.

Here I sit, on the front porch of my house, dreaming about, well, nothing.

The dog is basking in the sun, which gleams, with a sort of vengeance, through the leaves of a tree, throwing myriad shapes on his back.
The cycle sits patiently in a corner, waiting to be taken out for a ride.
And the sky. Wow, the sky. It's a bold, bright blue and completely devoid of any clouds.
A motorcycle rolls by somewhere.
Silence.

Summer seems to have set in, way, WAY too early. I won't even bother trying to study.
Gah. I wish I had a lawn and a sprinkler.
Or a pool.
Or a beach.
This weather is perfect.

I'm very angry. I'm so very angry.

I don't feel like writing, so here's a gifset expressing my anger instead.

There's never anybody to talk to.

Obligatory Journal Post- The Return: Limerence is a funny thing.

“Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore. Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends' turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart. It hurts. Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind. It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain. I hate love.”

-Neil Gaiman.

Earlier today, I was clumsily browsing tumblr, and my dashboard was mostly full of posts about love, and heartbreak; the whole shebang.
One thing led to another, and I clicked the 'Unrequited Love' tag.

Wow. Just, wow. I have no words.

There were thousands and thousands of posts, and all of them from different people, pining away for somebody they could never have.

It's heartbreaking, the thought that such a massive part of the general population is always in the throes of a love so... unrequited. The survey people should conduct a worldwide study to give us an estimate of the number of hearts being broken per day. I'm pretty sure the number would be staggeringly huge.
In fact, there's even a neat sounding word for the feeling:
"Limerence: an involuntary state of mind which results from a romantic attraction to another person combined with an overwhelming, obsessive need to have one's feelings reciprocated."

Everyone's well-acquainted with limerence, there's no denying it. When you fall head over heels for someone, their every aspect seems to complement yours in one way or another. You think you both are a perfect fit for each other. A match made in heaven, and all that. You are the sambar to his idly vada, you are the orange tic tacs to her Mollika, that sort of thing.
I, for one, cannot imagine my life without orange tic tacs, or idly vada without sambar. It just DOES NOT SEEM RIGHT.
Therefore, one can imagine how painful it is to watch your 'perfect fit' happy with somebody else, apart from yourself. Pow, right in the feelings, if you ask me.

I suddenly found myself feeling horrible for all those people posting on there. Thousands of people I've never known, and never will. You guys, my heart goes out to all of you.
And it's not like I'm pining away for lost love or anything myself, either.

Gah. This empathy shit is killing me.

The Bane of My Existence.

Slam Book Survey Thingie 2: Electric Boogaloo.

I got 99 problems, and these were all of them!

Writing this damn thing was like writing my English Literature paper. At first I'll start off all awesome with an epic essay, and from there the whole paper turns to shit. -.-
You guys are welcome to complete this challenge if you want. In fact, I dare you to. I dare all of you to.

Gah. I'm bored.

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

1:6 of the songs you listen to most?

In no particular order:

• White Winter Hymnal- Fleet Foxes.
• No Buses- Arctic Monkeys.
• There is a Light That Never Goes Out- The Smiths.
• The Battle of Evermore- Led Zeppelin.
• Fake Plastic Trees- Radiohead
• You Make My Dreams Come True- Hall and Oates

2:If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?
Neil Gaiman and Amanda Palmer, and Louis C.K., among others. But mostly them.

3:Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.
"Before he left, Jose Arcadio Buendia buried the spear in the courtyard and, one after the other, he cut the throats of his magnificent fighting cocks, trusting that in that way he could give some measure of peace to Prudencio Aguilar."

-One Hundred Years of Solitude.

4:What do you think about most?
Oh, you know. Stuff. My future, Joseph Gordon Levitt etc.

5:What does your latest text message from someone else say?
How considerate :P my gratitude is inexpressible

6:Do you sleep with or without clothes on?
With clothes on. But I am known to sleep on the floor without a shirt on, occasionally. .-.

7:What’s your strangest talent?
I...I don't know. I'm talentless.
Well, I guess I have a talent for recalling really, REALLY random, uncanny facts and incidents from memory.

8:Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

"Boys fuck things up. Girls are fucked up. That’s the difference. Boys just do damage to your house that you can measure in dollars, like a hurricane. Girls, like, leave scars in your psyche that you find later, like a genocide... That’s the difference between boys and girls. And it becomes the difference between men and women, really. A man will, like, steal your car or burn your house down or beat the shit out of you, but a woman will ruin your fuckin’ life. Do you see the difference? Like, a man will cut your arm off and throw it in a river, but he’ll leave you as a human being intact. He won’t fuck with who you are. Women are nonviolent, but they will shit inside of your heart."

- Louis C. K.

Every time I read Girls this and Boys that etc. anywhere, this monologue comes to mind. Louis C. K. is fucking amazing.

9:Ever had a poem or song written about you?
Oh, dozens. Of the "Roses are red, Violets are blue..." subcategory. Nothing like, concrete or anything.

10:When is the last time you played the air guitar?
Today morning, in the shower, when I was jamming to Kenny Rogers.
Don't judge.

11:Do you have any strange phobias?
I have an irrational fear of fish heads. They're a delicacy where I'm from, and so forth. But when my food has a face, and that too of a cooked fish I will scoot as far away from the dining table as possible.

12:Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?
Yes. I was 3. Waddling around the house, and I found a HUGE bit of melted candlewax. So naturally, 3 year old me stuck it up her nose.
I don't remember much, but I do recall cold steel tweezers, dazzling pain and an angry lady who resembled my mum.

13:What’s your religion?
Technically Hindu, but I don't practice it. So, Agnostic.

14:If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?
Walking around the city, and cycling on empty roads late at night.

15:Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?
Behind it. My face breaks cameras.

16:Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?
GAH! I listen to a lot of Radiohead, Led Zeppelin, Arctic Monkeys, Franz Ferdinand et al. I also listen to a lot of Girls' Generation. :P
So it's all just bands I listen to most, no favourite and all.

17:What was the last lie you told?
I wrote the student editorial article, it's just at home.

18:Do you believe in karma?
Yeah, to an extent. What goes around comes around, that sort of thing. 

19:What does your URL mean?
stfumolly expands to "Shut the Fuck Up, Molly". I'm Molly. Pretty self-explanatory.

20:What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?
Weakness: A dangerously low self esteem and a plethora of trust issues.
Strength: My sense of humour.

21:Who is your celebrity crush?
Hahah, celebrity :crush: it seems. Joseph Gordon Levitt. Tina Fey. Chris O'Dowd. Christina Hendricks. Benedict Cumberbatch. Alexander Skarsgard. Edward Norton. Need I go on?

22:Have you ever gone skinny dipping?
Of course, yes.

23:How do you vent your anger?
I cuss like a sailor. I write. I listen to Radiohead. I cry.

24:Do you have a collection of anything?
Posters, pokemon cards, stickers, text messages. That sort of thing.

25:Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?
I don't prefer one over another, but I talk over the phone more often.

26:Are you happy with the person you’ve become?
I'm never, ever happy with the way I am. At the age of 10, I thought I'd be awesome at 12. At 12, I hated myself and thought I'd be awesome at 16. I'm going to be 18 in 2 weeks. This doesn't feel right at all.

"And in my mind
I imagine so many things
Things that aren't really happening
And when they put me in the ground

I'll start pounding the lid,
Saying, "I haven't finished yet,
I still have a tattoo to get,
That says, 'I'm living in the moment'".

And it's funny how I imagined 
That I could win this win-less fight
Maybe it isn't all that funny
That I've been fighting all my life
But maybe I have to think it's funny
If I want to live before I die
And maybe it's funniest of all
To think I'll die before I actually
See
That I am exactly the person that I want to be."

27:What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?
I loathe the screech of chalk on a blackboard, and the sound of people throwing up. I love the sound of popcorn popping in the microwave, the tap-tap of keyboards, and the shower running.

28:What’s your biggest “what if”?
What if I got stuck in one place for my entire life, living the sedentary life I promised myself I never would?

29:Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?
Yes, and yes. I refuse to believe that we're the only life forms that exist out there. It's bullshit.

30:Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.
Right: Blanket.
Left: Nothing.

31:Smell the air. What do you smell?
Nothing extraordinary.

32:What’s the worst place you have ever been to?
Tirupati. Place of worship. I should have known. Yuuuuck.

33:Choose: East Coast or West Coast?
India? West Coast!

34:Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?
Andy Samberg.

35:To you, what is the meaning of life?
Honestly, I have no inkling as to why I'm here. But the fact of the matter is that I am here, so the answer must be out there somewhere.

36:Define Art.
Wolfram Alpha defines art as "the creation of beautiful or significant things". I'll go with that.

37:Do you believe in luck?
Of course, yes. Just that I never seem to have any, ever.

38:What’s the weather like right now?
Sunny.

39:What time is it?
3 pm.

40:Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?
No, I don't drive. Yes, I have crashed.

41:What was the last book you read?
"The Happy Prince and Other Tales", by Oscar Wilde. Particularly the story of the Nightingale and The Rose. That story hits me hard right in the feelings. ;_;

42:Do you like the smell of gasoline?
Nah, not really. That smell is so overrated.

43:Do you have any nicknames?
Moll, Molly, Mollywobbles, Molecules, Medusa etc.

44:What was the last film you saw?
The Big Lebowski. And ever since I did, I've just been watching Gutterballs over and over again and jamming to Kenny Rogers.

45:What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?
Well, I was running around school and fell down, and this girl fell on top of me. And I developed acute appendicitis. That counts, yes?

46:Have you ever caught a butterfly?
Yeah.

47:Do you have any obsessions right now?
The Fleet Foxes. And askreddit.

48:What’s your sexual orientation?
Straight.

49:Ever had a rumour spread about you?
Not that I know of, none.

50:Do you believe in magic?
“Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.” - Arthur C. Clarke.

51:Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?
Nah. The people involved aren't usually worth holding grudges against.

52:What is your astrological sign?
A true blue Scorpio. Or so, some say.

53:Do you save money or spend it?
I spend. Like crazy. It's not cool.

54:What’s the last thing you purchased?
My bus ticket.

55:Love or lust?
LOOOOVE.

56:In a relationship?
Noope.

57:How many relationships have you had?
Like, one-ish.

58:Can you touch your nose with your tongue?
No. :[

59:Where were you yesterday?
Mostly at chemistry tuition, and then at a Chinese restaurant.

60:Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?
Pink Fight Club poster, pink Powerpuff Girls poster, pink post-it notes.

61:Are you wearing socks right now?
No.

62:What’s your favourite animal?
I like all animals. Tralala.
But otters mostly.

63:What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?
I don't have any secret weapon. Either they like me, or they don't.

64:Where is your best friend?
One's at some tuition, another is sleeping at home, and yet another is over a thousand miles away from me.

65:Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

66:What is your heritage?
East Bengal-West Bengal hybrid bong.

67:What were you doing last night at 12AM?
Reading fanfiction in the dark.

68:What do you think is Satan’s last name?
Newell. Give us Portal 3, dammit!

69:Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

Yeah. I'm only human.

70:Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?
I don't set parameters for the kind of friends I'd like to have. But sure, I'd totally be friends with a person like myself.

71:You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?
DOG! HOLD ON! :throws clothes off, jumps into canal and saves dog:
Plot Twist: Dog's owner turns out to be Boss, and we become BFFs.

72:You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?
a) I'd tell a few people.
b) I guess I'd live out my days doing what made me happy.
c) Yes, I would be afraid. Everyone who says they aren't afraid of dying is a big, fat liar.

73:You can only have one of these things; trust or love.
Trust all the way. Yes, I am a hopeless quasi-romantic, but love without any trust? Really?

74:What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?
Ukelele Anthem- Amanda Palmer, Airbrushed- Anamanaguchi, Brimful of Asha- Cornershop.

75:What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?
3588.

76:In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?
Trust. Common interests. The ability to make awkward silences not seem awkward. Never running of things to talk about.
Etc.

