Dear Mr. Postman

Yesterday was Sunday. I missed you. So here is a rundown of things from today and yesterday:

People don’t really like their 25th birthdays for some odd reason.

Potterheads are some of the most passionate people I have seen.

Dunkin’ Donuts French Vanilla Iced Coffee is a hidden gem (shh.. you’re welcome)

I frankly donut (geddit ^) have the strength or time to get into a new show anymore. 

I should really start reading again.

I learned that when dogs are happy, they wag their tails to the right.

Also, I should REALLY memorize my mom’s cell number. 

Did you know that my neighbours have an excellent taste in everything?! So maybe, next time you could just.. nvm


I can’t wait for you to be back tomorrow (hopefully with some parcels for me). I do realise I have been nothing but selfish in this post, so how about an icy lemonade tomorrow afternoon?

You guys can come along too. Shh..


From top of the hill

The weather is fairly pleasant right now. Clear skies, a light breeze, and an Irish tune to listen to. Hurroo Hurroo

Odds on me wasting the remainder of the day?

But who knows, I might just end up doing something productive. Till then, I’ll look for some youtube videos to cheer me up from this depressing song. Hurroo Hurroo!

*Searches for more gloomy songs* Yeah, just two more… I promise

A blanket of stars

I ended up taking philosophy this semester, and for some odd reason, I find myself constantly wondering and picturing the lives of those around me. The odd part being that I feel as if I have some sort of an emotional attachment to them. Like I am part of their lives or rather, that they are part of mine. Not just people, though, it’s all these places that have been marked by countless memories; both joyful and tragic ones.

Some weeks back, I was sitting in my car (unsurprisingly), just waiting in the parking lot. Two parking spaces right to me was a young woman who had her head bent down on the steering wheel, it took me two full minutes to realise that she was crying her heart out, right there. Across from us, were these fleet of police cars and ambulances, and right in the middle, was a heavy bike which had clearly been involved in a horrible accident. Every now and then, she would pause to glance at the scene. It broke my heart to see her this way, and I wanted nothing more than to go and tell her, that everything was going to be okay, and that he was going to make it.

The rest of that day was a blur.

I love when people unite together for whatever good cause they might end up doing. I love when a person finds good from a huge pool of malice and spite. I love when a person guides another person, instead of judging and forcing his/her thoughts on them.  Weird world this.

We want to lie on the grass unburnt;
Just breathe our way through life;
Underneath this glorious blanket of stars;
So we can stand tall, even after midnight.

We are constantly trying to improve ourselves in the hope that someday, we will be good enough for ourselves and for everyone else too. Sometimes, it does work out nicely.

A spur

“Does this disappoint you?”, she inquired of him.

He took one glance at the object in her hands and all he could muster was,”No. Not anymore. My heart is filled with songs of another.”



Falafels and Airport struggles

Right. So a very dear friend of mine suggested that I look and maybe even write about the positive things in my life. So that is exactly what I decided to do this week. After all, it was spring break, so I didn’t really have much better things to do except binge-watch the new season of Daredevil (which I still haven’t gotten around to). Anywho rewinding back to…


I was dropping off my mother’s friend and her (oh so playful) children, at the airport. We made our way to the Southwest counter to check in the baggage. So a little background on her luggage; it consisted of three cartons, three large suitcases, a hand carry, a stroller, a couple of handbags and a basketball. Next came the weighing part, and I kid you not, every single one of the boxes was exactly 2 pounds over the 50-pound set limit.

At this point, I was exhausted from the lack of sleep, the headache and the constant noise that surrounded me. Did I mention it was 6:30 a.m?
No way I was going to let her pay $225 ($75 per overweight piece) for 6 measly pounds in excess. Luckily for us, the suitcases were ‘eligible’ to transfer that excess load to. The only trouble was, now we had to snip open each and every one of the well packaged cartons, transfer the stuff to the suitcases, and re-package them cartons. Then entered Ellie (the Southwest staff member) and I swear to you if I was in her position I would firstly, would be irritated (frikking early in the day to deal with such inconviences) and secondly would do as much as possible to stay away from the situation that we had gotten ourselves in. But god bless Ellie, she had a scissor and a tape, and she could easily have handed it over to me, yet she did not. She literally took the scissors & snipped open all of the three boxes, and then assisted in re-taping all of them too, without so much as a sigh. By the end of it, she was still giving that warm cheerful smile and I could not stop myself from thanking her enough.

