What if all your dreams come true?
What if you considered yourself a “commoner”, and one day you are shot to fame, and the world realizes that you are a star?
This is the story of Manasa Varanasi, 23, crowned VLCC Femina Miss India 2020 this February.
Her cousin Advait Valluri is a friend and lives across the street from me. Advait and Manasa grew up together and talked regularly right until the night before her winning.
The ratio of people who spin-off into a self-owned business to those who dream about doing it is notably tiny. The first and the most important question that stops one from getting off the floor is clearly — “What should I do?”.
In fact, as long as you are willing to “Do something about it”, says Viswatez Repakula, a self-made entrepreneur, you don’t have to look far to generate money by making the world a little more perfect.
Here the story of Viswatez, an Indian immigrant from Anantapuram, Andhra Pradesh to Stuttgart, Germany, and a Project Manager from Porsche AG…
As of today, nearly everyone has an internet content venture. Fame, glory, and “the next-level” are on almost everybody’s day-dreams — whether they speak it out loud or not.
thefunnyauslander, an Instagram page by an immigrant in Germany, made an appearance on German TV, a step most people would call making the “next-level”.
The creator wishes to remain anonymous (read on to know why). I will not get into details of his person.
Here is the story of thefunnyauslander — an Instagram channel making viral memes about immigrant life in Germany. …
Hi. Nice to meet you, what’s your name?
(Also, n2mywyn is my current ear-worm. Feel free to let it play in the BG while you read further.)
I’ve recently established a foolproof benchmark of self-evaluation.
I ask myself this: “Will this bite me in the backside when I’m famous?”. Think about how would it look on the title page of The New Yorker.
It is what I ask myself when I am about to do what the demon on my shoulder just asked of me. (happens way more often than it should, btw).
Yesterday, he ordered me to give myself…
In one gut-wrenching moment in the documentary “Cuba with a Cameraman” a four year old Cuban girl in New York gets to go to see her grandmother in Cuba for the first time in her life. The girl’s mother breaks down in tears of joy on reuniting with her mother.
They were Cuban exiles whom Fidel Castro allowed returning to the country for a visit.
I am a free woman.
Unlike a Cuban exile, I can go home whenever I want. But there is a catch. I can’t.
When I see my German friends visit home for Christmas, easter, weekend…
I have nothing against love or romance. Everything we care about is just proof that we are not just futile little robots running around until our time is up. Love and romance too, are among them.
When I was younger, the prospect of finding love seemed to be all-consuming. Poets, philosophers, movies, and music did nothing to change this.
As I am turning 30, I see that love (romantic or otherwise) is just another thing you feel. …
It was hard not to well up from watching Friends Reunion, just like in the last episode.
F.R.I.E.N.D.S were perfect. The perfect sync in group chats, latching on to each other’s ideas and reacting like they shared the same brain; heck, even breakups are very fixable.
I watched the reunion with wide pupils, a tilted head resting on my palm, and on my lips a smile. I believed every bit of what everybody said. Just like a part of me believed that the story on the show was real.
If my life was a show just like friends, It would…
Endless, vast, magnanimous.
From out there, it is all the same. Blocks of concrete, lines of asphalt, swatches of green, and dribbles of blue.
Up close, the concrete has cracks, water has ripples and people have characters.
From out there, I can ignore. I could choose not to see the detail. It is one large unit of insignificance.
But I’m not out there. I am a person, too close to the terrifying detail.
I hear every ticking second, I see every blade of grass on the patch, I squeeze my eyes shut and clench my teeth as I ride across…
Don’t do those dishes. Hang up the laundry later. Hear your phone buzz twice and ignore that message. Let the din in your head play. Give in, and let it be.
Wake up in the morning, say your goodbyes. Leave. Take your book with you. And your music. And then don’t read or listen.
Go off for hours, don’t find out where you are. Fall asleep on a park bench. Forget the tan. Let your hair brush against the wood. Who cares?
Go far. Drive, ride, walk or swim. Sit idly and stare at things. Laugh and let strangers wonder…
Did you ever read or watch something that made you feel physical tenderness towards another creature? Like there is a fold in your chest and the flesh on your cheekbones wants to droop a bit and let a tear roll down?
What if reading about real animal science can make you feel that instead of watching Ratatouille?
Few areas of research are as humanly rewarding as working with animals and trying to understand them. For most of the 20th century, humankind forewent this opportunity and regarded animals as unthinking and unfeeling automatons acting on mere instinct.
So how are animals…
I laugh at stuff for their pointlessness and smile at others because they don’t know. | I live in Germany and help them make Audis. |