There I was, with my long earrings touching my neck with every step I took, feeling delicate and lovely, walking home. It didn't matter that it was 11.00. That the road was dark and there was some random guy walking just in front of me. I walked fast until I crossed the road. The stars were bright, the night was clear and I was alone for the first time today. I just enjoyed the breeze and walked. It wasn't a long distance, but for the first time in a long time, I walked slowly, unconscious to everything else but myself. I didn't think of anything, just looked at the stones, at the sky at the road ahead. For the first time in a long time, I let myself not think. And feel.
But I was not completely off-guard. Not completely oblivious. There was that guy walking on the other side of the road. We walked together. At the same pace. I kept expecting something nasty, or sick to happen. It didn't.
And somehow, I learned to trust again.

Insipid-ness

I feel old. And I know that its NOT because my birthday is 'nigh'. There are still four more months to go till that horror.
So I promised Raga I'd make a public blog. But I've been thinking. WTF? - With a few edits, this blog could become public. Its so much a part of me that I would feel guilty to start another one. Sigh. I wonder what it feels like to be motivated. To be driven.
Ellu's like that. He talks to me about it a lot. Why dont you do this or that? You have so many ideas, blah blah.. Its a little scary when someone who knows you for such a short time seems to have so much faith in what you can do. But honestly.. Its not just about drive or doing squat.
I feel lethargy settling down on me like a cosy blanket that feels warm and comfortable until it starts to suffocate the life out of my hum-drum life. Wait. Scratch that. My life is not hum-drum. Far from it. I am doing my PG degree, am acting in a play after years and years, taking part in competitions, blogging regularly after months.
Ooooh. Blogging regularly never is a good sign for me. Neither is my low attendance in college. I'll figure something out as soon as I get my food. The delivery guy has been standing at the door for the last five minutes. But my wallet's in the next room. Sigh.

Neither here, nor there.

Sometimes I think I am going mad. When there is absolutely nothing to be mad about!

I have always been afraid of mediocrity. Afraid of being ordinary. Of living in limbo. Of achieving nothing - bad or good. Of living life with no excitement. You know 'when she was bad she was very very bad, and when she was good, she was very very good.' That's my ideal life. However.
Yesterday, I was told that I am boring!

Boring. Sigh. I think maybe I should get a navel ring or an eyebrow piercing. Or a tattoo. Or streaks in my hair. Or even just a rosary. How can I be boring?!?!?

To blog or not to blog?

So there was this blogging competition in college. I didnt take part in it. They still managed to make me blather out a few incoherent words. But I didnt register. 'Why?' they asked. Well, because. Its personal. Who likes to see their innermost feelings and thoughts put out on display especially to a group of people about whom they are about? But why do you blog then? - they asked. Well.. Its different. I blog because its a journal. I blog because it hones my writing skills. I blog because I want to. Its different if one of the people I talk about come across my blog by themselves. That, is a whole other ball game.

Valentine's Day Violence

This is an editorial I wrote for my college newspaper.
Not great, but then thats what my blog is for, isnt it? Publishing all kinds of shit I write?

On Valentine’s day this year, there were twenty one people who didn’t find the day of love, true to its name. In a repeat performance of last year’s Virginia Tech disaster, though not as bad, a former student at Illinois University opened fire in a lecture hall, killing five students and wounding 16 others. There have been three other major school shootings since Cho Seung-Hui fatally shot 32 people in a dorm and a classroom at Virginia Tech in the deadliest mass shooting in modern US history. Although the history of violence in schools and educational institutions in America dates back to 1927, only two occasions – the Virginia Tech Incident and another 1999 Colorado school episode have resulted in any significant change in the liberal gun laws. While policies haven’t been drastically changed, many experts say that the gun culture and the shootings are both direct impacts of the violence projected in American TV, movies and video games.

In India, for the most part, we seem to view these events as outsiders and hardly ever get ruffled by them. The USA has always been different; these things don’t happen here, we think. But we continue to expose our children to the same violent movies and video games that American children enjoy. Indeed, with the continued westernization of every aspect of the Indian way of life, it would not have been long before violence among children too, came into the limelight. On December 11, 2007, the country was shocked by Abhishek Tyagi’s violent death at the hands of his 14 year old classmate, Akash Yadav. The boy was shot with a gun that had been sneaked into the school by hiding it in a sock. The question that is most important here is not how the gun could so easily have been brought to school, but what made Akash think he can solve bully problems using violence.

