Contorted Reality

All I want

2011-10-29T13:05:00.000+05:30

What They Never Taught You

2011-10-27T01:14:00.000+05:30

When you look in the mirror and can't find a thing to love because you're looking at yourself through someone else's mind, stand really, really close to the mirror, and just look at your eyes. They're beautiful.

When you're feeling so low that you're walking around with your eyes on the ground, look up at the people around you. They're all dealing with problems of their own, and one of the only things giving them that strength is knowing that they're not alone, because people like you are having awful days too.

When you think you don't have the strength, close your eyes and take a deep breath. Of course you have the strength. You just need to sit still for a moment, be quiet for a moment, and put your thoughts in order - slowly.

When you don't have the confidence to go talk to that super-hot guy you like, think about your eyes, how beautiful they are, and then smile at him instead. When you feel beautiful, when you find something about yourself to love, everybody around you sees it too.

These are valuable lessons I've learnt over the past couple of months.

Never mind, I'll find someone like you

2011-10-24T23:02:00.000+05:30

I was driving on autopilot earlier today, and before I knew it, I was outside your house. I could never remember how to get there, I always had to call...and yet, there I was, sitting in my car, staring at your gate. I sat there, crying, for a while, then got it together and started making my way out. I got lost, of course, and had to stop seven or eight times to get directions.

I was driving on autopilot later today, and before I knew it, I had stopped near my aunt's house, where we spent time talking and laughing and "testing the waters". I drove away before someone saw me and invited me in, asking me why I was sobbing, offering solace, tissues and advice.

I let go completely, and yet, every fibre of my being kept pulling me to you, to thoughts and memories of you.

I don't think I ever hated and pitied myself more.

I learnt a lesson today - only one of us is crying about this, and it's not you. So I've shut down that part of me, put it away. I'm numb and empty, and I don't feel like myself any more. On the bright side, though, you're not on my mind. I don't think about you, my subconscious has thrown you out...my unconscious mind now bears the pain and scars of my love for you.

"Never mind, I'll find someone like you
I wish nothing but the best for you
...Sometimes it lasts in love,
But sometimes it hurts instead"

Pride, misunderstood.

2011-10-22T13:27:00.000+05:30

Scared little girl
Under masks of smiles,
I'm so proud of you.

You know the pain will only ease
When you take your last breath,
And yet, here you are,
Under masks of smiles.

Standing up as tall as you can,
Looking the world in the eye,
Smiling and laughing and dancing and singing,
As if you have no care in the world -
I'm so proud of you.

When you're all alone at home, you take them off,
Lay them out on your bedside table,
As the tears you've cried all day slowly dry
From the cracking surfaces,
Pain warms the path it takes,
Trickling down your cheek.

You sob and cry, curled up in agony,
As your masks watch in porcelain silence,
Unable to help.

Climb into bed and pray for a new day,
Pray for strength,
Thank the heavens for your faithful masks,
And cry until you're too exhausted to move.

Fall asleep, dream restless dreams,
Wake up every hour or so -
Repeat.

When morning dawns,
Wash your tear stained face
And carefully place your masks
Over closed eyes and trembling lips.

Seal them in place with a prayer
And a shaky smile that doesn't reach your eyes.

A new day has come -
And I am so proud of you.

- Insert optimistic title here -

2011-10-14T14:50:00.000+05:30

I've said it before, I'll say it again - running is what we do best. It's the easy way out. Tiring, yes, but also easy. Leave it all behind you, make a clean break, start over - it's what we want, somewhere deep down inside.

Confession : I'm a serial runner. Most people run when they're afraid, when they feel like they don't have the strength, when they're unsure and need time to think...when they're angry, even. Not me. I just run. All the time. Classic example? One of my all-time favourite stories - a couple of years ago, when I was young(er) and stupid(er), I thought I was falling in love with someone. I convinced myself, and, to a certain extent, him, that I wasn't worth it, that he deserved better - and then I ran.

See what I mean? I've always played it safe. Minimum risk ensures minimum pain, minimum loss, minimum damage. Or so I thought. Turns out, it works, but only for a couple of years, tops. I got over this guy, sure, but only after a lot of pain.

The best part? I wasn't even in love.

Which brings me to the really fun part. I found myself in a rather pathetic situation recently. I fell in love (stupid thing to do, really) with someone. He doesn't feel that way about me, he doesn't want to be with me (which, on a side note, really bruises the ego. Admitting it on a public forum like this? Man, my ego is now non-existent. So yes, let's get it out there. I love him, he doesn't love me. I want to be with him, he doesn't want to be with me.).

Ouch

Anyway, my first instinct was to run. I had everything planned - I'd move away, find a job elsewhere, and just not see him again for a couple of years. It doesn't matter where I work or what job I do - it's more or less the same where ever I go - so I thought, okay, let's do this. Get out of his life, find a way to push him out of mine for now so that we can be 'friends' in a couple of years, just like he wants, and we're all good.

Piece of cake, right? Except, I started spending more time with him after I decided to run. Sort of like saying goodbye over a couple of weeks. Everything's the same. We still talk and laugh all the time, there's enough sparks to set the place on fire, and he is probably the only person I can be myself with.

Which made me realise how stupid I was being. Running away, cutting off from him completely - who was I kidding? I was being a coward, too afraid to bear the pain of seeing him with someone else, primarily.

Something changed last night. Somewhere between hugging my pillow, crying myself to sleep (as is the norm these days) and waking up with my pulse sky-rocketing after a particularly nasty nightmare, I decided to stay. I decided to stop running, stop blaming myself for everything, and stop being so hard on myself. I decided to stay. It's not going to be easy. There's going to be pain and angst and the heartache will go on for years, but I am Not. Going. To. Run.

So there.

Now all I need to do is find a job, get back into dance, and find some strength to deal with the consequences of not taking the easy way out.

Right. So - anybody looking to hire a psychologist?

Letters (Part I) - Help, I think...

2011-09-26T14:41:00.000+05:30

"Hey...

Okay I know this is uncharacteristic of me, but I need advice, and you make sense.

I love him and hate him in equal measure.
On some days, I want nothing more than to just lock myself up in a room with him and just be in his arms all day long, not saying anything, not doing anything.
On other days, I hate his guts. I hate the way he talks and the things he says, and I just can't be bothered to even pretend I care about him or anything in his life.

For the past couple of months, I've been hating him more than loving him. Almost every day, I wake up and wonder why I'm with him...when did I forget all the things I loved about him? When did we lose our spark? Why do I not want to be with him any more, when he is the best thing that could have ever happened to me? When did I fall out of love?

I want to end it, want to walk away from the relationship before things get worse and the pain intensifies...but I know you'll say something different. Talk to me, woman. Knock some sense into my head, help me salvage this, because God knows, I love this man."

--

"You said it - you love him. That's all you need.

What you're experiencing is a rough patch. Every relationship goes through a couple of those - it's a sign of a mature relationship between two independent, strong-minded people. :) Don't throw something this good away because you haven't been "feeling it" for a couple of months.

Take a week off work. Go somewhere, just the two of you. Put away your cell phones and PDAs, tell everyone else you know that you'll be off the grid for a week. Then, spend the week reminding yourselves of all the things you found attractive in each other when you first met.

Once you're in a secure relationship, it's so easy to slip into routine and forget to flirt or tease every once in a while. Flirting, holding hands, texting, calling, teasing, making fun of pretty much everyone around you - everything you did in the beginning served one main purpose - it built reassurance, and reassurance, subtle or obvious, is probably one of the most important factors responsible for keeping a relationship alive.

Fall out of love? What a ridiculous notion. You've told me so many times that you think he's amazing, that you want to marry him some day. You haven't fallen out of love, honey, you've just hit a rough patch.

The two of you are so good together. Why throw it away when you can fix it? Love so intense and so pure is hard to come by. If it made you smile at one point of time, it has the potential to do so again. Go slow over these rough, bumpy roads - it's the best way.

So go. Plan a vacation. Leave your cell phones at home and go enjoy each other's company.

Flirt a little.

Laugh.

Love.

Talk.

Don't throw away what can be fixed...and remember to go slow."

Karma

2011-09-24T13:14:00.001+05:30

It hurts to breathe.

My sheets smell of you.

My home, my sanctuary, my strongest memories of you.

Of us.

I can't breathe.

Karma,

I have paid my dues. You gave me more than I deserved - I spent my whole life trying to remember what I did to make you hate me so much. I've said nothing so far, but now, I must speak. Stop. There is too much pain.

I'm sure I've paid my dues...haven't I? I don't think I can handle more pain than this.

It hurts to breathe...so please, stop.

The Essential (Incomplete) Guide to Dating Part II - How to Hurt Your Partner

2011-09-21T22:46:00.002+05:30

Indifference. Callous indifference.

That's all it takes, and it's a wonderful tool, really - it tells the other person that you really Just. Don't Care.

You can make it worse by caring about someone else's similar situation.

And then add the whole "do-what's-best" thing.

There. Foolproof formula, works like a charm.

Now, I'm no expert on relationships, but I'm pretty certain that reassurance plays a key role in holding things together at some basic level. We have this need for reassurance, usually unconscious.

It's important to your partner to know that you care, and that makes it important for you to show them you care. Ergo, one of the easiest ways to hurt your partner is to be indifferent. Callously so, if you can pull it off. Say "okay" or "cool" for everything. Make it a point to never, ever, show him/her how much he/she means to you. Do this for a while, say, about a month or so, and one of two things will happen. Either he/she will find his/her self-esteem crumbling and his/her insecurities (whatever they may be, even unrelated), multiplying, or he/she will walk out of your life, hate you, and curse your existence.

Now here's where it gets interesting. If your partner loves you, is in love with you, and thinks the world of you, your indifference will usually lead to the former reaction.

Why, you ask?

Because reassurance, trust, and love go hand-in-hand. When someone you love (with an intensity that scares even you) is indifferent, it makes you feel flawed, even when you aren't. It makes you question yourself, makes you feel worthless, makes you look in the mirror and have thoughts similar to the following : "Why doesn't he/she care about me? What can I possibly do to make him/her care? It's because I'm unattractive, isn't it? He/she thinks I'm not worth it, not worth the time. Oh god, I wish I was prettier/smarter/thinner/taller/.../..."

And that's how it works.

If you want to be especially cruel, be indifferent for a few weeks, and then be the most loving, giving, caring, person you could possibly be - for a day, or even just a few hours. Pay generic compliments, look deep into your partner's eyes and don't say anything, apologise for being such an awful human being, and hold him/her tight for a while. Then, once he/she is out of sight, go back to the indifference - you can almost feel the pain. It's so...raw.

Now, somewhere along this process, you may realise that you're being an asshole, and your brain (yes, brain - "logic" absolutely has to be your fall-back excuse here, also, the heart just ruins everything with all that mushy crap) will try and justify your behaviour so that your conscience just shuts the f**k up. Go with it. It will make you genuinely believe that you're doing nothing wrong, leading to even more indifference. Isn't that just absolutely wonderful?

So, to summarise :
1. Be indifferent
2. Let yourself show some emotion every once in a while
3. Go back to being indifferent.

1, 2, 3 - it really is as simple as that.

I am a woman. I am beautiful.

2011-09-21T00:24:00.001+05:30

You feel unattractive. You look in the mirror sometimes, hating yourself, hating your body, desperately wanting to be someone else. You find yourself wishing (sometimes with so much negativity, it scares you), that you were just a little thinner, just a cup size bigger, just a shade fairer, just a bit taller.

You hate yourself. You cry. You hate yourself some more.

Because you don't see what I see.

I see your eyes. They're warm. They've seen love, they've known hate. They've witnessed ridicule and mockery, they've shed tears for men that don't deserve anything.

I see your smile, like a ray of sunshine on a cold, dark, cloudy day.

I see the way your eyes scrunch up when you laugh. I hear your laughter. Like innocence.

I see a glow on your face that no make-up can replicate.

I see the soft curls of your hair.

I see the uninterrupted smoothness of your skin.

I see the pain etched in every fibre of your being, of men and women in your past - I see you stand tall and look the world in the eye with strength that can only come from that kind of pain.

I see how much you give. You give, give, and give some more, and rarely get anything in return.

I see you light up like a full moon in the darkest night sky, your sheer brilliance, your radiance, that heart of gold, makes all the stars around you look like bits of tin foil.

How can you not see what I see?

How can you let someone tell you otherwise?

Big, medium-sized, small, tall, short, big breasts, no breasts, skinny, fat, long hair, short hair, no hair - it doesn't matter.

You're beautiful for who you are, for who you've become, for the way you've graciously accepted everything life has thrown your way, for the way you can smile through anything.

You are gorgeous when you close your eyes and tilt your face up towards the sun.

You are stunning when the wind blows through your hair and when you dance in the rain.

Here's the thing, see. It's not about how skinny you are. It never has been. Society's definition of beauty changes every decade. Nobody has the right to make you feel unattractive. No one is perfect enough to tell you that you're not.

Ignore the immature. Forgive them, for they can't see what I see. They have so much more to learn. Love brings happiness, it is beautiful, more so when you know you're with someone that doesn't care about your wait-to-hip ratio. That kind of happiness radiates from the core of your being. It makes you stronger.

You are a woman. You are beautiful. You have some meat on your bones? That's okay. You are skinny and flat-chested? That's okay, too. It doesn't define who you are, you see. It doesn't change who you can be. Some day soon, someone will love you for who you are. There will be no mockery, no "I-was-joking" insults, no pressure, however subtle or unintentional, on you to change who you are, change what you look like. There will be no "if only"s, no side-stepping, no embarrassment to tell people that you're together. Just love, pure and simple, the kind that makes you smile for no reason, the kind that makes you feel as beautiful as you are.

Unconditional, unchanging, solid, happy love that makes you want to tell everyone you know how amazing it is to know that someone loves you for exactly who you are.

You deserve that kind of love.

You are beautiful.

Tonight

2011-09-07T22:22:00.000+05:30

Tell me something I want to hear.
You love me,
You need me.
Show me how much I mean to you.
I love it when you do.

Look into my eyes,
Make me lose my train of thought.
Make my heart skip a beat,
My pulse race.
Take my breath away.

Put your lips
Against my hair,
Your arms around me.
Pull me closer,
And tell me something I want to hear.

Breathe.

2011-09-06T18:00:00.002+05:30

‎Follow that sinking feeling and collapse, fall to the earth in despair.

Be a bird for a while, break out of that golden cage, and soar as high as your fear will let you.

Feel the dizzying passion of a single glance across the river, drowning out every sound except that of your heartbeat.

Experience that innocent blush, that fiery anger, that first touch, that heady rush of love.

Lash out in anger, cower in fear, cry out in pain, jump for joy.

...There is nothing more liberating than dance.

It's almost time.

2011-08-28T12:32:00.000+05:30

There's a fire starting in my heart,
Reaching a fever pitch and it's bring me out the dark.
Finally I can see you crystal clear
Go ahead and sell me out and I'll lay your shit bare.

See how I'll leave, with every piece of you
Don't underestimate the things that I will do.

There's a fire starting in my heart,
Reaching a fever pitch and it's bring me out the dark.

The scars of your love, remind me of us.
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless
I can't help feeling

We could have had it all
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside your hand
And you played it
To the beat

Baby I have no story to be told
But I've heard one of you and I'm gonna make your head burn,
Think of me in the depths of your despair
Making a home down there as mine sure won't be shared

The scars of your love, remind you of us.
They keep me thinking that we almost had it all
The scars of your love, they leave me breathless
I can't help feeling

We could have had it all
Rolling in the deep
You had my heart inside your hand
And you played it
To the beat

Throw your soul threw every open door
Count your blessings to find what you look for
Turn my sorrow into treasured gold
You pay me back in kind and reap just what you sow

I. Love. This. Song.

Pick me

2011-08-18T20:30:00.000+05:30

"Okay here it is. Your choice. It' s simple. Her or me. And I'm sure she's really great. But... I love you.... in a really, really big ... pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window...unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me. Choose me. Love me."

--
Meredith Grey
'Grey's Anatomy'

Make a move. Make a choice. Either break my heart with everything you've got, so I never fall in love again and put myself through this again...or love me with everything you've got and make me the happiest woman on the planet.

Escape

2011-06-26T10:28:00.002+05:30

Why won't you let me love you?

A simple question. A loaded gun. Let's play a little game of Russian Roulette.

Just pull the trigger. There is no pain greater than this.

Convince yourself that you don't deserve it. Self pity, such a shame.

Drown.

Gasp for breath, cry. Scream.

No one can hear you.

This is what you deserve. Serves you right. One simple rule - don't ever trust. Anyone. Serves you right. You deserve this. Pull the trigger.

Love. One word. Once, just once, it brought a smile to your lips, colour to my cheek. It was never your choice to make.

One word that single-handedly destroyed us. Everything. Me.

You're fine. You always are. You will be. Always.

Mistakes. Pain. Loss. Silence. Pain. Tears.

In this tug-of-war, you'll always win, even when I'm right...

Falling in love again? There's an end in sight, more pain.

Go on... Fall. Plummet. Crash. The end is near.

There is no light at the end of the tunnel. Just darkness, cold and pure. Comforting, calming, clarifying darkness.

Masochist. That'll teach you.

Cry your tears, learn your lesson. Swear to yourself that it will never happen again... Then turn around and do it all over again.

For the love of pain, for the love of love.

Pull the trigger. There is no pain greater than this. Silly, delusional woman-child. You don't deserve what's on the other side. This is what you get. This is what you deserve.

Grin and bear it. Learn to love the pain.

There is no escape.

3 Signs You're Dating A Retard (the good kind)

2011-06-09T17:22:00.001+05:30

You've always had your doubts - now you can be sure.

There are several kinds of retards. This particular kind may also be referred to as being "crack". So here they are - 3 Signs that tell you you're dating a retard :

Sign 1
He has no sense of timing. At all. Oh, he'll be punctual and everything if he needs to be, but won't know what to say when. Which brings us to

Sign 2
He says the lamest, most inappropriate things. Things that don't make sense. Things that have no context.
Which leaves you with a tough choice to make - hit him over the head? Or laugh at how absurd the whole thing is?

Sign 3
He goes from having a very serious conversation/discussion to goofing off and saying lame, inappropriate things (as mentioned above) in less than 30 seconds. Yes, he will actually let you time him, if you ask. He might even be more enthusiastic about it than you.

--
Disclaimer : The word "retard" is used here colloquially, and does not mean "late" or "affected by mental retardation". :/

What are you doing tonight?

2011-05-31T23:29:00.000+05:30

Maybe I'm saying too much,
After all, I just met you
But I've got to say just what I feel
I hope it won't upset you -

I think you're the one
I've been dreaming of,
With a little time
We might fall in love.

So what're you doing tonight?
What're you doing tonight?
The wind is warm and the stars are bright -
What're you doing tonight?

Maybe I'm going too fast?
I really don't want to crowd you.
And who knows,
Maybe I'm wrong -
I know so little about you

But I think you're the one
I've been dreaming of,
With a little time
We might fall in love.

What're you doing tonight?
What're you doing tonight?
The wind is warm and the stars are bright -
What're you doing tonight?

--
Can't find this song anywhere...remember listening to it as a child.

A beginning

2011-05-30T21:12:00.001+05:30

The café is noisy. Talking people. Music.

