whether I am being hit on.. or it’s just concern. At the same time, I have never felt safer in a room full of bawdy, drunken men.