BoredWorkText

There's not too much to do at work on Sundays, because that's when the issue goes to print and everyone's busy finishing their own work. So I'm given nothing.
Facebook and Twitter are blocked at the office, so I end up doing all that online reading that I never do at home. The New York Times (I HATE the movie reviewers there, more on that in a bit), the New Yorker, and today, I'm reading a bunch of short stories by Neil Gaiman. For those interested, here's The Case of the Four and Twenty Blackbirds, and here's something strange called How to Talk to Girls at Parties. Also, some essays. Over at the New York Times, this article made me toy briefly with the idea of going platinum blonde. However, that idea was one of the few I've ever had to which mom said "See if I let you into my house..."
Sigh. Maybe someday, but not now. I'm over hair colouring for a bit, anyway. I always get tremendously irritated when it starts to fade.
Also from that article, I found out about Tavi Gevinson, the 13 year old fashion blogger.
Oh yes, I've been reading. Random humor pieces and cartoons at the New Yorker (Geoff Sarkins is using Twitter! is hilarious.), articles on how gossip blogging is becoming a career option, reviews of the iPad. Many, MANY photography slideshows, the latest being some by Annie Leibowitz. I absolutely LOVE her work. For the rest of the day, I moaned about how I wanted to be Annie Leibowitz.
I also checked out photos from a photo-book called Love Me. Forgot who it's by, but you should all check it out.
And, of course, I've been reading celeb gossip from when I need to compile the Hollywood pages, and many movie reviews. One thing I've realised? I do NOT like A.O.Scott.
A.O.Scott does movie reviews for the New York Times, and GENUINELY cannot seem to bring himself to LIKE anything, even in the best movies. While it is sadly true that I can't analyse for nuts (I tend to take books and movies at face value the first time round, trying to learn to change that. Case in point, Kafka's Metamorphosis. And I'm pursuing a Lit degree, IRONIC.) this guy...HUNTS for things to put down.
On Friday, I watched Date Night, I was supposed to review it. While it may not have been the best movie I've seen, I really did like it (the company helped, as did Mark Walhberg, shirtless). I wrote a happy review about how much I liked it, and THEN I read this. ARGH. Of course, I felt young and dumb. Maybe he's just past the age where he can enjoy movies like that...who knows, who knows.
I quite want to watch Kickass, by the way, I wonder when it releases.
The movies on my HDD are languishing, so far I've only watched Nick and Norah's Ultimate Playlist. Such a sweet movie.
Mom should be here in a bit to pick me up (The offices work till 6, I'm here till 2 or 3 at the latest) and I have...many browser tabs left to go through...so, toodles.

Off-Road

I may have mentioned that my dad's a total outdoor person, and over the past year, he's built up a pretty good stash of camping supplies. He drives a Prado, which makes all those wonderful rocky areas of Oman much more accessible. Plus, we have tents. Three of them, a two-man tent, a four-man tent and a three-man tent. Dad also happily bought a camping stove and the gas packs, and last year, (sadly without me) my parents have been going camping around Oman. Of course, dad did feel rather bad that I wasn't there with them, so he kinda made it up to me last week.

On Thursday night, and I do mean night (we left at 8.30pm) we went to a wonderful quiet beach an hour's drive away. The parents, me, and some friends of the parents. We got there at 11.30, and the moon, though not full, was huge and bright, so I tried some long-exposure shots, all of which sucked. It was a pretty messy expedition, mom was supposed to cook, but she didn't have time, so we just picked up pav bhaji and some parathas, and we attacked them the minute we chose a spot on the beach. And then, Dad and I had the delightful task of setting up our tent in the dark. We're having pretty strange weather, it's normally boiling, but then there was this sudden breeze that WOULD have blown away the tent...if I wasn't sitting in it.

Mom woke me up at 6.30 to see the sun rising right in front of my face.

It's a pretty cool way to wake up, I guarantee you that.

This is a crop of a slightly bigger photo I took that day...

It is 1.30 am, and...

I think I will go switch on some lights in this dark house, make my way to the fridge and get some cheese.