She looks up to find his eyes locked on hers, and for a moment, everything, including her heart, stills.

A moment.
A moment of silence.
A moment of not being able to think, not being able to breathe.

They're sitting next to each other, talking without saying words. They smile, laugh, and sing along to the (sometimes) sappy songs blaring through the speakers. Just two people enjoying a latte, a synthetic orange juice, and each other's company.

She's wondering what's on his mind when he's looking at her like that. She wants to ask him, but knows he'll (probably) say, "nothing". She wants to look up, look into his eyes, hold his gaze, but knows she can't...not in public...

Not when her pulse races every time he looks at her like that... Not when her breath catches like that.

It's been eight days. Eight days of texting and laughter. It had been so long, she'd almost forgotten.

Long after they've said goodbye, she finds herself smiling at something retarded he's said or done.

A joke.

A compliment.

He's so different from anyone else she's known - refreshingly honest, for one. Secure, confident, smart, funny... He makes her laugh. He makes her day, sometimes unknowingly, just being himself.

Most importantly, she finds it so easy to be herself around him...there are no masks, no hidden agendas, no mind games, no passive-aggressive control issues, no power plays.

He's on her mind, and she's started to realise that she likes having him around.

Maybe...

She looks at him over her latte, smiling to herself as he sings along.

Maybe.

The Essential (Incomplete) Guide To Dating Part I - What Kind of Date Are You On?

2011-05-25T01:32:00.001+05:30

I like dates.

Not the grow-on-trees variety, but the charming-and-possibly-good-looking-man variety. Okay, well, I like both, but for now, let's stick to the latter.

Right. So. Let's get started.

What Kind Of Date Are You On?

1. The Boring Blind Date
Your friend(s) thought it would be really cool to get the two of you talking. It's the "O.M.G.!!!! He's so cute! You TOTALLY have to meet him...he's just your type!!!" kind of thing.
You get there, and after the first half hour, realise that there is absolutely nothing to talk about. At all.
The rest of the date goes by slowly, filled with disturbingly loud awkward silences and general chit chat about the weather.

2. The Awkward Sexual Tensions Date
You meet, sparks fly, and people around you feel uncomfortable because you're giving off the "you-me-bed-right-now" vibes without really touching each other or even looking at each other.
Rest of the date involves looking into each other's eyes, looking anywhere else to try and slow the building tension, and then a mad dash for the nearest private/secluded area.

3. The Wow, You're Boring Date
Self explanatory. You meet, one party talks incessantly about the only thing he/she knows about, probably because he/she knows that if any other topic of conversation is brought up, he/she is going to look/sound like a bimbo/blonde/very stupid/kinda dumb/like a moron (etc).
The rest of the date involves trying to find something you can BOTH talk about. Does not usually end well.

4. The We're So In Love, We Make People Around Us Want To Throw Up Date
You're so in love, you walk into walls/doors/pillars/electric poles/unsuspecting people/off a steep cliff, because you're too busy looking into each other's eyes and wordlessly declaring your undying love for and devotion to each other. It's all rainbows and sunshine, and people around you want to kill you because you're in the way.
The rest of the date involves possible PDA (which is illegal/frowned upon in a lot of places, so beware), calling each other ridiculous pet names, and being generally disoriented.

5. The Why Don't You Love Me Too Date
Obvious power play here. One person is clearly calling the shots, while the other desperately tries to do anything and everything to make an impression/prove their undying love and devotion. It's sad to watch and makes people around you look away in shame/embarrassment.
The rest of the date involves grovelling and begging and possibly some anger/frustration. It can end in really good behind-closed-doors um..."stuff", or in tears/anger.

6. The Pity Date
The best and worst kind. By definition, this happens when one person is way out of the other's league, but asks the latter out anyway out of pity/out of the goodness of his or her heart/out of curiosity/out of "maybe he or she has a good personality or something I can work with"/out of "meh. I guess he or she will do for now"/out of "not my type, but let me see where this goes".
The date involves very friend-zone talking, hugging and mild flirting. Some eye contact may be involved, which may be misleading to either party if not clarified immediately with a "huh? Oh...no, no. I wasn't thinking anything. Just looking". Date may end well, with a lingering kiss that leaves you wanting more, a long hug and plans for the next time. Date may end badly with a handshake and friend-zone short hug that essentially says "I'm kinda not into you, but thanks anyway, I had a great time". Date may also end with a body-contact 'mmm...you smell nice'/'mmm...this feels good' hug, an awkward kiss on the cheek and one party talking too much because of sudden, unexplained nervousness.

--
Disclaimer
If this hurts or offends you in any way, good. Also, the list is kinda incomplete. Additions will be made in the future depending on experiences.

Closure

2011-05-22T23:10:00.001+05:30

I'm kicking you out of my heart - officially. You don't deserve me.

I'll always be here for you if and when you need someone to talk to, a shoulder to cry on, or someone that will tell you how stupid you're being. Especially if you need someone to tell you how stupid you're being, but let's not go there now.

I deserve better. Someone that will treat me right. Someone who will make me laugh more than he makes me cry. Someone who will want to have me around, be proud to point to me and say, "yeah...I'm with her".

Don't get me wrong - you're a great guy. We've had some great times, and you'll always be one of the few men that make me feel safe...protected. I would still blindly trust you with my life. You're such a good person.

It breaks my heart to see your low self-esteem get the better of you.

You see, you let me convince myself that I wasn't worth it. It's my fault for even going there - but you did nothing to stop it. You played your passive aggressive manipulative mind games, hoping that I'd be broken enough to lean on no one but you for support, and that way, you'd have me around forever.

So let me clarify.

Yes, I will always be around - but that is by choice, not because I cannot live without you.

No, you came nowhere close to breaking me. I spent hours crying myself to sleep every night, regretting everything, every decision I made, every single thing I could have said or done differently. The pain was nearly unbearable. It took so much out of me to smile, to act normal. It hurt. You didn't break me...and I have my closest friends to thank for that - for reminding me that I'm too strong to let someone like you tear me apart.

This is goodbye in a lot of ways. It feels good.

After all this time, all it took was one line from you. I know you said it in anger - it hurt anyway.

I'll say it again - thank you for giving someone else the opportunity to get to know me.

Thank you for making it so easy for me to let go.

Hello there, blue eyes...

2011-05-19T20:54:00.000+05:30

It's been a while since I played The Game.

When I finally found a worthy opponent, he disappeared on me. [:(]

I found myself looking for him all day today - but of course, he wasn't around.

It's disappointing, considering the lack of decent-looking men in this city.

*sigh*

Maybe tomorrow. A girl can hope, right?

In other news, no wait. Eyes. His eyes.

They were blue.

Maybe tomorrow?

Can't Touch This

2011-05-19T00:35:00.000+05:30

All you had to do was take that tiny step, take a chance, risk it...but you were too afraid.

That's a good thing for me - no, really.

See, I'm worth so much more, and now someone else has the chance to see that, so I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

He's around the corner. He's going to be willing to hold on to me, no matter what, and he's going to be a very happy man.

Yes, I have my insecurities, like every woman.
I have days when I feel like I'm worth nothing.
I have days when I don't want to get out of bed and face the world.

Your words.
Your silences.
Your hesitation.

A wake up call, a moment of clarity.

You made me realise how foolish I was being. I kept trying to understand where you were coming from, why you were saying and doing all those things, and, in the process, I forgot all about me.

I forgot to congratulate myself for being so strong, for not falling apart, for not giving in, for not giving up.

I forgot that I've been through a lot too - it's not just you.

I forgot that I learnt valuable lessons from my experiences and mistakes.

I forgot to forgive myself, understand myself, and care for myself...because I was so busy trying to make your life easier.

It's a two-way street...and you just proved, in so many ways, that you don't deserve me.

Thank you for making it easier for me to let go.

This is goodbye.

A short post for a special someone

2011-05-12T19:52:00.000+05:30

Hey, you. :)

Thank you for today. I can't stop smiling...and can't believe how easy it was - like we never lost touch in the first place.

It's rare, feeling so comfortable with someone after so many years.

So much has changed...and yet, so much is still the same...and I'm glad (yes, I know I keep saying that).

So here's my dedication to you, this short blog post. Because you can't handle anything longer...because you don't want "depth".

You're as adorable as ever... I can see what I saw in you back then. Please don't ever change.

Much love,
Your pillar. :)

I want it. It is you. You are where I want to be.

2011-05-07T22:35:00.000+05:30

I want you to want me.

I want to be able to run into your arms when I'm afraid.

I want to be comforted by you, by the warmth of your soul.

I want to feel like the luckiest girl in the world.

I want to be the one you think you can show off to the world.

I want to be the one you think is worth your time, your love.

I want to sit next to you and not say anything.

I want to be the one you call when something goes wrong.

I want to be the one that makes you smile, even a little.

I want to dance for you.

I want to sing for you.

I want to show you what it means to be truly happy.

I want to show you that it shouldn't be this hard to fall in love, to be in love.

I want you to know that I'll stick around - no matter what.

I want you to believe that I'm worth it.

I want you to hold me close and not let go.

I want to be the last thought, the last image, on your mind before you fall asleep.

I want you to love me.

I hope you will forgive me...for this intensity, for everything.

I know I probably won't ever get what I want.

I wish it would stop hurting.

I wish I could switch off this part of my brain that thinks of no one but you.

I wish you'd realise how perfect we are. Together.

I want you to give us a chance.

Please do something, say something, before it's too late.

I'm caught up in you, spiralling out of control.

When I'm with you, when we talk, I feel like myself again.

You make it so easy for me to smile.

Please say something.

Break my heart with finality, or give me a glimmer of hope, however small.

Fight.

Fight with me, not against me.

I want you to realise that we're meant to be.

I want you to want me.

I want you to love me.

Toxic.

You're toxic.

Poison to my system.

The heaviness in my soul.

The one that makes me laugh.

The only one that makes me feel safe, protected.

The one.

I must dance again

And never stop dancing.

But, you see,

When I dance, I want you to be the one watching -

Not them.

I want you to love me.

Take a risk. Take a chance.

Pick me, choose me. Love me.

Poison paradise

2011-04-27T19:46:00.000+05:30

You're toxic.

Spread through my body,
Send a shiver down my spine
Make my body numb.

Make my mind spiral
Into that state of darkness
Where there's only you.

Now tell me again -
That I'm not the one for you
Now kiss me again.

Hold me in your arms
And brush your lips against mine
No more. No more, love.

Release me from you
Your lips, your kiss, you're toxic
I can't get enough.

Release me from you
Let me go, my love, let me
Run away, my love.

Poison paradise
Is what you always will be
Let me run away.

Release me.

Oh who am I kidding?

2011-04-23T21:41:00.000+05:30

Patheticity, or, Being Pathetic.

Characterised by :
Thinking about someone all the time
Sighing all the time
Waiting
Wishing
Wanting
Refusing to be distracted
Finding new meaning in random songs
Wanting to cry all the time

Other commonly occurring symptoms :
Insecurity
Insomnia
Red eyes
Puffy eyes
Need to write love letters
Crying for no good reason

The problem :
Wanting something you can't have, for multiple reasons
Feeling insecure because you can't have it, for multiple reasons
Feeling insecure because the feeling is one-sided, unrequited, for multiple reasons

Treatment options :
Cognitive retraining
De-addiction (intervention)

More drastic options :
Removal of Obstacle(s) [not recommended]

*
It's been so long...
It shouldn't be this hard.
You take so much out of her
And you don't even know it.
She can't trust any more.
He compliments her,
She refuses to let herself accept it.
He tells her he likes her,
She tells herself he's lying.
He goes offline, says goodbye,
And she feels insecure - lost.
You probably don't mean to,
You probably don't even know
That this is what you've done.
No, of course it's not
Your fault.
The fault is hers,
For falling in love.
The fault is hers,
For making assumptions.
It's her fault.
She's falling for him,
Being insecure,
Seeking reassurance
Every second
Of every minute
Of every hour
Of every day.
All the time.
You're on her mind
All the time
Taunting. Daring.
And you don't even know it.
Or do you?
*

Guess who's back?

2011-04-22T12:09:00.000+05:30

I am.

No more sighing and wishing and waiting and wanting.

The real me was on vacation for a bit and was thoroughly horrified by the state of my mind on return. A little spring cleaning happened last night and early this morning... It's time to stop being pathetic.

Reality check.

So. Abu Dhabi calls again, and I leave at 4:45 in the morning on Monday, the 25th. Not looking forward to being home, as usual, but nothing new there. The thought of spending two months with la familia in a city where I know no one is just plain depressing, of course, but let's try not to think about that.

Don't get me wrong - Abu Dhabi is a beautiful place to be, as long as you're not someone in your early twenties hanging out with your parents at the mall on a Friday evening. That's just sad.

*sigh*

In other news, I now (unofficially) have an M.Sc. - yay! Graduation is in June, and I'm hoping I can make it. I missed Glasgow. I miss walking down Buchanan Street and hearing bagpipes. I miss the warmth of the people and the madness that Saturday nights bring to city centre. I miss my friends.

I should be back in Bangalore in early July...can't wait. Hopefully it will be cooler by then and I can walk out of the house without feeling faint.

That's about it for now. Time to go pick out something to wear for tonight's dinner. I'm thinking black and slinky.

Ah, Romance

2011-04-16T22:47:00.000+05:30

I spent most of today with Boyce Avenue on my playlist, and now I'm falling in love all over again. Their covers are invariably better than the originals... I mean, they make Bruno Mars sound good.

Yeah. They're that good.

As part of research for some boring work-related project, I stumbled across several studies on what women look for in a man, and vice-versa. Which got me thinking - which is never a good thing.

So here it is...all the things I want in a man. Apart from the obvious (personal hygiene, no bad breath, good sense of humour and intelligence)

I want a man that will sing to me...sing for me. Nothing is hotter than a man with a voice...except a man who knows how to use said voice. While I would love it if he was crooning a slow, romantic song, I'd also appreciate a man that can pull off singing something absolutely nonsensical...like how frogs don't cry (song courtesy : my Silver Lining).

Ah, romance. Every woman's dream. Okay, maybe not every woman. Definitely my dream though. Interested candidates may contact me for an application form.

I'd appreciate a man that can dance...or is willing to at least try. Nothing beats being wrapped in someone's arms, swaying to music only the two of you can hear. Unless you're tiny and he's really tall - that's just all kinds of awkward. Trust me.

A man that's going to be okay with helping out around the house.

A man that loves his Mom.

A man that loves (and wants) kids.

A man that will be alright with just holding me close and letting me cry when I need to - no questions asked.

A man that understands that I have days when I feel so insecure, my biggest fear is that he'll walk out the door and find someone better... It's happened before, it can happen again. On days like that, all it takes is a long hug.

A man that doesn't hesitate to voice his opinions...but knows how to do it without being loud or obnoxious.

And I know this is a cliché, but I'd want a man who can make me feel like I'm the only woman he has eyes for.

Nothing else matters.

Check out Boyce Avenue...highly recommended by yours truly.

This is 'Just The Way You Are'

And this is 'Grenade', dedicated to my Silver Lining, who hates this song. :)

And now, I will go back to sighing and wishing for a man with a voice to fall desperately in love with me.

Silver lining : Of heartbreaks and smiles

2011-04-09T11:23:00.000+05:30

I've never really been a weekend person. I always liked waking up in the morning and having something to do, somewhere to be, someone to meet...that morning rush or getting everything done and flying out the door to meet the day.

This morning, I lay awake in bed for the longest time. The past week has been nothing short of torture, featuring a painful heartbreak and an unexpectedly shocking reality check.

It's the kind of pain that makes your mind go numb.

I didn't want to wake up. I didn't want to get out of bed. I wanted to just lie there, close my eyes, and cry. There were no more tears, of course. I'm all out. After days of crying, I can't say I'm surprised.

My mind, always eager to over analyze, wandered to everything that happened over the past few weeks. His painful words, that heartbreaking silence...everything. I felt a heaviness I can't describe, like my heart and soul had turned to stone. It weighed me down, made me feel like I was sinking, like I couldn't breathe.

Then I remembered last night...and the night before. I remembered that I hadn't laughed like that in a long time, hadn't felt so flattered, hadn't felt so...pretty. It's amazing what a little kindness, a smile, a compliment (or ten, or twenty), can do.

I'm smiling now... I found another silver lining. A new friend... An outrageous flirt.

The pain will take time to fade, yes. Until it does, I have these few people I can count on to make me smile...and I am so very grateful.

Itai desu.

2011-03-19T19:45:00.006+05:30

When they first met, she fell so hard, it scared her right out of her mind. And so, she did what she does best - she ran. Desperately, refusing to accept the possibility that she could really be happy.

In the three years that followed, she never got over him. He was always on her mind : His smile, the way he was always teasing her, the way he looked right into her soul every time he looked into her eyes...

Guilt? Yes, there was guilt. Guilt so strong, sometimes it felt like she couldn't breathe. It took so much effort to get out of bed every morning, to go through classes, projects, assignments, with all that guilt pulling her down, pulling her back. But the guilt was easy to deal with.

It was the pain that finally forced her to come back.

To find him in someone else's arms.

When a heart breaks, it shatters in silence. True story.

Have you ever wondered what gut-wrenching, soul-searing pain feels like?

It's the way you feel when you see what you could have had...when you know that you chose to let go of everything you ever wanted. It's knowing that you made a stupid mistake - and not being able to do anything about it but smile.

So she smiles. Puts on her mask when she meets him, puts on a smile when he talks about his girlfriend, puts up her defences whenever he puts his arms around her.

If she didn't, the pain would kill her.

She locks away that complete ease and sense of freedom she has when she's with him, forcefully reminds herself that he's happy now.

He doesn't need her.

He doesn't feel the same way.

He got over her, over what they had.

He's happy - with someone else.

Let him be. Let them be.

Nobody said it was easy...no one ever said it would be this hard.

It hurts.

(Special thanks to Miyuki-chan)

Oh, Bangalore!

2011-03-07T17:18:00.002+05:30

It's been a while.

I had almost forgotten how good it felt to be in Bangalore - the sights, the smells, the (often frustrating) people, the noisy rickshaws, the massive buses, the horrifying traffic...everything.

The heat is unbearable, of course.

As is the pain of facing old mistakes. Wounds that you thought had healed a long, long time ago, may still be open...pass the salt, please.

How much regret can one person have? Is there a limit? What happens when you cross that limit? Does your sanity start disintegrating?

Ah, Bangalore. It's good to be back.

Mac-and-cheese, anyone?

2010-07-19T01:47:00.003+05:30

As a child growing up in Riyadh, I couldn't wait for Saturdays.

Saturday was the first day of the week, which meant lunch would be instant noodles.

Oh, how I would wait.

I remember standing in the kitchen with my mandatory evening cup of milk on any other day of the week and looking longingly at the packets of noodles in the shelf, mentally counting the days till I could have it next. The cheese flavour and the chicken flavour were my absolute favourites. On Saturday, after school, I'd run back to the school bus instead of loitering around talking to friends, and wait impatiently for the driver to get the bus moving. Mom would start making the noodles as soon as I flew in the door, muttering about my love for "junk food".

I loved my Mom a little extra every Saturday.

