I've become something of a social media junkie in the past few years.Bleh.
Something must be done. -.-

PIZZA PARTY!! WOOHOO!!

Terrible Hindi dub of Telugu movie was watched.
Pizza was had.
All was well.
:D

A Mother's Absence: Day 2.

The food is disappearing, and how. All we're left with are 2 jars of peanut butter and Nutella.
Practically everything else is inedible [Read: Needs to be cooked in order to consume].
Worst case scenario: I might have to learn to cook things other than noodles. And omelettes. And cake. Mm. That pizza party looks really good right about now.
We found mould in the bread today. My brother, my dog and I examined it. We found that the fungus looks like trees with bluish-green foliage under a magnifying glass.
My dog, on the other hand, tried to eat it. Cheeky fucker.
The bread, obviously, had to go.
:stomach rumbles:

I think Mum's absence is driving Dad bananas. Brother and Dog are already bananas, except hungrier.
Mm, bananas...

My dog hunted down a cockroach today. By the time we found it, all that remained of it were the exoskeleton and the antennae. Ants do their job really well.

I wonder what cockroach tastes like.

End-of-the-year Shenanigans.

Every time I click the "New Post" button, I feel a sudden urge to clean the keyboard, vacuum the house, dust the guitar and belt out a few "tunes", et cetera.

It's just that when I go and try to do the said things, I feel like blogging again.

It's like a heated ping-pong battle between the laptop and, well, everything else. And I'm the little plastic ping-pong ball that bounces all over the place and never truly accomplishes anything.
[Note to self: Brilliant allegory. Must use. Though calling people ping-pong balls might get a little awkward.]

............................................................................................................

To anybody who reads this, Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year! May the odds be EVER in your favor. :waves:
[Before you ask, yeah, I did read The Hunger Games recently.]

Christmas was...interesting.

I got a sweater, drank my weight in apple juice, watched probably a dozen Christmas specials on TV and got yelled at by my Dad for not studying.
Day well spent. :D
Also, Mum's gone off for some Anesthetist conference for about a week.
Which can only mean either of these two things: HOUSE PARTY!! PIZZA EVERYDAY!
Or, my Dad is going to try to cook and will probably end up burning the water.

This week is going to be pretty eventful. Oh yes.

Obligatory Journal Post #3.14: In which nothing happens.

< Rant >

So I met my friend's mother on the bus the other day.

We got talking. She asked about my family, my dog, studies et al. Eventually the question of 'What I want to become when I grow up' turned up.
"To be honest Auntie, I haven't really decided yet." I replied.
To which she (not surprisingly) said, "Haww!? But Mollika, you should have decided by now no!?"

Well, here's the thing, Auntie:
No. I haven't decided what I want to be when I grow up yet. And I'm in no hurry. There's a world of endless possibilities out there, so what's the rush?
Over the years, I've changed my mind a few dozen times, with regard to the profession I'd like to pick. So it would be archaeologist one day, chef the next, and then croupier, marine biologist, veterinary surgeon over the next few days.
So yeah, one could say I've given the subject a lot of thought.

Here's what I've come up with, so far:
We have just one life to live. Then why spend it doing something we hate? And even if we do come back, there's a high possibility that we might be reincarnated as cockroaches. And cockroaches can't be blackjack dealers now, can they? Didn't think so.
So what, then? Doctor? Pilot? Landscape architect?
Screw all that.
You know what I want to be :when: I grow up?
I want to be happy. Whatever I end up doing, I want to be happy.


< /Rant >

"The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real... for a moment at least... that long magic moment before we wake. Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smoke-stacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true?


We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the song the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever, somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La.


They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to Middle Earth."

-George R.R. Martin.

And people ask me why I read his books.

Obligatory Journal post #73: In which I do one of those slam book-ish challenges.

Truth be told, I've never really done any of these challenges. I always thought they were stupid. This one seemed different from the usual "What's your star sign?" bullsh1t, so I thought I'd give it a go.

Basically, I cross out everything on this list that's true about me. So yeah, here goes nothing.

Appearance

• I have/had piercings besides the ears.
• I want piercings besides the ears.
• I have many scars.
• I tan easily.
• I wish my hair was a different color.
• I have friends who have never seen my natural hair color.
• I have/want a tattoo.
• I can be self-conscious about my appearance.
• I have/had braces. (retainers) 
• I have more than two piercings.  (3, actually; because of a piercing accident back whenever. It counts.)

