P.S.

Serenity. With Lisa Gerrard on the speakers croning the Gladiator soundtrack.

I see I've become dictated by noms. Things are worth anything only if their name is recognizable, only if its title is catchy and it has an intelligent ring to it.

How mournful I always seem. That has been a recurring theme on this blog hasn't it? Something that talks of old memories, lost days, lost loves, things that make me feel a sort of voidlike feeling that I express in my stunted vocabulary. Memories are great to blog about. It starts off with the fact that one would have to compress days, months and years of feeling and thought into little boxes of memory back in your head that you can't even swim in for a long time. Memories are punished, relegated and put away.
One must 'move on'. Into the same everyday; into the same people - for most part, into the same places - for most part, into the same you - always.
Into the same mourning, the same black veils that don't change their texture or film-like transluscence. Into the same bright, open sky, with the same 'buildings in the distance', the same people you sit next to on a lone bench and look at with a lost gaze in your eyes - speaking of another day dead and gone.
Does a day die when it's over? One can't stop time even if they stand in much the same way, with the same person and hope with all their might that the moment will not pass them by. That a cell-phone will not ring. Afraid that a teasing voice will call. That the sky will suddenly swallow up the sun. And the day will be over. And what will remain is something that you can tamper with, if you dare to, if you need to.

I think I blog (or used to) because I wanted it to remain somewhere else besides my head. I wanted to surrender the power that I had to alter my memories and at the same time evened out the high of reliving the moment by transferring it, converting it into a bunch of words and pushing it down on virtual paper.

I guess I also blog because Bhavin kept persuading me to. Thought it was only fair.
After Tia Maria.

Mysore's an eyesore.

Alright,
not quite.

Eyesore's for
the bored.
Else it's a city
of lore.

My city, of all cities.
That will remain my own
for few will claim it.

Shuttling between various
towns, in trains that carry us,
these vacations keep me
actually hoping to see my city.

Chennai, it was first, where I met
dear Kommie. Was a day, so didn't fret.
Bangalore, next. And fulfilled some duty.
But came back home with a grin all toothy.

Goa, the holiday spot - the bitch was
at the beach. And two days did pass.
Karwar, next. Memories were made.
Stopping at B'lore now. "Home!", I cry, all said,
and done.

But why and what I do there, I have not explained.

• Traverse forgotten public parks and play on the swings and the see-saw and slide.
• Dig up random numbers on the phone and meet with so many homies who're still home. And get them to buy me lunch or coffee. Oft unsuccessful, but trying's always good, nevertheless.
  
• Sit in the darkness of my house all day and either listen to blaring music on those distortive, old speakers and gallop across random sites on the Internet with dear old StumbleUpon, or, in our huge hall on the couch, read the newspaper, get a friend to come and sit with me while we munch away the snacks in the big red box and watch TeeVee (I still say that) and complain about moronic politicians and stinking filmstars.
  
• Go to Planet X, drink beer, play air hockey. Does one need more to life?
  
• When parents are around, moolah ain't much of an issue. That's one thing I love about Mysore. No budgetary worries. Width worries are due, though. At the hip ain't hip.

Addendum: I need to find topics I can work on for an Economics project that must have
to do with a legal perspective upon it. Any websites or links or any such help
of the kind will be so appreciated you'll be sorry you're just an Internet friend
of mine who cannot actually get the better of the me in flesh-and-blood and
receive an embrace in gratitude and more.

Bawd's Bawls

I was tagged, as I usually am this time of the year. When people get off work for longer stretches of time, and they find more and more engrossing uses of the Internet - and check their address books - it's time to tag!
So I was supposed to write about 5 things that I love doing in a city that I love.
Now this will require some thinking, because up until a while ago, I did like Mysore - but besides the fact that the place bugs me at the moment, I probably wouldn't be able to think of 5 things I pursue that are very different from each other.
And I wouldn't write about Calcutta (although that has been home for almost 4 months now - because a majority of my activities happen within campus and it just wouldn't be fair on the reader to indulge in stories of activities therein. Also, Bhavin wrote of Cal, I will be slightly different.)
Baud, do I have to write about 5 things I love doing only in one city? Since I don't seem to have cherished memories of even 5 things in a single place, I'll do a random 'things I like doing in places I've been' thing, shall I? I should actually be let off even without reprimand since I revived this blog that had received the dementor's kiss a hundred and more days ago.
But y'know what? I'll do the tag in the next entry. I'm home for the holidays right now; after a hardly gruelling semester at college - and am perpetually on the net. For days, sometimes. I have to find something to do too, like those intellectuals with their keyboards and their address books. Next blog entry will be more interesting. Stck with me, kay?