Today, as a 22 year old woman living alone in Glasgow, I live on instant noodles and mac-and-cheese. "But there's no protein, no vitamins...nothing good!", you gasp. No kidding. Try being a(n international) student in the UK. Food is frighteningly expensive. 6 tomatoes (yes, 6) for £1.49. That's 8.3 Dirhams (AED) and 106.37 Indian Rupees (INR)! For 6 tomatoes!!!

After months of trying not to spend all my money in the first two weeks of the month, I figured I'd have to start living the student-life stereotype. My kitchen shelves now hold boxes of mac-and-cheese and instant noodles. The freezer holds a few bags of frozen vegetables and meat, used sparingly. The fridge holds some milk and eggs...sometimes, I splurge and buy some fresh fruit.

Funny how priorities change with age. I'm living every child's dream, and it's not as awesome as I thought it'd be.

Speaking of dreams, this morning's matinee featured a rather strange combination of Arabic food, make-up, surgery, and talking peas. Go figure.

Bleep

I'm back. Sort of.

2010-05-06T15:18:00.003+05:30

It's been a while since I last sat down to write something. My blog muttered irritably about neglect, but waited patiently for a new post – while I let myself get lazy and came this close to giving up doing something I so dearly love. I'm back now, though. I can't promise how frequently I'll update, just that I will. Update.

Let's recap then. I moved to Glasgow, Scotland, in September 2009 to do an MSc in Psychology. Because I like torturing myself like that. Three years of a gruelling Bachelors degree wasn't enough; I had to come back for more. Don't get me wrong – I love the course I'm doing. I'm just not sure if I love the work that comes with it. Essay after essay, lab report after lab report, spending all my time in front of my laptop, always researching, always writing, cooped up in the library, the common room of our old building with the creaky floors and stairs, the postgraduate study space that's always invariably missing a few lights... I'm burned out. Stringing together a coherent sentence has become a chore. Forcing myself to re-write every line to sound “academic”, trying to find new ways to inspire myself, failing to set any realistic goals...failing to write...

I'm exhausted. Writing has become a chore. I just cannot string together words to form a coherent thought, let alone put that down as a sentence. I'm losing my love for writing...and slowly losing my love for Psychology. It scares me.

I've realised that I can't do this for much longer. I have three essays due over the next three weeks – following two extensions. Then I have a dissertation to work on. Which is like writing a book, only less fun.

I am not academic. I don't do formal writing.

Writing essays and doing assignments for my Bachelors degree was strenuous, but at least I had the option to do something creative, like make the essay anecdotal, or begin an assignment with a free verse – even in Psychology. My professors found it weird, maybe even amusing. Either way, I did well.

Today I find myself depressed at the very thought of writing. My grades are slipping. It gets worse with each submission.

Essays must be academic – the kind of boring you swore you'd never torture other people with – anything else is just unacceptable.

I get it, really, I do. The course is supposed to provide me with skills that will come in use for my future as a professional in the field. Skills required to read and understand stuffy academic journal articles, maybe even write a few along the way. It's a depressing, sad reality. I have always wondered why authors and publishers write only for a selected audience. I have a friend who argues that any form of casual writing is “unfit” for a professional space. I ask, why the hell not? At the end of the day, it's just communication between two or more people. There should always be a certain level of professionalism – I'm not saying that people should be going to work in shorts and a tee and lounging about with no set times or deadlines. It's the small things. Like writing. But of course, it's unacceptable. If I were to submit my essay tonight written in such a casual tone, I'd probably get a D. Maybe some day, in about a couple of decades, people will start writing like they speak and students of Psychology won't cry at the thought of writing 3500 words for each essay, three essays and three lab reports every semester, plus a dissertation.

Unless the way people speak in a couple of decades is formal and academic-sounding. In which case, I'd ask someone to give them some loose fitting clothes, a drink, and a relaxed environment. Throw in some sarcasm, write like you speak, speak like you're talking to your childhood best friend or gossiping about someone in high school. No one said growing up and going to work had to be boring.

And you wonder why you have no friends outside your professional circle.

So this is how it is.

2009-09-10T03:37:00.001+05:30

I don't know.
Do I?

I don't.

Do you?
I don't think you do...

Why?
Do you know?

You look away again.
You're not touching me.

What?
Did I do something wrong?

Do you still...?
I do.
Do you?

It's cold.
I miss you.
Do you?

I don't know.
Do I?

I'm unsure.
A hug?
Warmth?

What's that?
You don't want...?

Oh.

I didn't know.

I still don't know.

Let's take a moment to clarify....

2009-09-01T22:00:00.004+05:30

I'm not who you want me to be.

I am short and overweight.
I have short stubby fingers and unattractive nails.
I don't have gorgeous hair or glowing skin (anymore).
I have scars on my skin that will never fade.
I don't have a sexy voice or a figure to die for.
My teeth are crooked and not sparkly white.
I have a few talents...like everybody else on the planet...but I'm not amazingly good at any of it.
I'm not incredibly funny, and I don't have a charming, winning personality. In fact, a lot of people don't think too highly of me the first time they meet me.

I can't be who you want me to be.

I don't trust people easily.
When I make friends, they're friends for life. I trust them with everything I have, and trust them not to tear me apart.
I don't date.
When I love/like someone, I give them everything I have.
I give them the power to break my heart.
And they do.

This is who I am.

I'm not perfect. I will never be.

I have my faults, lots of them.

I looked in the mirror just now and I wanted to cry.
I didn't like what I saw there anymore.
Frustrated, bitter and angry, I slid to my bedroom floor and shed a single tear.

This is what you do to me.

After all this time, all these years, this is what you do to me.

You're every guy that makes any girl feel worthless.
You're every guy that makes any girl feel like she must change just so you can love her a little more.
You're every guy that makes any girl want to put herself through hours of torture, hoping to see a smile on your face.

I'm not that girl.

I may not be tall, or sexy, or have a great figure. I may not have great skin, perfectly manicured nails, and beautiful hair. I may not be a super star, or the most popular person you know.

But I'm beautiful. I'm a good person. I've been knocked down so many times, but I've gotten up again. Over and over again. I'm a survivor. I love myself for what I am, faults included. Don't you ever forget that. Don't you ever try to make me feel otherwise.

You have no right.

I don't belong to you.

Pay Attention to Road Signs!

2009-07-30T03:16:00.003+05:30

You've seen it happen a lot of times, you've laughed about it...or even felt strangely sympathetic about it...but when you suddenly find yourself in the same situation, you're left feeling rather amused.

There are all these roads...some roads lead to some major event...others lead to people...others lead to dead ends...we walk down these roads all the time on this very sub-conscious level...and sometimes, we wind up on some random street, forgetting to read the signs.

I'm on such a street now. See, I probably thought it was a two-way street, as most streets on this side of town are...turns out it's a one way, and rather dimly lit. There's sweet music playing somewhere, and a faint scent of laughter lingers in the air, but I don't know what I'm doing on this street, or how I got here. I don't know what lies at the end of this street; all I know is that I can't turn back. And I'm amused...running my fingers through my hair and glancing in either direction, feet firmly rooted in one place, not wanting to move ahead, not willing to break the rules and turn back either.

What lies at the end of this street?

Will it lead to the road from where the music comes?

Will it lead to a dead end?

Should I just wait here and hope for company?

Should I just walk on ahead anyway and take my chances?

So many questions...when you're standing on a dimly lit street with high walls on either side of you and no way of turning back, there are no answers, no options. You're either stuck, or you're not.

Better move and than be stuck...

Right?

Dormant Volcano, Dead Cockroach

2009-07-28T15:35:00.002+05:30

This blog post is dedicated to men who don't know how to respect women, men who take their women for granted, and women who have some sort of dependency disorder and continue to stand by aforementioned men.

In lieu of recent events, I have come to the conclusion that in a lot of cases, this "love" thing leads to stupidity, irrational decision-making, and blurring of thought processes. Love brings pain, sometimes even physical, and a lot of confusion. Love convinces you that you don't need to get out of a relationship that brings you pain, because you're "in love" with the person.

I have news for stupid people. Being in love shouldn't ever be that hard. Yeah, you have your ups and downs, but when it starts forming a pattern, it's time to slap yourself in the face and look at the whole thing again.

Wake up, woman! If he really loves you as much as he says he does, he's not going to be hurting you so selfishly. And you guys...I don't know what it is about you guys that make you think you're superior in any way to women. You have NO right, whatsoever, to raise your hand in any situation. If you think you do, you need to get your head examined. Preferably by me.

All you men out there, you disturbed characters responsible for deaths, bruises, suicides, cutting, tears, pain, and fear, your day will come soon...what you do unto others invariably comes back to you.

If not, contact me, I can arrange for a pit to be dug. Take your pick from a wide range of slow tortures. My favourite is the one where you're burnt alive, little by little.

*curses under breath and glares at mental image of person this was inspired by*

Addiction...

2009-07-28T02:24:00.004+05:30

I'm back...after a long, long hiatus...surprisingly enough, my inspiration for this blog post comes from a rather unusual source.

Of late, you'll find me glued to my laptop, quietly chuckling to myself, or smiling...it's like some cheesy song straight out of a Bollywood movie, minus the perfectly synchronized dancers in gaudily coloured costumes in the back. And no, I'm not in love.

It's just that every moment I'm away from my laptop, I'm either smiling, or waiting to get back... Every moment I'm away from home, I can't wait to get back, and once I get back, before I even take off my shoes, I make a beeline for the laptop.

It's just that my dreams are now being invaded, and my every waking moment is spent either smiling, or waiting online, or smiling...you get the drift.

It's just that now I stay up really late into the night, and when I say goodbye and get into bed, I grin at the shadows and whisper a name, liking the way it sounds against my lips.

It's just that now even though I wake up early, I can't be tired...I just do everything I have to and wait patiently for a window to appear on my laptop screen.

It's just that I'm incredibly scared to admit that I may be devastatingly attracted to a smooth-talking, intelligent man with a sexy voice...a man I've known for barely a week.

There should be a cure for this sort of thing...

Act V, Scene III

2009-06-12T23:29:00.002+05:30

It's like a slap in your face.

A new picture, innocent in its place, smirks at you from your laptop screen, and it should be okay, you should be okay with it, but something inside begins to hurt, with that familiar ache. New links clicked, pages change. The pain remains and you pretend not to notice. Ignorance is bliss, they say. What's that? No guarantees? Hold on while I go ask for a refund.

In a few days your life will change faster than you can snap your fingers. Leaving behind friends and feelings, you have to move on...there's nothing left for you here anymore. Don't even consider opening that other offer letter. Staying here brings pain. Leave. There's nothing for you here anymore.

It's like a slap in your face.

Running away is so much easier. Pretend you can't see the obvious, turn away and breathe normally. When pain rams into you with the force of a freight truck and knocks you off your feet, laugh at how silly you are, get up, smile, and move on. There's nothing for you here anymore. There's no point in staying to fight. Leave.

How do you say goodbye? Two and a half years is long time. When you get used to having him around, when you get used to knowing that he'll always be there no matter what, when you get used to knowing that he's always just a phone call away? What happens then? That last hug, that hesitation to let go, that last intertwining of your fingers. So many lasts. What happens now, now that there's that sense of finality? The knowledge that this is the last time? What happens when something rooted so deep is going to be pulled out, taking a part of you with it?

It's like a slap in your face.

It stings. It hurts. It leaves you dazed. It leaves a mark. It's real. It's a slap in your face.

SoP blues...

2009-06-05T21:18:00.002+05:30

I've been sitting at my laptop for a couple of days now, trying to frame an essay that will convince the Admissions Offices of universities to accept me as a student. It's tough.

Why do I love psychology? I just do! Why do I want to study Child Psychology? Because I like kids and the way their minds work. What are my future plans with regard to the course? I really don't know, I'm hoping to get a job somewhere!

And then of course, why am I suited for this course? Because I'm told that I'm good at understanding people. And that I'm better at understanding children. Also because, apparently (credit to RoMan for this) I have "too much empathy" for my own good.

What am I supposed to say?? Whatever I type onto that blank page sounds so corny, I wouldn't give me admission!

Very depressing...but then again, it's inspired me to blog after a long time.

Well, in other news, I passed my Driver's License exam today, making me a "driver", according to my Dad.

Also went to BU today, which is conveniently situated in the middle of nowhere (like our apartment here in the city, and like the airport). The campus is huge, the people are rude and obnoxious, and there were no students anywhere. Go figure. For my fellow graduates (how I love saying that) who are applying for various certificates through BU, be warned - if you thought the office people in our (ex) college were rude and impossible, you'll be stunned by the (ahem) warmth and love you get at BU.

In yet other news, I had my first professional-ish movie audition the other day. It didn't work out, but was quite an experience! (Okay, be honest...how many of you have that horrified expression on your face? The one that says "What?? Wait...let me read that again - she said something positive? Impossible!! Gasp!!!"? Go on..be honest. I won't judge.) Well, but yeah, things seem to be finally looking up on this side of hell. (I'm currently listening to sappy love-is-lost songs, but let's just ignore that, yeah?)

Well, I must go back to staring at that blank document. It fascinates me. Empty space. I like empty spaces.

No wait...correction. I like dark empty spaces.

Fear

2009-05-27T22:20:00.004+05:30

It's a perfectly natural response to...anything. But when it comes to fearing the future, things get especially complicated. Do you take a risk and then take things as they come? Or do you just leave things be and play it safe?

Case I - Take a risk, because the only things you regret in life are the risks you never took.

So you plunge in. You say, yeah, I know I'm probably going to get hurt...but this is what I want, and I'm going to try anyway. Two outcomes -

Perfect scenario - Things work out. You get what you want, things work out eventually despite a rough road, and everybody's happy.

Worst case - Things don't work out, either in the beginning, or towards the end. You end up disappointed, life feels like hell.

So I'm thinking... So what if things don't work out? At least you've given it a shot...sure, life will be hell for a while afterward, but things will look up again, right? (Someone with the optimism gene please continue this...I don't do optimism.)

Case II - Play it safe, because it's better to be safe than hurt in the future.

So you leave things the way they are. Life feels like crap, but you're glad that you know that what you feared won't happen.

Perfect scenario - Things work out. Something else comes along, and life starts to look better.

Worst case - You wake up 7 years down the line and look at your life, and think, "What if I had given it a shot?" ...and you won't know, because it's just too late.

So I'm thinking... I don't know which is worse...playing it safe and spending everyday hoping for something better to come along, or playing it safe and then waking up in another 7 years wishing for a time machine.

The solution?

Go ahead and take the plunge while being prepared for the worst? Or play it safe and pray to every supernatural being you know?

That is the question(s).

Of warm, fuzzy feelings

2009-05-24T23:44:00.002+05:30

Yes, I'm still single.

Met El today after a long time. It's amazing what meeting someone you love after ages can do to you. I already feel happier. We roamed around playing tour guide to Dr. Tourist, shopping for kurtas, speaking in ridiculous south Indian accents, eating chaat, and trying to convince Dr. Tourist that it was scientifically impossible to "fly out of an auto" (yes, the yellow and black three-wheeled contraptions). Sample conversation -

Dr. T - "Oh no...ohno ohno ohno ohno...*yelp*...aaah!!! ohno no no no *hold onto sides of auto*"

El - "Chill ya...nothing will happen unless the auto topples or something"

Me - (mockingly) "AAAH!! Oh no!!! We're all gonna die!!! AAH!!"

So yes, we had a really good time. El kept us entertained with little tidbits of information - history and culture mainly...and then some geography. Apparently a couple of years ago, the place I'm staying in now wasn't even part of this city. :/ Go figure.

The highlight of the day was finding a shop named "Dirty Fashions (for the pretty ones)" on Comm Street. Very amusing. According to El, at one point of time, back when this city "was a sane South Indian place", women didn't really wear trousers or t-shirts, and this shop was the only place things like that were available. Hence the name. I'm still smiling.

Also met Ergoplum today, but of course, the boy was too busy and couldn't spend more than 3 minutes with me. hmph...best friend it seems.

Well, coming back to the point, warm fuzzy feelings are in fashion today. El is like my personal happy place/person. Get yours today.

Choir practice starts tomorrow morning at the Place-Where-I-Studied for our graduation ceremony, which is on the 30th. Yes, I'm (finally) graduating. All of us in the choir who are graduating will be singing (yes, for our own graduation). I can't wait. If there's one thing I'll miss about college life, it's singing with the choir.

Well, that's about it for now. Must sleep. Ta, my loves!

Liar, Liar

2009-05-21T01:15:00.002+05:30

Remember those fairy tales you read when you were little? About the prince and the princess who went through all the crap and managed to find each other in the end and live happily ever after?

It's a lie.

The whole bleeding thing...the entire lot of them...all lies. In the real world, the prince and the princess go through all the crap and then hurt each other and walk out of each other's lives. It's what we do best as people.

We run.

It's so much easier. Run in the other direction, lock yourself in a room with the curtains drawn.

Darkness is always comforting.

In fairy tales, darkness is evil and cold. In the real world, darkness is solace and comfort. It's your safety net. No one lies to you in the dark. No one sees tears or pain. It's all good.

They're all liars.

They make you believe that true love is worth everything in the end. They lied. All of them. In the end the only thing you have is a goodbye note in one hand and your hospital bills in the other.

And yet, we're fools.

We convince ourselves that it will never happen again, that it's impossible for it to happen again. But Cupid is a sly, cunning and ruthless predator. Just the slightest slip, a pause for rest even, and he'll strike.

Stupid little winged arrow-shooting sadist.

Rare moment...

2009-04-23T23:21:00.004+05:30

This is one of those rare moments in my life when I'm feeling romantic. Just go with it, yeah?

Following talk of marriage and preparations for related events, I realized today that I'd want a man who, every once in a while, will pamper me a little...not all the time, but every once in a while...'coz it feels good to be taken care of, to have someone wanting you to be happy.

I'd want a man who'd want nothing more than to see me smile. Now this may sound a little out of character for me, but I'd like to be with a man whose world revolves around me...I'm not being egoistic here, mind. Call it a...childish fantasy, if you will. I'm entitled to my moments of girly, thank you very much. At the risk of sounding like your local high school cheerleader/bimbo/prom queen, I'd want a man that will treat me like a princess. (Yes, princess. I couldn't find another word for it. Goddess didn't fit.)

I'd want to end up married to a man who loves me more than anything or anyone else in the world. And yes, when I marry, it will be for love.

Okay. That's about my limit of mushy for the day. Now I will be myself.

So yes, I know I promised to write more often and then completely disappeared off the grid, but in my defense, I'm on HOLIDAY. (Read : I've been lazy.)

So... being at home has been rather tough, tougher than I expected. I didn't study in this city, and thus have no friends here. Two of my friends from college, Lebz and Manny are here too...of course, Manny had to run off and go to the UK for a trip...and Lebz and I are both bored. And lazy. Well, more like lazy and bored. But yeah, whatever. One feeds the other.

Anyway, so turns out Abu Dhabi is The Place To Be. There's so much to do here, except that I don't fancy doing ANY of those things with my Mom or sisters. I mean, yay family and all that crap, but hey...I'd rather sit at home and surf the net than go places with my family.

Well, big day tomorrow, so more later...!

P.S. - If any of you know a guy that matches the description above, let me know! NOW!

Abu Dhabi calling. Answered.

2009-04-09T19:10:00.003+05:30

Yes, I'm back, after a long break. And yes, I missed you all.

So I'm home, on my first vacation in three years. I landed yesterday and I'm already bored.