77:How can I win your heart?
Be into the same bizzarro crap as myself. Beat me at a game of DDR. Put forth relevant points to the "Iron Man vs. Batman" debate. Either I will hate you or love you from the bottom of my heart. :P

78:Can insanity bring on more creativity?
"Ya da obviously it can"- Sripradha.

79:What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?
To not go to Deeksha post-10th standard to study. Yeah.

80:What size shoes do you wear?
Seven.

81:What would you want to be written on your tombstone?
"Died living in the moment".

82:What is your favourite word?
Infundibulum.

83:Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.
GO PLANET! ALL YOUR POWERS COMBINED I AM CAPTAIN PLANET
CAPTAIN PLANET
HE'S THE HEEERO
GONNA TAKE POLLUTION
DOWN TO ZEEEERO

84:What is a saying you say a lot?
"Don't judge me!"

85:What’s the last song you listened to?
Lonely Boy- The Black Keys.
OHH WHOA OHHH I GOT THE LOVE THAT KEEPS ME WAIITING  :3

86:Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?
Blue and orange. I liked them long before Portal was out.

87:What is your current desktop picture?
Screencap of the dance scene from Pulp Fiction.

88:If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?
I can't think of anyone right now. :|

89:What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?
What my internet escapades consist of.

90:One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?
Que sera sera. I'm not sticking around to find out.

91:You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?
Shapeshifting. Or apparating. Yeah okay, I'm a big fan of Mystique's family's superpowers, so what.

92:You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?
Any instance from the summer of 2011, before my best friend moved away.

93:You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?
My best friend's mother's death.
We were in school when we heard the news. She'd had a heart attack in her sleep. It felt like a tight slap in the face from reality. It's like, you know a person really well and speak to them often, and it feels like you're going to be able to talk to them and see them for the rest of your life. And then one day, that person is gone. Wiped out of existence. You're never going to see them again. 
Reality stings really hard.
We ran from school to the funeral, and we just stood there, held each other and cried and cried. I hadn't seen my friend in a long while, and when I finally got to see her, it was like this. 

94:You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

Andy Samberg >.>

95:You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?
Corfu, Greece.

96:Do you have any relatives in jail?
Not that I know of, no.

97:Have you ever thrown up in the car?
Oh yeah.

98:Ever been on a plane?
Nope.

99:If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?
O HAI YOUZ

It's a colour, not a disease.

[Note: Forgive me if what I've written seems too biased or if I've generalized too much. That isn't the intention. It's just something that's been on my mind recently.]


"Oke brandy diye chaan korao; theek hoye jaabe."
[Translation: Bathe her in brandy; she'll be alright.]

A 'concerned relative' suggested this to my mum back when I was little, as a remedy for the colour of my skin. Yeah. :L
You know, it feels rather shitty that everyone says these things about facing racism outside the country, when in truth you don't even have to look further than your own family.

Well, truth be told, it doesn't feel all that shitty now compared to back when my mum told me about the said incident. I was 10, and rather full of radical notions. Now I'm 17, and still full of radical notions, but most of them concern certain tv show fandoms and tic tac flavours.
Anyway. So a wide spectrum of emotions was felt along the course of that day, ranging from amusement to confusion to pure anger.
Anger at those relatives, who gave my mum so much flak for not producing a kid of a lighter complexion.

Anger, and frustration at myself, for not being a much more favourable colour.

As a kid, I always had a bone to pick with the colour of my skin. I'm not quite sure why, though. Society? Television? Other people? Probably. I thought there was something wrong with me. Why do I have to be so dark? Why me, God? Why me?
It was very unfair to me, in every sense of the phrase.
Apparently I used to ask my mum, "Ma, why is my skin heavy?"
You know, because the opposite of light was heavy and the word 'dark' was unknown to me then.
I find this hilariously sad.

As a country, we're all up in arms about 'Unity in Diversity' and the whole shebang. It's true, in that we're all united in the mutual hate we have for each other.
I just don't get the obsession with fair skin, and moreover, the disgust our country seems to have for dark skin. 
White is a colour. Black is a colour. Brown is a colour. Hell, blue is a colour. Why can't we just accept the fact that they're all colours and get along already?