Since December there have been several more cases of violence in schools with one student in Madhya Pradesh succumbing to injuries inflicted on him by a senior. The most recent attack occurred on Feb 12th, when an eighth-grader stabbed an 11th-grader in the shoulder and chest at a government school in New Delhi. While these incidents may have been the result of individual tensions and problems, this trend of resorting to violence cannot be overlooked.

Without waiting for more such acts to occur or any more to be killed, the government, in a landmark decision has decided to act. Disciplinary committees of Central government schools have been assigned a pro-active role to check instances of violence among students, the HRD ministry announced on 11th of this month. Whether like many other government decisions this will be implemented or not, is yet to be seen. However, the change needs to start at home. Most psychologists believe that the violence streaming through all the media we are exposed to, has an effect of desensitising all of us, more importantly children, to the horror of actual violent behaviour.

Most Bollywood and Hollywood action heroes don and use guns without thinking twice. Is this what we want our children to learn from? Although only three Indians (as compared to 83 Americans) out of ten thousand bear guns, we are slowly but steadily getting closer. Even though, the greatest perpetrator of non-violence, Mahatma Gandhi is the Father of our Nation, India has hardly been a non-violent country. We have a history of violence and bloodshed dating from even before Independence. Perhaps now, that history has begun to affect our children as well. And before it results in an Indian version of the Virginia Tech Shoot-out, we must ponder on how to set a better example to the next generation.

To you who said goodbye.

I am not really angry. I am just a lil.. well.. jealous. Can you blame me? You are there. And I am here. Nothing can ever happen between us. Ever. And not just because of the distance. I know that well enough. But it sucks. Big time.
I dont love you. But I could. And thats the worst part. Because of what could have been. Because of the beauty of it. Because of the sparks that fly. Because we would have fit. Perfectly. And it would have been just right.
But then circumstances... And even what we talked about, finding a way around things, is not enough. I do not want to be a whore - either intellectual or otherwise. I know thats not exactly what I will be if we do what we jokingly talked of doing. But thats what I am sure I would feel like.
But the worst thing is - its put a distance between us, now. We cant even talk of generic things, now, without leaving so much unsaid, that it stifles the meaning of what we talk about, anyway.
And now, there you are - I see you have a life of your own, now. Completely disengaged from me. Not that we were ever entangled with each other. I thought at first that all the sparks were figments of my imagination. But then you made them real when you asked me about them. When we talked about it later. And how it could not be.
It feels like headbutting against a stone wall. No matter how much we try to walk around it, the fact still remains - it can never be. You were not my only one. Or my last, in fact. But what we might have had - that was something special. The last time I brought it up, you said - 'Anna, it can never happen. So why talk about it?' Thats when I realized that like everyone else, it was so easy for you to bail as well. Why is it so hard for me? Why do I feel like I need to make it work every single time? Why do I always get left behind feeling like shit?
But wait. This is overdoing it. But its not just about you. This about every single guy I've dreamt of. Every single crush I've had. Every single tear I've wept. Everyone I've ever longed for.
How come its so easy for everyone else to move on? How come I always find the courage to stand firm and fight for what I love? And how come every single time its so easy for the others to not?
Yes. I am jealous. Not of her. But of you. Of the life you've managed to have which doesnt include me. Of your capacity to forget. Of your cowardice. Of your hypocrisy.

Old Monk and the Stars

Ok, so most guys think that they have the upper hand on drinking, smoking, smoking up and the rest. Well, maybe they do. But for fuck's sake, when a girl gets drunk, understand that its proabably because she wants to get drunk. Its not coincidence that she turned up for the party of the week after a fortnight of hibernaton. I swear, its not! And once she gets nice and wasted and something happens to get her on a bad trip, (like an idiot who calls at the wrong time) just sit and talk to her. Or let her talk. If she wants to cry, let her. Even if its about the stupidest thing in the world. And the last thing you should do is contradict her and make her feel like a fool. Cos she will cry more.