Ill Effects Of Being Over-Worked # 137 - You get bored on your first day of vacation and don't know the meaning of the word "relax".

None of my journeys ever go without a glitch, given my luck. This time, surprisingly, I didn't miss my flight, didn't have a connection flight to (literally) run after, didn't have a creepy weirdo making passes at me, and didn't have an extended wait at the airport while my flight decided whether or not it wanted to be more than two hours late.

But of course, something has to go wrong. So I had excess baggage. 3900 INR worth excess baggage. That's about 315 AED. Not fun. I mean, that was a LARGE portion of all the money I had saved up for so long!!! Very irritating.

Then I had a relatively uneventful flight to Dubai. Except the handsome steward. * sigh *...ever wondered how all the good ones are invariably taken, married, gay or dead? After landing in Dubai, I had my co-passenger's heavy trolley bag fall on my head from the overhead locker, waited in the parking lot for an hour till the bus going to Abu Dhabi decided to show up, and then got home to two screaming sisters and a very, very emotional mother.

So much for that.

I'm BORED!

Coming soon: Things to do in Abu Dhabi. Watch this space.

I have to start putting up my CV on those annoying job sites now. * sigh *

Well, so much for the What's-Happening-In-My-Life post...watch this space for more stuff...I'm bored out of my wits now, so will update soon. (Read : A Lot)

Ta!

Graduation Wish List

2009-03-31T20:43:00.002+05:30

Okay, parents, it's time. I'm going to be graduating on May 30th. Now, some people I know are being gifted cars and apartments and stuff...but my wish-list is more...finance-friendly. :D So here goes, the one list that every girl makes without fail -

THE GRADUATION WISH LIST

1. A kitten. No, really. They're fun, they don't smell, and they take care of themselves. Cats are the best pets to have. And I love them.

2. The Nokia MusicExpress 5610. Yes, Dad, I can see you narrowing your eyes, but I need a new phone anyway, and might as well get this one. Very nice model. And much better than that Samsung HyperSensitive thing you're carrying around.

3. A digital SLR. I mean, drool!!!

4. A kitten.

5. A really nice saree for the graduation ceremony.

Yeah...that's it.

See? I said I'd be nice...!

:D :D

Packing up my life...

2009-03-29T21:59:00.002+05:30

It's not easy. No one said it would be.

Packing up three years into suitcases.

Throwing away photocopies, copies of assignments, assignments, old exam papers...

Packing up my books right at the bottom of the bag I won't be taking home with me.

Looking at my room, my home for the past two years, clothes strewn around like dazed hurricane victims, books and papers lying around as my room mate packs her belongings into her numerous bags.

I had to leave. I can't stay in that room right now.

The pain...the pain of flipping through the back pages of your note book and finding an exchange there, a fading memory of a boring lecture that my best friend and I found so hilarious.

Finding poetry by B and I, illogical scribbles that made sense to no one but me and him.

It hurts. SO much. To leave behind the people you love, to pack up three years' worth of memories.

You end this life and start on a new page somewhere else, somewhere new, with new people, new friends, new lifestyle.

And it's scary. Incredibly frightening. To think of the unfamiliar. To be unsure.

What am I going to do next? What if I don't make friends? Where will I work? Will anyone hire me? How trapped will I feel, to not have the freedom of living alone?

How long will it take before I lose it completely and go crazy?

So many questions. So many answers. So much pain, so much regret.

I miss you. Yes, I know you're reading this, and you know I'm talking about you. I miss you. Already. And you know the pain won't dull when I leave. For either of us.

I'm packing up my life, my love.

Is this goodbye?

Curtain Call...

2009-03-22T08:41:00.003+05:30

No, this is not my final post. I just like the sound of this title.

So...it's exam time, again. Nothing new there. As I have mentioned in about a hundred posts before this one, the only thing we seem to do in The Place Where I Study is write exams and do pointless assignments and projects.

Anyway. So tomorrow is my second paper, also the second most boring paper, Industrial Psychology. A surprisingly large number of people find this paper interesting. I don't. I can't stand it. My book is here too, right next to me, gesturing furtively while mouthing "look over here". Ignored.

So Body Shop (did I just see some of you sit up?) has this awesome slashed prices thing at Lido Mall, near Trinity Circle, M.G. Road, Bangalore, India, that I went to yesterday. Simply because I could live and die in a place that smells so good. For those of you who think I'm un-girly, think again! At least, in this case. If you gave me a million bucks I would spend 40% of it on Body Shop. I love those yummy smelling things. Maybe I should just quit Psychology and go into Aromatherapy. If my mom doesn't kill me first, that is.

(The other 60% will be spent on assorted technology, in case you were wondering. I can spend a whole day and not get bored in two places - an electronics store and Body Shop.)

So, yes, in case any of you darlings are thinking of buying me a goodbye gift, I would love a gift voucher from Body Shop.

For those of you selfish people who are not thinking of buying me a gift, I strongly recommend from Body Shop -
1. Strawberry Body Butter - absolute heaven, spreads on your skin in the most yummy way and is very non-greasy. Which is why I am in love with it.
2. 'Oceanus' Body Mist - olfactory delight, this one. Just puts you in a good mood. It has this very, very light fruity scent, barely detectable...makes you want more.
3. Strawberry Shower Gel - smells yummy, moisturizes, and is perfect for any skin type. Absolute Genius. If you live with other people, don't buy it - you might just live in the bathroom because it smells so good.

So much for that. No, I have not been paid by Body Shop to advertise, although I would like it very much. *sigh*

So...my last exam is in 9 days and I just can't wait. I'm leaving for home in about 8 days after that though...oh wait...that's what I'm happy about.

I realized, after a night of doing nothing, staring into space, pretending to be studying, that... Oh...you guys HAVE to check out http://xkcd.com/ ...sheer brilliance. However, you have been warned...it's very addictive.

Anyway, I think I should sit with my books now before they feel left out and disintegrate out of self-pity. Attention-seeking printed pages.

Ta!

Deep Waters

2009-03-15T21:18:00.003+05:30

It's that sinking feeling again.
Only this time, it's real.
Like standing in cool, deep waters
watching the sun light up the horizon,
and then being tossed around
by the same waters,
now furious, angry,
maddened by the wind's
mocking caresses.
Anger, fury, so much pain.

That sinking feeling.
When you have nothing left
to fight for.
Nothing to look forward to.
No reason to wake up,
except that the sooner you wake up,
the sooner the days go by,
the sooner you can leave
and leave all of it behind.

Your rescue boat capsizes
before it can reach you,
and you watch,
watch in horror
as your last silver lining
in the darkest cloud
snaps,
echoing the ache
somewhere deep inside.

And then your eyes fill up,
but you won't let yourself cry.
You look around you helplessly
as the choppy waters
threaten to tear you apart,
limb from limb.
Thunder and lighting roll in
and sets the stage
for the sad end
to what was just beginning to be
a happy life.

It's that sinking feeling.
You lost.
There's nothing you can do now.
Bear the pain.
Fight for yourself
because nobody else gives a damn.
Fight for yourself
because you're human,
and because you're foolish enough
to think
things will be alright again.

Hope.
Every fool's last resort.

Love.
Every pathetic soul's
reason to live.

Fight.
Stay afloat.
Curl yourself up
into a ball,
keep all of you
together.
Or it'll tear you apart.
They'll tear you apart.
He'll tear you apart.
Close your eyes
and concentrate.
On staying alive.

Nonsense, I say!

2009-03-12T21:07:00.002+05:30

So here's the thing. This guy I know, or rather, used to know, told me recently that he really liked me a couple of years ago. Funny thing? I really liked him too. And neither of us said anything. For whatever reasons. I mean, it could have gone somewhere, it could have fallen flat, but why didn't anyone say anything?!

See, children, the only things you regret in life are the risks you didn't take. I really liked him...! He played an instrument, sang awesomely, was funny, had an awesome smile, great sense of humour, etc etc. I didn't say anything because I thought he didn't like me, he didn't say anything because he thought I hated him. And now, a couple of years down the line, we're saying, "damn it..."

Moral of the story...just let the other person know when you like them!!! Gah...

---

Auto Incident Number Whatever :

This morning, I'm desperately looking for an autorickshaw (remember, those yellow-and-black-three-wheeled-contraptions?) to take me to The Place Where I Study, the name of which is Christ College. (It's been changed to University now, but I don't really give a damn) Conversation between me and auto driver -

Me : Christ College.
Auto guy : Race course?
o.O
Me : CHRIST COLLEGE.
Auto guy : Race course aa?
Me : College! Christ College!
Auto guy : Ah! Christ College aa? 70 rupees.

It costs 26 rupees to get to college from my place, by the way. I stalked off.

---

I'm tripping on Dirty Dancing [the movie(s), geniuses] at the moment. There's something about dance that just takes me to another place. I love it.

Present favourite song - "Cry to me" by Solomon Burke. Johnny Castle and Baby (in Dirty Dancing I) - absolute hotness-ish-ness, if you get what I mean.

Oh crap. I have to submit my finalest research paper tomorrow. Later, then!

Ta!

Fare Thee Well...

2009-03-11T20:37:00.002+05:30

Today was our farewell party. As in, the second years organized this party (and the first years paid for it) where some of them sang, made some of us speak, gave away "awards" and so on. The best award was the 100% Attendance Award, won by the empty red plastic chair that represented B, bless him.

So it was fun. Our class, being our class, unenthusiastically participated in the first game, except for the few "enthu cutlets" (thanks be to El for the term) that loved the idea of winning a brightly coloured plastic comb, which was the "prize" for winning these...um...games. I doubt there's anything our class would enjoy. And I mean that. It's a sad thing, but it comes from being in The Place I Study for too long.

No one cried, which was a little disappointing. I was secretly hoping for some embarrassing pictures of teary faces and sudden displays of love and affection that we could put up on popular social networking sites and tag everyone, etc. But yeah, looks like we don't really love each other or the Place We Study In very much. Not that it makes the slightest difference to me, mind. I'll keep in touch with whoever keeps in touch with me.

My day went something like this - class, class, class, valedictory-function-where-I-got-three-certificates-a-medal-and-a-trophy-that-is-now-broken, class, free hour, posing-for-pictures, posing-for-pictures, taking-pictures, taking-pictures, posing-for-pictures, posing-for-pictures, attending farewell and walking back home with Sweet Boi.

No, he doesn't walk around with candy, he's just a really sweet boy whose sensitive side rivals mine. No, he's not gay. Just very sensitive. We had a long talk as we walked the 4 kilometers back to The Place Where I Live. Very interesting, very enlightening, etc.

And tomorrow is the FINAL research paper submission. Which is a relief, because I was kinda getting sick of saying "research paper in progress! DO NOT DISTURB" on my GTalk status message.

Now it will read "AAAH!!! Psychology Practical Record to be written!!! DO NOT DISTURB!!!"

Ah, college life. I'll miss living on the edge, but something tells me I will also be eternally thankful when my classes end in three days.

Till later, ta!

Chennai Choirings

2009-03-10T18:33:00.002+05:30

And I'm back from Chennai. Well, I got back on Sunday night, but that's besides the point. It was a fun trip. A filthy train saw us through the 6-odd hour journey (no, really, there were entire families of cockroaches on the train), got off at Chennai Central railway station where our clothes stuck to us because of the heat and humidity (at 10:30 in the night), sat in a 50-seater bus with velvet seat covers, ate at a ridiculously expensive restaurant, had our blood transfused by about a million mosquitoes, then finally got to our guest house and baked in the heat helplessly as the air conditioning made up it's mind whether or not to come on and the water refused to come out of the taps. And this was just day 1. Like I said, it was a fun trip. Especially when the girl in the bathroom freaked out, shampoo in hair and soap in eyes, when the water stopped. And when some * censored words * stole my phone from me.

So anyway, apart from the merciless humidity and the heat, and the phone thief and the stuffy auditorium, the trip was fun.

Ok, so that was a contradiction. But just stick with me, okay? (in a non-humidity way, thank you very much) I have some good things to say too.

Let's start with the train journey. The train was filthy, but no one really cared, because we were all too excited to be getting out of the city and going on an "outstation" trip to sing, etc. We did mind the cockroaches though, filthy little good-for-nothing creatures. I mean, really, they serve no purpose. I'll bet they evolved out of man's need for a filthy creature that will help him appear chivalrous and macho and all. Women love a man who can pick up a cockroach and throw it away (in my case, kill it), after all.

Anyway, so the train was filthy. Doggie Boi, Sammy and Santoor made up for it by keeping us entertained and laughing for about 3 hours. There were about 60 of us, sitting in one compartment, singing (mainly Malayalam songs, because they're the funnest to sing and parody) and laughing and (in Sammy's and Santoor's case) making loud cheap comments and scandalizing fellow passengers. By the time we got down at Chennai Central, our skin was sticky and I, being the Drama Queen that I am, could barely breathe because the air was so thick, and we were generally soaking in sweat.

Then we carried all our luggage and walked around for a bit and then walked out of the station where it was marginally cooler. And then we walked into the car park area, got honked at for sauntering across the road, walked around aimlessly in exhaust fumes and then finally found the bus with velvet seat covers. The bus journey was terribly uncomfortable. There were signals every few hundred meters. We stopped at a restaurant that had air conditioning (yay) and ate the ridiculously priced food (I mean, 35 bucks for a dosai?).

Then we went to the guest house. Which I described earlier. There were 5 mattresses in the hall, on which 9 or 10 girls slept. Fun.

Well, that's pretty much how the trip went. Now the good part. We were to sing at the St. Bede's higher secondary school auditorium. Which faces the sea. Which was heaven. We just stood there, outside the auditorium, facing the sea and being quiet for the first time on the trip. It was breath-taking, simply gorgeous. The waves lapping at the (dirty) sands, white tips dissolving into the water...it was hypnotic.

Anyway, so we sang for an audience of about 40 people, but a very enthusiastic audience - they were on their feet, clapping and singing along, encouraging us all the way...it was great singing for them. The next day we sang at Emmanual Methodist Church...where former Obnoxious Boi, now Bass Boi, brought tears to our eyes with his gorgeous voice (and the badly tuned guitar). I was stunned by his voice...it's just..brilliant. That was my dose of beauty for that day.

And then my phone was stolen. I don't know where or when I lost it, who took it, etc., but it's gone. I actually cried. I was so depressed...but yeah. So this is the official announcement - I have lost my phone and blocked my sim. It is not my intention to not keep in touch with you, I just can't.

Well, saturday is the last day of my college life (14th March, the day I've been waiting for), but I'm bogged down with work as usual. Anyway, so I will go now and continue this later.

Ta!

Ever wonder...?

2009-03-02T20:52:00.000+05:30

Ever wonder how you can never forget some people?
Some faces?
Some voices?
Ever wondered why?

Ever wonder how you can
feel the same way
for someone through
years, never wavering?

Ever wonder why people
grow apart
for no good reason?

Ever wonder why no one
wants to take a chance,
no one wants
to take the risk,
and would rather regret it
for the rest of their lives?

Ever wonder why sometimes
you take your GTalk "off record"
when chatting with certain people,
even though there is
no apparent reason to do so?

Ever wonder what would have happened
if things had worked out, lasted for eternity?

Ever wonder
why it never worked out?

Ever wonder
why it hurts so much
to be away from that one person,
even if it's just for a few hours?

Ever wonder...?

Stupider men, et al.

2009-03-01T15:03:00.000+05:30

Yes, I know "stupider" is not a word. But it will be from now on, because I said so.

Rant time.

Exhibit A:

Setting : Check out counter at bookstore. Me standing in line, trying not to tell the stupid guy at the counter to notice that the enter key was right where his finger was at that point of time, so he could stop squinting confusedly at the keyboard as if waiting for instructions. I'm dressed decently enough, in a pair of loose jeans and a long t-shirt courtesy B. (Yes, the white Google one)
Stupid man A comes up to where I am standing.

Stupid Man A : You are a girl. You should always be with a man. You cannot protect yourself. What if someone tries to do something to you?
Me : I think I can handle my safety, thank you.
Stupid Man A : No. Girls are weak. We are stronger. We can do anything.
Me : (glaring at him, now very pissed) If that's what you think, you must be pretty stupid.
Stupid Man A : (looking genuinely shocked) Didn't your parents teach you how to talk to men?
Me : They did. That's exactly what I am doing.

By now the Look-Ra-I-Am-SO-Hot-Machcha guy standing in the next line was starting to inflate a little. He leaned over and asked me, very politely,

"Maedaam, there is problem?"

I said no, because it was my turn at the check out counter. I paid my bill and walked off, pausing only to throw a dirty look at Stupid Man A and LRIASHM guy.

Chauvinist pig.

---

Exhibit B :

Setting : Pavement opposite college. I am waiting for an autorickshaw (yes, those three-wheeled yellow-and-black contraptions) to take me to where I live. A group of men (boys by intellectual standards) are standing behind me, outside their office building, smoking because someone told them it makes them look cool. Conversation that I was not supposed to overhear but did because someone also told them that talking loudly looks cool :

"Dude...that Ram Sena is screwed up man. How can they say that women should not drink and all ra?"
At this point, I'm feeling all 'yay'. Anyhow...
"Yeah man...how else can you get a girl to come home?"
*laughter*
"And what are we going to look at if they all start wearing proper clothes man?"
"No ra..they should all wear sarees. *ucking hot it will be ra"
*more laughter*
"Machcha...it should be like old movies ra...where the girl wears saree without blouse!"
*hysterical laughter this time*

No, really!

Speaking of stupidity, who does Muthalik think he is? In a twisted way, the boys I overheard talking are right... If Ram Sena thinks women should follow the traditional Hindu style of dressing, we'd all be walking around half-naked...I bet that's what they want, the pervs. Someone needs to give them a lesson in Hinduism. And for that idiot who suggested that Indian women should follow the Hindu way and wear 'salwar-khameez'es, I have news for you...the 'salwar-khameez came from the muslim culture. What the heck are you talking about?

---

Exhibit C :

Lecturer in charge, during a field trip. In conversation with Miyuki.

Lecturer : Where is your id card?
Miyuki: Sir, I lost it last night.
Lecturer : Why?
Miyuki : Sir it was stolen...
Lecturer : See, the question is not whether you lost it or not. When we ask you to bring the id card, you have to bring it.
Miyuki : o.O???

I rest my case.

---

So I figured I have no sense of direction. At all. I've started driving classes, see, because I cannot, for the life of me, understand the concept of gears. Apart from nearly running over three dogs and a couple of stupid men who insist on walking on the road instead of the FOOTpath, (I mean, how much more obvious can it get? It's called a bleeding "FOOTpath"!! And don't get me started on the "Look-Ra-Machcha-I-Am-So-Hot-I-Can-Drive-On-The-Footpath" bike-and-scooter people. Yes, people. Women do it too. Very irritating.) it's been going pretty well. I apparently have excellent steering control and very good control of the accelerator and brake. But something has to go wrong somewhere, yes?

Sample conversation : (please follow pronunciation carefully for best effects)

"Ok, Maedaam, put right turen indicaeter...very good. Now turen for right turen"

*I'm turning*

"Maedaam, right turen, maedaam! Right turen!!!"

*I look at him blankly. I am turning right, right??*

*panicky squeak from my instructor, Syed, as a school bus misses the car by a few milimeters*

"Maedaam, turen for right turen, maedaam!!!"

