When I was younger, I used to—not enjoy, exactly, but take a certain pleasure from being low and melancholic. I remember I often spent days at a time in an unbroken mood of gloom, regret, and dislike for the world and for other human beings, - just plain, general despair. A few days after not really cracking a smile, being really sorry for myself and completely bumming out I’d recover looking pale, monosyllabic, and wonderfully refreshed. In later years I’ve had to give up this indulgence. Walking around depressed with no reason is disagreeable behavior for which friends, colleagues and family will chide you, out rightly. Plus I just don’t have the time for it anymore. Whenever I'd get started on a good downward slope of melancholy, work concerns or pleasures would distract me, and I would abandon my mood in irritation. On Saturday morning, I decided to stay at home as bad weather made shopping or any kind of socializing impossible. I sat in my room and watched as the day got gloomier and gloomier. Rain fell constantly. Outside my window heavy drops of rain landed on the parapet with thuds. I sat on my bed and listened to some soft jazz music intermingling with the sound of the rain... All of which appeared to be interesting to me at the time.

Then the call arrived from my friend reminding me that we had to meet up for lunch. So I set out to meet her and Dex. Dex is short, with dark brown eyes and a wholesome north-Indian face except that he’s south Indian. A generous sprinkling of freckles would not be out of place on it if he had them, but somehow he doesn't. They would clash, anyway, with his short hair combed flat, and the aviator shades he carries around, and the black pants and white t-shirt he dresses in. Dex and I have known each other for what feels like forever and as we wait for our third friend, history revives. At eighteen, we went on our first trip together. We used to go out in cold nights that were chill, slightly hazy; nights with a buoyant softness in the air, and maybe the scent of freshly turned earth and a gradually darkening sky that seemed almost combustible with possibility: the kind of night when you're eighteen and you’re sure that something exciting is just about to happen. For a moment the memory of those nights hit me, taking me by surprise in the midst of my lunch with Dex. In the next moment the vividness of the memory was gone. Dex knows what I was thinking about; he just doesn’t bring it up. For a while longer we sat quiet in the timeless time zone smiling at each other. After our friend arrived we became just best friends again, talking about work, a changing world and our possible futures.

It's hard to pick just one B’lore cafe, because so many have been around for so long, frequented more for ambience than for the coffee. Most of my friends love to meet at a café called Java City. It’s noisy, big enough to hold 40 people, a little scruffy and perpetually full of students. It defines what a meeting-place should be. Iced tea is the number one seller, but the cold coffees are awfully good, too. It’s at this place that I met an old friend yesterday after 7 years. That’s who this post is dedicated to.

If there’s anyone who gets my music right, it’s this dude. And props to him because I got a fantastic artist lined up today.

So here are two things I learned about James Morrison. One: He’s probably got one of the best voices I’ve ever heard. And Two: His hair is perfect. His music–which I’ll admit to only having listened to a few of his songs–have clicked rather well with me and they hit me quite the way they should. Of course, that’s not exactly news to anyone, but with the highly enjoyable play list finished, it’s worth repeating: Solid stuff! Good music today at EC, but heck. That happens every month. ;)

As always, any questions about what I wrote or if the music uploaded this week was totally awesome (answer: yes), can be left in the comments section below.
And I’m outta here but not before we hear from James Morrison with ‘You give me something’.

My only contact with the fashion world:

Imcha & A Model at the Lakme Fashion Show. Day 4

This is what an article in India Today had to say: ‘The day started with ten entrants called the GenNext by Lakme showing their collection where Anand Bhushan and Imchatsung Imchen stood out.’
I can’t wait to get my hands on one of my beloved friend’s creations and strut around showing off my new fabulous fashion sense.

saw it? want it? get it!

Contact the designer here!

You know how you’re always paranoid about people thinking that there's something wrong with your head or face? You think everyone is laughing about how hideous you look, but actually, they don't care about you or your blemish? Well, that’s what a couple of researchers say. These guys have determined that both women and men consistently rate themselves less attractive than others rate them. In particular, women saw themselves as heavier than men did, and men saw themselves as less muscular than women saw them. This is scientific proof that not only does the world not revolve around you, but all the members of the opposite sex are trying to kiss your ass. Once again, science shatters your worldview but improves your quality of life.

