And there was light...

Nov 28, 2008


It is a story that keeps people awake at night.
People everywhere.

People inside luxury Five-Star hotels. People inside hovels and slums, because their families worked in those hotels. People in one bedroom apartments.
People in other countries.
People inside a newspaper's office. People on the streets.
People who have family members in the armed forces.
People who have no-one, any more.

Terrorism occurs with a purpose. One that is often mis-interpreted. Often widely-publicised. Sometimes, concealed. Sometimes, speculated about.
I wish I could say every kind of terrorism has a common thread. It does, but it is a common knife. A knife that often defeats the very purpose terrorists have in mind, in the first place.
Because somehow, somewhere..their purpose takes second place.

The purpose takes second place. Second place to the suffering, the healing, the destruction, the pain. The anger and the hatred. Long after a tragic disaster like the Bombay Tragedy of now, people are going to remember what precisely what some group wanted, where each member came from or what their main objective was.
But they will remember who, and what they lost first.

And that's where terrorism fails in its objective. Terrorism does more than invoke terror- it invokes hatred. People aren't going to sit in their houses and be afraid forever. People are going to get hurt, be crushed and wake up and move on. People are going to hate terrorists for what they've done, and sooner than later, people are going to seek revenge. By peaceful means or not. Whether it means joining the armed forces because they want to save their country, or becoming a journalist and being on the scene to give people information, or writing about it, or just plain waking up every morning and boarding a train in a station that still reeks of blood from innocent people and the fumes from an unfair gunshot. People are going to get up, and fight in whatever way they find best. People aren't going to sit at home and be terrorized forever.

Terrorism fails in its second objective too- it doesn't bring people apart. Maybe in this case it will have diplomatic consequences for international business in India, but the truth always prevails. Other countries aren't quite as naive to think that this was the work of Indians who are happy with their economic growth. Other countries read newspapers. They make calls. They get news.
And they will know that what lies beneath, is a work of destruction that was consequence to them not because people like me, people like the CEOs of companies in India wanted it that way.

Terrorism is already bring people together. Everybody is reading the same newspaper now, watching the same TV channel, grieving at the same news. Watchman and Business Official will walk hand-in-hand, out the doors of torture together. Everyone's suddenly the same. Everyone's the same in the eyes of fire.

We all wish that terrorists would try and achieve their objectives through firm and peaceful means, means that anyone would much prefer, including them. It'd work best for them, too, because their primary objective wouldn't be taking second place to the madness the create. They may walk around in their jeans and backpacks, without giving a damn about the world, but guess what? The world now doesn't give two hoots about them. Life always has its own way of throwing the boomerang right back at people.

I guess the only way we can fight this, is to fire up, with a determination to beat this in whatever small way we can. When an incident teaches children everywhere NOT to pick up a packet and return it to someone who dropped it, lest it might be a bomb, lets show them that alertness is good, but life doesn't always have to be like that. It is all we can do really, try to fight the fire with an extinguisher. There's not much point fighting fire with fire. Everyone burns.

And when terrorism strikes, when they light a match, there is a fire. A fire that burns many hearts, many lives, many dreams.
A fire that also displays light. A blazing, destructive light, but a light nonetheless. A light we can use, to find a path that's a parallel path to this madness.
Because Parallel lines never meet.

Sheer poetry

This is how much I like this poem- I'm posting about it on the eve of my exam!
Anyway, the Highwayman by Alfred Noyes is one of my all time favourite poems..we had it in school and something about it just took me, forever. And I have this sudden urge to spill, and you, you silly person..if you've never read this poem then be ashamed! And read on. If you have, tell me what your favourite part is and I will be pleased.

The Highwayman

By Alfred Noyes

Part One
                               I
The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight, over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding-
               Riding-riding-
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.

                               II
He'd a French cocked-hat on his forehead, a bunch of lace at his chin,
A coat of the claret velvet, and breeches of brown doe-skin;
They fitted with never a wrinkle: his boots were up to the thigh!
And he rode with a jewelled twinkle,
               His pistol butts a-twinkle,
His rapier hilt a-twinkle, under the jewelled sky.