So yesterday was a mixed bag. I swear I just love the buzz of a cigarette. And since I smoke only when I am drunk, or getting there, I feel dizzy afterwards. But its all good. I learnt a lot about the people in my class yesterday. And did a lot of stupid things.
Drunken mistakes are so hard to come by in my lame life. I suppose I should make a note of this in my diary. Oh wait. that is exactly what this is.

On another note - the rest of the party thinks I am in loooove with someone else cos I spent a whole fifteen mins crying about 'why he doesnt like me?'. But the truth is - I just cant handle the fact that someone doesnt like me (when we have hardly interacted) and has no qualms about making it obvious.

Come on! Who can NOT like me? huh? I am just so adorable. Hmmpph.

A few things to say to myself.

(This is a rant.)
Why is it so hard to realize when you're depressed? When you sit at home watching movies even before they get downloaded completely, bunking classes, not even motivated to submit assignments on time, not talking to anyone about the things that're really bothering you, and when the restaurant phone-answerer knows your order and your voice, its high time to do something about it.
Why did you get involved in a play when you've forgotten how to act, love directing more and have the worst case of stage fear ever?
What made you think you were worthy of any attention ever from anyone?!?!?
Really! What were you thinking? How do you like to feel humiliated, rejected and like such a total failure as well as a loser of the first order? Serves you right. Never get your feelings into the picture. Ever. Havent you learnt your lesson?
Change your number. Dont call him. Dont pick up his calls. Dont fool yourself into thinking you dont know his number. You may not know the exact digits, but you know when its him.
Why don't you go get drunk? It might help. Its the beginning of the month. The 'I'm broke' excuse doesnt hold good, anymore.
Buy the god-forsaken charger, already!! Enough of begging from other people!!
What made you think you were worthy of any attention ever from anyone?!?!? And even if you were, a fling is not the solution. To anything.

Get Over It.
NOW.

"My name is Billa"

There are so many different people that one comes across on a single train journey in India. For every person who agrees to exchange seats, there is one who sits and stares at the breeze lifting and shifting clothes while their owners sleep. For every random offer to entertain a child there is a touch, a nudge or a shove. In short, the Indian train journey is just like life in general in India.
The minute I took out the laptop, there was a bevy of fascinated observers, who quickly lost interest when they saw that all I wanted to do was write. I smile at the graffiti on the wall “My name is Billa. I love my family.” Who doesn’t, really?
Thinking about my trip, I realize that all the things I went to do, I did. I wanted to shop, meet a certain someone, get distracted and finally leave something behind. This something started in Chennai, should have ended there, except I took it with me when I left. At least, I left it behind, this time.
After sleeping a couple of hours during the day, I’m worried about sleeping at all tonight – the berth seems to be filled with bedbugs and I’ve got sore spots all over. I don’t fit in the side berth anyway. Might as well sit through the night. I will reach Mangalore by five and Manipal by seven, at the latest.
A whiff of tobacco catches me by surprise. It reminds me of last night. It was not a great night – very average. I’ve gotten drunker at Manipal before, so it wasn’t special in that aspect. But it was the promise of a might-be that makes it unique. The beginning of an interesting could-be. The interesting start of a silly requited crush. The long overdue end of a great love. (Oh! What a drama queen am I!!!)
Enough said. Time for some Spider Solitaire.

Ma, I do care..

In Kerala, there is the system of the power cut. Although its pretty common, even today in the suburbs, it has been stopped of late, in the cities themselves. The past one week, however, because of some maintenance work, Cochin has been suffering from Power Cuts. They last half an hour and are generally in the evenings. The timings change weekly. Nomally when it happens, if its a big house, its a time of family time. The whole family goes out onto a balcony or the porch and makes all kinds of talk - both small and big. Walks and rambles are not at all uncommon.

Today I came home after a movie with friends and realized suddenly how much I missed my mother. Yes, I am with her, now. But I think I missed all those lost hostel years and suddenly all the coming times to be spent away from her just hit me hard. The relationship I have with my mother is very special. (Whose isn't?) She says that when I was a kid, I used to declare (and this isn't in anyway a reference to my previous post) that I would never get married and would stay with her forever. Nowadays my sister says that a lot.

Around 8.30 pm, when the electricty was cut, she lighted candles all around the kitchen for dinner. As I watched her, I felt very loved and content. So many times in hostel, I've lain wide awake in bed, when there is a blackout and the fan stops its rickety churning of the sultry air, watching the moonlight streaming in through the windows, wondering what the rest of the world is doing. And I always used to think that if I were next to my mother, we would have one of those deep conversations that I would almost completely forget all about until much later.

