Anger Management

Ok, high time I came here and ranted. Well, it's not ranting. It's just some anger management right now.

I'm being really patient these days. With everything. Yes, I don't really want everyone to understand it. In fact I don't expect anyone to understand or whatever. It's just that I feel if I kept repeating it to myself, I'd be good at it. Gosh, I can never get that thing out of my head. I have, for some reason, always told myself that I will become what I tell myself. If I told myself I'm being patient, I will be so. I need more convincing for myself than for others. Or maybe I can't convince others about how convinced I am because I can't convince myself. This doesn't help but prove only one thing- I CANNOT SELL.

So, back to anger management. It is particularly difficult when you aren't burning your lungs out. It's even more difficult when you can't call up your best friend(s) because your head's so swollen with fake ego. And listening to all your favorite sweet songs doesn't help in writing or as they say, channelizing your energy to create something profound, meaningful and deep.

So yes, I am angry. Pissed. Angry. Irritated. All of those things that I could otherwise blame on PMS, and which I could get away with if it was for less than 6 hours. But, never mind. Things are definitely not looking good, despite me listening to all the sweet/happy songs. Only I can lie to myself well enough and delude myself into anger or happy highs. And with all that anger channelization, all I've doing is setting a record for saving drafts (thank you google for autosave). So far the count is : 4 blog posts, 3 mails. All resting safely somewhere where they wouldn't hurt/harm/maim/injure/kill anyone. Or lead to the same aforementioned happening to me afterward.

With all of this, I've made a list of things one should not do when angry. Some are based on real experiences and some are things I assume would hold good in a hypothetical situation:

1) Do not email. Type it out. Don't hit "Send". Let gmail do the "draft autosaved" thingy for you.
2) Do not talk on the phone if you're home and are not sure if your parents are asleep. Your parents don't need to know you've improved your swearocabulary over the years.
3)Do not kick your CPU when you know your PC is recuperating from the crash it went through 3 weeks back. It wouldn't help to have no music, no e-books, no sitcoms, no movies, no xkcd, when you're fuming.
4) Do not go for a haircut. Just in case.
5) Do not watch movies where the protagonists look real cool stabbing themselves with needles in the first half and real sad-ass losers by the other half, and by which time you'd have probably given up on watching it.
6) Do not go down memory lane if you're angry in a combination- like angry and sad or angry and lonely or angry and whatever else. Remember- thinking about good old days when life sucked and you couldn't do anything about it would not help the days when life still sucks and you can do something about it but refuse to do so.
7) Do not drink too much coffee/alcohol/cola or eat too much of chips/spicy food/chocolate.
8) Do not keep precious objects within your reach. Do not keep them in the company of sharp/heavy/both objects.
9) Do not try those counting from 20 to 1 or saying the alphabet backwards kind of tricks. You'd only lose momentum in your angry tirade and miss an epiphany, if any.
10) Do not look for therapy from music-Listening to some chick singing about her boyfriend not understanding her or a crazed guy with laryngitis screaming about his skin bleeding and intestines boiling in bile won't help you. If anything, it will only make it worse. Go classical. Only instrumental. Listen to Beethoven, if anything. That is, if you have any of it or can be patient enough to download it.
11) Do not try that whole 'breathe deeply and break your ribs exercise". All you manage to do is create an atmospheric imbalance of some sorts around you. Not to mention, you feel more tired than before.
12) Do not get into the whole sweating it out drama. You decide to go loosen some fat and push all that anger through kick boxing or aerobics or whatever it is that you do in the name of exercise, and then you pull a hamstring, sprain an ankle or break your hip and get confined to bed rest thus earning yourself some more time to brood and work yourself into a frenzy.
13) Do not get angry at the beginning or middle of your weekend. Get into those furies just a day before getting back to work on a weekday. You can let it all out and only blame work. Or you'd get so mad with work, you'd sort of forget about the original anger situation.
14) And don't waste time blogging. And if you've done that already, don't let it go to waste by shoving it into "Drafts". And no, there are no funny scribbles, comics kinda things going with this one. Take it or leave it.
15) And lastly, if you are mildly sleepy, forget all the crap about not taking anger to bed. Just take it and go flat on it. Don't waste time thinking, blogging, reading, listening to music, watching stuff, talking etc. Just sleep. That's probably the best thing to do. Apart from burning your lungs and killing the germs inside with some well turned out ethanol. But, never mind.

