Let’s Rule it… Rule it.

I think I am jinxed!
When I go out of town, and wifey and Mom are home alone, I come back to find that they aren’t speaking with each other. When I switch on the TV to watch news after a week, I learn that America is left with not one candidate they want to really truly vote for in the coming elections. When I eat out and return home after dinner, I realize that wifey had made my favorite chhole-bhature for dinner, and when I decide to ditch the office party and arrive home in time for dinner, I end up shoveling down khichhadi!
So when I returned to Blogger’s World this morning (baited by Colette’s post,) I wasn’t surprised. It appears that the jinx is still strong for I once again see locked horns amidst clouds of steam rising from some heated discussions.
The point is – can we have a quick discussion on the rules of posting to the forum? Which are rules that we find most irksome? If each of us could list the rules we dislike, we could statistically come up with a list of, say, five rules that the majority wants to follow. As they would be OUR rules, conformance should improve (fingers-crossed, we never know with the Anandhotep-Types,) and we would feel more relaxed, posting, commenting, or even snapping at the heels of one-another.
Those among you who want to pack me up in a holdall and shunt me off to another galaxy would be glad to know that Mom and wifey would thank you for it, and even pay the price of the holdall.
@colettebates @ishitarc1908 @21timetraveler @darshith0000 @devilrockz @empress2inspire @fictionalkevin @himadas @lulaharp @onetarhayes @kristinavanhoos @koolitzable @mumbletymuse @myusername432 @oliveole @piyushavir @ramida78 @sumitagrawal01 @sandeept252 @sarahsatticoftreasures @wynstep
This post is for all the members to comment upon…but I am tagging only the member I know personally and I trust that they’ll excuse my temerity.


April 7th, Thursday E.O.D. was my deadline for posting on Blogger’s World and it made me not just anxious but also curious. Curious about deadlines. Odd, useless questions such as: why deadlines are called deadlines, when did the term first find its way into our vocabulary, why deadlines have this deadly streak, began to raise their bald and spotty heads.

Since morning, I had been plagued by the need to meet the deadline. Having missed two already, this might be my last chance to redeem myself in the eyes of the admins and the members of Blogger’s World, I thought for the umpteenth time this afternoon; even right before slipping into my siesta. But the siesta was marred with terrible and dark dreams of the forum moderators running after me, practicing their shoe-hurling skills with the passion and aggression of those possessed.

So you see, until this evening, I had no idea what I would be writing about, until inspiration struck, and I decided to torment my tormentor. I decided to unearth the truth about deadlines. Truth be told, the truth was as boring as I had expected it to be – and you can read it here.

When I didn’t find anything inspiring in the history of deadlines, I tried deadline quotes, and found most of them to be as lifeless as the term itself. Here are two samples.

A deadline is negative inspiration. Still, it’s better than no inspiration at all. – Rita Mae Brown

I would never finish a painting if I didn’t have a deadline. – Peter Doig

While I agree with both the quotes, they didn’t help me warm up toward deadlines. So I turned inward, and decided to take the line apart.

A deadline is a dead line. A line that has no life of its own, and so it sucks the life out of our lives. In other words, a deadline is a sickly looking vampire that feeds upon our happiness and leaves us listless and weak. A deadline is also the line that is drawn at that point in the space of time (!) after which we are contextually dead. And it’s this knowledge that makes us run hard – so that we are able to catapult ourselves across it while there still is time! We don’t care whether we hurt ourselves in the process, or become ill; because if we don’t, we end up dead.

Anandhotep, who has been dead for a while, believes that deadlines are for weak-spirited mortals such as yours truly, because we can’t see that these lines are figments of our imagination – we believe that they are real, and the mirage holds us captive until we die, and this post proves it.


Three Types of Never Never First-time Comments!

Put it down to my severely depressed state of mind (if my mind were a mattress, it would be so depressed that if allowed yourself to drop on it, you’d crack a bone,) but I am feeling crabbier than a crab today. And yet, to keep my word, I must make a post. So prepare yourselves, ladies and gentlemen, for today I am going to list three first-time comments that held me from pressing the Approve button.

Producing them in disguise. This isn’t to make them feel bad, should they happen to chance upon these, but for new commenters, to help them avoid such commenting bloopers.

Weird First Comment 1:

Hey there Anand! I was just browsing around the blogosphere, trying to discover some interesting blogs to follow to make some new friends in the New Year.

Why not hop on over to my world at http://theGreatestBlogByTheGreatestBloggerInTheWorld.whatWasThatOhWordPress.theComelyOne. I’ve got a feeling you’d like it there, so if you like anything just comment or follow!

If I had to respond…

Hey there, greatest blogger in the world! Thanks for stopping by. I am floored by the honor you’ve bestowed upon me. I bend my knee and I kiss the helm of your cloak. I am sure I’d like your blog if i visited, but your comment has made me decide against it. I have a feeling that if I visited, your royal guard will seize me and throw me into one of your dungeons, and I won’t be freed until I commented and followed.


