Okay, so I wasn't tagged, per *se*...

...but then, it isn't my fault my blogging friends are lame and far too passive for my liking and don't do this kind of fun stuff. Stupid poetic betches who like to intellectualise their very basic, very commonly-felt emotions. Yaa boo sucks to you. :@

So if I haven't already completely pissed off the few readers that I have, I will now proceed with this post, as shall you.

Life ten years ago:

Ten years ago, I spent a majority of my day sitting around in my chaddis. No, really, that was what R (earlier referred to as the Wife- incidentally, we're legal now! Not really, 'cause yknow, we aren't allowed to do that shit till we're 21, but WOOHOO FOR GAY PEOPLE, says I!) used to see me in most of the time. She'd come upstairs after school, sometime in the afternoon, and be all "Dude, where are your CLOTHES?" and I'd look at her weirdly and say "I'm WEARING them" which I wasn't, really, because do a petticoat type thing and white bloomers count as clothes, really? Anyhow, that. And she reminded me of this really stupid game that she and Jahangir and I played, something about Aliens and Heroes, and how the heroes had to collect the DNA pieces (which were these small spiky ball thingumajigs that were part of a game we had- anyway fuck that, it's a whole other story) that were scattered around the house, and once they collected them all they had the power to defeat the evil Alien (we took turns, there was always one Alien and two Heroes, and usually Jahangir got to be a Hero cause he knew how to use the  joystick and make it into a very believable steering thingy of the ohsoawesome Hero Jet. The Alien was always lame and had to walk to get anywhere. Bleddy.) We came up with weird games.

Oh, and school was way messed up back then. I was traumatised by my evil classmates who pretended to be my friend up till break time. Then they'd eat all my Maggi and pretend I didn't exist after. Haraami log.

But then, I was a major bitch too. I mean I think even my family really hated me. Everytime Neo and Jahangir and I played the car game (Neo used to have this kickass plastic roll-out map thing of a minor city and she had lots of toy cars, and we got to choose which cars and houses we wanted and stuff) I'd get all sulky and tantrum-y if either of them picked their cars first 'cause I wanted the coolest one(blame the Id damnit, the ID!), and then everytime Jahangir very generously let me take his, I'd get paranoid that he was using reverse psychology on me and then I'd be all "HEY WAIT! Screw you, I'm just gonna stick with the car I picked! HA! How d'ya like THAT!" and he'd say "Hey, that's cool too, thanks for letting me keep my car, Poe" which lead me to believe that he didn't use reverse psychology at all and I was being a moron and I should've taken his stupid car when I could've and then I'd throw a huge tantrum and be all "screw you guys, I don't wanna play no more!"  

Dumbass? Yeah, pretty much.

Life five years ago:

Oh, fuck. This was the stupid tomboy period. R and I went insane with that shit. We cut our hair in these incredibly ugly boy-cut styles that were similar to SRK's in Kucch Kucch Hota Hai and Salman Khan in that lame romantic movie where his hair is all Snape-like. Ew. And wore really really baggy shirts(not that we had anything to hide, really) and walked with a dude-esque swagger and hoopla.

And we played football with a basketball.

What can I say, our older brothers never let us have their footballs. Bastards. 

Oh oh oh, and the number of idiotic fights we had, man. Stuff about "omgah, you called me STUPID BEHIND MY BACK?! I HATE YOU R! YOU SUCK! I'M NEVER GONNA TALK TO YOU, EVER!" and "POE, YOU STUPID LOSER(cause words like bitch and ass were considered mortal sins), THANKS FOR NOT CALLING ME TODAY, I KNOW YOU SECRETLY HATE ME, GUESS WHAT, I SECRETLY HATE YOU TOO! SO THERE!" 

And there was this purdy glass kangaroo which I gave to her when I came back from Australia, which kept shuttling between her house and mine during particularly explosive fights. Jahangir used to point and laugh at our stupidity, and Ma used to snigger behind her hand whenever R stomped upstairs and slammed(not with enough force to break it, though) the kangaroo down on my table, giving me the dirts before turning on her heel and stomping back out. 