How to get over Writer's Block.

We all suffer from this one. Well not all of us, only those of us who claim to be writers, or just write and when we are completely bamboozled as to what we can write that would amuse or mildly entertain us we transfer all the blame to this overused apology for lack of any creative brilliance called Writer's Block.

So what do we do to combat this illness?

Wake up and brush and take a shower. Turn off the TV and get off the couch. Get a pet guniea pig. Go walk the dog. Walk and get over the block.

Go green and stop eating for a day or two. Make resolution to write a page every day.

Go bungee jumping. Do aventure and extreme sports. Dabble in the occult. Learn fang-shui and tarot and crystal-ball reading.

Participate in a reality show or a talent hunt. Sign up to enter a secret military intelligence gathering agency.

Drink soup. Or liquor. Anything, just drink. Something's bound to get you worked up and if you remember what you did, probably you can just pen it down and it may turn out to be not that bad for a start.

If these don't work, watch a movie or read a book. You might get suddenly inspired and produce a imitation or a review or either disguised under the other.

In case you are worried you might get influenced, albeit subconsciously, by the perusal of such iterms, then just stare. Have a good look at the world around you. Stare at the ceiling fan and think about the cycle of life and its futilty ( Try keeping images of people hanging from the ceiling out of your mind here). Look outside the window, see how people rush about their daily lives and for once, get over yourself and try, try really hard to weave a story about those random strangers walking in front of you. If nothing fails to grab your attention, look harder and find someone really good looking and just stare. This may lead you to two things- you might just find your muse and a story henceforth or you might end up being reported to the cops on grounds of harrassment and hell, that might be some experience to write about!!

For those who seek inspiraton within, stare at your diary with a pen stuck in your mouth, fingers tapping to some tuneless rhythm while you are drooling on the page. You may go back a fifty odd pages and find something to read and wonder why in the world would you bother to write something so trivial in your diary, and that too in such detail. Then you'd come back again to the blank page st taring back at you. Here you might want to doodle and scribble and draw tiny hearts or smileys or stars or you might just sign your name again and again till you move on to another fresh page. Do a small recap and think of all that has happened to you in the recent past- would you want to put down your encounter with the dentist or your seventy seventh failed attempt to start gymming into words and seal them for posterity and private use? If you are a person with feelings and emotions and acknowledgement of the same, you might as well pour out all that you feel, wanted to feel or think you could have felt. You can garnish this with some help from your pocket dictionary and voila! you have a heart warming account of whatever monumental event that occured in your life.

But for those handicapped by the very prospect of having to use pen and paper for writing, well, boot up! Stare at your screen, with that cursor blinking on that white background and resist the urge to do the following things:
*Open other old files and just read them.
*Watch sitcoms ( Those addictive things are pure evil, but more about them later)
*Go online on pretext of using reference or online dictionary, because once you are there you might get tempted to do these :

- Look up stuff for reference and one thing leads to another and you end up reading Lindsay Lohan's latest blog post about new shoes.
- Chat up with the never-ending list of online friends and you go on talking about what flavour of ice cream you had for dinner last night.
- Visit Facebook and check out photo-albums and upload some more photos and this goes on for days!!!
- Dabble in the piracy debate with someone while downloading movies and music by the dozen.
- Just "surf" (rather cruise) the internet and amuse yourself into boredom.

So there, once you have been staring at the cursor for more than eight minutes, let your fingers dance away on the keyboard and just type. Practise typing if you may, just type. You are bound to form comprehensible words and meaningful sentences after a while.

Ok, these are the standard issue methods. For the ones ready to go that extra mile here's what to do.

Talk to friends, foes and strangers. Go to cafes and work the coffee and conversation formula. Just talk, and discuss and argue and talk some more. Share, listen, laugh, cry, give all the appropriate expressions with the aaah, hmmm, oooh, yeah? and chat up with people. Engage youself in a conversation with someone who speaks a language completely foreign. Act like a journalist, complete with notepad and pen, and interview people. Pretend and lie and become another person and talk. Talk to shady characters, to indifferent ones, to the bold and beautiful and allow yourself to be bothered enough to take an interest in their lives. Steal away their small glories and convert them into magnificient tales.

