inked!??!

there is nothing. absolutely nothing to write about.

the world indeed is a very boring place. sigh. there is absolutely NOTHING happening... not even in the little world up in between my eyes. except for bright, bright, bright colours, there is nothing i see these days... not that i am interested much....


of news about my life, apart from turning into a complete tree-hugging hippie. i have no secrets to disclose of... apart from the incomplete tattoo...
i finally did muster enough courage to go get myself inked. and got myself stoned proper too, so that i don't endure the pain.
but alas! my paranoia took over my system and an hour or a little more later, i was left stranded with something that looks vaguely like a yin-yang symbol with a little box underneath the whack 69ish yin-yang outline... bang in the middle of my back!!! woe!! the incomplete deal... it is solely for that i was unable to wear a sharee this pujo (not that it mattered much) and it is solely for i make sure i am facing my mother ALL THE TIME...
i did ask her if i could get a tattoo... and she said "no" and by then, i was half inked already!! :| i am rather silly about matters like these.
the tattoo that looked so pretty on paper is a rather vague scratch on my back! funny thing is that i get reminders to get the tattoo completed, but something, seems to hold me back!
ok! fine! i still am paranoid for the feeling of needle pinching and piercing through your skin ain't the most comfortable thing to think about. fine, i didn't rally feel much till the very end of the inking session thanks to weed and the local anesthesia cream that was very liberally applied... but yes, i keep pushing the rest of the "ordeal" further and further away... hoping some miracle will happen and i will wake up with the tattoo completed on my back... no such thing happens though... sigh!!!

and yes, i completely trust ALL those who read this post, roll their eyes and say "only you are capable of this!" for it has been well more than a month that i have half a tattoo on my back!! :P

but yes my friends, i assure you that once i do manage to get this completed, i will get 2 more done!! :D

random.

i like being a wastrel... i really do!
its a brilliant way of life...lazing around without having anything to do, any deadlines to meet.. now that i sit at home, enjoying my extended holiday, i have quite made up my mind to quit my job. its getting rather... well... boring in ways more than one.

its been rather long since i last blogged.. i wonder what kept me from it for such a loong, looong time!
i jus guess i was too lazy to type out coherent sentences. i guess, i still am not that coherent enough...

perhaps cuz, i really don't have much to do... apart frm eat and sleep and pamper gin..who in turn has become quite the pretty spoilt brat... takes after me.. sigh. its so touching to see my child grow so rapidly!

but, there is indeed exciting news...
THE BEST FRIEND'S back in town! after months of separation, she is back, and so is DADEE so finally, we are all a very happy family, who can actually meet up and go out together and not utilize gtalk like possessed souls!

and now, i am rather bored again... i think i shall go sleep some.

p.s.- i love arjun rampal! i LOOOOOVVEEE arjun rampal.... liek mad! someone, off my lovely bloglist, will set us up... yes?

......

i saw "i'm not there" the other day. robbie broke my heart... he really did. in real... and now, even on reel. i don't blame him. the goodlooking bugger. i really don't. but somehow, the pain lingers and someday, maybe just some day, we all shall look back and smile. till then, i shall thank the internet that successfully hides my facial expressions and lets me type cheerful sentences. i love the veneer that modern day technology offers to me.
makes life easier...

three cheers to catoplasty!

its a weird situation...
life really isn't that bad for me, yet, it makes me tear my hair and scream in sheer frustration.


two partitions of my hard disk crashed night before last. i have lost 12 gb of movies. 12 gb of stuff including my favourite movies, awesome music and the first 7 seasons of south park. i will sue eset nod 32 anti-virus.
i will, with my bare hands kill, KILL those ridiculous asswipes who can't do a better job at programming anti-viruses!! GAH!

and gin is unwell... :( she is extremely unwell... the lill ball of fur stays curled up in one corner of my bed, battling a horrible virus that has attacked her stomach. fine, she is a stupid kitten who consumes copious amounts of leaves and pink flowers and then poops equally copious amounts of green poop and then collapses miserably on one end of the bed...
but my heart breaks to see her in such a condition. im used to the lill creature jumping and meowing and throwing royal tantrums... to give her so many medicines one after the otherand to see her takin em all faithfully with the saddest expression in her eyes. my heart breaks into a million bits.. and i refuse to go to college or work and spend very unproductive afternoons trying to spoil her even more..









