Theandric Thursday # 9: Las Ventanas

Theandric Thursday is a used to be a fortnightly feature on my blog (now it'll just be whenever I have the time and mind!), where I'll be having fun with putting down those weird thoughts and stories that occupy my mind most of the times. The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of the divine and human nature'.

If you're interested in participating, write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop your link in the comments section. Feel free to write reality, part-reality-part-fiction or fiction, anything above the 'normality' of our world. ;) You can use the above picture on your post and link back to this post.

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November 9, 2015

Bilbao, Spain

I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be caught dead in a 19^th century gown, however classy it looked on me, the likes of which I seemed to have on my body. Neither would I have been yielding a golden bow and arrow, which I found in my hands. As for the mesmerizing landscape that treated my eyes as I looked on, I would love to be found dead there! Wait...... what? Weirdness alert! I shook my head to shake off the ghastly image that had begun to form in my head (over-active imagination has its faults) and as I did, the scene began to fade and swirl and my head did not know where it was as it stayed in that moment of being halfway between sleepiness and wakefulness.

Floating in that territory, as I tried to get back to being awake, I was forced to stop as I heard a soft whisper right next to my ears. ‘Aarrteemissss??’ it spoke, as slithery and scary as a snake. An image floated in front of my eyes: a hazy mess of hair sitting on top of a roundish face with clear, hazel eyes, a sharp nose and a goatee.

*Singing Radiohead at the top of my lungs...* boomed Avril Lavigne from the speakers of my cell-phone as the morning alarm went off and I woke up with a start. Shutting my eyes close and concentrating, I tried to remember what it was like..... the dream.....the man with the hazel eyes. I had to give up soon after. Recalling dreams was getting much more difficult these days.

I got up, dressed myself in a Capri, sneakers and a tee declaring me as an alumnus of Hogwarts and leaving the bed unmade, went out towards the dining hall of our own little ‘palace’. I actually hated the word ‘palace’, which is what they called it. For one, it was smaller than any of those palaces I had seen on my tours to different places in India and two, I wasn’t very happy being a “royal”, however royal it sounded. It was too constricting for my liking. But anyhow, I was a princess. Kind of.

And I loved my parents very much. They sat at the table, getting breakfast served, looking as elegant as royals should be. Hugging them and exchanging Buenos dias, I gulped down my breakfast, listening to their plans for the day. I had pretty much decided to stay back at the house (no palaces for me) and work on my book, not having much of an idea of the kind of deals my parents struck anyway.

Hours later, having spent the better part of the morning typing, pausing, re-writing and plotting details, I reached a saturation point and looked up from the desk, staring ahead through the window into the pretty lawns and old willow trees adorning the back of the house. It was difficult to write as I kept getting distracted, going back and forth to the strange dream. It was when I was wondering if I should just call it quits, that I saw a blur of colour crossing one tree to the next. I stood up and stared through the window. No movement at all.

‘Carlisle!’ I called out through the intercom and a minute later, a well-groomed man in his late forties stood at the door, doing a quick curtsy, knowing pretty much how I disliked it, and waited.

‘Miss Artsy?’

Waving it off with a gesture, I said, ‘Just Artsy. I think I saw an intruder in the back lawns. Would you ask the guards to check?’

‘An intruder? But the security’s top-notch! I can bet........’

‘Carlisle? I saw someone. Hiding behind the willow trees. A man if I’m not wrong. And a very rainbow man at that.’

I thought I had Carlisle at that. He seemed about to say something but then stopped mid-word. ‘Rainbow?’ He whispered tersely.

‘Well? Is he a well-known kidnapper or something? Should we be scared? Shall I alert the security? Carlisle?’

By then I was beginning to panic. This so wasn’t Carlisle’s style. He was perfection. Always calm and in his mind, which was something I’d begun to doubt. He was muttering to himself, ’Is it time already? Oh dear, time flies! She’s just a young girl!’

I shook Carlisle by the shoulders, wishing I’d just gone off with my parents. He stared at me, mouth slightly open. ‘Miss Artsy, I’m sorry,’ he started backing away, strength returning in his voice. ‘I just have this strange...err...condition where I get flashbacks of my past.’ He seemed visibly upset and I tried consoling him. ‘Do you want some water? And it’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. Is there any medication for it?’