I should be put in charge of studies. Then we'd find out really useful things. For example, I could figure out if we could confine radiation from mobiles and turn it in to superpowers. I could also find out how long someone could live on just booze and vitamins. Unfortunately, I don't have the time or the funds to find this out, because all funding has been halted as our corporation has decided that they want to do away with 10% of the employee population. So till they decide who they’re going to fire and hopefully once it’s safe I’ll think about enrolling myself and my friends in little fun...ahem… serious experiments. And I am sure I’ll only have to wait a little while until I’ll be supported by other studies. Any ideas for interesting experiments? I would like to invite you to mail them to me, in 300 words or less.

Let’s be real: if there’s one thing we look forward to on EC it’s the music. To kick off the fireworks here, Jason Mraz:

He is so awesome - I adore his music and the humor in the video 'The Remedy' - especially the idea of plushy rabbit shoes. He’s the wizard of oohh's and ahh's and fa-la-la's, yeah the Mr. A to Z, he's all about the word play...As I listen to his music I’m struggling to find a piece of land to put my feet on.

‘And it's time to get ill I got your remedy
For those who don't remember me
Well let me introduce you to my style
I try to keep a jumble
And the lyrics never mumble’

If you dig his songs make sure you check out two other tracks I love- ‘Wordplay’ and ‘Make it mine’. Simply brilliant.

Congrats Imcha. Muah!!

Among the cruelest tricks life plays on us, the way our brain declines into a blob of something that has no more memory power to spare is truly the worst. As a girl I had only a few things to keep track of. There was one place in Dubai, a small town of sorts that I lived at; two main sports, basketball and bingo; two TV channels- Channel [V] and Channel 33; one season; ten kids in my building to play with; and so on. In no category did the number go beyond a dozen. I didn't meet new people and have to remember their names, because everybody I ran into I already knew. With my extra, leftover memory I conserved senseless conversations, garbage slogans my older sister and my friends made up and told me that these were what adults used. And not to forget insignificant information such as the number of children on the bus and the number of steps from our house to the end of our street, and the time it took to run and still catch the school bus if we were late.

Since then my brain has been required to hold gigantically much more, most of it highlights the word ‘dull’. Lately, it has become a feat to remember certain vital pieces of information; such as the title of a movie or a song, where I placed my offer letter and the name of that guy I went out with in college. And just when I have about given up trying to recall it, it appears, good as new. I guess the brain has only so many slots, and by the time you reach adulthood they have become muddled and packed out. I have a small place in my brain containing the following three things:
1. Steve Martin 2. Chris Martin 3. Eric Martin

They huddle together by some mysterious law. The three are easy to confuse because as names, they sound like made-up versions of each other. The first is the legendary ‘Father of the Bride’ actor. The second is the vocalist of Coldplay and the third, the voice of the band, Mr. Big. Sometimes when I have a spare moment I take each name out, consider it, link it to the proper person, recall each one's face and biography, and then put all the names back in place in my mind. I believe this is a basically healthy exercise, like brushing your teeth or taking a walk. I am slightly afraid that there's another category I've forgotten about, but I won't worry over it now. When I have all the names straight, maybe I will get to sleep. On the other hand, I don't want to become so carried away with remembering them that I repeat it over and over to myself as I lie in bed late at night. If repeated often enough, it will drive you insane.

However, when you suddenly remember something that you've been trying to remember, the relief and happiness you feel is intense. I imagine that would be what heaven feels like. The fate of a thing lost when you were barely 3 ft tall, the names of people you met only once at a party, the difference between Robert De Niro and Al Pacino —every answer coming to you in a rush of revelation, as if you'd known it all along.
Two things are certain about Amy Macdonald; she’s quite attractive and her music is the kind of stuff I would choose for this blog. Could this upcoming artist be as good as her famous female contemporaries? A large part of me thinks it will be impossible, but I can always hope. This is for certain, Macdonald makes amazing music. Music matters, not the rest of the hubbub. That being said enjoy.

Prattling

Some of my friends, (no wait, actually many) will tell you that I can worry my head off and make a mountain out of a mole hill. From worries at work to deciding what I’m going to wear, I realize that sometimes I let my imaginations run wild. I think of the worst because it's usually the worst that happens, but also, when you expect the worst and something great happens instead, you can be pleasantly surprised.

