1. Write an open letter to the PM, and other famous personalities (write about anything, as long as it's three paragraphs long)
2. Get slapped in public (preferably for wearing scandalous clothes)
3. Say something dumb on TV, then make a viral video to show just how dumb you really are.
4. Hook or by crook, get a selfie with THIS man.
5. If you have a really large butt, oil it up and flaunt it to the World..
6. Accept a challenge from a celebrity, and tweet with #BangBang
7. Talk about why you do not agree with the theory behind Interstellar
8. Bully the living s#$% out of Times of India for talking about your cleavage.
9. Feature in any of the 952349 'Happy' music videos out there
10. Bite someone on Live TV, and wait for the memes to follow
Can you think of any more? Comment below to let me know!
Woke up this morning with an agenda. Whatever it is, have to, have to get some of that Vietnamese coffee into my mouth. Yesterday's craving translated to me frantically looking around for the same coffee shop which I found as I strolled around the lake yesterday: The Starbucks of Vietnam. I have just ten minutes to make it back to the A1 hotel before the bus leaves for Halong Bay, and so I hurry up with my coffee that kind of ruins my experience. I scram back and make it just in time to catch the bus: the next phase of my trip. I meet this tour guide named 'Tehn' (pronounced as 'Chen') who tells me that his name can be pronounced in three different chords, and every way you say his name, it has a different meaning. His name meant prosperity. Oh shit, so even my name means the same thing! This guy looks like a Jackie Chan who comes in a small package. Hilarious to the core and I'm not even sure if he's intentionally that funny or is he really serious about everything that makes him all the more comical. He asks me if I'm allergic to anything, and I say "Yes, to Seafood" and his eyes go wide and says "Oh my god! I'm happy I asked because that's all we will be serving on the boat for the next two days! This one time, I forgot to ask, and a Spanish group were also allergic to seafood. Then they got on the boat, and.." Tehn remains silent for a few seconds, looks away with a serious face and says "Terrible.. Just Terrible" leaving me to imagine the rest of the story.
On to the bus, four hours till we reach Halong Bay, and a round of introductions begin. A group of german girls (who's names I don't remember), a young English couple, a Mexican girl name 'Cecilia', a german couple.. Ok, just a lot of nationalities on the bus. I think about making use of Google translator to talk to the german girls, but most of my questions that I could think of seemed inappropriate, such as "Do you know how to swim" and "Are you going to swim in that thing?". Instead, I find this charades game on my phone, and nervously ask the german girls (who seem pretty engrossed with their own conversations) if they want to play the game. "What is this game?" one asks in thick german accent, and I explain. Soon enough we are all laughing at the back, mimicking various animals that the phone throws at us. That got me introduced to Chris and Glenn from Ireland, who seem really sport enough to have a good time on a long drive. These guys are all out fun, and the perfect mix we need to stir things up. Oh, there's our boat, our new mid-sea base for the next thirty odd hours. During the course of the day, we take smaller boats to another island where we hike into a cave that looks just like the Bat cave. After which, upto a hill that has a stairway of a good thousand steps to the top. We climb up and back down. Thighs and Calves are now upgraded to version 2.0!
Conversations feel hard to strike after all the action this day saw. Everyone's understandably tired, and a bit weary about what next. I think of playing some music off my phone, but that still felt wrong somehow. Up until the point in the evening after dinner. Chris and Glenn bring in a crate full of beers and get the party going. Finally! Rounds of beers follow, and that's when I feel it: It's time for Bollywood. My latest victim who falls immediately to the tune of Sallu Bhai's Dhinka Chicka: Cecilia from Mexico. Glenn has his dance moment too, when Chammak Challo plays soon after.
As I think back about that evening even today, the best moment is realizing you are on a boat, in the middle of nowhere, with people you've never met before, laughing over cheap beer and dancing to Bollywood.
Out of immigration and into the cab. "Duong thak duong" my cab driver keeps repeating these words and several other variations of it with someone else on the phone. That was my cue to check if I had Google translator on my phone. It's misty here. A Stephen King novel could get inspiration from the level of fog around us. Distant buildings stand tall but diminished at the horizon. Been a good hour's journey from the airport to the central part of Hanoi. So far I haven't found any chain of restaurants that we usually take for granted in most known cities. No subway, no Pepsi logos, no KFC. Instead, every five minutes I catch a building that stood apart from the rest, like a joker card in a deck of cards. Each of these 'in-your-face-babbi-lehri' structures have the word 'KARAOKE' embellished in gold or in some other fancy way. Ok, so we have a lot of aspiring singers here in Vietnam. I see lots of cars though, the Hyundai and Toyotas have been breeding well in this part. This part around the airport reminds me a lot of Bangalore's airport area- in the midst of nowhere, lush and green. Those who aren't driving in cars are on two wheeler mopeds - all riders are wearing that surgical mask to rid off the smog perhaps. OH I finally find a Pepsi hoarding, maybe we are closer to the heart of this town.
