"Finally see what it means to be living."
Fast Car
(The vertical horizon version, dedicated to Luci.)
So, what does 'living' even mean? And no, not the biological bit, the pumping of the heart, the flexing of the muscles, the ability to raise one eyebrow, touch your nose with your tongue, no, not that.
I mean, the feeling of existing, of just being so alive, that you almost cant take it. Your bursting, saturated with joy, to just be. To experience life to its fullest, no regrets, nothing holding you back. You jump just because you want to, you move just because the music makes you. You laugh because their words tickled a feeling, you think because your searching for meaning. That drive, that desire to be something, that ruthless ambition, driven for passion thats so strong its almost destructive.
Life just seems to pass me by.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Saturday, May 28, 2005
Waiting to exhale godammit.
Redemption might be far away, but atleast its garunteed. Freedom, and the ability to do be stress free and exercise free will come soon enough. Salvation is on its way, times will change, things will become better. The dark circles will go, the niccotine intake will reduce, loose jeans and nightsuits will be replaced by clothes that are condusive to leaving my house, worthy of seeing more than the stack of textbooks and empty coke cans. Life will consist of more than take out and study breaks, there will be music and dancing and laughter.
WHEN are these godforsaken exams going to END?
Death to economics. I might love this asshole subject, but its keeping me from doing everything that i want to do. Inflation, economic growth and demand/supply mean absolutely nothing to me at this point in time.
Countdown- 7days/168 hours/ 3 nervous breakdowns.
WHEN are these godforsaken exams going to END?
Death to economics. I might love this asshole subject, but its keeping me from doing everything that i want to do. Inflation, economic growth and demand/supply mean absolutely nothing to me at this point in time.
Countdown- 7days/168 hours/ 3 nervous breakdowns.
Friday, May 27, 2005
Living a little!
After 2 weeks of utter shit, of being so alone, of realizing just how isolated i am, of reaching the lowest of all lows..
Today happened.
After a decent exam, and a body that was so high on redbull, i meet the two of you, so happy to just see two familiar faces, two people for whom the love is unconditional. We always meet in our 'bhangan halats' not really caring what we look like, or what we're wearing, because, its just US. We sit and discuss everything under the sun. Run into goldies house and pounce on him till hes cursing in his 'sexy black undies' about how we woke him up from deep slumber. We eat 'ghar ka khana' but its still yum. You play my music, she dances as if no ones watching, I laugh till im crying. Im lying on those floor cushions, talking about our warped theories about how Kurt Kobain died, eventhough its probably not the transgendered hooker with the midget side kick who probably did it. I tell you about my plans and ambitions and you listen while I ramble on and on. He buys Haagen Das, and we eat till we cant eat anymore. We spend four hours doing absolutely nothing, sitting and staring, choking after 10 minute laughing fits. Planning the summer, the huge group of us travelling together, the Tiesto concert we have to go to, the stress of these bloody exams ending.
I was given a brush up lesson on 'fun'.
I love the both of you.
Thankyou.
Today happened.
After a decent exam, and a body that was so high on redbull, i meet the two of you, so happy to just see two familiar faces, two people for whom the love is unconditional. We always meet in our 'bhangan halats' not really caring what we look like, or what we're wearing, because, its just US. We sit and discuss everything under the sun. Run into goldies house and pounce on him till hes cursing in his 'sexy black undies' about how we woke him up from deep slumber. We eat 'ghar ka khana' but its still yum. You play my music, she dances as if no ones watching, I laugh till im crying. Im lying on those floor cushions, talking about our warped theories about how Kurt Kobain died, eventhough its probably not the transgendered hooker with the midget side kick who probably did it. I tell you about my plans and ambitions and you listen while I ramble on and on. He buys Haagen Das, and we eat till we cant eat anymore. We spend four hours doing absolutely nothing, sitting and staring, choking after 10 minute laughing fits. Planning the summer, the huge group of us travelling together, the Tiesto concert we have to go to, the stress of these bloody exams ending.
I was given a brush up lesson on 'fun'.
I love the both of you.
Thankyou.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
The scene opens, three girls are shown lying down on a beige sofa. One girl, lets name her T, was flipping through the channels on her silver-gray television. There was a minimal light, just cracks shining through the ink blue curtains, enough to show the sheer exhaustion that inhibited their faces. A well deserved study break, to calm the nerves, to gather the strength to continue eventually.
The highly irritating flicking stops abruptly as a F.R.I.E.N.D.S rerun was coming on star world. The girl with her eyes shut (lets call her papaya) allows a smile to linger on her lips, and indulges in a world far removed from her own. Admidst snickers and chuckles, the ads start playing, and T begins commenting on each and every bloody advertisement that comes her way.
"Oh god, how can anyone watch these shows? Who cares what Americas Funniest Home Vidoes are?"
Papayas musters the strength to speak and says, "Actually my younger brother watches it. Its one of his favourites."
"You have a brother? Thats funny, you always came across as an only child."
The highly irritating flicking stops abruptly as a F.R.I.E.N.D.S rerun was coming on star world. The girl with her eyes shut (lets call her papaya) allows a smile to linger on her lips, and indulges in a world far removed from her own. Admidst snickers and chuckles, the ads start playing, and T begins commenting on each and every bloody advertisement that comes her way.
"Oh god, how can anyone watch these shows? Who cares what Americas Funniest Home Vidoes are?"
Papayas musters the strength to speak and says, "Actually my younger brother watches it. Its one of his favourites."
"You have a brother? Thats funny, you always came across as an only child."
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Going with the flow
The high school girl turned 17 only one month back. Far from the myth of being sweet at sixteen, i was just as (if not more) confused and exhausted. Its pathetic really, to be so tired of a life that you havnt really lived yet. I often get the, "yeah your 17 going on 45" comment, and its completely justified. I think too much, analyze too much, make random assumptions, and end up killing myself in the process. Im surrounded by such diametrically opposed people. From parents, to the best friends, to practically everyone.