We havent had one of those conversations in a while now.

There have been assorted times in my life when I have yearned for a photograph or picture of her to make sure I didnt forget what she looked like because it felt like so long since I'd seen her. Those times, I used to look for her in other women - the way my teacher smiled with her eyes, the voice of one of my seniors at boarding, the hands of a sales lady, with well kept nails...

Those were times when I was not encouraged to think about her. Times when I was encouraged to avoid her. Then one day as I entered my hostel bathroom laughing with my friend, I saw my smile reflected in all the mirrors and stood shell shocked at what I saw. I looked so much like her, I smiled so much like her. I called her up that vacation, it was high time.

Now, I think of those strange times as a bad dream, I hardly remember. Much more clearer are the years when, like star-crossed lovers, we used to write each other letters and letters which she wanted me to throw away. I didnt, only for sneaky people to read them. But more than that, I remember these recent months when I have been able to be with her all day and all night (something which I never thought I will be able to do, ever), when I have fought with her, fought over her (with my sis), when I have hurt her, when we have laughed together, cooked together and giggled together like two schoolgirls on the way back home from eating ice cream.. And when I think of all these different times - almost eras, I can only think of how lucky I am to be with her now. She has taught me how to smile her smile again... :)

I love you, ma. I am sorry, for all the times I have been insensitive, hurtful, hateful, just plain stubborn, havent called, havent picked up your calls and forgotten to do things you counted on me to do.. I am thankful for all the times I have stood strong only because I knew you would be there for me, no matter what. And more than anything else, I am really sorry for hating you for however small a time I did - I should have known better.

I wish I didnt have to leave tomorrow, ma, but I do. Even if I dont call or sometimes forget to message or dont hear the phone ring, I am missing you, no matter what. And don't you ever doubt that.

Finally getting hitched doesnt seem so far away!!

Well, its all settled. I am going to get married.

Its going to be in that magical place – Goa. It will be in the most beautiful church there. The name of which, my fiancé knows. (No, I don't know. The wedding isn't until another year and a half anyway! ) It will be an evening wedding, with a party/reception later. Now, that will be on the beach. There will be slow-dancing music, moonlight (I will make sure it's a full moon night), the wind and the waves. I will be barefoot. I love walking barefoot on the sand. Oh, and it will be after my MS and after I ( hopefully) get a job there.

This time's New Year was in the middle of (actually just after) a cousin's wedding. A lot of my cousins were seeing me after a long time. There was the usual pulling of legs and how I am second or third next in line. I always responded with 'I will be eloping and thus, will be ( un/fortunately) unable to invite you'. They always laughed it off or said 'ya right, I am sure you'll get married next!'

Little do they know, I am only half kidding. Just a while back, I got secretly engaged. I didn't mean to keep it a secret. No one knew – I didn't find the right time to tell them.

For a while now, I have been yearning to get married – for no other reason than the unusually strong urge to have a baby. Sigh. I love babies. My fiancé is not that fond of them, but I promised him I wouldn't worry him too much with taking care of ours. I want to do it all by myself, anyway!!

So anyway, my fiancé is a big music person, so he's choosing all the songs for the wedding. He's Goan. So I can and will be wearing a dress! To me that is complete liberation! I know it seems like too early for me to get married, but really my mother was engaged at my age. But I haven't told anyone at home. Didn't feel the need to. I will introduce him to them after all the dust settles. But I will be meeting his parents soon – isn't that exciting?

So who am I getting married to? Well, with the amount of time I spend online, it is only half surprising, that the groom-to-be is someone whom I have never met. With the amount of emotional baggage and insecurities I carry, it is even less surprising that it will be only a facsimile of a marriage! You see, when I visited Goa, I loved the place and decided to work there ( after my MS, of course). So it only seemed sensible to tell the only Goan (half Goan?)I knew, that I wanted to live there, learn the language, delve into the culture, etc.. He said – 'easiest thing in the world' – marry a Goan. 'Marry me!', he said. Unsurprisingly ( for me!) I said yes. It will only be a marriage of convenience, of course. His one condition was that I shouldn't restrict his.. ahem.. comings and goings or people coming going in his house in another city! And also no nagging about his smoking, drinking, smoking up and/or possible shooting up. How could that matter to me? I don't love him, now, do I?!?!? Anyhow.. I retorted that it was a mutual thing.. Once we reached an agreement on that front, all was well.