Oh man, these memories are bringing tears to my eyes, I'm laughing so hard my stomach hurts :P

Life tomorrow:

It's the first day back at school, and I think I'm bunking it. Because I'm awesome like that. I wonder how weird it'll feel, seeing everyone again after two months. Slightly weird, maybe. School's just a weird place, generally. But then maybe that's just me, and today.

And I haven't even finished all the homework. ShitFuckDamn.

Anyway. Screw dat.

Five Locations I'd like to run away to:

I dunno, I dunno. I'd like to go back to Tagore Point, that place was just magical. Plus, talk about major incentive to go on a long, painful, makes-you-heave-and-despise-slopes-more-than-you-anyway-do trek every day, man.

And maybe End Point. But then, not on my own. I'd like to have a few people with me. Oh oh oh, and Chile, some day. And the Oxford Bookstore, cause they let you sit there and read all their books without buying any of them, and they have this awesome coffee bar type thing too. I want to live there, for all of next summer man. Or, y'know, for atleast a week.

Then there's Cape Comorin! MAN! THAT PLACE! You never want to leave! It's just so awe inspiring, with the gigantic waves that make huge crashing noises against the rocks, and the wild winds that whip your hair around and toss me around like a frickin' leaf. What sheer beauty, I tell youse truly. 

And Bombay. Aah, Bombay. The City of Lurve. Not of another person, necessarily, I add.

Five Bad Habits:

I talk too much. End up saying all sorts of stupid shit I really shouldn't say. It's very Tourettes Syndrome-esque, sometimes. And I run myself down a lot. Which is just stupid, I mean, anyway other people do that shit, what kind of MORON jumps on the bandwagon and does it to themSELVES? The really STUPID kind of moron, that's who. 

Oh hey, pardon the unintentional pun there. Totally unintentional. Reelly.

And I procrastinate, all the time, and never get anything done, so really, I think I deserve the running down. I suck. Plus, I have major insecurity issues. And who said you can't have insecurity AND trust issues at the same time? You can so! Living proof, typing this to you, betches!

Five Things I Will Never Wear:

You know those really teeny bopper-ish dresses? That are tight on the bottom (literally, it ends at your ass, Jesus H) and is all loose and floaty on top, and all the slutty chicks wear them in hip hop videos that feature clubs? Yeah, those.

And platform shoes. Ack.

And in Charlie's Angels, there's this particular scene where they visit some dude's home and Drew Barrymore's wearing this weirdass short dress that's all poofy and has lots of skirts and when she bends you can see her knickers, I'm never wearing one of those either. Or that really ugly not-dress that Julia Roberts wore in Pretty Woman. Some idiot woman copied that shit on Bollywood also. So ooglay. 

Don't think I'd ever wear a belly button piercing either. But then, I have these weird impulses every so often, and given the fact that next year I'm pretty much completely free of all parental restrictions of that variety, I might just. Blech.

Something I Want To Acheive By Next Year:

Some semblance of self-esteem. Yeah, no, I dunno, maybe read all of Kerouac's books, and get out of my little cocoon of apathy and learn something about the world. Start something, y'know? 

What Will I Miss About 2008:

ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NOTHING.

Something that Impacted Me Last Year:

New school. 'Nuff said.

5 Things To Do Before I Die:

Ride a bike. Like, as a passenger, cause I was traumatised by a bike accident that had me in a cast for a month when I was eight, and so I never learned how to. Ride a bike.

Incidentally I started and finished a sentence with those three words, ha!

Have sex. I refuse to die a virgin.

Name someone Donny. Anybody. My kid, or Jahangir's, or Neo's, or Papi's, or Angeeda's, SOMEONE WILL NAME THEIR KID DONNY CAUSE I SAID SO!