As we reach the A1 hotel, roads get narrower and busier, I encounter atleast twenty picture perfect scenes of locals sitting idly by their own stalls, waiting for tourist customers. Wish I had those huge ass SLR's that could spot the worried wrinkles on that old lady's face as she checks the rain with her narrowly slit eyes eyes. I leave the hotel, began recalibrating myself about where I am. I left my mind out to wander, and that's when I hear Vietnam's calling. The street. The sound of it's people. The strong smell of welcoming hits me instantly. Stronger than their coffee. It wasn't even a minute's walk past the small shops, and about three people stop me on my way: One offers a ride on his tram, a lady offers me local sweets, and a boy from the other side of the road offers to fix my torn shoes. I wonder how he spotted the tear from so far across.
It's way past lunch time, and my stomach's killing me. I've always been skeptical about eating in this country, and being allergic to sea-food was the primary reason. What am I even doing here? I go to a nearby restaurant that looked 'clean' and 'airconditioned'. It was a 'make your own roll' kind of place. Food is the one part of my trip I thought I would fear the most. Pork, rice, wraps and lettuce did all the talking in my mouth, and the verdict: delicious..! Tiger beer seems to be selling at large, more than Heinekens. I also ordered for some Vietnamese samosas that had spring onions in them, really tasty when served with BBQ sauce.
I begin walking around a lake that was recommended by the A1 receptionist. Seemed pretty popular amongst the people around here. I get around to explore more about the people here. All kinds of people. Joggers, lovers, hawkers and ramp walkers. I am amazed by the number of couples getting their wedding pictures taken along that lake. Man and woman in wedding attire are surrounded by professional photographers. This couple with roses in hand seem to be posing, both smiling innocently towards the cameras. Not more than ten metres away, I find an other couple, and then another - each with their own set of photographers. The serenity of that evening, and it's simple story around it consumed me that evening. I'm back in the room thinking about today, and all that really comes to mind is the reflection of the city street lights off it's water body.
This blog may anger a few, disappoint a few and the rest would just laugh at me as I vent for no reason. Manchester United. Truth be told, I have been a fan-in-the-making ever since my childhood. My motives of becoming a United fan are honest. Every time my cousin would come visit me from Mumbai, he would gift me United keychains, posters or calendars. I'm still not sure why he thought I was a United fan, but I never found the heart to tell him that I didn't even follow the sport. I started by hanging the United calendar at my work desk. I have to admit, it looked good. It also gathered a fair bit of attention from my colleagues at work who would nod in approval as they'd pass by my cubicle. Some would stop and ask if I saw the Sunday match, and if I'm looking forward to the next one. I still can't remember how I got out of those situations without revealing to them that I had no idea what they were talking about. Only a few of my close friends knew the real truth, and would tease me by asking me to name any four players from this new club that I was now supporting. Laughter would follow next. 'That's it', i told myself. The next buy I made at Amazon was this glossy red book 'The Official Encyclopedia of Manchester United'.
My next few days went by with me taking in considerable information. I got through the first few chapters about how this team began it's journey turning a small-time club at a railroad company into a multimillion dollar force we now have today. I was easily influenced with my new fascination towards the sport as well; I left the world of cricket behind me and intently began following the Barclays Premier League. I learnt to hate Manchester City as a club, and learnt what offsides meant. I was now able to tag players faces with their names. I was able to hold a conversation with my friends, and most of all- I passed the test of naming not just four, but ALL the players of the United team. My world suddenly became an exciting one as I began to appreciate your passion behind following this team.