I'll never forget what my mum told me with regard to my so-called identity crisis. It was something along the lines of:

 "You need to accept the fact that you're dark-skinned. You will face a lot of flak from society because of that, and because of your gender too. You have to learn to deal with it. You can't let the stupid comments people pass about the colour of your skin get to you. That's a weakness, and will be exploited to no end. You're the brightest kid I know. You'll do just fine. And promise me you'll stay miles away from that fairness cream crap forever."

So yes, I am dark-skinned. And yes, I am a girl. Nothing is ever going to change that.
And you know what else?
My skin colour is awesome. I am awesome.
Nothing is ever going to change that, either.

Pusheen The Cat: The Joys Of Having A Younger Sibling

Pusheen The Cat: The Joys Of Having A Younger Sibling:    

Gah, I can't stress on the adorableness of this enough!
SO CUTE.
:dies:

That sinking feeling...

Summer, 2000.

It had been 3 days since the torture began.
You couldn't stand it anymore; the screaming, the crying, the god-awful smell of chlorinated water and your fuhrer-esque father yelling at you from the other end of the pool.

"Swim, goddamn you!"

Easier said than done.
You knew what to do; Papa had shown you a dozen times, but when it boiled down to actually doing it you were hopeless.
All the other days were the same: You would cling to Papa and scream like the traumatized five-year old that you were. By the end of the lesson, he would be covered in red scratch marks and you would be howling to go home as soon as possible.

You were always such a drama queen.

Deciding that you'd had enough of this madness, you climbed out of the pool, half-sobbing and hiccuping.
"Swimming. Who needs it? I'll just never go near water ever again," you thought to yourself.

Meanwhile, Papa followed you out of the pool, dragged you over to the deep end, and flung you into it, without any warning.
There was a big splash, and then utter silence. Everything around you went hazy, and you could feel the water closing in on you as you sank. For some reason, you tried to breathe, and swallowed a big gulp of chlorine water.

Was this it? Was this how it was all going to end?
I could see it clearly:
"In memory of Snickerdoodle, who departed this life on the 5th of May, 2000, while learning to swim at the local pool, aged all of 5 years. All she got was this lousy epitaph."

And then, out of a fit of desperation from not wanting to die yet, you shut your eyes tight and started flailing frantically. You had absolutely no idea what you were doing, and you wouldn't know until later, but it was working! You continued thrashing around until your head hit the side of the pool, and you caught hold of the bar.
Between hysterically sobbing and coughing up copious amounts of water, you managed to yell out. "I hate you, Papa!" at the top of your lungs.

Papa bought you a celebratory orange popsicle on the way home.

12 years down the line, you realize you never thanked him for either.

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

Does a baby bird thank its Dad for teaching it to fly? I highly doubt it. As soon as it learns, it's gone, never to return.
I guess Bird Dad doesn't hold it against him.
Baby Bird is eternally grateful to Bird Dad, and Bird Dad, just like any other Dad, in his mysterious way of knowing things, just knows.

Things that never fail to make me laugh.

Posting for future reference. :P

'tis a matter of the heart.

"You don't contain even an ounce of romance in you."

Romance. An oft-used word.
What does it mean? How is one :romantic:?
Does getting flowers and going on dates mean being romantic?
Does one have to dress up and look all pretty in order to be loved?

Maybe that's the case. And I'm okay with it.
I don't mind flowers.
Or dressing up for dates.
Or kisses.
Or any other romantic cliche out there.

I do watch romantic movies.
I teared up a little when I finished reading 'Love Story'.
To call me unromantic is kind of harsh, non?

Don't get me wrong; I'm open to the idea of romance.
But the funny thing about all this is:

It just isn't me.

I don't really like flowers. They wilt and rot.
Kissing? Forget about it. I find the idea of holding hands in public too awkward.
And I cannot get myself all dolled up and pretty for a guy.
Makeup is sticky and weird, and threading one's eyebrows is some ancient Chinese method of torture. I'm certain of it.

