Rhapsodic

... looking for Google Wave invites? I've got a few to give out.

Send me an email/text/leave a comment/give me a call with your email address, and I'll send one along.

Hmm, come to think of it, this was exactly how I got rid of my extra Gmail invites as well.

EDIT: No more invites left. Move along, folks, nothing to see here.

Dear Euterpe,
I haven’t really abandoned you. Even though I had to part ways with your children (the keyboard and the voice lessons) you’re still a huge part of my life. You made it easier to study, you fill lonely silences and bring me closer to people through shared taste and vices. You also give people a bit of a headache when I'm in the shower. Please bless me with Jimi Hendrix’s soul, if it’s still available.

Dear Urania,
I’ve never really liked you. Sure, I like looking up at a dotted sky as much as the next star struck romantic, but I’m not fond enough of you to really get to know you. You do not inspire me. I do not write couplets about getting burnt by the moon’s gaze, and I certainly do not appreciate your overbearing sun harshly looking down on me 90% of the year. It doesn’t help that your domain is so vast. Sure, that applies to Music, Art, Literature, History etc. but yours is a less tangible vastness. I quite like my earthly pleasures and you, more often than not, remind me of mortality, and not even my own.

Dear Melpomene,
I’d prefer if you didn’t meddle in my life too much. You and your sibling, Erato, connived together to produce much angsty teenaged poetry, but I’m done with that. So could you please not bring about events that may cause me to regress to that state again? I like being 24 and (somewhat) put together. I don’t need tragedy in my life and “woe is me” is unbecoming when you aren’t 21. On the other hand, if you’ll help me pen a heartrending, Booker winning novel, then I won't mind if you stick around. No? I didn’t think so.

Dear Terpischore,
 I left you where I left the vocal lessons and the keyboard lessons. Unlike them, you didn’t help me much. I am not graceful and walk like a drunken duck, according to most. And I don’t dance at all these days, apart from the occasional giddily happy, side-to-side wiggle. The only things your offspring, Bharathanatyam, taught me that are of any use is the ability to survive complex Indian garments and to twist myself into pretzel. (Great way to spook friends, but I’m sure you already knew that.) I am sorry I quit, though, but there just wasn’t enough time. Maybe someday in the future I’ll dally with some of your other kids. Maybe Tango. Also, promise Ballet my little girl, if I have one.

Dear Clio,
I hated you when I had to study your seemingly never-ending annals. No really, I enjoyed reading them, but not cramming dates only to regurgitate them at exams. I learned more about Indian and World history from biographies, literature, historical fiction and Google Reader than I ever did from an education institution. Any chance you could somehow inspire a change in the educational system to include more of those?

Dear Calliope,
What did Homer and Valmiki have that I don’t? You’re yet to make an entrance in my life, so I’m going to jump a gun and assume it’s going to be pretty grand. I prithee, do it soon. Preferably when I am young, broke and need the money and not when I’m rich and famous and have little need to supplement a fat bank account. But please be touching. And real.

Dear Polyhymnia,
Sacred poetry is not my thing, and probably never will be. And unless I’m looking for an alternative career choice, neither is mime. But eloquence? That I need. You failed me often enough in high school, and I thought you were making up for it in university. Don’t make me spend it all re-charming the boyfriend. Where are you at my job interviews? Try and come by when I seem nervous and fidgety, not when I’m calmly babbling to a man who has had to abide it for the last three years.

Dear Thalia,
You’ve stuck to me. I wear your mask reasonably well, if I say so myself. You inspire most of my writing; at least the writing I’m willing to share. Still, I’m no P.G. Wodehouse, so could you sprinkle a bit of that magic dust on me? Or wait, the stuff you use on Stephan Pastis, J.K. Rowling, Douglas Adams or the creator of Lilo and Stitch would do too. But NOT the caption creators over at I Can Has Cheezburger, okay? They scare me, a little.

Dear Art Muse,
*waggles finger* I would’ve been good, you know. I always wanted to learn to sketch properly, but you never sent me a teacher who I’d actually want to learn from. And the doodling? Yes, it's quite cute. But I want to be able to draw and inspire, not squiggle and giggle.

Dear Photography Muse,
You’re in my blood. I understand you, I really do. Better than most people anyway. So why the hell don’t you behave and turn out the way I want you to?! You’re a tough one to reign, and there are days when I’m just about ready to give up on you. Then you send me a gorgeous sunrise, a silly cat, a pretty flower or a melancholic waterscape and I’m in love with you all over again. You're like a pesky ex I can't quite shake off.

Dear Cooking Muse,
You got me. Wholly and completely, and I wasn’t even paying attention when you did it. I was busy agonizing over food I didn’t like, when you sneakily suggested that you could help me make food that I did like. And so my fussiness was my downfall. I was happy eating whatever was at hand. Now I like making my own soups, figuring out how to make my own burgers from scratch (and inspiring others to partake in my madness) and testing half a dozen recipes for paneer. Let me not even begin to talk about how you tempt me to spend my savings on a myriad of things I didn't know existed till almost 2 minutes ago, like slow cookers, immersion blenders, garlic presses etc. You now consume my life. No pun intended.

When Penguins Take Over the World

The penguins are marching with flippers unfurled,
their goal is (I'm sure) to take over the world.
They've convinced all the seals and the polar bears too
that to save our planet they must reclaim their rule.

So they made lots of costumes and then dressed themselves
as a huge, waddling army of innocent elves.
Their plan is to commandeer santa's red sleigh
then invade all our houses on Christmas Day.

Every good boy and girl all over the globe
will get a pet penguin to have and to hold.
Then when all the spy penguin are safely in place,
they'll use mind-control powers to capture our race!

Grown-ups will have to do as these penguins wish
(instead of going to work they will have to catch fish)
And the new penguin president will be picked democratically
from a contest to see who can dance most dramatically.

Global warming will end before you can say "snow"
because ice caps and cold are all that penguins know.
So to make our planet very penguinly-pleasing,
they'll build a machine to keep everything freezing.

Our kids will be happy to skip school and play
with their new flippered friends every wintery day.
Our world will be a happier, penguin-y place
when the penguins take over the human race.

by WaterChild Reborn

Please visit the link at the top of the post and refer to the "Author Notes" for a list of things that inspired this (and general hilarity.)

... rather than finance?

Sam: You don't like raisins?
Joon: Not really.
Sam: Why?
Joon: They used to be fat and juicy and now they're twisted. They had their lives stolen. Well, they taste sweet, but really they're just humiliated grapes.

From Benny & Joon