Not a Morning Person

There are mornings when you feel old. When you feel like you've understood the secrets of the world--some of them, at least--and you just want to walk up to your mother and ask her what she was thinking, bringing you into this mess. When you feel like you've lost yourself, but also found yourself after years, maybe for the first time. And it all only makes as much sense to you as it does to anybody else who isn't privy to your every thought.

On mornings like this one, when you've chosen to stay up all night, pretending to give meaning to your existence and worn yourself out; and further pushed yourself to get back into your exercise regime; and then tried to round off the health routine by having that rare breakfast, your first in two weeks... on such mornings, you feel worn thin, stretched out, left with little idea of who you are and what the hell you're doing on this little planet, because even sleep won't come (and every damn person chooses to knock on your door to ask irrelevant questions and present you with bills that are not yours and you are too broke to pay anyway). Thoughts crowd in, too heavily, and you want to drill a hole into your temples just to relieve the pressure--if only that wouldn't be so fatal.

Why are there mornings when your present seems to define your whole past and future and everything about you gets washed in the same greyness until you feel like there has never been and will never be anything, anyone other than this moment and the you in it--so dull, so drab, so washed-out and lacking in any kind of interest, a ghost who pretends she is living but knows, always knows somewhere that this is not what living is? When did that realization dawn, that you cannot take your cues of living from others, that you must make this frightening journey into the abyss of yourself if you want to find any kind of lasting meaning?

The abyss yawns
beckoning
seducing
come-to-me-you=know-me-you-are-me;
and I swim
into it (though I
don't know how)
without torch,
oxygen, map.

So clearly is god beckoning, from the other end, telling you that you needn't look in there, forget it, the looking has been done for you and the answers have been piled up, compiled neatly and placed in a way that would inspire and please the Virgo in you. And there's more... there are paths already trodden a million times by a million travellers, tried and tested... Yet they all seem to fit badly, entirely lack in imagination, are uninspiring and just plain not for you. A morning like this can drive you up the wall with confusion; if you weren't stuck in this rut, you'd probably jump up and do something really crazy just to prove you can.

And then just like that, you lose interest in mornings like these.

Undone

What if you stood before an enchanting lake on a hot summer day, a cool, enticing lake, and yet don't step in? All you have to do is strip off your clothes (there's no one looking, and you don't care anyway) and plunge yourself into the delicious water and you know you will forget the harshness of the sun, the thirst of your skin, the dust that coats you. You can imagine the water enfolding you in its embrace and you know instinctively that you can trust that you will enjoy every minute of it. Yet, you stand at the water's edge, looking in, looking around, half-longing, yet holding back.

It's not that you're afraid. You know you can probably swim the depths of this lake. Well, you're not really sure, the water has frightened you in the past--always that fear of drowning. Yet you know that you need to try before you know for sure whether you can swim or not. The only way to confirm or disprove your own fears is by facing them. Yet that's not why you hesitate. Sometimes you enjoy facing those fears, there is a certain excitement to that sense of drowning, almost running out of breath, before you break the surface and remember to kick your feet and move your arms and fill your lungs with oxygen, eyes stinging with water, yet unable to close them to the light that proves that you're alive. No, a little fear of drowning could never dissaude you from the rewards of a swim on a summer day.

But the fact is that you would rather stand here and stare at the sparkling water. There is a hint of a quiet breeze rippling the surface of the lake on the otherwise quiet afternoon, but it doesn't touch you--only stillness all around. The sun is beating down and the grass is letting out that hot humid smell of summer green. Insects dance in a huge column in areas over the grass. And the water beckons. And somehow, this moment is enough. It's enough to know that the water is there without having to throw yourself into it. It's enough to imagine the depths of that pool, imagine being deep in its belly and look up to see the sun streaming in, oddly distorted and pretend you're a fish. It's enough to imagine all the pleasures of finally escaping the dreadful, sultry day and giving in to the beauty of the water. Somehow there is enjoyment in knowing that this is all the moment will be, that it will remain unfulfilled. Yes, this is enough, just this feeling of anticipation.

Not everything must reach its logical or desirable conclusion, must it?