Carlisle’s expression was intense, one of those seemingly sad ones, who’ve tried getting away from situations but realized that some things are just futile. ‘Ahh.. no there isn’t. The past has strange ways of haunting us. It takes a lot of bravery to ignore its attempts at ruining our present. We constantly need to be at our toes and if it indeed attacks us, we should be strong enough to go back, fight and finish off the root cause once and for all.’

Needless to say, it was getting weird. The dude turned from curtsy-loving to panicky to philosophical. And we might as well be having a kidnapper already inside the house. ‘It’s okay Carlisle. I’m sure we could be brave. The first proof of which could be alerting the guards and checking around?’

‘Oh yes. Artsy, you stay here alright? Just in case. I’ll look at the disturbance and let you know the progress. Stay near the phone, okay?’

‘Yeah, alright. Be careful Carlisle,’ I said as he closed the door behind him.

Of course I couldn’t stay inside a closed room while everyone was apparently, looking for an intruder. This was my house, after all. Snatching up my sling bag and cell phone, I made my way out to the hallway, carefully peeping around corners.

I’d been wandering for about 20 minutes now, looking into rooms and getting distracted by all the beautiful artworks that adorned every corner. No wonder they called me Artsy. I loved such stuff! Although my real name on paper was Diana, hardly anyone ever called me that. I was on to the fourth floor corridor now, someplace I hadn’t stayed for long ever in my life and now that I came to think of it, I never did get a chance to snoop around there. This palace was more like a holiday home, a place to spend the summers. We lived in India for most of the year.

This floor was musty, the corridor narrower than usual and walls filled with a huge tapestry and in the centre, a single room. I remembered hiding there once as a kid while playing Hide & Seek but no more than that. The tapestry must be ancient, I thought, for it was inscribed with hieroglyphs instead of the usual painting. I tried the door of the room to find that it opened easily, a pool of clear carpet in the dust, almost as if.............. as if someone had recently been here!

My heart started beating fast, signalling the very high probability that I was in danger. However, I was just greeted by silence. There was no sound and no soul seemed to exist except me. For good measure, I checked out the room completely, being as brave as to look beneath the bed and inside the wardrobe. The room was dark and I couldn’t find the light switch, so I moved towards the heavy drapes covering the windows and pulled them aside. Light flooded the room and I had to shield my eyes from the glare of the sun.

I had serious misgivings about the weather here. But then maybe the room had been closed up for far too long. I went to the left and pulled down the string for the drape to open completely and as it did, a painting hanging on the window towards the right came into sight. Looking at the huge window and the painting on it, I had a brief moment of déjà vu as I realized that I’ve been here before. Things seemed to have numbed by now, the light not as harsh and the silence deeper than it was. Back when I’d been a six year old, hiding in this room waiting for my brother to seek me out, I’d seen this window. Carlisle had sought me out, looking rather testy for his usual manner and murmured, Nunca acercarse a las ventanas! Nunca!

¿Qué? I had spoken in my high-pitched voice.

‘Shh! Miss Artsy, you no come here. Okay?’ Carlisle pointed towards the windows. ‘Those are THE windows. Las ventanas. Don’t come here before the time is right. Now go on... go play,’ and he pushed me out of the room and locked it up.

Now, 12 years later when I sensed the familiarity, it wasn’t all nostalgic, for the last time I’d been warned against the windows. It didn’t make much sense though. What would the windows do? They were probably too high up and Carlisle had imagined me falling off through them, I thought. Walking towards them, I saw that they were indeed quite precarious, as there wasn’t any balcony out there. I turned to study the painting more closely.

It had a beautiful landscape, ending in a cliff overlooking a ditch perhaps, with thick trees in the foreground surrounding a streaming river. In the background, just near the tip of the cliff, stood a young maiden, her back turned. She had long black hair, tied in a thick braid and decorated with a tiara of white flowers. Her body had on a very light blue full length gown and she seemed to have been standing there in a rigid, alert posture, like she’s been on a lookout since forever. I hadn’t noticed myself getting closer to the picture, but I couldn’t have helped it anyway. It was a mesmerizing.... and a somewhat familiar scene.

My fingertips touched the painted maiden and I jerked back in shock as the painting started swirling around in spirals, getting hazier. Just as it had started, it stopped all of a sudden and heart pounding, unable to move, I stared as the girl walked towards the forefront, towards me, the rest of the scene completely still. She walked with purpose, her dress slightly blowing in a wind I could not see. In her hands she held a golden bow and arrow and something like a helmet.