Im not like this in real life. Im a retard, the one who'll be laughing for absolutely no reason, and will be ready with a smart-ass comment to counter and beat anyone elses. People think im the most relaxed and calm person they have ever met, what you see is what you get. Im the agony aunt, call me at 4 in the morning, ill groan for a bit and then listen till you feel better. I do things that every other 17 year old does, from smiling when you get me 100 balloons on my birthday to squealing when i do well in a test. I listen to the same music, hangout with the same people, follow the same stuff on tv- I even visit the same countries when on holiday.
Am i really like everyone else? Well, you seem to think so. I thank whoever it is up there for surrounding me with people who are either really accepting, or really really stupid. Either way, it works well enough.
But, im not like you. I never will be. I love NY city because of the amazing Salvador Dahli i saw at the Met, not the great shopping. I would choose Alanis over the new Nelly cd. Ill listen to your problems, because im too scared to tell you my own, too scared that you'll laugh at me, or judge me for being so naive. I love the 100 balloons because i love how at night, they fall one by one, till theres one solitary balloon left and eventhough youll think itll fall soon enough, itll keep on hanging on, till you turn your back for one second and it comes floating down like all the rest of them. I love American Beauty, not because of the nude bits, but because for once, someone had the balls to present the truth, something that all of us have conveniently set aside. I meet you, spend time with you and laugh with you, because im perpetually haunted by the feeling of my own inadequacy, telling you what you want to hear, because my own opinion doesnt really matter.
Im sorry, for never being myself.
But, im always scared by the fact that you would stop loving me if I ever tried to be.
Im not like this in real life. Im a retard, the one who'll be laughing for absolutely no reason, and will be ready with a smart-ass comment to counter and beat anyone elses. People think im the most relaxed and calm person they have ever met, what you see is what you get. Im the agony aunt, call me at 4 in the morning, ill groan for a bit and then listen till you feel better. I do things that every other 17 year old does, from smiling when you get me 100 balloons on my birthday to squealing when i do well in a test. I listen to the same music, hangout with the same people, follow the same stuff on tv- I even visit the same countries when on holiday.
Am i really like everyone else? Well, you seem to think so. I thank whoever it is up there for surrounding me with people who are either really accepting, or really really stupid. Either way, it works well enough.
But, im not like you. I never will be. I love NY city because of the amazing Salvador Dahli i saw at the Met, not the great shopping. I would choose Alanis over the new Nelly cd. Ill listen to your problems, because im too scared to tell you my own, too scared that you'll laugh at me, or judge me for being so naive. I love the 100 balloons because i love how at night, they fall one by one, till theres one solitary balloon left and eventhough youll think itll fall soon enough, itll keep on hanging on, till you turn your back for one second and it comes floating down like all the rest of them. I love American Beauty, not because of the nude bits, but because for once, someone had the balls to present the truth, something that all of us have conveniently set aside. I meet you, spend time with you and laugh with you, because im perpetually haunted by the feeling of my own inadequacy, telling you what you want to hear, because my own opinion doesnt really matter.
Im sorry, for never being myself.
But, im always scared by the fact that you would stop loving me if I ever tried to be.
Sunday, May 22, 2005
Conversations between me and myself
Stones, taught me to fly
Love, taught me to lie
Life, taught me to die
So its not hard to fall,
When you float like a cannonball.
I want magic to possess my fingers, allowing me to write things that i would never write, people i would never care for, movies i would never watch, things i would never dare to love.
I feel empty, completely hollow, as if ive been expelled from all spheres of normalcy and enthusiasm. I want to take risks, and for once in my life, do something because i want to, not because its what everyone else is doing. Sometimes i just want to be me. But its so scary, the very thought is terrifying. Im not a good person, neither am i worthy of other peoples attention, or other peoples care. I forget sometimes, that i am nobody.
My fingers are numb, a reflection of my current state of mind. Cursed voodoo dances through my veins, and sometimes, i want to give into the chant. Everything is cold, distant, i live in moulded perceptions of my existence. I refuse to accept things, move on, pick up the broken shreds of my life and start a fresh. What do i do instead? I walk on, the shreds cut through, and i bleed. And i cry, and my tears wash away the pain. But its all temporary. Pictures come back, voices resume their ranting, and soon, everything is back to how it used to be.
I manufacture illusions. I create these little bubbles of happiness, only because so much sorrow is impossible to mantain for so long. I forget that i am alone, that everyone around me is in crisis, and, as im binded to them, i fall with them, into a pool of strangers, each trying to upstage each other, each trying to make the biggest sacrifice, the biggest leap of faith.
I know that ill do the right thing, take the high road, its always the harder one, but im used to it. I dwell deeper into denial, afraid to wake up, to see the world for what it is. A world of misery and pain, some of which i had a part in. I refuse to comprehend that im capable of causing other people pain. Its convenient, i expect so much from people, but give absolutely nothing in return. I run from the truth, too scared to acknowledge it, because it will tell me that im not perfect, there are people out there who are better than me, who try harder, who achieve more- who are actually content with the person they have become
my halo is slipping down to choke me now
Love, taught me to lie
Life, taught me to die
So its not hard to fall,
When you float like a cannonball.
I want magic to possess my fingers, allowing me to write things that i would never write, people i would never care for, movies i would never watch, things i would never dare to love.
I feel empty, completely hollow, as if ive been expelled from all spheres of normalcy and enthusiasm. I want to take risks, and for once in my life, do something because i want to, not because its what everyone else is doing. Sometimes i just want to be me. But its so scary, the very thought is terrifying. Im not a good person, neither am i worthy of other peoples attention, or other peoples care. I forget sometimes, that i am nobody.
My fingers are numb, a reflection of my current state of mind. Cursed voodoo dances through my veins, and sometimes, i want to give into the chant. Everything is cold, distant, i live in moulded perceptions of my existence. I refuse to accept things, move on, pick up the broken shreds of my life and start a fresh. What do i do instead? I walk on, the shreds cut through, and i bleed. And i cry, and my tears wash away the pain. But its all temporary. Pictures come back, voices resume their ranting, and soon, everything is back to how it used to be.