*he grabs the steering wheel and turns it in the opposite direction. The expression on his face is kinda funny at this point*

"wokay, maedaam. Vi vill stop now. You can go home."

I think I gave the man a minor heart attack. He looks at me apprehensively and shifts to the passenger seat rather reluctantly every morning since then.

---

For some reason, I keep driving on the right side of the road. Not right as opposed to wrong, but right as opposed to left. For my international friends who drive based on the US system, in India, we drive on the left side of the road.

Anyway, so I took a right turn, yeah, (much to the instructor's obvious relief; he shut his eyes for a little bit because the road ahead was straight and I could handle that well) and I was going down the road, when I see this ugly metal box on wheels (a Tata Sumo) hurtling at break-neck speed towards me, honking frantically. A panicked squeak (from the instructor)later, I realized that I was in the wrong. We missed the Tata Sumo by mere inches. I grinned and waved at the lady in the car behind me and turned to my instructor who looked like he honestly didn't know what to do with me.

Poor man. I think he'll age prematurely.

---

When I go back home to the UAE I think I'll have to ask The Tattooed Pillock to help me out with driving... :D ...now that promises to be fun.

---

In other news, it is FINALLY the 1st of March, which means college closes in exactly 14 days. Exams start in 20, but it's not like anybody cares anyway. After three years of politics in college when some people invariably do well and others don't, you learn to stop giving a damn about exams. SO yeah, I will be a B.A. graduate as of 31st March. Unofficially, that is. The official ceremony is on May 30th. You're all invited. :D

Ah, the joy it brings me to think of free time... It brings tears to my eyes to think that now, finally, after three years, I will have my first vacation. No internships worth 50 marks, no projects or assignments, no exams...just pure, unadulterated, free time. I can read a book! Or watch a movie! (hehe...are you reading this, Tattooed Pillock?) Or maybe even just take a walk on the beach and feel the sand under my feet! Ah, bliss.

Ok, must leave now before I get too emotional. I still have a grueling few weeks left ahead of me... Will keep you posted! Watch this space for more rants!

P.S. - I hate Medha The Advertising Cow. All those in favour say Moo!

And I'm back. (Again)

2009-02-22T17:14:00.003+05:30

I'm here only because writing psychology practical record for over 3 hours at a stretch gets on my nerves.

Also because I love the people (person?) who read(s) my blog and want(s) me to update.

I've been busy, see. We have 14 days of class left, half the portions left to finish, not that anything done in class ever matters, numerous tests, assignments, projects, etc. Oh, all that and the psychology practical records. Two of them. And advertising practical record. Which nobody sees the point of, but hey...if it gets me the marks, I'll write the bleeding thing.

So I saw He's Just Not That Into You twice this week. I went the first time with Megs, liked it so much that I dragged B out to watch it with me. Who enjoyed himself, despite me doing the whole "ooh! Ooh! Watch this part!" and the "ha! see? you guys suck!" thing. He put up with it, bless him.

So the movie has inspired me to write about relationships - so much that I think I'll so my culture studies research paper on relationship dynamics or something. Or, this is just another phase and will pass in about another 5 minutes.

Speaking of relationship dynamics...I find this whole dating/not-dating/in-a-relationship confusion very amusing. Sample conversation :

"So we went for dinner and had a good time."

"Oooh...you have a boyfriend!"

"Er...no...I don't. We just went on a date. Doesn't mean we're in a relationship"

"You have a boyfriend!"

"No...I'm not in a relationship. I'm just...dating!"

"Yeah, you have a boyfriend"

...and so on. Very amusing, this. I mean, what's the confusion? You go on a date. A coffee, maybe even dinner. Or a movie. That's when you spend some time with the person and see if he/she is worth getting into a relationship with. A relationship usually follows the dating, when you decide to take things to the next level and say, "Ok, I think I really like this man/woman and want to take things seriously-ish for a while and see where it goes, etc."

Make sense?

In India this whole concept of dating is...warped. You go on one date and suddenly you're in a relationship. You go on dates with other people and you're a player. I mean...hold on...if I go out for coffee with a guy and things don't work out, I'd like to go out for coffee with another guy - maybe I'll get along better with him! I am, therefore, not in a relationship with the first guy, nor am I cheating on him by going out for coffee with the second guy! What is so hard to understand there?

When I do finally start "dating", I'll let you know how it goes. However, the point is that dating and being in a relationship are two very, very different things.

So much for the rant.

And now I will go, because they haven't invented a gadget to write my psychology record for me yet. Hear that, Inventors' Guild Pvt. Ltd.? We'd like one of those. Something that writes our practical records for us.

Necessity isn't the mother of invention. Lassitude is. (Rephrased from T.G. Shenoy's lecture)

Oh and Tuesday, 24th February, is 'Sound Curry', which is an event held by Christ University Choir every year, featuring some of the funnest songs and best voices on campus. It will be held at Christ University's main auditorium and will start at 4:15 p.m. or 1615 hours. Whichever makes you want to come and watch.

Be there. It's gonna be loads of fun, I promise.

And now I will go. No, seriously.

Love. Loss. Pain. Love.

2009-01-30T19:53:00.003+05:30

This is something I wrote two years ago, on December 11th. I think I've hidden it long enough.

--

It's everywhere. Like a dark, suffocating blanket that snuffs out anything warm, it seeks you out, and there's nowhere to run to.

Fear of animals. Fear of insects. Fear of loss. Fear of pain. Fear of death. Fear of love.

Fear of love. Fear of loss. Fear of pain.

Love.

Loss.

Pain.

There's a gap that loss leaves that no one, nothing, can fill. That's what I thought, that's what they all told me. You fill that emptiness. You did what no one else could in the last 3 years. You made me feel again. How do I react to that?

It's suffocating me. Get it off me. It's dark. You're reaching out, you want to hold me, comfort me. Or do you?

Do you just want to hold me for this moment? Do you want to comfort me now? Will you forget later, when this moment passes? Will you leave?

I can't. I want that warmth. I want to be held, want you to hold me. I can't.

I'm sorry. If you're hurt, know that I feel it too. If you're not, I'm making the right choice, denying myself the only thing I've wanted all this while. I know I'm being stupid. Yet somehow...somehow, this all makes sense to me now. Don't hate me. I love you. I'm scared. I want nothing more than to be in your arms now. In the darkness. I want to forget.

I can't be with him. I can never love him.

--

No, I'm not feeling extremely emotional. I just found it. Jeez...

Another day, another year.

2009-01-01T03:57:00.004+05:30

So apart from the very embarrassing fog-related incident, new year was as boring as every other year. We went to the relative's house (where we go every weekend), put out the lights at 23:57 (they're a little iffy about that), rolled our eyes while the others giggled (yes, GIGGLED) in anticipation, and when the clock struck 12 (at their house, on my watch it was 12 past 12 by then), we lit candles, repeated lines of a badly written prayer, and then everybody hugged and kissed everybody else. A tad annoying, but then again, it's some kind of a ritual here.

And now to the embarrassing fog-related incident. See, there's this fog here. It's incredibly thick, so if you go out there you can't even see your own hands. So I stepped out of the building (of apartment of aforementioned relatives) and...um...forgot that there was a step, so I missed it, fell, and did this very cool flying stunt-type thing into the windshield of a car parked outside. Which promptly set off its alarm...with flashing lights and everything - the works. Let me just put it this way...police reaction time is scary. I barely had time to scramble off the (wet) hood and flash a sheepish smile at assorted family members peering at me through the flashes of orange and red.

This will not be spoken of again, mind.

And now I will go to bed. It's been a long day/night/day.

Oh, and Happy New Year, etc.

Red lights and cars

2008-12-30T16:01:00.002+05:30

She stood on the other side of the white markings on the smooth black surface, shoulders held back, chin up, looking the world in the eye.

They should have been lively and filled with laughter, those beautiful green eyes.

And yet, they stared deep into unseen space, struggling against the burdens of her heart. She stood there for an eternity, passing cars caught a glimpse of pain and suffering.

A gust of cold wind picked up the loose end of her scarf and pulled it off her head, ever so gently.

A long strand of deep brown hair fell reached her shoulder the same time a tear did.

And she bowed her head, looking at the ground, afraid that someone would see what lay behind the mask.

A flip of the hand and the scarf was back on, the mask back in place, the emptiness in those eyes.

Lights changed and she walked, tall and proud, looking the world in the eye, beautiful.

Growing up, or Another Holiday Rant.

2008-12-28T00:23:00.004+05:30

It's the hardest thing to do. Growing up, learning to let go. Learning to stop being insecure, learning to stop being immature. Learning to let go of the person you love, maybe because he/she doesn't need you anymore, maybe because that's the only way to move on. It's hard and it hurts, but we have to all face it at some point.

Alright. So much for the dramatic entrance. I just realized that the best part about being home is being able to take hot water baths. With honest-to-goodness hot water. And a bath tub. With bubble bath and essential oils. The second best part about being home is not having to wash and clean the bathroom before using it. I nearly cried today out of the sheer joy. The folks are now keeping an eye on me and are popping in every few minutes to "make sure" I'm "alright". So much for that.

So yes, the crying. Apparently I've become even more sentimental of late. Which sucks. Homegurl, one of my bester friends, thinks it's because I'm ("finally") getting in touch with my feminine side. I beg to differ. I've always been in touch with my feminine side. People somehow think I'm cold and emotionless. If you do think so, talk to Ergoplum, who probably thinks I'm a little leech-like. I believe he used to word "nag". Which I am highly offended by. Not that it affects anything. I still nag, with increased joy.

Right. Moving on...

I mentioned in a previous long-time-ago post that one of the simpler joys in life can be obtained by sticking one's hands out of the window, into the sunlight. While the benefits of this are deliciously "mmmm"-inducing, I must put down here a word of caution. Watch out for pigeons on the floor above you. They like to poop.

While I have been staying off my feet, I have had an alarmingly long time to think about things. Life, etc. I came to a large number of conclusions, one of them being that life really is meaningless, just another experience before death and whatever lies beyond death. I don't remember most of those (other) conclusions, but a few can be shared. You know, for the greater good, etc.

1. I use "etc." way to often.
2. Life is a bitch and always will be.
3. It sucks to feel unwanted.
4. Love sucks.
5. Sunshine is yummy on a cold winter's morning.
6. Sea water is FREEZING even at 12 noon in winter.
7. Shopping is a bitch.
8. Gift wrapping is not fun. At all.
9. Hot chocolate is a girl's best friend, best served with tears and marshmallows.
10. Love sucks.

In happier news, my ankle is much better. (Thank you for asking, Ergoplum. :) )

For someone at home on vacations I sure have a lot of good news to share.

Anyhow. I should go. It's my duty to be the resident skeptic and sarcastic non-believer who slams doors in people's faces when they come to carol at the doorstep. Just another service I offer.

On a closing note, I highly recommend Cadbury's Drinking Chocolate for people like me who're sick of a lot of things in life. Put three heaped teaspoons into a cup of hot milk, add marshmallow bits, and curl up with it while sitting at your window sill, hurting over missing/loving him/her, not wanting to say it because you know what the reaction will be and you'd rather just create a fantasy. (For best effects, do this when it's raining outside and your neighbour is cuddling with their loved one. If you're not masochistic, just drink up, curl up under the covers, and cry yourself to sleep. That works pretty well, too.)

Ah, Christmas. Joyous holiday season.

Christmas again.

2008-12-23T14:04:00.002+05:30

Ok, so it's not exactly the most happening time of the year. Apart from the amazing-ish decorations in malls here in the UAE.

So I'm home. The highlight of the return was the look on mother dearest's face when I walked in through the door. To say she wasn't expecting me would be a little bit of an understatement. No, she didn't have a heart attack or anything. But yeah...whatever. So the real highlight of the return was that a few hours after I got home I climbed a chair which Ninz, my sister, "forgot" to tell me was broken, and sprained my ankle.

Which brings me to my point - Christmas is the most boring vacation ever. It's cold and all you want to do is snuggle up under the comforter with a mug of hot cocoa and watch it rain. And now, thanks to my ankle, I can't really run around town and have fun, etc.

As I sit here at the table in my PJs, contemplating the boredom of Christmas, I miss Ergoplum, Miyuki and Megs...my sisters (yes, BOTH of them), insist on making life miserable by going out with friends, going for music class, etc.

Note to Self : STOP USING ETC. SO MUCH!!

Right. I'm spending time watching (Japanese) anime, which Miyuki filled my hard drive with. Also considering doing my Culture Studies thesis on something anime-related. Let's see.

More later, I think.

Ta!

And the countdown begins

2008-12-15T21:26:00.002+05:30

4 days to go.

4 days for the most important exam I will have ever written till date - the GRE. 4 days till the exam upon which my future education depends.

This is scary and I'm freaking myself out.

Ergoplum, if you're reading this, CALL ME AND CALM ME DOWN!!!

That's all, folks.

All I ever wanted...

2008-12-14T21:51:00.003+05:30

All I ever wanted was for you to smile.

All I ever wanted was for all those dreams
to come true.

All I ever wanted was for you to tell me
that I meant something to you.

All I ever wanted was for us to be happy
together.

With each other, the way it used to be
before you changed,
before the abuse.
First the fighting,
the yelling,
the constant nightmares...
And then you drank.
The alcohol on your breath
clung to me,
clung to my clothes,
my hair,
my every waking moment;
my every sleeping second.
I took the pain
of your fists on my body.
I looked away in shame
when you ripped my clothes off,
closed my eyes and ears
to all the times you forced
yourself on me.
I cried silent tears
when you slept on our bed,
cowering in the marble corner,
praying to all the gods I knew
that you would stay sleeping a little longer.
And in the morning
when you woke
and reached for me,
apologizing, promising,
I believed you,
kissed your bruised fists,
trusting you,
trusting us.

I was such a fool...
such a fool...
It took me so long
to see
you couldn't love.
Not me, not anyone.
The knife fit so perfectly
in your back,
your eyes shocked,
pained,
the same pain
I felt
for so many years.
Gazing at me,
glazed,
sleeping forever.
And I cowered in the corner,
praying to all the gods I knew
that you'd stay sleeping just a little longer.
Why won't you wake up?
Won't you reach for me this morning?
Promise me it'll never happen again?
Wake up...
You're so cold...
should I get you the blanket?
It's a Friday morning.
I'll go get your tea and toast.

You're dead?
I killed you?
Self defense?
But...
But all I ever wanted
was for you to love me...

If

2008-12-12T15:43:00.002+05:30

If I walked out that door
would you stop me?
Pull me into your arms
look me in the eye
and tell me you love me?
Would you put your pride
your ego
aside -
and tell me you love me?
If I walked away,
would you stop me?
Wipe the tears from my face
and tell me you love me?
If I told you
I was leaving
would you ask me to stay?

//This was found on a torn piece of paper this morning when I was frantically searching for a very important item of clothing. *ahem* If and when I find the rest of it, will put it up. It was written a couple of years ago, when I had just finished school, going by the paper it was written on. Colombo Airport, this one's for you.//

Of Cancerians and more Cancerians

2008-12-11T22:57:00.002+05:30

So it turned out to be an interesting evening after all. Meg dragged me and Soumz out to meet her boyfriend and his friend. The incentive? "You HAVE to meet this guy! He's a CANCERIAN!!!"

Alright, so Meg and I are cancerians. And we like the intelligent, sensitive kinda men. Anyhow, she had me interested, so I went. And had a good time.

Ok, so you want to know about the guy. Lets call him...um...T-Boi...until I know enough about his personality to name him more appropriately. He's cute. Not in the "aww-look-it's-a-teddy-bear" kinda cute, but in a "hmm..." kinda cute. Ok, so that didn't make sense. But yeah...point being he's cute.

And he's intelligent. One of the first guys I didn't have to explain sarcasm to. Which is also saying something. People who know me and the kinda guys I've met will know what I'm talking about. So yeah. But that's about it...for now, at least. I don't think he's interested in me or anything...although Meg and her ManFriend (reference : Sex and The City) swear they saw/felt sparks fly. I think I was too dazed by the loud music to notice.

So Meg and Soumz, the ManFriend and T-Boi, all drank. Me, being the 'I-Just-Don't-Drink-Alcohol!' person, watched the variations in moods after the first two rounds. (First few sips in Meg's case)

And I had fun.

Ok. Stop. I'm rambling. *deep breath*

Alright. Enough boy talk. And no, I'm not falling for T-Boi. He's smart and he's cute. Not falling for him. Things like that take time.

Now, the more pressing matters. GRE. :( I'm studying, studying real hard, but it just seems like such a hopelessly daunting task... :( ...You get my drift.

In other matters of concern, I need to get my jeans altered. They're loose, they're long, and I better do something about them, because they're my favouritest clothing. So if you know any place that alters jeans in Koramangala, Bangalore city, let me know.

Well, that's all for now. I'm going to get back to my books now.

Don't give me that look! I'm not turning into a hermit!! I went out today, see??!

Magnificat!!

2008-12-07T22:19:00.003+05:30

Another year, another stunning, powerful performance by the Choir, of which I am a very proud member.

It was stunning. Yesterday and today we hosted our annual music festival, Magnificat, featuring various choirs, kick starting the Christmas run for all/most choirs here in the city. Here's how it works. Starting the first week of December, almost every college, church and other organizations begin their Christmas celebrations, usually by inviting choirs in the city to sing at the events, or by organizing competitions among choirs in the city. Our festival yesterday and today marked the beginning of the Christmas run here in the city. Such an awesome feeling. Can't be explained.

(Side note: Miyuki and Bub got into an accident and I want to kill him. But let's not go there. Yet.)

K-boi turned up for today's show, surprisingly, after giving me grief about not being able to come, etc etc. I could have kissed him. El Roms also came, the darling. And he waited with me till I got some means to get back to my place. My love for him increased a little today.

Ergoplum didn't show. Which sucked. Which is an understatement, by the way.

So it's been a great two days, full of music and tiring running around and last-minute hassles. But yes, it was worth it all. I'm exhausted now, but in this very good, happy, peaceful way. It's the high you get after singing and giving a great performance. Try it sometime.

However, since the sadists that masquerade as lecturers still exist, I now have two experiments to write in my practical record book for Psychology, a long assignment to HAND-WRITE, and an agency brief and creative strategy to prepare for tomorrow. It is now 10:40 in the night, by the way. Don't ask why I didn't do all of it earlier. Simply because earlier I was doing other assignments whose due dates were before. And yesterday and today was our performance, so working in the middle of all that is just...impossible.

So yes, I suppose I must get around to doing what I have to.

Ta, people! Let the festivities begin. :)

On this side of the window

2008-11-27T22:47:00.002+05:30

While you stand there
in your uniform,
telling my family
that everything's under control,
I stand here in my hotel room,
fire blazing around me,
gunshots outside my door
closing in.
While your cameras
zoom in on the fires
and faces of the terrorists,
while you interview
the uniforms,
I'm saying my final prayers
and wishing for a chance
to tell my family
how much I love them.
While you sit
on your comfortable couches
with your family
in the living room,
I scream in desperation
in the hopelessness
of a simple business meeting
gone wrong.
Religion, politics,
caste, creed, race -
for what?
I stand facing death,
there are terrorists
outside my hotel room,
killing indiscriminately.
They don't care about
my religion, my caste,
my race,or which party I vote for.
They kill.
And while they kill,
the people that run my country
hide in their air-conditioned homes
and the opposition
laugh at their plight
and start plotting their
own rise to power.
Does it matter?
You incompetent fools,
the country that you promised to honor
in being torn apart
by grenades, gunshots,
bombs,
a deep wound,
bleeding too fast.
And all you can think about
is who gets the next title?
People who have done no wrong
except to be born and raised
and to be living in this city
at this time
are being shot dead
for reasons
they cannot even begin to fathom.
A 125 lives, snuffed out,
like candles in the wind,
just like that.
And all you can think about
is where you'll host
your next party?