Oh, it is safe to say that I was in fine spirits on the ride back home and even stopped to pick up a mediterranean breakfast for the family. I mean how could you go wrong with: Hummus, falafel, foul, shawerma and of course seekh kebab sandwiches. All in all, not a bad day (that is excluding the match loss to New Zeland, which I still don’t want to talk about).



Pro tip: Always, always, make sure that your luggage isn’t in excess when travelling, or just pray that you end up getting someone like Ellie.

P.S. I realise this post isn’t giving a completely optimistic vibe, but I swear I’m trying.

Note to self: Stop swearing so much.



The Purple Pen

The Purple Pen

This journey couldn’t get any longer thought Pain. He picked up the crossword from the table and scanned it, it was ink free, he had yet to complete even a single one. He sighed as he put the paper back down.

Note to self Pain, If your great grand aunt tells you that she has been feeling down lately, you send her some flowers or something, but what you do not do is buy a ticket and board on the next train that leaves, to go and visit her.

He let out his  inner anguish and decided to shut off his eyes. Maybe he could sleep the whole journey through, maybe sleep could do something his coffee couldn’t, make his headache disappear. No soon had he closed his eyes, his nose became acute to a rather displeasing odor coming it’s way. He opened his eyes, and looked around annoyed, searching for the source of this vile smell. And they found the perpetrator, the young toddler resting in his mother’s arms and what’s more Pain could swear the young devil had a smirk on his face. In disbelief he closed off his eyes and attempted again to sleep. But now another thought came into his mind, the writing on the note he had found. He opened his eyes once more and took out the note he had in his pocket. There were only three words on it, “down the road” written with an ink that looked like purple.

First of all who would write those three words and just leave the note behind. Secondly the purple pen? Never in his life had he seen someone use a purple pen. And lastly what did it mean? Down what road? Was it a lyric to some song or was it to be used as reminder for something? Okay Pain, get a frikking grip. Why did he even pick the note in the first place, but he knew the answer to that. He needed change in his life, and in that moment that piece of paper gave him some vague hope, and he snatched at it. What was he doing with his life? He just shook his head and shut his for the third time.


“Hey, Hey!”

“Wha-?”, Pain saw a woman standing in front of him as his eyes adjusted.

“You’re drooling” she sniggered. “Here”, she said offering him a tissue.

“Thanks. Did you wake me to tell that I was drooling?”, he shot right back.

“Well that, and to take what is mine.”, she replied waving the note at him. “Why do you have this?”, she questioned almost accusingly.

“Oh, umm.. I found that just lying there on my coffee table, I liked it so I kept it. You know how it goes, finders keepers and whatnot”.

“Is that the best you can come up with? Are you four?”, she indulged sitting right across from him.

“In my defense, you did just wake me up. I need to have my beauty rest before I can come up with good excuses. What was with the note though?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”, she said with a smirk.

“You’re weird.”

“No, I’m Moody.”

“You’re what?”, he asked confused.

“My name is Moody. Blaire Moody. Gets them every time”, she said clearly enjoying herself.

“Well it definitely suits you. I’m Pippin Reardon but people call me Pip or Pain.”

She let out a laugh. “No way! So Pain Reardon? That must sit really well with the ladies”, she remarked with mirth. “Any who, where are you travelling to? No, wait, let me guess, Cuthbert?”

“Actually no. I’m on my way to Albany. Great Aunt feels sad and the great niece is swooping in to be the hero.”

“There is a great pun in there somewhere” she said smugly.

He paused to take a look at her. She looked in her mid twenties, wore a flowing blue dress with an even deeper shade of blue for a shawl. Her short brunette hair matched her eyes and her jet black kitten heels.

“Are you this free with everyone or am I just the exception?”, Pain inquired with a playful tease in his voice.