Fall in love. Fall, go all the way and mess yourself up. Go through all those feelings and emotions capable of mention in your all time favorite phil collins or lionel richie song. Listen to all those love songs, sit and day-dream under the sun. Abandon work and lie in bed all day, doing nothing. Talk for hours and smile a lot. Fight and cry, a lot. Sing and scream. Make up and make out. Forgive and forget and reminisce. Walk the bed of nails and tread the carpet of roses. Wait and let go. Possess and permit. Give away and take it back. Take away and return the favour. Wear red.

If you possess a full pocket to finance trips and expenses or passion for places, travel. Go exploring. Venture into uncharted territories. Board a bus, train or a flight, hitch-hike a ride, hop on to a boat, go to unmarked destinations. Visit the seven wonders of the world. Swim the deep waters and scale the great heights. Live in suitcases and tents, in student hostels or luxury hotels. In the name of cuisine, experiment with local delicacies. Do a hula dance. Fall sick with food poisoning. Get frost-bite. Try living in the desert with one single flask of water for five days. Go without a raincoat or umbrella where it never stops raining. Go to a sunny beach without sunscreen. Cycle across countries. Swim across the English Channel. Go Natgeo!

All these methods can be adopted in different permutations and combinations, as deemed fit by your inner wrting advisor. And if you find time from executing all these magic tircks, you can sit down and just write and get over that uninvited guest of a writer's block.

GOD SAVE THE QUEEN'S LANGUAGE!

OK THIS IS AFTER A LONG LONG TIME.
BUT WHAT'S WITH PEOPLE BEING ADAMANT ON FORGETTING THEIR BASIC GRAMMAR AND COMPLETELY SODOMISING THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE?
I AM ALL FOR MODIFYING IT A BIT TO LEND IT A LOCAL FLAVOUR AND THE LIKE.
BUT WHY THE BLATANT ABUSE OF THE LANGUAGE TO SUCH AN EXTENT THAT A SANE PERSON WITH A MODICUM OF LEARNING AND LIKING FOR THE LANGUAGE DOUBTS HIS OWN BASIC UNDERSTANDING OF THE LANGUAGE?
I DON'T ADHERE TO THE QUEEN'S ENGLISH. BUT SUCH RAMPANT CORRUPTION OF IT?
AND SOMEHOW THE WORST MISCREANTS ARE THOSE WHO SAY ENGLISH IS THEIR MOTHER TONGUE.
CAN WE START A CAMPAIGN ON PRESERVING THE SOMEWHAT DIMINISHING DIGNITY OF THE ENGLISH LANGUAGE??

THAT'S ALL FOR NOW.
I HAVE TO GO AND TRY MY BEST TO SAVE THE LANGUAGE.

The Last Resort-TAGS!

It seems impossible for me to keep my resolution of blogging everyday- which is obvious to NERs considering that my last post was a good 15 days back.
Since, I'm not really in a mood to whine and rant on about anything (being implicitly thrown out of my own room and listening to Jab We Met soundtrack doesnt really help matters) I'd go for this tag thingy - I really am not sure if its the right way..

1.Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it?
- There's on on my right foot. I've had it since I was 4 or 5. Used to love going on bicycle rides with someone ( LOSER ME- I still cant ride a cycle) cycling up and down. On one of these trips, fell asleep ( how for gods' sake I have no idea ) and some shit and happened and next thing i know is there's a wound and now there's a scar.

2. What does your phone look like?
- Bad. Really Bad. Its a Nokia 3200 or some other old crappy model like that. And now it looks worse for wear after I threw it just for fun (it never cracked before) and now its cover is all cracked up.

3. What is on the walls of your bedroom?
- Since am staying in an rented apartment in Pune now, and the house has got nice walls, the walls of my room are unadorned. Back home, the walls are a collage wall me and my bro created... part of it is visible in this pic.. bro's huge football fan..

4. What is your current desktop picture?
- It changes every 12 hours or so depending upon my mood, my mood and my mood.

5. Do you believe in gay marriage?
- Yeah, sure. Why not? What sort of troubles me is how do gay divorces work? The one who earns more from his day job pays the other alimony??

6. What do you want more than anything right now?
- to not be lonely and sitting here.

7. What time were you born?
- 2nd August 1988, 2.10 a.m

8. Are your parents still together?
- hmmm.. yes..

9. Last person who made you cry?
- the child actor from Taare Zameen Par. I cry in soppy movies. In real life I fear I possess an insensitive, stone cold heart.