My mom has finally done what she'd been threatening to do for months, but never did.

She's joined Facebook.

And quite strangely, I'm happy.

Aloneness, solitude and a skewed concept of Home.

Mom left yesterday so now it's just me.

Left here in solitude, aloneness and despondency.

I woke up at noon today, even then I had to drag myself out of bed because I really see no reason to wake up...I mean, what do I DO?

I don't know where to go, and I'm VERY lethargic. I guess I'll end up spending another day, laptop on stomach, reading Transmetropolitan.

Being alone is fine when I'm at home.

This doesn't feel like home.

Home is...

Home is where the heart is? Home is where you hang your hat?

With this whole city changem I'm a bit confused. See, I can call almost anyplace 'home'. I've called my classroom 'home' sometimes. I've used the words 'Let's go home' to refer to hotels over India, and once, I'm sure, even a tent in Manali was 'home' last year.

In Bombay, 'home' can be anywhere. Home is wherever I'm staying the night. We don't have a house in Bombay. When on vacation here, my parents and I shuttle between my paternal family home in Sion and my maternal home in Kandivili. Now that mom's left, I'm staying with my aunt, in Matunga.

Still, Even if I call it 'home', even if the aunt keeps saying 'treat it like home', it's not. Sure, I won't ask for permission before I raid the fridge or turn on the TV or anything, but it doesn't feel like home (yet) somehow.

Home is...I guess home is where I'm comfortable. WHere I can live like I want to, where I can be angry or sad, maybe scream or cry and not feel bad about it. Where there's someone to rant to.

Where my cats are.

I think I'm losing how it feels to live with two cats in the house, and I hate that. I don't want to forget what that's like, living with (albiet emo-tyrant) cats.

All I want...i guess, is a sense of home, something that says, I belong here. In this house. With these people who understand me.

That's gonna take a while.

One week later, the situation is the same. The strike situation, that is. The theatre workshops in college? Those are over too. So now I'm praying even harder for college to start, and FAST.

I've been a bit lethargic and melancholy...I guess a fever-cum-cold-cum infected month-old peircing does that to you....

Mom dragged me to a doctor last week, who sternly told me I was 15 kgs underweight. Pumped me up with all kinda of supplement pills I'm supposed to be taking. This blows. Plus I LOST 4 kgs after I got to Bombay.

So now, I'm quite literally fed up.

C'est la vie, mais ce n'est pas bonne.

It RAINED. And even though I live on the main road in urban jungle, I could smell that smell, the smell of freshly rained-on mud. Bliss.

Of course, it wasn't so blissy when I had to go out and the rain got at my feet and it was all icky and muddy, no, that part I'm not used to. Yet. It will change, I guess.

I'm loving this wonderful breeze though.

Things are looking up, I'm super-psyched about the BA at Jai Hind, because I have THE best subjects. English, french, psych, Literature, Philosophy. There is nothing there that I don't want. Nothing at all.

My best friend is back in Bombay, which means that I once again have to carefully watch my words for latent innuendo. Sigh. Can never drop my guard with him around.

The pissing off part is his Vodafone numbers been deactivated and I'm supposed to meet him today. Sigh.

So yes, life is definitely in an upward direction now....

Mom says I'm much calmer than I was when she first got here. Maybe I am, I suppose. I've been through a lot in that month I was alone here, learnt a lot. And come out a little wiser. And, well, happy, I guess. I'm 17 and right now it fels like I'm on a cliff with the whole world in front of me. I have no stories to tell...yet.

But I will soon have them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We were invited to dinner by dad's IIT friends yesterday night, and from yesterdays conversations I conclude thus : All IITians have the same sense of humor. Sigh. And it IS hereditary.

Frankie says RELAX

Lessons learnt over the past three days fron life, Zaiu, mom and Jai Hind college:

Yours truly cannot survive this city if she doesn't learn how to RELAX.

And no, relax doesn't mean sleep 16 hours a day.

Currently I'm like a coiled spring, waiting, planning, what to do next, where to go next. I FEEL tense. So yes. I need to relax.