Sing onstage. Like, properly. With me very own band and everythang. And if we turn out to be awesomely awesome, which we have to be cause I'm in it, we'll do it more than once, even. Like, dood. Yeah.

Run around naked for a whole day. I know I've already done that, for more than a whole year even, cause I was a freee baby, but I mean like now, after growing boobs and all that. Not that I want to show my boobs off or anything, but y'know, I want to do it as an adult, I meant.

And now I tag anyone else who read this, and laughed at all. 

We're All Mad Here.

I feel like I need to say something very heavy and very very cutting, mostly to myself.
9:39.
And counting.



I'm running around arbitrarily grabbing words, looking for the right ones, but they're fluttering just out of reach. The bastards.



School should start soon. All this alone-ness is making me loony.




Twenty seconds have passed.




See you on the other side, fellow fertilized spermlings.

Excuse Me While I Kiss The Sky.

Abbas Kiarostami.

With each crescendo, another shower of rain began. The eagle swooped in circles, surfing the thermals as the melody of jubilance played on.

The little brown puddles bubbled with the force of the rain drops. It made you want to rip your clothes off and run with the wind.

Ah, the sweet smell of wet earth.

I can feel the faintest caress of the cold wind. The rain continues drumming its quiet beat on the green asbestos awning.

Pianissimo, now.

The frogs will come out soon.

I'm still sweating.

I want to roll around in the dirty puddle. Feel the water.

Saeglopur thunders in my ears.

Running down the road, tripping on the uneven tarring, slipping on the smooth wetness, I will climb down the tree and over the fence, run down the road, past school, past the metro work, past the cars with their a/c's on and their windows up, I run until everything falls away and my own heartbeat feels like a countdown to the end of the world.

I can feel the sweat drop down my neck.

Dance lightly on those black and white keys as you whisper your song.

The stink of sticky human skin. Alive.

The birds are drying themselves off now. In complete synchronization. Weird.

And the world is still again.

Diminuendo.

"That's the freighttrain of HELL, mothafucka."

So I paraphrased.



And is that a band aid?

I am so full of shit, sometimes.

We are a generation of disillusioned poets, artists, writers, dancers, corporate sharks and the deadbeat parasites that are a compulsory add-on.

Not sure if that made sense.

Pfft. We’re always the same.

See, this is the trouble with having too many people.

You’re NEVER original.

DOWN WITH IMPROVED HEALTHCARE!

Mother calls.

After All This Time...

I am nothing but an amalgamation of a thousand people.

It's so much easier, using lyrics of songs than describing how I feel with my own words.

Yeah, I'm unoriginal like that, bitch. Deal.

To All You Beautiful, Beautiful People.

Don't you know that I'll be around to guide you
Through your weakest moments to leave them behind you
Returning nightmares only shadows
We'll cast some light and you'll be alright for now
Crosses all over, heavy on your shoulders
The sirens inside you waiting to step forward
Disturbing silence darkens your sight
We'll cast some light and you'll be alright for now
Crosses all over the boulevard
The streets outside your window overflooded
People staring they know you've been broken
Repeatedly reminded by the looks on their faces
Ignore them tonight and you'll be alright
We'll cast some light and you'll be alright

Blargh.
Jose Gonzales puts it into words infinitely better than I ever could.


Sometimes it scares people to know that someone cares. Does it scare you when I say you make me happy? Well you do. More than you know, maybe. Sometimes it hits me like a tidal wave, this intense rush of love, it's so overwhelming that I have to step back and take a breath. It's scary because I don't know how I'd handle your goodbyes. Because there's always a goodbye. Everything has an expiration date.


Peh. I feel like such an idiotic sap for taking it all so seriously. But can you blame me for wanting to hold on for dear life to the people that matter most?

Because she said so.

There is nothing more uninteresting than knowing everything there is to know about yourself.

I do not wish to know how I will react to given situation before it arises, and I do not want to know how exactly I will reply to a given remark.

Comfort in the known is far outweighed by the excitement of unfamiliar territory.

