So here goes my first ever blog post. I just read about couch surfing, and it's really an exciting concept. There is a website called www.couchsurfing.com . You can register yourself there. Now what it does , or rather what you can do with it, is really interesting. It basically acts as a platform for all the 'couch surfers' (just like an ordinary social networking site, you'd say). But the adventure just begins with this website, at the point where it ends on other social networking websites, that's knowing new people all the way round the globe. Okay, now one may be justified by asking 'What the heck is this couch surfing ?' Actually it is a method of traveling.Now assume that you are on a vacation trip to Paris. Now as you don't know anyone out there you will obviously have to reside in a hotel, eat expensive meals and rent even-more-expensive city guides and then rely on them to guide you along the whole city. So is the traditional approach...
Saw your face in the crowd the other day, I remember what you used to say, Remember those songs we used to sing, The memories of the old times still ring. The forever blinding gaze, Surrounded by the Christmas lights, And that staring endlessly, Into cold starry nights. With hand in hand, Remember that moonlight walk? The sound of outdrawn breaths? Overhearing the mute cries? Yeah! I remember you. Bounded by the silent reproach, Words sometimes sound so meek, Few unsolicited questions, And a couple of answers to seek. The time has flew, The years passed in haze, Plastic smiles that survived, Tears been long vaporized, Old memories now amaze. It's Christmas Eve, Sitting by the attic I look past the horizon, The remembrance surrounds the night, And the lights still shine so bright. On the table lay two cups of coffee, And some shear and strain, Besides rests an empty chair, And no one to brew the pain. Trains of thoughts rush by, The fondling re...
Its been a year since I began contemplating seriously about getting into a film school. A series of confusions ensured that I miss the FTII 2009 dates. The binduest of all being the fact that I had to leave my peanut salary and start with an empty bowl again. It made me think over and over. My mind almost threw my heart out of head one day until I re-read a famous advertising quote inscribed on my office wall. The one we often use to describe our profession to non advertising people, especially women as that might impress/intrigue them. Who knows? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. What matters is the quote : “ Don’t tell my mother I work in advertising. She thinks I play the piano in a whorehouse”. Wait a minute !! whorehouse. Oh yes!! thats what whorehouses (agencies) do. They hook us, enchant us and keep us shut out from the real world. If you got to find your voice and truth, you got to get out of that cushy creative department of yours. With that note I decided I have to take the plunge. ...
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