So you see, we're going to be very happy. Wedding gifts will be welcome as both cash and/or kind. Email me for a pretentiously-worded letter of thanks along with the mailing address. Sorry I can't invite all of you innumerous readers for the wedding itself – its just close friends and family.

Note to Fiancé : Dear A.D's, this post is additional proof of your offer of marriage and the intense effect it has had on me. If you withdraw your offer ever, I am not joking when I say, you will have to pay me a considerable sum as breach-of-promise damages!

Almost.

And thus..
two years after I started blogging, 2 posts before I reach a 100, I think its safe to declare my blog - Dead. With a Capital D. Almost.
I missed an entire month. Again.
Dying. . .

I think its the heat. My skin's all dry - the Goa heat was unbearable. Yes. I went to IFFI. It was not that great. At least for me. I didnt get my pass until two days later. Talk about luck. Or not.
I dont want to talk about it. Or anything else.
And this is even true of real life. Now, I think I am dying. Fuck. What to do?

Btw, I wonder if you'll ever read this, El. If you do - Happy Birthday!!!

Do you have a blog, yet? No? Get one for yourself!!! or NOT!

so.
I know I havent been writing. Not for the lack of time or internet access. Both I have, in plenty.
Its more like I use the time and the net to download and watch movies.
:-D
There's a week long cultural fest happening in college.
"YeLL" is a club in my college. An ISO certified club in my ISO certified college.
fancy schmancy, eh?
You'd think that. But it isnt really. Yesterday's event proved that beyond doubt. When I think of the standard of my college in Chennai, I used to think it was not great when compared to the likes of IIT(M) and the like. Well, suffice to say, right now, I'd rather not even think of my old college's standards, let alone IIT's!! I thought I'd post a detailed version of the event - with the trash and the crap along with the moments of happiness.. But I'd rather not. It doesnt seem like the best thing to do. The power of blogs is much more than we think it is.
There's a photography workshop happening in college. You would think I'd have gone for it. But it ain't compulsory(for me) and heard it's not that good, either. So why give up free movies and go bore myself?
Among other things, there was a creative writing competition, last evening, as part of the week's events. And yours truly took part in it, as is expected. Last time I won a second place for a horror story. This time, I dont think there's a rat's chance in hell, of me winning. I tried to pull off a very bad Danielle Steel+Sydney Sheldon combo that is worse than all the chicklit+murder mysteries in the world! You can make that out, just from the title - 'Bubbles' . .!!!

Blogging is in shtyle, now. That has a negative effect on my capacity/inclination to blog.
sigh.

Its fucking HOT.

And I'm getting fried.

And the next one's up!

Of late, I've realized that, much like an accent or tone and pitch or choice of words, exaggeration is just another characteristic of speech. At least for me. Besides which I have the foot-in-the-mouth disease, so I dont really look around when I holler out some unspeakable thing or judge my listener's understanding. And this leads to a lot of.. uhm.. sticky situations. On the other hand, I also have found that I'm not alone in the club!

To all my loved oned and not-so-loved ones, I have been claiming that Manipal is a new lease of life and its here that I will be what I have always wanted to be, et al. But, of late (again!), I have come to see that more than a new lease of life, it merely, like any other new place , afforded me an oppurtunity to make a new first impression. In short, ladies, gentlemen, girls, boys and others, I am back to being my poor boring self.

As for the first impression, one half of my acquaintances here think of me as a rather loud, extremely desperate, crazy weirdo who really needs to take voice-training classes or get a vocal chord op, other than get a life. not to mention a change of wardrobe. The other half doesnt think of me. They already have lives. In spite of this and many other thoughts, a couple of them do actually look like they will become the stick-by-ers. Nothing's too sure at this point though.

And then the much more important academic aspect.. let's just say I'm glad I haven't become brain dead yet. Or sprained my index finger from too much of photo-taking.

