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19 febbraio For You.
My mirror, pokey and gunman.. Love,
The Beast
23 dicembre Argh. Hmph. Sigh.Desperate. Stupid. Lowly.
Whatever anyone might have said, the aforementioned adjectives should NOT be affixed before my name or any pronoun referring to me unless: - There is proper punctuation in between - It is said in jest/good humour - You strongly believe I would forgive you for doing so Why? Well, because Neha S.Singh does NOT like it. Also, she does NOT want to like it. And also, she will not tolerate it. Again, Why? Because she isn't all that.' Note: In case you nodded your head
when your lines of vision coincided on the third condition, it will take a LONG
period of time.
Winter Solstice.
I feel HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY!
ORANGE SKY Alexi Murdoch
Well I had a dream ……… …When
I am alone
Today’s moody confession: IMAGINATION TIME #2 It’s dark outside. You feel cold and warm at the same time. It’s cushy and comfortable in there. You snuggle in and hold on to something. It’s soft and cuddly and is a treat to your olfactory lobes. It’s almost like you’re hugging someone special or like sinking into your favourite fluffy pillow. You can even feel protective arms around you, caressing you… You can see the vehicles going by, the man with the gun on the other side, the trees the lights and everything bright around you. Then you close your eyes and your head is spinning. You have a bad headache and you are terribly tired. Then you open them again. You are in a whole new world. You are now wrapped in the darkness’ soporific blanket. You can see bright shining, moving stars which are so weirdly and familiarly orange. You are sleeping on sweet smelling, satiny grass. You feel beautiful, secure and satisfied, almost like this is what you’ve been waiting to do all this while. You smile and you feel your entire self smiling. It’s the best you’ve felt in ages and you’re loving it… Sounds fancy? I know, I know. …Then you look up, it’s time to leave.
22 dicembre Uh. Umm. Ugh.I feel - Like a BIG fool - Like crying - Disappointed - Dizzy - Like a leaking sewage tank - I - Cried on the way back home - Fought tears for over two hours in school - Ate too much of chocolate - Want to sleep for a few days - Want to get it back
I think I’m getting really good with the pretending thing; my mum just asked me why I am in such a GOOD mood. (Yay.)
On the nice side, - It’s Holiday time!!! - People are in town!!!
" The day I almost flunked the subject that made me draw a caliper She made me Santa’s lil helper Make them her one, and her one too, she said, without turning into a shopper Hey, what does she think I am, I thought, jobless Betty Cooper? No, no, no So obvious a fact, Then how can she not know? " 20 dicembre December blues.
I learnt.
Excerpt from an August post: - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I AM A ROCK
- Simon and Garfunkel
A winters day
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Contrary to what I had expressed in August, maybe I should be a Rock. **reads lyrics. Umm.. Maybe I'll go with being a Pumice Stone instead. Yeah yeah!
Pumice stone!
Today’s moody confession: 1. 1.A winter's day It’s December and I am shivering in its noon. And yes it is notably ‘deep’ but what it isn’t is ‘dark’. It’s bright as light could be and as hued and as an old pond. It’s blue, green, dirty white and brown. I am NOT alone. I have the best company one could ever have. I am grateful for it. And uh, no snow here. Pity pity.
2. 2.I've built walls I can see the walls growing like a beanstalk. I want to axe it’s tender stalk now, before it hardens but I’m feeling too slothful and timid. I need friendship. I need more than I think I need it. It’s laughter and loving I need. And the importance of their need I can more than fathom. It’s laughter and loving I’ve been bountifully been showered with. More than I suppose I deserve. And I love you for that.
3. 3.Don't talk of love Talk of love. I want to hear the word more than I’ve ever heard it before. It needn’t be in my memory. It’s as fresh as the radiant green grass bathed in the dew. The tears are delicious. You don’t forgo the chance to dig into hot spicy chat, because it scalds your tongue and gets the water streaming down your headlights, do you?
4. 4.I have my books Yes, books distract. Poetry engages. Newspaper distracts, engages and also informs. Imagination liberates. Using ‘armour’ as a noun would be anachronistic. As a metaphor, it would allude to my Gunman. The Armour protects. I love my Armour. It’s big and shiny and distracts plenty. I say I’m intangible. Remember to respect that but more importantly, REMEMBER that.
5. 5. And a rock feels no pain A rock feels the pain. It tries to pretend like it doesn’t. It uses its rough and tough appearance as a guise. But it’s dumb. It doesn’t know that the cracks are appreciably noticeable. An island cries. It weeps profusely but silently in isolation. The water around it is testimony.
07 dicembre *Mirror Images*August. September. October. November. Four months. The best ever. Four months since I put up anything in this space. I should’ve. Four months later, on a cold winter evening which happens to be today I realised why. The blog was for me. Umm...it is for me. It was originally written and is still being written with only one reader in mind. And that reader very coincidentally happens to be me. Selfish? Yes. But I don’t think you are really that interested so I guess it’s okay. I write what I like to read. Yes, now you can definitely ask me why I like to read this kind of nonsensical bunch of crap. And I will say, ”Hey..It’s my writing. If I don’t read, who will?”, in the same tone, manner in which R.Green would say ,“Heyyy..Leave the poor kitty alone..kitty kitty”. Ugh. Shoving hypothetical reactions aside, a second was all I took me to reason the aforementioned occurrence (though it did take like 120 days for me to start doing the thinking). The need for me to write for me(same me) to read would arise from the compelling need to be listened to. So I wrote, which was like talking. And then I read which was not just like reading but also reading between the lines. The latter I had/have to do because of generous usage of metaphors, allusions, puns and the like which aid in censoring and also impart a good reading experience (i.e. ONLY for me). Then everything changed. Everything. I bought a mirror that night. Uh..I didn’t buy the mirror, the mirror bought me. No. Uh. I just got the mirror. Somehow. This mirror is special and not just because it makes me look good, from every angle and inside-out(err..I dunno what it’s supposed to mean but I like the sound of it). It’s a walkie-talkie kind of a mirror. It can talk and walk(I think). It listens to everything I say and makes it sound good. It says everything I want to hear without making it sound bad. Sounds nice, doesn’t it? Obviously it will…Why? Because, it IS nice. But my mirror isn’t ugly and greenish-blue like the one from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs. It’s pretty and ‘sweet’ and heavy. And I like it. I like the way I look in my mirror. I like the way I sound in it. Do I like the mirror only for the way it makes me feel? I still haven’t figured that out yet. But when I think of the answer as a ‘yes’, I feel terribly guilty and selfish. I really hope it’s a ‘no’. There has to be something else..But that something else doesn’t have a proper form as yet (here I'm assuming it exists)for me to recognize..so till then I’ll just keep thinking of BOTH possibilities. To sum it all up, I love my mirror. Sounds crazy and scarily imaginative? Oooooooooh. I like the sound of it. And also, I like the perplexed + digusted + ‘OMG she-needs-help’ expression on your face. It’s okay to feel what you are feeling now. It’s perfectly okay. **evil fake smile (imitates Agent Kim’s [ Reference: Prison Break]). I think you need a mirror too. Everybody needs one. Hey, don’t ask me where I got it… I don’t really know. I think I found it in school..I’m not sure. So..you want a mirror? Umm…I’d say look around. When you see the reflection of yourself which you like, you’ll know you found one.
Today’s moody confession: I hate the way I handle the mirror sometimes. So roughly, so clumsily, so flippantly. I take it for granted. Drop, abuse, scratch, leave it out in the rain, scribble on it randomly. It doesn’t complain. It just doesn’t. I feel bad. Then I apologise. Then it’s okay. Everybody is happy. Then I do it again. I keep cycling the vicious cycle. Oh. Oh. Oh. And yes, I love winter!!! And my baggy sweaters, sweatshirts!!! And Chotu!!! And me!!! And my enflamed notebooks!!!
**Mirror, mirror on the wall I wonder what crap fills that doll. [PLAGIARISED; Source: His Highness]
**Mirror, mirror on the wall Why don’t you just let me fall?
**Mirror, mirror on the wall When you walked, did I crawl?
**Mirror, mirror on the wall I want a knife that kills them all. [PLAGIARISED; Source: His Highness]
**Mirror, mirror on the wall You always make me feel so small
**Mirror, mirror on the wall Couldn’t I have been a lil more tall?
**Mirror, mirror on the wall Why do I have to be so prawl?
**Mirror, mirror on the wall Thank you for this, that and all
**Mirror, mirror on the wall I love my mirror and well, that’s all!
22 agosto When duty Calls.Today's cheerfully moody confession: Now, the whole thing is that I'm feeling profoundly happy. I feel great. And happy. Yes, happy. I can't sulk or even pretend to be sulking for long. I can't be angry or upset for long. I can't get irritated or annoyed easily. I feel buoyant. I feel light. I feel bright. I feel like a kite. I feel like I'll soon become invisible at night.