I have come to a point where I can write about something truly relevant in the current times with Manchester United. In my few years of following this club under Alex Fergusson's leadership, I thought I made the right choice supporting this team and players who played not for personal glory, but played for the crest on their jerseys. I missed the whole 'Class of 92' phase, but players like Giggs, Scholes, Ferdinand were still in the team. All these players were manufactured in United itself, and that's what I thought made you fans so proud. Unlike City, Chelsea and Arsenal, this team was truly a class apart. True, we had a disappointing last season after Fergusson's exit, and you guys endorsed the new manager, Moyes to be replaced by Van Gaal in less than a season. For any passionate fan, I'd agree it may have been the right choice for a club that demands results. However, in striving for success does that warrant setting aside the tradition of standing behind our Manager and players when the tides are rough? United have been through thick and thin, and you have always seen them through with your support. This club was built on the foundation of vintage players who devoted most of their lives to this club. After these players left, I expected this club to give young players a chance to play their hearts out for at least a couple of seasons, and expose their true potential on the field. Who knows, maybe we'd see the next Scholes or Giggs within our own youth instead of looking elsewhere? But no, instead we push the panic button. We join the rest of the clubs in this rat race we call 'transfer window' and splurge our money to wage for players like Falcao, Di Maria and Vidal: All of whom are well into their peak of their careers, and wouldn't think twice to move to a different club if situations and money enticed them. I hear the chants go on by you 'true' United fans as these multimillion dollar signings score every goal, and I wonder if you really care about this club's legacy or all you really care about is winning? From a half-hearted United fan, this was my point of view and this is not what I signed up for.
These cufflinks aren't worth what I paid for. Marketing gimmick by that lady in the green dress who lured me into buying a set of these with that limited edition platinum bracelet. What seemed like a casual visit to Cavanni's for a pair of leather shoes ended up amounting to an extravagant 25000$ bill for this limited edition hand-cuff, that I now carry around my left hand. It felt right when she first snapped these around my wrist. I liked the way the cold metal felt over my skin. I thought of Tony Soprano placing his finger over the trigger, and his other palm holding the smooth barrel of his gun. But that was only when I first wore it at the showroom. Every time I now stare at it, it reminds me of nothing purposeful. No one even seems to notice it, and it just feels heavier with every passing day. Bravo. Yet another useless collectible that hasn't delivered in making me feel good about who I am. I lean over towards the window and wait on as my driver left me here; to fetch that hot mocha from across the road. I open Facebook on my phone, and hope to see that red notification light up on the top bar. None. Really? I check again if anyone liked that picture of me and Roger Federer sharing a laugh. Nope. Maybe it's just that busy time of the day for everyone. What if they're all just being douche bags, pretending not to care? Maybe its me who's overthinking? Fuck it.
I stare at this homeless old man sitting by the pavement, listless and wide eyed. He seemed to be staring right back at the car I'm in. 'He can't possibly see me' through these heavily tinted windows. Even then, I get this eerie feeling that he's looking right at me, wondering what it must feel like to sit on this heavily stuffed cushion, or how warm it must feel inside. He seemed to be chewing on something, churning his teeth. I pick up a 10$ bill resting in one of the cup-holders near the arm rest. I squish it close within my palm and hold up the green paperball with two fingers. I take aim of the cup holder and toss it forward. The money bounces off the edge and rolls under the limo seat. I look out again, bored. That old man still sat there, I noticed he had this grin on his face, which bothered me. What could he be possibly smiling about? A part of me wished for a cold rain to make him feel miserable, or hoped that someone would usher him away from where he sat slothfully. His smile bothered me. I bet this no good oaf hasn't done anything to have any afterthought today, and has no plan of doing anything for the rest of the day. His world is so empty, I sat there smiling to myself. Yet, his World is so full.
I sit on the heavily cushioned leather seat of my Limousine, gazing past the crowd clamoring to catch a glimpse of my face. My eyes blinded with every annoying camera flash. I look away, adjust my Rolex and look back again at the heart shaped hoardings with my name on it. The hoardings fade away, behind hundreds of faces sticking their cheeks and lips against my window. I swirl my finger around lazily, carving a smiley against the glass that separates me from that vast aquarium of mediocrity. I'm past that phase of wondering why these people love me so much. All these faces swimming around me like fish, and I'll never see them again. My people warn me of that impending time when all this fame will be taken away from me. Once that time comes, I'm sure I'll feel like a kid who's suddenly lost his favorite toy. I need to keep my arrogance in check; I can't afford to burn any bridges with the people whom I have to live with every day later when this fun ride's over. My gold plated iPhone delivers a text, my super hot, extremely paranoid girlfriend is asking me to join her and her friends on my private boat "Summer Sand" to celebrate her birthday. I'm too tired to think about work, this seems like a perfect getaway. I text her back telling her I'm coming, and maybe I'll get time with Asha, her elder sister. My mind's clouded with thoughts. That first time I found Asha by the poolside, slowly stirring her martini, looking right at me from above her eyewear; hinting at a world of possibilities between us.