                               III
Over the cobbles he clattered and clashed in the dark inn-yard,
And he tapped with his whip on the shutters, but all was locked and barred;
He whistled a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
               Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair.

                               IV
And dark in the old inn-yard a stable-wicket creaked
Where Tim the ostler listened; his face was white and peaked;
His eyes were hollows of madness, his hair like mouldy hay,
But he loved the landlord's daughter,
               The landlord's red-lipped daughter,
Dumb as a dog he listened, and he heard the robber say-

                               V
"One kiss, my bonny sweetheart, I'm after a prize to-night,
But I shall be back with the yellow gold before the morning light;
Yet, if they press me sharply, and harry me through the day,
Then look for me by moonlight,
               Watch for me by moonlight,
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way."

                               VI
He rose upright in the stirrups; he scarce could reach her hand,
But she loosened her hair i' the casement! His face burnt like a brand
As the black cascade of perfume came tumbling over his breast;
And he kissed its waves in the moonlight,
               (Oh, sweet black waves in the moonlight!)
Then he tugged at his rein in the moonlight, and galloped away to the West.

Part Two
                               I
He did not come in the dawning; he did not come at noon;
And out o' the tawny sunset, before the rise o' the moon,
When the road was a gipsy's ribbon, looping the purple moor,
A red-coat troop came marching-
               Marching-marching-
King George's men came marching, up to the old inn-door.

                               II
They said no word to the landlord, they drank his ale instead,
But they gagged his daughter and bound her to the foot of her narrow bed;
Two of them knelt at her casement, with muskets at their side!
There was death at every window;
               And hell at one dark window;
For Bess could see, through the casement, the road that he would ride.

                               III
They had tied her up to attention, with many a sniggering jest;
They bound a musket beside her, with the barrel beneath her breast!
"Now keep good watch!" and they kissed her.
               She heard the dead man say-
Look for me by moonlight;
               Watch for me by moonlight;
I'll come to thee by moonlight, though hell should bar the way!

                               IV
She twisted her hands behind her; but all the knots held good!
She writhed her hands till here fingers were wet with sweat or blood!
They stretched and strained in the darkness, and the hours crawled by like
years,
Till, now, on the stroke of midnight,
               Cold, on the stroke of midnight,
The tip of one finger touched it! The trigger at least was hers!

                               V
The tip of one finger touched it; she strove no more for the rest!
Up, she stood up to attention, with the barrel beneath her breast,
She would not risk their hearing; she would not strive again;
For the road lay bare in the moonlight;
               Blank and bare in the moonlight;
And the blood of her veins in the moonlight throbbed to her love's refrain.

                               VI
     Tlot-tlot; tlot-tlot! Had they heard it? The horse-hoofs
ringing clear;
Tlot-tlot, tlot-tlot, in the distance? Were they deaf that they did
not hear?
Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill,
The highwayman came riding,
               Riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming! She stood up strait and still!

                               VII
Tlot-tlot, in the frosty silence! Tlot-tlot, in the echoing night
!
Nearer he came and nearer! Her face was like a light!
Her eyes grew wide for a moment; she drew one last deep breath,
Then her finger moved in the moonlight,
               Her musket shattered the moonlight,
Shattered her breast in the moonlight and warned him-with her death.

                               VIII
He turned; he spurred to the West; he did not know who stood
Bowed, with her head o'er the musket, drenched with her own red blood!
Not till the dawn he heard it, his face grew grey to hear
How Bess, the landlord's daughter,
               The landlord's black-eyed daughter,
Had watched for her love in the moonlight, and died in the darkness there.

                               IX
Back, he spurred like a madman, shrieking a curse to the sky,
With the white road smoking behind him and his rapier brandished high!
Blood-red were his spurs i' the golden noon; wine-red was his velvet coat,
When they shot him down on the highway,
               Down like a dog on the highway,
And he lay in his blood on the highway, with a bunch of lace at his throat.

       *       *       *       *       *       *

                               X
And still of a winter's night, they say, when the wind is in the trees,
When the moon is a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
When the road is a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
A highwayman comes riding-
               Riding-riding-
A highwayman comes riding, up to the old inn-door.