Embarrassment

• Disney movies still make me cry.
• I’ve laughed so hard I’ve cried.
• I’ve glued my hand to something.
• I’ve laughed until some kind of beverage came out of my nose
• I’ve had my pants rip in public.
• I’ve touched something sharp/hot/etc to see if it would hurt.

Health

• I’ve gotten stitches.
• I’ve broken or dislocated a bone.
• I’ve had my tonsils removed.
• I’ve had my wisdom teeth removed.
• I’ve had chicken pox.

Travel

• I’ve been to Florida.
• I’ve driven/ridden over 200 kilometers in one day.
• I’ve been on a plane.
• I’ve been to Colombia
• I’ve been to Cuba.
• I’ve been to Niagara Falls.
• I’ve been to Ottawa
• I’ve been to the Caribbean.
• I’ve been to Europe.

Experiences

• I’ve gotten lost in my city.
• I’ve seen a shooting star.
• I’ve wished on a shooting star.
• I’ve seen a meteor shower.
• I’ve gone out in public in my pajamas. 
• I’ve pushed all the buttons on an elevator.
• I’ve slapped someone.
• I’ve kissed someone underwater.
• I’ve chugged something.
• I’ve crashed a car.
• I’ve been skiing.
• I’ve been in a musical.
• I’ve auditioned for something.
• I’ve been on stage.
• I’ve caught a snowflake on my tongue.
• I’ve sat on a rooftop at night.
• I’ve pranked someone.
• I’ve ridden in a taxi.

Honesty / Crime

• I’ve been threatened to be arrested. 
• I’ve broken a law.
• I’ve done something I promised someone I wouldn’t.
• I’ve done something I promised myself I wouldn’t.
• I’ve sneaked out.
• I’ve lied about my whereabouts.
• I’ve cheated while playing a game.
• I’ve been in a fist fight.

Death

• I’m afraid of dying.
• I hate funerals.
• I’ve seen someone/something die.
• Someone close to me has attempted/committed suicide.
• I have attempted suicide.
• I’ve thought about suicide before.
• I’ve written a eulogy for myself. 

Materialism

• I own over 5 rap CD’s.
• I’m obsessed with anime/manga.
• I collected comic books. 
• I own a lot of makeup. 
• I own something from Pac Sun.
• I own something from The Gap.
• I own something I got on E-Bay.
• I own something from Abercrombie.
• I thrive on compliments.
• I thrive on hate.

Random

• I can sing low key.
• I’ve stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant.
• I open up to others easily.
• I watch the news occasionally or always.
• I don’t like to kill bugs.
• I sing in the shower.
• I’m a morning person.
• I’m a sports fanatic. 
• I twirl my hair.
• I care about grammar.
• I love spam.
• I’ve copied more than 30 CD’s in a day.
• I bake well.
• My favorite color is either white, yellow, pink, blue, red, black, purple, or orange.
• I would wear pajamas to school.
• I like Martha Stewart.
• I laugh at my own jokes. (LIKE A FUCKING BOSS)
• I eat fast food weekly.
• I’ve not turned anything in and still got an A in a certain class.
• I can’t sleep if there’s a spider in the room.
• I’m really ticklish.
• I like white chocolate.
• I bite my nails.
• I’m good at remembering names.
• I’m good at remembering dates.
• I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.

People

• ..used to ask if I was anorexic/bulimic.
• ..called me fat.
• ..say I’m skinny.
• ..have said I’m ugly.
• ..have said I’m pretty. 
• ..have spread rumors about me.
• ..force me to eat. 
• ..say I eat too much.
• ..say I eat too little.

Eating

• I’ve lost weight.
• I’ve gained weight.
• I’m at my thinnest.
• I’m at my biggest.
• I’ve lost weight and kept it off.
• I’ve lost weight, but gained it back.  (God Fucking Dammit!)
• My weight affects my mood. A lot.
• I diet. 
• I’m vegan/vegetarian.
• I exercise.
• I’ve fainted from exhaustion. 

Family

• I’ve sworn at my parents.
• I’ve planned to run away from home before.
• I’ve run away from home.
• My biological parents are together.
• I have a sibling less than one year old.
• I want kids.
• I’ve had kids.
• I’ve lost a child.

Relationships

• I’m engaged.
• I’m married.
• I’m a swinger.
• I’ve gone on a blind date.
• I have/had a friend with benefits.
• I miss someone right now.
• I have a fear of abandonment.
• I’ve gotten divorced.
• I’ve had feelings for someone who didn’t have them back.
• Someone has/had feelings for me when I didn’t have them back.
• I’ve told someone I loved them when I didn’t.
• I’ve told someone I didn’t love them when I did.
• I’ve kept something from a past relationship.