Weird First Comment 2:

Hey Anand! You’ve got a nice blog. I think you are a programmer. Where do you work? Do you telecommute, freelance, or have a day job. Don’t mind but I’d like to know if you program for the love of programming or because it helps you put food on the table.

Before you jump to conclusions, I must tell you that I am not stalking you. I’ve got a close friend who believes that programming is a difficult and demanding field. I am trying help her out by finding other alternatives for her. If you aren’t comfortable giving me all this information here, send me an email at: writeToMeAtThisIDifYouAreUncomfortable@GolmaalEmail.theComelyOne

If I had to respond…

Hey back, Ms. Paparazzi,

You think right. I am indeed a programmer. But I don’t confess my motivations to passersby. Had we known each other through a few more visits to each-others blogs, I would’ve definitely answered your questions that you have asked on behalf of your harassed friend.

I must commend you on ability to empathize. You correctly surmised that I won’t be comfortable giving you the information. Period. And in fact, I’d be even more uncomfortable giving you the information on email, because I might be stepping into a whirlpool of questions and answers, and never return.

Weird First Comment 3:

Anand, man. Some cool caricatures you make. So you draw them because you like drawing them right. Will you help me by making one for me. Me and my girlfriend – just plain ones. Can’t pay for it now, so anything you can make. I am sure, you’ll have a lot of fun doing it! Once again, man. Keep up the good work. Send me an email at iWantFreeCoolCaricatures@GolmaalEmail.theComelyOne

If I had to respond…

Visitor, man. One of the options that Ms. Paparazzi gave me was that I must do all this stuff to put food on the table. I am sure you and your girlfriend look like you’ve just stepped out of a fairy tale, but even then, working for a fee that could help me take wifey out for dinner would make me happier.

I will try to keep up the good work, but making just plain caricatures would be a step in the wrong direction. So to follow your advice, I must decline to accept your order for free caricatures.

So that’s that. The Snarky of the Quirky, Snarky, Malarkey rules my stars today.


Important Note: These comments weren’t made by any of you, so don’t let this post give you sleepless nights.

Quirky Anand and those…those…Snarky Grammarians!

I’m not in love with Grammarians and their devices. Not that I don’t respect them – but you see, respect and love are not the same thing. You can respect someone who makes your teeth chatter and your heart lose its rhythm. Grammarians do that to me. Their presence puts me on high alert. They make me check the teeth of my writing half a dozen times for that ugly edit error caught between them, sticking out its tongue at me; they drive me to reflect upon the fingernails of my content about as many times for an extra apostrophe or a missing comma, that could make me the butt of a Grammarian’s joke.

To snip the long tail of a long yarn short, I respect the Grammarians of the world because of their ability to make me experience performance anxiety. If I were a stand up comedian or a talk show host, they would send jitters up my spine, make me stutter, and forget my lines.

And what makes matters worse is the fact that the presence of Grammarians makes my wild errors go wilder. The disappearing commas that had no malice before, find a purpose in life, and my grammatical errors transform into the split-in-the-knickers variety. Remember the guy who sent a note to his boss congratulating his boss on his promotion – the note that said, “I offer you my wife and my heartiest congratulations!” That’s the kind of errors that chase me down, when an editor is in the vicinity.

While an apostrophe that’s misplaced innocently merely adds an ungainly scratch to your reputation, a comma that’s gone rogue on purpose can change the very definition of your life. Here’s a recent example of a apostrophe and his twin who conspired to destroy my life. When answering a comment on an Interview post at Arpita Pramanick’s blog, I happened to say, “My dying wish would be to be born in a world sans wifey and mom supporters!”

I don’t want to paint a picture of the carnage that could’ve ensued had the comment made its way to wifey’s computer (and I often blog using hers, so I am talking about a very real, a very dangerous possibility here.)

This is what performance anxiety does to well-meaning simpletons like me. So when Rashmi asked me to make a post on this forum – I got my usual edit-jitters, and I tried to wiggle out of the assignment. But she along with Meg’s “that feisty Piyusha” made me pump up my writing muscles and go for it! I did, and here I am writing a potentially explosive post. I must be masochist to write something addresses those who could make me slink into the shadows of obscurity once again – I’m lighting a fire right under the seat of their pants. (I must’ve gone soft in the head – all those edit-checks must’ve imbued into me a pathological longing to be bludgeoned into grammatical submission, or why would I attempt this blogging harakiri?)

The same fear stops me from leaving a link to the QSM Magazine here, but if you visited my blog, you’d see it plastered all over. I invite you to pick up the latest issue because in it you will find a true-to-life shot of our feisty Piyusha’s prospective groom, who I happen to meet just yesterday. If you haven’t read about my meeting with Piyusha’s alien suitor, please head over to her blog, read about it, and give the couple your blessings. I trust I am veering off from the prescribed course, I might be rapped on my knuckles by the moderators.

(Anandhotep: Now your work here is done. Go back to your tomb, get inside the sarcophagus, open your coffin and go to bed! Rashmi will pay your airfare!)

Apologies to the following members for dragging their fine names through this murky post.
@piyushavir @sashay909