31st May 2012, AM 08:00:00

It's been a year since I wrote that post about what I imagined my new class'd be like.

Time flies like a banana. No wait, wait. I messed that line up. Goddammit.

Mind-numbing jokes aside, the last year did pass by at an unfathomable speed. Suddenly I'm in my last year of school, doing exactly what most people my age do.

Accurate gif is accurate.

To be honest, the 8 year old me never thought she'd make it this far. I always assumed I'd be dead before I reached 12th std. Or possibly off in some remote hamlet, fishing and not going to school.

[Dear 8 year old self: Ha ha ha, in your stupid little face.]

Ah, school. Turns out I wasn't wrong about them being an elite club of social outcasts and cocky cocks. But there's so much more to them than that. We are your basic ragtag band of adventurers with unclear goals and good hearts. Sure, we do get on each other's nerves far too often, but ultimately everybody gets along and the day is saved.

We're all probably a bunch of supers in disguise. No kidding.

I was completely wrong about 11th being the doldrums of quizzing. In fact, last year was the best year in terms of quizzing for me. "Quizzer Girl" nickname retained? I think so.

I've been picked up from my comfort zone and flung far away from it, quite literally. The equations here are much harder, and so are the chairs. But it's still difficult to believe I'm in 12th. I'm in 12th. I'm in 12th!

This is all very weird and uncomfortable.

From the journal of a recovering addict.

My mum took away my internet connection.
She hid it from me.
[As if anyone can 'hide' anything from me.]

Funny thing is, I don't miss it.
Good riddance, Tata photon. Your internet speeds were practically deathlike anyway.

And in all honesty, I've never felt this liberated since that moment after I finished writing the last Hindi exam that I would ever take, over an year ago.
Picture Andy crawling out of the filthy sewers of Shawshank and feeling the rain on his skin for the first time, in a long time. Yeah, THAT liberating.

What perplexes me is how in the world did I let social networking take over my life. I find myself incessantly checking Facebook for any update from hundreds of :friends: I hardly know, let alone care about, in the real world.
The things that people will post on there could make the IQ of an entire street drop by a dozen points. No wonder that website is few steps away from becoming the next Internet Rape Machine [The pioneer being Myspace.com.]
And yet, it had come to point where I HAD to know what everyone had for breakfast that morning, or where so-and-so vacationed, and what they ate there.

Morrissey sums it aptly in the lyric:
"In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don't care if I live or die ?
...
In my life
Why do I smile
At people who I'd much rather kick in the eye ?"

All the Facebook friend bashing aside, I would :proudly: like to admit that I haven't opened the laptop in about a week. Which is awesome, considering the obscene amount of time I spend in front of it everyday.
And sure, I can easily access the Internet from my phone. But the speed is so, so slow that I've just stopped giving a damn anymore.

I'll take my leave now. The outside world beckons.



Sent from my iPhone

Hair today, gone tomorrow.

I hate having my hair cut. It's stupid and pointless.
And we're supposed to be 'The gender which gets haircuts recreationally.'
Snickerdoodle. Disproving female stereotypes since '94.

There is such a fine line between 'bad-ass haircut' and 'bad haircut that makes you look like an ass'.
How and why most people usually seem to make it to the former category, and I inevitably get stuck in the latter almost every time, is doomed to forever remain one of the greatest unsolved mysteries of the universe.

When I went to get my hair cut yesterday, what I expected was roughly two inches shorter, slightly more manageable hair.

So imagine my shock and horror when my arch nemesis, The Hairstylist, eventually chopped my hair down to less than half its original length.
I couldn't say a word. I just sat in the chair, looking petrified at the mirror, while the wicked harpy hovered around me, snip-snip-snipping all my hair off. I couldn't scream, or cry, or anything. I just endured the injustice.
Quick. Somebody hand me a medal.

I realize how Samson must've felt.

My mum loves the haircut.
My brother says I look like a Resident Evil zombie.
My dad says to go study.

I look like a dude.
A fat boy. With curly hair.
And tits severe physical abnormalities.
Goddammit.
I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS OMG ASDFGHJKL; ;_;

Xkcd, how I love thee.

You will never fail to amuse me.

My only regret about dropping math is that I won't understand more xkcd jokes than usual. :[

As I passed by the bus stop earlier today, I noticed a bunch of plump women waddling over to their bus.
The strange thing about these women was that they all looked strangely similar to each other. All of them wore blue jeans, full-sleeved t-shirts of varying hues, thick-rimmed spectacles, and possessed the very same waist length, immaculately trimmed and permed hairstyle as each other.

For some reason, they reminded me of the duck spirits from Spirited Away.

I found this fucking hilarious. Don't ask.

All Aboard.

You can see the bus inching closer and closer to your bus stop. Which is unusually crowded with...strangers? No, all of these faces are somewhat familiar, and you feel at ease around them.
The bus finally gets here, and everybody clambers in. You pay your fare and find a seat, as does everyone else.

And then an unexplainable feeling of peace, calm and happiness hits you in the face. Around these people, you feel like nothing is wrong with the world; nothing could ever be. You look around and you see them smiling, and happily chatting away about nothing in particular.