Sexuality

• I’m a cuddler.
• I’ve been kissed in the rain.
• I’ve hugged a stranger.
• I’ve kissed a stranger.

Bad times

• I regularly drink.
• I can't swallow pills 
• I can swallow numerous pills at a time without difficulty.
• I’ve been diagnosed with depression at some point. 
• I have/had anxiety problems.
• I shut others out when I’m upset.
• I don’t have anyone to talk to when I’m upset. 
• I have taken/take anti-depressants.
• I’ve slept an entire day before.
• I’ve plotted revenge.

One of those days again.

The dull, throbbing light from the laptop.
The sharp, pounding pain in my head. The dinner burning with a vengeance in my stomach.
The wave after wave of Japanese and Korean pop music my playlist is chucking at me.

Alright World, you win. I can't get the fuck to sleep.

Now I'll probably stay up till 2am, pondering about the significance of Oxford Commas, or crying my eyes out to some Radiohead song.
Someone up there must really, really hate me.

Happy Diwali from the Maiti/Sarkar/Biswas household!

It's that time of year again.

There's that familiar, choking, sulphurous odour in the air; thick smoke clouds the streets which are pitch-black, save for the loud explosions, whizzes and the bright orange glow from the same at random.

Wartime? Nay, think again.
This is Diwali in a nutshell.

Here's wishing all of you some of you whoever gets to read this a happy festival of lights. Buy new clothes, eat calorie-laden sweets, burst crackers. Whatever floats your boat, i guess.

On a completely different note, however: I've never quite understood the concept of buying new clothes for Diwali. Sure, okay, so you want to dress up for the Lakshmi Puja (Kali Pujo for us bongs). That's swell. But lighting crackers while you're wearing your precious Mysore Silk saree, what have you, is ridiculous. Go ahead and wear one anyway, if you want to burn yourself alive, while i laugh at you in my old, crappy pajamas, armed with my agarbatti.

Nah, kidding. BUT SRSLY.

Right. I'll take my leave now. I must go burst crackers till my lungs pass out, set off Mr. Neighbour's car alarms, and claim my right to light the fuse on the 1000-wala. It's Diwali, so it's allowed.
I guess.
Whatay fun.

Chee. What crap I've written in the past few days. Atrocious. :[

Melancholy Molly and the Infinite Sadness/Sickness.

‎1 ‎October ‎2011.

I hate October.

Okay, so i don't hate October.  Who could possibly hate it, what with the advent of Autumn, leaves turning regal shades of golden, warm blankets, Halloween et al.
And my birthday's just a little over a month away too. Oh joy.

It's just that every year, October always brings with it a smorgasbord of diseases which i'm most likely to get.
Flu, fever, bronchitis, laryngitis, food poisoning...I'm a sickly kid.

It's hardly fair, is it? I mean, the extremely grueling two-week period of mid-term exams had just ended yesterday. Party time, right?
Wrong, apparently. I have to sit home with a raging viral fever, acute pharyngitis and tonsilitis while everybody else is out on exotic vacations, celebrating the end of mid-terms.
FFFFUUUUU-

On the bright side however, I can finally start reading all the novels (26, to be precise) i have stockpiled since the summer. Yay.

Ugh. Rage. Sadness. Emo Simple Plan lyrics.

Everyday i'm losing a part of myself. There's so much work to finish, and looking at most of my peers slogging away at their respective coaching classes AND completing their other chores as well, makes me wonder:

"What the hell am i doing with my life?"

Everybody's so organised, or at least when compared to me. And what of me? I feel like I've been dropped right in the middle of a huge quicksand pit, and there's chaos blooming all around me. It's like, sink or don't sink. Either way you'll still be stuck in the middle of the pool forever anyway.
And right now, i feel like i've sunk pretty low. :[

Meet Louie.

"Cuddly and warm, these calming creatures reassure me in the days of doubt when fears fly before reason and the world looms bleak instead of beautiful. The Teddy bear, all things to all ages, all sizes for all preferences, symbol that all is right with the world if one only believes."

Everyone should get themselves a teddy bear. Why, you ask?

• Warm, cuddly, reassuring and full of love. A Teddy bear is all of these things.
• Their hugs are magical. Even if your day has turned out to be a glorious pile of shit, just one hug from a teddy bear will make you feel like a happy ray of sunshine.
• Teddy bears don't judge you. Isn't that reason enough?
• Teddy bears are the ultimate confidants. Nothing gets past them. And they don't reveal your secrets to the world either, like diaries do. Goddamn diaries.