I manufacture illusions. I create these little bubbles of happiness, only because so much sorrow is impossible to mantain for so long. I forget that i am alone, that everyone around me is in crisis, and, as im binded to them, i fall with them, into a pool of strangers, each trying to upstage each other, each trying to make the biggest sacrifice, the biggest leap of faith.
I know that ill do the right thing, take the high road, its always the harder one, but im used to it. I dwell deeper into denial, afraid to wake up, to see the world for what it is. A world of misery and pain, some of which i had a part in. I refuse to comprehend that im capable of causing other people pain. Its convenient, i expect so much from people, but give absolutely nothing in return. I run from the truth, too scared to acknowledge it, because it will tell me that im not perfect, there are people out there who are better than me, who try harder, who achieve more- who are actually content with the person they have become
my halo is slipping down to choke me now
Saturday, May 21, 2005
All the small things
10-44
Sitting and watching useless television, while my books lay on the bed, untouched and uncared for. Life seems boring, redundant and painfully monotonous. 2 whole weeks before it all ends and i can live again. Everything seems old and moulded.
10-45
A suprise visit from A. Just checking up on me. Burnt me a cd, and brought me food. Forced me to put of the tv and gave me a pep talk. Told me everything was going to be ok and that two weeks are not that long.
I love you.
A while later-
And life is happy once again :)
Sitting and watching useless television, while my books lay on the bed, untouched and uncared for. Life seems boring, redundant and painfully monotonous. 2 whole weeks before it all ends and i can live again. Everything seems old and moulded.
10-45
A suprise visit from A. Just checking up on me. Burnt me a cd, and brought me food. Forced me to put of the tv and gave me a pep talk. Told me everything was going to be ok and that two weeks are not that long.
I love you.
A while later-
And life is happy once again :)
Wednesday, May 18, 2005
Things that make one (well... me) happy
1) When you think youve overslept, but when you check the time its still 4 in the morning and you realize you can go back to bed.
2) When someone give you a compliment, irrespective of how superficial or meaningless it might be. It still makes you feel better about yourself.
3) When you crave a particular kind of food, and you somehow manage to get your hands on it.
4) When a friend calls for no reason, and then instead of saying hello she starts belting out the lyrics of some cheesy song that has 80 million memories attached to it.
5) When you finally realize that you are over a situation that had been irritating you for a while now. When you can finally come to terms with it, and then eventually move on.
6) When you hear your song playing at a random store and you swaying your hips to it, while still trying to hold on to your dignity.
7) When you have a radical opinion, and someone agrees with you.
8) When you need niccotine, and theres only one cig left in the pack. ( I need to quit, i need MOTIVATION to quit)
9) When you randomly weigh yourself, and youve lost 4 pounds, eventhough you were not trying to.
10) When you get a late birthday gift, and its handmade. And is so emotional that you almost start crying. Its scary sometimes when you realize that you mean something to someone else. After all the self doubt and isolation, this comes as quite a shock.
2) When someone give you a compliment, irrespective of how superficial or meaningless it might be. It still makes you feel better about yourself.
3) When you crave a particular kind of food, and you somehow manage to get your hands on it.
4) When a friend calls for no reason, and then instead of saying hello she starts belting out the lyrics of some cheesy song that has 80 million memories attached to it.
5) When you finally realize that you are over a situation that had been irritating you for a while now. When you can finally come to terms with it, and then eventually move on.
6) When you hear your song playing at a random store and you swaying your hips to it, while still trying to hold on to your dignity.
7) When you have a radical opinion, and someone agrees with you.
8) When you need niccotine, and theres only one cig left in the pack. ( I need to quit, i need MOTIVATION to quit)
9) When you randomly weigh yourself, and youve lost 4 pounds, eventhough you were not trying to.
10) When you get a late birthday gift, and its handmade. And is so emotional that you almost start crying. Its scary sometimes when you realize that you mean something to someone else. After all the self doubt and isolation, this comes as quite a shock.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Holy shit.
One dodgy article in Newsweek, and fifteen people have died.
I know,the whole "oh shit we are sorry fake article" nonsense is probaby just some major cover up by the US government in order to save their own ass. (Funny thing is, they actually think we believe them.) Its not like they put much emphasis on free speech or journalistic freedom. (Case in point- I just put on Fox News, and they are harping on about the bloody Micheal Jackson trial. I mean, get over it. For the love of god get over it.)
But still, its scary how much influence the media can have in moulding public opinion. People have DIED for gods sake.
Makes me rethink the whole journalism as a career thing. Do i want that responsibility? Or am i just too scared to do something that will actually have an impact on someone or something?
One dodgy article in Newsweek, and fifteen people have died.
I know,the whole "oh shit we are sorry fake article" nonsense is probaby just some major cover up by the US government in order to save their own ass. (Funny thing is, they actually think we believe them.) Its not like they put much emphasis on free speech or journalistic freedom. (Case in point- I just put on Fox News, and they are harping on about the bloody Micheal Jackson trial. I mean, get over it. For the love of god get over it.)
But still, its scary how much influence the media can have in moulding public opinion. People have DIED for gods sake.
Makes me rethink the whole journalism as a career thing. Do i want that responsibility? Or am i just too scared to do something that will actually have an impact on someone or something?
All i wish for is all i need..
You know what isnt fair? This heat. Its bloody unbearable.
Your hair does funny things, and you brain refuses to function. All sticky and sweaty, you question if your use of deodrant was enough.
The demand for the likes of Fa and Sure and all other smell removers mustve gone up so much these days. Our fine academic instituion needs to realize that under these circumstances its very very hard to work, to think, to even bother to attempt to write the 12 page answer that you need in order to even TRY to get a good grade. Its unfair really, people who take main stream subjects like Physics and Bio tend to get to sit in the auditorium, which is completely air contioned and chilly. But no, harrass the History and Literature students. In this case, there is NO strength in numbers.
(Yes i do realize that im trying to blame my performance today on the most stupidest reason thinkable.. but whatever... can hurt to try can it?)
Having said that, it wasn't bad really. Except i made the stupid mistake of speaking to the smartest girl after the exam. And she has this uncanny way of making you feel incredibly useless and pathetic in the short span of 2 minutes.