I need to run, too.

Today, I suppose, was the final straw. But it's normal Bombay too. I had to wait 3 hours at Jai Hind for the BMM merit list.

In those three hours, I drank a red bull, I paced irritatedly up and down A-road. I sat at marine drive for 10 minutes. I paced some more. I read. I listened to music. I paced.

I grumbled to myself.

Yeah, that's gotta stop.

I finally sat down with someone, I was greeted with the words "Are you all right? You look like you're gonna throw up."

Sigh.

Tomorrow. I start running.

PS. I got BA at Jai Hind, not BMM though. St Xavier's list is out tomorrow.

Tired.

Yes I'm tired.
My long lazy mornings have been replaced with work.
My mom works at the Centre for Special Education located in our school campus, I've mentioned this before. When my exams ended, I'd asked her to call on me if any of the classes were short-handed.
Two weeks into my vacation, just when I was settling into the lazy morning routine, she tells me I'm needed.
So I start at Maushi's class, cluelessly teaching 3rd grade math to kids who are bout 9 or 10. But Maushi's class always has more than enough help, so I switch to Tina's class.
Tina's class has about 7 kids, 6 of whom are autistic, 1 of whom has behavioural problems.
Mornings are taken up by language classes, where everyone goes to the front and answers questions about themselves...with a lot of prompting.
Then Tina has a different lesson every day, yesterday it was fruits, the day before that it was opposites. Heavy and light, big and small.
Then is break (by the time all this is over, it's 10.30) and all the teachers and volunteers settle down to chat as the kids eat.
After that starts work for me. Functional academics. Like, English, Math and all. Really simple stuff. But with these kids, you never know. Sometimes they work fast. Sometimes it takes an eternity, They stare blankly at you while you prompt and prompt and in your head you're begging them to tell you the answer because they KNOW it and you KNOW they know it......
But it's fun work. It's better than uselessly lying around at home.
A couple of days ago, I had to use these foam shapes to teach math to someone. They were rather tempting to play with....

Meanwhile, yesterday was mom's birthday. We normally try new restaurants on birthdays, this time we landed at a place called Kargeen, very well known, but none of us had ever been there, because we thought it was mostly arabic food and sheesha.

Yeah right.

Firstly, it's a beautifully done outdoor place, almost like a fantasy at night, with glass lanterns and strings of lights, a fountain and trees. The food is OUT of this world. I ordered a Philadelphia sandwich, Mushrooms and cream and onions in a baguette, and had a tough time finishing it, it was so so so good....

I must go back there sometime...

wowie.

Also meanwhile, I'm reading Doctors by Erich Segal. Read it, it's brilliant.

Read in the news recently: Condoms and safe sex are not even mentioned in the new sex-ed modules being planned by govt. The plan is, instead, to advocate abstinence and being faithful to a single partner.

Agreed, abstinence is the best way to avoid STDs and pregnancy, but, well, it's obvious not too many people are going to go for it. Sex is no longer the taboo, confined only to the bedroom and the mind. Once again, we're finding out just how good it is.

Monogamy, si, a noble idea. Mom gave me huge long lecture recently about how we just get into relationships for the fun, how we should focus on our lives first and not on relationships, seeing that they take up a lot of time and energy.

She's right, I suppose, and that's the reason I'm a bit scared of relationships as opposed to fling-things. Though, as kay sniffily told me, a lot of people don't share my opinion.

So yes, all this is very good and all, very good that they're FINALLY introducing sex-ed (god knows we need it....). It might be a bit giggly and embarassing at first, but it'd be infinite help, seeing that a lot of us learn about sex and other things related either from porn or from friends who are VERY open with conversation, or online on those sites that ISPs love to block. Those of us who don't, are rather confused, though no one admits it.

Sex ed would stop men in their twenties writing to the Mumbai mirror sexpert with queries like "Will kissing my girlfriend on the lips make her pregnant?" Yes, I've seen this and similar ones more than twice in the past fortnight. The reply is almost invariably a frustrated "educate yourself."