Chuck your boyfriend, hug a Teddy bear!

Nah. Kidding, of course.

But srsly.

So here i am, glorifying Teddy bears when i myself don't own one. I'm such a hypocrite, non?

Truth is, my teddy bear isn't so much a bear as a tree frog. :)

Meet Louie. He's like any other teddy bear, except greener and more tree frog-gier. He may not be an omnivore, but he is just as lovable. :cue aww-ing:

Louie is sitting on my head as i type this out. He approves of this post.

Completely Accurate.

"Everybody is a genius. But if you judge a fish based on its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."- Einstein.

Some of us were talking about reforms in the educational system yesterday. Thought i might share. :)

O HAI THURR.

It's been a while, non?

Things have changed. My old phone broke, and it's been replaced with an iPhone. Period.
So obviously, my loyalties have shifted quite a bit since i wrote this entry, professing my love for my Walkman. My brother owns it now. It's for the best, I guess.

Walkie, you will always hold a special place in my heart. <3
:cue tears and aww-ing:

Pretty significant as of today.

In keeping with tradition of slacking off during a weekend.

I had SO much planned out for this 3 and a half day long weekend.
The problem with my plans is they always fall apart at the very last minute. So, as of now, tons (literally, TONS) of schoolwork remains unfinished, dozens of chores undone and billions of tic tacs uneaten.
I wonder if i'll even pass this semester or not. :shudder:

However, there is ONE thing i have been doing this weekend. Collecting information. Loads and loads of information, that may seem completely useless to the average joe, but is a godsend to the average mollika.
I kid you not. My laptop is a veritable cornucopia of trivia and statistics about psychological disorders to the X-men to... hamburgers. Yes, hamburgers.
DON'T JUDGE.


Anyway, here's a little something i found. A heavily detailed map of 221B Baker Street. It looks so, so beautiful. :cries:
Google, i love you ever so much.

Click the picture for a better view. Trust me, you WON'T regret it.

Unifinished Schoolwork: Superstitions

Note: This is for an English assignment which, due to 'limited' time constraints, i couldn't finish. We were given topics to choose from and speak about. I chose superstitions.

I took my my dog out for a walk one morning. Out of sheer boredom, my mum decided to tag along.
A good 45 minutes later, while we were returning to out house, my mum suddenly yelled, "Mollika! WATCH OUT!" and tackled me to the ground with the strength of a sumo wrestler.
"What did you do that for?!" I yelled, while looking around frantically for someone who might have tried to kill us, or worse still, kidnap my dog.

Would anyone like to try and guess why she did that?

Mum did what she did because as usual, i wasn't looking where i was going, and i'd almost stepped on a lemon and some chillies, two of the MOST EVIL household ingredients known to mankind.
Superstition suggests that stepping on lemon and chillies lying around aimlessly on roads will bring the unsuspecting person (bless the poor bastard) untold misfortune, usually in the form of death, loss of wealth or at least a bad case of diarrhoea.

In my opinion, superstitions started out as little white lies that some pathetic loser told his rich and successful friends, in order to make his life seem a little less, well, pathetic.
Lost your job? Blame the cat that crossed your path earlier today!
People think you're ugly? Blame your mother for stepping outside the house on a moonless night when the euclidean horseshoe constellation is visible in the sky!
Okay, i'll admit i made that one up.

Some superstitions are clever creative and funny, while others are absurd and downright offensive. And of late, science has proved more than its fair share of superstitions to be cleverly spun farces. But i gotta hand it to whoever came up with the very first superstitions. An imagination as vivid as theirs is extremely difficult to find. It takes skill to convince millions of believers that stepping on a crack will truly break your mum's back!
As Albert Einstein rightly said, "Science without religion is lame; religion without science is blind."

I was reading the wiki page on Shelley's "Ode to the West Wind" earlier today. Interesting stuff.
In the second stanza of the poem, Shelley likens the chaos in the sky to a fierce Maenad.

Maenad. Maenad. I've heard that somewhere before.

Ah, yes. Maenads were the worshippers of Dionysus, the Greek God of wine and parties. The wikipedia page on them gives a detailed description, but meh, whatever. I'll break it down for ya.
Maenads were basically frenzied female hardcore ravers tripping on super-strong hallucinogens.


There.

The picture of a Maenad on wikipedia looks familiar.

So i thought and i thought and i thought, and i finally came to the conclusion that:
Maenads look like Disco Stu from The Simpsons.

Gravity-Yoko Kanno.