10. What is your favorite perfume/cologne?
- err...but I don't use any much. I smell nice all day long :) On occasions.. Dunno.. Use whatever I have.. all of them smell nicer..

11. What kind of hair/eye color do you like in the opposite sex?
- Anything as long as they don't look as if they emerged out of a clown party..

12. What are you listening to?
- It was Counting Crows' "Big Yellow Taxi".. now its Robbie William's "She's the One".. after midnight my taste in music further deteriorates.

13. Do you get scared of the dark?
- only after reading, watching, thinking or talking about something scary...

14. Do you like pain killers?
- when they are helpful, yes. otherwise.. no.. they are not one of the ice cream flavors you like, you see.

15. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
- Yes, that too. Otherwise, I've never liked anyone that much to make an effort to ask them out and the other hazard is having a HUGE EGO.

16. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
- Choco chip cookies.

17. Who was the last person you made mad?
- List too long. To get down to specific would be my roomie and all those people with whom I talked in the past 18 hours.

18. Is anyone in love with you?
- No way. Why?

That's it. Too long a questionnaire man.. What I can't complain about tags???
Screw it. Tomorrow is my second meeting and lot of work on a holiday, I have all rights to crib.

Happy New Year(s)!

i don't think i stuck to my resolution of blogging regularly, reasons for which will be given in detail at some later point.
But i'm tryin real hard to keep my new year resolutions realistic and follow them:

1. Quit- Its time to get rid of those vices which arent really best for my health. i'm already on my way. stopped drinking- only beer now. and the other one, well believe me i have started reducing.
2. Wear a scarf while travelling in pune so as to protect myself from the harsh pollution and prevent asthama.
3. go to the gym and eat healthy. try to go to gym and try to eat healthy. at times at least.
4. thats about it.

gotta go, booze party on at home. im not drinking.

Back to Whining,

Ok, here I am again. Had been trying to delay this moment for as long as I could- writing that is. Changed my template for the nth time this month I guess. Reverted to my original template, though sadly I’ve lost all the links. That can be done sometime else though.

Following my resolution to write everyday, I think I’ll follow a pattern of sorts such that at least every blog of mine has one post per week. And maybe I should start sparing some attention to those blogs where in I’m listed but haven’t made any contribution ( especially the “Taking India Ahead” blog in which I’m really interested but have never managed to post anything). So I’ll be alternating between my blogs. Enough of my schedule.

I’ll stick to the nature of this blog- which is whining. Its less of a habit and more of a lifestyle now. All my friends know I’m an incurable whiner.

Few days back I’d submitted my article to the college newsletter. There I rant about how people have these misconceptions about us since we’re very actively involved in college activities et al. While writing it I remember I was whining as usual and tried to infuse as much humor as I could manage to come up with. But I was so shocked when I found the whole editorial team found it harsh. Why? These guys are like me, I wrote that article on behalf of these guys and they find it harsh, asking if I really feel all that antagonistic and how I should voice my feelings, opinions etc. And all I could think was- am I the only one? Or is everyone else too chickenshit? The worst part was all these guys went on stressing about me having a platform (the newsletter) to “voice my feelings” and didn’t seem to relate to or identify with what I had written at all.

Everyday I meet people who ask me if I’m attending class and pass comments irrespective of what I answer. Initially, it was a joke. But hell the joke has become such a pain now. I’m used to jokes. I’m short and I’m hyper-active/talkative. So people get lot of opportunities to make jokes. And I honestly don’t mind. At least I’m making some one smile and laugh. But these taunts regarding college work and being busy seems so mean. Its like God made me short, so the joke’s on God anyways. But here, its my work and life which is being made the butt of these gags. And when I make any comments, it’s a big deal and blasphemous to them.

And sometimes I feel bitter. At the work that I’m doing and at the people. Its partly my fault. I got so busy that I started drifting away from friends and others. When you work with somebody 24/7 you start hanging out with them and inevitably your timetable’s such that you spend all your free time with them. And then friends don’t appear very generous to accept you as you are. And that sometimes seems to be the worst part. If “friends” don’t understand, how can you expect others to understand? So, once you become part of an organizing team or fest or anything, people just seem to wander away or you seem to get alienated. And somehow, it all seems so sad. I remember after third sem finals got over and everyone was planning vacations with their friends and group and I was just hanging around, shuttling between office and PCell, wishing shallow goodbyes. College is definitely not what I’d thought it would be. No boyfriends and large group of friends. No gang of girls and boys. No fun- romantic life that movies depict.