Girl, you'll be a woman soon...

It's been...whoa, 88 days since I blogged. And even now this is all I got.

Wow.

'tis sad.

A wave out to my blog readers, if you still visit and all.

Ah well.

It took 6 hamburgers, scotch all night, nicotine for breakfast just to put me right...

**How Kaavya Vishwanathan borrowed, published, made $500,000 and then was publicly humiliated.

Sheesh, she really thinks plagiarism is that easy?

“I must have internalised the books (Sloppy Firsts and Second Helpings by Megan McCafferty ) and used concepts, manners of speaking to fuel my own book”

Ha!

Now the skank got her due. I still have a chance to be the ‘first one’ then. Yay!

**My first day completely alone in Bangalore.

Zilch. Nil.

Kay, lemme start again in an effort to pen a few words of truth and experience on a day that I felt myself overawed with the sights and sounds in my surroundings, on a day when I felt myself overabundant with literary potency, and I rootle for words, I do.

My favourite memory in B’lore has always been the Planet M in the busier part of Brigade Road, where you put on your headphones to listen to the latest in the pop/rock section and you gaze out the glass screen to witness and absorb throngs of people, all moving, not going anywhere in particular, colourful, loud things, creatures, shiny happy people. (That one phrase is so apt for what I wanna describe, thank you REM)

I sit on a bench overlooking M.G Road as I write this directly opposite the erstwhile Plaza theatre, now stripped of every trace of a bubbling hangout.

Just a while ago, sipping on some lemon ‘n’ iced tea (again at Brigade’s, the CD that’s in the interior somewhere) I read a bit of Papillon and felt so blissful as I hadn’t in a long time, or maybe hadn’t allowed myself to feel in a long time. Here the ambience was good, I sat there, alone for almost a good two hours; the only thing repeatedly interfering in this event of a fantasy being the most godawful hip-hop that they were playing on channel 204 of worldspace. (Although, the title of a song being ‘brother from another mother’ totally cracked me up)

Before CCD, I’d spent some time alone in Blossoms. I always spend time in either blossoms or Crossword whenever I come to B’lore. Delightful, wonderful way to spend the load of time on your hands. Bought ‘Half asleep in Frog Pyjamas’ by Tom Robbins, after having heard raves ‘bout it on the literature forum.

Also bought ‘The Tao of Physics’ by Fritjof Capra off the road. Promises to be a good read. I asked for Cuckold, but they were understandably sold out of them.

It’s 4:24 P.M on Tuesday the 25^th day of April, and my legs ache so, as I try to ward off lecherous glances from some not so innocuous looking men, and there I was thinking I could write about life.

About life. H’m.

If only one’s thoughts could filter as well, if only one’s sponge like mind would not understand and absorb everything there is to be listened to and most that people say.

(Addendum: I scout around for any sign of Boy, or at least Boy-like looking people. Lots of Boy-like looking people)

Life is too much to be expressed in a sentence. However clever the catchphrase may be. It is very inconsistent, to give one complete meaning and derive satisfaction from it.

It is gigantic enough to accommodate every single fucking one of our minds and mouths and bodies. No, wait, that’s the world.

As I absorb, (see aforementioned ‘absorb’) I notice how I have changed, how I have been changing, how I remain long convinced that there is no meaning, and yet invariably, instinctively ask, question and wonder enough to make a laudable effort at dredging up an answer/meaning.

I realize how I have grown more mature, more silent, intense over the past few weeks, a few laughs (and worthy ones they were) – and fewer smiles. I feel like I’ve deposited my sexual energy in deeper, darker places within myself.

Ah, now, Its begun to rain. Will have to stop.