I'm me.
Strange, unromantic me.
Armed with a sharp tongue and sarcasm.
Full of opinions that I will defend with my life.

But does that mean I've never thought about what it feels like to be loved?
Love. That which goes beyond romance, and everything else.
I have wondered what finding love would be like.
What it would mean to have someone to treasure. Someone who thought of me as...precious. Significant.
And if I could find such a person by being myself.

Myself?
My weird, childish, unromantic self.

I believe in a love that encompasses any kind of romance.

I believe in a love so strong, it sticks around long after the romance is dead.
If I ever do fall in love, it certainly won't be short term.

This is me.
Weird, unromantic, I'll agree.

But capable of that crazy feeling called love.

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

Note: The quote is something someone remarked about me, in the past week. I'm sure they didn't mean any harm, but that line really rustled my jimmies, man. So I got thinking, and stuff.

I never thought I was capable of writing such mushy stuff. Time to crawl under my rock and die of embarrassment.

I am not a radish.

A few days ago, while sitting in class and talking of inconsequential things between mouthfuls of someone's lunch, the subject of crying came up. One thing led to another, and everyone's most depressing experiences were being shared. I, not being one to contribute to such conversations with ease, just shut up and listened to everyone else.
"You know Snickerdoodle, I've never seen you cry before. I mean, everyone else here I've seen, but not you," says one girl.
An awkward silence ensues, followed by some awkward laughing.
What I find funny about this entire ordeal is that just the day before, I shut myself in my room, put on Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind [Which, according to a friend, is a movie people such as myself would particularly like. I don't know what he meant.], and had a good, long cry about everything in general.
A catharsis of sorts.

:Some: people seem to think that I'm some confident, feeling-less, chilled out sonofabitch.
I'm quite curious as to where they get this idea from.
Truth be told, I'm an emotionally volatile mess. I take the stupidest of things too seriously. Usually by the end of a week I'm ready to burst from all the repressed anger, tears and bile. And I'm especially secretive about these things.
But people need to stop assuming that just because I don't make a public display of my emotions, that I'm an emotionless, sarcastic piece of shit. Heck, for a while I had started to believe it too.

I may be sarcastic.
I may be a piece of shit.
I most likely will not tell you even if I feel like I've sunk to the lowest of the low.
But I am not emotionless. Just because I don't cry in public, does not make me a radish.

This blog lacks Christina Hendricks.

hfajsdhffalahafjldafa;fjdfnvcsjdfhldjsl

So here's some.

My blog consists mostly, if not only of various rants, chronicles of dreams and Bukowski.

I only recently started reading Bukowski's poems, and I have enjoyed everything- well, most everything I've read so far. I love the gloomy, bitter, deadpan cynicism of it all.
Here's looking at you, you wonderful, cranky old drunk man. :hat-tip:

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

Reading Murakami, Bukowski, Sylvia Plath, Vonnegut et al.
I can almost imagine an older version of myself, reading this blog after a long time and thinking to herself what a pretentious little asshat she used to be. -.-

More Bukowski?

Hello, minuscule portion of the world that chooses to read my blog.

I haven't blogged in a while. No significant thoughts to share, no bizarre dreams to document.

Now that I mention it, hardly anything that happens to me can be deemed blogworthy.
Earlier this week I dreamt about being trapped in a crashing plane filled with convicts, a la Con Air, but everyone had horse heads. So? Who gives a damn?
[I did have that dream. No joke.]

To quote Easy A, a movie I have watched at least 3 times during the course of today:  


"I don't know what your generation's fascination is with documenting your every thought...but I can assure you, they're not all diamonds. "Roman is having an OK day, and bought a Coke Zero at the gas station. Raise the roof." Who gives a rat's ass?"


Exactly. Not many people.
And to be honest, I'd have it no other way. When a significant portion of your family is out and about on facebook, you REALLY need to check and double check anything you do on there.Which means I can't have status updates like "Snickerdoodle has been wasting her life away by reading smutty fanfiction and drinking mango juice. Because YOLO"
You get the idea, no?