But then i feel sad too sometimes. Just sometimes. Especially when i see 'g2g's. But for other things too.
Rhyming the rhymes! 14 agosto Bits and pieces of flashes. Slush. SolitudeI’ v e a l w a y s f e l t l o n e l y, e v e r s i n c e I r e m e m b e r.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - When I’m older, I want to travel. See new places. Explore. I’d like to go around some unknown, untried corners. I’d like to walk around there by myself and not have to wear a watch. Sit, stare and observe in silence. Reflect, cogitate, question. Imagine, dream, discover. It’ll be grand, won’t it?
One country. One city. One house. One school. I’ve had enough of it all. - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1991--- I was born in June. My dad almost died just before I was born - some fatal chemical reaction because of an expired tablet. They said his survival was a miracle. I was over a week old when he first saw me.
1992 Soni was born in November. I was just a little over a year old.
1993 Soni’s mum, my aunt, went back to New York. Soni was barely two months old. I had a baby in my house. Yay! A few days after Soni’s first b’day, Nani and Soni left for New York. I went to a crèche.
1994 Guddu was born in January.
I hated going to the crèche. Ma always lied to me saying she’d take me along with her and then even after all her assurances we would take that left turn. I remember that turn very well. That left turn. Then I started going to some nursery school nearby. I would go when I felt like it, come back when I wanted to. Then I would stay in my neighbour’s house. Sumithra Aunty had no kids. She’d cook whatever I ordered for. “Mickey”, “Fishy”, or “Chicky” she would ask. I would sit on the dining table like a haughty, lil princess and choose. Uncle would get a gift for me everyday single day. Once he got me a steel glass with a straw fixed. Another day he got me a plastic dog with wheels attached. His brother killed a house fly once. I was SO impressed. I could never get hold of one how much ever I tried.
Then I went to school. How I loved the place when I first saw it. Contrary to what the other kids did, I didn’t cry on the first day of school. But my mum did. My parents wanted to drop me in school that day. I was excited about going in that school-auto. They told the auto driver to drop me till my classroom and they’d come later to meet me. When they walked into LKG. ‘A’ they couldn’t find me. They looked all over the school. They still couldn’t find me. They hunted for the auto driver. My dad threatened to kill him. But that didn’t help. He told my mum all this was her fault, she shouldn’t have sent me to a school so far away from home. But that didn’t help either. They went back to the Kindergarten to check again. They looked around once more. Some plump kid was sitting behind the window. My mum pulled it aside. I was sitting there alone nonchalantly eating and dropping biscuit dust all over my new uniform. I liked this place!
I had only one friend in school. Monila. She was the first person to call for ME on my land-line. I remember wearing a yellow frock that day.
Then that night. I was wearing something pink that night. It was a Saturday. The first horrible memory etched in my mind. I should’ve stopped all that from happening. I didn’t. I still regret it.
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
I AM A ROCK
- Simon and Garfunkel
A winters day
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
I would stand behind Aunty’s gate in the evenings waiting for my mother and watch the ‘bigger’ kids play. I had presumed that they were my friends since I found no one else of my height. They would come over to give me chocolates. And they would pull my cheeks too. Twelve years later, they still do.
“When I’m big, I can play with them?” “They will be bigger then, you’ll get other friends.” “They will become bigger?” “Yes, even you will become bigger.” “Then I can play?” “Yes, you can. You’ll have lots of friends then. How many friends do you want?” “Full ten. Hum kal Cinderella jumble karenge aur Chicky khaenge.” “English.” “Uhh. Us will play Cinderella jumble and eat Chicky tomorrow.”
Then, during the end of that year, Nani came back with Soni and another ‘sister’. She also got LOTS of toys, dolls, chocolates. And books! She got SOO many books. Finally I had something new to read. I had got so bored of flipping through the gibberish India Today like magazines. These Disney books were more like it. And I had two playmates now.
I dunno why but I would still go to that crèche. Now my mum’s office was very close by. She would leave me there with a promise to ‘sign and come back’ to take me with her. I’d wait near the flag pole for hours sobbing uncontrollably. She’d never come. Those people would try to put me to sleep in the afternoon. Dark room. White bunk beds. White covers. I so detested that room. During the playing hour the ‘bigger’ kids there would go into the ‘playing room’ and play. They’d always lock me out. Then one day, one lil boy (who was as tall as I was) came up to me to ask why I was trying to see through the crack in the door. I said because I wanted to play with them too. He said he’ll play with me. Then we went and sat under a window ledge and played with those marbles he had. I never tried to go into the playing room again. Never again did they get a chance to lock me out.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - I always wondered how I could remember all this. Nobody remembers incidents that occurred when they were three of four, atleast not so vividly. There are so many other things I remember. I can’t type all of that here. - - - - - - - - - - - - -
1995 I was in the UKG. Soni would go to a nursery school wearing a brown uniform. Then two days after my birthday, my aunt returned from New York. She brought so many chocolates and games, toys, clothes, shoes and yes, more books! Then Soni-Guddu left. They had a new home now.
Then again I remember another Saturday night. I was wearing a white tunic. I puked on the mattress that night. I didn’t try to help even this time. Again, I still regret it.
I wrote my first own, original ‘writing’ then. On a four-ruled sheet (purple and pink lines), which I had pulled out of my note-book, I wrote a letter. I remember mummy showing it around to her colleagues. I recall thinking that she was feeling very proud of me...Of course I didn’t know that the word ‘proud’ existed then.
----2007
- - - - - - - - - - - - - When I was 4-5-6 I would wonder why I didn’t have company like Soni and Guddu did. Whatever happened, how much they fought, how many ever times they’d beat each other up and wail and complain and all that, Soni would play with Guddu and Guddu with Soni. Of course they would play with me when we were together, but we weren’t always together. When we got board-games, we would play them whenever we were together. All the other times they would play with each other, I would play with myself. I learnt how to play Chess with myself, Snakes and ladders with myself, Monopoly with myself, Life with myself and later on even Uno with myself! It almost seems as though ‘myself’ were an other person. Maybe ‘myself’ IS another person.
My mother never bought me Barbie dolls. I never even had stuff toys. My dad would buy lots of Gokulams and Champaks and Tinkles (never Tinkle Digest, because he said the print was too small) and colouring books and all that, but never Barbie dolls. I liked Barbie dolls. I would love dressing them up. Then my aunt bought me one. I would play with it for hours. I’d make up stories and make the other dolls, toys, bears enact them out. Love stories, terrorist attacks, travel stories, adventures, magic. Basically everything I had read about. My imagination was my best friend. - - - - - - - - - - - - -
I hated Saturdays. I always hated them. I still hate them. I was and I am still scared of Saturdays.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - I should’ve never started bottling things up. I should’ve had a friend near home. I never spoke again once I had decided(unconsciously) to keep it all mum. I regret that too. I can never trust anybody completely. I can’t get myself too. I never say things directly. I just can’t. I wish to be understood without me saying anything. But that won’t happen without effort from my side. I can’t get myself to trust anybody. I just can’t.
When It comes to my friends I think I listen more than talk to them. I never tell them the kind of things they tell me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. I desperately wish they’d ask me sometimes, you know, persuade me into opening up a little. That never happens. I get a feeling they are a trifle scared of me. I am capable of being extremely curt and giving fierce looks. One look and people back off. I’m really good at pretending. But you’d never find out how good I am. That’s because I can very efficiently pretend to not be good at pretending.
I indulge in a lot of Interpersonal Communication (Go Wikipedia); to the extent of it being on the borderline of turning into a dangerous disorder. But then, I am my own best friend. I can agonize myself worse than anybody could ever do and cheer myself up better than anybody else could too. Maybe then I shouldn’t say that I feel lonely. I have ‘myself’, don’t I?