sighh... the life of a cat.. i wonder why we don't have a choice to convert ourselves into cats after extensive surgeries... roy and i both agree, if no1 else, we shall promote catoplasty to high heavens! and this is an earnest call to all the lazybones around... those who like being pampered and being showered with affection... please join together and demand the invention of catoplasty... as far as i am concerned... it is the path that leads to world peace, moksha, nirvana, et al.


aaaand i have a new job. as a pr personnel. it's pretty much a "smile and wave" routine! of course, what else could i expect out of pr.
remind me, why exactly did i take this up?

ginnnnn

i have a new kitten!!!

thanks to nandini... i have a new kitten!

she is not only a beautiful creature, but incredibly well mannered too!
off all the cats i have and have ever had... she is the only one who doesn't fuss much about taking medicines. they taste really awful, but still, the sweetheart she is, doesn't fuss or scratch!
she drinks water with pleasure as well... and is perfectly potty trained too!! :-D

p.s.- she has been christened gin

and age piled on

i turned 22 yesterday.
i don't feel any different. apart from massively depressed, i can't feel much at this point of time.
fine, i overdid it with the revelry tonight. fine i paid a bit too much of heed to my ego tonight. but that doesn't justify me being such a glutton for punishment. over and over again.

for some1, who has had a pretty great birthday week, i feel disgusted. with myself, more than anyone else. i really should learn... i really should. from the past wounds and scars and scratches.

but the idiot i am, i keep confusing myself with some exotic phoenix. "rising from the ashes in full bloom" and blah. it doesn't happen. if i had been a slightly more positive person, i it might have worked. the histrionic pleasures might have offered to me some bit of solace. it really doesn't as i clearly am that girl who lives her past... every living moment. its depressive. i think i am a maniacal depression junkie. far removed from what people think of me. i love my shiny happy fits of rage. and i love making myself go through those very processes over and over again.

ha ha ha.

aren't we all trapped behind a mask? sometimes, i think i need to be locked up... and away. in some gloomy whitewashed asylum cell. the only thing that can save me from my mind manipulating me into doing things that somehow end up being wrong. inevitably.

its funny. funnier that the funniest trip i've ever ha. funnier than the flying pig song. funnier than cartman.

this is in no way a vendetta against my friends. they are lovely people. trying to make my world a slightly happier one. they succeed. maybe, they don't. but thats just because i'm such a depression junkie. its worse than bulemia. i love it.

masochist i am.

and guilty too. i shouldn't be.... doing quite a number of things that i am doing now... i've done over the past few days... keep doing over and over again.

momentarily, i was happy. without south park. without weed. without narnia. without excuses.

it was my birthday. i loved the gifts and the booze and the surprises and the cake.

i shall not go out of my way to be mean. but i am back to feeling like the grumbly old lady i usually feel like. maniac. i. i should be 88. not less. thats the only age that justifies my sober state of mind. alone. over gtalk. in my room. far away from prying eyes.

i'm using way to many full-stops. cuz, i know that this is another full-on rant, trying to make me feel better. it is. and its foolish. funny. freaky. frumpy. i alliterated. yay. i should be proud.

my birthday has vanished in a nonmagical poof of dust ball.

i feel lame. lameass.

i shoudn't be shedding tears. not now. i shouldn't be the depression junkie.




soooooo, owing to a completely freaky change in mood, i decide that i am 16. yes. 16. not more, not less. i act like one. a complete idiot. its better. not thinking. being in the perpetual state of mindlessness that i had managed to trap myself into. it was fun. i was fun. i shouldn't allow people to urge/inspire/force me to think. it does terrible things to my ming. for i, am a regular depression junkie.

i have had it. i'm off to cower in a friendly corner and get my mind back in order. i hope, i shall be back soon. i know i shan't delete this blog. but i hope, i get enough affection to come back and write mindlessly amusing rants. not mindfucking ones. especially if they r fucking my mind so bad while i keep fingering the darned keyboard.

screw you guys (yes, if you think u r them, then u r them. i shan't bother explaining who that was for. not now. not ever.). i'm going home. (for a few days)

the world, as we know it... is actually an incredibly nice place... where out of the blue, nice things keeps happening, to people i know!
and for once, i really don't feel grumpy about nice things not happening to me or the like.
i feel tremendously elated as i keep od-ing on all the sweet things in life!

