To be 22.

When you're surrounded by a whole bunch of friends, some old and a lot more who are sparkly new, when your face is smashed into yummy chocolate mousse cake, when you're overwhelmed by the number of people who remember, when you feel the tingling of a new beginning, when you bust your back cleaning the next day with a smile on your face, when you open out your gifts and figure you would have bought them yourself, when you get to work sleep deprived, dreaming of the bed you left behind at home... 22 seems like it can't get better. :)

Thanks everyone, for the wishes, and for just being there.

Fudgilicious!

I'm happy as ever even though my nose is at its runny worst. Fudge, for the uninformed-my dog, is back in action!

The last time I went home it was heartbreaking to learn that Fudge was diagnosed with preliminary arthritis and he also had an enlarged heart. We switched him onto a prescribed diet and he's doing SO much better. :) He's been his usual, frisky self. *touchwood*

A homecoming that was perfect. Sloppy, slobbery perfect.

Happy Birthday to Me?

I love birthdays. I do.

It's that one special day where the world cuts you some slack and lets you celebrate everything that you are. Everything you have become. Everything that you stand for. Everything you truly believe in.

So... what's different this year?

Not very much. I'm still counting the days to the 23rd of July. *Post me something nice people, and by post I mean courier... I want your love to be tangible! :)*

Yet, the times are different. The pressures are something I've not quite faced.

Marriage. I recollect my mother vaguely suggesting the noose would hang post 22.

This is quite a classic 'angel vs devil' storm brewing up inside.

Imagine a flaming red-haired Divya, radar in place, with a fork in her hand, screaming : "Freedom. Gone. Space. Don't think about it. Compatibility. If it don't happen, this is history sister..."

Imagine a peaceful *this WILL take some imagination* Divya, clad in pristine white saying : "Belonging. To wake up each morning and know someone's there. Sharing. Where someone else's joys become your own. And... someone will pay the bills and do the taxes. *I'm all for equal financial footing in the house, just that I can't stand the process.* :)"

Aah... to be four again, and just worry about the colour of your pretty dress and those blue balloons floating, close to the ceiling, just not touching it.

Italia. Woohoo.

For someone who isn't a football fanatic, the FIFA World Cup Final swept me off my feet. I learnt from my 'learned' football friends that this was one of the better finals ever played. All credit to Italy for having brought renewed interest to the games they played, especially post the quarters. France did extremely well too... I must say I felt terrible about Zidane's exit. No player deserves to be shown the door in his last game. 'Dirty Terrorist' or not. For a player of his calibre, you expect him to not give a shit and show who is boss. He might just be remembered as the guy who "butted" his way out of a WC Final and that's not what the script should read. Not now. Not ever. But, life does go on... and Kudos to Italy!

P.S.: God, if you can hear me, please send Toni and Totti home.

Choices.

Heaven on earth is a choice you must make, not a place we must find.

That wise person was right. And how.

I'm driven by instinct. I hardly labour over choices because I often end up choosing the option that satisfies me, first up. The rest remain maybes. As I sit at my desk, to observe and ponder, I wonder why I can't seem to choose happiness.

I wonder why the latest choices I have made (apart from choosing where to work, that's going alright so far...) don't bring a smile to my face. Right now, I think heaven is missing from my options list...