                               XI
Over the cobbles he clatters and clangs in the dark inn-yard,
And he taps with his whip on the shutters, but all is locked and barred;
He whistles a tune to the window, and who should be waiting there
But the landlord's black-eyed daughter,
               Bess, the landlord's daughter,
Plaiting a dark red love-knot into her long black hair. 

Finger-rub

You were the only one who could ever get it right. Nobody ever knew, ever knew that my absolute favourite thing was to have you just take my fingers and lightly press them in yours. Sometimes I'd pretend to have written a long essay or exam, or typed out hundreds of lines of code. Just so you'd be willing to give me that finger rub.

And every night I'd call you to rescue me. From the darkness and the shadows that gleamed, dormant in my mind. You'd walk across fear of your own, to alleviate some of mine. I don't know anyone else who I'd call at 4 A.M, and know that they'd come even after staying up many nights with twelve submissions underway.
Others would tell me I'm seeing things. You'd hold me and tell me that they wouldn't hurt me.

The only real room-mate I've ever had. You're the only one I can count on for an honest opinion. I never knew it then, but when we lived together you understood my need for space and companionship better than anyone else ever will.
Its probably why you're the only person who's seen me change my clothes.

I never really understood you. I preferred to let you have your way, and I let you come to me. That's how it has always been, really...you coming to me. When you did come, I'd try to push you away.
But you still always came. I don't know how you know that if you'd stopped, a part of me would've died.

You're my best secret-keeper.
And I'm spending my entire life trying to be like you.

I can sit with you in complete silence for hours, and know that we're both comfortable. I don't ever have to say anything to you to make us work. We were born to be together, and yet we couldn't be more different.

When you're in pain, or sick, I know it sounds strange but..I actually feel lousy myself. It's like when the strong sunshine hides beneath gray clouds.

You're my wall. You're so normal, so simple, so unpretentious.
My rock.

No-one else will ever come close to you. Ever. You've taught me the meaning of unconditional love.

From drawing in my records to copying my notebooks to giving me the low-down on my friends.
From hiding my books to buying me chocolate fudge just because I finished a hard exam, to switching off the television because I'm supposed to have priorities.
From downloading every song I've ever wanted, to cooking for me. Even though I've never done these things for you.
From doing everything to calm me down when I hyperventilate
to secretly looking up to me

You saw through my lies.truly celebrated my victories.
truly suffered my defeats.

You're numero uno on my list of people.
And I treat you like you're last.

But we work, because we're silently in love. So much unsaid, that just typing this makes me choke up. We don't say we love each other. We don't have anniversaries, dates. We don't celebrate the day we met each other.

You've made me truly love you, without any frills. No awws and muahs, no "You're my favourite person".

You've seen all my dark.
And you love me anyway.

You understand the meanings of words I make up on the spot.

And when you sleep, I want to pounce on you and wake you up.
Just so you're in my life again.

My very own mailpaper

What does a good wannabe-journalist do? Report..very good! I do not (and SO wish I did) possess the ability to write stunning pieces that drip with intelligence, sharp observation and sarcasm, and make the wrong people (or right? err...) squirm in their seats and wish the earth would swallow them alive. Yes, some people know that the pen is a sword, and they've learnt how to use it well and truly. With panache.
So until I get there, I'm going to do the next best thing. That's right. Report.

I recently got this really nice e-mail, (courtesy whisky..happy time:) to you!) and I believe that even though I didn't write it, people should see it. It's downright simple and kind of fun. Really. And here's the best part- its true.

The Ant & the Grasshopper

The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer ,building its house and laying up supplies for the winter.

The Grasshopper thinks the Ant is a fool and laughs and dances and plays the summer away.

Come winter ,the Ant is warm and well fed. The Grasshopper has no food or shelter so he dies out in the cold.

presenting.....The Indian Version

The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer building its house and laying up supplies for the winter.


The Grasshopper thinks the Ant is a fool and laughs & dances & plays the summer away.

Come winter, the shivering Grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the Ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others are cold and starving.

