Jean-Paul Sartre wrote, “If you’re lonely when you’re alone, then you’re in bad company.”
Well, I am personally quite comfortable (too comfortable, perhaps) in solitude and I pity my fellow misfortunate millennial counterparts (not all of them, but you know full well which cliques I’m talking about) that need to meet five different groups of acquaintances a day, so as to feel a sense of recognition and purpose.
I mean, who else knows about your deep, dark secret (oh,c ome on, your real deep, dark secret, not the flimsy excuse of one that you have ready to dish out to your girlfriends so that they are convinced they are your trusty inner circle or that you divulge to the intriguingly cute boy at the party so that he maintains interest in you), except, well….. you?
Not to mention those weird habits you had in school that you will never, ever tell anybody about.
So, take the day to celebrate your weirdest, kitschiest companion.
I wish I could chill in a bathtub for indefinite amounts of time and play with rubber ducky….. I mean, er…. scented candles. Light scented candles. Eh hem.
But let’s face it, for us middle class Indians, we’d probably become best friends with Malaika Arora Khan than actually ever own a bathtub. (I’m serious, these stars are swarming all over the place).
So anyway, since my life lacks the space for a bathtub, I indulged in a head massage (or should I say, what felt like a human machine gun, since said massage was delivered to me by my extremely robust grandmother who was very happy I was finally taking to my Mangalorean roots), donning my favorite Fuzzy Baba slippers, losing myself to Pinterest and Imgur and taking out a big bag of questionable snacks that my mother gets from Japan.
Ok, I’m not even kidding, since I don’t read Japanese, the pictures in the description include what look like…… eels.
And seaweed. And maybe some kind of Japanese snail.
Well, I’m all alone, who am I going to tell about these ghastly culinary adventures –
Oh. I blogged about this.