Why Am I an Occasional Blogger?

I always have a lot to say to people, a lot of things I learn from my world, from my life and from other's life as well. I'd love to let people know all this. That's why I started this Blog at the first place.. But then sadly I started to realize that I'm not just occasional.. I'm Hardly.
Why?

1. I'm the laziest person anybody around me ever knows.
2. When I sit down and start writing something, I stand up and start doing something else.
3. I don't give a damn, if I'm heard or not. Unless I want to make a revolution.
4. I can't make anything a habit so easily, in fact it's impossible. ( except biting nails )
5. I admire bloggers who blog regularly, but it just stop with the inspiration.
6. Back to Numero 1.

A refreshing evening @ Influence!

This is me after an awesome and refreshing thai spa. It was saturday evening and I really felt stressed and irritated. A friend of mine, more than just persuaded me to Influence at the wallace gardens.

Met this girl called 'siri' from Bali, Indonesia. Thin, straight hair and a funny accent, young girl was attending to me. Basically, I loved the place. The mild music, flower decorations and the sounds of the falling water .. Gave a different feel.

She took me to a dark room, I changed into pyjamas and then gave me this nice smooth massage with some melody at the background.It reminded me of my karate classes and my athletic warm ups.

This was certainly less intensive. but 75 minutes I made sure I forgot the world, my fights with people, my confusions and fears of the future. Literally went into a trance and experienced a 'feel good' factor.
After which, she gave me a hot cuppo lemon tea with some honey. :)

Freedom of Speech, at least.

29^th, March, 2011

Every dawn its history echoing,

To step out, my heart is lamenting.

Feel a pang of pain on my shoulders,

Like I have been dragged with boulders.

Unfriendly faces, antagonism at heights,

An abode, I enter where I feel I’m devoid of rights.

Obscurity and darkness cloud my head,

Every day it’s the same, depression unsaid.

Is it the Unintelligent and mindless work?

Or my lack of interest that makes me shirk?

With much exertion I push through my day,

The smell of my home, gives me a happy ray.

But ceaselessly, the morning brings this spasm of pain,

Strips me of my senses and makes me go insane.

Powerful enough to stamp my idiosyncrasy and my ethic,

Alter my temperament and brand me pathetic.

Writhing in inferno, every day in agony

Gasping for happiness, fuck the money.

Hundred better things are plausible, if not for these chains,

Earnestly waiting to be unconstrained of these pains.

Waiting for the day, the last day in these manacles,

The day I fly breaking off these shackles.