NDTV, BBC, CNN show up to provide pictures of the shivering Grasshopper next to a video of the Ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food.

The World is stunned by the sharp contrast. How can this be that this poor Grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?

Arundhati Roy stages a demonstration in front of the Ant's house.
Medha Patkar goes on a fast along with other Grasshoppers demanding that Grasshoppers be relocated to warmer climates during winter.

Amnesty International and Koffi Annan criticize the Indian Government for not upholding the fundamental rights of the Grasshopper.
The Internet is flooded with online petitions seeking support to the Grasshopper (many promising Heaven and Everlasting Peace for prompt support as against the wrath of God for non-compliance) .

Opposition MPs stage a walkout. Left parties call for 'Bharat Bandh' in West Bengal and Kerala demanding a Judicial Enquiry.

CPM in Kerala immediately passes a law preventing Ants from working hard in the heat so as to bring about equality of poverty among Ants and Grasshoppers.

BJP wants Sonia Gandhi's apology.

Lalu Prasad allocates one free coach to Grasshoppers on all Indian Railway Trains, aptly named as the 'Grasshopper Rath '.

Finally, the Judicial Committee drafts the ' Prevention of Terrorism Against Grasshoppers Act' [POTAGA], with effect from the beginning of the winter.
Arjun Singh makes 'Special Reservation ' for Grasshoppers in Educational Institutions & in Government Services.

The Ant is fined for failing to comply with POTAGA and having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes,it's home is confiscated by the Government and handed over to the Grasshopper in a ceremony covered by NDTV.


Arundhati Roy calls it ' A Triumph of Justice'.

Lalu calls it 'Socialistic Justice '.

CPM calls it the ' Revolutionary Resurgence of the Downtrodden '

Koffi Annan invites the Grasshopper to address the UN General Assembly.
.
.
.
.
.
.

Many years later...

The Ant has since migrated to the US and set up a multi-billion dollar company in Silicon Valley ..

Hundreds of Grasshoppers still die of starvation despite reservation somewhere in India ...
And ss a result of losing a lot of hard working Ants and feeding the Grasshoppers, India is still a developing country!

Lollipops and disney movies are my favourite things

Darn. I just gave away practically EVERYTHING in the title itself. Anyway, I've never really been very good with titles. I just write (type, actually) and then whatever pops into my head becomes the title. Or there isn't any title at all.

Anyway, today is children's day, November 14th. I might be old enough to be considered as out-of-category here, but heck, happy children's day to all the child-like people out there! I'm aware that my posts of late are very melancholy-ish and not exactly exuding joy, but in this post, be aware that I'm trying. I'm trying very hard.

So, let the festivities (don't cough, already) begin!

I've decided to dedicate this post to Walt Disney, without whom my childhood would've taken some innately boring turns. I'd also like to thank a hundred authors and some more movie-makers and TV-show writers but hey..all that's another post!:)

Continuing with my list fetish, Disney movies, that I believe, warrant some serious consideration for children of all ages (God help you if you don't come under this category.)



'The three Caballeros, three gay caballeros, they say we are birds of a feaatherrrrrrr!' A caballero is a spanish gentleman. See, how you can have fun AND learn at the same time?!

Don't tell me that this sight doesn't bring even a little bit of FEAR to your brain.
Mind-blowing animation, this.

They're fast, they're furious, they're...not to be missed!

*speechless*



"Ducktales! Woohoo!"
They're cute, they're searching for treasure, and that alone was enough.

Now, if only everyone really learnt that lying is bad for you as well as this little guy did.

Doesn't this make you go awww?? No? What's wrong with you?
The jungle book. A collector's item.



The aristocats is a clever movie for absolutely ANY mood.
Many people haven't watched it, so if you haven't, make sure you're exempted from the loser brigade.

Everyone's favourite british nanny in Mary Poppins.
Super-cali-fragi-listic-expi-ali-docious, even though the sound of it is something quite atrocious If you say long enough you'll always sound precocious Super-cali-fragi-listic-expi-ali-docious!

music grade- A

Pocahontas. Woman of the world.
Much like women of today!