...As he said.

Sometimes, it just GETS to me, ya know? *sighs*

I'm very very not groovy right now.
So this is just going to be a very pointless rant.
Don't bother reading, really.

FUCK ANGELS AND DEMONS
FUCK ALL YOU IDIOTS WHO'RE SO DAMNED TAKEN WITH DAN FLIPPING BROWN
FUCK ALL YOU CONTROLLING PARENTS WHO WON'T EVEN LET US BREATHE WITHOUT RAPPING US ON OUR KNUCKLES FOR BEING TOO FUCKING LOUD
FUCK YOU PMSING BITCHES WHO HANG UP WHEN PEOPLE ARE FRICKIN MESSING WITH YOU

FUCK YOU EXHIBITIONIST ASSHOLES WHO PUT YOUR WHOLE LIVES ON FUCKING FACEBOOK AND THEN GET ALL UP IN IT WHEN PEOPLE KNOW OBSCURE RANDOM ONLY-IF-YOU-LIVE-WITH-ME THINGS ABOUT YOU

FUCK YOU E, FOR PUSHING ME TO DO SHIT I DON'T WANT TO, AND I WILL NEVER DO, EVER, SO BUILD A BRIDGE AND GET THE FUCK OVER IT ALREADY

FUCK YOU DOUCHEBAGS WHO SUCK AT BEING GOOD BOYFRIENDS

FUCK YOU, STUPID SCHOOL BOARD

FUCK YOU CRAP COMPUTER WITH SHIT ASS SPEAKERS THAT NEVER FRICKIN WORK

FUCK YOU STUPID JUNIORS WHO PUT UP TEN TRILLION BAJILLION PICTURES ON FACEBOOK OF YOUR GODDAMNED MUG, GET OVER YOUR GODDAMNED SELVES ALREADY YOU STUPID WANNABE-WHORES, YOU ARE NOT THAT GOOD LOOKING

FUCK YOU STUPID SUPERFICIAL BITCHES WHO THINK IT'S OKAY TO BE 'HALF MARRIED' WHEN YOU'RE FOURTEEN FUCKING YEARS OLD

FUCK YOU MORONS WHO USE THE WORD "SEX" ALL OVER THE FLIPPING PLACE WHEN WE'RE NOT TALKING ABOUT ANYTHING EVEN REMOTELY RELATED TO IT

GET IT OUT OF YOUR GODDAMNED SYSTEM AND GO GET LAID ALREADY YOU CUNTBAGS

AND FUCK YOU JIZGUZZLERS WHO THINK YOU'RE SO GODDAMNED HOT BECAUSE YOU OWN A FUCKING GUITAR AND SWIM IN POOLS OF CASH

I HOPE YOU ALL DIE IN POOLS OF YOUR OWN VOMIT WITH NO PANTS ON AND NO ONE TO CLAIM YOUR STINKING BODIES

Well.

That was cathartic.

See you next week, y'all.

JIMMMMY, YOU RULE! *groupie squeal*

Shout out to the creator of the awesome psychedelic header thingumajig.

Grazi, JSJ. :)

Crazy Lady Bored.

Dude. I'm like a whole 40 posts behind Pot. And I started before she did, too.


Like, double-u-tee-eff?


Hm. I only have more plotless teenage fluff to put up. Which, I think, is now getting to be insipid.


Anyhow. How was your day, potential comment-leaver?

Pot Kettler. Stupid COW.

The noise was deafening. I could feel the beat of the bass thumping deep in side my chest. The night air was cool, but standing in the midst of the gyrating bodies of my fellow classmates, I could feel the sweat trickling down my back.

The crowd around me slowly thinned as I sashayed backwards through the melee. As I hit something solid- presumably the wall- I wriggled against it, wiping my back against my shirt.

"Ahem."

My eyes flew open as I nearly jumped out of my skin.

D.

I hastily moved sideways and pressed up against the actual wall.

"Jeez." 

