A great message and beautiful style

I recieved this post recently. It is attributed to George Carlin, a comedian of the 70's and 80's. Read on.....

The paradox of our time in history is that we have taller buildings but shorter tempers, wider Freeways , but narrower viewpoints.
We spend more, but have less,
we buy more, but enjoy less.
We have bigger houses and smaller families,
more conveniences, but less time.

We have more degrees but less sense,
more knowledge, but less judgment, more experts, yet more problems,
more medicine, but less wellness.

We drink too much, smoke too much, spend too recklessly,
laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too little, watch TV too much, and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.
We talk too much, love too seldom, and hate too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life.
We've added years to life not life to years.

We've been all the way to the moon and back,
but have trouble crossing the street to meet a new neighbor. We
conquered outer space but not inner space.
We've done larger things, but not better things

We've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul.
We've conquered the atom, but not our prejudice.
We write more, but learn less.
We plan more, but accomplish less.
We've learned to rush, but not to wait.

We build more computers to hold more information,
to produce more copies than ever,
but we communicate less and less.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion,
big men and small character,
steep profits and shallow relationships.

These are the days of two incomes but more divorce,
fancier houses, but broken homes.
These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers,
throwaway morality, one night stands, overweight bodies,
and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill.

It is a time when there is much in the showroom window and nothing in the stockroom. A time when technology can bring this letter to you,
and a time when you can choose either to share this insight, or to just hit delete

Judith Viorst

I recently discovered the poems of Judith Viorst. The poems are soo simple yet eloquent, something like Dorothy Parker's and as much fun too. Read on I have posted two on my blog...

If I Were In Charge of the World

If I were in charge of the world
I'd cancel oatmeal,
Monday mornings,
Allergy shots, and also Sara Steinberg.

If I were in charge of the world
There'd be brighter nights lights,
Healthier hamsters, and
Basketball baskets forty eight inches lower.

If I were in charge of the world
You wouldn't have lonely.
You wouldn't have clean.
You wouldn't have bedtimes.
Or "Don't punch your sister."
You wouldn't even have sisters.

If I were in charge of the world
A chocolate sundae with whipped cream and nuts would be a vegetable
All 007 movies would be G,
And a person who sometimes forgot to brush,
And sometimes forgot to flush,
Would still be allowed to be
In charge of the world.

Happiness (Reconsidered)
Happiness
Is a clean bill of health from the doctor,
And the kids shouldn't move back home for
more than a year,
And not being audited, overdrawn, in Wilkes-Barre,
in a lawsuit or in traction.

Happiness
Is falling asleep without Valium,
And having two breasts to put in my brassiere,
And not (yet) needing to get my blood pressure lowered,
my eyelids raised or a second opinion.

And on Saturday nights
When my husband and I have rented
Something with Fred Astaire for the VCR,
And we're sitting around in our robes discussing,
The state of the world, back exercises, our Keoghs,
And whether to fix the transmission or buy a new car,
And we're eating a pint of rum-raisin ice cream
on the grounds that
Tomorrow we're starting a diet of fish, fruit and grain,
And my dad's in Miami dating a very nice widow,
And no one we love is in serious trouble or pain,
And our bringing-up-baby days are far behind us,
But our senior-citizen days have not begun,
It's not what I called happiness
When I was twenty-one,
But it's turning out to be
What happiness is.

Green is my garden

Green is in. Yet, it was not a color I ever thought about. Growing up, my childhood was surrounded by its verdant sheen. everyday my mom or maid would either be weeding, watering, pruning, sowing or stealing greens. The last was the maximum adventure in our staid city and the expeditions would be planned out.Earlier forays into the adjoining neighbourhood would have informed them of some beautiful plant that they could 'twitch'for their own and they would set out in the night armed with gardening scissors to filch cuttings.....asking might havde got the same results, but I guess they preffered the joy of taking rather than recieving; sometimes they would not have to work so hard for it and the plants would be lying discarded on the roads by their non-discerning owners.
Greens of various hues filled my house and my garden and the day we moved to a new neighborhood, we hired a truck for the plants alone, but many were still left behind.
Growing up in this haven of green, I never thought about them and was just content to sit back and soak in their beauty while the others cared for them. It all changed when I moved to Mumbai. Few people in this teeming metropolis own a patch of green and the balconies in all the appartments have been absorbed to increase carpet areas. Living space is at a premium and at times appartments with plants are targeted by neighbours who get drenched in non-seasonal downpours from watered plants. The lack of greenery made me pine(no pun intended) for the comforting color and made me realise it's luxury. No amount of house decor can add the same touch of comfort and beauty that one verdant, blooming pot of lush green can and for that I am all for green.
My daughter proudly claims the few plants that I manage to fit in a tiny corner as her 'garden' and even manages to muster excitement for the 3 pots that she wilfully weeds. The garden is tiny and the blooms are few but whatever there is, distracts the eye from the monotony of skyrises and for that beauty I am thankful.

Half-read, fully enjoyed

It's been a looong month, full of half read books. The problem of choice. I had such a lovely collection to read from that I just hopped and have been hopping since then...
The list was as follows:
1. Gang Leader for a Day by Sudhir Venkatesh
2. 100 Selected Stories by O Henry
3. Selected writings on Delhi compiled by Khushwant Singh
4. The Portrait of a Lady (Collected Stories) by Khushwant Singh
5. Stranger to History by Aatish Taseer
6. A Little Princess by Frances H Burnett
7. Mister God, This is Anna by Fynn
Old favorites, childhood memories and new perspectives all bundled into one month…..now you comprehend?!
Lets start with the last one, the one that I am currently attached to.
Mister God, This is Anna first revealed itself to me in my lost teenaged youth, when I was looking for a book to gift a friend. My usual gifts were books, not only because my friends liked them but coz I could borrow them back….devious right;) So when decent time had passed (I have good manners), I borrowed it. To say that the book is phenomenal is an understatement- it reaches conclusions through such logical steps, that you are zapped. Anna is a five year old, who holds the answers of a millennium in her soul. To be absolutely truthful, I have never read the whole book. Every time I have picked it up- the beauty and truth of its ideas have made me stop and take stock, and then I find it again. This is the third time in the last 15 years that it has found me and this time I plan to read it all through.
Reading, A Little Princess, was like reliving my childhood……must have read this book in class 5 or 6, breezed through it again. The language is simple and reminiscent of a bygone era- charming and sweet. Thanks Sunita.
Stranger to History is good but have just read the first 150 odd pages. Will review it later.
The collected stories and writings were of familiar authors and were like a bowl of warm, comforting soup……reading them is a ritual that involves curling up on the bed and shutting the world out- spa treatment for a book lover.
Gang Leader for a Day is the amazing story of how Sudhir Venkatesh, a student of economics at the University of Chicago in 1989 joined a gang to study urban poverty in Chicago. The book offers a whole new perspective at the socio-economics that prevails in poor communities and how they use their bare minimum, sub-standard resources to work towards transforming their lives. The book is only painfully true at times but helps you look at the ‘poor ’ without pity but with understanding. The choices they make, may not always seem right to us, but they work for them and in the end that’s what matters.

a root canal

its a root canal!!
the medical accord was clear
my teeth are clearly not as good as they appear
the tools of piercing, filing and sawing were out
oh no... how do i deal with the medical clout.