I’m SO full of paradoxes, contradictions, extremes. It’s like being an amalgam of two starkly different elements. I am a total opposite of what I am. - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Today’s moody confession: 1] The first term of school this year was the worst time of school ever; full of such dirty, filthy things. I needed to take a day off today to put an end to it all. I needed to cleanse. Mummy did most of it for me. I knew she would, like she always did. I will have to start afresh from tomorrow. Yesterday was the zenith of all the disconcertment. I felt so dirty. Polluted. Soiled. I knew it would all fall today…after all it couldn’t get worse, could it? The day before yesterday was like heaven when compared to the rest of the maddening week. It felt so good. But I did nothing great that day. Eyeing it from the ‘fun’ point of view it pales in comparison with lots of other days. But it was a day that I’ll never forget. It was special in its own special way. A very special day. I still can’t figure out why though...I’ve been trying to solve it all and understand what made it so special but it’s not happening. Maybe I should just leave it. It’s perfect the way it is. You ask what ‘it’? I dunno. I really dunno.
*16th August :
I am very red-in-the-facedly admitting that I’m still thinking about this whole thing and I have still not figured out stuff but then I realized one other thing. Deepthi asked me the other day what my favourite part of the day was. I chose something randomly and then later last night I was thinking about it again. And no sooner did the thought enter my head, than I could see one umm flash or something.
After our great troop leader admonished me for ‘staring’ with a brusque “Stop staring”, I felt like a primary school kid being rebuked for talking in class. So I turned in front and fidgeted with the knobs in the front for a while trying to increase the speaker’s volume, again to be notified but our troop leader that the knob controlled the temperature. Red-in-the-face again I turned to pretending-to-enjoy the view outside through the translucent curtain formed by the drizzling drizzle. And then suddenly I felt very nice. The whole ride felt very nice. The entire day felt very nice. The whole feel felt very nice. (Crappy English, but still..). then I put my head out of the window, face upwards. The soft drops on my face. It felt beautiful. Yes the kajal I was wearing and all that must’ve got smeared, but I didn’t think of that until I went home that day. Anyway getting back to the ‘feel’. It just felt very very nice and yes, beautiful. Thank you, Troop leader. Thanks a LOT!
2] My mommy is the bestest. I should be more considerate towards her. I should stop accusing her. She takes it all only for me. I should be more tolerant. She hasn’t got any other outlet to give vent to all that anger and frustration. But atleast she’s got me as a punch-bag. I don’t even have that. I want to stop reacting. But then, I’m not a rock. I’m weak.
Im really getting lots of afterthoughts about this one(the first line under 2]). 11 agosto White flag bleached.Okay. So today I will not beat around the bush, or indulge in mush (Did I EVER do that?). I will just simply give this matter a push. I’m dying. That basically sums it all up. I’m dying. My immune system has given up completely. The white flag has been hoisted. I will be dead in a few days. I will no longer loiter around this place in a short while. I will be dead and gone forever soon.
Now, I’m presuming that the message had sunk in and you have your party cap on already, but before you go buy that bottle of drink, I’d like you to be a part of my will and to do so all you have to is give me your list and then you can go ‘Party like a rock star’ (Incase you haven’t heard that bit of “music”, I’d just say – Ignorance is bliss).
Moving on to more trivial issues, here’s a list of all the maladies/ diseases/ infirmities/ disorders that seem to have got the better of me:
- Firstly I was born mental. That doesn’t need no underscoring.
- Secondly, I’m still mentally deranged. Yes, I know you need no reminding, but then typing it was highly imperative (You know dying man’s last wish and all that balderdash).
- Thirdly, I’m at the moment suffering from a slightly uncommon form of common cold which involves severely diluted mucous flowing down the nostrils at frequent intervals of time but I’m still able to breathe in, and even out, more efficiently than usual.
-Fourthly, the ineludible fever is loitering around off and on too. (NOTE: ‘off and on’ and ‘on and off’ are two different phrases [duh] with different meanings. The first part I had figured out, but the latter half is what I was unaware of until recently).
- Fifthly, I can’t move even a finger once in a while. So much so that someone had to screw and unscrew my lenses during some nonsense Physics practical exam.
- Sixthly, my eyes have simply disappeared and are just about visible in the form of Voldemort-like slits. Not only that, the iris is painted red too.
- Seventhly, my ears are blocked, along with my throat. I can’t hear short-range sounds. But I’m turning hypersensitive to distant ones. And I sound like that alien in a pink short dress from ‘Dude, where’s my car?’
- Eighthly, like I had mentioned earlier, I suffer from Anterograde Amnesia.
- Ninthly, I’ve been reading poetry.
- Tenthly, I have absolutely no control over the coordination and locomotion part of my vital body activities. I fell down flat on my face though I didn’t actually trip over anything and scraped my knees and arms.
- Eleventhly, I guess my hypersensitivity to sounds and odours adds to my slightly Autistic behavior.
- Twelfthly, I feel like a wasp made of smoke.
- Thirteenthly, I’m also emotionally ill. The Great Depression has arrived again. Zio is definitely going to stay over for a long while this time.
- Fourteenthly, winter will arrive soon and the epidermis of the cells which form the outer most skin of my palm will start shedding, and I will be reduced to doing 'Lady Macbeth' like hand-scrubbing movements.
- Fifteenthly, My rib-cage is aching badly along with my brain and skull.
- Sixteenthly, I seem to have/show all symptoms of Malaria, the most important one being tiny red bumps all over my limbs.
- Most Importantly, I’m also so full of lethargy and I suffer from an OCD that involves inability to eschew exaggeration, amplification and the like.
And yes, I’m a Hypochondriac too.
29 luglio The Importance Of Being Idle.Umm…Ahem.
Ahem. Ahem. Ahem.
*Sneezes. *Rushes out, gulps down a glass of pure, purified, mineralized, drinking water (to ward off Lady Bad Luck and rushes back.
*Takes a deep breath. *Lets it out.
*Burps, bats eyelashes, smiles stupidly.
Good Night(or whatever time of the day it is)! Ladies and gentlemen. Boys and girls. Sisters and brothers. Fathers and mothers. And well of course the others, It gives me intense pleasure to see you here today. You are now witnessing (experiencing rather...) a very momentous moment in the history of mankind.
[Flourish] [More Flourish]
*Mouths: Why the hell can’t we have some louder and longer ‘flourish’?
[c_ _ _ _F L O U R I S H_ _ _ _{c} (Can you rotate letters on MS Word? If yes, then, how?)]
Now that your vivid imagination with the aid of my ineffective effort to get you into the ‘feel’ of this historic occasion has failed miserably, we shall proceed.
I would now like to thank Cauliflower. Why? Why because, - Cauliflower happened to listen to roughly 10 seconds of a certain song on vh1. - Cauliflower apparently fell in love with it. - The catch (that invariably follows the word ‘love’) being that he very conveniently could recollect only one word, ‘Sally’. - A successful search by this enterprising young man pinpointed ‘Don’t look back in Anger – OASIS’. - A public declaration of the success led to a double-click on the Lime wire icon. - Then the unavoidable downloadance of various songs by the same band occurred. - One of those many songs was ‘The Importance Of Being Idle’.
Now I see the cloud - which probably didn’t exist in the first place - clearing.
Though I had initially titled the song ‘The crater on the surface of a planet called Music’, it occurred to me later that the original title of the song was eloquent and profound enough to obscure other frivolous traits of the song.
So, now I begin.
·idle ˈaɪd l - Show Spelled Pronunciation[ahyd-l] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation adjective, i·dler, i·dlest, verb i·dled, i·dling, noun–adjective
The importance of being idle, my bored/annoyed audience, lies in discovering the importance of being idle, after actually experiencing it. Allow me to particularize.
Being idle is truly an enriching experience. And I am ‘enriched’ by it, so much so that I constantly pretend to not-remember the 954 billion important things I have pending to complete/do/say and instead, I choose to be idle. And the importance of ‘being idle’ lies not in the state or quality of being idle but in all the efforts one makes-unconsciously to some extent- to get rid of the ‘void’. My case sounds a little wonky here. It’s hard to learn and digest the fact that I consciously choose to be idle, so that when I’m idling, I subconsciously indulge in the inescapable efforts that are made by me to employ myself with something apart from sitting/standing and doing absolutely nothing. But what baffles me more is the question I put forth now: Why am I trying to assist you in comprehending all this, esp. when you are actually not interested? Well, I leave that question for you to answer. (Hello! Even you should be doing something around here, why should I always be the one doing all the talking and typing?).
All the things you could do/say/etc... when idle:- :Reflect on the anguish and agony you are experiencing as a result of continual inhuman treatment in the hands of ISC Physics.
:Repeatedly listen to songs like ‘Hey there, Delilah’ and ‘The Big Black Horse and Cherry Tree’. This state of affairs can be equated to being continuously nagged by your mum or sitting beside a drilling machine at work.