Ever heard of that expression, ‘she stood with her mouth hanging open’? That’s what I must have looked like as I saw the girl and a rush of memories, dreams and words flooded my head, incapacitating me to do anything.

Alpheus! Artemis! Orion! Bay of Biscay! War! Dive! Run! Las Ventanas!

As the young girl now stood in the painting, staring at me with a wistful expression, I found it hard to believe I’d ever see myself looking like that. She seemed full of scorn, with my face sitting on top of her weird historical dress, hands on her hips as she mouthed her first words to me. ‘You Saumensch!’

... to be continued.

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*Las Ventanas: "The Windows" in Spanish
Nunca acercarse a las ventanas: Never come near the windows

Y’know it really feels good to have written a TT story after so long. It’s never the kind of perfect I want to get to someday, but whenever I start waiting for the ‘perfect’ piece I’d write, I’m reminded of this quote by Margaret Atwood, ‘If I waited for perfection, I would never write.' When I seem to forget it, this blogger friend reminds me and I’m back to writing. :)

I like Theandric Thursday stories because they’re fun and allow me to make the story go anywhere I like, however quirky that might be. It feels satisfying, even when I somehow tend to extend the stories into sequels these days. You’ll find the next part posted by next Thursday. Till then, I hope you enjoyed reading this!

PS- You can read Usama's Theandric Thursday post for this week here. 

How not to be taken for a ride..

Don't think literally, though. Because if the ride's a convertible and the driver is friendly, I'd suggest you jump at the opportunity! But I'm talking metaphorically today, so what I mean to say is, you cannot and should not do anything that doesn't make you happy (parental rules excluded), especially if it's something "for" other people. In our world, particularly where I live, we have this "tradition" of treating people lower to us in power like muck. I'm sure you'd have been a victim of such power play at least once in your lifetime, just a handful of times if you're lucky. 

You might not be verbose in your demeanour, but don't let that seem like you're easy to fool. There will be many who, in the name of 'professionalism' would look at material benefits rather than human emotions and preferences. It's not entirely the fault of such people, sometimes it's just the way they've seen the world around them go and they genuinely believe that it's the only, and the right way. However, it's important to know that there do exist people who've the capability and inner will to look beyond the "only" way. A normal person might not like how he is treated, but he'd take it as it is because it's the only way he's known. A learned, strong person would have a belief, he would feel empowered from within, not caring about the usual, "what would people say?" and behave in the way he feels comfortable.

You've got to respect yourself and the first and most important way to do that is to believe in your own self. Most of the people who are easy to take for a ride, to be taken for granted are not aware of their own power, or their rights. Just because they're not used to thinking about it. Spend time knowing yourself better, be aware of your capabilities and limitations. Know what you're not comfortable with and never, ever settle for anything you don't want. 

Be firm. If you believe what you're doing/saying/standing for is right, don't lose your stance. There will be many who'd try to influence you, but you've got to stay put. And really, the so-called "consequences" are just petty and small in the long run and would in no way affect your happiness, or the lack of it. Someone got upset because you said "no"? It's their problem. They lack understanding and have higher expectations than necessary. Stop worrying about it, because there would be ten more people who're constantly worried about saying 'no' to something and they will definitely look up to you and take inspiration. Be a motivator. Be strong.

Src: wikihow.com

I've previously also mentioned how I feel we are experts at complicating our lives, just because we worry too much about other people and their feelings and their reactions (a note to my friends: yeah I know, this is such a hypocritical statement :P). How about for a change, you think about your feelings first? Only the dumb ones would be hurt by your decisions and you'd do better to be in smart, strong company. It's not as difficult as it's made out to be. Because it always takes time. Things seem complicated because they tend to extend over a period of time and we lack the faith for things to turn out okay. Looking back and connecting the dots, we realize how simple it really was. But well, it's human to feel like that. It's okay. Just accept it as a phase and live it through. Why get over-stressed about it?