The Hostel Mess Cheatcode

Perhaps it’s best to start with explanations. A lot of things in life might be more pleasant if an explanation preceded them instead of us gamboling through events like happy things that gambol (?) blindly and get really confused about why water’s wet, love is just not enough (no matter how much really quite awesome songs may claim otherwise), the chicken crossed the road, etc. Life might be a little more enjoyable if it were a little more like this post is going to be and a little less like trying to learn a game of cards you don’t know by observing a bunch of Bengalis playing (i.e., completely incomprehensible, and just when you feel like you’re maybe getting the hang of it, somebody wins and you realize the goal was the opposite of what you thought, and most of the time, you don’t get what people are saying). So. Explanations are in order. Two fact about me should do, I think.

Fact 1: I am lazy. Like really. Like it pisses people off kind of lazy. But as you shall soon see, laziness is not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s quite a lot of work. So, on to…

Fact 2: I tend to over-think things. This, combined with a slight tendency to geekiness and mild OCD of the pattern-finding variety, makes things interesting.

So the explanations are done. (But I now realize that the whole explanation thing is futile because explanations make less sense than the things they explain before the things they explain unfold. Wait, I think I might have said something profound. Let’s examine that… Ah, never mind, too lazy. So, moving on.)

I live in a hostel that’s built like a pyramid. No, its construction didn’t (exactly) involve slave labour and it’s not full of dead people and fabulous wealth (snort) so the pyramid thing refers to what you first thought it referred to, before I distracted you with irrelevant details–the shape. Each floor is slightly smaller than the one below it. I have no idea what the architectural significance of this is, but since I live in the second floor, this creates many, many puzzles and challenges for me. One of the challenges revealed to me that if I were a civilization all by myself, I’d be in what Douglas Adams calls the Survival stage, for the challenge is, “How do I get to the mess to eat?” This may seem like a trivial question. But this is where I ask you to turn your attention to Facts 1 and 2.

Living in the second floor means I expend a lot of energy climbing up and down stairs. And to have to do this for every meal and water refill creates unspeakable anguish for my lazy side. To reduce the monotony and make myself feel better, I decided to over-think things. Fun. So, there are many ways in which you can reach the mess from my room. Cross the corridor, take the stairs at the end, climb down two floors, exit. Cross half the corridor, take the stairs in the middle, cross the other half at the ground floor, exit. Take the stairs in front of my room, cross the corridor at the ground floor, exit. The last option might sound good because the stairs are right in front of me, but the fact is, this is out because it would involve crossing the whole of the ground floor, which, in the pyramid structure, has the longest corridor. So, the first option? Nope. Wrong again. It IS in fact the shortest route, but there are problems. The staircase at the end of each corridor (except on the ground floor) plays host to a lovely little thing called the common dustbin. This is generally a huge plastic drum, and is often filled with… well, let’s say the cats and flies love it. It’s smelly and quite effective in killing any appetite that dares to pass it without the answer to its impossible riddles and it also has to the power to send any satisfied appetite to go commit suicide. The ancient Egyptians, had they met Mr Dustbin, would not have bothered with pressurized acid and such to keep marauders out of their tombs.

It took me just two weeks to figure it out, and the funny looks I get from other, more unadventurous, weary dinner-time travellers were answered with looks of smug superiority. I had the keen intelligence, the courage, the perseverance to figure it out! All you have to do is:  Take the middle stairs, thus cleverly avoiding the dreaded Dustbin, cross the other half of the first floor corridor (which is still shorter than the ground floor’s, ha!), take the stairs at the end of the corridor, exit and reach your destination, thus achieving high score of sheer genius.

And then, you go eat mess food.

Sigh. Maybe all we do need is love :D

*crosses arms, sulks*

I refuse to allude to this silly little event today that everyone else is talking about, especially since it's such a non-event. Talk about humans getting all worked up over a human fabrication, created just to mark another human fabrication (time). Of course, it might be true that nobody but humans are going to get worked up over their own inventions... But still!

See, it's rarely that there is any internal unity in this so-called unit of time. Our life doesn't naturally fall into a pattern and fit into our units. Units are, after all, just arbitrary and if you get enough people to agree that "poop" is a new unit that measures the... er... quantity of bad writing in the world--wham! You have a brand new unit. You would have news reporters saying things like, "In this quarter (there's another annoying unit again!) we've seen at least 45 Poops being generated in one blog alone. That works out to a nearly 65% increase in Poop levels since the last quarter."