But 'tis rather strange that the words "condom" and "safe sex" get not even an honourable mention .........My tenth grade bio book went only as far as to mutter shamefacedly about copulation. One word. that's it. Our bio teacher didn't even do that part properly. but then again, that was Bio.

My point being that maybe we should be taught everything there is to know, and we should choose the path we wish to tread.

Abstinence, any takers?

Apparently not, and not all thaaaat many for borth control either.....the proof lies in our population.

Through the lens of the butt-lazy Shutterbug

Butt-lazy because I don't take the camera out often. And when I do use my Fuji, it's mostly frustation and desperation because its one of those digital SLRs and a bit on the heavy side, so I get camera shake. However......

I won my Fuji in a photography competition, and this is the pic that did it. Since I used an analog auto-focus, I can honestly say it was a bloody lucky shot. Taken in the souvenir store at a fort.

One of my absolute fave pics of mom. There, it is true, the best pics of you come when you aren't posing for them. I forget which camera I took this with.......

at muttrah souq with the fuji. Mom was buying the locket. I need to work on camera shake.

Ok, this was with my Dad's Canon...not my fuji...A close up of a tulip from a bouquet mom got sent for her b'day.

More will come. After Manali and mumbai, definitely......

The point being?

“Whatever you say about this new principal”, mom told me, “he’s the only one, and there have been three since I joined the Centre, to actually greet, shake hands with, and hug the children”
Ok sir, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. You’re a good guy, I see…

I took advantage of an impromptu sleepover at Sneh’s on Thursday to enjoy their dishTV connection. NDTV was on that day, with a debate about the IPL cheerleaders, whether they should be banned.
“Their obscene costumes appeal to the viler base instincts of the Indian male!” spluttered one of the participants, “And they take attention away from the game! I mean, we want to watch cricket, someone hits a four, but instead of a replay there’s these girls in skimpy skirts!”
Yet another participant said maybe the costumes were a bit…on the invisible side, but cheerleading as such is not a bad thing and not really distracting.
Hmm, I don’t think the guy holding up the “I’m here to watch the girls NOT THE CRICKET” poster shares that opinion.
And besides, said the more sympathetic participant, what about the costumes worn by dancers in Bollywood movies? Isn’t it almost the same? All right, maybe some of the cheerleading costumes are a bit low in the neck and high in the leg….maybe whoever hired them should respect Indian sensibilities a little and get costumes that cover the midriff…..But cheerleading as such, not bad. They do their job well, these girls.
Almost as if to prove a point, a song-teaser of Tashan shows up, with Kareena in hot pants and a tiny sport bikini top thing, grooving away.

“So what’s IPL all about really?” I ask Sneh. Having no cable TV, no Pehla, no jingalala, no dishTV, it kinda blocks me out a bit.
“Nothing man,” she replies tetchily. “Players ke boli lagate hain. They auction off players to all these industrialists and people who have too much money who want to form a team. It’s all about money.”
“So it’s nothing to do with place really?” I ask.
“No” her sis says, “The senior players, they play for their region, like Sachin’s playing for Mumbai, but the other players are sold to the highest bidder.”
Yesterday morning, on NDTV at Sneh’s, I saw something about “Will IPL get better ratings than Primetime television”
So what, really, is the point of having this tournament? Because the whole thing seemed to me like an irrational video game thing. Are we having the tournament just for the ratings? Or for the money? Or what? Once again we see this fragile world built on a shaky foundation of money, cash, moolah, prosperity, that makes this world go round, it seems.
The class (my friends, those I talk to now) disagree. When IPL discussion started I was greeted with a barrage of conflicting opinions… “promotes harmony among the team players, Brett Lee and Sreesanth get along so well now, didn’t you see that” … “Regionality promoted!!” (This was Sneh again)… etc.
Today after tuts a friend got a text, Kolkata night riders had won today. She hadn’t wanted them to win, she said “Shah Rukh Khan overdoes things.”
The mind boggles. SRK now owns a cricket team? O_o