sighhh!!!

shoi

shoi left. for pune. technically, she is still in town, perhaps, at howrah station, waiting for the train to budge and journey towards maharashtra, but, she still is far, from the peach walls, the reddish floors, the blue loo and the friendly banter.

i never thought i would miss her such a lot. not already at least.
its crazy, the way, every little conversation seems to be coming back to me... from class 6 onwards, when we sat next to each other for the first time... she was the pen eating cat... and me the book-eater.. childish wiles thes, and yet, i long to go back, and sit in the very last row, which comprised of those four rickety chairs and desks and giggle while some lame ass teacher taught n class.

its strange... growing up with some-one and then one fin day seeing her one last time before she boards the train for some godforsakencity!

i am not insecure... never for a moment do i feel that she will never call me up or ignore my calls, for i know, wherever we are, we shall be in touch... she had herself told me so while leaving school... and i trust those words. more than a lot of things, people and incidents.






i love shoi. it's slightly late for the realization. i love her. in a strictly non-lesbian way. i love her for all that she has confided in me, for all the wonderful times she has shared with me, for all the times she was there, rock steady and dominating, fishing me out of trouble and even threatening me with dire consequences in order to keep me safe. i love her, for helping me, through thick and thin, sticking by, even when i have been displaying my most difficult behaviour. for years and years, even at her most irritating best, she has been that happy spot in my life which has never let me down.

and finally, i love her, for all the times she has satiated my insatiable appetite when stoned. and i love her, for making me feel like a nice person, even when i have been a really mean pig!

i shall be lonely, tremendously, when i shall b sitting alone in my room, on a random summer afternoon, smoking up. for it was only a few months back that she sat there, with me and smoked and laughed. i shall be lonely when i go to salt lake, for it has been there, that i have spent a great part of the past three years, in and out of loos, in a varying states of stoned delirium, paranoia, hysteria and starvation!

i shall miss her, while making random plans with friends and colleagues. and i shall miss her every time i take a puff of the spliff...

i am selfish, incredibly, and keep hoping that by some stroke of miracle, she comes back... and stays here for good.

i know, such is not about to happen... for the next two years at least... till then, i shall see her ever so seldom, once in every four months and then bug her on various networking sites, till she comes back for yet another vacation.

thus, till november/december/whenever she comes back... she will be much missed.

thus the rant ran...

i think i've had it... most of it actually.
i spend my days, like a wastrel, with nothing to do, apart from smokin pot and reading. its not good fun. when all you do is smoke pot and read.
i know, i should go out, soak up the bright brilliant cruel sun and let myself enjoy the evils summer has to offer us. but, sanity prevents me from going ahead. i much rather nurture the glutton in me, and see myself add layer after layer of fat on my body. sigh.


the past week has been a flurry of events... i went out with a beautiful creature, had lovely times, the two of us.. and even married her on facebook. on that front, life has been blissful. otherwise, i..
well... it isn't everyday that the friendly neighbourhood metro ticket guy cons you and sells you cheaper tickets and you are hauled up to a small dingy office, full of men in blue and are forced to shell out the "fine", which they reduce by half, as they take "pity" on two rather horrified young women, stuttering and stammering!! it is exactly at those times, that i thank the press and the power that it possesses! and i also thank god for letting me and divi have functional brains that allow us to come up with fictitious names and addresses in a jiffy! exciting it maybe, but for a weak heart like mine, it was rather... well... traumatising!


i think i need a holiday...

moreover, i am rather tired with the people i have to deal with on a very regular basis.. one minute they are dissing at me in public forums and in the next, they urge me to help them solve their trauma inducing problems. such hypocrisy, is not needed... at least, i can do without the bit of histrionics in my very mundane and regular life.

i want south park, with all its characters to exist in full glory. i need to go there and return to my childhood and hang out with cartman. how a child, can be such a genius is beyond my belief... and reasoning. his evilness is a by-product of pure genius, and his love for cats, a commendable act! how much i love cartman, i cannot explain in words... it's a terribly difficult thing to do... expressing my affections for what i had been... and happily still am.

oh the joys of being evil... the joys of laughing at some1's face and hating them since they belong to a completely different community. good fun... that is.

the first cartman episode actually did bring an immense amount of warm, glorious joy in my life... to know that somewhere, exists a mind, as intolerant and as gluttonous as i am.. or at least, a mind, warped enough to come up with cartman.. it's a relief!