So really, what's all this hullabaloo over the-unit-that-shall-not-be-named? Is it really an occasion to be all be all happy and new? Our lives have changed in completely nonsensical ways in these 12... sub-units... (Damn, I'm really beginning to regret having made that dramatic statement in the beginning of this post--the one about not mentioning that thing I said I wouldn't mention!) with no respect for our attempts to order our existence. So you see, I refuse to allude to that silly little non-event.

I will, however, party.

Happy Human Fabrication!

P.S.: Whoever points out that I seem to have spent a considerable amount of time and space not-alluding to "it" will be studiously ignored.

Some more streams of conscious nonsense

Is it truly courage if you do something difficult when you're forced to? If you have no choice in the matter, how is it courageous? I mean, what's the other alternative that you could choose that would be not courageous? I'm not being (very) judgemental of anyone here. In fact, I've been congratulated myself for my "courage" in such situations and I've always found it odd. The situation is thrust upon you and it's either do what you have to or... well, die, I guess. And that's not really an option, is it?

On the subject of courage, why is it that some people always, always prefer to run away from problems rather than face them while some others just can't leave problems alone?

What's really fascinating (and scary) about meeting new people is that you realize how much you don't know. A huge number of facts, to start with, and let's not even get started on life experiences--the other person might just take these for granted but you've probably never even dreamt of them. It's at times like these that you're left wondering how you could ever have believed there's one single, shiny white Truth that you can possibly reach out and grasp.

I seriously can't decide if subjectivity is a good thing or bad. I'm not denying that it's an inescapable fact of life. Even the most seemingly objective things ultimately do have a subjective basis. And subjectivity is wonderful when it comes to any kind of art or sometimes, even the sciences. But when it comes to personal choices, it's a whole different question. Most of our heads have been filled with certain ideals, I think, which depend on being "objective". And when you're forced to make difficult personal choices, do you let go of these and say "Screw objectivity: My life, my views!"? Or do you stick to "objectivity" and feel miserable? Often, it's an uneasy compromise.

The worst part about growing up is that it makes you realize how foolish innocence was... And the worst thing about the past is that you just can't change it, no matter how hard you wish.

Come on, work with me here!

Ahem. So we all need a little bit of change. Life can get so monotonous. Doing the same things over and over everyday... Looking at the same faces, the same books, the same... Ok, ok, I'll get to the point.

See, here's the thing. I like trying new things (not like THAT, you dirty minds!). I mean, new things especially if it is related to technology, the internet, that way. And in my defense, this blog has been going for nearly 3 and a half years now! (Ok, ok, I killed it once in that duration and haven't been too regular either. But...) Everyone needs a change, don't they! (ok, I'm beginning to whine, I know. Time to cut to the chase.)

http://pawpaint.wordpress.com

So there, I said it. The new address. Admittedly, it's still experimental. So you can either adjust your blogroll (if you have me blogrolled) or just keep that in mind. Pretty please?

I wuv wordpress! (aw, I love you too, Blogger. But you know, people change, move on. These things happen... *excuses continue, fade out*)

Emptying My Brain

The next time someone tells me that Tamil is a difficult language to learn, I'll thank them and feel flattered. After all, I must be pretty smart seeing that I learned most of this "difficult" language by the time I was four!

How do some people talk literally for hours on the phone?! My roommate holds a Master's Degree in this and just listening to her yak at all times of the day and night exhausts me. Imagine holding a phone to your ear ALL the time. Or talking for hours to someone whose facial expressions you cannot see. Creepy.

It's strange to think that no matter what opinion I express, someone somewhere at some time disagrees with/disapproves of/violently opposes every word. So why this obsession with political correctness and being agreeable?

I feel all weird and eerie if I think about the world getting wiped out suddenly tomorrow. No one would know. There wouldn't even be a question of caring. Even the most self-centred people would not (be able to) give a damn. And even if we whip up a frenzy about the world ending today, when it does, well, all in vain, eh?

I'm sometimes freakishly possessive. I feel like people, books, movies, even SMELLS belong enclusively to me. Hmm. Weird. And creepy again.