But then its my choice. I chose to work and get involved in college activities. So might as well accept the consequences. But I never imagined the consequences would be so drastic. Its not all that bad either.

Hell, I just cant help complaining either ways.

An excess of phlegm perhaps

Let me just type. Let me just write. I do not know what will result from this exercise.

But I need to do it, nevertheless. I hate not being able to write. That was my only outlet.

I feel suffocated, strangled, drowned, tied up and restless without it. There’s this inexplicable tightness clutching at my heart and I have no clue why and how to deal with it. There are these moments when you are restless and nervous. As if you know there’s something miserable waiting to happen, just around the corner and you don’t know what to do when you are face to face with it. That is how I feel. Any given moment when I’m not busy doing nothing important. Its physiological, mental, psychological and a lot of other things. There’s no word for it, yet.

There are no dreams. My mind’s become barren. Imagination has become infertile.

Does growing old do that to you?

Those days, when you were bursting with innocence, hormones, feelings, wishes. Those musings, pouring of words and tears, smiling into space thinking about nothing and everything, and those escapades into unreality- where have they gone?

The artist inside has ceased existing. There was no space for life. It was crowded with ambitions, mundane aims, selfish needs and walls. Walls around my heart, soul, mind. Nothing comes in, nothing goes out. Forever locked. Frozen. Yet burning within me every moment.

This is so juvenile. Still, its necessary.

There is this canvas waiting to be filled. But it remains white. White is a color? Or there’s such darkness that its black, impenetrable. Even grey fails to come on it.

Is it just that my outlets have closed or do I have nothing to express?

Either ways, I feel un-alive.

The entire world is an illusion. Do I just tread through this illusion waiting for it to end on my death? Or do I live it out? I have to live it out. Breathe in the scents and dust. I want to feel pain and happiness. Immeasurable pain and indefinite happiness. And express it the way I want to.

Nothing is stopping me. But I find myself incapable.

Something within is dying. There is the optimist lying docile.

There’s so much I want to do, want to achieve. But they all seem meaningless now that I feel incapable of doing what I thought I was best at and loved to- to write.

Maybe its my fault- I am lazy. Despite that, I just feel incapable otherwise. Its as if I’ve become handicapped, lost my limbs or lungs or heart or just everything.

Being sad and hurt allowed me to vent it out and write. Pain helps. I tried, in vain.

I think its true. As they say, external wound and pain are superficial and its when the heart is bleeding with sorrow and grief and misery that you really suffer. The turmoil within is worse than the injuries on surface. But I don’t have either. I tried the latter- got my ears pierced again in an attempt to “feel” the pain. Needless to say, it didn’t help matters much.

Even loneliness is something that’s so detached. Yet so deeply entrenched into the psyche. I feel miserably lonely at times. That solitude doesn’t encourage any creativity.

I think I’ve run out of reasons, of miseries to put blame on for my incompetence.

Nothing seems to help.

And I resort to whining, which just tires you out and saps your creativity further.

Maybe I should just continue to write. Somewhere, sometime I’ll find a way out or a way in. I must force myself to write everyday. I have to let things affect me. See, hear, feel and experience. And express everything. Maybe that will help.

I have to keep trying. I must.

Its really a waste..

I'm sorry I'm here again to whine.
I have lost my creative skills. Whatever little i had.
I re- read my poems again and again. I don't think they are great works. But i have nothing else. I want to view my own work. And i see no improvement from the past to the present. People get better as they grow. I seem to be growing back into immaturity and un-creativity.
Where have i lost it?
or have i stopped feeling?
The Romanticism has died out. All that i see is jaundiced by cynicism.
All i find is that yes life sucks, and there's nothing that you can really do about it.
I see others going through intense feelings, highs and lows, and tangled love lives. And i mock it, find it juvenile.
Wasn't it good to be juvenile and pour out your feelings?
Something decent always turned up with those juvenile feelings and musings.
I used to be a dreamer. A hopeless one. All i did was dream, daydream, imagine and dream. And some more.
I don't do that anymore. And i don't like it, at all.
To dream, to feel, to ponder and brood and think and go through those phases where you just go on weaving dreams and thoughts into an intricate maze so that you're trapped in your own safe haven, shielded from reality- where is all that?
Escapism- thats the best opium.
Second Life does seem a very good idea indeed.
I miss poetry.
I miss words. And how i could find solace in them. In my own words. I didnt have to go looking for others' poison.
I need to go back.