"Been a long road to follow
Been there and gone tomorrow
Without saying goodbye to yesterday
Are the memories I hold still valid?
Or have the tears deluded them?

Maybe this time tomorrow
The rain will cease to follow
And the mist will fade into one more today
Something somewhere out there keeps calling...

Am I going home?
Will I hear someone singing solace to the silent moon?
Zero gravity, what's it like?

Am I alone?

Is somebody there beyond these heavy aching feet?
Still the road keeps on telling me to go on
Something is pulling me
I feel the gravity of it all."

I was listening to this song a while ago. It moved me to tears.

Of late, I don't know what to believe in anymore. My faith is being aggressively tested, to say the least.

Suddenly I'm feeling the gravity of it all.

This is what my occasional commute by bus looks like.

I travel by bus quite often. I prefer it to travelling in a school van crammed with halfwit juniors. Who wouldn't?
On a whim, i decided to chronicle the entire 45-minute commute on my phone. Excerpts for you stalking bastards that follow me :

16:45, Wed 03-08-2011
I am making my way to the bus stop as i type. Auto guy stopped like, 500 km away. Cheap bugger can't give change. *muttermuttergrumblerhubarb*
Bus stop looks unusually empty. Huh.

16:50.
No bus.

16:55.
No bus. Something smells fishy. In the literal sense as well. Must be the sewage behind the stop.

17:00, Wed 03-08-2011
Red bus after red bus after red bus has gone by, not a single one of them going remotely close to my destination. Such is my luck on Wednesdays.

17:05.
I have been waiting at the bus stop for what seems like an eternity now. Where the hell is that bus? I'll be 60 before it finally arrives.

17:06
Bus arrives. There is a God!

17:06:42s.
Bus is packed. As usual, the only empty seat is next to the weird old guy with the hairy knuckles.
Somebody up there really hates me.

17:10.
Some music is in order. *Flips out Walkman, puts headphones on like a boss*
I love you, Walkman.
Now Playing: J'y Suis Jamais Alle- Yann Tiersen.

17:30.
Half the journey's done. I'm bored. La di da.
This lady just got into the bus. She's wearing a churidar made from some really trippy, funky, 60s wallpaper type dress material. My eyes hurt.

17:50.
I take my leave now. My stop approaches. Kthxbai.

It's a lot harder than you think.

So, this is it.

The mere thought sends a chill down my spine. "Now or never, Molly. Get it over with!" My conscience speaks true words.
The people stare on in eager anticipation. There are hushed whispers all around me. "Will she? Won't she? Forget it, she doesn't have the guts."
I, however, am completely unaware of everybody present. There are slightly more pressing matters at hand.

The sky turns dark, right on cue. Time is running out.

I turn to face the Nefarious Mom-Lady. She gives me a cold glare as if to say, "Only one." I want to cry. It just isn't fair!
I take a deep breath. "Now or never, Molly. Now or never," my conscience eggs me on.
And so, with sweaty palms and shaky fingers, I reach out...


And grab the jar of Honey Roasted Chunky Peanut Butter. Almost as soon as I touch the jar, thunderous applause breaks out. I can hear people cheering, calling out my name. "Go Mollika! Woot!"
I turn to face the crowd, holding up the jar of P.B like a trophy, big grin on my face,
There's no one there. Just an old man pushing his shopping cart by.

"Enough drama, Molly. Let's go. It looks like it's going to start raining soon," Ma says.
"So this IS it," I think, depressed at the triviality of the situation. "Life does become more and more mundane as you grow older."

And then we make our way to the billing counter.

[Note: I was a nine-year old kid with delusions of grandeur when this happened. Don't judge.]

No, I don't feel well. At all.

My life sure is odd.
I decided to bunk school. Why? I don't know. Maybe I didn't quite feel like showing off my Interact Club badge to anybody today.
Nevertheless, I fell sick. So my whole unofficial holiday is ruined. Karma, thou art a heartless bitch.
And I'm sure something bloody spectacular happened in class while I was out. That always happens. >:[

A world without my Walkman is a sad, sad world.

16/7/2011; 3:45 pm.

It's been raining continuously for the past 4 hours. The weather is perfect for listening to 'The Smiths'.

Except my mum has taken away my Walkman. Such is my life.