I hear the screams in the next room
the lady, begging,
pleading,
crying,
sobbing.
A gun shot.
Another.
Another.
The eerie silence
forcing me to hide under
my four-poster bed.
The door of my room opens
and I see a pair of black boots
step in.
He crouches low
and looks me in the eye.
I cannot shout.
I cannot scream.
Will you hear me
if I do,
in between your false reassurances
to my family watching TV now,
in between your focus
on which entrance they used,
in between your toasting
the downfall of the opposing party?
Can you hear me?
The black boots is young.
A little boy,
no older than my own.
His eyes, cold, merciless.
He raises the gun,
aiming carelessly at my face.
As the final tear rolls off my face,
the sound of the fatal shot
rings out.
A brief searing pain...

OK!!! Stop it already!!!

2008-11-27T20:39:00.004+05:30

Yes, I KNOW it's been a month!!! And no, I'm not dead.

Or dying. (thank you, Annie, for the concern. And the threats. Very touching.)

So yeah, I've been in one of my hibernating phases, i.e., being too lazy to write. Following a series of rather unfortunate events over the past few weeks, involving a blade, mildly annoying personality traits of my two best friends, selfishness (on my part), a very pissed off Ergoplum, and copious amounts of assignments and/or projects, I did write yesterday. That rant was deleted, following a tearful night.

I thought I love the drama. It gets tiring after a while, though. Now it's annoying. As are a lot of other things.

So. I'm back. No, no vengeance this time. But hey...give it a week at the most. I will soon express that old irrepressible desire to kill/murder/maim. Studying where I study does that to some people who don't have what it takes to put up with the trash dished out to us here on a disturbingly regular basis. In all honesty, I can't wait for April, which brings The Final Exam. Following which, I'm DONE. Ah...the joy.

Everybody's attention is kinda drawn to the terrorist attacks in Mumbai... After frantically searching for my best(est) friend's number (she lives there), I realized that I didn't have it, shame on me. {Which reminds me...I have a new phone!! It is SO hot. :D}
Anyway...so I don't have my best(est) friend's phone number, shame on me. I am assuming that she's ok though, considering I haven't received any phone calls from Terror Central. Ok, so I'm freaking out. But there's nothing I can do about it.

The weather is helping though. All this rain here, the temperature is at about 19 degrees (yes, Celsius)...perfect weather for cuddling. If couples would just make time for cold/rainy-weather cuddling, marriage counselors would be out on the streets. Couples, don't try this at home. I intend on being a psychologist sometime in the near future. What's that? No, silly! I'm not doing any cuddling! For all you single folks out there and/or LDRs, I find that curling up in the balcony under a blanket with a cup of hot cocoa and a good book equally therapeutic. I am currently re-reading the Bartimaeus trilogy by Johnathan Stroud. To those familiar with the books, if Bartimaeus were a man, I'd marry him and be jealously possessive. *sigh* They don't make 'em like that. At all.

So apart from my imaginary love affair with a fictional djinn, life is pretty hectic. The place where I study insists on methods of slow intellectual torture through pointless lectures and lecturers that seldom make sense, pointless assignments on impossible deadlines, etc etc.

Oh, and for those familiar with my GRE trouble, I postpone the date to December. Oh, and I'm not studying.

Speaking of not studying, people are under the delusion that I'm nerd-girl. When I told HaHa the other day that I hadn't even started the assignment due for submission that day, she almost fainted. I don't get it. I barely make the deadlines! Ever!

Stop laughing!!! I'm not a nerd!!!

Well, I better go. I think I can feel the GRE manual (courtesy Princeton Review) glaring at me. Either my imagination is getting wilder, or I have some delusional disorder. Oh...wait. The both mean the same. Ok, then. Delusional disorder it is. *sigh*

Later, children!

Home and the Blood Test

2008-10-26T19:08:00.002+05:30

Ok, so I hate blood tests. I can't stand the idea of a thin, hollow metallic thing sticking into my exposed and vulnerable vein and drawing out the liquid that circulates in my body for what my biology teacher in school said was a very good reason. I hate needles. They're...thin metallic hollow things that...ok...you get the point.
This isn't even one of those blood-and-injury type specific phobias. I don't mind blood, I don't mind pain. It's just when a needle is attached to these concepts that I kinda lose it a little. Although, I must very proudly mention, I did not cry. Or throw a tantrum like I did a couple of years ago when I had to get a blood test and my parents, a doctor and a few nurses had to use physical force to draw blood out of me. It was accompanied by shattering cries and wails and pleading and copious amounts of tears. This time I just squeezed mother dearest's hand and looked the other way saying "ow ow ow" even before the guy took the syringe out of its sealed-for-safety packet.

On a more pleasant note, I'm home. I am sleeping in my own bed, eating honest-to-goodness real food (if you live in a hostel or have spent an unnecessary amount of your life in a hostel, you will appreciate this), and I'm with the family. It's fun. M, my 15 year old sister is the shameless commentator who has a view and opinion on everything, pretty much like an a*****e. Then there's N, the 11 year old, who is...well...on her way to becoming one of those high-school cheerleader girls, the snobs you hated. Fun. The mother is the funniest of the lot. Sarcastic comments in the mother-tongue language are just plain hilarious, especially when the said comments are meant as abuses to one of the members of the dysfunctional family. The father is just plain nuts and likes to irritate the mother in order to hear some of the sarcasm.

Fun it is.

On more depressing counts, I miss Ergoplum and Miyuki terribly. Especially when I'm eating all this yummy food. I will, of course, rub it in their faces soon.

And now, we're going to the mall. Yay. Yes, that was sarcasm. Walking around aimlessly in an air-conditioned expensive building with over-priced shops is not my idea of time well-spent...but then again, I'm on vacation, and last I heard, this is what people do when they're on vacations. I would prefer a book and a cup of hot cocoa, but hey...it's not like I have much of a choice.

Mall by the beach, here I come.

Later, folks.

He Hates Me Not!

2008-10-21T15:14:00.003+05:30

No, that's not a quote from the bible or some religious/spiritual gobbledygook. It has been established, through a few text messages (containing a few monosyllables) in true Ergoplum style, that he (Ergoplum, of course) DOES NOT hate me. I can now breathe and stop hating myself...although I do still feel guilty.

Ah...*smiles*...

But of course, since one should not be allowed to ever be properly happy, there is still the question of dealing with the exam tomorrow, in a paper called Literary Theory and Criticism. Which makes no sense whatsoever. In 20-odd essays written by jobless people, nothing, absolutely NOTHING makes sense. The authors were so bored, that in a bid to sound academic and scholarly, they took a concept, wrote and rewrote it in every possible sentence, and then twisted the sentences, added some big words, changed the grammatical construction, added double negatives, and so on. People who read the resulting essays didn't understand a word, and so labeled it "literary", and then published the essays. The essays were then read, a couple of decades down the line, by lecturers in our department, who also thought the confusing language and the unusual grammatical structures looked "literary", decided that this would be the best way to torture us, because hey, Media Laws and Ethics, Industrial Psychology and the like and just too simple.

So here I am, updating my blog, with my text book (fancy name for a spiral-bound collection of photocopied essays) by my side, bored out of my wits. The problem with studying literature is, besides the obvious 15-pages-each boring essays, is that there is no "logical" sequence of events, nothing to take apart and study cause-and-effect...just read, decode, and read again, and hope to high heavens that you remember something at the end of it all. Which explains why I never do well in it.

Might as well get started on the damned thing.

Ta!

Rough patch, anyone?

2008-10-20T22:09:00.002+05:30

I'm tired.

And exhausted.

I decided to counter my depression by sleeping, because our next paper is cause for potential suicide. I fell into this restless sleep, tossed and turned the whole time and dreamt scary things. Unimaginably scary things. Then I woke up, showered, cried in the shower for no good reason, and then I was fine...I managed to talk myself into eating supper. Which is saying something, given the quality of food here. Then I came back to my room...

And picked up my text book in Literary Theory and Criticism. Which put me back into depression. Then I went over the whole day (because I like the pain of humiliating myself and telling myself repeatedly how stupid I am) in my head, over and over again, regretting things I did, hating myself for it, etc etc. You know the drill.

And now I'm updating my blog for the fourth time in two days, chatting with Leash side-by-side. Who, by the way, is being very nice. In a very distant, "Erm-I-don't-know-what-to-do-but-if-you-want-to-rant-go-ahead" kind of way. Which is good enough, really. Three cheers to Leash. Don't ask how he earned the name. It's not a long story, but I'd like to pretend it was so I wouldn't have to type it out here.

I need a break. I need a hug. Preferably sometime soon, before I lose it completely.

Stupidity. Personified.

2008-10-20T13:44:00.002+05:30

So as far as doing stupid things goes I think I may have made a new record today. Like asking for trouble when I didn't need any more than I already have right now.

I knew Ergoplum didn't want company. Knew it. Every instinct was screaming at me, telling me to not go over to his place, coz he'd be pissed...and face it...I would hate it if someone barged into my home when I was in one of my moods. But in the end the selfish side of me won and I went over anyway with Miyu. And now he hates me. Well, not 'hates' me hates me...but yeah...hates me. Which sucks. Coz things were fine till last night when I spoke to him and wouldn't stop smiling. Why can't I just let things be? I walked into his house and the first thing the sane part of my brain said was "f**k. I shouldn't be here." The insane side bounced in and woke him. He was surprisingly civil then...but the text messages that followed after we left were...well. Let's not go there.

My ego defense mechanisms are in full swing at the moment. Rationalizing the whole thing, trying to make me feel better. It's not working. No wonder Freud's considered a sham. Ego defense mechanisms don't work. They suck. Or I'm just malfunctioning. Defective piece or something.

Which reminds me of those labels you see on food products. "If you have any complaints about this products, kindly return the contents with the box to the address given." (So if I eat the thing and fall sick, what exactly do I send back with the box to the address?) If I'm a defective piece that should have been returned to the factory, someone better do that now...or just lock me up somewhere. Preferably some place with padded walls.

I CAN'T BELIEVE I WENT TO ERGOPLUM'S PLACE!!! Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Somebody please lock me up.

Finding Ergoplum...

2008-10-19T22:59:00.002+05:30

Well, a friend saw the pathetic state I was in and offered me her "other" phone till Wednesday. So I put in my SIM card, plugged it in and the first thing I did (after noticing that no one bothered to call/msg - thanks guys) was call Ergoplum.

See, I was intent on yelling at him. I wanted to yell at him for being a self-obsessed bastard and for making me go through all of it by myself. But then I heard his voice and he said he missed me. And I melted like a strawberry popsicle in the summer heat. I hate it when he does that. You know, when you're all pissed and he says something and then you can't help but smile like a schoolgirl? Annoying it is.

Tomorrow is our exam in Film and Television. Which sounds like a lot of fun, but it isn't fun when you have sheets of dates and names of people to memorize. It's a whole time line...and I hate mugging up. I hate the paper because there isn't anything to "understand", you know? Ok, you don't. And you think I'm nuts.

Speaking of nuts (not those nuts you perv!) Ergoplum thinks I need professional help. He's one to talk. I don't need professional help...I just need peace and quiet. Which brings me back to how happy I am to be graduating in a few months.

Ah, the Circle of Life. Or whatever crap they call it now.

Ta for now - I have dates to memorize... the joy and pointlessness of which fill me with immense...joy.

Ah whatever.

News Flash : The Abduction of Ergoplum

2008-10-19T13:36:00.000+05:30

This is an urgent request.

If anyone knows who abducted Ergoplum and put a look-alike self-obsessed bastard in his place, please contact me immediately. Whoever it is needs to be kicked. Hard. And I will be more than happy to do it.

Media Laws and Ethics...whatever those are.

2008-10-16T20:46:00.002+05:30

So I have an exam tomorrow. In Media Laws and Ethics. Which, as mentioned before, is a pointless boring paper that 47 of 66 people failed in. From my "smart" class. I don't see the point in studying it anyway. The text makes NO sense, and the lecturer, while being all sweet and all, has NO idea how confused SHE is.

We are all staring into space right now wondering which way to hold up the text book. Conversation with PG-mate -

Saagan (she's learning German, hence the name) - "At least it's in English!!!"
Osh (room mate) - *reads out excerpt from text* "you were saying?"
Saagan - "Damn...I love my subject right now."

And side-by-side, I'm talking to PrettyBoi again. Who's fun, actually...back in high school I was convinced he was a snob. All the girls were giggling behind hands whenever he looked their way or walked past. I found it repulsive. Not him, the giggling thing.

Which brings me to the whole girly thing again. Why? Why do they giggle? It's not even a nice short-laugh kind of giggle. It's this blushing, shying away, high-pitched, annoying kind of giggling. Which is annoying. No wonder they hated me and I hated them. They giggled. I didn't. PrettyBoi was...well...pretty. Nice-looking, tall (ok, everyone's taller than me), nice eyes. And he had this half-smile-half-smirk thing going. But no attraction then coz I thought all the attention would have made him all full of himself and all.

But he's nice. And fun to talk to. And he makes me laugh. Which is a good thing, I think.

Also spoke to Kevy today...who is recovering from the flu faster than I am. I hate being sick. Ok...I said that before. Let's not go there now.

Well...Media Laws it is. Will try to decode the text and try to study it before 9 tomorrow morning.

Boredom and Torture, here I come!

And more exams.

2008-10-15T17:34:00.002+05:30

Today was Industrial Psychology. For once, I knew everything. You hear me? EVERYTHING! And I couldn't finish the paper because it was just too long. It's one thing after another.

Have I mentioned how much I hate being sick? It's that intense hatred...well...intense hatred. Now, apart from the fever and cold, I have a sinusitis headache to deal with. And I can't sleep for some odd reason.

It should be easy...sleeping, I mean. The past couple of weeks have been so hectic I've barely got any shut eye, so this afternoon I tucked myself into my bed and snuggled into the comforter... Why wasn't I studying, you ask? Well, the next pointless exam is in Media Laws and Ethics, which no one understands anything of. We don't even know what exactly we're supposed to be learning in the paper. The name is misleading, trust me. Anyway, so I tucked myself into bed and snuggled into the comforter for a nice long sleep of about 2 hours. And I COULDN'T SLEEP!

I lay there, switching sides, tossing and turning, counting sheep, counting the patches on the wall (I had to stop...it was depressing me), day-dreaming...everything! And I just couldn't sleep. Then I started revising my Industrial Psychology portions. Because last night every time I looked into the books, I would yawn and feel this excruciating need to be distracted. I figured it'd work. It didn't. I couldn't remember 2 points out of 9 under "Non-Financial Incentives" and it drove me nuts. So I got out of bed and went and opened the book to find it. Which sort of negates the whole trying-to-sleep thing.

After severely reprimanding myself, I climbed back into bed. Yes, climbed. I live in this Paying Guest Accommodation where we have bunk beds. I sleep on top. No innuendo intended. Only dirty minds like that of BigEyes and Miyu and Ergoplum would have even caught that, but hey... I don't know how many more filthy 'cognitive processors' (copyright. My term. MINE) exist out there. Anyway, so I climbed into bed and shut my eyes tight. And tried not to think anything that would make me want to get out of bed again. Then the roommate walked in and switched on the TV...and because we live in India, every channel is invariably airing some soppy/over-dramatized mother-in-law-hating-the-daughter-in-law soaps at any given point of time. The plots for these soaps are suffocatingly similar. Family, son marries, mother hates the new addition, makes her life miserable, daughter-in-law starts emotionally blackmailing husband, they move out, someone dies and comes back 5 episodes later after having had a "plastic surgery", perfect skin and all. Throw in some skeletons in the closet - murder, affair - whatever you want...and you have the perfect plot for a soap that will have you raking in millions every year.

Basically, I couldn't sleep. At all. And then I went out to get something to eat (yes, I do that a lot)...because I had this insane craving for chocolate. The grocery store didn't have chocolate, as the flirty shopkeeper informed me with a grin that he probably thought was sexy. So I bought some chocolate biscuits (not because he was doing the weird grin, but because I wanted chocolate). I ate one and then didn't want anymore so I shared. *grumble grumble*

Sharing is fun when you don't want to throw away whatever it is that you don't want anymore. Like biscuits.

Someone else called me cute today. For the last time, people, cute is for babies and small furry things. Not for people. Definitely not for people like me! I'm NOT cute. NOT CUTE.

More later. Now I'm craving orange juice. If there are any disillusioned men you know of who at any point of time have even thought of marrying/dating me, please ensure they know NOTHING of my food cravings. I love the look on their faces when they find out too late into the relationship.

Ah, sadistic pleasures. Maybe I should be a counselor after all.

Exams, exams and more exams

2008-10-13T20:09:00.002+05:30

I screwed up my paper today. Abnormal Psychology. Which is my best paper, by the way, I'm embarrassingly good at Psychology. And I screwed it up. Halfway through the three hours I felt sick-er than I was feeling in the morning (and yesterday, and the day before)...and so I had to run out of the exam hall, navigate my way across half the bloody block to find a loo.

The exam itself...well. My batch mates and I spent more than just considerable amount of time studying these annoying disorders that are fun to know about, but a pain in all the wrong places if you have to study them and remember everything word-for-word as mentioned in the DSM-IV (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders). If you ask me, the abbreviation should be DSMMD...but hey...whatever works for lazy people who cant include two more alphabets. Anyway, so we spent way too much time studying the 7 anxiety disorders (specific phobia, social phobia, panic disorder, panic disorder with and without agoraphobia, and generalized anxiety disorder), 4 somatoform disorders and 4 dissociative disorders...and the ONLY question that was asked was SYMPTOMS OF F***ING CONVERSION DISORDER. Not even OCD!!! (Obsessive-compulsive disorder, which everyone around me is convinced I suffer from. My point is, I don't suffer from it. I actually quite enjoy it)

So we all had a screwing exam, and my misery was/is compounded by this viral fever/flu I'm down with. It just refuses to go away, the damned thing! My medicines have this nice sedative effect, which is exactly what you need during exams, because that's the time you should be sleepily gazing at pages and pages of notes, not even recognizing the language they're written in.

You need the morning dose of the medicines, just before you go in to write your paper, because the paper itself is so interesting, it's a struggle to not fall asleep. (Note: use of sarcasm)

We have this (ahem) interesting system in our college-turned-university. The question bank system. Which means all the lecturers from each department feed in a set of questions to the computer, and the computer picks out questions from all for the exam. Which means you invariably have the SAME question coming for 2 marks and 10 marks. Genius. Pure genius.

