The Link-happy Feel-sad Post
I'm morose. That sounds infinitely better than merely depressed, doesn't it? Morose just makes you think of a sad droopy-faced person sitting in a corner. Too lethargic to even cry or weep, this person wallows. And that's how it is with me right now.
*Start of small divertion from subject of post*
By the way, did you know that lugubrious is a synonym for depressed? Well, it is. That, apart from being my contribution to the vocabularies of my 6.5 readers, is also a reason for me to rant in the middle of writing a post as I'm wont to do more often than not. Lugubrious - What kind of a ridiculous word is it? How can it mean depressed? Which self-respecting depressed person will say he's feeling lugubrious and risk being laughed at rather than being comforted? You get what I'm driving at? It sounds exactly like so much garble around a mouthful of paani-puri. Sigh. The English language really needs a clean up soon.
*End of divertion*
The reason for abovementioned moroseness is that I've been reading blogs for the past three hours. Yes. That can be a cause for the gloom. Let me explain. People out there - They're. So. Damn. Good. I needed to say that with the full stops in between because otherwise the pain would be too much. I mean, there's so much talent out there, and with it, so much envy. Envy on my side of course. Yes. I can admit to being envious. I can also admit to resorting to voodoo or some other such magic to interchange myself with people I'm envious of, (and I can do it, beware!) but I will control the impulse because, let's face it, magic is stupid and it doesn't work. I'll just be left with a little doll with a lot of pins stuck into it and no real interchange of lives and talents. I'll still be me with a mutilated doll, and that is something I'm totally unwilling to do. I'm kind. I cannot pin-prick dolls, especially when I know there's nothing in it for me. Mother Teresa, I. Well, ok. Almost.
My favourites' list has grown by 4 today. Now there are 4 more blogs that I'll check with something akin to mania everyday. Of those, I'm extremely jealous of the straight-faced humour ones. Like Finding Franny and Henry the Adequate in my to-read blogs. Read if you're feeling curious enough, though why I'm directing traffic to people who are the cause of my misery I do not know. (I fully blame, I mean attribute the finding of Henry the superhero to MsShadow. Yes, thank you for all of this. I'm sure you're really happy right now.) Also, Anonymous Lawyer... he's quite something.
Then there are those super-intelligent, almost geeky American girls. They're girls. Young females, barely out of their teens and they write about things that make me feel painfully illiterate. Please. How many nineteen year olds study astronomy and excuse me... wha..? What's that? Foreign diplomacy? They teach things like that? Really. What rot. I don't believe it at all. I'm sure they're planted there. I know they're actually 60 year old University professors and have come into all that learning after a lifetime in libraries and are parading as teenagers just to make sundry internet people who mistakenly land onto their blogs feel woefully insecure. Yes. That's it.
Oh and there are... well... the witty people. It's all too much for a person like me to take. I'm sure it's all a huge conspiracy. Can you believe that someone who says something like, 'Today is actually rather ghastly' actually exists? Well, no. She can't. I think she's a highly evolved computer program or something. Seriously, how can she think up such word choices otherwise? And look at her. No one can have that figure, look like that, and have a blog like that. No, it's not fair to humans. She's not real. That's all.
A few days ago I was feeling envious of people who got paid for writing in a magazine or newspaper, and had readable blogs with a huge fan following - like The Compulsive Confessor, to name just one. Now I'm down to envying just about anybody who can write well. Notice the degeneration? See the slipping standards of envy? What next? Am I going to go green about artistic templates now? Blah.
Note that I'm saying nothing of all those blogs that are on my everyday read list but not linked here. (Should I put them up? They're not exactly humour blogs, so I haven't linked them, but they so deserve to be read.)
So, anyway, morose we are. And to think that only a few hours ago we were feeling so good because of the nice comment on the previous post. Yes, he tried. I know. We should be grateful and happy that we're being adored. But, alas, we're being glum. We're also trying to rise above our sad state here by using the royal pronoun in an attempt to diffuse feelings of not being good enough. And we shall overcome, some day.
By the way, why do you think the commentor's called Sad? Verily, in this is a sign for those who give thought...
*Start of small divertion from subject of post*
By the way, did you know that lugubrious is a synonym for depressed? Well, it is. That, apart from being my contribution to the vocabularies of my 6.5 readers, is also a reason for me to rant in the middle of writing a post as I'm wont to do more often than not. Lugubrious - What kind of a ridiculous word is it? How can it mean depressed? Which self-respecting depressed person will say he's feeling lugubrious and risk being laughed at rather than being comforted? You get what I'm driving at? It sounds exactly like so much garble around a mouthful of paani-puri. Sigh. The English language really needs a clean up soon.
*End of divertion*
The reason for abovementioned moroseness is that I've been reading blogs for the past three hours. Yes. That can be a cause for the gloom. Let me explain. People out there - They're. So. Damn. Good. I needed to say that with the full stops in between because otherwise the pain would be too much. I mean, there's so much talent out there, and with it, so much envy. Envy on my side of course. Yes. I can admit to being envious. I can also admit to resorting to voodoo or some other such magic to interchange myself with people I'm envious of, (and I can do it, beware!) but I will control the impulse because, let's face it, magic is stupid and it doesn't work. I'll just be left with a little doll with a lot of pins stuck into it and no real interchange of lives and talents. I'll still be me with a mutilated doll, and that is something I'm totally unwilling to do. I'm kind. I cannot pin-prick dolls, especially when I know there's nothing in it for me. Mother Teresa, I. Well, ok. Almost.