Your hair does funny things, and you brain refuses to function. All sticky and sweaty, you question if your use of deodrant was enough.
The demand for the likes of Fa and Sure and all other smell removers mustve gone up so much these days. Our fine academic instituion needs to realize that under these circumstances its very very hard to work, to think, to even bother to attempt to write the 12 page answer that you need in order to even TRY to get a good grade. Its unfair really, people who take main stream subjects like Physics and Bio tend to get to sit in the auditorium, which is completely air contioned and chilly. But no, harrass the History and Literature students. In this case, there is NO strength in numbers.
(Yes i do realize that im trying to blame my performance today on the most stupidest reason thinkable.. but whatever... can hurt to try can it?)
Having said that, it wasn't bad really. Except i made the stupid mistake of speaking to the smartest girl after the exam. And she has this uncanny way of making you feel incredibly useless and pathetic in the short span of 2 minutes.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
1 down 3 to go.
Imtahan number 2 tomorrow.
Relatively less stressed, relatively more prepared.
Life is better but no where close to great.
Whoever the hell is reading is, irrespective of wether you believe in god or not, PLEASE say a little prayer for me, if you have the time.
Relatively less stressed, relatively more prepared.
Life is better but no where close to great.
Whoever the hell is reading is, irrespective of wether you believe in god or not, PLEASE say a little prayer for me, if you have the time.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
Does the word 'Hypocrisy' mean anything to you?
I have a relative who wants to get married to a strict muslim with minimal education and maximum 'modesty' . You know, achi family walee girls and all that jazz. He prays five times a day, has been for Umrah half a dozen times, never misses even one roza. He even went to Iran to study Islam as a subject for 2 years, he even learnt Arabic.
He just asked me if one of my friends could score him some hash. Or alcohol, whichever was less of a hassle, he prefers Absolut, but right now, he'll take anything.
DO I NEED TO WRITE ANY FURTHER?
He just asked me if one of my friends could score him some hash. Or alcohol, whichever was less of a hassle, he prefers Absolut, but right now, he'll take anything.
DO I NEED TO WRITE ANY FURTHER?
Two sides to every story.
What do you do when your two best friends fight?
I know, this really isn't about me. This is narcissism at its peak. But still, WHAT the hell am i supposed to do? Guys can be so stupid some times, small problems and differences culminate in such huge events. Sometimes, diplomatic means can solve the problem, but no one seems to care anymore. Its been brewing for a while, but i never thought it could get so bad so fast. I dont want to be visiting people in hospitals. And all of this over one girl.
Its hard to remain nuetral, when there's so much at stake, and so little to fight over. Emotions run high, people who mean the world to you act like you dont exist. Ive been screamed at about ten times today. They are "my fucking friends" and they created the problem, even though i had nothing to do with it. I didnt even know what happened or when things got so serious. And now, there are two camps, and both of them are ready and armed to fight. And the chances are that im going to get caught somewhere in the crossfire.
They laugh at me when i try to say that im switzerland, that eventhough people who i love more than myself are involved i will somehow manage to stay out of it. Its impossible, they mean too much to me. But at this point, i dont know what else to do. Recognizing the problem would mean that i would have to deal with it, and right now, thats too much too ask. Im faced with the possibility of having my support system give up on me, and right now, wandering in denial seems like a better alternative, rather than facing the fact, that life will never be the same. That i will never be the same.
Whoever came up with the line, 'stuck between a rock and a hard place' was probably going through something similar to this.
I know, this really isn't about me. This is narcissism at its peak. But still, WHAT the hell am i supposed to do? Guys can be so stupid some times, small problems and differences culminate in such huge events. Sometimes, diplomatic means can solve the problem, but no one seems to care anymore. Its been brewing for a while, but i never thought it could get so bad so fast. I dont want to be visiting people in hospitals. And all of this over one girl.
Its hard to remain nuetral, when there's so much at stake, and so little to fight over. Emotions run high, people who mean the world to you act like you dont exist. Ive been screamed at about ten times today. They are "my fucking friends" and they created the problem, even though i had nothing to do with it. I didnt even know what happened or when things got so serious. And now, there are two camps, and both of them are ready and armed to fight. And the chances are that im going to get caught somewhere in the crossfire.
They laugh at me when i try to say that im switzerland, that eventhough people who i love more than myself are involved i will somehow manage to stay out of it. Its impossible, they mean too much to me. But at this point, i dont know what else to do. Recognizing the problem would mean that i would have to deal with it, and right now, thats too much too ask. Im faced with the possibility of having my support system give up on me, and right now, wandering in denial seems like a better alternative, rather than facing the fact, that life will never be the same. That i will never be the same.
Whoever came up with the line, 'stuck between a rock and a hard place' was probably going through something similar to this.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
And as the sun would set you would rise,
Fall from the sky into paradise,
Is there no light in your heart for me?
Youve closed your eyes you no longer see.
There were no lies between me and you
You said nothing of what you knew
But there was still something in your eyes
Left me helpless and paralysed.
No Ordinary Morning
Chicane
This song NEVER gets old.
Fall from the sky into paradise,
Is there no light in your heart for me?
Youve closed your eyes you no longer see.
There were no lies between me and you
You said nothing of what you knew
But there was still something in your eyes
Left me helpless and paralysed.
No Ordinary Morning
Chicane
This song NEVER gets old.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Random lyricals.
Aint no sunshine when she's gone!
Only darkness everyday!
Aint no sunshine whens shes gone!
And she's always gone too long,
Everytime, she goes away.
I want this blog entry to be a testament to the fact that i have truly tried my best. What ever happens tomorrow will happen, but now, its out of my control. I gave it my all, i exerted myself as much as i truly could. This is it. This was my best shot.
(Eventhough i spent a lot of time on this godforsaken computer, and was not home much, and have let out about half the syllabus. Ah... mere details :D )
Only darkness everyday!
Aint no sunshine whens shes gone!
And she's always gone too long,
Everytime, she goes away.