Also seen yesterday morning at Sneh’s, making me think at first “Hey, I wanna audition!” but later giving me thoughts alomg the lines of soul-selling : MTV Roadies 5.0. Now I like Roadies, kinda. I watched a bit of Roadies 4 when I was in Delhi-Bombay year before last, and I kinda liked it. Sneh’s sis later informed me that Roadies was a copy of some other show. I guessed Fear Factor. Which I greatly enjoy. Much more than Roadies, now. The difference between the two? Politics, politics, politics. Who goes ahead on Fear Factor is solely determined by how well they do the tasks. No vote-outs, no conspiracies. On the Roadies episode I watched, their ‘money task’ was to eat various Thai ‘delicacies’. Worms, frogs, locusts, squid, sea snakes. Ugh. For phenomenal amounts. I’d rather not have the money. Really. I mean…(yeah, even on Fear Factor I don’t like the tasks involving eating gross).
The ‘advantage task’ was a Muay Thai boxing match (now that I’d enjoy. Really.). It was only after 6 hours training that the Roadies found out they’d be fighting each other.
“Think about what’s more important here,” said Vijay, the MC, “Your survival on this show, or your ‘dosti’” God, I hated that. The way he said it. Because here it doesn’t matter who you hurt, you just need to get ahead. Roadies seems cool on the surface, all those daredevil tasks, the bikes, but what I couldn’t ever do is the metaphorical grasping hands just to pull the other down, I couldn’t befriend someone knowing I might have to betray her sometime in the near future.
Nihal was the one most expected to get voted out, but in the end, it was Varun who got unlucky.
Nihal grinned triumphantly into the camera. “You might have beaten me up today bacchu, but I did the politics.”

“People say such great things about the youth of India”, Sneh mutters “what to do if the youth is only like this??”
Sigh. Whatever happened to honour?
Money talks. I wish it’d shut up.

I wish I could see into the future.....

My mom flopped down in a chair today afternoon and said "You know what happened in my class today??"
I prepare myself for something unusual, mom's special ed class has the youngest students in the Centre for Special Education that's on my school campus, so there's almost always something going on there, and almost everyday someone has to clean up something......

So I asked her, "Nah, tell me...."

" J got her period today.........."
Ouch.
Shit.
J is 8 and a half years old. She's autistic.
" She's almost like a baby, she is a baby" Mom said, "She doesn't understand anything...."
I pondered.
A lot of people feel sad when they see the kids....it's no use feeling sad....because the kids aren't sad....they're happy, they're pure unadultrated joy like you can hardly find anywhere else.....
And there are so many things, so many little miracles that make mom's day, and that's what they work for, the little miracles....

J, who earlier never talked, crawls up to Mom with a bubble wand and says "Blow."
That's the one miracle I've heard about....but there are more....

And then there are the situations that always make you laugh....
like B, a 5 year old boy who can talk the hind leg off a donkey, very articulate in Hindi and English, And boy, the stuff he says....
Last month, he told Tina (his teacher) that he had promised to be bad for a whole week. And he lived up to his promise, running out of class at the least opportunity, struggling ("I will stuggle, I will stuggle") when they dragged him back, tantrums, etc etc etc.......

There's A, he's, I don't know, 7? He's beautiful. In 10 years, he'll be a total hottie. He's autistic too...but he's great, he talks, he works when worked with, and his mum, she's the most proactive mum I've ever seen....she's done so much for her son and all the other Mothers who come to the centre with their kids.....

Oh, it's a great place to work and all, you just need plenty of patience, muchas optimism, and Hope. Above all, hope. And you learn to see the joy in the little things. In the end that's what matters, innit?