Oh, how I wish my life would chronicle itself, a pen would just keep on writing on the who and what and why I am.

*Sigh*

A burst of creativity, and then some.

Unto greater Gods

Amid the teeming crowds,

I look not, for a face, a sign

I have gathered in mind’s eye

A semblance of what may never be.

The balance will always vacillate

Neither willing, nor caring enough

But when he comes dangerously close

I‘ll eject myself toward the luring void.

Beset by hope, assaulted by the ego,

Having no choice but to stand it all,

Be able to reverse the path of the word,

I will not weep, for in truth, I will not have seen.

Rewind , Play.

So that,

When I do muster the courage to leave

It won’t kill you.

So that,

When we realize forever is not forever,

You can be at peace.

So that,

When you or I bicker, cheaply,

We can laugh a while later.

And I want what I can have now,

What I can feel, touch and caress now.

If this moment, this very one,

Can be captured and pasted in all of my worlds

This is how I’m happy,

This. And no past, or present or future beckons.

A fleeting moment is my life’s preparation,

Pitch and toss is my game of choice

Stall my breath for more than an instant

And I shall be at your feet gasping;

Why then, would it interest you, what ‘morrow brings?

Tomorrow will be another today.

Hold my hand, now. Kiss my breath, now.

Give me my time, my time is now.

And outside this force-field, oblivion.

Things I can't resist making fun of: Sharad Pawar makes a public statement as the head of JD(S) saying "People may say anything, I still thing Deve Gowda was the best PM of India."

Female friends of mine who have boyfriends. They're a riot. All giggly all the time, and hooked to the slightest vibration of their cellphones.

Once upon a time there was a tavern....

I must get around to doing a full reading of the Bhagwad Gita sometime. I read sections; and the one time I read it without stopping was from the Amar Chitra Katha. From a blue Krishna’s speech bubbles. Oh well, I was 12 then.

The reason I wanted to read the BG was this revelation (I wouldn’t call it revelation actually, reminder more like) that came to me the other day when Mysore witnessed a huge downpour. Torrential rain, and beautiful, beautiful, and as Koze would say, Byoodafool.

I had to keep my moped inside which was parked beneath a tree opposite my house; so I went out to bring it in; but I got hesitant. Here I must give you a bit of trivia, I have never been one who is scared of the rain. I love the rain, penned poetry about it too – so there I was, rain lover, hesitant.

That hit me like a brick in between two eyes. Why on earth was I scared of going out into the rain? That I would dirty myself? Shame for one who used to jump in the puddles and play in the mud.

That I would slip and hurt myself? Pity for one who is so accident prone it could happen even as I’m on this chair. Point being, when it can happen anytime, there’s no point fretting or worrying about it.

That I would be struck by lightning? (I really thought about this too) Dumb. Not because it’s not possible; it is by all means. But because there’s a slim chance of it happening, and it isn’t predictable – so again, no point at all worrying about it.

I have become too careful. I watch my words, cautious enough to use the righteous and diplomatic terms. Not with my friends, acquaintances.

I have become sort of a sell-out. When and why do we start saying things we don’t mean to please other people? When was the last time I knew that what I was saying was exactly what I meant? ( I have the answer to that, actually. Last night with Ze Stick when I told her she wouldn’t score well in CET at this rate)

Ah yes; the revelation/reminder.

A while ago – I was quite a different person. I was dreamy, slow in some of my reflexes, and quite innocent. Most times I like that person more. Sure, now I deal with people better, now I’m more capable in terms of delivering, working. Now I’m more of everyone else. Then, I liked me. Not many people did, not many people understood it (not sure I did either) – but it was nice being muddled up, brunt of ‘fatso’ jokes, better than most at Math, trying to be good and failing miserably at it. Heh.

Then, I was more connected with nature. Now, I’m more connected with people. I think you can tell which alliance was more appreciated. Once I aggrandized my materialistic wants, my spiritual side, whatever there was of it, was piqued. (I checked – pique is to offend) And all the while, I felt I was doing right, humankind is superiormost I believed. And we cower, we hide, we fear nature.