I want this blog entry to be a testament to the fact that i have truly tried my best. What ever happens tomorrow will happen, but now, its out of my control. I gave it my all, i exerted myself as much as i truly could. This is it. This was my best shot.
(Eventhough i spent a lot of time on this godforsaken computer, and was not home much, and have let out about half the syllabus. Ah... mere details :D )
Monday, May 09, 2005
Blasphemy?
OO-er
Was innocently dancing away to Tiesto in the shower when the fajr azaan started.
God would not be too happy. (Its funny though, i claim to be agnostic... WHY do i even care?)
What I want to be doing right now-
1- Sleeping
2- Inhaling or drinking anything that would intoxicate me right out of my misery
3- Running far far away from the likes of history and literature.
What i am doing-
1- Catching a cold because my maid once AGAIN forgot to leave me a clean towel and therefore has caused to go into a shivering fit.
2- Looking at my books, then shutting them because its too late.
3- Sitting on orkut. This is the lowest point of my fucking existence.
4- Taking sleeping pills that will hopefully throw me into a deep slumber before dawn.
5-15 in the morning is such a shitty time
I disgust myself.
Was innocently dancing away to Tiesto in the shower when the fajr azaan started.
God would not be too happy. (Its funny though, i claim to be agnostic... WHY do i even care?)
What I want to be doing right now-
1- Sleeping
2- Inhaling or drinking anything that would intoxicate me right out of my misery
3- Running far far away from the likes of history and literature.
What i am doing-
1- Catching a cold because my maid once AGAIN forgot to leave me a clean towel and therefore has caused to go into a shivering fit.
2- Looking at my books, then shutting them because its too late.
3- Sitting on orkut. This is the lowest point of my fucking existence.
4- Taking sleeping pills that will hopefully throw me into a deep slumber before dawn.
5-15 in the morning is such a shitty time
I disgust myself.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Friday, May 06, 2005
Backstreets Back
I hear that the Backstreet Boys have come out with a new single.
Some people just need to realize when its time to give up.
And for this boy band, it was much before their first single even came out.
Some people just need to realize when its time to give up.
And for this boy band, it was much before their first single even came out.
Things i have learnt today-
1- Mothers day is on Sunday, not yesterday. Therefore i am NOT justified in thinking that im a horrible horrible daughter.
2- When someone buys you an ashtray, you tend to smoke more.
3- Pie in the Sky makes great chocolate cake.
4- Dont make the mistake of wearing a white bra with a black shirt. It shows. Which is odd but true.
5- Some guy in German history made it a point to give his treaties un-pronouncable names like the "Draikaiserbund" of 1881. Die Otto Van Bismarck die.
6- Otto Van Bismarck is already dead.
7- If you tie your hair when its wet you tend to get a headache.
8- I dont have brown eyes, i have light brown eyes. (BIG difference OK)
9- Things are always not as bad as you make them out to be.
10- Blogging is addictive, and QUITE a waste of precious time, of which i have very little to begin with.
On that note, byebye.
2- When someone buys you an ashtray, you tend to smoke more.
3- Pie in the Sky makes great chocolate cake.
4- Dont make the mistake of wearing a white bra with a black shirt. It shows. Which is odd but true.
5- Some guy in German history made it a point to give his treaties un-pronouncable names like the "Draikaiserbund" of 1881. Die Otto Van Bismarck die.
6- Otto Van Bismarck is already dead.
7- If you tie your hair when its wet you tend to get a headache.
8- I dont have brown eyes, i have light brown eyes. (BIG difference OK)
9- Things are always not as bad as you make them out to be.
10- Blogging is addictive, and QUITE a waste of precious time, of which i have very little to begin with.
On that note, byebye.
Thursday, May 05, 2005
Running
"Said maybe, your gonna be the one that saves me
And afterall, your my wonderwall"
Wonderwall
Oasis
--
What a song
Its ironic that i cant afford to sing it to anyone.
Birthdays are supposed to be fun, not only for whos birthday it is, but for everyone.
Right?
Then what the fuck was today? It was fine, to an extent. The rush of finally getting out and not being under house arrest, buying gifts, the cake, the cheap candles. Bieng late and keeping everyone waiting and then finally piling into cars and trying to be quiet at goldies so that he wouldnt here us climbing up the stairs. Trying to control a laughing fit and NOT managing, walking in singing, and then laughing like an idiot when he's sitting there in his boxers.
And then
WHO is that? No, please tell me im hallucinating. Please. It cant be you. No. Please please. I beg of you. This is awkward, and weird, just go away. Do i meet you? say hello? or do i ignore you?
"Hi"
"Hey.. howve u been?"
"Good. The same really."
And then i walk off, ignore ignore ignore. This is horrible. Somehow we go through the entire night avoiding each other, making an effort to act like there was no past, nothing happened between us, we were nothing, and now, we are even less than that.
And then you sit next to me on the way back. Why? Why? WHY.
And it all comes flooding back. WHY did you make it awkward between us? It was fine, we got along fine, everything was good. And then, you tell me you love me.
WHY?
And i freak out, i cant handle stuff like this, i just cant, i wasnt built for relationships or anything of that sort. It just not meant to be. Let it it go , please. And my so called friends, are making it SO obvious. STOP please STOP. I cant confront things, i just run away, far away. And do whatever i can to act like im fine. I cant talk about my "feelings". Im an emotionally withdrawn person, and i highly doubt you can change that.
I get home, and get shit from everyone. Why was i ignoring him? Why was i making such a big deal out of it? Everyone thinks im so full of it, trying to make a big deal out of things that SHOULD have ended a while back. Feelings that should have died down, words that should have been spoken, problems that should have been sorted out.
And i have no one to stick up for me, just take my side, eventhough im wrong, just because, well because its unconditional.
Im such a bitch. A good guy. Who everyone loves. And this is what i do.
I hate myself. This is the lowest low. This is the end. This is it.
I want to dissapear, just go away, be anywhere but here.
I wish i could just erase this night away.
-
And afterall, your my wonderwall"
Wonderwall
Oasis
--
What a song
Its ironic that i cant afford to sing it to anyone.