Quicksilver

Its been too long since I’ve blogged, I know.
I don’t even remember when was my last post put up.
Sometime before exams, or rather a long time before exams I’m sure. Exams were a pathetic state of misery. First two papers we’re just not ready. Then for the next two, food poisoning came upon us and by the last two, we were too tired, dejected and hopeless, just wanting the goddamned exams to get over. After exams, for exactly 4 days I had the best fun in my life in a long long time. Me and two other friends- Bidi and Chetan- my family members think it was 5 of us ( us three plus I added Sanchari and Udrrek to the list guilty of going off to some god forsaken beach place without making much fuss about it)- had gone to Dive Agar beach, somewhere in Konkan for all that I know. Beach and booze and friends- what more could I ask for?? Though I didn’t really get on to sea fish the way my friends did ( maybe because I was still suffering from the after effects of food poisoning and nausea or maybe I realized that I just don’t like Sea fish!!) and daddy dearest caused a bit o’ worry in the end. I inform him of my trip with friends 2 days before I’m to leave and he’s like “ ok.. fine.. whatever” without asking me with whom I’m going and hence I don’t consider it to lie from the beginning. All throughout the days in preparation till I left he never bothered asking with whom I was going. Then on my 2nd day there, on the phone he asks me who I am with and I bluff. Then next day when I’m back in Pune, in the evening he calls and starts heavy interrogation causing me to freak out and make up silly fibs. I was thinking of ditching Placement Cell(PCell) work and heading home immediately the next day, but my Dad’s subsequent silence and refusal to speak with me was a sign that I should give some time to that bloody PCell and let things cool down at home. So for 3 days I work at PCell cursing every moment of the work and time spent there. I’d need to write an entire book of 100 pages to list the fallacies and idiotic inner workings of the PCell. Then one day before leaving I call home from the PCell phone ( sometimes you have to take advantage of College Facilities) and have a nice chat with my mom wherein she informs me of her decision to scold me in front of my dad regarding “too-much-freedom-that-we’ve-given-you” and that I should just stay quiet and play along. How nice can my mom be??? So cute :D.
Well now I'm home and we haven’t yet done our “scolding-listening” playact in too much detail- it was more like my mom seemed to be casually over interested about my trip and “friends”.
Now that I’m home I thought I would have time to think and write and blog and read and watch movies and hang out with friends and shop and paint and all that ( almost precisely in that order I think ) .And all I’ve done since coming back is eat a lot and sleep a lot while finishing off one blah novel ( its chick-lit by a male author for Christ’s sake!!) and watch Black Books Series ( become a huge fan now, thanks 2 Bidi) and a lot of movies and hang out simultaneously with my best friend Sandy ( a.k.a. Sandhya ).
Since I’m kinda clueless as to what I wanna write about now, I think I’ll ramble about Sandy. Well she’s gonna give her CAT this year and is freaked out about it and has sufficient reasons to be worried. She’s the only person who knows when I’m back home and is almost always around when I’m back. She likes movies and gets pretty excited to check out what movies I’ve got with me. So she checks out all the movies and goes on about which all movies she’s heard of and wants to watch. Then inevitably she comes over and says “ I’m in the mood for a nice romantic movie” / “ I feel like a nice romantic comedy” / “ Lets watch something romantic, its been long” which basically is about watching the same darned movies again and again and again. Your list comprises Notting Hill, Love Actually, When Harry Met Sally, A Walk to Remember (the most tiresome and crappiest of all) and now it extends to include Bend it Like Beckham and DDLJ (now that’s my fault I chose to get the CDs and save them to my hard disk). She made me watch Dhoom II twice (!!!!) as also dragged me to watch Laaga Chunari mein Daag despite the fact that we both had read its reviews and knew it would be a pathetically boring movie. :O
And now she’s got some weird hobby to put black nail paint on her toes and white paint on her finger nails. Why ? why would anyone in their sane mind do that?
She’s got some other weird habits too. One’s checking out the extras and their costumes in a typical bollywood song/ dance sequence. Stick to the leads for Christ’s sake!!! Then there’s asking about the heroine’s revealing costumes and wondering aloud how well they’ve hidden their lingerie. Every time I return home, she expects me to get her half a dozen pairs of oshos. And the like.
But then she’s a real good listener, i.e. she listens to me going blah blah and some more blah. She keeps treating me to pani-puri and other junk and good food. I guess I’ve grown to her omnipresence in my life, however gay as it may sound to my ears to go on gushing about my best friend.
And its definitely a good thing she’s not very active online and especially on blogger to give her views regarding my weird hobbies, habits, etc. Good thing that my dad's not tooo up to date with blogger shlogger shit.
And now I’m too buggered ( I’m fasting for ekadashi bcoz Sandy the holy cow told me to) to continue writing bull so I’ll just sod off and watch some movies, do I?