and that reminds me, on the fateful day of the metro disaster, i discovered a few important facts of life...
in conversation with diviani, i got to know how rich old sheiks offer to buy the young pretty uns for a lot of money... which actually got me thinking... these sheiks are really old, and erections are bound to be rare... and yet they invest in these beautiful uns... and i came to the conclusion...
that they indeed invest in order to get themselves some super-pervie fun at the super-pervie parties they go to with their camels, dogs and snakes... a creepy thought and marquis de sade would have been proud of my thought process, but it is indeed a logical one... i am sure.

and then there is sex... when you get it, it's not really much thought about... but when you don't, you realize what you have been deprived of...

and travelling on to a completely different thought process, i shall now proudly declare that i, solo, have decided to quit smoking cigarettes. it is a rather boring habit... and with the inflation... corners do indeed need to be cut... especially if you fall in the large bracket of semi employed individuals, who hang their hopes on to unethical organizations, who refuse to pay them on time, and then blame them for not being serious about the work the minute the very first trace of irresponsibility is noticed. bitches, these men and women are, who exploit helpless youngsters in such manners. they should rot in hell and wake up next to saddam hussain there every morning.

thus, apart from the potty smoke (which cannot go... EVER), all things stuffed with tobacco is forsaken... this moment onwards.

DISCLAIMER

for those who haven't yet...
you MUST absolutely watch AUGUST RUSH.
beg, borrow, steal, download.... do whatever... but watch.

and since i am still facing a sever case of writer's block.. i shall myself and wait, for the trauma to pass... and for me to get back to my old "garrulous" self

a day in the life...

so i thought it would be fun... i mean, seriously, who ever gave much thought about what the teachers had t o do... ever. so i agreed, to fill in for a nice lill lady, at south point high school and teach.
and i tried, even though, i was to take 5 classes a day, 45 minutes each, clad in a saree.
it was fine, it was, really. till i stepped into class.
i am the class teacher of class VII e. its a shame. for them, and me too. they all end up standing outside the class and i end up fanning myself to boredom within. they r nice, as long as they stay out.
i love the way the respect my authoritah (gooo eric cartman!) esp when i kick em outta class, or when i write lovely notes to their parents! what sadistic ecstasy! what fun!!

then there is class VI, rather bovine. its so amusing to realize how amusing the entire concept of fearing the loss of housemarks is for those lill runts! its a lill depressive to realize that house marks mean more to them than irritating the teacher. that way, they dun lose housemarks. and i stay sad.

class VIII, i wonder, why young boys choose to write me poems. in no way am i pedophile. i am human and straight and numerous hindi songs in the corridors do not melt me. it scares me, it does and i despise those idiots.

how strange it is to finally know what lies beyond those hallowed walls. so, south point is the school that churns out those brilliant board toppers. hah.
with 85 students in each section and almost 8 sections per class, some are bound to be good. u know, those dictionary gulping, obsessively blinking types. you know, the ones you never paid attention to, cuz they read the dictionary for fun. yea, those... and they do top, while the rest, flail around miserably in a vast ocean of school paraphernalia, trying to string together a sentence in english that sounds remotely sane or proper. sigh.
what a school we have there, ladies and gentlemen!

and the experience?
nothing short of traumatizing!
if i thought the kiddie birthday party was scary, this sure is hell.
its worse actually, its south point high school.

and now that i am sufficiently stoned, i shall forget about the past day at the hellish school and try to convince people to watch sarkar raj.
i suffered, everyone else must as well.

other bits and pieces.

yet another "blogmeet" happened. over beers, vodka, finger chips and (suggestive) chicken ala kiev.
i guess, following the meet, DEE, will perhaps keep safe distance from both me and onnesha, especially if we are let lose together.
its amusing to notice, how tragic life can get, to people, who remind me terribly of vulnerable cute bunnies, that is!
how "sexy naughty beechi" it is, eh? life i mean :P

aaaaaaaand moving on to a slightly saner attempt at a post, onnesha n i spent a rather long time, bonding, (thanks to dee) and it was a lot of fun.
after loitering around park hotel for an hour, we indeed discovered sights and sounds that i am sure, no1 has, so far!