We, as a species, are all morbidly (if unconsciously) obsessed with death and yet seem experts at ignoring this fact. Born astride the grave indeed. Existentialists rock!

Vina nooru kanaavum nooru, vidai solladi...

What is aliens are all around us but we have no clue cos we don't have the right kind of senses to... sense them? It might explain a lot of unexplained phenomena. An alien could be reading this right now and pointing at me and laughing. And now reading <--- that and frowning. And reading <--- that and... ok, this can go on forever. I'll stop.

Brain transplants would be, like, todally coo-uhl!

Would I be a wimp if I wanted to wear gloves already? Freaking frozen fingers!

A dimly lit room seems pitch dark as soon as your enter it and in just half a minute you wonder how you ever thought it was dark. I'm sure there's a deep and significant metaphor in there but too lazy to look for it now.

Why is it so hard to stop looking for approval, either peer or societal or parental or familial or whatever-al, even when you know in your head it's stupid and you must be who you are?

Darn mosquitos!

There's something strangely fair in the fact that life isn't fair, you know?

Life is absurd. The sheer absurdity of the fact that I'm sitting here and pressing down on these weird protrusions that in turn produce some weirdly shaped marks on a weird-looking flat surface which stand for some chemical impulses in my head is absurd enough. Add to that the fact that you are looking at these weird-shaped marks and they stand for something in your head which may or may not be what it stood for in my head. Uh.

It's past midnight. No wonder I'm treading the thin line between randomness and sheer nonsense. G'night then.

P.S.: Brain nice and empty now! :)

Waning Lyrical...

(... As opposed to waxing, get it? Sigh. I must stop explaining my jokes.) You may ignore this if you a like. Just a little parody for my amusement...

I've just eaten my fill and
I'm ravanous
I've just woken and
I'm already sleepy

every hour I'm away seems
like a second.
the minute I return
stretches for hours

your eyes are like endless pools of warm honey
but really, closer to molten lava in hell
your voice is dark and smooth like chocolate
or rather like a blackboard when nails rake it.

serious symptoms of an illness, you'd think
but my love, these are symptoms
of the long-awaited cure:
I'm falling out of love!

Fun Things (and Not-so-fun things) I've Learned In Recent Times

So yes, the summer has been upon us for a couple of months and, unfortunately, as summers tend to be, I have started LEARNING things. Sigh. An unfortunate side-effect of being utterly vetti I guess. It's most disappointing. I never went about arbitrarily LEARNING things when I was in college! Why should I now, when the days should be spent in decadent wastefulness? Sigh again. Anyway, here are these great lessons:

- Celebrity Crushes Are Fun!
Beside the garden variety everyday crush, which is often painful and almost always embarrassing, there is the Special Realm of the Celebrity Crush (hmm, what's with the capitals, you ask? No idea!) Now, the thing about the CC is the ridiculous ease of accessibility to the object of your interest/affection/desire/lust (ha!). One google search for certain strangely attractive cricketers and there are about a million pictures to go ga-ga over. One foray of television channels and there's Hrithik Roshan, bulging muscles, yummy eyes, cute extra digit et al! Now, a few heart aches could be caused by little factors such as... "Oh no, (dramatic hand-to-forehead) Christian Bale is married!" or "Damn that Deepika Padkone, trying to steal my guy!" or "Ah, if only my lowe wasn't straight..." But overall, your friends tease you and you grin along, safe in the knowledge that you'll never get caught in THAT trap, at least!

- It's Possible to Do a Lot of Nothing
Now this might sound like something Garfield would make up, but it's true! You can pretend to read... while doing nothing. You can pretend to watch television... while doing nothing. You can pretend to be online, doing important things... while doing nothing. Well, you get the drift! It's a glorious feeling when you look back at a long day of doing nothing. In fact, I plan to write a book about it, Doing and Nothingness. I'm sure it'll be more popular and... "experienceable" than Sartre's similar ramblings.

- The Sad Truth about People
It's a sad truth that people have an endless capacity to deceive themselves. Some (no links here, sorry :P) would even sink into melodrama and self-pity rather than admit that they might have done something wrong or work at a compromise. Ah, well, it takes all sorts of nuts to make a fruitcake.

