If wishes were horses, I wish I could fly..

I think so frequently that other people live better, more interesting, consequently more fuller lives than I do. I see albums titled 'monkey truffle', profiles titled 'Blue apple in a bowl of moon-custard'. And then I think.. Sigh. Is it just me or do people just take random words and swirl them around in a bowl of water like paint?
I dont have anything against them, at all. I truly appreciate their inane, insane creativity. And then the pictures! Oh Lord!! The innumerable number of mad photos and each with their unique crazy caption. What happened to lame old cheesy smiles and corny poses anyway? And captions that start with 'L-R:' ?
I feel old and crusty. Like I am a generation older than all these cracked brains. And the worst part is I dont know whether to believe that these people with their weird pics, captions, profile names, etc are weird in real life as well.. Cos well most of these people are acquaintances or childhood friends who I hardly remember.

Do they yell and scream at restaurants with other people staring at their table cos of the loud dirty jokes and laughs? Did they take a sporadic trip on a train not knowing where their destination was but ended going to the zoo? Did they ever eat over 13 things in a chaat place for under 200 rupees and then spend the rest of the evening laughing at funny lingerie, high on food? Do they get so totally drunk that they lie down on the beach with the water and the sand passing over their faces (almost)? Do they put their entire torso out of a bus window just because its raining and they havent got rained on in a long time? Did they ever convince everyone that spring rolls were the only thing worth eating in the canteen and subsequently order fifty spring rolls just for their table? Do they giggle and dirty-talk and bite each other's arms just to prove to everyone else that they just might be in love even when they know they arent? Do they spend hours on a cool cloudy night talking about the universe or eating biriyani on the porch while its raining on their feet? Do they spend time and money on a stray puppy that has such a nasty festering wound on its ass that its tail almost falls off? Did they ever have to search the kitchen in the middle of the night for the refridgerator key that kept them ten cms away from a midnight snack? Do they cry like babies when they just arent allowed to get into the pool just because they're a lil drunk and its time to go? Or do they much much weirder things?

I have hardly any pictures of all the crazy moments in my life (both mine and my friends'- We were too busy doing those things than worrying abt getting a camera!!) But I sure wish I did.

That kissable corner!!

James McAvoy is so kissable. I want to have his babies. And he's got that perfect corner of the mouth you dont often see. Just look at it. So fucking tempting.

I should have been born in Scotland, named Annie Duff and been his co-star in Shameless.

Shit.

That horrid horrid man.

I dont know why I never watched the movie 'Bella' before. Its the kind of movie I would have loved to watch back when it came out. On the big screen. I thought it was a chick flick. But it isnt. It is so much more.
I'm just in my twenties. Then why do I hear that biological clock ticking so badly? Maybe its just that I need someone. Want a close relationship with someone who was all mine. Jeez. I shouldnt have kids. I'd probably turn out to be one of those psychotic parents who would never let anyone talk to their kids or let them out of the house, to 'protect them from the rest of the world'.
Talking of psychotic parents.. Josef Fritzl was/is the heights, isnt he? The man should be first castrated, his balls strung up on a kebab stick and then he should be put into an asylum.

Sigh. Enough with the abuse. I really need so many things at this point in my life.. and my career plans are going nowhere. I feel like I need a booster doze optimism. Help!

Rainy Nights and Smiling Eyes

The rain felt good as I opened the window. As I put my hand out and felt the drops fall, I felt as though I was dreaming. I hadn't felt this good in ages. You know? That dreamy feeling right at the centre of your heart when your throat goes all dry and you feel like as if you're floating and sinking at the same time? When you have butterflies in your stomach but they're a good sort, the sort that makes you want to close your eyes and enjoy the feeling. The feeling of his eyes on you and every action of yours. I smiled at the soft pitter patter of the raindrops on my hand. Everyone else must have thought I was mad. They had all closed their windows and were sitting tightly bound to their seats. I felt sorry for them. All of them. Even him. As I leaned back in my seat with my hand still out the window, I couldn't think of any other place I'd rather be than in this bus. The bus turned a corner and I stole a look at him from the corner of my eye and giggled when I saw he had opened his window too. And was looking outside like as if he had never seen rain before. God. He was cute.
How Iwished then I was inside a movie. 'Jab We Met' or 'Before Sunrise' or at least that I was born in the US and had no inhibitions or qualms about 'what people would think of me'. But most of all I just wished I had the guts to just go and talk to him without the innate all-pervading fear of rejection.
'Hey. The guy behind me was talking on his phone too loudly. I cant sit there another minute..'
'Hey, I've decided to make at least one new friend on every trip I make, this year. Can I sit here?'
'Hey. I'm bored. I know you are too. I saw you playing games on your phone. What if we have one of those long interesting conversations - the stuff of books and movies? Game?'
'Hey. You're cute. I like you. Wanna make phrendship with me?'

Jeez. I shuddered when I considered the desperate depths to which I have fallen. But he was oh. so. c. u. t. e. And we had not one moment but five separate eye-meets-eye magical moments. HE was never going to make a move. He was probably afraid of a slap. I wasn't afraid of a slap. I don't know what I was afraid of. It felt like all my muscles had frozen and the only ones that could move were on my face. I couldn't stop smiling!
And just as I finally summoned the guts to get up and plonk myself next to the empty seat next to him... Guess what happened? Some idiot of an uncle comes and sits himself down right there. Thank god I hadn't actually gotten up. The prospect of spending the rest of the night imagining conversations with a stranger who I was not ever likely to see again or speak to ever - Daunting.
But I did. Imagine, I mean.

And do you know what happened in the morning? When we reached our destination, he was still asleep. So I prodded him awake. And he said thank you. You would have thought I would have said something then. I didn't. I was in too much of a hurry to get out. Well? What do you expect? A twelve hour journey with no good bathrooms on the way and you expect me to linger and socialize? I needed to pee, for god's sakes!!! I left him looking around bewildered. I think he was looking for me.
Sigh. (and still smiling.)

Oh you cute, hot, large-handed, broad hunk of perfection.. I hope we bump into each other somewhere somehow. Then I can call it fate. And I WILL get your number, I promise... ;)

I havent acted in years. The last time I acted on stage must have been in seventh or eighth standard. Today I go on stage. Keep your fingers crossed, especially at 6.30 p.m.
I just hope I dont faint on stage.


Actually... I hope I dont freeze on stage. And that I remember my dialogue and dont do something absolutely stupid such as laugh out loud at the comedy in the play. Cos I do that a lot during practice.

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.