The definition of soulmate, according to Urban Dictionary is:

"A person with whom you have an immediate connection the moment you meet -- a connection so strong that you are drawn to them in a way you have never experienced before. As this connection develops over time, you experience a love so deep, strong and complex, that you begin to doubt that you have ever truly loved anyone prior. Your soulmate understands and connects with you in every way and on every level, which brings a sense of peace, calmness and happiness when you are around them. And when you are not around them, you are all that much more aware of the harshness of life, and how bonding with another person in this way is the most significant and satisfying thing you will experience in your lifetime. You are also all that much aware of the beauty in life, because you have been given a great gift and will always be thankful."

 Going by this definition, my Walkman is my soulmate.
My Walkman understands me. Even when it's on shuffle mode, it ALWAYS picks the right song to play at the right time. Coldplay or The Smiths when i'm gloomy, Snow Patrol when i'm falling asleep, Led Zeppelin when i'm still awake at 2 in the morning, Mika or The Beatles when i'm happy...you get the idea.
I wouldn't know what to do with my life if my Walkman died.

(Personal opinion: Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd sound THAT much better at 2am, when the rest of the world is fast asleep.)

One might wonder: "Why did your mum confiscate your Walkman anyway?"
Well, it so happened that I was travelling in the car with my mum. Out of habit, I stuck my earphones in my ears and started listening to "There is a light that never goes out", by The Smiths.  As usual, my mum started talking just as the song started. I hate it when that happens. As soon as you put your earphones on, the WHOLE bloody world suddenly wants to talk to you.
In retrospect, I should have nodded a bit more. Maybe i'd still have Walkie. (Yeah, lets refer to Walkman as "Walkie" now.)

It's for the better, I guess. (I'm being unusually optimistic all of a sudden. Weird.)
Without Walkie, I'll finish that Murakami novel I'm still reading. I'll start studying for that biology test on Monday. Maybe I'll stop shutting out the rest of the world with my music.

But for the moment I am going to be a whiny bitch and complain about the lack of The Smiths in this rainy weather. Because that's how I roll.

Z is for Zero, the number of fucks I give.

I'm dropping a couple of f-bombs here and there. Be warned.

So I was travelling by auto the other day.
Autos aren't my preferred mode of travel. They're mighty expensive, and it is especially a NIGHTMARE for curly-haired people such as yours truly. Travelling even a pithy 2km by auto makes my hair look like tumbleweed from one of those westerns.
I happened to be travelling extra that day. So I came prepared against the wind, with my hair tied up "neatly" and everything. EVEN so, the wind managed to screw up my hair.
After what seemed like a never-ending wrestling match with the bloody hurricane in order to keep my hair restrained, I decided I didn't give a fuck and let it fly.
Fly into my eyes and nostrils. If you'd seen me then, you would have died laughing.
Wind- 1, Mollika- 0.

Which brings me to the point of today's post: "I don't give a fuck."


If I were to sum up my life up to this point, I'd say it's composed of 75% missed opportunities, 5% sickness and 20% pure, unadulterated happiness. My life is, if a bit excessively, peppered with missed opportunities; Risks not taken, all ranging from not speaking up in class and eventually losing out on something spectacular, to chickening out on the penultimate question of a quiz and losing by a difference of 2 points.

If I had a dollar for every chance I've given up till today. Oh boy...

I guess this sort of behaviour stems from my fear of being judged harshly.
Keeping up appearances is one of man's many obsessions, apart from gardening, alcohol and the sports section of the newspaper. With the constant need to keep up appearances and be accepted in society comes the need to constantly criticise and belittle anyone else. Everybody has an opinion about everyone, regardless of whether it's a good one or a bad one. No one cares if feelings are being hurt in the process.
Every decision is made keeping in mind that ubiquitous question:

"What will everyone else think?"


That question is like a resilient parasite, feeding on the conscience of human minds. It has crushed aspirations and screwed up the general decision-making ability that humans possess.
In short, it has turned the entire human population into cowards. I'm no exception.

Why didn't I speak up in class when I knew the answers?
Because I thought I'd probably get them wrong and be ridiculed by everyone.


Why did I chicken out on the last question of that quiz?
Because I didn't want to risk losing points on it.


Come to think of it, if I HAD answered that Q, we might have won. But NOO. Molly's too chicken to take risks.

Enough, I say!
Screw what everyone else thinks. It's time we started listening to ourselves for a change.

It's time we started taking chances. We'd never really know whether we were right or wrong if we didn't try.
What's the point of avoiding risks? So we can make it safely to death?
Needless to say, I do not approve.

It's high time we stopped giving a fuck what anybody thinks.

Of Nitrous Oxide... and Ether and.. st...uff...

Note: Fridays are SO uninspiring. :[

When i was maybe 7 or 8 years old, whenever anybody asked me what my mother did for a living, i'd reply:

"She knocks people out."