A friend asked me today "what've you been upto?" And I was a little stumped. Did she mean besides the numerous time-consuming pointless assignments and projects that are, at the end of everything, worth just 10 or 20 measly marks? Or did she mean besides the an-exam-every-month syndrome? So I have been upto actively Not Having A Life. Which is fun, because when you're 20 and in college, you should be cooped up night after night in poorly lit cramped spaces doing projects, research, and assignments like "girly scrapbooks" (for a paper in law, mind). That is exactly what life is about.

Ah, you're wondering about the girly scrapbook. See, in our class of 80, we have about 9 boys. (Lucky them, I say, being surrounded by bitchy, whiny women) So our lecturer in this pointless paper called Media Laws and Ethics decides that since we're not over-worked enough with a news bulletin, a movie, and about 23-odd assignments (all due at the same time, give or take a day), she wants us to make a "girly, glitzy scrapbook". What's the problem, you ask? Well, the scarpbook has to have at least 6 different articles holding different views on ONE SINGLE CASE in India, and has to be followed over a period of at least 3 months in papers, and should be connected to one of the few barely-known media laws. Which was so simple for us, because there were only about 3 cases like that, and there were 80 of us, and all 80 of us needed to have a "different" viewpoint. Oh and this was an individual project.

We don't do girly! Miyu and I had a hard time thinking girly, glittery ways of putting together newspaper articles going on and on about some random nonsense that we doubt they themselves understood. Ok, well, not Miyu. Her scrapbook made me turn away from her in shame...handmade paper, glitter...the works. Shameful. I cut out chart paper to size A4 and stuck my newspaper articles on those. No glitter for me, thanks.

And then there was the external examiner. "He's so cute!" gushed one of the BCFs. For those of you who are unfamiliar with this term, it is the Bimbo Clone Factory syndrome. It's all those girls who shop at the same places, wear the same style of clothes, have the same shoes, the same handbags, etc etc. You get the drift. This city is full of them. They are also known in some circles as Barbie Dolls. Anyway, so once someone said "so cute" I knew I'd hate him. And I did. He made no sense, spoke with a lisping whisper (or a whispering lisp) that he probably thought made him look smart or scholarly or something. (I heard him speak normally afterward...don't slam me for being insensitive) He asked me the same question 7 times in different ways, and we ended up arguing about sociology. Excerpts -

WeirdMan -
"If the UK government has no problem with this, why would the Indian government have a problem?"
Me -
o.O "Er...MAYBE because the Indian society still needs to evolve to accept what other nations consider alright...we're still very traditional in a lot of ways."
WeirdMan -
*gives me a long, regarding look* "So you're saying India is backward. Are you ashamed of being an Indian?"
Me -
o.O "Um, no. I said India is still very traditional, which doesn't mean we're backward. We have a lot of societal, cultural and religious constraints that will take years to evolve into something more open. That doesn't signify backwardness, it signifies strong roots. And I'm not ashamed of being Indian."
WeirdMan -
"Yes, OK, but if the UK government does not censor a particular movie then why should the Indian government censor it?"

And so on. It was exasperating. Tiring. Annoying. He dismissed me at the end of it with a smirk and a wave of the hand. Which is when I wanted to clout him over the head with a frying pan. Luckily for him I wasn't carrying one around.

So, yes, I have been Actively Not Having A Life. Of course, there have been sources of amusement throughout all the madness, but those don't count towards Having A Life.

Ergoplum, following another unexplained mood swing, didn't turn up for the exam today. I understand, I do...I have my mood swings too...bad ones...but I try hard not to be anti-social and I write my exams... I called him about a zillion times today (no, I didn't count, it's an exaggeration) and when he finally picked up I couldn't yell at him. Hormones, hormones. I just did the whole "I-love-you-and-all-but-you-can't-keep-doing-this" psychobabble. He let me speak, he did. I think he figured, after the 3rd time I told him how much I loved him, that I was high on cough syrup. He did make a small joke though. Good for him. *insert smile here*

Well...the next paper is in Industrial Psychology, which is by far the most boring paper ever. Everything resembles everything else and nothing is unique. Which makes writing the paper a real *itch. My only consolation is that it will all be over in a few months.

Ta!

Speaking of bad days...

2008-10-10T18:02:00.002+05:30

Today was a good day. I had a not-as-bad-as-expected exam, a screwing viva which was alright because I did well in it anyway, yummy food, quality time with Miyu and Ergoplum, and rain that I got slightly wet in. So it was good day. For the first time ever, I wanted it to stay that way...rare happiness, feeling of joy and all that jazz.

But things just HAD to go wrong.

So now I'm sitting with my best friend, my laptop, the most patient listener, and typing out parts of my unexplainable hurt-ness and frustration.

And I want to cry.

Damned hormones, huh?

The Eternal Pessimist

2008-10-06T19:24:00.002+05:30

Today is turning out to be a good day. I don't like good days. It means something's wrong in the universe.

My sewing is going great. I embroidered an entire dress with little annoying swirly designs and pricked my finger with the damned needle about a million times. And the dress looks amazing. I hate it. Luckily the owner is coming to get it tomorrow.

This just in...the day has officially become crappy following receipt of a letter. I feel strangely calm now. Everything's going to be okay...because the day wasn't good throughout.

Joy.

Sewing...?

2008-10-06T14:17:00.002+05:30

Needle. Thread. Thread needle.
Cloth. Needle. Weave cloth with needle.
Pull thread through.

Stress busting stuff.

When I get tensed, I usually go for a walk to release all the nervous energy. But if you want to be safe in this city where I live, you need to own a pair of testicles. So no walks for me anymore, unless I have company, which I never do.

So I found this new thing. Sewing. And it's working. I'm doing some hand embroidery. No, not embroidering my hand, genius, but sewing on pretty stuff onto cloth by hand. It's coming out well.

And now I will divert from topic, because it's what I do.

Met Ergoplum today, who, surprisingly, turned up for his exam without me waking him up. After last night's hysterical breakdown (mine) I suppose he didn't really expect a wake-up call or something. Thank you, Ergoplum. I woke up this morning and forgot that I had forgotten to ask him his exam timing, and assured myself it was in the afternoon batch. I was wrong, as informed by my ever-helpful room mate. I think she got some sadistic pleasure in seeing me freak out at not having woken him (Ergoplum). So I hurried to college, mainly to get back my 5-subject notebook which Abnormal Cow had confiscated (it had notes on all five papers!) a few weeks ago, and to make sure Ergoplum wouldn't have to take his exam AGAIN next year same time because he missed it this time. And he was there. I had to fight the urge to run into the exam hall and hug him. He was with SleepyBoi, who I don't know. I mean, I know SleepyBoi's name, but I don't know SleepyBoi. I just know that he looked...sleepy...and that he gave me weird, knowing grins. Slightly unnerving, but then again, I'm not exactly normal.

So Ergoplum gave his exam, I grovelled and begged for 20 minutes and finally got back my notes from the cow, Miyu and Bub didn't fight (wow), and Miyu and I caught lunch and some girl time. So it was a good-ish day. If it continues to be a good day, something is wrong in the universe today. Planet alignment or something. Something's off somewhere.

The Eternal Pessimist hath spoken.

*smile*

Oh, which reminds me. Someone told me it scares them to see me smile. Apparently I am "evil" and "bad" and the smile is scary. "Verry scary", he said, and his three friends nodded emphatically. And then I smiled at them and walked away, smiling at everyone I saw.

Fun.

Day after is Abe's birthday. I love the boy, I do...but I can't imagine calling him to wish him...so social networking site it is. Which kind of negates the whole "best-friends-for-10-years-before-he-left-and-became-someone-else" thing. Oh wait. It doesn't. Social Networking Site, here I come. What are distant former best friends for anyway?

For the record, I still love Abe and his sister more than anyone else. They've just been...distant...I'm guessing where they're at now, I'm pretty much in the "uncool" category.

Ah well...what the heck.

It's a beautiful day! Something has to go wrong soon! Ah, anticipation... *rubs hands together in glee*

Ah, Ergoplum

2008-10-02T22:28:00.003+05:30

Well, it's been a long, lazy day. I've spent the large majority of it at Ergoplum's place. Now, no naughty thoughts, people...it was one of those "let's-hang-out-and-read-and-laze-around" things.

And what a day it was.

For those of you who haven't read Barry Trotter, do read. It comes highly recommended from yours truly.

Ergoplum and I discussed, my main insecurity...of losing my boyfriend (when I get one) to some random girl/guy because she/he has something/everything I don't.

You see, the thing about insecurities is that just when you think you've lost the bloody idiots, they pop up again when you're least expecting them, like the school loser at the It-girl's sleepover.

So, in a nutshell, my biggest insecurity is this -
My future boyfriend will not be some weirdo/loser, and so he will have had his fair share of girlfriends before me...so...what if I don't measure up? What if I, with my lack of any experience whatsoever, screw up because I don't know HOW to be a sodding girlfriend? What if I'm just another girl for him...just another relationship that he wouldn't take seriously because I'm not any different from any of the other girls before me?

OK, if you're laughing go away. The rest of you nodding your heads emphatically, read on.

The way I work, I psychoanalyze myself all the time...over-analyzing and re-analyzing until my soul begs to be released for a breath of fresh air. In which case, I...well...I don't know what I do. As Abe always said, I'm not really the stop to smell the flowers person. Anyway, so as I was saying, I re- and over- analyzed the whole thing and figured it's take time and a lot of patience on the part of the guy I finally decide to date to help me get over the insecurities. Royal pain, yes, but also true. You see, I can date and hide the insecurity, I'm a good enough actor. But when I do start dating, I'd want to be honest about the way I feel right from the beginning.

Now the regular readers of my blog are probably disappointed and think I've gone soft...I haven't! It's just that my classes ended a few days ago and the non-oppressive atmosphere is giving me this weird high. It will end tomorrow, because our second practical exam is tomorrow...and then there's no brake...so the ranting me will be back. Promise.

I love Ergoplum...a new reason today, folks...the perspective he gives me...it's like when the doors and windows in your mind are shut, Ergoplum comes along and breaks down the wall.

*sigh* How much I love that man.

Later, people...apparently there's some sort of presentation to be made for tomorrow's exam. I still don't know why I'm doing it, but yes, I'm doing it. Like I said, the ranting will be back.

Ah, peace.

2008-09-27T13:20:00.002+05:30

So university is finally over...this semester, I mean. In two days our practical exams will begin, then the theory papers, and on October 24th, we shall all be done with our 5th semester in this god-forsaken place. Which means, come April, we will graduate. And will never have to see this place again.

Ah, joy.

Miyuki, Bub (her boyfriend) and I have planned a day trip for Ergoplum tomorrow...as a belated birthday thing. It's going to be fun...the place is amazing, so all we have to do now is a LOT of cooking and just hope that Ergoplum's mood is going to be ok. You see, I love him and all, but his moods are worse than mine when I'm PMSing...and that's saying something.

Well...more later...got his gift to finish making. :)

Finding Me

2008-09-22T22:47:00.002+05:30

I lost myself a few years ago and didn't quite miss me. It just hit me today as I was drinking a glass of cold water.
Now, in order to find me, I had to ascertain where and how I had lost me. So I went on a little walk down the cliched memory lane.
I found nothing.
And then I went back to drinking my glass of (now) room temperature water.

What I did find was the thing that was making me miserable. It was LoverBoi. See, I missed him so much all day, it developed into this dull ache that I, typically, ignored. It made me miserable. So I called him. He was (still) in a bad mood and could only manage to grunt in reply to whatever I asked him. So the misery continues, after a minute-long phone call with the reason for my misery.

I also found a disturbing thought lurking in the shadows of one of the alleys off the lane. Mildly homicidal, with low tolerance for bitchy, whiny women who were getting on my nerves. Disturbing...in a good way. This is one homicide I wouldn't mind going to jail for.

And now I must sleep, or else I will be in a lousy mood all day long tomorrow, which, by the way, is already promising to be a lousy one. So what else is new when you study in...the place I study...?

Backstage Passes and Shobaa De

2008-09-21T20:17:00.004+05:30

Yes, that was the name of our literature seminar. And no, there weren't any backstage passes, simply because the only people you would find backstage would be the people like me, running around in our blazers with papers in hands, pencil holding up our (sweaty) tresses, frantically trying to get things going according to schedule AND being nice to everybody because organizers are not allowed to lose their cool under stress, no matter how unreasonable things may be, no matter whose fault things go wrong. The organizers smile, apologize, and get yelled at by everybody. It's a joyous feeling.
So the highlight of the whole event was Shobaa De, who was the chief guest. As Ergoplum put it, "she's damn hot for a 60 year old!" I had to agree. She carries herself with this rare grace born out of being bold enough to speak up, speak out, and refuse to be silenced. No matter what we may say, there are few women with that kind of strength, especially in India. Something she said struck a chord somewhere deep within - if you have something to say, say it...don't let society shut you up. Now, I am not personally a big fan of her writing, but I respect her for being the woman she is. This piece of advice she tossed out so vehemently found its way to the long-term storage in my mind and filed itself neatly. She has a point. We are always scared - of society, of parents, of peers, of friends - mocking us, telling us we're wrong, or that it is not our business to comment on things that we talk about...Shobaa De wasn't talking only about women when she said we should speak up - it's equally applicable to the men too! So speak up, people!! Speak up!! You have the damned right to have an opinion, and you bloody well have the right to express it. How you express it, of course, can make all the difference in the world, but the point is - express!!!
Following the dance performances at the seminar today, I have decided to go ahead with my plan to do a diploma in dance after I graduate from this place. It is just such a brilliant feeling to dance, to let go of everything and just feel the music... I had almost forgotten how that felt...today brought it back.
I also fell in love with the voice of the keyboardist from the first band. No names mentioned. But really...*sigh*...what a voice.
After that incredibly tiring day, running around, rescheduling the whole program due to unforeseen delays in the morning session, getting yelled at by everybody, not eating, not drinking anything, and then finally helping close the whole thing up, I was given the "honour" of writing a press release. Now honestly, I like writing and all, and I appreciate the opportunity and all, but NOT when I spent the whole day running around with my uncombed hair falling out of the knot it was put into, held by two pencils, getting yelled at for no fault of mine, and being tired!
But then again, I have to complete my psychology practical record, due for submission tomorrow...so yeah...I guess it's another sleepless night.
I love my life.

Insecurities...

2008-09-19T23:36:00.002+05:30

They eat you up, feeding on your very existence. Baseless, completely pointless, and absolutely irrational. But they're still there. Right behind that smile. Look closely. See that little black shadow of doubt? The merest flicker of fear? Yep. Insecurity.

It's a piss off, really. Just when you think everything's going great and life is this big party, doubt comes knocking. You don't open the door, but he stays there, the sodding bastard. And you know he's there. It feels like crap. Some people have this really cool ability to tune out his presence and pretend everything's ok. These people, we call the "secure" individuals. The others, the rest of us "sadder" folks, are "in touch" with our insecurities...disturbingly touch-y, in fact.

I'm one of the sadder people. Not ashamed to admit it. I know what I fear, I know (now) why I fear, and I (now) solve the fear.

Jazzboi (my ex, as he was called in school following the saxophone incident) planted this seed in me a long time ago. Sounds vaguely dirty, I know, but it's not. He managed to convince me that I'm not worth anything or anyone, that no matter how good I am at something, no matter how good I may look today, there is always someone better than me, prettier than me, and the people who matter to me would invariably find the better, prettier person. I believed him. So for a long time, I convinced myself that I really am not worth anything or anyone. Along came an Ergoplum.

The thing with people like Ergoplum is that they're hard to find and harder to keep. I found and have kept. Coming back to the topic. Ergoplum, in his own...um...endearing...way, jolted me back into my senses. Which here means, he made me realize how stupid I'm being.

So here's the thing now. With Loverboi, I'm being stupid by being insecure. I've been through the phase of pushing him away when I didn't keep in touch with him for about two months, I've been through the phase of thinking about nothing but him, I've been through the phase of dealing with the remote possibility that he would fall in love with some prettier, smarter, perfect-er girl, etc etc. So what have I got to be insecure about? Hence, I'm picking up all the insecurities by the hair(s) and kicking them out. For good.

The way I see it, I want to give this a shot. Me and Loverboi, I mean. How am I going to give it a shot if I'm going to be insecure and/or scared? Kind of defeats the purpose, huh? So, yeah, I'm not going to let Jazzboi get in the way of my life anymore...I've moved on. I'm going to give this my best shot with Loverboi, because I know it will work. (Here I am, talking as though he's asked me out already, but yeah...wishful thinking. Works.) Yay, me.

LostChick and I were chatting a little while ago. Of course, chatting now-a-days revolves around the "do you have the format for unimportant project number 79?" topic. Which brings me to the rant on the fucked up educational institution I study in. More on that later, mainly because this post is supposed to be about insecurities...also because I've got to get back to my preparations for tomorrow...it's Ergoplum's birthday. *smiles*

Happiness

2008-09-16T19:12:00.002+05:30

I don't want to blog about the reason behind this particular post, so I'm just going to randomly talk about the way I feel.

Happy. Yes, Anya is happy. Finally. It's happiness marred by doubt and a lot of insecurity, but both are gradually fading away. So yes, I'm happy. (Still unhappy and mildly pissed about HotBoi dating HairTossGirl, but let's not go there now)

Something happened on the 14th of September, two days ago, Sunday, that is lending to my immense happiness. I'm not allowed to discuss it here, and I honestly don't want to, but I just thought I should share with the world how happy I am.

I will now stop using the word happy. It's just plain pissing off.

Alright back to HotBoi and HairTossGirl then. I've decided to wipe my previous memories of her away and get to know her all over again - coz if HotBoi likes her, then there has to be something there... I hope. So, yes, I will swallow my pride and get to know the woman I swore I would never have anything to do with ever. So much for that.

I wonder if there is some sort of cosmic counter for individual swears...
"I swear I'll never eat that crap again!"
"Eat your veggies or no dessert!"
"Yes, dear."
That kinda thing. How many of us have sworn to do or not do something, but have conveniently forgotten about it or added a clause or constructed a loophole just because it makes life simpler? I have. Numerous times. And I'm doing it again. Doesn't feel all that bad. I just hope she's worth the effort.

I'm still happy. Don't worry, it'll last only for a bit. Unless, of course, this is that special event that changes your life.

Shocking...

2008-09-13T20:18:00.002+05:30

Met my childhood friend today. Let's call him HotBoi - because that's what he is. Personality and everything. And incredibly grounded for someone like that. He's one of those rare catches that every girl dreams of. And I find out, later, that he is currently dating HairToss Girl. (For regular readers, this is the same girl who has that long straight-ish hair and kept tossing it around in language class)

Imagine the shock...I always worshiped the ground that he walked on, which is weird, because I never do that...not even with my parents! And I hear today about how much he likes HairToss Girl...which made me want to puke! Suddenly, HotBoi who is supposedly all smart and everything, has pathetic taste in women...either that or HairToss Girl is using more than usual of that charm. *sigh*

More ranting later...I just HAVE to pee.

Random Rant number...whatever.

2008-09-12T22:03:00.004+05:30

Random rant follows regarding random frustrations of no significant importance whatsoever. With examples, of course, comes from studying where I do. Examples matter.

Take the guy I love, for example number 1. He's hot, is sexy in a way that only he can pull off, his intelligence intimidates people, he has a decently paying job, he has a beautiful, smart woman throwing herself at him almost shamelessly...he has every guy's perfect life. And he still thinks life is a bitch...why???