He smirked at me. "Yeah, hey to you too."

I ignored the look he gave me- I was too busy trying to slow my heartbeat down. I had wriggled against him. Yowza. And His face had been so close, I could feel his breath on my neck when he gave his sarky little cough.

Watch your step, M. BREATHE. 

"How come you're not dancing?" I said over the music, leaning up for his benefit.

He got up off the wall and did an awkward butt wiggle. I snickered as he grinned and leaned back again. "Yeah, that's why," he replied.

"'Sokay D, you're so coo' you'll create a rad new fad on the floor with your retarded moves," I said, with a touch of sarcasm.

It was true, though. D was a very popular dude. No matter what level of idiocy he displayed, guys were still intimidated by him, and chicks still swooned at the very sight of him. 

I cursed myself everyday for being one of those bints.

He threw me an arrogant look. "Hell yeah I would!"

I rolled my eyes at him, but smiled despite myself.

M, you DOUCHE.

At that point R, the slimiest little numbnut in our year showed up and slapped D on the back.

"Sup man, where's your girl today? Haven't seen her anywhere."

Grah. Not only did this fudge packer show his ugly mug and ruin a perfectly good(and almost flirty?) conversation, he had to mention Her. Bitch.

D smiled ruefully. "Nah, she couldn't come. Had other stuff to do."

Which was code for She Wasn't Frickin INVITED. 

I smirked. Muhaha. Loser.

"Aah, well. Shit happens. How is she, anyway?" R asked.

My GOD. WHY DO YOU GIVE A FLYING UNICORN'S ARSE, YOU MORON? SHE ISN'T YOUR GIRLFRIEND, AS WELL SUITED AS YOU ARE TO EACH OTHER!! I mentally screamed, banging R's head into the wall until his skull smashed open and his brains splattered all over the floor.

In my head. Obviously.

I tuned out of their conversation as I continued the whiny monologue in my head.

Why the hell is someone like him dating a girl like Her?! Honestly, she's dumber than a 5-year-old on a sugar high! And he, man, D is such a smart kid. And besides her being a total and irreversible retard, she's a ho-bag who runs through boys like tissue paper. And she talks in this annoying high pitched voice. And she's so insipid she makes chalk look fun. What the hell does he SEE in Her?! STUPID BOYS WHO FALL FOR DUMB BLONDE-YET-CUTE WOMEN! AND THIS AFTER HE AND I ACTUALLY HAVE SOME SORT OF CHEMISTRY! STUPID, STUPID BOYS! WHY AM I NOT A LESBIAN, DAM-

"Uhh, you okay M? You look a little...constipated. For lack of a better adjective." D said, interrupting my inner hissy fit. He waved his hand in front of my face again, hiding his grin.

So apparently the inane conversation with the slimeball was over. I shook my head vigorously and rearranged my expression into a party-happy grin. 

"Better?"

He laughed.

"Much."

I smiled slightly.

We leaned back against the wall again, and continued watching everyone else.

Grah. After all this, he still picks Her.

Shit happens, man. A voice said in my head. 

Yeah, well, it happens way too often for my liking, I replied, pouting. Things should be like they are in my head, in their rightful places. Dumbasses like Her end up with dipshits like R, global warming is a myth, and D dates people who travel on the same intellectual wavelength as him.

Stupid reality.

I Haven't Had My Period In Three Months.

Today Ud declined being my case study.

He did it so nicely too, it damn near killed me. Put me in such a funk, I can't even concentrate on study now. Something as routine as math, even. But well, it helps that 12th grade math is getting to be very longwinded, and tedious and redundant these days,. Although who would expect that of math of all subjects (well me, for one, but that's only because I hate math and I suck at it- in which case this semi rant  is entirely unnecessary and pointless. I just realized. Excuse me while I go jump off a cliff.)

...Coming back to point.

Boy George. Who knew rejection could be such a bitch?

Incidentally. To all flamers and potential people-who-will-leave-sexual-inuendos-as-comments. I'm as virginal as virginal gets.