You should have seen the expressions on the faces of all the aunties and uncles then. Priceless.

I wasn't entirely joking, i might add. My mum DOES knock people out for a living. One might think-"HOW can a lady whose uppercut doesn't even reach her daughter's chin, knock anybody out?"

Simple. With nitrous oxide. My mum's an anaesthetist. Bahaha!

Being a doctor's kid means that we have to listen to detailed descriptions of various surgeries at the dinner table. Hemorrhoids. LIPOSUCTION. Oh, the horror.

And feigning sickness to bunk school is useless in our family. None of the classic "Sore-throat" or "Stomach cramps" claptrap works here. If it isn't as serious as appendicitis, forget about it.

It has its benefits too, however. Thanks to mum, i can spell words like anaesthesia and dextromethorphan, and know what they mean.

(Fact: Dextromethorphan is known to make people hyper and irritable. Found usually in cold and sinus medication.)
I can administer vaccines to people without killing them too! :begins to brag:  :D

I pride myself on my elite google searching skills.

So i was looking around on some websites, wasting time, giving no thought to the completion (or beginning, for that matter) of my chem project when i unearthed THIS piece of gold:

Shakespearean Insults!

Why hadn't anyone thought of this before?

My day is MADE. Now i can only hope someone gives me the opportunity to call them a villainous hasty-witted harpy. :D

Of the Rebecca Black philosophy and Dance Dance Revolution and stuff.

IT'S FRAIDAY FRAIDAY GOTTA GET DOWN ON FRAIDAY.
EVERYBODY'S LOOKIN' FORWARD TO THE WEEKEND WEEKEND!

Rebecca Black speaks the truth, yo.

I look forward to this weekend. And how!
Boxes and boxes of orange tic tacs are waiting to be eaten. And INSTANT COFFEE! THERE'LL BE LOADS OF COFFEE!

And DDR will be played. Oh yes.

DDR, or Dance Dance Revolution is a game, wherein you read the arrows as they scroll up on the screen and step on the corresponding arrow on the dance pad. The arrows go to the beat of the song being played.
Hence the name.
I love this game so much. And i play it 3 times or more every time i'm at Amoeba. 20 bucks to play 3 songs, FYI.

5 year old Japanese kid playing DDR like a BOSS.

And the best part about all of this is that there's no weekend homework that i have to panic about on Sunday night. Yay!

Obligatory Journal Post #42: Of Kenny Loggins and the need for speed.

I've found my reason for staying up late tonight.

Top Gun.

Seriously. Danger Zone, Val Kilmer, that homoerotic awesome volleyball match between ze good guys and ze bad guys, and 30 seconds of Meg Ryan in the entire movie make Top Gun perfect for staying up late to watch. I can't think of anything i dislike about that movie.

Except perhaps Goose's death. That sucks.

I can picture myself falling asleep during math class. Ah, well. You win some, you lose some.
On second thought, i hate math class. So falling asleep isn't so bad. Win-win for me! Yay!

I'll take my leave now. My movie beckons. (:

On being locked out of my own house and stuff.

"If something can go wrong, it will.
If anything simply cannot go wrong, it will anyway.
Left to themselves, things tend to go from bad to worse."


It's amazing, the number of situations these three laws can apply to. I take my hat off to you, Murphy. Kudos.

Take today, for example.
I lost my seat in the van for arriving 3 seconds late. As a result, i had to take the unhygienic back seat of my van, notorious for being as hard as a granite slab and the most preferred place for toddlers to throw up in.

After about 40 minutes of bouncing around on the Hardest Material Known to Man, i got home. Only to find that it was locked.

Did i mention i had no key?

We don't believe in leaving spare keys under the mat, or wherever. For fear that the dog might eat them. He'll eat anything. Once, he polished off an entire wooden spatula.
My mum couldn't help either. She was in the middle of administering anaesthesia to a pregnant woman undergoing a C-section. What perfect timing.

And it's usually during sticky situations like these that one badly needs to take a piss.
My situation wasn't any different.

And so i did what any panicky, high-school girl with a full bladder would do. I RAN.

I ran, clutching my novel in one hand and my blazer in the other, school bag flying out behind me like some funky parachute, to a mall that's a few minutes from my house. I didn't stop to think that maybe my neighbours would be kind enough to let me use their loo.
In my defense, situations like these don't leave you any time to think!

That was hopefully the LAST time i'll ever have to run like that.

Of Sentimental Disney Movies and Death and Stuff.