Another important thing to remember is to always speak up. If you feel something's wrong, say it. If you keep mum about it, they're going to shower their injustice again. Better to tell them they're wrong. If they accept it, that's an awesome job done. If they don't, it's good that you're out of their system. Be glad about it. This reminds me of the song Brave by Sara Barielles. Listen to it if you haven't. :)

Being with yourself, spending a little time suspended, away from noise would give you a sense of being. It's really peaceful, if not important to experience. It gives you perspective. If you are at terms with your own self, it becomes easier for others to interpret you to some extent and considering how dynamic human nature is, that does mean a lot. Keep smiling, look at your family pictures from years before your birth, make plans for how you'd want your future to be and work on self-improvement. Be driven and motivated. Help those who aren't as strong willed or able as you are. Stop worrying about people because like someone said, they're all going to die. You would too, so live well. 

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That's all for the gyaan. I know I've been AWOL from this precious place, even though I had been dying to update y'all. I'm DONE with my Masters! Yoo Hoo! Five straight years in college. Can you believe that? Now all I've got to do is settle for something "I" like. It'll take some time, but I'd do it. At least I know what I'm looking for. I'm on a restful break right now, trying to recuperate recover from the college shock life. :P So far I've mostly slept, seen myself getting fat(ter), read some, reviewed some, caught up with family and relatives, cooked a dish for the first time (which surprisingly, turned out awesome *_* ) and re-made plans and ideas about what I want to do now. 

Apart from the boring, serious things, I wish to learn painting, convert that huge cardboard box that I've been saving in G's room since forever, into a storage area for books, get back to creative photography, spending time experimenting with new techniques and use the tools I have to their optimum! There's so much to do! I never say my life's easy. If you've been a regular reader, you'd know it's been anything but easy. But still, I always want to go back somewhere (in my case, this blog being one of such places) where I am reminded of my own self, where I remember who I am and how I should be feeling great. I think everyone should have something that makes them smile and remember, something that inspires them. I hope you've found something like that. :)

PS- Just by the way, I "kinda" have an idea for a TT post. Be ready for next Thursdayyy! ;)

   

Somebody deflated Scoot's tyre. Again!

It's not something you're supposed to make fun of. Okay? -_-

Yes, I knew there's going to be something that would go wrong. You think I don't feel guilty all those times? A professor's words ring in my ear each morning, whenever I do the deed, a little guiltily. This is what he said, "There's nothing called a free lunch in this world" and these are the precise words that roll over in my head, just before I brush them off, each time accompanied by a chant in the name of God. I'm not used to breaking rules, after all. However high on corruption my country might be. But still. Sometimes the easier way has its own pull and you get addicted to it, especially if it works. Most of the time, anyway.

The last time it happened, Scoot was carefully parked outside a Raymond's showroom. As soon as I put it on it's hind stand, packed the silver/grey helmet in, (I still haven't found the perfect purple helmet. Someone gift it to me please?) I made a mental note of admiration for the thing that had such a big role in shaping my personality to some extent; that of an independent, brave and appreciative girl. If I could, I would have stood there till eternity, smiling proudly at Scoot. But for one, I was "obviously" getting late for college and two, despite the fact that I have dollops of weirdness-awesomeness in me, it's not always a good idea to show-off. People are useless in terms of understanding it, because. 

See how BEAUTIFUL she is? :')

So as I walked away, those words making me squirm with guilt, I did not look back and prayed. Apologies and a plea for safety. After the usual day as I paced towards Scoot and finding it safe, breathed a sigh of relief, little did I know that the relief was somewhat short-lived. It took two rolls of the tyres to make me realize that the back tyre was flat. Either punctured somehow or someone deflated it. Since I was anyway high on guilt, I dragged Scoot with an anxious heart, driving at a snail's pace. Of course I knew that you're not supposed to drive with a flat tyre, but what was the alternative? The nearest petrol pump was ten minutes away, near my place.

*Fast-forward to today* 

I didn't leave dear Scoot anywhere near that showroom again, of course. (Happy Mr. Moron-Raymond? -_-) I found a new place. Still guilt-ridden, though. And it feels even worse because I leave Scoot in a rush, not wanting anyone to see me like that, doing the deed. I stopped turning back to look, like you usually do with loved ones. Of course she'd feel betrayed. She still didn't allow me to bear the brunt of my mistakes. Like a real friend, she kept it to herself, strained herself when I should have been paying a bit more attention. She never let me have any problem. Even today when she was hurt, it wasn't "me" who was the victim. It was Scoot.

