monk

a few days earlier i read tis piese of moving story that made me wonder. i cant seem to find o remember where i read it, so you'll got to have to do with my version of it. it goes like this"

'one day,a man was polishing his brand new car, at that time his young son came and asked him what he was doing. the man ignored his son while diligently continuing his work. the son then took a piece of stone and scratched the car hood. the man (obviuosly) flared up and started beating the poor boys hands. the boy was seriously injured and was rushed to the hospital, where x ray showed that all the bones in his fingers were broken. the boy innocently looked up to his dad and asked "daddy, when will my fingers grow back" the man was saddened by his action. later when he when back he saw that the boy had actually scratched i love you'

the man committed suicide the next day.

quite a touching story isn't it? k maybe my version is slightly watered down. but i sense you'll get my point.

it makes you think that this is what humanity has reduced to. objects are looked after better than fellow humans. and it got me thinking about my obsessions.

you see, i am mildly obsessed with objects, like my story books for instance. i generally do not borrow them to friends. unless 1) i know you very well. 2) your as obsessed with your books like i am 3) if you force me to part with them by blackmailing me, in which i shall curse you to rot in hell. so what is my obsession like, you ask. for one, i do not open my books larger than a fraction of 2cm, k maybe that is a tad impossible, but i do try. so yeah, i open them as least widely as possible simply because i don't want the bind to have crease. and i can proudly say that none of them have creases, except 1 which i borrowed to a friend. bad mistake. so generally my books are read only by me, thank god, my bro do not read my paperbacks. he only read the last 2 harry potter books. (they are hard cover) since am pretty sure a guy cant take care my books up to my level of satisfaction. i am just sexist in that way.

see no crease, not even in the thick ones

next, i am pretty particular about my bed. i absolutely hate if anyone puts their stinky or not, washed or unwashed, left or right leg on it. like really really on it, with their feet firmly on it with all the toes spread out. *horror. and ya i don't like you puttin your bags on it, unless its a Nike as kick ass as mine, then can la :)

<3

and i dont like anyone touching my things without my permission. especially those things that has sentimental value that others don't know. argh, am getting so angry over an incident where the above mentioned actually took place. and even if you do take/borrow some random stuff of mine, i would like them back on the designated place. thank you very much.

and and i am pretty obsessive with food. i don't like the flavors to mix. weird much? so chances are if you offer me Oreo then immediately throw a plate of chicken curry, i would decline the offer. no matter how good it looks, unless i am allowed a sip of water 1st :) which explains why i don't fancy sweet and sour chicken. and i don't like my curries to mix as well. i am a weird indian. and you know i used to be very stingy when it comes to food. used to k, not anymore. that position has been taken over by my sister. like seriously, i would give you a scowl if you decide to ask a bite of my favorite food, which is unfortunately everything :D

but, obsessed as i might be. am not a neat freak. not in all days, only occasionally. i am not like The monk from the series, who wants everything to be in order. so i guess am just mildly attached to my bearings.