:Discover your true beauty/exercise your face muscles when making faces at yourself(needless to mention, with the aid of a clean/unclean, cracked/intact mirror).
:Go to visit Kenny (South park) in heaven.
:Check your blood pressure with the stethoscope hanging down your neck.
:Try to rejoin half-bitten nails.
:Watch Star World.
:Go to school.
:Look up at the toy-clock for the time when the mid-noon church bell rings.
:Look up the dictionary for the correct pronunciation of the word ‘aero plane’.
:
THE LIST WILL BE CONTINUED.. THIS ENTERPRISE HAD TO BE ABANDONED OWING TO THE FACT THAT IT IS NOW 1 AM AND I JUST REMINDED MYSELF ABOUT A CERTAIN PLAN I HAD MADE THAT INVOLVED WAKING UP EARLY TO STUDY. ......
15 luglio What could have been..Okay so, I’ve been writing this post since May 29th and I’ve been doing it at pace not higher than the speed at which an indolent fool would have worked if he were given a time of five whole years to earn five dollars. And why did I do so? Well, because I’ve been busy doing other things or maybe just too lazy to do this.
Points to be noted:
1] My understanding of ‘Bachi Karkaria’s column has hiked from 11.65% to 25.07%. (Not very commendable but nevertheless it IS significant...)
2] The Kiterunner is my current favourite book. ‘Khaled Hosseini’s writing is lucid and effective.
3] The beginning of the end has begun. Last 9 months of school. However this fact still doesn’t make me want to go.
4] Physics is not my ‘thing’.
5] Plant morphology isn’t really alluring.
6] People don’t disappoint. My expectations are staked high.
7] I worry lavishly. (Wrong English...I think) Even over the fact that I worry too much.
8] I take copious notes.
9] Planting a bomb is no longer a Herculean task.
The forces of Nature do all works. But due to delusion of ignorance people assume themselves to be the doer. (3.27) - The Bhagwat Gita
8] Nickelback is the best band ever( Not really).
9] The grass may not be greener on the other side. But at least there is grass on the other side.
10] I’m air-sick.
11] Money does grow on trees.
12] Some people are incontrovertibly good. All others aren’t.
13] Change is not always propitious. But most of the time it is.
14] You aren’t as unlucky as you think you are. (I’m dubious about this one)
15] You are more confounded than you will ever think you are.
16] Equivocating is not a form of treachery.
17] Cast your pearls before the swine. It might trip and fall. But you will be needing a whole sack full of pearls for that.
From the Bible "Give not that which is holy unto the dogs, neither cast ye your pearls before swine, lest they trample them under their feet, and turn again and rend you." - KJV, Matthew 7:6
18] Night is the best time of the day.
19] Lots of people say lots of things. Well…that’s the most they can do.
20] 4 times 9 is 36. So is 1 time 36.
21] Murphy’s law is the only law worth learning.
22] And so is Newton’s IIIrd law.
23] There is too much happiness in this world. Too much for its own good. But there is 7 times more sadness.
24] Rock rocks.
25] I detest waiting. And that’s what I’m doing usually. Waiting and hating.
26] If Guddu were a pirate, she would be called Captain Jellybean and her ship would be pink with purple tassels hanging on its sides.
27] I just cannot get myself to believe/trust anything conveyed by any friend/acquaintance in the form of the written word. I need eye contact to believe.
3.85. “If anyone desires a religion other than Islam, never will it be accepted of him; and in the Hereafter, he will be in the ranks of those who have lost (their selves in the Hellfire)” – The Holy Quran.
28] Religion is an answer. A confusion. A controversy. A distraction. A commotion. An adhesive. A slaughterer. An escape. An endurance. An obsession. A phobia. A benefaction. A curse. It is an answer. An answer to a question that cannot be answered. A question that should not be answered.
29] I don’t look like a penguin.
30] Nobody will try making your birthday special for you (Incase you are one unlucky ass like me). You’ll have to do it yourself (Like I did).
------------------------------------------------------------------------------- That calls for… uh well… a sort of a public announcement (YES, I do give myself a lil too much importance.My 16th birthday was by far my most special birthday. I’d like to thank
myself for that and yes another certain someone too and some others too. But mostly me. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------
31] The biggest ‘play-ground’ of my school, commonly known to us as the ‘Field’ had now been reduced to one colossal pit. When I say ‘colossal’, I mean COLOSSAL. The hallowed ground that was once the heart of school now houses quite a few empty, crumpled cigarette packs. Accompanying those ever-increasing packs on some days (which is quite a surprising occurrence owing to the fact that we never see a single human figure loitering 25 feet below us) is a red Santro car. And ofcourse there’s a whole lot of mud, clay, sand, moss, stones, rocks etc. I would like to thank the architects of this unplanned city and its buildings for this ‘pit’ (pun intended) in my/our school. But pit or no pit, school ‘rocks’ (pun intended again). There are more pits to come I guess. This is just the beginning. I can’t wait to go away.
32] I’ve started reading aloud. Something I always detested and dissuaded others from doing. And though it does shower some strain on my vocal cords, I must admit that it’s ‘fun’. P.G. Wodehouse’s Blandings stories,( which I would have amateurishly named “The doings, ‘mis’doings and other past-times of the rich and the bored.”) have and will always be a source of wholesome entertainment to me. And me reading it aloud has only made the humour penned by this great writer only more appealing( Psst...I was laughing out loud).
33] The cat got out of the bag Thought it looked nothing close to an old fag, The glass showed its face sag, My, my, things did change after the time lag.
34] I am the least important person in my house.
35] I should start painting again.
36] I am feeling tired. Tired of school. Tired of unimaginable, incredible, astonishing, flabbergasting and frequently occurring COINCIDENCES. Tired of getting hurt and upset effortlessly. Tired of allowing myself to be dominated badly. Tired of procrastinating. Tired of disappointing. Tired of being clumsy. Tired of not-studying. Tired of thinking. Tired of listening. Tired of waiting. Tired of wanting. Tired of wishing. Tired of…uh, well, THIS.
“Do not think of how big the universe is, it will merely hurt your head.” -Buddha quotes (Hindu Prince, Gautama Siddharta, the founder of Buddhism, 563-483 B.C.)
37] I suffer from Anterograde amnesia(Short term memory loss).
38] It is natural for people infilcted with Parkinson’s disease to drag their feet.
39] My english is getting screwed badly(haw!).
40] I repeat : I DETEST physics.
41] Turning vegetarian isn’t really difficult.
42] I like stories. I like reading them. I like to imagine. I like listening to stories. But I like reading better mainly because I can go back and reread things I want to reread. My mum said she had to endure incessant torture during the early years of my growth when I wasn’t equipped enough to read for myself. I would never go to sleep without getting my plea for a story taken care of. It didn’t matter even if it was the same old fabrication I heard everyday. But I’d still want a story. However now that I’m well equipped with fairly sound reading skills I can read for myself before I go to sleep.
43] If if were inclined towards music, i.e. if I were gifted with even an iota of talent that is required to be called a ‘musician’ I would have been a drummer. Why? I like to drum. Thats why.
44] Xavier needs a spanking. Urgently.
45] I think I’m a good listener. Lots of people said so. But then lots of people say lots of things. That what they basically do. Say lots of things. I have been told by numerous esteemed individuals(including Mrs.Narayan) that my face inspires people to talk. A good thing? I like to talk. But even while being the garrulous person that I am, I still like to listen. Getting back on track, I listen patiently, so much so that the speaker gets exhausted. But then I like to listen. Just like I like to read. Lots of people tell me things they would otherwise not disclose. I wonder why? It surprises me often. The fact that they trust me enough to tell me things. But it feels nice to listen. Its something like being the change you want to see and all that jazz. I hardly get audience. Rather I hardly get the right audience at the right time. I wish to be listened to more often. Nobody listens to me. So I listen to everybody. Fair enough, aint it?
IMAGINE John Lennon Imagine there's no heaven But I'm not the only one
No one is as deaf as the man who will not listen. – Jewish proverb
I think its important to listen. It takes more courage than it takes to get up and talk. It takes patience. Everyone wants to be heard. Lending a ear doesn’t take much. I wish I could do it more often. Then maybe people would have time to listen to me too.
Great listening is in its way no less difficult than great writing. It is simply less cultivated, less noted, less hailed by the world. The Jewish tradition is a tradition of those who could listen with their minds and souls.
Today’s Moody Confession: ---Too lazy to type---
Today’s Moody Confession: ---Too lazy to type---
24 maggio ConfettiI’m bored…I’m ALWAYS bored...probably I really don’t know the meaning of bored…I use the word so generously that I really don’t think I know why I’m saying it most of the time…So its not even confirmed if I’m really bored at the moment..