That’s why I wanted to read the BG; it has something about relinquishing your exterior, and transcending this world and attaining a state of spiritual harmony, which I believe strengthens your connection with nature. No, I’m not talking about moksha, I’m not talking penance, renunciation. I mean, going back to then, when we knew ourselves, and we were afraid of limiting ourselves, selling ourselves out for gain.

Then I would dance in the rain, I would play with the neighbourhood dog and bother about cooties only just before dinner.

Then, I didn’t want love, of course, I knew I’d be happy if and when I got it.

Then, I cried more easily.

Now, people that know me; know me. It’s not too hard, I ain’t good at hiding.
Now, I worry about being struck by lightning and other arbit shit.
I worry, like it’s a pastime.

I want, nay, I have asked for love sometime in the past.

I cringe when I cry.

Oh well, I was 12 then.

We ruin everything by growing up, don’t we?

What makes luna tick?

# This thing I saw on TeeVee,
Rani Mukherjee, in her attempt to kick off a bollywood dictionary - thinks Chevrolet is 'mindblasting'.
I thought self righteous suicide was restricted to Chop Suey.

# A tryst with the Law.
Not the law school kind. A different kind. Would like to go into the nuances, but as soon as I put my mind to typing, my fingers get cramps and simply refuse to do so.
So the gist. Sister and I, wild mood, Dad is at granny's place - we leave mom alone at home and take the car out at 1:45 A.M, pick up her friend even, and go around ring road until about 2:30 and then stop at a place. Put on some music and chit-chat. Battery gets low, beat gurkhas come by - enquire. We try starting the car, but it won't. They find it suspicious - notify the police, who come by as well. They talk to us, freak us out completely, and raise thick, bushy eyebrows at two attractive (a-hem!) (I assure you, even in person, you would not disagree) girls with guy. To top it all, friend of sister's gets brilliant idea of not sticking to truth but making up obscure story. So we do. And get caught in our own web. Tension is cuttable with knife. Time: 3:00 A.M. Finally, after a whole lotta pleading, and of course, the truth (which I was resolute on telling from the start, but somewhere around that time, the cat got my tongue) big burly police guy gets our car starting and escorts us home.
Major and heavy emotion abound at home. I feel rather stupid about myself.
Good memory to talk about on lonely fridays with old friends over a cuppa joe.

#Three movies over two days during twelfth boards
Rumor has it - Three words. No not 'Rumor has it', 'Don't watch it'.
Don't ever. In fact, i'll even spoil it for you. Girl suspicious of her roots, goes in hunt of her real father, who, turns out has slept with her mother and gramma. She sleeps with him too.
Yecch.
Oh, by the by, thankfully, he's not her real father. He can't have kids.
15 Park Avenue - Made me wonder when movies began being thought-provoking again. A refreshing change from the candy-floss crap populating the silver screen. A depressing feel of course. But poignant, and I find Konkona Sensharma's acting particularly commendable. Real movie. Very, very real. Which is why the closing is suspended abruptly. From what I made of it, the end was brilliant. But you go watch it, if you haven't.
By the way, little geography tid-bits from the movie - Park Avenue's in NY city, Palm Avenue's in Kol, Park Road is in Kol.
The Accused - Jodie Foster, good actress. Caught eye while surfing because of court scene. Good one again. About gang rape and stuff.

# Blogging during Boards!

eugh. So, I was tagged

aargh. i've been tagged. aargh. Pika, one day, one day i'll get you.

here goes my list:
oh btw, i won't be able to tag 8 people. the number of people that visit my blog is usually >1 but <2.>
1: It's a HE. In moments of drunken stupor, it could also be a she. But those are just some moments.
2: He should be very intelligent. Someone that knows, is aware, and can knock the socks off stupid jerks with just his words.
3: He should be passionate. His choice of work, even his hobbies. Passion invokes a kind of caring. Plus, goes without saying, he should be passionate about me.
4: Should love me for who I am (yada, yada) what I do, I should be very, very, very comfortable in my skin around him. We should be great, if not best, buddies.
5: Wear spectacles. (That is such an amazing turn-on for me) Must smell good. And have this awwwwesome voice. (That's turn-on no.2)
6: Loves travelling, music, must be a voracious reader, an excellent debator, someone that can defeat me, but please oh please not too easily. (Don't be surprised if i end up with someone in Law School on these very accounts)
Good dancer, interest in drama and playing a music instrument is a huuuge plus point.
7: Should keep me in splits. That's the only way to deal with a sourpuss like me. Just the right amount of humour, and cocky silliness is an adorable mix.
8: Freedom. That's what we both should hopelessly believe in. And trust, care, love, beauty follows.

