Spin it like a square disc, the world deserves that much from you. It's a jazz hand, not X-ray, no matter what you say. You can do anything you want.

Orkut's most unguarded secret has revealed itself to us. Well hellloooo, look whooo's he-ere! Life is suddenly fun all over again. And full of knick-knack promises. I am kicked. In a Dean Moriarty-ish way. It's like the energy doesn't know where to go, and I'm jiggling around like crazy jelly. Itsagoood. I love Namak and Miles Davis and John Coltrane's four. It's all I listen to these days. The hand on top is Davis'. Dunnhe have nice hands?

The Kiss

I love Klimt.

A little big kid

...is what I am. Is the way I've always felt. Never old enough, never young enough. The perpetual awkward teen. Even when I was eight.
Eight was a great year...a lesson-in-life kind of year. I made the best of friends at eight, and also got to know up-close and personal how cruel people can be, for no reason at all. I led a double life ever since I joined school. At home I was exuberant, colourful, in the thick of things - acting in plays, participating in sports, being a tom-boy, group mediator (not leader, mediator), cycling about, being cute... you name it... I was quite the spotlight hog. And in school, things were devastatingly different. The teacher had a tough time remembering my name, I was already proclaimed fat, because well, I wasn't skinny and didn't have 26 ribs poking out of me, the last one to be chosen in any play or sports event, and written off as an average student (the teacher fell off her chair when I just happened to use the term "unfortunately, however" in an answer... was labled the "English-types" ever since). A day didn't go by when I wasn't told I was "irresponsible" ( a real favourite of her's), "silly" or plain "stupid". I was dismissed as someone lost to the world, because of her lack of responsibilty, general retardedness and weakness in Mental Math....and also because I forgot to wear my cardigan for the class photograph : "How highly irresponsible!"
But it was great that this happened. It made me part-rebel-part-outcast and connected me with some of the most wonderful friends ever. Friends who didn't give a damn if I got more or less than them in my history test or whether I was chosen for the relay team or whether people thought I was pretty or whether I was the class monitor. We created an imaginary world for ourselves and that dreary space behind the Planetarium became the coolest place on earth. We exchanged books which were not Enid Blytons, and we played games where there weren't any winners or losers or Donkeys. When one of us got punished, the rest would join in and suddenely being called irresponsible or stupid didn't hurt as much. It puzzled the popular types. It made us feel like goddamn heroes.
I don't think I've changed much since then. I have all sorts of friends, but there are very few who actually get me, or care enough to get me. Even the closest tend to stereotype you. But that's okay. That "I am different...I am unique" phase has died a natural death inside me. Because I'm not. We're all connected in little ways, and I connected with that lot when I was eight most, because I was in need of a connection most back then. It was never a problem making friends. But to find a connection...to find that little something that makes you feel wow...is not easy. Or maybe it's just asking for too much for a little big kid of eight going on twenty-one.

Afel

It's the bored people's thing. I just ate it.

Independance day usually meant School programmes and Baba's office. School's out, but Baba's office celebrations still take place. Baba raises the flag, we sing the National Anthem, I slink into his office and fiddle around with the fancy stuff there (his loo is the coolest, with very cool lotions and colognes he never uses...and mint...shit...his loo has mints) and then we have lunch and come back home and sleep. That's always been I-day for me.
But as the days go by, (don't worry I'm not getting into the superficiality jazz and moral speeches) I feel sorry. For me. There is a lot misplaced patriotism in me. I can't even begin to explain what that is. Sometimes...just sometimes, I feel that I was born in the wrong era. Not because there is nothing I can do for my country now....it's just that a struggle often brings out the best in you...the true patriot in you...and I...my friends, have never had to struggle a single day in my life. And that's the sad, pasta-potato truth.

Overrrr baby, over. Gloom, gloom, gloom. Whatta grey day. But it's my kind of thing, so it's cool. I have absolutely nothing to do now. I mean I do, but they don't take up any mental space.

Freedom. Too much of it, I think.

I'm hungry as hell.

KANK can kill. Don't let KANK kill.

Ai Caramba! I am going to be cut up at the end of this month! And I think it's kinda sorta cool. :)

I saw The Blair Witch Project all by myself in an empty house today. Okay, so it was in the daytime, and I wasn't that scared...ahem...at least not as scared as I was when I saw Exorcist(but to be fair I was 8)...so it's not a great feat or anything. But...shit... Dee was right...it's fucks your mind. THANK GOD for The Full Monty, which they repeated on Star Movies for the zillionth time. Watching middle aged men strip is way better than shaky cinema verite about an unseen witch.
Anyway...been grunging out all day. Still haven't showered. Wearing chera Tee. Sleeping all the time. Coughing dramatically. Doing all the stupid things you do when you're all alone and bored. Or am I? Alone that is...

Friendship Day is just such a pain in the butt. Just because I didn't call you or sms you, doesn't mean that I don't like you. And just because I did, doesn't mean that I do. See what I mean? Oh what the hell. I've been a whore of a friend of late anyway, so it doesn't matter. I'm a fraansip-day scrooge.

I think I'm a bitch now. Oh well.

A spine is in order

Now Karu, Guds and I unanimously agreed that we all have one-third spines. Karu grew hers, Guds grew hers, and I am still left to do so. But I've been trying of late....really hard. There's just that much of bullshit that you can really take. I've always been weary of the blame game. It's the coward's way out really. So what you do, is direct all your anger, blame or whatever at yourself, and well...end up becoming this self-effacing fucked up thing. But I think that's got to stop. Sometimes, you're wrong. But not all the bloody time. I think it's time that, we all started being a little honest with ourselves. And accept that, certain things will never be what they were. Like there is that one empty room at home, and that's that, no two ways about it. Or that your side-profile sucks, boo-hoo, too bad. Or that you have changed, and you cannot help it if the persons closest to you do not notice it....or notice it too much.

Ice Chess anyone?

SMS wasn't supposed to happen to us. Not after all these years. But it did anyway.