So, in a way, this blog is my solace, my treehouse. I'm not bound by certain :norms: that I need to keep in mind when I post things on here. I can vent and vent as much as I like and not have to be answerable to anybody. And Lord knows how much I can vent.

God, blogs. Without them I'd still probably be trying to maintain a diary, and we all know how excellent my track record is in that area. :shudder:

Kthxbai.

Returned home to this piece of awesomeness.

 

As far as cake icing messages go, this one :cough: takes the cake.

"the crunch" (Charles Bukowski).

too much too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody.

laughter or
tears

haters
lovers

strangers with faces like
the backs of
thumb tacks

armies running through
streets of blood
waving winebottles
bayoneting and fucking
virgins.

an old guy in a cheap room
with a photograph of M. Monroe.

there is a loneliness in this world so great
that you can see it in the slow movement of
the hands of a clock

people so tired
mutilated
either by love or no love.

people just are not good to each other
one on one.

the rich are not good to the rich
the poor are not good to the poor.

we are afraid.

our educational system tells us
that we can all be
big-ass winners

it hasn’t told us
about the gutters
or the suicides.

or the terror of one person
aching in one place
alone

untouched
unspoken to

watering a plant.

people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.
people are not good to each other.

I suppose they never will be.
I don’t ask them to be.

but sometimes I think about
it.

the beads will swing
the clouds will cloud
and the killer will behead the child
like taking a bite out of an ice cream cone.

too much
too little

too fat
too thin
or nobody

more haters than lovers.

people are not good to each other.
perhaps if they were
our deaths would not be so sad.

meanwhile I look at young girls
stems
flowers of chance.

there must be a way.

surely there must be a way that we have not yet
thought of.

who put this brain inside of me?

it cries
it demands
it says that there is a chance.

it will not say
“no.”

Merely Speculation.

You just stick to your kpop and radiohead, and watch the world pass you by. Never change.

"Stay the same, never change"?
That, in my opinion, is the most terrifying thing to write in anyone's yearbook. Why would anyone wish that for a person? The last thing I would like to remain is a stupid, hormonal and possibly borderline schizophrenic individual.

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

Everything I've done so far has just been a passing phase. I've eventually lost interest in it, and never thought about that thing again. Is the entirety of life just a bunch of phases? Am I just going to lose interest in any, or all the choices I make in the future? I suppose so.

In the end, what differentiates one's life from another is how much more anal retentive is one person than the other. How much longer we can hold on to a choice and base our lives upon it.
The ability to move from one choice to another is what keeps us alive. The moment we lose interest in everything, we're considered dead, I guess.

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.

There's something about clouds. No matter how bad a photographer you might be, a picture you take of clouds always comes out beautiful.

A picture I took just before the rains started. Of course, nearly rolled off the roof and died during the process.
You win some, you lose some.

In the perfect world, calculus would be a defunct subject.
All the females would look like Christina Hendricks have godly skin, shapely waists and glossy hair.

And Karen Carpenter's voice.

The males would be like Don Draper and Sterling Archer. Probably.
Sans the douchebaggery and chain smoking, of course. I don't know.
We'd all have Wisteria Lane houses, with white picket fences, immaculately trimmed hedges, and friendly neighbours.
Imagine that. A utopia, in every sense of the word.

That kind of perfection, it's unreal.
Don Draper and Sterling Archer are assholes.
Karen Carpenter had a severe eating disorder that eventually claimed her life.
Wisteria Lane has more than its fair share of dark, murky secrets.
Even the word 'Utopia' comes from the Greek word for "no place". No place. You cheeky Greeks.

Perfection is a myth.

And to be perfectly honest, who needs that kind of perfection?
You know how something sweet tastes nice, but something unbearably sweet makes you sick to the stomach? The very same funda applies here.
Simply put, Perfection is boring. Imperfections maketh a man.
--------------------

I seem to have come down with the cold of the century. My brain is slowly dribbling out my nose. This is probably another one of those acts of God. By staying put indoors, I can't get soaked in the rain and die of pneumonia.

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