Did i miss anything? Doubt it.
Oh, this wouldn't be a criterion, but no harm asking for a good kisser, non?

Rules:
Rules of the game are …
1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different points of their perfect lover.
2. Need to mention the sex of the target.
3. Tag 8 victims to join this game & leave a comment on their comments saying they’ve been tagged
4. If tagged the 2nd time, there’s no need to post again.

wokay, monk, if you're reading this, do it.
Pika, you've already done it.
arka, you're not reading this are you?
B'lore guy: not too interested? I won't force you.
Ooh, yes Vikas and Starrgazerr - do take the time.

and february made me shiver...

That's a picture of my first ciggie. I tried it on my birthday, b'day post can be traced back to February 12th.
It was stupid, and fuzzy and horrible. I don't wanna do it again. At least for a long time.
Today, went out with Nick and got drunk, on a beer.
It was nice, I let go for once, y'know? Nick is one person I can trust totally. We actually came close to doing something couply twice. Once near the golf course, and once on the way back, on a deserted road where he (a-hem) got down to pee.
Not that we're attracted to each other or anything. Just that we were both being silly, and silly felt like the way to go. OH, btw, the reason I went out and got drunk was to celebrate my entry into NUJS!!!
I got the 23rd rank, but not officially, 28th serial number on the list. I got the eleventh highest score, 125 on 180.
The Boy called and told me. Oh, if i haven't notified my blogpals yet, boy and I are talking. Like things are hunky-dory. Not relationship hunky-dory, but friend hunky-dory.
So, today's happy day for me.
I'm feeling all light and breezy. So don't expect feeling or sense from me.
I'm just soooo ummm...
had Tropicana's guava juice, and even cheese chilly toast at P-X.
Getting fat. But still so light.
Blithe spirit.
Fly forever, bad girl.

Diary of a young girl

My preps were alright, although, I had started at 5:00 P.M and had stretched it upto 12:00 A.M in the night, (obviously which enormously leisurely breaks in the middle) which was when I decided 7 hours is too long for about 14 experiments. But even then I hadn’t got it firmly in my head, I couldn’t relate to the picture of the apparatus in my head the stuff I was reading about.
I stayed up till 2:00 A.M. doing this and that, and then went on the net (again). I’m telling you, this is addiction, if anything is.
I languished for about 40 mins, eM’d got a tattoo, inkblot’d written many love songs – some of which are so, so poignant; if I was still bitter about the past, I’d be crying buckets now.
Anyway, I finally got around to sleeping at 3:00 A.M, and I wasn’t anxious about waking up, for I’d had a pretty relaxed day and was well fed and rested. I had my physics final laboratory exam at 9:00 A.M, which gave me about 3-4 hours of sleep.
I asked my sister to wake me up, and blissfully dreamt away.

7:03 A.M
Dad: You’re supposed to have an exam today aren’t you? What’re you still doing in bed?
Me: (wrapping the sheets a little closer round myself) yeah, Aisha said she’ll wake me up. Leave me alone

***Blurry dreams***

8:35 A.M
Mom: What time is your exam Nia? (Nia: her nick for me)
Me: It’s at 9, lemme be. I didn’t sleep well last night.
Mom: (sharp gasp) What? Its 8:40!
Me: What the..? (And I could just stop myself from saying the f--- word)

***Blurry reality***

8:55 A.M

I got sis to drop me, I was a bloody wreck by the time I got to college.
I did a bit of pretentious, shoddy revision, y’know, the kind where nothing really goes into your head, but it seems to calm your psyche a little?

9:15 A.M
Teacher: You picked the tangent galvanometer, go over to table 3.