On Impulse

So today we initiated Tina into the marvel that is Muttrah Souq.
Damn I love that place, I could stay there forever, just as long as I had my camera. But sadly no camera today. Boo.
One day I'm going to go back, on my own, and explore every little alley and lane, and open my eyes and look at the place with the developing eye of a photographer. And then I'm going to come home and be happy with my work.....
So we'd gone there to buy a gift for someone, a colleague of mom's and Tina's......it's like a little treasure hunt in there.....you never know what you'll find....and once the doors of a shop vanish behind you, you never know if you'll be able to find your way there the next time.....every few metres a new alley opens up a bhandaar of possibilities......
I've mostly been here at night, it adds to the mystique of the place....but there is something to be said about it when it's in blazing sun. I looked up at the ceiling to see a glass mosaic with the sunlight filtering through, I look around me, I see silver and stones in every corner, sacks heaped with spices, piles of shawls, mojhdis in a neat row, abayas, telescopes, jewelry and curios handed down through generations.......cheap toys, in fact this is one of the best places to come for them, mom buys dolls for her special ed. class here, mostly.
It hurts to get out of here.....
So this shop we went into, it has these beautiful lockets and all, semi-precious stones in an open setting in silver, lovely floral designs and all, as well as strings of stones, little studs, rings........as mom picked out her choice, I slid up to the counter and enquired about the possibility of getting my ears pierced....
"Peerbucks," the man told me. "5-6 shops down, in this line."
Off I went, mom following....and then I found it, an unassuming shop with a picture of a piercing gun on the door.
In I go, mark the spot with a dot of ink, squeeze mom's hand and shut my eyes tight as Tina regales us with a story about how some guy in Rajasthan pierced her ear with a hot needle....
Prepare to feel excruciating pain that will make me scream and scram...
and open my eyes as the stud rams into my lobe..
"That's IT???"
And we go home, a stud richer.....4 rials poorer.....but happy.....

Snip-Snip, et voila!!

Here we go again....
Every 6 months or so I get utterly bored with my hair, however long and beautiful it may be. It is but natural. I've had my hair at every length possible, right from guy-short to midway down my back. And it grows REALLY fast.....like last year, it was really short, like I almost looked like a guy, and now it's midway down my back.
At least, it was, till a few hours ago.....
Me and Tina, both being supremely fed up with our hair, got appointments to go and get it cut together. Mom came along as our means of transport and to may-----be just get her hair cut. Too darn long, she said, it's a pain to wash. But we had just two appointments, and nothing was sure.
So now Tina has beautiful waves and I have a short straight cut that goes midway down my neck. good. It's different. It's sophisticated and uncharacteristically un-messy. Whoot.
So after admiring each others hair, we asked the stylist if she'd do mom's hair without an appointment. She agreed, and mom, rather apprehensive, sat in the hot-seat.

After untying her hair from its customary long braid and combing it out, Flavy (the stylist) gave mom's hair a rather wistful look and said, "Madam, why do you want to cut your hair? You know, I normally don't cut hair that's this long....."
This brought out a couple of the other salon ladies who looked longingly at mom's hair, all draped over the chair like a sheet, and berated her for wanting to cut it, 'coz most girls pray for long thick hair like mom's, and here's this silly lady wanting to cut it off......

Now mom's always had long hair. Really long. Like, all the way down to her butt. And she NEVER leaves it open, it's always in this long long braid, which the kids she teaches sometimes enjoy pulling. And it's been 16 years since she last cut it. Well, she did ask me to trim it some 5-6 years ago, but I kinda botched it up. So doesn't count. And, yes, the first time she's got it cut in a salon since 3rd grade. Big shock to Tina and me.....
She just wanted it trimmed a bit, but I stepped in, told Flavy to cut it a bit shorter, like 5 inches below her shoulders, and give it some layers and all.....

So that's what she did. 15 minutes of the short stylist lady buzzing around mom's head.....and what we see is a total transformation. I see my mother with her hair open for the very first time.
Ooh, that's definitely getting some good reactions tomorrow.....
For me, it's like a big thing. Mom leaves hair open, Mom's hair is not in the braid that I've gotten so used to seeing my entire life....
Ooh, I wonder what dad'll say......
For mom it means it's less of a pain to maintain.
Huh.
So we're all quite happy with our hair now.
But mom, well, what can I say....I'm proud of you.
Now if we could just get you to henna it..........lol.

Live your last Day.