Chowder, y'all.

I Want My Money Back.

He's the perfect height.

Everytime he holds me close, it's the first thing I think to myself.

I could stand there with my head in the crook of his neck and his arms closed around me for an eternity.

He has the softest, most holdable hands I've ever held.

They're always warm, and never fail to calm me down when he rubs slow circles on my back.

I love how he picks my hand up and puts it in his so casually when I fall into step beside him.

I like that he laughs at all my jokes, even the stupid ones.

I like how my long winded inconsequential rants about everything entertain him and make him laugh, really laugh, enough to double over clutching his stomach.

I like how he looks at me with amused affection when he thinks I'm not paying attention.

And Lord, his eyes. He has beautiful eyes. Deep brown, almost black.

I drank it all in as I stood on the sidewalk, sucking on a Cadbury's chocolate bar, my eyes wide. And you. Grinning back at me, standing on the road and waiting expectantly for me to follow you.

And in that moment, I think I loved you.

Could'a, Would'a, Should'a been.

And yet...We're not.

Odds and Ends

I was reading this blog about theatre, just now. Nearly got me writing about inspiring stuff, about Love, Life, and The Universe As I Know It.

But bleah man. I'm 17, apathetic, and of a short attention span. Uninspired and really, not very interesting at all. Poe is a superficial little bitch and I do not know WHY people bother to read this. Except for the occasional funnies I make. Those I like. The rest is kind of just bullshitbullshitmorebullshit. Yeah. Just Bleah.

But it's nice, y'know, seeing people who feel so strongly for something, the way they love it so completely. Hearing them talk about it and all, gives me a vague, slightly blurred idea of what they feel about it.

We had the food fest on Saturday. We had to bake 450 brownies. Ma and I ended up making just over 100. We were supposed to outsource it, but the dude at the bakery was being a dick about it so we got pissed off that did it at home. We were up till 1 in the am. Jeez. Everyone else in the brownies stall made 450, 500, shit. It was mad. And they all looked so GOOD. I ran around all over eating everything and getting comlpimentary popcorn from the popcorn uncles who took a liking to me, yay. Man, so much FOOD. And all so CHEAP! We went to Rave's after, where we ate MORE food. Of the frozen chicken-y variety. Yum yum. I came home and fell asleep at 7. Didn't wake up till 11 th next morning.
And I skipped school today. I've been poisoned by food, apparently. Bleddy. It HAD to happen, didn't it? Stupid effing food fest. It's either that, or dehydration. Is there anyone here who knows the difference? I was all woozy and puke-y and just about ready to pass out all of yesterday. It was horrible. I hate puking. I mean it's satisfying in one way, because then you get rid of the nauseous feeling that takes its time growing in the pit of your stomach, but then you get all trembly and weak after and you're too scared to eat or drink anything. I hate puking.

Anyway, the only thing I've done since morning is talk to people and take an unhealthy number of quizzes. I'm pathetic, I know. But hey, atleast now I know I should've been born in the '50s. In maybe Britain. Or Boston. And that my aura is yellow- 'childish, and the brightest colour in the spectrum' - among other things. Pooh.

The ABRSM screening test is in a few days. I'm not telling Mother. Because of course, I will DEFINITELY not pass. Whatever. Grades are stupid and overrated anyway. I don't care. And honestly, I am going to be GLAD the day I get to put my rickety ol' clarinet to rest. Classical music is not for me and I am not for classical music. Singing is what I was born to do. Even if I'm not the best at it. I'm not the worst either. Hardly. But it just...feels right. The world clicks into place when I'm singing. The fact that I'm a schmuck of a daughter with a slowly possibly-dimming future, a failed musician, a shitty friend and a mediocre everything else doesn't mean shit when the music plays and my voice fits into it perfectly. It's all so...utopian.

Hm. So I'm thinkin, my emo phase is nowhere near over yet. Sigh.
Fuck me.