Then there's example number 2. The cardboard box outside our gates suddenly found itself housing four incredibly cute little kittens yesterday. This morning found the same box looking rather lost and forlorn, missing the cuteness factor. Why? Where did the kittens go?!

For example number 3, which is more mildly amusing than frustrating, there is a very confused fork in my handbag. Neither I nor the fork knows how it got there, and neither I nor the fork are bothered to return its metallic rear to its rightful place. It is now facing a little bit of an identity crisis and what I can only call a racial discrimination - it somehow invariably ends up under all the books and debris...right at the bottom of the handbag social strata.

Example number 4 is the increasing use of the term "camera whore". It's mildly disturbing to hear it used a few hundred times everyday.

Equally disturbing are the female mosquitoes in this sodding place. Apparently mosquitoes don't have female infanticide or whatever, and seem to produce only female specimens. If the Indian community were so generous with the X chromosome, India would have been a saner place to live in. We need more women. Coming back to the mosquitoes, they're the biggest source of frustration apart from humidity, heat, and my college-turned-university.

I hate humidity. Stickiness and heat irritates me beyond anything. So do sweaty hands. Big time turn off.

I hate not knowing things. Of late, I realized it's a good thing to pretend not to know something - it saves you the trouble of doing/explaining something.

My patience levels are wearing thin. Comes from trying to force myself to let go of aforementioned guy-I'm-in-love-with. It's just so bloody difficult.

Low patience levels also comes from being strong or trying to be strong, or even pretending to be strong. Note to self: Must ask ergoplum for a long hug so that I can be temporarily not-strong and scared.

Irritability also comes from having to deal with an ex dying of cancer and multiple health problems. And the possibility that I may not have much time left either.

Life...is a bitch.

Survival of the Fittest

2008-08-28T18:07:00.003+05:30

I survived the exams. Somehow it doesn't feel as good and freedom-y as I thought it would. Or maybe I'm just immune, as the thing(s) we do in our college (now university) are write exams. One set after another. It's almost as thought they honestly think the only thing we will ever be expected to do once we get our degree is to write exams. Thus the training. Boring papers and redundant questions to top it all. Ah, college life.

I am also surviving (or pretending to survive) my decision to "let go" of Him. No, not whatever supernatural force you may believe in, I'm talking about the guy I'm in love with. Let's call him 'Loverboi' for now, shall we? So yeah, I decided a little while ago to let go of him - not stop loving him, of course, but just letting go of this insane self-degrading thought process that depressed me every time I looked at him.

It's not easy, but it's worth a try.

Step 1:
So the "I'm-not-worth-it-he-deserves-so-much-more-than-me" train of thought was derailed and then thrown into a rather large compartment in my mind and locked up for more deserving moments of self pity.
Step 2:
Then I looked into a mirror for the first time in a while. Damn, I'm pretty. I have these nice eyes, and a nice smile despite the crooked-ish teeth. I also have nice clear skin which I've managed to tan to this lovely honey-brown colour.
Step 3:
And then I looked back at my school and college life till date, and I realized I'm smart too, not just academically, but also in a lot of other ways.
Step 4:
Then there's the extra-curricular stuff. I sing, I dance, I'm into theatre, I write decently enough, and I'm a good cook. I'm good with kids and animals, get along with most people, and, as he put it once before, I'm the "perfect mix of sweet and sarcastic".

So there. 4 steps to the DIY Self-Esteem Booster shot. Simple?

Not. It's bloody hard. After years of learning, or being told, not to praise yourself, looking into the mirror and assessing your looks or looking back into the past and assessing your intelligence is nowhere close to easy. It should come naturally to most people, yes, but especially in the Indian society, children are taught to not praise themselves for fear of being seen by others as "boastful". There lay the problem. And I solved it. So no more insecurity for me, thank you very much. I know there are women who are prettier, smarter, and better than I am at a lot of things I do. But I also know that I'm one of a kind to have all of it in varying degrees in me.

*smiles*

So, like I was saying, I told this man that I'm letting go of him. I told him I'm taking a step back and then holding out my hand, and he can take that step forward and take my hand if he realizes what he'll miss if he doesn't. I didn't say it in those words, of course. I gave him the gist of it in between violent dust-induced sneezes while Miyuki and my sister went to get credit on their prepaid(s).

He nodded and said "ok", which made me want to hit him, but then again, that's just him. Sometimes I wish he'd say something more, but I guess there's either too many disconnected thoughts running around in his head to frame into sentences, or there's nothing that makes sense whatsoever. Either ways, I know he got what I meant.

I'm also trying now to survive as the best-friends-but-not-a-chance-of-being-anything-else-because-he's-over-me person.

Survival of the Fittest. I wish they had some sort of gym where you could walk in and train yourself for this sort of pain.

Strangely exhilarating though.

Randomly...

2008-08-20T14:39:00.002+05:30

Alright, so tomorrow is the exam on our toughest paper - 'Literary Theory and Criticism'. It makes NO sense whatsoever. I can't stand it. The only solace is that by end of September I will be done with the damned thing for good.

We have 11 extremely boring, lengthy essays written by people who do not seem to know how to use simple sentences. If a sentence can be said simply, and if you want to feature in text books, make it complicated...as complicated as you want. When people don't understand exactly what you mean, they prescribe your writing to text books. These are essays that deal with easily understandable concepts, mind you - they're just written in such a way that you have to re-read every sentence about 5 times before you begin to get the gist of it. Imagine 16 pages of that per essay.

Why am I online and writing this right now? I don't know. I suppose one reason is that I know I'm not going to do well anyway, so am not going to even bother trying. And I suppose the other is that writing (or typing, in this case) somehow helps me clear my thoughts. It does not matter that I have written a 7-page long rant in the past 25 minutes - I have a lot on my mind!

I think I will definitely flunk tomorrow's paper. Or maybe I should do what Ergoplum did and just not go. *sigh*

So let's see. Love life = non-existent, academic life = down the drain, social life = also non-existent owing to crabby moods. I don't think I have any more aspects to cover.

Suddenly I feel very small.

The Vision

2008-08-17T12:26:00.002+05:30

I had a vision
early this morning.
It was of me,
waking up next to
a man,
handsome,
his arms around me.
The room was big,
beautiful,
with lovely wide
bay windows
and a view of the sea.
The man,
according to the ring
on my finger,
was my husband,
but I didn't know
who he was
or what he was doing
in my bed.
In the vision,
I closed my eyes
and saw your face,
saw all the opportunities
all over again
in my mind.
A tear found its way
out of my eye
and picked its slow path
down my cheek.
Married to someone,
mother of three children,
a handsome husband,
three beautiful children
and a great life -
all of which
should have been with you.
In the vision,
I imagined myself
telling you to
give it another shot,
to just let go
and let things happen.
I imagined the way
it should have,
could have,
would have been -
you and me together,
married,
beautiful children
and a happy life.
In the vision,
I opened my eyes -
the stranger in my bed
pulled me down
for that morning cuddle,
and I thought of you,
closed my eyes again
and fooled myself
into thinking it was you.
Is that how
you would feel too?

Tonight I can write the saddest lines

2008-08-17T12:18:00.001+05:30

- Pablo Neruda

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.

Write, for instance:"The night is full of stars,
and the stars, blue, shiver in the distance."

The night wind whirls in the sky and sings.

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too.

On nights like this, I held her in my arms.
I kissed her so many times under the infinite sky.

She loved me, sometimes I loved her.
how could I not have loved her large, still eyes?

I can write the saddest poem of all tonight.
To think I don't have her. To feel that I've lost her.

To hear the immense night, more immense without her.
And the poem falls to the soul as dew to grass.

What does it matter that my love couldn't keep her.
The night is full of stars and she is not with me.

That's all. Far away, someone sings. Far away.
My soul is lost without her.

As if to bring her near, my eyes search for her.
My heart searches for her and she is not with me.

The same night that whitens the same trees.
We, we who were, we are the same no longer.

I no longer love her, true, but how much I loved her.
My voice searched the wind to touch her ear.

Someone else's. She will be someone else's. As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Her voice, her light body. Her infinite eyes.

I no longer love her, true, but perhaps I love her.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because on nights like this I held her in my arms,
my soul is lost without her.

Although this may be the last pain she causes me,
and this may be the last poem I write for her.

==========

I found this on a dear friend's blog...loved it...it just fits so well to my current scenario, except the last couple of lines... beautiful one, this.

All I want...

2008-08-17T10:46:00.002+05:30

"Look,
I don't know
what to say
that will melt
your heart.
All I know is,
you're incredible.
No make that
ineffable
I just want a chance
to love you,
and show you
what a genuine relationship
is supposed to be."

All I want
is you.

Thought for the day

2008-08-15T19:05:00.002+05:30

I love the smell of fabric softener. It has this...soft...smell.

When I get married (yes, I'm suddenly sure I want to), I'm going to love doing laundry and smelling the smell of fabric softener on my husband's (and children's) clothes. I'm going to love the smell of my terrace/balcony/lawn after the clothes have been hung out to dry.

This is the single most important thought running through my head on the day before my Abnormal Psychology paper. I just had to share it.

My happy smells thought was just interrupted by the arrival of my parents at my PG (Paying Guest Accommodation) gates. They chose to stand downstairs, on the road, and yell out to me instead of calling me on my cell phone and asking me to come down. Go figure. This is proof that I come from messed up DNA.

*sigh*

So where was I? Ah yes...exam tomorrow.

Alright. See ya all later.

Shatter

2008-08-09T21:24:00.002+05:30

I stand at the window
feeling the wind tugging
at my uncombed hair.
A stray strand whips my face,
refusing to leave.
The papers fly off the table
and into the darkness behind me,
blank pages weighed down
by my tears, now dried.

And I think of you,
as always.
You, my first muse.
You, with that crooked smile,
the bemused look in your eyes,
when you look at me
like that.

How can you ask me
to forget?
Can I ever forget
the feel of your arms
around me,
or the warmth that you,
only you, have?
Can I ever forget
the way my heart skips,
my pulse jumps,
the shallowed breathing
when you're around?
Can I ever forget
the feel of complete ease,
the comfort, the security,
the love,
I feel only when I'm
with you?

You're the only one
who knows me
without my masks...
the only one
who accepts me
without wanting me
to be perfect...
the only one
I have ever loved,
the only one
I can ever love.

I know it's hard -
it's meant to be.
It's meant to hurt -
I don't mind that.
This pain, intense, searing,
spreading through me,
slowly,
purposefully -
it feels so good...
is it meant to?

How do I get over you
when you're the first,
the only?

What do I try now
that I haven't
for the past 7 months?

How do I stop myself
from comparing
every guy I meet
to you
and finding not one
good enough?

How do I stop the tears?

How do I get over you?

They tell me I'm stupid.
There are better-looking men,
smarter men,
taller, hotter men...
They tell me I'm worth more,
much more,
than your love.
How do I tell them,
I don't want them?
Can they understand
this feeling?
Can they understand
that I can't,
just simply can't
love anyone else
the way I love you,
no matter how hard I try?

I still remember
the feel of him,
cold, distant, not you...
the way I had to
keep my eyes open
because the only face
I saw
when they were closed
was yours.
Forcing those feelings
for him
when all I wanted was you -
do you know how hard it was?

Hating myself everyday
for letting you go,
for walking away that night
instead of running
back into your arms
like I wanted to...

How do I live with myself?

How many more nights
must I cry myself to sleep?

How many more times
must I wear all those masks,
just to be seen in public?

How many more pieces
should I write about you
till it's all out
of my system?

How many more cracks
will fall on the inner wall
that only you have gone beyond,
till it all comes
crashing down on me?

How many more tears?

How many pieces
will I shatter into?

How to live...

2008-08-06T20:37:00.003+05:30

It's that dangerous calm you feel before you take out that blade hidden in your drawer and cut yourself again, after all these years.

Where you can feel the pressure build up inside, making your eyes hurt and your head throb, and everything's blurred, but there is this sort of quiet somewhere in the depths, and this weird sort of clarity.

Something inside feels like it's being split apart and you collapse to your knees.

You feel it again, rising up, threatening to spill over and take over, and you quell it down again, putting everything you have to push it down and into one of those many compartments in your head.

You lock the drawer and throw the key onto the highest shelf, and then curl up in the darkest corner in your room and hug your pillow tight.

The tears come, and they keep coming, and you let them flow, hoping it'll ease the pain.

When the pain only gets worse, you tell yourself to get a grip, wipe the tears away, plaster the best excuse for a smile onto your face and do what you've always done.

Maybe this time you'll convince yourself too.

Untitle-able...

2008-08-03T09:19:00.003+05:30

This partially completed poem was written a while ago...it's found a new relevance now...I've edited it a little to suit the present scenario.

---

What do you see
when you look at me
like that?

What do you hear
when you listen
to all the things I say –
things that don’t make sense
even to me?

What are you thinking
when you hold me like that,
smelling my hair,
smiling to yourself?

Do you know,
I've fallen for you?

---

I have to complete the rest of the poem...will do that when I'm less sleepy, I think.

Suffocate...relevant excerpts

2008-08-02T21:27:00.003+05:30

I cant breathe when you talk to me
I cant breathe when you're touching me
I suffocate when you're away from me
So much love you take from me
I'm going out of my mind

I wonder if you feel me loving you
'Cause I can't go a night without your loving
Got me looking at this phone,
Every time it rings I'm hoping it's you

You've got me bracing for your love and I've
Fallen for you, I cant lie
I just want to be with you

I cant go a day without you
And see, nobody else will ever do
I'll never feel like I feel with you

'Cause I cant breathe when you talk to me
I cant breathe when you're touching me
I suffocate when you're away from me
So much love you take from me
I'm going out of my mind...

A stained life

2008-08-02T21:15:00.002+05:30

This is a story I thought I lost. It was written years ago, inspired by a girl I met back then. It has been edited and rewritten numerous times, but here I thought I'd leave it the way it was written originally. I was told that this girl committed suicide recently. So...yeah...here it is...in memory of that girl with the beautiful, sad eyes, eyes that are now closed forever.

My wrists hurt. They’re bleeding, cut by 8 days in ropes. Auntie spits on the bed, right next to where my face is. The stench of her paan-stained saliva makes me want to retch, but I know I have to hold it in if I want to avoid more pain. She grabs my hair and I muffle a cry, scared to make the smallest sound, scared to breathe. She pulls me off the bed and throws me onto the cold floor.

“Get up. Go wash your face, you filthy creature,” she yelled. “There is a new set of clothes on your bed. Wear those and come back here. Get used to all of it now. You filthy little slut!”

She spits again and storms out of the room, taking the smell of sweat, make-up and jasmine with her. The cold air swirls into the room from the partially open door, and for a few moments I am able to breathe. As the room continues its lazy spin around me, a strangely comforting blackness calls out to me, like Ma’s soothing voice.

“Ma? Is that you? Take me back home, Ma…It hurts…everything hurts…”

The man grunts as he gets off the bed and buttons his shirt. He throws a bunch of notes onto my belly and walks out of the room. Another face, another body, another addition to my “earnings” that will go to my aging parents back home.

Parents who sold me to my aunt.

Parents who believed that I was brought here to work.

Parents who would die if they ever found out what my work is.

My fingers tremble as I pick up the wad of money, put it on the table next to the bed and pick up my half-torn clothes from the floor. A peal of laughter erupts from the next room. Must be the couple I saw in the lobby earlier today. He had his arms around her shoulders, holding her close to him; protectively. She was gazing into his eyes, her tinkling laughter mingling with the bass of his voice. The perfect picture of happiness, of love…of things I can never hope for. I stand up on my unsteady legs as I pulled on my clothes. Stuffing the money into my purse, I walk as normally as possible, trying to ignore the ever-present pain and discomfort between my legs. All I want to do is sleep – for sleep is instant panacea; for everything.

I pull the door open and crash into what seems like a wall. I look up and realize, in fear, that it is the man again, the one who just left me. Before I know what is going on, he grabs my hair and drags me into the room. I have to struggle to keep my voice down, for I know that for every sound I make other than what is demanded of me, there will be three lashes waiting for me back at Auntie’s. As he throws me onto the bed, the fear returns again tenfold.

“My meeting got cancelled. Pleasure me,” he grunted. A demand. I am the slave. It is not my job to question. It is my job to obey, and just that…but how can I now? He just had his brutal way with me, tearing me apart, violating me…

“Sir please…please sir…please let me go…please sir…not again, sir…please”

The stinging feeling across my face tells me I’ve gone too far – and that I will pay for it. The too-familiar stench of sweat and sex fill my senses again and the torture begins once more. As the sounds and the pain associated with them begin to fade away into darkness, I see Ma standing at the window, staring out into the starry skies. Can’t she see me? Can’t she see this man?

“Ma!!! Ma!!! Ma please help me, Ma! Ma…”

Update...

2008-08-02T20:48:00.003+05:30

So the dance was pathetic, I fell thrice on the freshly waxed stage and we all lost coordination, and so we screwed up royally and didn't place.

Today's compering for Western Electric event in college went well-ish though...but doesn't quite make up for the previous loss.

And for those concerned about the trivial matters in my life, the love life is still pathetic.

*sigh*

But yes...will follow ergoplum's advice to lighten up...he's one of the few things that make sense in my life at the moment.

Sleep.

Return of the Writer...

2008-07-30T21:13:00.003+05:30

What do you tell yourself when you let go of this person because of some sort of weird momentary confusion, and then later figure out that this is the one person you want to be with?

Why would your otherwise pessimistic mind then look for the tiniest ray of hope, no matter how minuscule?

Where do you look when he/she looks at you because you're scared to look back into his/her eyes because he/she will see what you're trying to convince yourself doesn't exist?

When you steal those glances at him, hoping with everything you have that he doesn't look up, are you supposed to enjoy the slow pain that seems to spread throughout your body?

Who do you turn to when you want to cry for being so stupid and not seeing the obvious?

How do you console yourself when this person tells you that he/she is over you?

I know it's my fault...I let go of something I've only dreamed about for something I wasn't sure of...and I'm regretting it now...

I haven't felt this way about anyone - it effectively silences me every time I think of it, of the fact that it is possible for someone to love someone else so much. It scares me in this weirdly comforting way.

It has to mean something that of all the people I know and love, this one person holds this one special place in my heart and will continue to do so, no matter who I meet - this I'm sure of.

Well, so much for the ranting/whining session.

I've been away for a whole month...simply because nothing's inspired me enough to write. Not that anything's inspiring me now, though...I just happened to return from dance practice a little earlier than usual. Oh wait...that may just be because the competition's day after tomorrow and we don't want to stress ourselves too much.

Speaking of which...I need a whole lot of what a lot of people refer to as "positive energy". Contributions are welcome.

So the highlight in my fast-paced life right now (apart from the glowing reviews post-theatre performance and the upcoming dance) is my (again) pathetic love life...or lack of it.

Still with me? Go away now... I think I need to sleep.

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Deception...

2008-06-01T17:45:00.000+05:30

We don our masks
every morning...
before we go to work,
before we go to school,
or college,
hide the scars from the past,
the pain from yesterday's fight,
or last night's argument.
Our masks - so many masks...
deception plays its addictive game
as we step out ever morning,
as we return every night.
Masks...so many masks...
thousands in the closet
in our minds,
our souls.
Who am I?
I don't even have
an answer to that question.
So many masks...
Have I lost myself in them?