but in order to know, you must pay onnesha and me 10 rs each, for every time we spill the beans, or else, it remains rather pointless. the beauty, grandeur and yet the quaint loveliness of the sight deserves much appreciation!
and since no1 else might have the brainwave to rediscover the idyllic location, we might as well be paid...

the sight apart, we also realized that perhaps, just perhaps the park hotel loos have rather well concealed surveillance cameras. tempted we were to whack the lovely napkins and also the lovely yellow lights that made even our lill "freckles" look pretty, we refrained from indulging in such acts! moreover, we also apologized, looking directly into the cameras, making our very best sad faces, for even discussing theft plans.
the park hotel people are not heartless. we were forgiven. who could resist our sad cute faces hmmm?

i think, i have smoked up enough and rambled on enough about a situation that has now managed to confuse me as well.

bbbbuuuuuuuutttttttt, all in all, it was a fun day!
with fun people, who, surprisingly are real nice too!
one of the best times i have had, in quite a while now!

kill the barbie, save the child!

i hate kids. i despise those little 8 yr olds and their birthday parties. terribly.
i spent the better half of last evening trying to sit through my cousin's eighth birthday. and by the end of it, i seriously wanted to run for dear life!!!

it started fine, till yet another nameless, scary 7 yr old, spilled her pepsi on her rather ugly, pink and white barbie dress, and then decided to start howling. followed by the birthday girl, who had to burst into tears cuz of course, tht former irritating child had started the game, and of course, it was her birthday, and attention had shifted to whiney pepsi spiller. and that of course, was a criminal offense. then 5 yr old lill child decided to join in the tear shedding ceremony... why? well, wen asked, she very promptly replied, "cuz every1 else is crying!"

then came the magician and the clown and the malnutritioned rabbit and the pigeon with the broken neck. straight out of a cheap gore flick. and the kids, of course hated it. one 9 yr old, was brave enough to throw crumpled balls of tissue at the magician, after which a tissue fight, of gigantic proportions erupted, and whiny pepsi spiller, was ready to spill tears again.
then the clown was tripped, and the rabbit was almost strangled and the cake attacked. small fists, diving into the disgusting pin cream was a happy sight, perhaps, because it meant i wudnt have to eat it anymore. but of course, it wasn't good news for the walls or my poor aunt.

then came the barbie fight game, basically, a lame ass game, where the kids started telling tall tales about their barbies, trying to prove to the small small world, "my barbie bestest!" and of course the tales, were far from entertaining. i mean, the entire thought of a barbie helping you pack your school bag is scary, not to mention the other scary kinds who tie braids for unsuspecting souls, and bake pink muffins and of course, the kind which helps paint stars on the ceiling of the room. and it continued, and so did the horrifying shrieks and the tears at the cake throwing and the pepsi spilling and the hair pulling and the falling down and then more whines and then the passing the pillow game and then the miniature food fight.

by the time those things had left, i was the most perfect nervous wreck. i was not only traumatized, i also spend the next to hours watching saw, trying to cleanse my mind, soul, et all. yes, indeed, saw was more comforting than those pink clad creatures!!!

yesterday, i perhaps understood why people commit suicide. i was on the verge of killing myself. but i don't really suppose me killing myself would have affected the little horrors. they would've come up with "suicide bomber barbie" and "serial killer barbie" and perhaps even "dead and decaying barbie" soon enough! so much for respecting the dead.

i hate barbies. more than those vile things, i hate wonderfully pink birthday eighth birthday parties!

loita!?!?!

this is an extremely badly clicked photograph, bt the content ws too hilarious to be missed, and with the shopkeeper glaring at me, this was the best i could manage!

i found this awesome sight, adorning a dusty corner of a teeny tiny book shop on college street. i possibly might have been allowed to take a better pic, had i not spent 20 mins abusing the poor shop owner for not knowing who j.r.r. tolkien is! :P

aaaand, you all see miss paris hilton adorning the cover of a bengali book, and those, who can't read bengali, lemme translate the title for you... "LOLITA".

exam trauma

now that the foot is better, the brain seems to be in for a really bumpy ride!

with time, my ability to study, has completely withered away. till the last semester, out of fear, or respect, i bothered to peek into my books 24 hours in advance... i knew the syllabus too, and i though about the outcome... its a different story altogether that i went fr an exam stoned... bt what matters is, that i cared.