And I dont really know why the topic of this post reads Quicksilver. It means
changing unpredictably: tending to change rapidly and unpredictably.
Microsoft® Encarta® 2006. © 1993-2005 Microsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.
So maybe it says something about my mood.. or maybe its just a load of toadstools like the rest of this post.

Time-out for now.

Things happen too soon , too fast. It seems like God was in a big hurry to wrap this episode up. As it is we are a part of a giant endless sitcom directed by God Dearest. Just for laughs he makes us go through a rough patch and u can hear his laughter boom when you are down in the pits , all alone n miserable.
Right now, its just fatigue and over exhaustion. Being so lost, all the time is not good. There's this frenzy of thoughts in my head but they refuse to take form in words. Pointlessness has become the point of the matter. Meaninglessness provides meaning to this sad existence of ours when there's nothing that you can do except for playing through automated phases of life like androids. You work and think its worth something, something to keep you going. What do you take back- hours of you planning and organising and blah blah crap rather than hours spent doing nothing but having fun with friends??? Could it be because you have no 'friends' as such now? How far do you keep yourself and alienate yourself from your people who you know and who know you?
You keep looking for the light at the end of the tunnel. You reach the end and realise there's no opening at that end- it was god again playing jester shining a torch from the other end. You ultimately have to go back to those you left behind. And what if those you left behind are not there anymore? ( This is God's idea of character building learnt from bollywood)
There's this period in my life which seems to have been erased from my memory.. A gap i cant seem to fill.I cant recall where i was. Or mayb i can, except that it seems to be a movie running backwards too fast. It seems like sometime back i came back from home, then things started running through my hands. Elims n elims- this time on the other side, holding them for others Manzar International Debate, and some more debates. Then more elims- this time being the victim, going through an awful lot(Nirvikalpa- Marketing Assignment included selling Kabaddi to teh ultrarich and stress interview had me mono acting, dancing and telling a blonde joke). Then it was Christ College, Bangalore(Awesome experience to be recounted later in happy-er times) then back to Pune and Illuminare(critical analysis to be submitted at a later date), still so much work to do.. The day i decide to attend lectures, i come to know college is officially over and there are no more lectures being conducted, officially of course.
One of these professors couldnt help smiling at me when he saw me for the first time in his class. He was really nice to accept my Management Accounts assignments later(MA-in which im pitiable n the assignemnt in question was in the process of being copied when i had this urge and working net connection to compel me to leave it). Others havnt been that nice, so i've had to beg and plead them for extensions. Damned people do not understand that it is humanly not possible to sit in class and study and organise inter collegiate fests from withing the class!! MCQs comin up and im sure i'll b resorting to inky-pinky-ponky-father-had-a-donkey routine to get through them.
And then there's the best of all-Placement Cell ( an assortment of jesters selected through a stupid process from the college to help other clowns get placed in ''good companies'') My holidays are being cut short owing to placement cell work :(. Its so not Funny- I am Missing Home!!!!
I feel like i've forgotten something over here. Somewhere i seem to have lost track about what i was supposed to be blogging. Its ok, memory, time, availability of net and my laziness permitting i'll blog sometime soon about what i really wanted to blog.

Stupid Thought That Went Through My Brain Cells and Surpirsed the Shit Out of ME-
Can you let the light of stars lead you? or Do you have to fight the fates written by those stars??