"Back to the Villa, sir?" My thoughts are interrupted by the sure voice of my chauffeur. His white hair and scales on his face tell me that I'll probably need to look for a new driver by the end of the year. "Yep, and use the quieter streets this time" I was in no mood to entertain another horde of strangers. The perennial grump on his face is the last thing i notice before he acknowledged and turned around to rev up the engine. The thick scent of Gucci on my suit makes me feel dizzy. Life with my Chauffeur makes me want to think of myself as Bruce Wayne with his butler Alfred. This guy was no Alfred. He doesn't like me, even after all that money I throw at him. Does he not remember last evening when I shared some of my expensive Champaign with him? Each glass alone cost over a 1000$. Look at him, acting as if he owes me naught. Some consideration would've been nice.
'I don't have time for this' I say to myself as i look out to the crowd one final time. I play my own game to single out a few faces in that crowd, and build a story around them. That bald guy standing at the back carrying that kid on his shoulders, maybe a divorcee who's only hope he has left is this child on his shoulders. That girl screaming my name in the front? An anemic with anxiety issues, staring at my poster every night before going to bed. I wonder how she'd react if she found me at her doorstep the next morning. Imagine me giving that bald guy and his kid a personal tour of my Villa, a ride on my private jet and maybe get them to visit the studio. Sometimes i wish i could do these things without bearing the consequences. Not for making anyone happy, but just for myself; to see that rush of adrenaline they get when experiencing tiny morsels of my mundane life. Most people living in that deprived world tell themselves that I have my own problems. That i can't walk openly in the streets without being flogged with people, or that i can't sip on coffee from Starbucks that's only a few blocks away from my house. These very people cry themselves to bed when things cant go the way they want because money doesn't permit them to. That money they have been saving to buy that house they've always dreamed of is nothing but pocket change for me.
Here's my middle finger to all these people whining, and trying to look for faults in my perfect world.
Click! Ever since someone out there suggested adding a camera feature to phones, I found myself clicking, recording, instagraming almost everything that my eyes considered remotely interesting. A weird cloud formation, a cat sleeping by the sidewalk or a stranger checking his phone, be sure to hear a 'click' from my camera so I can save it to watch for later. I know this isn't anything new, I know that most of us do it. What's a memory if it can't be shared? I won't just stop at pictures, I'll want videos as well, hoping that one of them becomes a YouTube sensation, gathering millions of likes from around the world.
Our eyes are our own camera, recording every moment as the reel in our head plays on endlessly. I take it upon myself to capture the right moments on the physical camera for that re-assurance that it actually happened. Or maybe I'm just too lazy to remember. With over thousands of snaps and videos stored on my laptop, the cloud, my phone, i began to feel restless. I found myself in a room of realization, that I'm probably going to die taking this collection with me, and no one will ever know about those amazing moments I captured. There HAD to be an answer to addressing this. Looking at the media on my phone, I found a pattern of all the things I've been doing over the past year. Almost every picture had either of the following:
1) A happy group showing off their Colgate white smiles
2) Someone holding a glass of beer or wine in hand, showing an intense pout to the camera,
3) Random pictures of my own family: me, my wife and my dog
4) Offbeat pictures of food, things, places- I instagram the shit.
Wait... that's it?? All those thousand pictures can be categorized into one of these groups?
So much for my 'spectacular collection'. I wonder who'd want to watch all this even if they had access to these folders. All those tiny shreds of videos that were scattered memories, needed a stream to flow into. Why not use them as part of a better, bigger story for others to watch? Just a few seconds from each video were entertaining enough, so let's only use those. Don't get me wrong, watching pictures and videos in singularity have a separate charm, but this is a fast unforgiving world we live in. Gone are the days of sitting by your grandma flipping through those laminated glossy pictures. So I thought this through and picked up a topic I wanted to cover: Our recent Bali trip.
With over 450 pictures, and 70 videos, I transferred all of them to the iPad. There's an app called iMovie that seamlessly allows you to select, cut, paste and trim videos with zero lag. You can also insert your favorite pictures into your movie. Now from those seventy odd videos, only a few seconds of each of them were entertaining.. iMovie lets you select all the portions of the videos that you want to add by simply dragging your finger along the interesting bit. Cut, paste and you're done! Once the movie's made, a very integral cherry on the topping is the background score to keep your audience engaged while they're watching. Not just a random score, but something that sets the underlying tone of the movie and keeps a tempo suitable to the content.