- The Happy Truth About People
You know there's always another side to the grass but both the less green and the greener sides can be on your own lawn! Ok, ok, I'll stop talking in metaphors before you throw something at me. It's just that the happy truth about people is that PEOPLE CAN BE WONDERFUL! Sure, we're all full of faults and no way is anybody perfect but still, there are people who will understand you and respect you for what you are and bother to stick with you even when you're being a total loser or completely lame :D That's what makes the fruitcake sweet, after all! (Ok, I promise, no more cliched metaphors!)

- Being a Girl is Fun
Yes, yes, we all know it's a hard world to be a woman in. Men constantly come up with trivial complaints about how difficult life is for men but it's obviously just men being men. It's often the case that women wish they were men but at the end of the day, I realise it's fun to be a girl! I mean, womes are so comfy in fun sleepovers where previously mentioned objects of interest/affection/desire/lust are drooled over, fashion, world affairs and everything else are discussed, clothes and weird hairstyles are tried out, crazy pictures are taken and hysterical laughter goes on for several minutes over nothing. Now, not being a man, I can't imagine what male sleepovers (sorry, is that an oxymoron? Let's call it something more MANLY... Hmm, ok BOOZE PARTY!) are like but I doubt there's any of the emotional sharing that women do. Wow, I'm being so sexist. It rocks! :D So yeah, go, girlpower!

- Coo-coo-cooking!
Ah yes, I have leanred rudimentary skills at the kitchen. Never thought the day would come when the old family joke about me having to marry a chef could be shelved. Well, I still wouldn't go THAT far but I've learned some basics. Such as how to make scrambled eggs (ahem, the broken eggs and the weird smell in the kitchen will NOT be mentioned, atomic!) and chapati and dosa and rava idli! So yes, I might survive on my own, provided there are convenient Spencer's Dailies in every corner to buy bread, idli/dosa mav and eggs from. Hehe.

Oh, there's more but all this writing really is getting in the way of my "doing nothing" campaign. So it's bye-bye for now :)

Two Thousand WHAT?!

Now, wait just a minute... How the heck did this happen?! One minute it's New Year's Day 2007 and suddenly it's 2008. Sheesh.

So anyway...

Here I go with my usual profound remarks about the new year that will gloriously mark this special moment in time... The "days of our lives", if you will ;) Well, this time it's rather short, pithy and while I don't know if it may be considered an actual REMARK, it holds profound philosophy... So listen carefully:


PPPPFFFFFRRRRRRT!

Ah. I see from the rather puzzled look on your face that you're cautiously wondering "WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT?!" Ahem. You know. Look deeper. Such great thoughts cannot be explained but only expressed and experienced. Ok, ok, FINE. The old "figure-it-out-yourself" cop out isn't gonna work on you. That was an expression of the rip that is created in the fabric of time as we move from one great epoch to anoth-- Ok, ok, fine, you can stop looking sceptical. That was just me sticking out my tongue at the world, blowing a raspberry at it.

So yeah, that's my profound remark for the beginning of this year:

PPPPFFFFFRRRRRRT!

Hey but if you think about it, it actually DOES sound like the sound of God's snore--cos he's bored with us humans and has fallen asleep--

Hey, hey hey! THAT'S NOT NICE! At least throw tomatoes that are not rotten so that I can... you know... make a meal of it. And, er, could you substitute the smelly eggs with some fried fish? Really, I'm not being very particular. It can even be not so fresh. *drools* Thanks a bunch. ;)

'APPPPPPPY NOOOOOO EEEEAAAARRRR!

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

Ahem. Some post-scriptitious (hey I just made up a fake word!) remarks...

I know this was a rather sad attempt at a blog post, but in my defence, my blog and Miss Perfection (you can read about her elsewhere {haha, now you'll have to comb through my blog [and comment]}) were literally SCREAMING at me to update and well... this is the product. So don't blame me. You can continue the rotten tomato throwing at THEM (I'll still have the fish though :D Thanks...)

Oh, and the Zzzzz... label was new cos I realised I don't have any labels beginning with Z... In fact, that's my new year's resolution... To come up with a label for every alphabet (wow, I just made up a fake resolution!)

Should I Be Worried?

The other in a drama-writing workshop, we were asked to look back and think of a "crisis" or a turning point in our childhood that changed who we are today.