Birthdays are supposed to be fun, not only for whos birthday it is, but for everyone.
Right?
Then what the fuck was today? It was fine, to an extent. The rush of finally getting out and not being under house arrest, buying gifts, the cake, the cheap candles. Bieng late and keeping everyone waiting and then finally piling into cars and trying to be quiet at goldies so that he wouldnt here us climbing up the stairs. Trying to control a laughing fit and NOT managing, walking in singing, and then laughing like an idiot when he's sitting there in his boxers.
And then
WHO is that? No, please tell me im hallucinating. Please. It cant be you. No. Please please. I beg of you. This is awkward, and weird, just go away. Do i meet you? say hello? or do i ignore you?
"Hi"
"Hey.. howve u been?"
"Good. The same really."
And then i walk off, ignore ignore ignore. This is horrible. Somehow we go through the entire night avoiding each other, making an effort to act like there was no past, nothing happened between us, we were nothing, and now, we are even less than that.
And then you sit next to me on the way back. Why? Why? WHY.
And it all comes flooding back. WHY did you make it awkward between us? It was fine, we got along fine, everything was good. And then, you tell me you love me.
WHY?
And i freak out, i cant handle stuff like this, i just cant, i wasnt built for relationships or anything of that sort. It just not meant to be. Let it it go , please. And my so called friends, are making it SO obvious. STOP please STOP. I cant confront things, i just run away, far away. And do whatever i can to act like im fine. I cant talk about my "feelings". Im an emotionally withdrawn person, and i highly doubt you can change that.
I get home, and get shit from everyone. Why was i ignoring him? Why was i making such a big deal out of it? Everyone thinks im so full of it, trying to make a big deal out of things that SHOULD have ended a while back. Feelings that should have died down, words that should have been spoken, problems that should have been sorted out.
And i have no one to stick up for me, just take my side, eventhough im wrong, just because, well because its unconditional.
Im such a bitch. A good guy. Who everyone loves. And this is what i do.
I hate myself. This is the lowest low. This is the end. This is it.
I want to dissapear, just go away, be anywhere but here.
I wish i could just erase this night away.
-
Wednesday, May 04, 2005
And here i go switching sides again.
Damn, i was angry yesterday
A good night of sleep + increased niccotine and caffeine intake + my best friends birthday (GREAT excuse to not study) = bliss.
Life is not great, neither is it close to ok. But whatever, i really couldnt be bothered to sit here and maaro some pseudo intellectual bullshit that will be of absolutely no significance to me or anyone who reads this.
WHAT i ask, is the point of this?
------------------------------
I was walking down the busy streets of Mumbai city, in search of the biggest strawberry i could find. When i say walking, i mean strolling at a incredibly slow rate, just trying to absorb everything around me. This city never fails to suprise me. There is so much, in such a small space, so congested so saturated that things are overlapping and eating into each other. Lines of wealth, happiness and social status are blurred, everyone does their thing, struggling to achieve what they have been striving for wether it be enough money to feed their family of 6 or the downpayment on their new car. The city boasts of diversity. Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, women in sarees, women in shorts, women of colour, women at work, women at home, vegitarians, carnivores, sufis, intellectuals, labourers, elite, children, old, happy, sad. And this is all present in one square metre of the vast city.
So in this whirlwind walks in a Pakistani, completely overwhelmed, but completely overjoyed. I felt like a discoverer, about to uncover some hidden treasure in the winding roads and broken houses. Almost in a trance, a smile would linger on my lips, an odd sort of contentment. I was so lost, but i felt strangely at home, because everyone can relate to someone or something here. You can never feel different, or odd, because there has to be SOMEONE who feels the exact same way. Each footstep echoed of all the people who had taken these steps before. There was truth and wisdom in them, and for a moment, i felt part of this big jumble of eccentricites.
To ruin all of this, walks in a annoying fruit vendor
"Baji baji.. buy some fruit"
"You have strawberrys?"
"Sorry, they are out of season, we have everything else though. Best fruit at the best price in all of Mumbai."
"Forget it, im only interested in strawberrys, thanks."
"Oh comeon. You cant survive on just one fruit, give something else a shot. I have melons peaches and papayas."
"I dont like papayas."
"Well obviously you dont, youve never tried my papayas."
"And what the hell makes your papayas so bloody special?"
"Oh come on baji, how can anything named discopapaya not be special? The name says it all."
A good night of sleep + increased niccotine and caffeine intake + my best friends birthday (GREAT excuse to not study) = bliss.
Life is not great, neither is it close to ok. But whatever, i really couldnt be bothered to sit here and maaro some pseudo intellectual bullshit that will be of absolutely no significance to me or anyone who reads this.
WHAT i ask, is the point of this?
------------------------------
I was walking down the busy streets of Mumbai city, in search of the biggest strawberry i could find. When i say walking, i mean strolling at a incredibly slow rate, just trying to absorb everything around me. This city never fails to suprise me. There is so much, in such a small space, so congested so saturated that things are overlapping and eating into each other. Lines of wealth, happiness and social status are blurred, everyone does their thing, struggling to achieve what they have been striving for wether it be enough money to feed their family of 6 or the downpayment on their new car. The city boasts of diversity. Hinduism, Islam, Christianity, women in sarees, women in shorts, women of colour, women at work, women at home, vegitarians, carnivores, sufis, intellectuals, labourers, elite, children, old, happy, sad. And this is all present in one square metre of the vast city.
So in this whirlwind walks in a Pakistani, completely overwhelmed, but completely overjoyed. I felt like a discoverer, about to uncover some hidden treasure in the winding roads and broken houses. Almost in a trance, a smile would linger on my lips, an odd sort of contentment. I was so lost, but i felt strangely at home, because everyone can relate to someone or something here. You can never feel different, or odd, because there has to be SOMEONE who feels the exact same way. Each footstep echoed of all the people who had taken these steps before. There was truth and wisdom in them, and for a moment, i felt part of this big jumble of eccentricites.
To ruin all of this, walks in a annoying fruit vendor
"Baji baji.. buy some fruit"
"You have strawberrys?"