Read a book yesterday…..I should get arrested for wasting my time on that one. Ok I’ll tell you why…It (the book) featured an ‘imaginary friend’. Yeah I know you would do anything to know the name of that book. You’d want to run back soon to exchange it incase you already bought it….I didn’t learn a single new word nor did I learn any new ‘philosophy’ of life or whatever….bleh….(learnt the word from D…Love it!!) But I actually liked the whole concept of imaginary friends. I want to believe that they exist, but I cant get myself to do so…
Ogden Nash. His name came up in one of my recent conversations with someone. That reminds me of the 7th. That was when I happened to read one of his many ‘whimsical’ and ‘satirical’ verses. ‘More about people’ was the name of that poem in my English book. I owe my first introduction to the meanings of ‘irking’, ‘ridiculous’ and ‘vicious circle’ to that poem. It was my favourite until it was displaced of its position by “Walrus and the carpenter’, a nonsensical poem by Lewis Carroll.
I’m considerate. I’ll save you the trouble of googling that poem incase you were even remotely thinking of doing so.
More About People They're making suggestions And when they're not doing one of those They're either looking over your shoulder or stepping on your toes And then as if that weren't enough to annoy you They employ you. Anybody at leisure Incurs everybody's displeasure. It seems to be very irking To people at work to see other people not working, So they tell you that work is wonderful medicine, Just look at Firestone and Ford and Edison, And they lecture you till they're out of breath or something And then if you don't succumb they starve you to death or something. All of which results in a nasty quirk: That if you don't want to work you have to work to earn enough money so that you won't have to work. - OGDEN NASH
Nash…..the name reminds me of so many things…. I had a friend called Nash. He was a pal I made in a summer school I went to once. He was my skating partner there. He would skate. I would watch. He would even buy me chips during the break. With my money ofcourse. But since I didn’t like the face of the shopkeeper he would save my eyes that displeasure. In return he would buy gum for himself. Was a fair deal, wasn’t it? We had a common eye for mystery, adventure etc…the building where the summer camp was held was an old, huge, abandoned, dusty, white-coloured house in Marredpally. There were pictures of ugly cats in one of its rooms.
One day Nash and I noticed that the picture of Mother Mary which was hung up near the balcony on the first floor looked different. She looked dark. Much darker than usual. She didn’t have the ‘divine mother’ aura around her anymore…she looked a trifle scary…. One afternoon Nash found a small neatly shaped hole in a wall. I found a hidden shelf on the inner side of that space. My fingers brought out a wooden cross. Striking similar to the kind which are hung up everywhere in my school. I don’t remember what we did with it though. I wish I had kept it.
One of the instructors in that place who was also a nanny to the little kids who would come there would tell us (especially both of us) ‘ghost-stories’ in the afternoons. All this in that room where we saw those pictures of ugly feline creatures plastered on those high walls. She told us weird stories about devils in flowing gowns and white tails seen at cross-roads on new-moon nights which happened to fall on Mondays.
Nash is by far my favourite ‘summer-camp’ pal. He even made a painting of me(which looked more like an insulting caricature). Mrs. Barbara didn’t let me take it home though. .she didn’t even let me take my Spiderman painting home. And she even tore apart the painting in which I was intending to capture the view I could see through the grill. I thought it was a novel idea. Pity she didn’t think so too. But I like Mrs. Barbara. She’s a pretty lady. But I didn’t find her a bit pretty when she made me dance to ‘I’m a Barbie girl’ for the little girls to learn. Yeah but I liked it when she told me that I have a cute face and that she likes my green netted jacket.
For 11 whole years of my life I had been living under the illusion that I could never have a real ‘enemy’. Denver shattered it for me. He was and still remains (though I don’t see him around now) the first and last ‘enemy’ of my life. Mrs. Barbara was him mum. My friend Natty his cousin. And his dad was my favourite instructor. But he was one rotten apple. Let’s make that egg. The best part was that I was his dad’s favourite student too. That gave me some advantage. I could very conveniently go up to him and say “Sir, see sir, Denver’s troubling me” with my little eyes full of fake hurt whenever I was bored of seeing his dirty face. Then I would hear a back almost being broken and that gave me a chance to witness a little boy weep. It gave me weird pleasure then. I regret it now though. I knew he hated me too. I enjoyed it though.
That was by far the best summer camp I went to. Probably I’m saying that because…well I have no idea why I’m indulging in such tangential rot.
Anyway…that’s enough…MORE than enough….A highly repulsive dose of random facts…bah…I need to do something about myself…this cant go on….
Heard ‘Lemon Tree’ by Fool’s Garden???....I know you didn’t…Only Xavier could’ve heard such a song. But yeah I feel lost, bored, hopeful of excitement n etcetra…the kind emotions/feelings that song is smeared with.
Today’s moody confession: If I were walking with someone…who?.....ummm…Ok my dad. So, Im walking with him down a lane, a lane which is lined with trees which have cute white flowers pullulating everywhere on their foliage. And we are just walking. The sky’s all blue. That cute blue with puffy white thrown in here and there. Not the grayish rain clouds or the sugar candy like ones…I’m talking about the kind which are all blown up like cute balloons in the pristine white…Its early in the morning, the entire place smells of morning. And we’re walking. Then suddenly I look up at one of those many identical trees we were walking past for so long. But this one was different. Atleast to me I looked different. So I looked up. The cute white pompons stared back at me. But I could see one particular flower. It looked different too. So I looked at it. It was dangling from one of the lowest branches. Slowly I lifted my soles of the ground…I was on my toes. My legs stretched next. My torso followed. Then finally my hand. I couldn’t reach it. I lifted my toes now. I jumped. Once. Twice. Again. But to no avail. I turned towards my dad and looked up(he’s about a foot taller). I didn’t have to tell him. The next second his palms were on my hips. He lifted me off the ground. I stretched my hand. I got the flower. He put me down. We walked…..
Needless to say, this was fictional. But that doesn’t matter. Because it just as good as something which happened. It couldn’t be a bit different if it does happen. It would be the same tree. Same flower. But my dad would never pluck it out for me. I wouldn’t ask him to. He would lift me up and I would do it. I know he would. I know anybody would (well they would have been qualified enough to walk there at that time with me).
You see no difference? Doesn’t matter who pulls it out? To me it does. It matters to me. I see the difference. A whole lot of difference.
10 maggio Turn off the lights.Sequel to my last post. #(un)Chewed #
What happens when you screw your AP Calculus so bad that you feel like grounding your own self? When you get to stare at a paper(actually…a yellow booklet, two white ones, and one purple!!!!) for about 4 hours with a certain realization named DOOM who swallows you and then you keep going deeper into his body and have a nice close look at all his entrails which spell ‘YOU KNOW NOTHING’… When people beside you so conveniently write whatever little you did? (Ok...I dunno why this one’s bothering me).
ANSWER(S): You (me) feel terribly upset and bored and write…rather type(Hell with Microsoft Word….no…its my life saver…..I love it)
But these questions aren’t really important….What’s important is me getting so depressed over ONE shitty exam…I’ve written so many, I should be immune. But I have no idea why this one’s troubling me so much.
I tried to trouble lots of pals of mine today. They didn’t let me trouble them. All (EVERY SINGLE ONE) of then were either genuinely ‘tired’ and ‘upset’ or just feigned ‘weariness’ and ‘melancholy’ to get rid of me or….…..To hell with them. Ok I hope you aren’t my friend. I don’t want you reading this. Go away. Ta ta. Buh-bye…goooooooo…….
*** Wish I had what I needed
Now that you’ve gone, ill continue. I don’t like this. I wanted to do AP Calculus well. Its confirmed now. I suck at math. Did I ever say I like it? No. So what’s the big deal you ask me? There’s no big deal. Even my mum said its ok. My dad pretended to say its ok. There’s no big deal. So what’s all this about? I don’t know. How should I know?...Oh…well…yeah…its about me…I should…But hell...I don’t.
I want to punch someone hard….you?...yeah you….come here…get your face closer… No, I don’t like it…take it away…get out of my sight….you face is repulsive….I hate it….go…I said go…go away…go away NOW…GOOOOOO…
Somebody ban orkut…I dislike it….hate, loathe, despise it. I’m allergic to it(Lie).
***I DON’T want to sprout wings and I DON’T want to fly.
I just want(NOT) to write my other two APs.
