Corners of the bedspread

Minds flash and the mind flashes
 A phrase that I recently made up.. I lie in my bed, curled up in blankets.. Trying to combat the obnoxious jittery sensations running through my "aura", in response to the disarrayed pitter patter outside.. I wanted to tune my ears out.. *Ladidadidadada*, along with shutting my ears.. never works. Like NEVER.. It inturn tricks me into paying more attention to the raindrops, making it a substance of  scrutiny.. I shuddered at the thought.. So here I am distracting myself by reading " eat pray love".. It is nothing like I had anticipated. It isn't the story of a woman who unleashed the demons within her who wanted to party across the world. It is the story of a woman brooding over her miseries. And I love it.

Which drags me back to my phrase.

Minds flash and the mind flashes.
   

Is it perfectly normal to think of creepy phrases which I myself am unable to understand? Which make no sense at all.. The point I am trying to make is.. I am ignorant.. How?(you ask me?)
     

    I am avoiding this phrase. Denying to decipher it. Like I refuse waking up in the middle of a dream..  Like I cringe away from the pitter patter most people look forward to.. Like I would sleep on the floor rather than tucking in the corners of a bedspread over a mattress..
Yes.. My denial reflected that fervor..
A SIMPLE NO
So yeah.
My reflexes were afflicted by this aversion towards stuff.. This denial. "I- so- dont - want- to - do- what- needs- to - be - done"
 

The brain doesn't have ears. You can never shut the voices in your mind.
So, it goes on an on, until you feel as tiny as an unsalted peanut no one wants to eat.
"Completing the most monotonous and repulsive tasks is one of the biggest challenges in life", daddy said, tucking in the corner of the bedspread over the mattress.

" So true!", I agreed, starting to tuck in one section of the bedspread, peeking out of a corner.
I probably will try to figure out what my phrase means.

Shoveling thoughts

The best way to avoid procrastination as a writer is to keep writing, I’ve read somewhere; to anchor and passionately pen down the cogitations rambling in the mind. “Maybe you could write a blog post about it!”, said T, gulping down a big delicious panipuri, with a sparkle in his eyes. ‘You’ll dig out some deep shit from that too and I”ll be all “I don’t know , I was just eating panipuri”’

I just chuckled for the moment and left it. The thought did wade across my mind though, so here I am trying to contrive ‘deep shit’ philosophies on eating panipuri. Is that what I am doing?

In order to compose such philosophies, one must come up with metaphors. To be honest, my head is brimming with metaphors all the time. They squeal and bounce and go gaga. Yes, I am the ’Mother of Metaphors’ (wuddup GOT reference!). But no, right then, there was this big glob of panipuri dancing in my head.

“No, I am not going to write deep shit philosophies on panipuri. I have a life”, I said to myself.

You ask me to write about panipuri. I can write an essay describing the tantalizing flavors, the watery crunch, the appetizing potato smash at the base.. and make people go.. ohh panipuri! But deep shit philosphies?

For jaljeera may drip or jaljeera may hold, but the temptation clings on forever..

* Tennyson frowns from heaven*