9:45 A.M
Thankfully, this was one experiment I’d actually enjoyed working, so I knew it pretty well. I had the formulae, the procedure, the circuit diagram and the tabular columns all drawn up and ready.
I got it checked by the external examiner who gave me a glance and asked me to write neatly.
I trudged back to my table to make the circuit connections and perform the experiment, and in five minutes I began to black out, and come back.
My white knuckles held on to the bar below the table for dear support; I was shaking, sweating, inexplicable things were happening to me. I shut my eyes for one long minute, and held the coil of the T.G in my hands to align the pointer needle.
And I fell on it. No typo. I fell on the coil.

The EE was standing nearby, and he got the lab attendant to sit me down, and give me some water. I actually thought the bottle of water was heavy! By this time I was sweating profusely, and getting the faintly feeling. It’s this thing when you feel sleep is so overpowering you just cannot care about anything else. I just wanted to curl up and snore right there.
The EE told me to take my time and be calm, he told me not to worry or get too tensed. I yawned at him.
In my head, I was teetering between telling the teacher I just wanted to go home, or doing the experiment and heroically triumphing at it. The egotist in me finally took the latter option.
So after about 10 minutes of sitting, drinking water, and watching other people do their experiments and look over their shoulders at me from time to time, I stood up to turn on the switch and record the ammeter readings.
I felt the barf rise up from my stomach. I desperately looked around for a sink, found one, ran to it, and threw up massively. I threw up for 2 minutes straight. The lone chocolate I’d had the night before seemed to have made its exeunt. I hadn’t eaten anything since 2:00 the previous night.
But puking made all the difference. I felt much better, cleaner (don’t ask how), and fitter. Less faintly. I got the logarithm table, did my experiment, recorded the values, and got some fuckall value I didn’t even care to verify.
I submitted my paper, barely had the energy to walk down the stairs even. I met this girl I’d once bought lunch for. I went up to her and asked her to take me home, no questions nothing. Not even a hi.
She did take me home (Bless her!)
And I dragged my feet to my room, flopped down on the bed, and slept for an hour.

Since then, I’ve been doing nothing but talk about it; right now I’m typing it. And I’m getting people to do stuff for me for pauvre moi is sick.
Me (with bambi eyes): I wanted the Appy fizz if you’re going toward the supermarket…

Bam! A bottle of Appy fizz in the fridge!

Me: Can you get me some ice-cream? I’ve been feeling a little woozy, I think I need to cool my system (whatever that means!)

(Well, that’s pending. Sis isn’t back home yet. But I’m so gonna get it)

Parting shot: Turns out the value I got was right. So I rock! But not so much, my habits suck.

The rebel without a cause

17.

Friggin' old.

Although,
the thing that does matter,
Is the thing inside me
which is what my blog is all about.

one more year before I can take a car out, run over all the people that piss me off, and then drive off a cliff, and fall off an endless abyss.
Maybe like James Dean.
Maybe burning out is better than fading away.. yeah. (Thanks, Mr.Young. Forever Indebted)

peace out.

One of them now

I’m one of them now.

I feel stark sorrow and joy.

I talk in decipherable terms;

I’m civil, I wonder of harmless happenings

I have chained my neurons

To the mundane textbooks of today

I speak of winning, as if there is only one way

I dare not, of a path untrodden.

It pains me deepest, the thought that the switch

May be permanent, not sth guided by will

Become something I can settle for, be calmer with.

I used to wander, free, unbridled.

I would laugh, and cry, and my eyes would round

At the death of innocence

I have a pace, a path now. Did I ask for this?

Or did I not, and was it thrust?

Sadly, I may never know.

Much more sadly, even, I may never seek it.

I think, therefore I am single

Yes, I know I haven't blogged in a while. But like you care, you know?

Nobody cares.

I'm all alone in this dark and dingy soulless world.

waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah-haaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

k. moment's over.

Thing is, I'm blogging also, under this new URL - being on the law website. Its really cool. Called Lysergic Acid Diethylamide

5 points for those of you who can correctly tell me what Lysergic Acid Diethylamide is, and which are the two awesome bands they can be associated with.

All for now.

G'day!