"Sorry, they are out of season, we have everything else though. Best fruit at the best price in all of Mumbai."
"Forget it, im only interested in strawberrys, thanks."
"Oh comeon. You cant survive on just one fruit, give something else a shot. I have melons peaches and papayas."
"I dont like papayas."
"Well obviously you dont, youve never tried my papayas."
"And what the hell makes your papayas so bloody special?"
"Oh come on baji, how can anything named discopapaya not be special? The name says it all."
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
4-26 in the morning
Am experiencing utter and complete brain freeze. I cannot retain a single extra peice of information concerning anything remotely linked to the shit that the so called educators of this god for saken country like to call academics.
Fucking hell, my brain has given up on me, its telling me to shut the fuck up, stop talking and go to sleep. But as most normal people tend to not have conversations with their brains i struggle on, in search of god only knows what, trying really hard to not fall asleep on a big pile of history books and an empty can of red bull (which tastes like yesterdays piss by the way).
Nothing is helping, not my "feel alive" music selection, nor the cigarette that hangs loosely from my mouth, nor the call that tried to motivate me. Nothing. No one.
I give up.
I give the fuck up.
Can somone just fucking kill me?
I miss going out and meeting people and sitting and talking and laughing (WHY have i stopped laughing?) and just not caring, not having anything to worry about, to fret over, loose sleep over, to bother with. I miss feeling intelligent, and pretty, and loved.
I miss feeling loved.
I cant take this, i just cant.
Am experiencing utter and complete brain freeze. I cannot retain a single extra peice of information concerning anything remotely linked to the shit that the so called educators of this god for saken country like to call academics.
Fucking hell, my brain has given up on me, its telling me to shut the fuck up, stop talking and go to sleep. But as most normal people tend to not have conversations with their brains i struggle on, in search of god only knows what, trying really hard to not fall asleep on a big pile of history books and an empty can of red bull (which tastes like yesterdays piss by the way).
Nothing is helping, not my "feel alive" music selection, nor the cigarette that hangs loosely from my mouth, nor the call that tried to motivate me. Nothing. No one.
I give up.
I give the fuck up.
Can somone just fucking kill me?
I miss going out and meeting people and sitting and talking and laughing (WHY have i stopped laughing?) and just not caring, not having anything to worry about, to fret over, loose sleep over, to bother with. I miss feeling intelligent, and pretty, and loved.
I miss feeling loved.
I cant take this, i just cant.
Monday, May 02, 2005
The bigger picture
And here i sit, at 3-05 in the morning, complaining about my utter uselessness, lack of commitment and association to weird men.
Who the fuck am i to complain? There are people in this world who live perfectly happy lives, and have faced a hell-of-a-lot more than i ever will. Case in point-
1- A friend who's dad recently passed away because a weird pain in his back ultimately caused the entire left side of his body to become paralysed. After unsucesful surgery, the only power that the man had over his bieng was off blinking once when he meant to imply a "yes" and blinking twice to imply a "no". As if this wasnt bad enough, my friends younger brother is mentally defficient, and his one source of support was his father, to such an extent that the guy is almost normal now, just because of the positive influence of his dad. Now, strapped for cash, my friend is taking a year off from university to work and support the family. Bloody hell.. and i complain about not having a social life that i actually enjoy, and friends that mean nothing.
2- The man who i meet in India when i visit every winter. The son of a news paper hauker, my grandfather lived in slums and had no money for decent food or clothing. From such a bleak beginning, hes now a supreme court lawyer, giving back to a society which gave him nothing much to begin with. And i complain about a zit on my cheek.
3- A friend, whos mother is a schizophrenic, and often hears voices which tell her to leave the house and just dissapear. Ive been on those hunts, searching for where her mother has gone this time, hoping against hope that she hasnt hurt herself. As if that wasnt enough, her elder brother died when he was 17, and she was too young to understand the real implications of what had happened. Now, shes studying at Cambridge, only because Oxford couldnt convince her that it was better. And here i complain about how theirs nothing ever worth eating in my fridge.
4- (On a lighter note.. eventhough the jump from death to this might be a bit too much to ask)
My relative, who has SOMEHOW gone and fallen in love with his maids daughters friend. No joke, hes in love, and REAL love by the way, with the daughter of a truck driver, who earns less than the cost of his last meal at the likes of Okra and Aylanto. Born and bred in London, here for some work, the guy somehow manages to land himself in this. I dont know wether to be incredibly elitist and say, "WHO are you kidding?" or just smile and go along with it. The girl (my mother for some reason named her gul-e-bulbul) is "smoking hot" he claims. And here i complain about a guy who asks for my number. DUDE atleast he can speak english.
5- That guy i met once in Thailand, whos wife ran away with his best friend. (Yes that ACTUALLY happens in REAL life.)
6- The mosquito i just killed. Mundane lives over cold bloody murder? Give me monotony anyday.
There is real pain in this world, and i should just thank whoever the hell is up there for giving me a semi-sane family, a solid support system, and the ability to think, smile, cry and love. Sometimes, when you stop swimming in the endless sea of your shortcomings and come up for air, you realize, that its really NOT that bad, and even if it is, it can be much much worse.
A weird take on it i know, but its all thats keeping me going right now.
Who the fuck am i to complain? There are people in this world who live perfectly happy lives, and have faced a hell-of-a-lot more than i ever will. Case in point-
1- A friend who's dad recently passed away because a weird pain in his back ultimately caused the entire left side of his body to become paralysed. After unsucesful surgery, the only power that the man had over his bieng was off blinking once when he meant to imply a "yes" and blinking twice to imply a "no". As if this wasnt bad enough, my friends younger brother is mentally defficient, and his one source of support was his father, to such an extent that the guy is almost normal now, just because of the positive influence of his dad. Now, strapped for cash, my friend is taking a year off from university to work and support the family. Bloody hell.. and i complain about not having a social life that i actually enjoy, and friends that mean nothing.
2- The man who i meet in India when i visit every winter. The son of a news paper hauker, my grandfather lived in slums and had no money for decent food or clothing. From such a bleak beginning, hes now a supreme court lawyer, giving back to a society which gave him nothing much to begin with. And i complain about a zit on my cheek.