Sleeping beauty was adorable, but what I really liked were these three fairies.
Disney people are geniuses.

Alice in wonderland. The mad tea party.
Lewis Carroll interpreted in true Disney style.


Don't we all still want a genie?
I can show you the world...romantic melody learnt early!Hah! Wannabes.

The beauty and the beast is one of disney's finest. Easily. You cannot help but feel like a million bucks after watching this.

..it even inspired Vogue. See?




Only disney can make a movie about a mermaid, and make you seriously believe that they might exist (for a few years).

Another classic.



Voted as one of the biggest tear-jerkers of all time.
And bambi and thumper refined friendship.

'Bambi' is also a commonly used term, now. (if you watch TV)


Disney won An oscar and seven little oscars for this one.
Every single dwarf won hearts. This very scene, Cinderella and the glass slipper, is what inspired modern day flirting rituals, such as dropping a perfumed hanky, and the bend and snap!

Apparently, Disney started selling Wedding gowns that will fulfil your long-lived Disney-princess gown dreams. Here's the Cinderella wedding gown.
Talk about living your childhood dream!

The best was saved for last. This movie taught me everything.
The songs were absolutely mind-blowing, too.

All hail disney.
Because I haven't even touched the tip of the BEST ice-berg, ever.

eighth

'Twas not included in the seven deadly ones,
but she knew better. There were comparisons.
And they battered her up, they made her bitter
she fell prey to them, those foul sinners.
And she threw that remote, the only pointing knife
to those girls on television. It might as well had been
pointing straight at her, for that's all they'd seen.
pretty faces and straight legs, the only benchmark
that seemed to exist for the person who was stark
naked in persona, staring them in the face
with all her loveliness, fallen from grace.

they'd claimed to never have been exposed
to these sides of her. these people, inside.
but that was their fault, they don't let me be, she claimed.
with a barcode for everything, the speakers take blame.
she's smarter and taller and prettier and popular
and why you're not her
all it did, was bite her.

everything laden with guilt. from roasted almonds
and tv shows and poetry sheets and ice-cream cones
even sticks and stones didn't hurt her bones
this much. her vanity, with no space on the shelf
and worst of all, she losing herself.
midnight wandered in, a typist friend
both befriended, both at wits end

solace was talking, cool air listening
and the letters that were the only things
around her that weren't falling apart.
because she wasn't looking at what she'd got
she'd learnt to view only everything she was not.

escape forbidden, and tantrums made way
for less tiresome ways to crust-cover her day
parched glands, emotional hands
and the distant dream, of a fabulous
life, just like she'd seen
and pray
that it'd stay.

Smile, and the world smiles with you.
Cry, and someone might empathise on a Blog.

Know

I want you to tell me when you need me. So that I can be there for you. But you have to let me. Let me find you when you purposely got lost, call you when you'd rather not talk, buy you lunch when you'd rather not eat. You have to let me talk, after I listen. So that you know I haven't been breathing away in despair, knowing that a wall could do better. You have to truly tell me what scares you, what frightens you. So that I can attempt to chase those monsters away. You shouldn't care that I might do it with just a tissue. Sometimes tissues, if snapped really hard, can hurt like a whip.

You can't not thank me. But you have to thank me with your eyes, with your face, with your voice. Not with a message. Not with pretense. You can't assume that I will be there for you because you want me to. I will be there for you because I know I want to.

You have to unfold. Stories are like that, the unfold in pages and chapters and paragraphs and conversations. I have to be able to read you like a book. You can re-tell any para you want, read it differently, bring it to life differently. But you can't make me read you in a day. You've to give me time, so that I remember the book. Long, long after I've put it down.

You also have to be gripping. Gripping stories, are those you want to stay up and read forever. And yet, they unfold. So well, that you read, and read, satisfying a hunger you never even knew existed before. You have to create that hunger, and then satisfy it.

You have to lie. gracefully, and subtly, and yet so badly that I know you're lying and appreciate the fact that you're not afraid to tell me white lies just so my rose glasses seem rosier. But if I believe you well and truly, you have to know when to actually stop lying and tell me the truth. Not because i want you to. Because rosy isn't my favourite colour for too long.