When it comes to the living conditions, its worse than a jungle. One of the two toilets, for example, is very very unstable and just might overflow. I use the one in college for.. ahem.. emergencies. Safety-wise, however the jungle seems much more secure. Three robberies, three house breaking attempts, one roof-walking episode, and innumerable assaults later, all the girls have had enough. Nothing much has happened in the past few weeks, though.. Thankfully!

I have been doing a bit of photographing.. doesnt seem to have made much difference to my negligible skills.. tomorrow I will wake up at six, and walk to a place far far from where I am now. It is despicable to the lazy lump in me, and yet I am positive I will do it. Sigh.

Goodnight, world.

Just the beginning...

I HAVE changed.
I dont know if its a good thing.
Getting to know of people's nightmares helps in getting over them.
A lot.
I got asked out and stood up on the same day.
By different people.
I am happy here. But I havent forgotten the art of feeling alone in a crowd.
I don't have a glimpse of a chance of learning to dance.
Chennai is really hot.
But Manipal is hotter.
I am tired of giggling.
I really suck at fussball.
My laptop rocks.
Getting back online is bliss.
Blogging is not as fun as it used to be.

Dance, baby, Dance with me all night!!

Last night was one of the most fun nights in my life!!
I danced and danced and danced till I felt dizzy!!
I have not danced so much in my life.
A lil alcohol was used to lose my inhibitions and to soften stiff movements, but it still was me dancing so much. Definitely a nite to remember.
And the best part is - unlike every other time I've danced for fun, noone laughed at me. Noone stood to the side whispering and smirking.. cos everyone was busy dancing themselves!
I love Manipal! I feel like a whole new person.
Did I mention that I'm doing the whole 'new thing a day' thing? you know.. The one where you do something you've never done before - everyday?
The nite before the last, I went bowling. Before that I complimeted a person I didnt know(but secretly thought was hot) on his 'ethnic' clothes. Some other new things (and there is a very long list!) Directed a play. Acted as a super-villain(ness). Ate cheese maggi. Dressed up as Ugly Betty(although everyone said I didnt look ugly!). Wore a short skirt for the first time in ages. Went to a Marthoma Church. Made friends at the drop of a hat. Crushed on a guy whose last name I didnt know till later.

Woohoo Manipal!

Posted on August 20th

So the first day at Manipal is done.. So is the first meal, the first weekend and the first clubbing experience.. and how do I find it? O-kay. Why jus o-kay? Because its different.. and so much of the experiences here have been so foreign to me, that I have not been able to digest it and I think I need to take time to ingest all that has happened to me in the past few days.. I am glad that at least the classes are not so hectic and pressing ( at least until now) that I feel glad I didn’t go to symbi.. BUT when I look at my friends who have, I feel a lil upset – ‘are they learning more than me?’ they have 9-9 classes while I have only 9-5 classes with so many free hours in between.. plus a huge lunch break, tea break etc.. But I think the basic culture in Manipal is slow although not really steady – things are much too unstable for that. The placements are good, so I hope all will be well in the end.
Coming to the hostels, the cottage culture is very interesting, seven in a house with just two bathrooms makes for a lot interesting conversation and may I say that – the way someone leaves a bathroom after they’re done with it just says a lot about them.
I’m finally back in touch with the world – with newspapers and in the journalistic sense.. of course I miss the net terribly and blogging..and somehow mean to make do with typing on my generous roomie’s laptop and then posting it onto my blog.
Classes are interesting in that I had a huge classroom debate(almost a fight) with another girl on the very first day of coll.. Also everyone seems to have seen at least one other person who looks and talks just like me and it colors their opinions of me. Since one of them was a doper and perceived as (lets just say) not a very nice person, I am a little worried.
One very disappointing thing is the lack of crushable, drool-able material. You know, the kind of hot ha-ute guys you’d expect to see in an international standard university. Those kind of guys don’t seem to have fallen into my class even by chance! The only eye candy is on our way back from mess to quarters on the b-ball court. Really nothing can beat hot sweaty guys driving themselves voluntarily to the point of exertion..
The campus is very vast but still everyone walks to everywhere, and as long as you have company, I’ve found its fun. As a result I’ve lost noticeable weight in just four days! The mess food tastes good, but I am not sure I like it too much. The combination of heat and rain is much worse than the hot hotness of Chennai and the rainy wetness of Kerala.
Enough’s enough, the cribbing apart, Manipal became far more friendly to me yesterday when I discovered a positively adorable hostel library with chairs and newspapers apart from the ever-so-loved fiction section!!
One whole 550 paged novel later, I am as happy as an MIT-ian in a pub!