In my Bali video, the song i chose was something that I heard in Bali and NO one, not even Shazam could help me find the name to that song. All i had was that few seconds in a video that played the song while we were getting off the boat. After six long months of hopelessly whistling the tune, i tried my luck again by connecting my speakers to the phone, and played the video again, volume in full blast, Shazaming it, only this time- the name popped right up!
You can imagine my excitement after I found the glue that would now hold the movie together.
Enough rambling by me, I hope the video speaks more while you're watching :)
Do let me know if you liked it? I'll be glad to help out if you like what you saw and want one for yourself too :)
On a lazy Sunday morning you'd find me watching random TV. This time, Percy Jackson & The Lightning Thief was on, Percy Jackson and his two friends are on this elaborate quest of saving the World by slaying one evil monster after the other. Midway during their adventurous journey, they wind up inside a colorful Casino in Vegas called 'The Lotus'. A few good looking cocktail waitresses offer them a few cookies that look like flowers. Really, really delicious cookies. On their first bite, they fall in love with these flower looking trinkets, and slowly - after every bite, they start falling in love with the Casino, the lights, the music.. forgetting why they're even there. They try telling themselves they can stay there longer, maybe just a few hours more, or maybe a day..? Beautiful lights, colors, music, food.. What more could they want? Everything made perfect sense, until that point when Percy Jackson realizes that the cookies that are so desirable, yet so easily available- are drugged, putting him and his friends in a state of a trance. He remembers his quest and wakes out of this alluring Lotus trap. He gathers all his will power to resist the temptation of staying there any longer, refuses any more cookies from those beautiful waitresses and escapes just in time to continue his quest that he originally set out for. Five days, that's how long they were stuck there. When they first walked in, so innocently agreed to staying at the Lotus for only a few hours.. and who would've thought that this harmless little place would consume them for that long. This story also reminded me of that little bit in Life of Pi where Pi discovers this little haven of an island where he found endless supply of food and clean water. But somehow, he finds himself to realize that he will only be trapped there forever, and eventually leaves the Island with Richard Parker, the Tiger.
That got me thinking about where I am right now. In my home, within the comfort of my couch, watching TV, surfing facebook and with a cup of hot tea by my side.. Am I also caught up in this Lotus trap? A place where everything seems perfect, yet standstill. Looking around, am I slowly being fed to this pretty world that I choose to call home? Is there some greater quest out there that is beckoning? Even if there is, should I even care? Knowing that I'm not alone in this Lotus Trap, and in the company of people I love being with, is comforting. But as much as I keep convincing myself that this is home, I'll also have to accept that there's nowhere going from here.
So why did Pi even leave that island? What if Percy Jackson had never snapped out of the trance? So what if him and his friends never left that place? I struggle to fathom why do people sometimes do what they do, only for a greater cause. We are no superheroes, and its up to us how we live our life. Why is it that most stories and movies which end happily always relate to the hero's quest being completed. You'd never see an ending where Percy Jackson would decide with his friends "F*** this quest, let's all stay here and be happy for ever!" What if Pi also decided to stay on the Island with Richard Parker, and gotten fat and old there. That wouldn't have been a solid movie ending for sure. It's all these movies that make everything sound like there's a greater cause out there that we must all go find and conquer.
Where do you stand in all this with your thoughts? Are you that person who lives everyday for a greater cause? Or do you even believe that there exists one?
Hard hitting, true inspirational stories are what drive this World to see the light of day towards the end of every dark night. People who take real pain, are the ones whose names are told in stories of fallen stars rising back to the top, whether they accomplish anything or not. These are the people who make a mark everyday, and make another mark on a later day to sense how much they have moved forward.
One may argue the point to all this: "Why even bother? I love my couch, I love my dog, I love my TV. Who needs to move forward, if I love where I am today, and every other tomorrow?"
Those who've known me by now can say without a doubt that I'm the-one-who-loves-the-couch-person. I woke up one day, and asked the forward moving person "what does it feel like on the other side of the fence?"
He told me that he was me once. He loved the fact of having no agenda, no workout plan, no career motivation, no savings.. He loved a good laugh with friends, talk about the happy world, and float his back over a lazy pool full of movies to watch, and good food to eat. All he loved was something new to read about, something new to talk about.