Answer this: Who listens to ‘I’m not my hair’, ‘Waiting on the world to change’ and ‘Bad day’ at the same time? Don’t rack your head. You don’t know it. Of course you do. It’s me. Yeah me. Slap me. Do it. Do it now. Don’t. I might bite you. Ewwww….I won’t. It’s unhygienic.
***Swing swing from the tangles of my heart….
I wanted to talk to someone today. It happened. I mean the talking. I wished I didn’t. The talk was so disappointing. I just got admonished for moaning. I should think twice before ‘wanting’ next time. I want to read a book. When I say book, I mean a BOOK. I should be a book. I haven’t read one for ages. The last I read was….when???...my reader soul is starving. I don’t have to go get myself one, two, few…. I don’t like Meg Cabot’s books. I like P.G.Wodehouse. I love his style. I want to write like him too (ha!)….Laugh!…[your allowed to]..
***It's not somebody who's seen the light
The FLY is meeting up in Deep’s Roseville on Friday. I want to go. I can’t go. I’m grounding myself. I want to see a movie. I haven’t been out of home (exception: Paramount) since ages. Ages and ages….
I want to go somewhere. Stop feeling so low, beaten, tired. I need something. A hug. A smile. A change. More change.
I have a key. An old brown metallic one. It’s rusted. Has a pretty inscription on it. There’s a creeper. Two creepers. They’re entwined. A tiny flower struggling to peep out and say ‘Hi’. The flower is very cute. It looks like a rose. It would be pink if it weren’t metal. Which metal?...I have no clue…but the key is pretty. It looks ancient. Mysterious. It gives me a good feeling. It has a few weird symbols on the ring-shaped part of it: A star with an arrow in it. An ellipse with two dots in it. Two ‘7’s back to back. A cross with one arm broken. The end of the key’s stem has some tiny cryptic notes in some weird language. It’s weird. Interesting. Puzzling. Strange. Symbolic( I love symbols!) It’s an answer. It contains an answer. An abstruse, obscure answer. An answer to a question. A baffling, mystical, profound question. It’s one of my most hallowed possessions. It’s a key. An answer.
I don’t have the lock. I want the lock. I want to open it.
I hate dreams. I get real dreams. Dreams which are so REAL. Even during my afternoon naps. I actually live those dreams. Laugh, weep, I do everything in them. Then I get up. They ruin my mood for me. I let them ruin it. I can’t help it. Those dreams are so real.
*** Bleeding thoughts
It’s 1:24. I’ll have to leave this flat in a few days. It’s hardly been a month since I came here. I like this place. It changed me. The change isn’t very favourable. But it was a change. Change helps you grow. You need to grow. I want to grow. I was disappointed so bad today. I realized something. Probably I shouldn’t be so hopeful and optimistic about everything. I hate being let down like this. Things aren’t happening. I want them to happen. But I know they’ll happen when I least expect them to. When I won’t be sub-consciously longing for then to happen. But I can’t stop hoping all the time. I’m trying hard not to.
Breeze….Ahhh….its comforting. It’s sweet smell is embracing me in one big therapeutic embrace. But I still need something more than this. I’m greedy. But I NEED it.
*** Scream to no one
Going back home again will be hard. Like coming back in a circle. I hate circles. I like the graph of ex. It increases exponentially(doesnt it?...damn…calculus).
1:44. I walk out into the balcony. The breeze…Ahhh…the deep silence of the night. Then I hear the leaves rustle. An old discarded plastic bottle dancing it’s around way with the wind. A bike. I hear drums. Pre-wedding celebrations. Fire-works. Guess confirmed! The street lights are so bright. They don’t make it seem like night. The buildings are all dark. I see a light in the apartment there. Blinking lights. Television! I don’t watch TV. Nobody lets me. I don’t really care anyways. There’s nothing I really want to see. Another light. It’s coming from the opposite window. I look inside. A balding middle-aged man doing some writing on his desk. He’s working seriously. Ooooooh. The breeze got him too. His papers are flying. But he won’t shut the windows. I know he won’t. The night breeze is lovely. We need it.
**Yawn
*** Concrete girl don't fall down
**Yawn Yawn Yawn
Inundation. Of thoughts, ideas, memories…..water (**a HUGE amount drips down from my moist eyes when as I yawn now…)
Reminds me….I didn’t cry today. Wish I did. But I needed audience. I didn’t find any. It’s ok now. The ‘yawn’ tears are making up!!
I feel better. The breeze works.
***Pull the hair back from your eyes
Try not to focus on yourself
Sooner or later……..
I like being instructed by people I care/love. Music instructs. So I smile. Because the song tells me to. I smile. You smile too…..Smile…..do it…do it now…SMILE…Smile…..SMILE…. Okay dont. I dont want you to.
**Yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn yawn……….YawNnnn…
EMERGENCY!!...Flooods!….Run….Run…..Runnnnnnnnnnnnn
08 maggio Not Worth A Read.Keeping in mind that it’s complete boredom (that has been infused into everyone’s head by the heat wave that’s drowning Hyderabad this summer) that’s got you here reading this I would NOT recommend a reading of this entry….probably you could give the others a try. If you insist you can go on…don’t blame me later for aggravating your boredom…I’m bored too so I’m typing this. The title of this blog is so NOT apt for this entry…this is NOT chewed cud, it’s just about all the crap that’s chewing me up [*groan]...
--Listening to… KIM by Eminem…I didn’t know that Eminem sang that shit too…It’s gross, morbid, maaaadd….and why am I listening to Eminem??
AP Calculus (I know you don’t know what it is…I wont tell you) on the 9th…that’ll be tomorrow since it’s already 12 a.m. I should be studying now. I’m not. NO, I don’t know any Calculus. I want to know. But I’m not trying to know. That’s the problem. Why is it happening you ask? I don’t know...I would’ve been correcting it if I knew what it was and studying already. But I’m not. That’s the point. I’m just not studying. I tried to this morning. Read a page of definite integrals. One page, two, few…done...the Concentration died. I hate Concentration. He pisses me off. He comes to say hello, promises to stay the night over and by the time I come back with some coke he disappears. Bleddy git. I hate him.
- -Listening to…. Animals # Nickelback Dear Mama = Tupac
I have no clue what I’ll write tomorrow or if I’ll even write anything. I’m ruining myself. I have AP Biology and AP Chemistry coming up to. Damn…why did I take so many APs? I expect too much from the incompetent me. Ok chuck the APs. I’ll deal with them later. The song reminds me of how I forgot that it was my mum’s birthday today. I didn’t remember (…only school can get me to keep track of dates and days). I saw a message on the cell when I got up. That’s when I remembered. [*trying to kick my own ass]. I didn’t buy her anything. I’m broke. Yeah I could have asked pappa but then I didn’t buy him anything for his birthday last month. I can’t be soo biased. But that’s not the main point either. The point is that I didn’t anything to make her feel good. Nothing special. I didn’t even try NOT to be rude. I wasn’t trying to be polite. Instead I just ate the cake she got for me (Irony) without even a thank-you. I’m sure she felt bad. I feel bad too. It’s just that I realized too late. She’ll forget it soon. I won’t. my birthday comes next month. I can’t believe I’ll be 16 with such a little brain in my skull. That’s highly abnormal. NO, I will not celebrate it. It’s not a day you celebrate. Not after what I did to mommy today. I always punished myself when I did something wrong. I never waited for mummy to do it. I always did it before she could. Though I still got all the lectures and slaps.
- -Listening to…. Variations On Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star Instrumental # MOZART
Why am I doing this? I should be sleeping. Its 12:20 already. I should be sleeping with my alarm beside me with its tiniest hand pointing at 5. But that isn’t happening. Why? how should I know…I don’t know anything anyway. The music reminds me of LKG. Oh no! 14 years in the same school. The first and last school I’ll ever go to. Joined when I wasn’t even three. The last year will begin soon even before I turn 16 and finish in like 10 months. They’ll fly. It’ll be over before I know it. I don't know if I'm actually looking forward to it. Maybe I'm not. School's not like it was earlier. But it's okay. The song I'm listening to!! That was my most favourite rhyme in kg after ‘I’m a little tea-pot’ (this was my favouritest!). I want to go back to LKG. Then I won’t have to write the APs. No...no...I don’t to be in LKG. I have quite a few bad memories associated with Kindergarten. I hated sleeping periods after lunch and those stupid crows. Chee...And most importantly I clearly remember what was going on at home during that time…I don’t want to see that again...No, I don’t want to go back…
- -Listening to…. Swing Swing ^ All American Rejects Just Around The River Bend *DISNEY
I’m feeling drained. Went to some waste wedding dinner. Didn’t look up at the two blessed individuals up there until jobless Harmeet messaged so joblessly asking if the bride looked pretty. I tried to evade the inevitable “Oh...she’s your daughter?...looks just like you I must say”, “you’ve grown taller since I last saw you…these kids just keep growing!”…Which is such a sad lie…I hardly grew an inch since he last saw me..couldn’t avoid it…My head was aching. Ate salad. Wanted to throw up after the dessert. Sat in the car. Came home. ...who were those people? Music distracts, heals, mollifies, irritates, reminds.. It’s irritating me now.