What seemed like the best bus ride you've ever had, comes to an end forty-five or so minutes later, when the bus creeps and finally halts at your destination.
Surprisingly, everyone in the bus gets up and leaves at this very stop. Again, you're in the middle of a large crowd of familiar faces at a bus stop.
Slowly, the crowd disperses. All the faces disappear as the people slowly trickle away in their respective directions, most likely never to be seen again.

And you're all alone at your bus stop, wondering what the hell happened.

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

No, Radiohead did not bring this about. No, this is not yet another one of my wacko dreams.

The thought has been gnawing away at my conscience for a while now: The notion that people don't matter. The temporariness of it all just, I dunno, frustrates me.


"Certain things they should stay the way they are. You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone. I know that's impossible, but it's too bad anyway."


Often I find myself wondering why we always seek solace in things that are temporary. Friends forever? No thank you. Soon everyone's going to start trickling away in different directions, never to be heard from again.
People come and go as they please. Nothing "lasts forever".

#50: In which I babble about anime. This post is quite skippable.

50+ posts, and not a single one about anime? INCONCEIVABLE.

A while ago, I was ticking off all the anime I'd watched at some point of time on a checklist I found, and I found out I've watched 49 anime shows [completely or otherwise]. Some of them weren't even on the list, so my grand total comes up to over 50 shows. Probably.
FIFTY.

Dear Pre-9th std. Snickerdoodle,

You had no life. How did you manage to pass all those classes? What the hell man. That's unhealthy.

Regards,
12th std. Snickerdoodle.
-----------------------------

Most people seem to think that anime is juvenile. The logic is that anime is a bunch of cartoons, and cartoons are for kids. Hence QED.
Archer is a cartoon show. Archer is also probably the last show any sensible parent would let their kid watch. But it's a brilliant show, nevertheless.
The same goes for Death Note, an anime. Which also happens to be a psychological thriller about a guy who finds a notebook, which kills off the person whose name you decide to write in the book.
And hentai. Is hentai for kids? Didn't think so.
There shouldn't be anything wrong with enjoying watching anime and cartoons, regardless of age.

I like anime. I like manga. I like Jpop, Kpop and the whole lot. I like Vocaloid. I like Touhou Project.

That being said, I do not like every anime I've watched, or every manga I've read. For every good anime show out there, there's at least a hundred crappy ones. There's dozens of Jpop, Kpop and Vocaloid songs I hate. And many of the levels of Touhou make my eyes hurt.
I don't get it. People think that just because I like anime, I must like every anime that exists. I like music, but I don't like all the music that has been produced so far.
Yeah.

/rant
----------------------

Edit: This video. OMG. Touhou fans are crazy.

#318: In which I talk about my trip to :Orange Pekoe Land:.

To be honest, most of my vacations with the family end up being remembered for all the wrong reasons, save for a few. There's always bickering, humiliation of some sort, flat tyres and sickness involved. Not to mention the dozens of other pissed-off, rude tourists who, like us, are looking for some kind of solace in their hotel rooms and bad food. The whole point of a 'vacation' is to escape from these things, not run into them everywhere we go.

I didn't expect anything to be different this time around. The last time I visited Ooty, I wasn't particularly pleased with the situation [Read: Extremely annoyed and whiny, thus making the whole vacation suck for everyone else]. My brother and I were down with a bad case of food poisoning, and the Flower Show was on, making the place more crowded than ever. Hated it with a vengeance.

This time, however, we didn't stay in the city; in fact we left it far, far behind, and went to stay in a lone cottage in the middle of a large tea estate, which was was bordered by a thick jungle where a [now dead] notorious criminal poacher dude with a thick telephone mustache used to live. 

It was all very cool, both literally and metaphorically. We had to bring our own provisions from the town, which well over 10 kilometers away. There were hardly any people around the area, but there were loads of animals. LOADS.

Tea Land, Jackfruit Land. Also leopard, monkey, bear, tiger, bison, elephant, hare, leech, cicada, boar, deer, sparrow etc. Land. Gets pretty creepy at night. There have been reports of big black bears coming up to our gate. And I swear to God I heard a THUMPTHUMPTHUMP on the roof.

Our only other neighbours, apart from the obvious smorgasbord of fauna, were a family of five; a man, his wife and three kids. It was right out of an Enid Blyton book, from the fact that they lived in a cottage near the forest, right down to the cow that visited their backyard every afternoon to feast on the begonias.

While the man explained the workings of landsharks to the elders in mia famiglia, I made friends with the youngest of his kids: a brilliant little 8 year old girl, named Faye. She introduced me to all her animal friends: A Rottweiler pup called Stone, A :mean: Persian cat named Percy, and five tiny chicklets chicks [One of which she named Joey, after the dude from Friends. Joey climbed on my shoulder and proceeded to shift base to the top of my head, making the other ones jealous. Ahahah.].
Faye's what Pocahontas probably would've been like when she was 8. She knows the whole area like the back of her hand, and if she wasn't riding her bike she was always bringing me things, some of which included: a flower that smelled like a mango, a berry that looked like an eyeball, a millipede and one pillbug rolled up into a ball. :]

Closed Pillbug!

Open Pillbug!

 I have oh-so-much to write/babble about, it's overwhelming! However, I think I'll put an end to this nonsensical post in just a bit. Blogging is a tiring task.

Bottom line: Kickass vacation was kickass.