“Oh, don’t kid yourself. My new year’s resolutions for this year were, one, that I would be more socially active, and two, that I would stop lying or at least try very hard to do so.”

“So you have stopped lying since this year?


“Okay. Lets start with something basic, like, what is your age?”

“Twenty one.”

“I pegged you in your late twenties. Moving on, what is your greatest fear?”

“That escalated quickly. Hmm, getting pushed off a huge cliff by some animal, probably a baboon.”

“That is so unusual! But yes, I suppose that would be just terrifying. Are we single?”, he inquired almost raising his eyebrow.

“Well yes, I am.”, she said with no hesitancy in her voice.

“Cats or Dogs?”

“Only puppies.”

“Would you rather live with only one arm or only listen to one song for the rest of your life?”

“Oh, definitely live with one arm. Also how cool would it be to flip off people with your whole arm? Now that I think about it, it might not work so flawlessly.”

“Yeah, just stick to your fingers for now, Moody.”

She gave a wry smile and proceeded to hunt in her purse for something. Moments later her hands contained a small brown leather strapped diary and a purple pen.

At last. The purple pen.

“What is that?”, inquired Pain, his curiosity giving way.

“The most precious thing to me. Meet Emma. I share everything that is important to me or worth remembering, to her. There is nothing that Emma does not know about dear old Blaire.”

Pain just paused a second before claiming, “Excellent! Me and Emma should get acquainted real soon then and discuss the lady in question”.

“Oh, that won’t be happening anytime soon. Emma is quite reserved you see? She only ever talks to me.”, replied Blaire and started scribbling what looked like ‘notes of description’ to Pain, in an acerbic manner.

Pain wanted nothing more than to know what she was jotting down ever so quickly, but he feared his eagerness might be interpreted as neediness. So he decided to wait.

And then wait some more.


A Class of Two

“Conceptually, the real trick to lying is to make the person believe. No matter what the context of the lie is, unless you can’t make them believe, it’s useless. If I were to tell you now, that I’m a man stuck in a woman’s body, would you believe me? Of course not! Well, maybe after you have a couple of drinks in you. *chuckles filled the classroom* The point is, that you need to distinguish between logic and actuality. Now I have got a question for you; do you think manipulation is the same as lying?

“Yes”, she said, as the professor pointed to the girl who had just raised her hand.

“I think lying, while not being exactly the same as manipulation, is an important principle of it. It could serve as the foundation at the very least.”

“Very good. Now, do you think one could be co-dependent of the other?”

“To some extent, yes. They are not exactly mutually exclusive, nor are they exactly inherently inclusive, but they belong to the gray region.”

“Thank you. I think what Miss Spencer here is trying to say, is that they are coherent to each other. One cannot be.. “

But now the words of Professor Reese were broken off in the distance. He was distracted by the girl who had just answered the question. Why had he never noticed her before? And yet somehow she must have had made a prior impression on the Professor; what else could explain her remembering the name.

He looked around. None of the other students were paying any attention; half of them had their phones out, and the rest of them were doodling around; the exception to that was Ms. Spencer of course. Spencer, Spencer, he knew he had heard that name before; he just couldn’t remember where. How on earth did he get here? He needed to hear the pitter patter of the raindrops, he needed to get his shit together, but most of all he needed to get out of that class right then.

Pitter patter, and a glorious tune to listen to. That is all he wanted. 

He could have been in a thousand other places, but no, he was stuck here listening to some bag give a lecture about honesty and lies and whatnot. Lying; like he needed a class on that subject. If anything, he could deliver one hell of a lecture on it, and one that students would actually give a damn about. Still, it got him thinking how cool would it be to manipulate a person at will. Exercise control over men and women alike, bid them to do all his dirty little work. Power could never be overrated he thought.  

He cursed John for not being there with him in that class. “Stupid hangovers”, he mumbled to himself.  

He looked around again, his eyes darting back again, to the girl with the dark brown hair. She just sat there with the lower half of her pony tied hair in her hands, just staring at the split ends. What an odd little thing to do, he wondered quietly. And that was his initial impression of Bess Spencer; odd.