- -Listening to…. The Hills Are Alive – The Sound Of Music Nobody Knows ~ Grey’s Anatomy theme song (Dunno who sang it)
I should go get some sleep now. What a waste entry this was. The wastest ever. My English! [*Sigh]… Drank an entire bottle of water in one gulp. Getting victory feelings. Yay!!! Microsoft word is so painful...cheap...it underlines practically everything I type. I hate underlying…No, I don’t. The black print in my text-books remains incomprehensible until I underline stuff with my own hands. Contradictions….Not hypocrisy. I hate hypocrisy. The rumour goes around that I’m a hypocrite myself…I say ‘really’?
- -Listening to…. Where The Streets Have No Name : U2 Hip-Hop Is Dead > NAS
Enough of random strings of words. My fingers are aching. I say Good night. To you, to me, to all…. Don’t pray. Pray harder…
Paradoxes, Contradictions, Extremes.
- - Listening to…. It’s So Easy `Guns n Roses My Michelle ` Guns n Roses Sweet Child O’mine ` Guns n Roses
Today’s moody confession: No confession today. The nonsense I type above was nonsensical enough. Don’t want to add more to your miseries….
- - Listening to…. If You Love Somebody Set Them Free || Sting Mr. Jones \ / Counting Crows Perfect World <> Simple Plan Figured You Out :: Nickelback What Goes Around….Comes Around () Justin Timberlake Edelweiss – The Sound Of Music Cupid’s Chokehold /\ Gym Class Heroes feat. Patrick Stump
01 maggio What I love and learnt..I had thought of posting another doggie story. But this isn't one. Instead I came up with another story(I can see the groan!). You wouldn’t even call all this a story. I call it a story. Read further. You’ll know why I call it a story).NOTE:One more thing….I’ d like to dedicate this post to The bunny….Thanx a ton rey….loveEtymologyOld English lufu (noun), lufian (verb), from Germanic *lubo, from Indo-European *leubh-. Ok then, this is a list everything I love….I love: -Being able to say all the things I want to say -Talking -Tuesdays -The sounds of mornings -The view from my terrace -Being fed -My school premises -Chotu -Short stories -The Times of India
“Love one another and you will be happy. It's as simple and as difficult as that” ~Michael Leunig
I love: -Being treated like a kid -Songs with good lyrics -Nani and Nanu -Being praised -Maggi with peas and carrots -Acting on stage -Calling people names -‘But it rained’ by Parikrama -Breaks -Mommy -My eyes -Soni and Guddu -Controversy -Rain -The colour blue -Free classes in school
“A baby is born with a need to be loved - and never outgrows it” ~Frank A. Clark
I love: -Unexpected holidays -Chocolates -Fishes (Live ones) -My pajamas -Perfect colour coordination -Air conditioners -Gardens -My computer -My pals -Surprises -Chicken (Used to. Im vegetarian now [July]) -Reading -Diwali -Writing
“Love is, above all, the gift of oneself” ~Jean Anouilh
I love: -Psycho-analysing -Sirius Black -Stars -Remembering every detail regarding people/things/events I care about -Getting sums right -Quotes -Being called ‘cute’ -White walls -Not having anything to study -A hot shower -Chinese food -The feel of the sand on a beach -The smell of new books/bags -Songs from ‘The Sound Of Music’
“Love and kindness are never wasted. They always make a difference. They bless the one who receives them, and they bless you, the giver” -Barbara De Angelis
I love: -Stupid photographs of not-so-stupid people -Bunny rabbits -Gowns (the kind the female protagonists of Disney cartoon movies wear) -Watching movies with Soni -Winters -White Shirts -Unopened letters and packages -My ability to forgive easily -Being dominated by people I love -Promita’s sense of humour -Family gatherings -Microsoft Word
“No one has ever loved anyone the way everyone wants to be loved” ~Mignon McLaughlin
I love: -Making Lists -Happy Endings -Watching Chotu sleep -Unexpected holidays -Movies -Attention -Sweet Lime -'The Fountain Head' by Ayn Rand -Technology -Biology -Christmas -Winters -Good editorials
-Folding up my pants -The word/name ‘Reddox’ (My little fish will get that name) -The fact that I never really envy people
“Love doesn't make the world go 'round; love is what makes the ride worthwhile” -Franklin P.Jones
I love:
-Appy Fizz
-Aviators
-Barney n Friends ( The Fly)..Family
-Getting up late
-Non-lazy mornings
-Newsboy hats
-White flowers
-Sitting with my legs folded
-Baggy clothes
-Anything to do with white/blue/water/rain/beaches
-Watching debates
-The American way of saying new (NUUU)
-The word ‘princess’ --- I have NO clue why!!!
-Spacious houses
You learn to like someone when you find out what makes them laugh, but you can never truly love someone until you find out what makes them cry. ~Author Unknown
I love:
- Cauliflowers
- Curved 'g's and 'y's
- Yahoo messenger
- My phone
- A certain 'uh huh'.
- A certain "Right."
- Sprite. umm..no, not really, its just okay-okay.
- A hen
- Heights
- Public Speaking
- Accounting
- *Wanna hold hands or something?
- Bottle openers
- Assertiveness
- "Nega"
- Bottle opener
“You don’t have to consciously love yourself to be happy. Just spread love selflessly among your loved ones. You’ll fall in love with yourself automatically. And loving yourself feels beautiful....”
-Anonymous
I love: - Me - You - Everybody(No...not all) Etcetera…….
“Whenever you are confronted with an opponent. Conquer him with love” - Mahatma Gandhi
Whoa! There are soooo many things in my head right now that if I continue typing I could never stop…
At that time when I first thought of making this list I could’ve never imagined where this would get me.
I had absolutely NO clue that I love so many things.
Feels weird…well, atleast to me it does. I had always presumed that there’s hardly anything around that I love. Wanting to continue with this list makes me think twice. There are soooo many things I love. So many things that give me so much of pleasure, happiness-be it those little joys my days are replete with or the BIG ones that actually shape my world. There’s so much to love, so much to extract love from, so many people to get loved by.. There are no bounds, someone said, to love and human stupidity. I totally agree.
The "love"' is one that is taken for granted the most. It is used so commonly, so generously, so blithely. I don’t know what made me interrupt my list to type all this. But I know one thing for sure, I did understand something. What that something is, well that’s for me to figure out.
But yes, I do love a whole lot of things. And I hope to continue loving them. They shape my happiness, my thoughts, my choices.
I'm trying to imagine what would happen if I converted all those things I claim to ‘hate’ into things I love (well, not all of them, a few atleast)….
This reminds me of this song we learnt when I was in the IIIrd: “Count your blessings”, it’s called.. …………… When upon life's billows www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/c/o/countyou.htm
Lots of people say love is selfless and that you need to love things selflessly. I disagree. I think loving anything is being selfish. You love things because you like loving things. It makes you feel good. You do it for your sake. You are being selfish. There’s no other way to it. No, I don’t think there’s any other explanation. Lots of people love lots of other people. It could be any kind of love. But the love which is most troubling, thought-provoking is the one your thinking about now…I think accepting that fact that you love someone takes courage, a whole lot of courage. Courage to kill the ego.
Ego. Reminds me of The Fountainhead… Fountainhead. Reminds me of what Howard Roark says: “ I love you, Dominique. As selfishly as the fact that I exist. As selfishly as my lungs breathe air. I breathe for my own necessity, for the fuel of my body, for my survival. I’ve given you, not my sacrifice or my pity, but my ego and my naked need. This is the only way you can wish to be loved. This is the only way I can want you to love me.” That’s a different kind of love, what Roark (I mean Ayn Rand) is talking about. I don’t understand it. It’s too profound for me. I hope I will someday. But the implication is similar.
Today’s Moody Confession: The summer of 2007. I can never forget this summer. This summer has been the worst ever if I look at it straight. But then I look deeper.
