When I Die

Happy Memories At Stories.com

This entry is going to be one of those happy happy entries. Because it will mostly be about life at writing.com. There's actually nothing shocking about it, because as you must have already seen, most of the entries where I'm not whining and questioning, are almost always invariably linked to writing.com

Okay, the Anti-Slam contest is finally over. It was quite possibly the most hilarious time I've had in a long long time. Ha, I didn't win, but it doesn't matter one bit. Why? well, because now, at least I know this much, that I'm not the worst poet out there! But really, if any of you haven't gone over and see the contest forum, and read the prompts and the entries, you owe it to yourself, and your wacky side to check it out. I promise, you'll be splitted into a million pieces by the time you've finished.

I've got to make a confession here. Something I haven't said before. You know, before I came here [writing.com] I hadn't written one single thing in my life! Of course, we used to write essays and stuff for school exams, but I've never written any poetry. I've never written any short story. Never. Ever. So, it came to me as a really, really big surprise when I wrote the first poem of my life [it's called 'the donkey' ], and I actually quite liked it, in a nihilistic kind of way. What's more, other people over here were dropping in and giving me all kinds of reviews saying things like

1] Hummm, funny, but sad ending
2] Man! You really twisted the ending there...
3] Hilarious, now Percy should get a nice donkey hind-legs kick from Trillian

and other assorted stuff.


Now, honestly, I don't have any illusions about myself. I'm no great writer, I know. And the reviewers over here are just being kind.

of course, after that I wrote a short stories. A horror story called 'chikara'. Again, I got all sorts of reviews, mostly detailed one's, asking me to check a spelling here, a missed comma there, and so on... and surprise! most of them actually liked the story!

Now, for those of you who have read it, I'll tell you why I wrote this story. I hate my granny. That's why I wrote that. Honest. I know, that hating my granny is wrong, but then, she isn't exactly the best granny in the world. You know, in all my life, my mom, and my dad, never hurt me physically. Not once.

But my granny did. She broke three of my ribs once. It was painful... but like I said, this entry is not about my real life, so I'll skip talking about that now...

Anyway, the next thing I wrote, of course, was the article where I talked about my experiences being a normal member here at stories.com [writing.com was called stories.com once...]

Then, I decided to start a journal. This is what you're reading, of course

Hmmm, then I wrote a static item telling about a time when I almost died, and about how a miracle happened.

Some really really kind person sponsored the article about being a normal member. Next thing I know, my mailbox is flooded with reviews for that item, and surprise surprise, reviews for the other things in my port too!

I think I answered more than two hundred emails that day... I really don't know who sponsored that item, but by god! I want to thank him/her. That single item is probably the reason why I'm sitting here with a yellow case and a nice one year upgraded membership.

Hmmm, then Pita gifted me a three-month upgrade, and I joined her review-rendezvous team, reviewing newbie's items. PITA! Thanks! could say that she's like a long lost aunt I never had, but a God can't be the aunt of a chimp, can she? Hehe, and that's what Pita is. God. Period.
[I know PITA doesn't read my journal. Otherwise I wouldn't have written about the God thing. It really gets on her nerves sometimes ]

I'd been getting surprisingly heart-warming reviews for 'smiling angel' as people told me things like

'I swear, I've been there... man! I'm glad you're alive'

and similar.

I wrote another poem, filled with questions, called 'dark horizon'. and the generous reviewers were saying things like 'marvellous! amazing to see what twisted thoughts go on inside a mind'...


Ha, I'd been a changed person by then. Panchamk, had become a royal servant!
He'd met a princess. A honest to goodness, true-blooded, green-eyed princess from Britannia.

Hey, Amber is excited , I'm speaking about you of course

And then the servant was promoted to knight.
And then the knight became a chimp on his own free will. Hehe, toothpicks anyone?
bananas maybe?
[the toothpick thingie is something that only Ambie would undestand ]

Then, suddenly, just out of the blue, one fine day, a mail popped up in my port, saying

'congrats! you're now a preferred author!'

man! that changed my life. Suddenly, I felt like I wasn't an outsider [a feeling I've felt since childhood]. I belonged. In a delicious way, I belonged.

Now suddenly, black cases were showering me with flattery everytime I reviewed soemthing of theirs, saying
'words lik that coming from a great author like you...'

man! I seriously laughed my genitals off that day!

And then of course, bookwrite upgraded me for a whole year! wow!

Then I got my first awardicon! for the article about normal members.

And then I got another, writeing gave it for 'smiling angel'
Then haizey gave the same item another awardicon.

Then it was willows who awarded this journal...

and then andrea awarded my poetry folder!
man! think about it! someone here thought that my poetry was good enough to be awarded!


while on the subject of awardicons, So many good things out there! SO less GPs!

There are four really nice poems I want to award... one's by oracle. One's by dark kali. One's by melissa. One's by ambie.

Huh! all gold or blue cases! not fair. My next awardicon will go to a black case. promise

You know, looking exactly six months back, and looking at me now, it's like they're two really different people. Gone is the cautious little idiot, who wondered about what everyone thought and about how everyone hated him...Now, he's become a 'I give a damn about the rest of the world' jerk. Someone who'll speak before he thinks, smile when he wants to, cry when he wants to, wearing what he wants...


A little secret : remember when I said that I won't dress my hair up anymore? I don't.
I go leaving them unkempt, and people stare at me, with wide, gazing eyes. To hell with them. And my 'genius' mind tells me, that no matter how hard you keep your hair neat, sooner or later they're gonna be scattered by the wind anyway... so why comb them up in the first place?

Huh! I'm beginning to reek of philosophy again... quick... change of topic...


Coming to the point, actually, I wanted to win that contest. I would've loved to give away awardicons using those GPs... and there's a great person over here who could've used the GPs and converted them to money. She's an invalid. She can't walk. She writes the nicest poetry. I would've gifted it all to her. Lets see... 250,000 gps means 25 dollars. That added to her salary of 150 a month would've made her worries a little less troublesome for at least four weeks. I only read her stuff three days ago, but it's really very good.

If only I was rich... man! I would've given it all away to needy people, and made sure everyone here was a premium member, and everyone here had enough to buy food for the rest of their life... hell, I'd make sure everyone had enough to live like kings and queens.... to hell with my selfishness.

But, 'IF' is such a sick word... always making us hope of better things, when reality shall give us anything but better things.

Okay, I've been snuggling around in a little corner of Micah's monkey-jungle. It's a forum of monkeys, by monkeys, and for monkeys. Chimps and other assorted primates are welcome too

You know what? I'm gonna miss that Anti-slam contest now. I probably won't laugh like that in a long long time.



Hmmm, 2nd Feb is my birthday! Man o man! I only want one thing this time though. I wan't at least that one day to go without misery. Without pain, and without the past haunting me.
Or maybe I want death. Yes. She is a better alternative. Death shall take me in her silken black wings, and fly away to her dark castle, where I'll be free from God's reality...

Eeeeks! Now I sound like a burnt out poet....

In short, I want FATE [ugh] to get out of my life for 24 hours. That's all I want. I've wished for many things on my past birthdays, you know, most prominently about being reunited with you know who.

Then of course, I wished for looking like a Greek God. Now, I don't want that, know why? because in today's world, it's not looks, or charm, or even your heart that matters. The only thing that does, is money. And whoever said money can't buy you happiness, I'd like to kill that sucker with my own hands. I'd rather be sad and rich, than be sad and poor.

But like I said, I don't want anything this birthday, except a little time in which my mind would be free...


Drat! Reality did creep in this entry afte all. Reality sucks.

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