Call me emotionally unstable, but i tear up every time an animal dies in a movie i'm watching.

My mum tells me i cried every time i watched Lion King. Starting from back when i was the age of three. But that was because i couldn't climb inside the tv and sing "Hakuna Matata" with Timon, Pumba and Simba. Or so i'm told.

Human deaths in movies don't interest me much. But when Mufasa, or Bambi's mother die, the
waterworks just start flowing.

•  Lion King: "Oh gawd why can't i get inside the tv?!" *cries*
•  Lion King (Again): "Noo! MUFASA!" *cries*
•  Bambi: "I hate man!" *cries*
•  Marley & Me: *cries*
•  Deathly Hallows: "Dobby! D:" *cries*
•  The Princess And The Frog: "No tiny firefly you can't DIE!" *cries*

I was reading a comic strip earlier today. Not the usual "Funny-ha ha" comic. This was one of those which fill your heart with sadness and make you all teary-eyed.
It's about this guy whose pet dog passed away, and how he realizes how one doesn't appreciate something until it's gone for good.
(The said comic: http://www.funnyjunk.com/funny_pictures/1527673/Baww+comic )

That, and the gloomy weather and endless rain got me thinking about death, and stuff.

Hence the gloomy blog post.

Reasons why i think my little brother would make a badass evil genius: #42

I stumbled upon this whilst scrolling through old family photos on my pc.

Needless to say, little bro got an earful from a horrified, pissed off (and secretly impressed) big sis.
I am scared to wash my face now.

If I could get this on a t-shirt, I sure would.

‎31 ‎May ‎2011, PM 10:45:52

Edit: Found this on another one of my million obsolete blogs. Now posting.

It's been long, journal.
I managed to score 86% in my exams.
Apparently it's enough to get me a seat in ISC Science. Which is what i decided on.
What else?

Everything went as was predicted. I wasted the 2 months of vacation away, and now i have 5 days before i go back to school.

Ah, school. I'll be joining the likes of all those smarty-pants people as part of 11 Science. It's like an elite club. Of social outcasts and cocky cocks. Of those who are truly brilliant at heart, and those who claim to be, but aren't.

And all the other pretentious pricks go to 11 commerce. What joy!

Quizzing seems pretty dull right about now. 11th std. is like the doldrums of quizzing, or so i hear. All the good ones are for the 10thies. It can rightly be said that i've lost my chance. How pathetic.

With every passing day it feels like i'm being rejected from my own comfort zone. The billions of sermons i've received about the "Big bad world out there" are slowly beginning to make sense.
Goodbye, comfort zone. Goodbye, best all girls quiz team 10thy title. Goodbye, quizzer girl nickname that i've earned over the years. I'll miss you TERRIBLY.

Actually, scratch the last-but-one thought. I think i'm going to get out of my comfort zone just this once and retain the "Quizzer girl" nickname i've earned.

Kthxbai.

No sir, no writing tonight.

I treat my blogs like crap. There's one in my name on most of the popular blogging platforms, but they're all mostly empty. I feel really bad for them.

But what's a high schooler and tic tac aficionado supposed to write about?
Otters?
The trouble i experienced whilst trying to peel onions for my first bio practicals?
Dante's Inferno?
That time when an auto driver gave me a brief anatomy lesson?

I'm at SUCH a loss for words, really. :|

Of new beginnings.

I remember when I used to maintain a journal. I was 11 at the time, I think. It was a yellow notebook with teddy bears on it. *shudders*. It also had a tiny lock on it, to evade prying eyes. Especially my brother's.

Soon I realized it was the stupidest thing that I had ever done. He broke the lock as easily as a tea-soaked biscuit and read a few pages in it. Oh, the shame.

My brother and I learnt two valuable life lessons that day: Me-"Don't ever keep a journal." My brother- "Hell hath no fury like a big sister whose journal you've just read."

Out of embarrassment, I tore out all the pages in the journal, soaked them in water and threw away all my memories of, well, whatever the 11 year old me had chronicled in those pages. All the memories of fights in class, celebrity crushes, plain old crushes- EVERYTHING, went down the drain.

I didn't feel bad, though. I felt like a weight had been lifted off my back. Or perhaps like a murderer who's destroyed every shred of evidence of his crime.

In short, I felt free.


Go ahead. Ask me what the point of the whole anecdote was.
I don't exactly know either. It's just that when I restarted this blog with all the old posts gone, I felt the very same way I did when I destroyed my journal.
Free as a recently uncaged bird with the entire zoo to explore. Or something like that.



(P.S: First post done. I'm famished!)