I see the challenges. Then I see the change. I see tears in my eyes. The pain. Then I see forgiveness in them. The faith. I see myself weak, broken. Then I see myself dust my back and get up. I see loneliness. Then I see the friend. I see frustration. Then I see me encouraging someone. I see light. I see it everywhere. Even at night. I see the hot sun. Then I see the mangoes. I see my face burn. Then I see my pink cheeks and lips.
“We must become the change we want to see.” -Mahatma Gandhi
I see the dry tank. Then I see the cool pool. I see the hot afternoon wind. Then I see the evening breeze. I see the bead of sweat. Then I see the cube of ice. I see the sour meat. Then I see the ice-cream. I see myself burdened. Then I see myself carry it with ease. I see myself sniff softly. Then I see myself laugh out loudly. I see the elevator isn’t working. Then I see the beautiful end the stairs lead me to - the view from my terrace
The summer seems to be the worst ever. Then I see all what I learnt. I learnt so much. I grew up. I’m learning everyday. I’m growing everyday. Things can try to be as bad as they can be. I’ll beat them all. Oh well, atleast I'll TRY to. I’ll come out of all of it. And probably I’ll come out with a smile. Try me. I won’t disappoint. I’m me and I love my life. And I love it simply because it’s mine.
The summer hasn’t ended yet. I won’t say I don’t want it to. That would be a lie. But I’m making the most of all the shit it’s giving me. I’m using it to understand, make understand, learn, grow.... Summer for Neha always ends with Neha’s birthday. The end of June will see me turn 16. It will see a new me. A better me. Oh yes it will. That’ll be my gift to myself…..
Ohhhhhh………I love this summer!!
22 aprile Why the bow-wow makes me pale.Before you read this I’d like to inform you that this particular incident would make a better narration from me than a read. Anyway, since that cant be helped, Go on, Read….
Once upon a time, there lived a little lunatic, who grew up to be a not-so-little-lunatic. And this particular lunatic is now busy “lunaticating”(whatever that means) everybody in contact with her. You are one of her latest victims.
NOTE : Soni happens to be the little lunatic’s sis(about a year younger), cousin actually.
It was a hot afternoon, the summer of ‘95 or ‘96(I don’t quite remember) and the little lunatic had to act fast; The time was running out. The lil lu had tried everything. She had thought of and used every little excuse her 5 year old brain could come up with - even something as ingenious as the excuse that it was an invisible hand that had pushed Soni down the stairs. But alas! It didn’t work. That seemingly evil lady who happened to be the lil lu’s mum just wouldn’t listen. “No”, she had said, “Yocan’t go to the movie”. The lil lu desperately wanted to go to the movie.
The lil lu wept, slept, begged, promised, (but didn’t bother to admit having done it), and even pretended to die. She was still met with a ‘NO”.
The lil lu knew she couldn’t give up so easily; it wasn’t her to let go of things like that. She knew there was something that she still hadn’t thought of, but what that something was, well, she was still oblivious of that. So she stood outside near the gate of her house looking dejected and devoid of any hope (that didn’t work either), but the lil lu’s brain was still working hard. A stupid looking doggie was loitering around. The very sight of him irritated the lil lu. ”Somebody, kill him”, she thought. Soni was all dressed, ready to step into that dark hall of pleasure, the lil lu thought only she deserved to be in. “Oh no”, she knew she couldn’t just let that happen. The lil lu loved Soni, but the lil lu loved herself too, a little too much for her own good though. The lil lu(who grew to be the not-so-little-lunatic) had always been optimistic to the point of being so dumbly dumb. Absolute darkness would be a novel experience. That tiny ray of light - which might not even have existed in the first place- was a must before her eyes. Getting back to the lil lu who was over-taxing her little head…. Soni was out waiting for her mum. The lil lu’s aunt was just about slipping her feet into her sandals, when it happened. And the lil lu was there all this while watching it happen, live. Soni was wearing red coloured shoes. Ah! how the lil lu wished her feet were in them now. The little red shoes’ white laces were out. Soni bent down to tie them up (What was she even thinking?...I’m sure she didn’t know how to tie them), but whatever, she still did bend down to try to tie her laces. There was a huge stone beside Soni’s feet. Dunno what pleasure she thought the feel of it would give her, but the fact remains that Soni touched it.
That immediately lit a spark in the stupid-looking doggie’s filthy head. Until that very second when it turned to look at Soni as a potential danger to it's being, it had it's line of vision fixed towards the lil lu( possibly mesmerized by the lil lu’s cherubic beauty) and then that mangy cur chose that very moment to shift his/her gaze towards the other cherubic face and then it happened.
The elusive knowledge of the canine family--(which I’m presuming states that a stone within the reach of a homo Sapiens’s hand could be of utmost peril to a doggie)-- dawned on that doggie and then he/she sprinted towards the lil lu’s poor little cousin. The not-so-little-lunatic has that horrifying moment engraved in her visual memory till date. That seemingly monstrous stray’s canine dug into the soft flesh of Soni’s little bum and then the wail….Oh yes, the wail. The wail - which the now not-so-lil-lu can never erase from her memory - went up in the air, took a left turn went straight for a short while took a left again when it reached the door of the lil lu’s house. Within a span of 2 seconds or so, the lil lu’s grandma, aunt, and mum turned up at the site where the terrible deed had been committed( well.. they did beat that useless mongrel at the sprint).
And then vague flashes of wails, gasps, “shoo”es, “auto”s etc…still move around even now in the not-so-little-lunatic’s head.
The little lunatic loved her cousin and never forgave that doggie for putting Soni through all that misery.
Soni was cured of that bite with a couple of injections, but since that incident the lil lu has been a victim of doggie-phobia (or whatever nonsense it’s called).
The not-so-little-lunatic now claims to hate doggies, but the underlying fact is that she is shit scared of them(and I guess will always be). She just tries to mask her fear with loathe.
Going back to what was going on in the lil lu’s head at that time, The lil lu, after all what had happened in front of her, still wished that she were the one in Soni’s shoes….
Today’s Moody Confession – No, I’m not in the mood for confession...
Coming up next : Neha & Soni’s next encounter with a stray…
21 aprile You NEED a title? Oh really?Ok so, What have I been doing lately? Well..I know you don’t really care , but I’ll tell you anyway) I’ve been thinking. This shouldn’t be of great surprise to the people associated with me(who would definitely not bother to read this blog), ‘cause that’s what I usually do…THINK It’s stupid I know…‘cause everybody does that(DuH!), but then I guess I do think too much. Everybody says that. I realized it too, only yesterday though. And the “everybody” I was talking about says a whole lot of other things too. Like: You talk too much, you have an opinion about anything; and everything and then also sometimes : you never say anything, you just listen, your not listening! blah blah blah blah…but I don’t care about 'everybody. Period. Uh..Maybe I do. I care only about those whom I want to care about( psst…that doesn’t include everybody). And I guess that’s what everybody cant stand. Anyway moving ahead..I was listening to Affirmation by Savage garden and I got inspired (see…this is the kind of shitty stuff I get inspired by) NOTE : My language is going to the dogs. I had to think for a while before typing that “by” at the end of the last sentence: I just couldn’t remember the right preposition(or whatever you call it…Is that an idiom?) Pah! Why do I waste my time on such tangential stuff? Maybe it isn’t that unimportant….AGAIN! Hullo! Neha. Your losing it. Oh yes, you are..big time. I guess I’m high. On what? Dunno. Bah. Getting back to my latest inspiration, Affirmation. Well I’ve decided to type in my set of ‘I Believe’ statements or affirmations or some crap. Nah..I’m already bored. I’ll do that some other day.
Today’s Moody Confession: I used to suffer from TRICHOTILLOMANIA ( go find out if you really care..but then you DON’T: http://www.kidshealth.org/teen/your_mind/mental_health/trichotillomania.html) That was from around mid-2005 to mid-2006.And then I beat it..rather, outlived it(‘cause it was KILLiNg me). And I’m kinda proud of myself for kicking this ‘shameful’ habit. This was a real confession. Nobody knows about it yet, not even my mum. But I’m not ashamed of it anymore. Because I BEAT IT… Looking at me now you could never say that I once was under its filthy grip. That's probably 'cause it wasnt that serious, I didnt let it get serious. I look as normal as "normal" can look....(or maybe even better than normal I love my hair now. I think its pretty( i.e. after all the violence I subjected it to). Probably I could go ahead and immodestly claim it to be better than lots of other people's. But whatever. I'm just glad it's over now..
Ahhh!. This gives me pleasure… |
Nah!..that would be a highly narssisticaly stated blatant lie).|
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