Yeah, my phone's gone.
For what?
for receiving a message which can be classified as 'tres tres personal question' or 'unnecessary shit' or 'how can you get messages like this??'
yeah, from a guy.
Dear Lord almighty. They read everything.
Breach of trust, know your limits, that kinda thing.
Not good.
Not happy. At all.
The heck, he's my best friend, I gotta be that open with one person, just one....
Not right, shouldn't be thinking like this, they say....
Huge argument.
Something happened again today morning, went a bit overboard again.....A bit over the lines again....It wasn't about the phone anymore, it was everything else, it was the way I am...
Why can't I just be happy huh? I have everything. Why not happiness?
I told mom today in the car, after I'm 20 I'm gonna live each day like it's my last....
Why after 20, she said?
Ok, but how can I do it now? there's something in me.....just not happy.
How would you do it if you were in Mumbai, in Dharavi? No phone, nothing.....
I dunno.....I'd find a broken water pipe and dance in it I suppose....
Then why can't you be happy now? It's just a state of mind you know....it just takes something small...
Phine, then. I'm gonna change. No more psychogiri...Live happy, turn the little sad switch off.
Find something to be happy about, every day.
Live like you're gonna die in an hour.
Sodden mess, I tell ya.
Question: How do you release your anger?

Arm yourself with chocolate, girl....the exams are coming....

Yes, they're back, the scourge of studentia......
Ugh......
It's ok, I'm surviving....
As mom laughingly observed, whenever exams approach, I need chocolate. Lots of it. Last year, I ate only brownies (very very dark ones, so dark I was the only one who could tolerate them) throughout feb and March. And I LOST weight. Impossible. my metabolism is tres tres weird, I tell ya......
This time, I haven't made brownies yet, so the addiction has now turned to chocolate croissants. And muffins. And coffee, sometimes.
Darn these exams.....Wish I could fast-forward through them.
On a different track, today I feel lighter than I have in ages and ages. I feel free. I'm happy.

The Dark side of me.....

The darkest i've ever been through.
on my guard all the time. can't let the tears fall even though i want to, so much. can't let my hands tremble as i type. can't tell anyone except you.
you're my crutch, my support and i don't like it, one of these days i'll have to cast you away, cut away all the supports and stand on my own at last. but not now. later. tomorrow.
but today i have to put a smile on my face even though i'm shredded inside. can't let the tears flow, can't let myself go. have to step back over the line.
but there will be a day, i'll meet you and then i'll let go and the tears will flow. you don't know how much i need it, you don't see how much you help me, you don't know what you mean to me.......
i have to push you away.....
never been like this before, don't wanna be like this again.
disturbed. the whole house is disturbed. she says she'll take time to get over it, it's not that easy. he says don't let it get to you.
i'm so sorry, so sorry, i'm not just leaning on you right now, i'm falling on you, falling like never before, i'm crazy, psychotic, i wanna go away from it, i wanna be happy. why did i do it? why am i putting all this here fr all to see instead of in the book i bought for this purpose?
i dunno, maybe i want you to see, maybe this is the hand i'm reaching out with.
i don't know what's going on anymore......
the thoughts, the words, they're all just flowing......
i did the best, the longest and the fastest beach run today and i felt better, i felt it all flowing out me.....
felt the coffee flow into me.....i think it's doing this to me.....
why did i do it?
and now that i did it why can't i get over it?
i still don't get why it's so bad, i think, but i feel stained, i feel like i'm marked, what i've done has left scars which will take a million tears, a million beach runs and a million hugs to clear away.
i have to put on the mask of happiness, of the myst that i always am and have been.
i can't break.
just typing and typing, where are the words coming from, is it even helping???
i need you i think, i don't want to need you.
i'm so sorry. so sorry for all the pain i've caused you. so sorry for everything. i'm crying now, but no the tears can't flow and she cant see them, shouldnt se them nobody should.
i think i'm over the line.
this is bad.
i'm pathetic, i'm in self pity, i'm in the self centred thing, why is it always about me me me and my emotions??? i am not my emotions i nee to get out of this. i have to cut the cords i have to let it go away.
make it go away.
why why why can't i step away and leave the emotions and the scars behind?? yesterday i thought it would be so easy to let go but today it's hard, i don't wanna be like this. i don't wanna break i don't want to be weak.
i am not weak.
never ever call me that.
i want to be strong. the tears are going away. my hands type i don't know why. i shouldn't put this up but i know i will.
i have to stop typing.
i have to go away. the more i type the more i'll feel the self pity.
look at the world love, there's people out there in a worse condition than you and they're happy, you can be too.
it's all in your mind pick out the pieces, throw them away.
put it all together.
happiness is coming back.
i'm going to stop typing.
NOW!!!

