Memory of the memories

Long time..been almost a year since I wrote on this one.

In the interim..id migrated to anythinkgoes.wordpress.com, along with a friend, who had become 2 friends, and will continue on that but I was thinking maybe I write much faster and think much faster on a blogspot.com rather than a wordpress.com

So but blogs are also just like long-distance telephone call with a long-distance friend. The lesser you talk, the lesser you have, to talk and vice-versa.

Anyhow, i wouldn't even attempt reviewing this whole year. I might attempt to review what I have missed writing however. Missed writing about a hell lot, the shift from Mumbai to Delhi, the laptop to the netbook, from the first year to the 2nd year at work, from Zoo to Minkie and then without both, from the struggling, teetering new kid on the block, to a slightly seasoned one.

But while I'm here at this moment of time with ticking seconds and not years galloping ahead, I will take a moment to breathe in, breath out and lurch hesitatingly ahead in this blog.

There have been a zillion times that I've wished to write. I've stopped short at making a few keyword notes of them on my phone or sponging them into my memory and then done nothing about them. The truth is that memories become stronger only if you replay them, in head or on paper lest they become mere specks of somethings that were, or could've been.

I might as well blame it on my reading more, consuming more, leeching more. I may as well blame it on 140 characters, beyond which my brain resists a little, on Twitter and a whole world that it has opened, on longer work hours and shorter sleep hours leading to a more wasted and indolent body. I put this casualty of no-blogging on all of these and more.

anyhow, now that I've begun this, i wish to talk about much more. social media, digital media, Twitter, ads, marketing, Delhi, Indore, SEO/SEM (#hehe), movies, how businesses are run and how they almost run over employees like us and about much more angst and turbulence.

let's see of the fresh lease of life and the second coming. Never mind it'll be coming from an overworked pair of typing hands and an even more worn out pair of butts planted on a sagging brown bean bag.

Later