Those words had floated in my mind, again. I brushed them off, again. Prayed, again. Had the usual day in college, again. I paced again, like every evening, cleaned the seat of dust, just to find a bum-pattern already in place. Seriously? The major disadvantage of leaving Scoot on it's back-stand is that it becomes easy for welle people to sit on it and chat or whatever. Although I'm all for social service, I'd still mind getting weird patterns on Scoot. At least wipe it off, you. -_-

The doubt began as soon as Scoot was on both it's ... tyres and felt heavier than usual. By the time I drove for a couple of seconds, it was clear: Somebody deflated Scoot's tyre. Again! And I most certainly did not appreciate it. Not even knowing it might have been my mistake because seriously, why JUST Scoot? A lot of people are to be blamed as well, but why target Scoot? She's the most innocent two-wheeler ever! Belonging to the most innocent rider! 

Wanting to just reach home safely, I rode Scoot way below the minimum speed possible, watching the world, including cyclists and jay-walkers pass by quicker than I was moving. Would you call me crazy if I say it was actually fun? And funny? Have you ever been on a two-wheeler with a deflated tyre? Not that it is recommended, because, like I imagined, the tyre might come out completely and you'd fall, or in some cases, burst. And you wouldn't know what happened and although I have a very active imagination, that was something I dared not imagine. Anyway, it's funny because the vehicle moves in a very...... "jumpy" way. I was hopping on Scoot, without actually hopping. :P Just because the tyre wobbled and I was sitting on the moving vehicle. (Again, it is not recommended. Be more alert, unlike me. And use your brain and go to the nearby tyre-walla, ten metres away, instead of the petrol pump, ten minutes away).

It was kind of weird, not zooming past everything. I saw real people, like, live. They looked so... people-like. Normal. They still exist. o.O And they're not really as mean as I believed them to be. No one really cared to stare at a girl hopping past them, even though I must have looked really funny. I mean, of course I was! I wanted to get off Scoot, clap and laugh at myself! Just that I couldn't!

Taking more than double the usual time, I managed to stop at the tyre-setter outside the petrol pump. Feeling grateful to the bhaiyya who made Scoot stand up solid, once again. Assuring me too, that she isn't punctured. :') Considering how Scoot did not let me down by breaking down herself in the middle of an extremely busy main road, despite the fact that she "desperately" needed petrol since forever (eeeps!), I have to say I'm proud of her! :') As a treat, I made the petrol-guy fill in double the usual amount of awesome petrol. :P

The only thing now is, I'm confused. Should I still take the easy way out and endanger Scoot? Again? Or should I make the extra effort and get up early and make it harder for me, instead of for her? The sin I've been committing? Not keeping Scoot in the metro parking, because the main area is under construction for more than two years now and it was a pain to park in that cramped, uncomfortable and extremely far-for-comfort parking. I had been parking it just next to the metro station. Un-allotted space. For free. 

Really, there's nothing called a free lunch in this world. *Sigh*

Metro Diaries #6: Lateness, just like how it used to be!

You remember how it used to be on the good old days of my undergrad when I reached college hardly on time? And then MBA happened and it all became a sad past. But seems like some things just come up so you cherish the past instead of feeling horrible about it. I'm late to college. *Very* late, in fact. And if I think about how it all happened, you'd say it's because of my carelessness, which is probably true, but I'd like to give it the benefit of doubt and call it a classy God-wants-you-to-be-late-due-to-some-insane-divine-logic thingy. (What? I'm still me, hence, hopeless with names :P)

So what happened was, I got up with a *lot* of difficulty, considering how tired I was coming back from the farewell yesterday. (Yess. The end is nearly there! And oh by the way, the title I got was 'Paperback Princess'. I always end up getting bookish stuff o.O or princessy stuff. Both, in this case, which is actually awesome). And also considering the fever and all that jazzy (but non-awesome) things that happen that make you want to sleep. But I was still ready on time and ready to shoot out when I realized I had to put my stuff in my usual bag. Throwing in both 6-subject notebooks (no time to check the subjects), and the lunch box (still the old one. What did the maid do with the new hot pink lunch box mom got???), I rushed out, sat on Scoot and rode off. *speed, speed, speeeed* 

Halfway through I decided to do a mental check to see if I had everything I'd need. That's when I realized I forgot the laptop at home, which we'd be needing in class today. Recalling my group partner's Whatsapp message. *shoot* Instead of turning right like I had to, I took a u-turn and *speed, speeeeed, speeeedddddd* rushed back home, parked Scoot outside and *knock knock*, waiting for the door to open. I rushed inside and packed in the laptop, not forgetting the charger this time. Throwing out one spiral notebook (who has time to check the subjects????), packing the bag again and rushing out. It's drizzling. 

