Get me more Choglet

right, since I've dicided to be verbose, let's get along with it. How would I like a blog to be? It's someplace where you can air your views without too many people watching. Well, for me. I wanted the fun of writing online, wanted the fun of writing, actually, and some freedom. No prying eyes, least of all judgements. Last thing I'd care for is something like, Bloggers of Calcutta Unite! Not as if people are falling over themselves reading it here.
But may be it's the job, may be it's how I am, but now, with a job and all, you have to put a lot of yourself away here, talk in weird coded language out of the fear of observers whose existence it's a vanity to presume. So yesterday I had a diary entry like, 3 pages long (usually it's just half a page once in a blue moon when I am feeling too upset to keep it to myself) though I was opening this page to write almost everyday. I even thought of going for another blog.
So here's not the place for my many crushes, fears, frustrations, loneliness (yeah, about that. Too many people who are somewhat like I am situated now are really lonely. It's the same old story- love, friends, places, insomniated nights, parents there but not there- young urban Indian, blah) Why must growing up be so painful. Why must you be royally fucked to cross any bridge? Where's the enjoyment? Oh yeah I am a fanatic cribber, have made a religion out of it.
And there we go again! 'Think will have to quit pretty soon now, this is getting to be the old hackneyed rant again. Oh if it even had the dignity of a rant. Edmund White, Edmund White, where art thou?