But there came a moment when he ran out of these interesting stories. Each story he found was just a variant of another. As he looked around, he realized that he was nothing more than an echo of what belonged to various other voices.
He hated being the guy who spread the warmth of a fire that was started by somebody else. He was done listenning to stories. He decided to get up, and write his own story.
The next day, and the day after that, this new ideal seemed difficult to cope up with. The planning, execution, and social acceptance as well- having to explain what brought on this sudden change of cycle from having no intention of doing anything at all- to a new beginning where every day is marked as a reminder of what was achieved and not. Just as easy as it was to do nothing at all, it seemed just as hard to do something every day, that meant something. And it felt terrific!
So this person who I was so inspired to learn from is the same one who had been sitting on the couch everyday, and watching TV.
That person, is you.
You've just decided to get back to the old ways of moving forward rather than wait and watch what others do in the front.
The moment you get off that couch, you will decide to never look back.
Get up.. write your story.
Back in college, while most of you had issues talking to girls, I had my own battle to deal with; being a part of a decently long conversation with anyone without making a fool of myself. I struggled to gain acceptance in a friend circle of any size. Large & small. I remember trying hard to impress with talking about relevant topics, so I would pre-decide what I'd talk about first, and then strategize a time to throw an open ended question to my friends and wait for the credit later. I soon realized that this plan backfired, when any of them would answer my question, they'd expect me to follow up with a supporting statement. This is where I'd go expressionless, tongue-tied and absolutely blank.
Here's a gist of my problem in real time:
Me: "Oh did anyone watch that episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. yesterday?"
Friend: "Yea, dude.. Rachel is so hot. I also envy all their lives in New York"
That's it. I'm done. My speech glands would throw in the white towel, I'd smile awkwardly, look around shyly, hope somebody else would say something else to change the topic, or someone would shoot me in the head to put an end to my misery. Yep, It was that tough to continue a stream of a fruitful conversation.
The worst comes when I'm in conversation with two friends, and one of them walks away, leaving me with the other. I still remember the beads of sweat that I try to keep from rolling down my head. I stare at this friend, and start a silent timer in my mind; in hope that I would see through this time without a moment of awkwardness. This one time I will never forget, It was more like a life changing experience for me:
It had been just a few seconds since my friend and I were left to ourselves, and I already began feeling the tension in the air. I began with "So.. What's up" to fill that void. He looked at me suspiciously since it had already been an hour since we met each other. "You tell me" he responded. I scanned around to look for any distraction, so I could talk about that. I didn't see any. I tried hard to think of something to say, to keep me in the game. I suddenly saw a bulb glowing in one dark corner in my mind, and this is what I said: "So, tell me more about your girlfriend. Do you like her?" I thought it was a relevant question. Honestly, I wasn't sure. I'd just have to wait and watch how he responded. He stared at me for a few seconds and said "You are not good." I thought i heard that all wrong. Just to be sure, he said it again "You aren't good to talk to".
A part of me died; right there.
Those beads of sweat trickled down my head onto the rim of my spectacles, and the condensation that formed on my glasses blurred my vision. That's all I remember, but that was enough to let you guys know just how agonizing it was to maintain an interesting conversation full of relevance, and practicality.
People have given me all kinds of advise to get around this by saying "don't be the first one to speak" and "wait for the other person to ask you something first". But I'm not that way. I need to initiate. It wasn't long before I gave into believing I'm probably just built this way. I can't for the life of me imagine myself having a one on one intriguing conversation about where our country is heading, or what is wrong with the socio-economics of today's world (i don't even know if socio-economics is a word, but you know what I mean) Instead, I have taken to the path of the unknown. I've set sail to a place full of awkwardness, as i ask you not about your profession and where do you stay, but ask about why do i feel your head looks bigger than normal, or if you ever worry about dying alone in life?
The point to this all? Something new.
We're always going to be friends, and you'll meet millions of friends after me. But this is my way of getting to know you better. And for you to distinguish our friendship from the rest. Embrace that feeling of awkwardness. Needless to say, you don't have to answer them, but I'm really hopeful you would. Even though you may feel this is completely unnecessary, you'll hear a silent cry from that part of you inside, who really wants to answer that question. So go for it. Let's see where it goes.
Follow me @awkwardnik to be a part of the hot seat, where I'll ask you one awkward question a day, and you play sport. You don't have to; but it would be just another way to get you thinking about something random.