Rambling

Why should it be so difficult to realise what we are doing? While we are doing it, I mean. Why is it that it all seems to make sense and have a logic of its own and even an inevitability of some kind, but in the end, why does it all turn out to be a fabric created by own imagination, coloured by our own fanciful palette, tasting faintly burnt, specially around the corners?

While its always nice to hope that it won't actually turn out that way, why does it feel like it might? After all, it wouldn't be a really bad thing, except for the burnt around the corners part of it... that's going to be called regret, I believe. For the rest, it would be experience (though the experience may be nothing more educational than one page filled with colour for a two year old. How many pages of scrawled colour make for one pretty picture, after all?) and there is always the possibility that if I have to get it wrong, I'm getting it wrong Now, thinking that it'll turn out to be all wrong Later.

It's past three in the morning and I'm just home after a rather long movie which I quite enjoyed, though it could have done without about three or four songs that made it drag a bit; that explains why I'm rambling, though it doesn't give away Why I'm rambling thusly (wink wink)

I'm a bit disappointed with Archies Gallery. After making such a hue and cry about Daughter's Day and etc., it turned out that the only piece of merchandise that anyone would have been tempted to buy was not exactly merchandise at all. There was a nice long poster on the window of most AGs saying 'My Daughter, My Hero', with a rather cute cartoony girl under the slogan. I wanted that poster. I had already decided to stick it on the door of my room. And it isn't even merchandise... just promotional. Blah!