Things i never knew...........

An offhand internet remark led to an angry message to me, thus sending me into a blazing fury first thing in the morning of what was gonna be an absolutely wonderful day.
It's still gonna be a wonderful day, the morning's gone past....
huh, a friend was mad at me over a misunderstanding, and i was worked up and blazing mad, and mom was trying to help with the sage advice, how "this is why relationships suck" and "guys are like that and they can't handle pressure and even though they have tough exteriors they're all senti inside"
she's perfectly right, of course. sorry to the guys.

and then when i remained blazing mad she started telling me about these friends of hers in college and halfway through her story i realised something...........
mom never talks about her college friends.

i said as much and then she said that in any conversation its just about me and dad, always me and dad, so sooner or later mom just got used to it and stopped talking.....
you know, that kind of thing makes me feel really bad............
and then she started talking, really talking, about how everytime she switched schools she' lose track of all her friends because they had no internet that time, and no phone, and no one really bothered to keep in touch.....she had friends of course but no friendships as intense as what i have.....(until she met kay's mom, of course.....they met at haffkine insti, and coincidentially landed up as NRIs out here in muscat, and thus started a 22 year friendship that stuck no matter what.)

it was pretty darn sentimental. at times like this i really have no idea what to say......my mom's so beautiful sometimes.....and yet sometimes that beauty fades into anger, or a sad smile, or frustration, or something............

man.............i wish i could be aware of what i do and what i say to her...............
mom, i love you, always will.

Gaaah and aaargh

yes, that's how i'm feeling.
my head and my stomach are doing a wild tango.....
my mind has gone on vacation.......
and i'm stuck here trying to figure out what to do with my life.

My last exam's tomorrow, but that's not enough...................i have practicals directly after that...........and in the middle of the whole thing i have an athletics meet.....and we are so not ready to run!!

huh, and my mom's going off to dubai on the 6th, that's thursday morning.....she'll be back on saturday late night.
my dad will be here.
kay's parents won't.mom's going with them.to dubai.
so great.
so it's actually kay who's gonna have the problem, especially as she can't stay with me, she has to keep her dog company. so she wants me to stay with her at night.
sigh.
i don't know what i'll do.
sigh.
i did go to train yesterday......all it's left me with is an ache in the thighs and an inadequate feeling.and lots of international messages.

Good Job!

Funny how my best theories come when i'm talking to mom......
See, we were talking about karma, rather SHE was talking about karma....
i was wondering if kids who obeyed their parents got further in life, were more successful and generally happier than kids who didn't....and she said yeah! Its because of the karma!
so then i grumbled about karma and if you do a good deed with ulterior motives you couldn't possibly get good karma but she said you could because a good deed is a good deed either way.

[Note here: My mom and me are like a sine curve superimposed on a cos curve, that is to say we have widely opposite beliefs intersecting at a few points. The intersections i cannot recall, the opposites mostly concern things like religion, premarital sex, morals, monogamy and relationships.]

so then she said doctors take money for practice but still get karma. personally i think if they practised for free they'd be out on the streets....
Anyway, the idea struck me, whatever you do, whatever goddamned crap job you're doing, its doing someone some good.
Doctors, engineers, etc...thats obvious....
Advertising? Helps out companies....
Ah. Prostituion. Now, with my warped mind, i could argue that prostitution does a lot of good to desperate pervs who have commitment problems...also to married men who're sick of their wives....
i think.
So do prostitutes get good karma? hmmm that's a tough one....
Answer me that one.....
The Myst fades out....