3- A friend, whos mother is a schizophrenic, and often hears voices which tell her to leave the house and just dissapear. Ive been on those hunts, searching for where her mother has gone this time, hoping against hope that she hasnt hurt herself. As if that wasnt enough, her elder brother died when he was 17, and she was too young to understand the real implications of what had happened. Now, shes studying at Cambridge, only because Oxford couldnt convince her that it was better. And here i complain about how theirs nothing ever worth eating in my fridge.
4- (On a lighter note.. eventhough the jump from death to this might be a bit too much to ask)
My relative, who has SOMEHOW gone and fallen in love with his maids daughters friend. No joke, hes in love, and REAL love by the way, with the daughter of a truck driver, who earns less than the cost of his last meal at the likes of Okra and Aylanto. Born and bred in London, here for some work, the guy somehow manages to land himself in this. I dont know wether to be incredibly elitist and say, "WHO are you kidding?" or just smile and go along with it. The girl (my mother for some reason named her gul-e-bulbul) is "smoking hot" he claims. And here i complain about a guy who asks for my number. DUDE atleast he can speak english.
5- That guy i met once in Thailand, whos wife ran away with his best friend. (Yes that ACTUALLY happens in REAL life.)
6- The mosquito i just killed. Mundane lives over cold bloody murder? Give me monotony anyday.
There is real pain in this world, and i should just thank whoever the hell is up there for giving me a semi-sane family, a solid support system, and the ability to think, smile, cry and love. Sometimes, when you stop swimming in the endless sea of your shortcomings and come up for air, you realize, that its really NOT that bad, and even if it is, it can be much much worse.
A weird take on it i know, but its all thats keeping me going right now.
Sunday, May 01, 2005
The A team
I was on a ten minute study break but this stupid page was pmsing so now i only have 2 bloody minutes to write down what i want to.
Oh shit one minute now, ok think fast, fast, fast.
Damn i have nothing to say.
Oh i do have something that i was thinking about yesterday...
Being a female is really painfull. And im not talking about the emotional pain, im talking about the physical variety. Yesterday, i was hit by the fact that i hadnt visited Asha and Asha in a long time. And who are they? My two waxing women who had been missing me as i have conveniently forgotten that women in Pakistani society cannot get away with looking like apes. (Actually that stands true for most societies.. except Italian.. do you know their women just DONT wax their underarms?It just grows and grows and grows.. ok ill stop now) So of i go, not really wanting to, taking a book along so that i could hopefully divert my mind. And i enter, the familiar smell of hair straightening lotions and shampoo greets me, along with the deafening sounds of the hairdryers and the shouts of the owner directing all her "girls" as to who their next appointment was. So in i go, meet the A team (Asha and Asha) and make some cheap excuse for why i havnt been regular. They make me strip into that weird "gown" which is really ODD and could make a super model look like a frumpy 80 year old woman, it does absolutely NOTHING for ones self esteem other than eradicating it completely. I go and sit in one of the ugly white rooms and the process begins, it stings intially, with the hot wax bieng a BIT too hot, and the sting of the removal bieng QUITE brutal, but you get used to it eventually. As usual, they complain about how my skin is too sensitive, and how i need to go get a tan (its sad, but i might be fair, but not quite lovely it seems) and ponder over what the tatoo on my left ankle means. Its in japanese, so i dont know why they even bother, but i let them prattle on, while i muse over how i have a perfect view of their cleavages ( sigh.. im not a lesbian) and TRY to concentrate on what Tenesee Williams is saying. After a couple of funny positions and a couple of "dude that wax is too hot" type comments, im good to go, hairless and happy. I get the eyebrows and upperlip done (its agony.. pure agony) and pay, tip, and run for my life. Im free for another two weeks. I smile inwardly, yay!
Bloody hell, i spent 13 minutes of prime studying time typing about my waxing experience.
The retardation of my priorities scares me sometimes.
Back to the world of keats.
Oh shit one minute now, ok think fast, fast, fast.
Damn i have nothing to say.
Oh i do have something that i was thinking about yesterday...
Being a female is really painfull. And im not talking about the emotional pain, im talking about the physical variety. Yesterday, i was hit by the fact that i hadnt visited Asha and Asha in a long time. And who are they? My two waxing women who had been missing me as i have conveniently forgotten that women in Pakistani society cannot get away with looking like apes. (Actually that stands true for most societies.. except Italian.. do you know their women just DONT wax their underarms?It just grows and grows and grows.. ok ill stop now) So of i go, not really wanting to, taking a book along so that i could hopefully divert my mind. And i enter, the familiar smell of hair straightening lotions and shampoo greets me, along with the deafening sounds of the hairdryers and the shouts of the owner directing all her "girls" as to who their next appointment was. So in i go, meet the A team (Asha and Asha) and make some cheap excuse for why i havnt been regular. They make me strip into that weird "gown" which is really ODD and could make a super model look like a frumpy 80 year old woman, it does absolutely NOTHING for ones self esteem other than eradicating it completely. I go and sit in one of the ugly white rooms and the process begins, it stings intially, with the hot wax bieng a BIT too hot, and the sting of the removal bieng QUITE brutal, but you get used to it eventually. As usual, they complain about how my skin is too sensitive, and how i need to go get a tan (its sad, but i might be fair, but not quite lovely it seems) and ponder over what the tatoo on my left ankle means. Its in japanese, so i dont know why they even bother, but i let them prattle on, while i muse over how i have a perfect view of their cleavages ( sigh.. im not a lesbian) and TRY to concentrate on what Tenesee Williams is saying. After a couple of funny positions and a couple of "dude that wax is too hot" type comments, im good to go, hairless and happy. I get the eyebrows and upperlip done (its agony.. pure agony) and pay, tip, and run for my life. Im free for another two weeks. I smile inwardly, yay!
Bloody hell, i spent 13 minutes of prime studying time typing about my waxing experience.
The retardation of my priorities scares me sometimes.
Back to the world of keats.
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