It had started to rain while I was rushing back home and it was still drizzling. The maid, like always believing she's the queen of the world or whatever, advised me to take a riksha instead, in case the rain goes bad and I'm stuck in some weird place. And I like an idiot dismissed my own brain and took her advice. Taking the sole rickshaw available, who did not even have change for a 100, I dragged myself towards the metro station. It's such a pain to be in a snail-paced rickshaw, and think about my pain when it did not even rain a drop.
---___--- 

I don't know why I keep using this picture.
It is just so "me" :P

I reached my station 5 minutes after the deadline time I have for myself to be able to reach college on time. It would still have been okay had it not been for the awesome fact that I had forgotten my Metro card at home. In another bag in another place, where I had kept it for use yesterday. *Note to self: never ever forget metro cards while changing bags* I had to take a ticket! The vending machine (those new thingies they put instead of letting normal human beings do the job) was very conveniently 'out of service'. The customer care had a long line and the line was half as long for the other TVM. I walked towards it and saw no Metro official. The people were playing with the machine on their own and since the awesome machine doesn't accept any other denomination than 10 and 20 and I had neither, I had to go back to the long customer care queue and wait for my turn. Spying on people, I realized that everyone was just recharging their cards and I almost decided to go back to the other counter that seemed to be open, but then thankfully the guy before me got a ticket and I asked for one too. Got it! 

It was half hour for the class to start and I had a 40 minute metro ride, not counting the train-change time. Plus the rickshaw-to-college time. God! Whatsapping a friend, I got some solace thinking he's 4 stations ahead of me, late too. But still. What if the whole class turns up on time and I'm the only one who is like, 20-25 minutes late and the teacher doesn't allow me inside and I have to go back, embarrassed? O.o Not that I care about that, but I can't miss the class because I have already somehow missed 4 of this subject and we're allowed to only miss 3. And for the three days I did not go to college and wasn't well, I had the medical certificate which I think was in the spiral notebook I threw back and left at home. I want to die. 

But it's okay. It is a bad day, even you have to agree. I ran to take the shorter (and more crowded) route and then the not-so-tempting general coach just because it would help me walk less on that insanely long platform at my station. I was around 10 minutes late for the class, which, considering all the kattas that happened, was not at all bad. And just when I had jumped up on a rickshaw for college and had the tyre complete one revolution, I heard someone calling my name. Looking back, I saw a teacher waving at me and we stopped, waited for her to hop up on the rickshaw and then moved. It wasn't bad, except for the fact that I'm horrible at conversing with teachers. I don't know how others do it so easily. I just can't. -_-

20 minutes late to class. Eeps! Running towards the room, avoiding people too slow to move like the ninja I am, I reached class. And what do I see? Everyone casually strolling around, chatting and gossiping and homeworking and all such 'ings' that happen in a classroom. The teacher bent over the coveted attendance register, pen hovering, staring. Not quite understanding what he was doing, I went all, 'err sir? Ashna. Present!' :P And he went, 'Ashna? Oh yeah, present' :P Yay *_*

Why do weird things happen with me? I'm such a strange-things-magnet. I mean, these are the kind of things you can't even begin to explain to anyone. Suppose the class had started on time, imagine if it had been a sadu teacher instead and had asked why I was late, then? I couldn't even talk about the metro having a problem because that has now become a staple with the going-by-metro population which includes......everyone. But still. That is why I believe in God. He saves me. :P

PS- Two things. One, I need to write and write and write. My vocab is at an all time low. Two, I had typed 90% of this while going to college, in the metro, on the fone. I'm awesome or am I awesome? ;) :D

PPS- I've noticed this trend. When I write regularly, I hardly get any new followers and readers. And when I'm on an unmentioned hiatus, I seem to attract more bloggers to join the site. Why? -_- Are you guys, by any slim chance, implying that you'd encourage me to not post? -_- :P

OK "see you" for now. You should know I hate goodbyes.