Edit: It is nice to have someone to talk to, 's all am saying.
Weird coming from me, but I hope everyone finds love.

Mon premiere Accident de Voiture

For those lesser mortals, that, translated into english means "My first motor accident", which I had today (with self as causative factor). Of course, I have been in other accidents - one which I was in because of my sister, we hadn't indicated that we were turning to the right and then this guy in a luna was speeding, he banged into us and we lay on the footpath dazed and out of our senses. I had a deep cut down my right foot where I could see my own fat cells. (The one thing about accidents and wounds is that they don't actually feel so bad as they sound when you're explaining them to someone; so its more brownie points really) And my sister had this humongous gash down her leg, because of the scar of which she refuses to wear skirts and capris to date. Of course, I believe its because she doesn't find many to fit her, but you know, truth hurts. That explanation always works better.
*I love scars. According to me, they're sexy. I'd love to see a long, hollowed stain on my body - kinda like testimony to my pugnacity. Now don't say being in an accident is not pugnacious, because I know its not, but I like the word, and I like the rebellious quality the word implies. So there.*
We were taken to our house, and my mom went hysterical. They pulled me out of the auto and I suddenly became unconscious. Then, typically, I lay there slipping from my mom's hands and someone sprinkled a bit of water on my face and I regained conscious.
And then at the dumbass nursing home, sis had to get like 10 stitches, we were brought back home and we got a stream of visitors. Friends, acquaintances, relatives all of 'em called on us, and brought us flowers, chocolates et al. (See, that's what I was talking about)

But this post was supposed to be about my accident today - which wasn't really as interesting an incident as the one above.
For one, I skidded on a pile of sand while turning to the left, and went rolling into the sand and landed up in front of this house that rears cows and sheep. The owners came out, wondering who scared their precious bovids, and there I lay - beaten, in all glory. So yeah, it wasn't very nice performing for an audience of cows and sheep which got scared away, and for another, I did crash close to a friend's place, and I went over to clean up. Now, this guy is so sweet he always gives me chocolates when I go over, and makes his prided tea. I don't fancy the tea very much, but c'mon, Ferrero Rocher! But today, he didn't have any. Today, when I was so shaken, and gloomy bout my fall and riding skills.
And I haven't got my tetanus shot yet, so I might get the disease.

Ho-hum. G'day y'all.

p.s. I hate this post, 'tis shallow, unfunny and 'now-why-exactly-do-I-visit-this-blog' reputation marring, but do leave comments reiterating the same.

Got stuff

Oh my. Oh my.

The internet,
while 'tis a many splendoured thing;
lures me to it, like a wafting aroma
like a flying biscuit to a hungry dog
I want to, I try to, I fail, at
getting away. Far, far from this madding place

While my time-table beckons,
like medication to a sulking patient
while the 'things to do' pile up
by the hour, by the day,
I am wasting, wasting, blogging!

And all that it is,
all purposes served,
all praises showered,
the internet will kill me
if naught else.

the king is dead, all hail the king!

My Life List

Funny, that around New Year’s I should stumble upon a scrap of paper called ‘My life List’ which I’d written when I was fourteen. Inspired by ‘Chicken Soup for the Soul’, I had prepared a comprehensive list of things which I’d wanna achieve, by setting myself a specific time. The colored italicised comments have been included by me, now. Oh woe is the cynic in me!

1. To Do:-
(a) Become 5’6” at least by tenth. (I have given up. No point at all, it’s genetic. I blame mother)
(b) Weigh 48-50 kg at 15, and 50-55 at 20 (umm...okaay then!)
(c) Let my hair grow till the waist without dandruff however long it takes.
(d) Clear my skin. (any tips, seriously?)

2. To read:-
(a) All the works of Shakespeare
(b) The books why, when, how, where etc., extensively and do a project on one of them.
(c) Time-life books that are at home.
(d) Histories of the world
(e) The biographies, autobiographies of great people.
(Some more to be added later)
3. To appear:-
(a) In a fashion show for my mom’s boutique (she’s closed it down now)
(b) On stage nationally, or internationally singing (no joke. This I will do)
(c) In some national/international quiz show.
(d) To star in a movie or video. (anyone auditioning? Mail me!!)