You have to call me. Call me with a pressing, painful thing you just have to talk about, and yet ask me how I am. And talk about me, for as long as I like. Knowing fully that I will not do that to you, I will not let that happen for too long, even if you try.

You have to know when to back off. Back off when I feel like you won't understand, not when I need someone to sympathise. Understand when I need someone to help me draw up my back-up plans instead of telling me the main ones will go fine. And still, bug me and hound me and call me even though you know I'd rather you back off. Because you know that you actually backing off would be the last thing I need.

You have to read this and realise, that I'm not writing about you, and I'm not crazy, and I didn't mean to write this up and put this on the internet, but sometimes I like writing these sour cream things, and I did mean to write this and put this up, not so you can read it and think I'm writing about you, because I'm not.

But you should know that if you want this to be about you, it can.

Eef you come today...

Rajkumar is awesome. The silly, materialistic, childish me thought so only because him being kidnapped, poor guy, got us holidays for a VERY long time. But wait! Don't kill me just yet. As I grew older and maturity, good sense, and all that jazz prevailed, I started to come to terms with how amazing he really is. Only he can bring out the true convivial nature of a kannadiga, someone who truly means it when he says, 'banni, enjoy maadi.'
Only he can make an otherwise outrageous song, seem..well..outrageous.
But in a TOTALLY different way.

First I shall provide you with the lyrics:

Eef you come today it's too early
Eef you come tomarrow it's too late
Eef you come today it's too early.
Eef you come tomaarrow it's too late.
You pick the taaaaaaime
tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick tick daaaaaaahrling!

Eef you come today...

Paaa Paaa...

Did you say morning? no, no it's not good
Did you say evening ? no, no it's too bad
Did you say noon ? no, no it's not the time
Whaat did you say? whaat did you say ?nothing? oh it's all right
You pick the taaaaaime... tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick daaarrling!

Eef you come today...

Million times beating my heart
Million dreams haunt my heart
Million desires spring in my heart
Million memories squeeze my heart
You pick the taaaaaime tick tick tick tick tick tick a-tick tick tick tick tick tick

now, enjoy!!!

watch this HERE

TRUE brilliance, right? You just have to agree with me. That will make you smile on the worst, worst day.

Speaking of tick, tick, the minutes are ticking away to CAT, the monster of an exam, the ultimate CATastrophe coming up? And if you're the sort of person who enjoys countdowns and adrenaline pumping in, check out the CAT clicker on THIS site..

09 Days, 09 Hours, 39 Minutes, 06 Seconds.

as of now.

I know. Scary, huh? And instead of studying, look what I'm doing!
Sigh. Too late to be helping moi now.

So I shall get back to eef you come today..

Good night and good luck everyone!

Snap, Snap

Na na na nah (Snap, Snap)
Na na na nah (Snap, Snap)

Na na na nah, Na na na nah
Na na na nah (Snap, Snap)

They're creepy and they're kooky,
Mysterious and spooky,
They're all together ooky,
The Addams Family.

Their house is a museum.
When people come to see 'em
They really are a screa-um.
The Addams Family.

Neat

Sweet

Petite

So get a witch's shawl on.
A broomstick you can crawl on.
We're gonna pay a call on
The Addams Family.

hanna barbera = lifetime achivement.
thank you, adt.

Title for a post. Post for a title.

Dumb, very dumb, oh SO dumb title for this post. I know.

But my fingers are happy. Joyous. There's just this convivial relationship that my fingers and charlie share. (Psst...charlie's my laptop. I know. You were either somewhat excited or somewhat disappointed. If neither, you come in my favourite list for you have been reading!)

Diwali came and diwali went. And Well, its been quite a ridiculous week. For starters, I saw two movies, both thoroughly abominable, execrable, impertinent. (Ah, not-so-small words. NOTHING else makes you sound both unbearably intelligent and pompous at the same time. Have you ever realised how very smart people always use bigger words where simple ones will suffice? Its both a good thing and a bad thing. And yes, its also an amusing thing. They can say non-secular, but will they stop themselves from saying ecclesiastical? Noooooo.)