All you positive thinkers out there, you're always being let down by people because you expect good things to happen and you think the best of people. “Oh, he would never do that to me!” and “he’s better than that”. Guess what? He WOULD do that to you, if he hasn't already. People will not only live up to your negative expectations of them, they will surpass them.

I admit, it's a pretty cynical outlook towards life, but it's also realistic. I bet most of you could list on one hand how many times you've been let down, either by a lover, co-worker or friend just in the last six months. I try not to think about the bad things that have happened in past relationships, since it just means extra baggage for current or future ones, but a little baggage is sometimes needed, you know?

And you can probably guess that I’m not feeling too spunky today. Do you believe that every high is followed by a low? Sometimes I feel like my highs are higher than everyone else’s and I also feel that my lows are lower. You can’t really measure something like that though. It’s much too subjective. But since I’ve been having a rough couple of days it sure feels like it.
Sometimes, on days such as this one, I need to fall back on a regular to get me where I need to be. The deliciously useful Channing Tatum.

If this doesn’t work… then it’s over to dear ol’ faithful music.

Damien Rice: If you like Folk Rock then you’ll like him. If you’ve never heard of him before it’s good that he’s getting more exposure because he really is a talented singer. Rice stays true to the folksy, acoustic, harmony filled sound which easily lands him a post on my blog. His music isn’t daring or extraordinary, but it is well crafted, well produced and flows seamlessly from start to finish.

As always, any questions, such as whether or not my regular poster boy could’ve been more hairy like Jack Sparrow: Or muscle power like Mantastic Diesel! Booya!

Or inked like Ami James: Or dashing like James Mcavoy:
can be left in the comments section below. And if you’ve got time after reading this, why not head over to Split-Ends and Sob Stories. For 15, she sure can write.

Find a way to listen to Damien Rice’s music.

Need help? Contact me.

FINE-FOR-BLOG

Hi, everybody! I’m Eveline, and apparently, this is my blog.

You’ll have to forgive me. I decided on impulse this morning that I was going to skip out on having any tea today–marking the first time I’ve done that in… well, let’s just round it off to twenty years–and I’ve been in something of a stupor all day. In actual fact, to be truthful, the past few days are all sort of a blur at this point.

But anyway, it seems I’ve got this website, and I vaguely remember something about updating it daily, so I better get to it.

Fortunately, in my laptop, there were a couple of tracks recommended by some of my readers… In a folder named (I’m assuming I typed it) “FINE-FOR-BLOG”, so I guess that’s what I’ll be posting about today.

Looking around my room, I see that I’ve got stacks–stacks!–of crap lying around, and I’m starting to get the feeling that I never finished college! Clearly, a change of lifestyle is in order. But we’ll get to that some other day.

All right, folks, let’s get to it! After all, every minute I spend writing a snappy intro is a minute I’m not playing music. And if I don’t have my music then… then do we really know what to expect from anything? Will the sun rise tomorrow? Do I even know who I am anymore?! Up is down and black is white, people! Cats and dogs! Sleeping together! Mass madness!

So it’s best to just dive right in. Ah, that’s better. And my faith has been restored in the order of the Universe.

I’ve got a couple of tracks/ bands recommended by some of my readers and – People I’ve listened to all your stuff but there are just a few tracks I have in mp3 format right now and these I shall play.

Kings of Leon: Once in awhile there comes a song that I can listen to on repeat for an hour straight. These songs are few and far between. One such song I found a couple of months ago was ‘On Call’. After fellow blogger Epiphany told me to listen to another track (I’m afraid I forgot which one), I decided to get myself their album ‘Only by the Night’. The track ‘I want you’ is what I’ve chosen off this album.

The Scavenger Project: The kids of this band are awesome. They also span quite an impressive range of heights. A reader here on EC (whose blog I adore) had mentioned the band in my comments section and I liked them. So here they are gracing the web with this track titled ‘Signs’.

Tom Cochrane: This is my pick of the day. If you’ve been hanging around here long enough you probably realize that I’m into music like this. Hopefully that’ll make my support of Tom Cochrane’s music even more meaningful. Twenty years from now, when your children are just starting to listen to your lame old music and when they stumble upon ‘Life is a Highway’ they will listen to over and over again.

And on that note of excitement, that’s the week! As always, questions and statements on anything I wrote over this week can be left in the comments section below.
(Pls hit Refresh if the player doesn't appear.)