4. To achieve:-
(a) Typing speed of 55 wpm. (achieved! Thanks to internet)
(b) Plant at least 1000 trees before I’m 20 (all I can say now is “yeah, right”)
(c) Live without T.V. for a month (achieved! Thanks to internet)
(d) Get first rank somewhere, before I’m 20 (waaah!!:-( )
(e) Live without chocolates for a whole year
(f) Live without ice-cream for a year
(g) Get my poetry published in a book
(h) Get more than 93% in every subject in the boards. (it was close, but don’t see chances of even a near deja-vu now)
(i) Earn enough on my own, to buy a watch before I’m 15. (still counting)

5. To study:-
(a) Get a degree in some foreign University.
(b) At least 10 languages. (not so difficult really. If you count knowing how to say “hello” and “thank you” as knowing the languages)

6. To get:-
(a) /own a farm house.
(b) Rid of my specs someday (yaay!! Huzzah for lens! And mom’s overflowing coffers)
(c) A steady boyfriend – start my search around 17. (actually, {ooh!})
(now, what I meant by that, you can guess)
(d) One true friend. (I see now that I’m not the type to keep one, so that’s outta the window)
(e) In touch with all the people I know. (really, I was so much wiser then)

7. To clean:-
(a) My room once and for all so that its never dirty before 2002 ends. (is it 2006? Already?)
(b) The rubbish next to my house (well, the parthenium does stuff to my skin, and I really don’t like the
smell…)
8. To write:-
(a) at least 100 poems. (I seem to have used the phrase “at least” with utmost callousness!)
(b) The most funny plays. At least 8-10. (see??)


AND FINALLY, EVERYDAY, DO ONE THING THAT I HATE DOING. BUT IT SHOULD BE GOOD FOR ME.

P.S. (as is obvious I didn’t know what p.s. meant back then) Be proficient in wood carving, clay modeling etc..

Wham! - A confession?

I broke tradition in a big way this year; it was the first year in my life that my family didn't go out and party to ring in the oncoming year. Instead, we all stayed home like a bunch of old...i donno, non-party goers.
Ooh! Did i mention? I'm lovin the silence now. Silence, as in, not hearing myself speak. Not hearing anyone preach. Just listening when i want to know. I even find it cumbersome to open my mouth, to talk to strangers, people i'm not particularly fond of. Is my energy fizzling out? Am i losing what i found so novel, and cute about myself? Am I not cute any longer?

All i know is, i'm at peace with myself. I know what it is that i'm doing. And, boy, it takes a while to be able to say that to yourself honestly, and heave a sigh. All that i do, is to achieve some unseen, unpredictable end.
And i'm feeling so totally emotional.
I miss things being perfect. Even if they weren't, kill me if i sound weird, i liked saying that they were. So, if i liked it that much to deceive myself - it must've been something huh? It was a lot, to be so intimate so soon with a guy - share all secrets, speak about EVERYTHING under the sun. Well, almost. I miss knowing that i can screw up and snigger. Now, even if i can, the charm in sniggering is lost.
Its been a while since someone told me I was intelligent, or sexy (and truly meant it) and made me glow inside like i'd swallowed a lamp or something.
I guess i went wrong. I spoke the wrong things, bickered about the cheapest of stuff, was petty, timid, and so dull at times. I was everything i hated being, didn't want to be, but i REALLY don't know why that happened. Why things took such a bizarre turn, that i had to feel like that.
I wish i'd been more honest.
I wish i'd been more of a teenager, a normal, less schizo teen.
I wish i was better at handling moneys and stuff.
Fuck, it doesn't even feel like regret now. Just some stuff, like pending chores from yesterday. Things i know i will eventually have to do, will do, but will be pissed off, and depressed in the process of doing. Like now, I'm not depresseddepressed. Its gone far below, just to be a throbbing memory that resurfaces as a headache sometimes, but i still make jokes, poke fun, send my dumb girl classmates into fits of laughter.
In fact, i wouldn't wanna know me, if i was me. But then again, i can't do anything else, but this now.
I'mana make a better post in a while, maybe tomorrow. During the day tomorrow that is. Feeling so woozy.