The Tag

A long lone overdue post.
The 8 random things tag. - from sthupit girl.
Rules:
1. List eight random - preferably wierd things about yourself
2. Tag 8 other people.
(I am not going to tag 8 other people cos very few people read my blog, now that its dead.)

Now..

a. I like to drink coffee.. normal - you think? Except I like it very cold. even on a cold rainy morning.

b. I like to play computer games like Diner Dash, Gish and Virtual Villagers. And I am not a hard core gamer - I just think these are fun.

c. My first word was 'kozhi' - thats 'chicken' in malayalam.

d. I am not into music that much. (I can already see all those mouths flying open) I just dont see what all the hype is about. Yes, I like songs and other varieties of noise made pleasurable to the ears. But I dont know the latest bands and singers and always have to think hard when people ask me 'what kind of music do you listen to?' even though I'll end up saying - 'music? not that much.'

e. I think my feet and hands are way way longer than I would have liked them. I dont care about the 'artistic' implications - it makes damn hard to find good shoes in my size. And its embarrassing for a girl when most of her guy friends can wear her floaters!! the long arms and legs I like - it makes for very little moving or strain to get stuff from that top-most ledge or from that place most people can only just touch.

f. I am secretly glad my parents are divorced - it makes for double the pocket money, double the-guilt-caused-pampering and double the security..

g. I broke my front tooth when I was 13. As a result I still dont know how to smile properly for photos.

h. I keep my watch fifteen minutes fast. Always.

Now for the tags..
MM (if you still read my blog), Vidhyuth, Kavya, Sush, Joe, Mukund, Arnold ( I know this one's not happening - but there's no one else who still blogs and hasnt been tagged yet!) and one random person who see this..

It scares me that I've run out of title ideas.

So many times there are moments when I feel how different my life would have been if certain incidents hadn’t happened. The ‘incidents’ vary every time. Most of the time I wish I had met somebody at a later or earlier point in my life. This time it’s a little different. I don’t claim to be a sanctimonious love-it-all, but never have I wished I’d not met a person. Even the most negative character in my life has been someone who at one point was a source of great joy and entertainment. This is the first time I wish I had never met someone.
And the worst part is, this person is not in the least the kind of person I would in, other circumstances, want to eschew from my life altogether. Its more a form of hopelessness, on my part. Like – ‘What’s the point of meeting this person?’
As seen from recent posts, certain relationships in my life have been time bombs waiting to self-destruct, except I wasn’t aware of impending explosion. And also seen from much less recent posts, I’ve also been prone to plenty of infatuations. None of them have lasted any length of time probably because I tire very easily. Most of them were very nice guys who, maybe given time or any hint of my emotions, would probably have made something happen. But.. there was no time and the ‘emotions’ disappeared very quickly.
I don’t know what the point of this post is. I just want to get some things off my chest.
Anyway one of those infatuations was a guy named K. He was so perfect. He played ball, he played the guitar, and he was tall, dark and handsome to boot! Anyway it was just an infatuation. And then voila, he asked me out! Maybe because it was the first time a guy took me to actual dates (before dates just constituted a walk in the playground), talked to me for hours on end (I had just got my phone!) and most of all – sang to me(for the first time, ever!), I fell hard. The fact that there were so many things about me that I didn’t have to explain because he knew all of it much before he asked me out, must have also figured high. None of it was conscious. Anyway it was not a very sensible relationship. I wasn’t mature enough to know he wasn’t mature enough. Familial disapproval, infidelity and insensitivity wrecked the shaky ship finally. I got over it, moved on, although I took a very long time. And now after almost two years, I find myself thinking about him very often. Still this is not the point.

At this point in my life when I have finished with one degree and moving onto the next, as clichéd as it sounds, I find myself at crossroads. There are not just two paths, but around four or five from which I have to choose. And I have just around a month to choose.

Oh, and as for the person I wish I’d never met? I think that’s the closest I will ever come to finding so much of myself in another person. And that’s why I wish I’d never had to face that. Because when I see myself reflected back in so much intensity – I realize what I could have been – in other circumstances.