this time, i can't even seem to find the ratty piece of piece of paper where i had scribbled the syllabus down. now that i think about it, the last time i used something that remotely resembled that piece of paper, was to wrap up a mutialated, overchewed piece of gum and throw it out of the window!

i wonder, if i'm in a bit of a sticky situation now.

looks like my sense of humour's gone for a vacation as well.
which reminds me, what i wouldn't give to be sippin a pina colada on some nice shaded beach... lazing around and enjoying the sand and the surf!

daydreams apart, i think i need to locate that ratty piece of paper or else call someone else and get the syllabus yet again.

sad, sad it is... the bloody exam season!

scarlett keeling, what happened?

considering, all the hype that the media created about the unfortunate 15 year old... i wonder, what is happening now?

fiona mackeown, is finally satisfied with the imprisonment of only placido carvalho and samson d'souza? what happened to her screaming herself hoarse about the involvement of influential individuals?

and what is with the issuing of the "look out circular" for michael mannion, that prevents him from leaving the country? (for those who don't know who he is, he is a witness in the case)

and, what actually, has happened to carvalho and d'souza? are they in prison, have they been hanged, are they being tortured?

i can't understand what's wrong with the leading english dailies of the city of joy... don't us readers deserve updates about such things? what was the point, of creating such a hue and cry, when it was known that nothing would be done?

and, i guess, the verdict remains, that while, the indian government is trying to clean up the murkiness that now looms large over anjuna village, goa, this unfortunate incident too, gathers dust, like all the other rape cases that remain undealt with so far.

i wonder, what india's aversion is towards solving rape cases... its not very difficult. while the afghanis deal with the culprits the best, other nations too, take a stand. but what in india?
no-one, is being urged to hack off a penis yet, bt justice, should not be denied. (though, i, firmly believe rapists should be killed in the most painful way possible. i actually support the hacking off of penises. it should be implemented in india too... maybe then people will finally learn.)

in my 21 years of existence, the only rape case that saw a ray of justice, was perhaps the dhanonjoy case. bt then again, their were protestors, who fought for his rights, thinking so little about the little dead girl...

and what happens to the five odd rape stories that make it to the bloody newspapers everyday? are they taken care of? are they forgotten?

and, if the reader should know what happened, shouldn't she know the outcome too? bt then again, why blame the newspapers, with so mant rapes happening at ever nook and cranny of the country, its hard for them to keep track.

but, the scarlett keeling case disappoints me. i had hoped that we would know about the proceedings, without forgetting who she is... till of course the fateful day the rapists are either freed or killed... thats the least newspapers can do, respect the dead...

after working for eight months with a tabloid, i have decided. tabloids are a far better deal than the main paper. we publish what is outrageous. we don't attempt to make a sad incident outrageous to get readers. we are happy talking about nail polish and hair dye and dog food. and its not unjustified. what is, unjustified, are those pages, which evoke sentiments in a reader, and then leave them feeling like a gullible voyeur. unable to help, or even know further than allowed to...

i don't regret my decision of not reading newspapers anymore. i rather read the next mindless interview upen patel gives about the semi pornographic pics of him and deepika padukone. they allow me a good night's sleep.

love? chapter 3

and they lived...


hating each other, through a torrent of emotions randomly plaguing their hearts, making them utter profanities.
hating each other and making lives miserable in manners of the perfect sadist and the perfect masochist.
hating each other, for the guts that are put on display, and the guts they long to wrench out of each other's system.
hating each other and hoping for a whiff of fresh air.
hating each other, with a vengeance.


and they lived...


just cuz they had to.

love? chapter 2

forgive me for my past harsh post.

varun doesn't deserve the back biting. pain is inevitable.
neruda, eloquently sums up his saddest lines... and i whine... perhaos, there is beauty in pain. perhaps tears do make you see better... and perhaps, i, unlike the great poet fail to realize...

four years has been a long time, building a relationship on fantasies, on my part has been wrong... tonight, when i see it all fall apart, i have no1 to blame, but myself. relationships are a two way deal... dreams need to be reciprocated and understood... and i did not realise that, till now.

i'm trying to rebuild, with whatever i can salvage from the debris that remains from the past four years... good knows how many more months till i begin believing in love again... how many months, till i am able to look into his eyes and feel- something, anything... but, like i said, i'm a survivor, i'll survive...