I thought... I scratched the A4 sheet with my pen... I turned those little lines into meaningless doodles. And all I discovered was a penchant for cartoon faces, leaves, lips and black-and-white alternating patterns!

I couldn't think of a SINGLE incident that stands out as changing who I am, making me what I am today. This is something that really disturbed me because everyone seems to have one incident--happy or sad--that changed their life. What does my not having one mean? Am I... shallow? Too complacent? Or worst of all--BORING?!

Not that I wish a childhood trauma upon myself, just so I have something to write about. But c'mon, how am I going to become a famous--and more importantly--RICH writer if I don't have that "something" that'll haunt me all my life, drive me first to writing, then to drinking, smoking, drugs, indiscriminate sex and finally to death! How will I face the literary world? How will I support myself (consults a previously mentioned list)--LEGALLY!

Sob... oh woe!

Ah, forget it. I'll just... traumatise myself now. Better late than never, eh? :D

----------------
Now playing: KT Tunstall - Throw Me A Rope
via FoxyTunes

Why, oh why?

You're a Hyena!

You have quite a sense of humor, though many others find it derisive
rather than appealing. You are perceived as being a coward, but actually have moments
of great bravery and have even stood up to those much larger than yourself. You like
hanging out in groups and are always making a lot of noise. Disney thinks you are an
idiot.


Take the Animal Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Blah.

Your face
A reflection
On the mirror of memories
Splashed with time's waters
Blurred, distant, fading.
The drops remain
Drying slowly
And then they are gone too.

Fitting in...

I can't. Have never.

Can you? Have you?

Errr... Ummm...

Ok, this is a link ripped off vbk's blog, which says it was ripped off antickpix's blog and so on.

Sheesh! Does this mean no more toddy? Waaaaaah! No fair!

You're Love in the Time of Cholera!

by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Like Odysseus in a work of Homer, you demonstrate undying loyalty by
sleeping with as many people as you possibly can. But in your heart you never give
consent! This creates a strange quandary of what love really means to you. On the
one hand, you've loved the same person your whole life, but on the other, your actions
barely speak to this fact. Whatever you do, stick to bottled water. The other stuff
could get you killed.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Blog the Third

Well I've gone and done it this time.

Hmm. Only after I typed that out did I realise how that sounds. Anyway, too lazy to hit backspace now.

It's just that I've started another blog. My third blog... four if you count the git blog too. This one will be quite regularely updated I think. It has all my favourite lyrics. You can find out more for yourself. Go see now. Shoo.

Oops. Almost forgot the link. Here it is. (Clickety click!)

Semester's End

Today I wrote my last exam, finished my last working day for this acacdemic year. I'm sure this is when I should get all retrospective and start spouting great philosophy about life and all that, but all I can come up with is:

YAY!

That's just a reflexive reaction of course, to the end of the year. I'm sure I'll be bored brainless n start missing my friends before even a quarter of the summer is gone. Most of them are going to various exotic summer retreats, leaving me to fry in the Chennai summer heat :'( Waaah! Not fair!

To think about it, the year hasn't been such a trial that I feel relieved that the summer holidays are here.

Well, college was... not anything unexpected. Probably because I didn't really have any expectations. I've enjoyed my course... in a relative way, as compared to school. Lit hasn't been a disappointment though I think the more interesting papers are in the next four sems. I can't really say if I've learned anything new, though. Hmm.

As for other fun stuff. Well I've made some awesome friends, learned a lot of things about people in general and also about myself. That sounds kinda corny but it's true. I can claim confidently that I've learned a LOT, apart from academics. (I'm not going to share the little pearls of wisdom with the world. I'm greedy, gonna hoard them all.) I'll just say that it's been good. I've found some new friends, lost some old ones. I've met a lot of interesting people and best of all, I've discovered the joys of blogging! It's like a world of its own, all by itself.

So thanks people, for both putting up with me, reading and commenting on my blog and also for giving me so much to read about.

Guess this entry has turned out to be for all my fellow bloggers!

Weird...

HEHEHEHEHEHE!

HAHAHAHA!

Ahem... For those of you who were frightened by the insane sound of laughter, I apologise. For those of you who were only mildly surprises/leaning towards irritation, well... Sorry again. That wasn't me laughing. Or rather, not the usual me. Now listen closely. Hear that mad laugh again? See! That wasn't me! I'm innocent.

