The girl on the bus

I wanted to desperately vomit a few things and I suddenly found none to do the honours.
Blogspot offered itself with an overwhelming willingness and I could'nt resist.
Chapters of my life would arguably make a decent pastime for a passive reader.

'The girl on the bus' is a really contrasting story to 'The girl on the train' , which was some Ruskin Bond tale we had been taught at school.

I usually come to chennai by bus, but if I start on mondays, the 4 0'clock bus is inevitable.
I usually hate getting up early mornings, but on the particular day, I had thought of wearing a new shirt, one I bought the day before. That was incentive enough to get myself up quickly and I had that strange feeling of confidence neat linen gives.I walked down to the stop some 15 min. early .

I was all alone and I had a sense of satisfaction in the feeling that I was doing my job and everyone was asleep . [I thought of some poetic line which said 'men who build the nation are the men who toil when all others were asleep, though 'asleep' I know means something else]
I expected the bus to be full. It was. But, I did'nt anticipate that I would'nt even get space for my legs. The bus was so full. I really had a sense of tranquility, though. [The sense of accomplishment]

I could see different kinds of people, most of them,lost in themselves,too bothered to care about people around. Most of the people who were standing were disgusted with their awkward positions, though they understood that there was really no escape. They expected people to get down at each stop, instead it turned out to be the other way around. I was'nt trying to sleep. I was trying to fight sleep actually. So, I looked around and my attention was caught by a beautiful girl (The last thing I would expect on such a bus).

What amazed me was her near elated expression on her face. Her eyes were remarkable. Really remarkable. I had a vague feeling that I had seen her somewhere (which I know usually kicks up when you see such girls). I kept staring at her. I kept staring at her. I kept at it.I n, forearly 4 hours could not take my eyes off her.
She had a costly mobile. So, I guessed should have been some restless software engineer. She was in quite an unattractive dress, though her looks made up for it. All through the journey she did'nt even throw a cursory glance at me,which I promptly attributed to my incompetence to charm people into attention. But, desperately wanted to create a situation an talk to her. I though of all excuses, but ultimately could'nt pump my courage to do it. I only hoped she would get down at my place.

She did. I felt joy. Shortlived though. I followed. (Continued...)

Why did I start blogging?

I started this because everybody around me seem to be doing this.
I sometimes wonder because most of the things I do are because
that is the trend and everybody keep doing it which is contrary to my
objective in life- to do something no one has done.
Anyway, I wanted to create a web page- blogs seemed to be the easiest thing, though I did'nt know what they actual meant. Dictionary gave me this thing.

blog
noun
1.	a shared on-line journal where people can post diary entries about their personal experiences and hobbies; "postings on a blog are usually in chronological order" [syn: web log]

Ok, I get that blog is where you express your views (Read: where you put pseud)
Right,here we go.
I am Mr.Pseud-putter.
Welcome aboard.