So..fashion. With all due respect, let me begin and end by saying that I may not be Madhur Bhandarkar, but I truly and honestly believe that I can make a better movie about the Indian fashion industry with priyanka chopra, even after never having set foot in it.

So..Roadside Romeo. Bad choice, disney. Bad, bad choice.
Romeo and Laila are JUST like my two friends who recently hooked up. Just like them. Its almost wonderfully scary.

I've tons of really good ideas for posts but none that can be executed given my present sleepy, droopy state. Life can be way too complex. Wow. Yuck, even. Bloom asked me, yesterday, "It isn't supposed to be this hard sometimes. Is it?"
These aphorisms, passed down from god-knows-where to us, making us believe that we deserve better. They've spoiled us, no? We all believe things shouldn't be this bad. I know I do. Are we narcissistic as a race or do we really deserve better? Do we deserve to go through mind-numbing hell just so we appreciate the good times? Rosh told me we do. But black and white prevails, and grey suddenly seeps in. And throw all this philosophy, X said, we do deserve better.
Ah. Different people, and different views during different conversations on the same things.
And I've confused you, I presume.

I'm in a weird mood, which is evident. I'm pretty sure I'll come up with a far better, less eclectic (ha!) post in a bit. For now, you'll have to bear with my idiosyncrasies.

lights


camera


action!

Genetic Cocktail

Why do some people have certain abilities? I'm not talking heroes type abilities here, just..the extra awesome things some people are born with. Some people call this being gifted. Some say a greater percentage of that person's brain (left or right) is being used, and better. Some say it has a lot to do with the person's environment and bringing up patterns.
Some call this luck. Some call it destiny.

I call it a genetic cocktail.

You know how some drinks are better than the others, some drinks are more well known, some drinks are liked instantly and some others call for an acquired taste? Some impress immediately. Some have more body. Some are just made of higher quality ingredients.
Different people prefer different drinks, yes. But some have a long-standing success rate at bars.

I believe that people are just like the drinks they like.

Some people are born with a sharp, well flavoured, well blessed genetic cocktail. Their genes quite literally, arrive and perform at command. These people are generally the exceptionally talented, exceptionally gifted, exceptionally successful ones. Their cocktail is good, and it only keeps getting better with work and practice.

Now..why does the bartender of life give the elixir type cocktail only to a select few? Worse..when he did dish these out, was I passed out or sleeping or already chugging away on a regular, boring old drink?

*Whining alert*

Don't say I didn't warn you.

I'm having a totally miserable time. I don't know how to get it out of my system and move on, so I figured atleast blogging about it would help marginally, if not more. I tried pretending it didn't exist, I tried distracting myself, but here's the thing, you can only distract yourself with something that's better. Not by something you're supposed to be doing. I've tried, believe me.

In essence, I've fully figured out that I've no life, I'm going to BOMB this disappoint everyone around me, but oh so much worse- myself. I'm going to finish my own perfectly capable self off with this exam, and I'm going to blow my self-confidence and self worth to smithereens. Okay, so all that doesn't hang on one exam, but I'm in a very dramatic frame of mind right now.

I'm looking for one teeny ray of sunshine, and My shades are so dark, blinded by darkness that I can't find one.

I so hope that this, too, will pass.

The moolah is cool-ah!

Put yourself in..well, your shoes. What matters most to you? Typical (and over-done, it seems) answers would be family, friends, your better (or not!) half, your reputation, peace with yourself, success, your happiness. Right. Right?
Or did money come first in that list?

I'll be honest and say that money is very, very important. Very. I cannot stress this enough. I know this truly, truly well, and all the more because I live in a country where poverty is commonplace- you only need to step out of your house to see people writhing their lives away in it. Money is crucial for the betterment of an existence. Money is necessary for survival. Money is the first thing anyone in their right minds would associate with a better quality of life.