My favourites' list has grown by 4 today. Now there are 4 more blogs that I'll check with something akin to mania everyday. Of those, I'm extremely jealous of the straight-faced humour ones. Like Finding Franny and Henry the Adequate in my to-read blogs. Read if you're feeling curious enough, though why I'm directing traffic to people who are the cause of my misery I do not know. (I fully blame, I mean attribute the finding of Henry the superhero to MsShadow. Yes, thank you for all of this. I'm sure you're really happy right now.) Also, Anonymous Lawyer... he's quite something.
Then there are those super-intelligent, almost geeky American girls. They're girls. Young females, barely out of their teens and they write about things that make me feel painfully illiterate. Please. How many nineteen year olds study astronomy and excuse me... wha..? What's that? Foreign diplomacy? They teach things like that? Really. What rot. I don't believe it at all. I'm sure they're planted there. I know they're actually 60 year old University professors and have come into all that learning after a lifetime in libraries and are parading as teenagers just to make sundry internet people who mistakenly land onto their blogs feel woefully insecure. Yes. That's it.
Oh and there are... well... the witty people. It's all too much for a person like me to take. I'm sure it's all a huge conspiracy. Can you believe that someone who says something like, 'Today is actually rather ghastly' actually exists? Well, no. She can't. I think she's a highly evolved computer program or something. Seriously, how can she think up such word choices otherwise? And look at her. No one can have that figure, look like that, and have a blog like that. No, it's not fair to humans. She's not real. That's all.
A few days ago I was feeling envious of people who got paid for writing in a magazine or newspaper, and had readable blogs with a huge fan following - like The Compulsive Confessor, to name just one. Now I'm down to envying just about anybody who can write well. Notice the degeneration? See the slipping standards of envy? What next? Am I going to go green about artistic templates now? Blah.
Note that I'm saying nothing of all those blogs that are on my everyday read list but not linked here. (Should I put them up? They're not exactly humour blogs, so I haven't linked them, but they so deserve to be read.)
So, anyway, morose we are. And to think that only a few hours ago we were feeling so good because of the nice comment on the previous post. Yes, he tried. I know. We should be grateful and happy that we're being adored. But, alas, we're being glum. We're also trying to rise above our sad state here by using the royal pronoun in an attempt to diffuse feelings of not being good enough. And we shall overcome, some day.
By the way, why do you think the commentor's called Sad? Verily, in this is a sign for those who give thought...
posted by Aran at 4:27 PM
20 Comments:
What a killer post.
:)
I'm positively green with envy.
You're being too kind. :)
oh and i didnt make your list :(
the heartbreak of it all...
You're among the ones who were not mentioned. See the third to last paragraph. :)
oh, the joy.
:)
Yes yes, I know. Too much, isn't it?! :)
Btw, I think I've possibly killed my other commentors or something. I mean, they were here till very recently, and now... you think I've lost them to the various links in that post? Oh, the horror! Will they ever be mine again?
Oh, no, word verification. You do realize I'm going to have to submit this at least six times before I get that right, don't you?
Anyway I am pleased that you enjoyed my weblog, and thank you for the link. I am always surprised when I find somebody that actually reads Henry. Though I've only read a few posts so far, I think your work is pretty good.
I cannot handle the bots. I do not need new hair products, toy aeroplane-making kits or vaginal creams thank you very much. Everyone cannot be Henry, as you must be knowing.
The aforemetioned bots made me feel suicidal too. To think that my only comments were coming from non-people... it was agony - the blackest depression there is. Thus, the word verification came into being and the world was a better place.
I love Henry. I think it's hard not to. Ahem. Are we indulging in mutual adoration? If so, yay!
Something like that :)
Just think of the bots as a really obnoxious commenter that you are completely free to swear at, abuse, threaten, and parody. Works for me.
I had comment moderation turned on and after a while the bots just stopped hitting me, so now I've disabled that too. But still my little bot friends have not returned. Sigh.
Of course it works for you. You're alter-Henry. And that has to be special.
You want bots? I can be your bot. *bats eyelashes* I can do that for you. Really. No, no. No trouble. :D
Um, no thanks. That would be too weird. A person pretending to be a bot pretending to be a person. :)
Sigh. Of lost opportunities and a lingering sadness.
Good dog, you got link happy! You are a great writer in your own right, do not fret. And I didn't see this till today cause ... I dunno. But thanks for the link. I'm afraid to click on the other links, cause dammit, I'm addicted enough to reading blogs.
Hehehe. Thank you. And it's not fair. Considering the fact that you led me to Henry the Adequate, I thought the least you could do was to click on a couple of those links. Are my links not good enough for you? Is that it, huh?!
Been long since I checked this space. Actually, been long since I checked any space worth the diskspace it occupies. Aran, what can I say? If it were not for you my vocabulary would never be where it is today.
That said, this virtual petting business has to be analysed. Did your mom never let you have a dog of your own? And has that caused some deep-rooted neurological pathways to develop haphazardly, which resulted in the sheer demented perception of reality that you have?
Scripto, now that you've asked. Yes. I never did have a dog of my own. But what's wrong with my preceptions, reality, etcetera? Don't you think Firefly's cuter than any dog I could ever have had?
And you really wound me. I thought that you check this space compulsively morning and evening, at least twice per day, but here you tell me that you haven't been here in days. Sigh. What else must I do?!
Aran, my dear. You know why I could not check this space. I was wandering all over in the mountains. Otherwise not a waking hour goes by when I do not check your space.
Ah yes. The mountain wandering that I didn't know about until after it was over.
Now all I need is a Twigrl.
Aran, if it makes you feel any better, even Twigrl did not know. No one knew. I just went and wandered in the mountains with the intention of never coming down. Your blog brought me back.
Yes, that does make me feel better. I think my work on Earth is done.
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