That was this boring, uptight, librarian-types person in me. I call her Ms. Perfect. Not that she's perfect or anything. She just likes perfection. She likes to see everything in perfect order. And for this reason, she absolutely detests me! Why, you ask? Well, picture this scene. She's humming away to herself, thinking about life and how things are so--well--perfect. Then, I walk into my room and she starts screaming! She says, look at that mess! Pick up those clothes! Arrange those books! Cover the computer! Put away those cd's! Put all those loose scarps of paper in the dustbin. Speaking of which, eeks! Empty your dustbin for pete's--or anyone else's--sake! Now this is all pretty uncomfortable for me, especially since, if you remember, she's saying this a few hundred decibels higher than normal speech. Shrieking, basically. And in my head, to boot! Actually, I don't get what all the screaming is about. She sees the same mess everyday. It's not like it's surprising or anything!

Anyway, me, I don't bother with her rants and raves. I lie down, pick up a book, blast some music (which also drowns out her voice). It's not easy living with her. She has a similar fit every time she sees my bag, which has some very interesting things in it. Well, not so interesting, come to think of it. What I mean is that, my bag usually contains, besides books, pens, and other college-related paraphrenelia, some very interesting answer papers, in terms of irrelevant-crapping creativity. However, these remarkable pieces of illiterature are soon beaten to pulp and lie at the bottom of my bag, doomed to eternal indecipherability. Well, whatever it is, they basically give this woman--Ms Perfect--the creeps.

And let me not even get started on how she reacts when she sees my stalwart charger, best friend and general means of transportation, my bike. (Well, to be precise, it's a scooter but then--shoo! Sorry, that was Ms Perfect taking over for a moment. :D ) Well, where was I? Oh yes, my BIKE, covered in dust, water stains and blessings from my dear avian friends who surround my dwelling place. Well, even I admit it's not a pretty sight and I'm too darned lazy to wash it!

All right, I see now that in my usual scatter-brained way, I have meandered and wandered far from my original sentence. Which was--reading back and counting the number of ha's--HAHAHAHA!

Yes, that was Ms Perfect, for once sounding merry... well, more like insane actually. But before I digress even furthur, I'll tell you why. She's happy. And why? Because she just woke up and saw my blog (a little frown and a "hmph" of irritation from her at the way I began the sentence--the whole because because is a conjunction bit, but who cares?) Well anyway, she saw how I'd beautifully organised my links and all that. I mean, separated my general favourites from the more literary kinda stuff. And, gasp! Arranged the links in alphabetical order instead of the usual haphazard first-come last-appearance order. Yes, she's happy today.

OH! Heaven save me! Now she's getting vague notions about getting me to clean my room, clear my bag, wash my bike and organise my computer! What have I done?!

NOTE: No, I do not suffer from Multiple Personality Disorder. No, I am not ashamed of being a slob--too lazy for that. And no! I did not write the post dots and dashes--it was her, I tell you, her!

Am I Mad?

I have asked myself this question many times. I've lost count of the number people who've asked me this question. And those who have answered it with a decisive YES!

Yes, I admit I am strange. I have strange habits. Such as a previosuly mentioned mania for punctuation. And such a suspicious mind that I often seem paranoid even to myself! And... ahem... there is the little matter of my blog. I am sure many of those who have read it have left with an impression of a distinctly unsound mind.

Well anyway, if you know me you should be able to answer this question. If you don't, then please don't base your answer on this little patch of webspace. As my blog title hints, my other side is much more sane.

Oh, and in answering this question, please don't bother to be honest. HeheheheheHEHEHE!

Good lord! I am mad!

Crap

Crap. Nuts. Bullshit, even.

This, ladies and gentlemen and those of the neutral gender, is uncreative crapping. Which happens to be the direct opposite of the creative crapping that went on today in my Creative Writing paper. This is much more bearable, believe you me! Well, sigh, can't force creativity. My blog(s) stand testament to this fact, I believe. But I'm not giving up hope yet! I shall persevere until I can persevere no more--i.e., when they nail my coffin shut/cremate me or...gasp! When they take away my computer. NOOOOO! *Runs screaming*

I wiiiiill be back. Astalavista, my babies! ;)