yes, i shall be robbed of a few dreams, and what i though was the past shall haunt me... but i guess "fresh starts" are again limited merely to movies. even through the tears, i wish i could forget him somehow, and start afresh, in the true sense... love each expression on his face, enjoy the warmth of his body, without having pangs of pain shoot through my heart...

to err is human, they say, and we, as individuals have "erred" more than what can be counted. and each memory, remains fresh, with the pain that comes with it... i would like my memory to be rased, so i don't remember the past and then, i would love to meet him once more, at 6 in the morning, at howrah station, and take all back to the start. what i would not give for it...

love? (edited on 17.04.08)

all those, who have, like me, spent the greater part of their life, believing in the wonderful miracles of love and sniffling as movies like "shrek II" or "love actually" or "juno" draws to an end...

...should go jump off the nearest cliff.


love doesn't exist. movies fill your head with a lot of bullcrap that eventually leaves you in a world completely messed up.

have you ever seen a "harry met sally" or "you've got mail" or "shrek" or any other godforsaken sickeningly sweet romance shaping up in reality?

what about the cutest couple in your college/school/locality/blah? how cute are they a year into a relationship?

and, how come, movies, never warn anyone about what happens next? cuz, there are no such things as "happy endings",.

even the "happily ever afters" are a dreary routine, a sham that survives solely, for the sake of surviving, for love starved readers of the world, who tend to get more solace in books and movies than reality.

my advice: stop watching/ reading. you'll have a lot more peace of mind. you all deserve it!


p.s.- i shall kill all of you who ever told me that the significant v n i make the perfect couple... VERY painfully!

p.p.s.- and those who though we wouldn't survive, you are mistaken too.. its painful, but hell, i'm a helluva survivor!


p.p.p.s- excerpt from conversation:

me: heyyyyy!!

varun: hi

me: how was the day?

varun: okay

me: what didja do?

varun: i woke up at 5

me: and?

varun: nothin. what about u?

me: nothin much... had to sit fr 2 tests.

varun: ok, how were they?

me: ok... hopefully.

varun: so?

me: umm nothin.. so wassup?

varun: nothin

me: so?

varun: temme

me: nothin much.

varun: so?

me: so, we r back to the "so" game i see

varun: isn't it fun?



and we are a fuckin couple? i have to tolerate this every single day! and i seriously need to know, WHAT couples talk about, apart from the "so" game that is!

sunday, bloody sunday!

i am obese.
positively.
i hadn't realised the dangers of sitting at home, munching on chocolates and the like for the past eight weeks. but now, i have attained the impossible. i cannot fit into clothes and nothing apart from shapeless sack like garments seem to help.
plus, i'm sure i'm suffering from some unique eating disorder... the kind that makes me crave for food 24x7! its rather amusing that now all my life is about is food, food and more food.
i crave food even when i sleep... nightmares and sweet dreams both feature, well, food on a regular basis now.
happiness and sadness is also related to food, sometimes even directly proportional...
foodie i always was, but this new obsession is far from comforting...

i'm sad.


plus, its a sunday.


in the last eight weeks that i have been under house arrest, i have grown to detest sundays. they very animatedly bring out the "psycho stalker on the run" in me.
as i huddle from one room to another, trying to sneak some nicotine in my system, i feel outraged. with shanti di, grandmom and mum finding their ways into the darkest of corners, where i seek refuge, with their noses crinkled and eyes accusing, i have realised my ability to be an amazing one legged gymnast. for eight weeks now, i have perched myself, precariously (considering the fact i have a broken foot) on window sills, balcony ledges and the like, trying to keep away from them the telltale smoke and even the "faintest" smell. their ability to detect smoke somehow gets stronger on sundays, like some sort of sadistic weekend superpower... its very unnerving. not being able to enjoy a satisfactory puff on a sunday is very, very, verrry unnerving... at the age of 21, if you can't be trusted with your decisions and vices on a sunday, its definitely sad.

so amidst of all the depression, i smell biriyani cooking (love our new cook!! :D)


and i shall be off and enjoy my other vice, it is not looked upon with much unkindness yet!


p.s.- due to lack of much activity and also because of the fact tht i love tags, a sweetheart friend of mine and i have decided to dedicate an entire blog to tags!!!
http://tags-n-us.blogspot.com/

:D
i know, we are absolute geniuses!!!!