One more from my past - 08/03/04
Dear XXXXX,
I am writing because I am thinking about you. It’s funny that I find it easier to write than to speak to you. I feel like I need an excuse to call but not to write. I feel like I intrude on your life when I call but don’t when I write. It doesn’t make any sense to me.
Besides, I still feel like a fumbling, stuttering 16-year old when I speak to you. And my words just tumble out all wrong when they are not tied up in knots along with my tongue. Not so when I write (God bless the man who invented backspace).
I went to see some agricultural land yesterday hoping to buy it. As it turned out, the land was in the middle of nowhere in the back of beyond. It was land in its barest, unappealing form. This plot of land, less than an acre in size, did not have an access road. It did not have electricity, water or even a fence. For God’s sake, it did not even have a tree on it…just dry, caked earth with weeds.
I have decided not to buy it. This is just the beginning of my search and will have to make several such trips before I find that perfect piece of land. My quest shall go on.
I am sorry to trouble you with such boring, irrelevant information. “Kya karoon? Kuch control hi nahi hota!!”.
You will continue to receive such e-mails from me because YOU inspire me. YOU ignite my soul. Is it you or is it the idea of you? I don’t know.
Hoping that you’ll always be “My Unattainable XXXXXX”
Love
Vidyuth
P.S: Should you reply to this mail, just tell me about the mugs and when they will be ready. I hope you received the Demand draft.
Would you react differently if I just asked about the DD? I guess I’ll never know. Maybe I am writing all this just to spice up a dull factual letter seeking the status of the mugs. Maybe I am trying to show off my written communication skills (Don’t comment on this one). Maybe Paulo Coelho’s ‘Eleven Minutes’ is having this effect on me. Maybe I am writing this with the secret hope that when I am rich, famous and dead, my letters to you will be discovered, published, prescribed as a text book, debated and awarded the Pulitzer prize.
I have no illusions about my writing skills. Maybe I will be awarded an… award (He! He!) for the strength, depth, conviction and originality in my writing rather than for my writing itself.
Enough Vidyuth!!!. Shut up!!
I am writing because I am thinking about you. It’s funny that I find it easier to write than to speak to you. I feel like I need an excuse to call but not to write. I feel like I intrude on your life when I call but don’t when I write. It doesn’t make any sense to me.
Besides, I still feel like a fumbling, stuttering 16-year old when I speak to you. And my words just tumble out all wrong when they are not tied up in knots along with my tongue. Not so when I write (God bless the man who invented backspace).
I went to see some agricultural land yesterday hoping to buy it. As it turned out, the land was in the middle of nowhere in the back of beyond. It was land in its barest, unappealing form. This plot of land, less than an acre in size, did not have an access road. It did not have electricity, water or even a fence. For God’s sake, it did not even have a tree on it…just dry, caked earth with weeds.
I have decided not to buy it. This is just the beginning of my search and will have to make several such trips before I find that perfect piece of land. My quest shall go on.
I am sorry to trouble you with such boring, irrelevant information. “Kya karoon? Kuch control hi nahi hota!!”.
You will continue to receive such e-mails from me because YOU inspire me. YOU ignite my soul. Is it you or is it the idea of you? I don’t know.
Hoping that you’ll always be “My Unattainable XXXXXX”
Love
Vidyuth
P.S: Should you reply to this mail, just tell me about the mugs and when they will be ready. I hope you received the Demand draft.
Would you react differently if I just asked about the DD? I guess I’ll never know. Maybe I am writing all this just to spice up a dull factual letter seeking the status of the mugs. Maybe I am trying to show off my written communication skills (Don’t comment on this one). Maybe Paulo Coelho’s ‘Eleven Minutes’ is having this effect on me. Maybe I am writing this with the secret hope that when I am rich, famous and dead, my letters to you will be discovered, published, prescribed as a text book, debated and awarded the Pulitzer prize.
I have no illusions about my writing skills. Maybe I will be awarded an… award (He! He!) for the strength, depth, conviction and originality in my writing rather than for my writing itself.
Enough Vidyuth!!!. Shut up!!
posted by Chaani at 6:01 AM
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