But the mastercard AD certainly got one thing very, very right..There are some things money can't buy. Atleast, I certainly think so.
Money can buy you a degree in India- but it cannot buy you an education. Money can buy you medical insurance, but mental peace is still far, far away. It can buy your friends a round of drinks at the bar, but it can't get you their loyalty and trust. It can make you look snazzy, scorching hot, but it can't buy you love (famous, oh-too-famous words.) It can buy your dad a new car, but it can't make him love you more.
It can buy you a big house, but It can't fill people who genuinely give a a tiny hoot about you, in it.

But the people who come on the precariously indifferent "Moment of truth" don't seem to think any of these things. The show should probably be called Sex, lies and Lie-detector. Episode after episode, on how the world, and more obviously, America just can't seem to keep their knockers on, let go of their past, or tell their spouses things they should be telling them in the privacy of their bedroom. I'll admit, I was interested as much as the next person in the first three episodes. It was fun when people admitted that they stuff up their underwear to loom better endowed. But eventually I got as incredulous as the critics. Really...how many times have we seen the "Have you ever cheated on so-and-so" question? The point they're trying to make is-

a) B***s to the spouse you've already cheated on anyway, time to make some quick bucks!

b) Forget about your family sobbing over there, hey now you can afford a platinum-encrusted facial! How about that?!

c) Join the Brigade. Let's face it, the only way to earn your fifteen minutes of fame without going partying without underwear, is to spill all your big fat dirty family secrets on not just national, but worldwide television.

d) Nearly EVERYONE in America loves their spouses and yet believe they really shouldn't be with them at all. Such love. (Were you hoping for public support during your public break-up, clam-heads?!)

I get that people have had hard, trying lives..but if so, keep it to yourself! The almost sadistic angle of the show even has people booing loudly when people back out of the show, lest they're forced to reveal what condom flavour they used when they cheated on their spouse or worse, if it was used already or stolen from your boss's drawer. If you're cringing, know that all this is a distinctive possibility in anyone's head, anyone who has watched that show.

What's downright hilarious is how the host seems way more concerned about the future lives of the unfortunate contestants than the contestants themselves. The host's got a crinkly, worried look on his face when he clearly states that the questions are very personal and he himself is wondering if So-and-so is actually going to go through this. When a stranger who's the host of a show that is trying to promote itself is asking you and your family if you really need the money that much, you know you're asking for trouble.

But people don't seem to care. People think the moolah is definitely cooler. Their families and friends are all battered and bruised, most of the damage is seemingly permanent at the very least, and I know I wouldn't want to be on this show or have ANYONE I know and love on this show. Some things are meant to be said in confidence. Some things are meant to be classified, even for the commons. Some things, are definitely better when swallowed deep within the hallows of your mind, because they are not really that important. For instance, your struggling best friend musician needn't know that you actually think he isn't going to make it. He needs to believe you think he can. That belief itself will see him through, perhaps. How will a messed up friendship, belief gone to the dogs, and an utter stomping of self-respect help?

Entertainment is one thing, and the tragic, trashy, chronicles of the sex-starved and dying to be famous gets old. It really really does. I'm going to keep my friends and family, keep secrets, fight my battles in private...and most importantly..I'm going to watch Saturday Night Live or Hell's Kitchen instead.

The question

To be or not to be, THAT is the question. Man, Shakespeare was smart. This, I realised only today, in fuzzy logic class, when santa put up a slide with the quote. Santa's what we call my fuzzy logic professor- he's all rolly polly and jolly. He even holds up his belly sometimes and laughs...you can almost hear a “ho ho ho” echo at the back of your head. He's also pretty smart and the one of the nicest teachers we have- he even gives us a MUCH needed coffee break. THAT, my dah-lings, is truly exceptional in my department.

That quote sums up almost ever droplet of being in our lives, in my opinion. It applies to everyone, everywhere, in every facet of life. To be in the gym right now, or not to be. To be an engineer or not to be. To be studying for that exam, or not to be. To be a virgin, or not to be. To be a loyal friend, or not to be. To be honest, or not to be.

To like that hot neighbour, or not to.

It's really that simple.

Except it is..well, not really all that straight up. There are books with a list of things that determine “Are you ready to give it up for your boyfriend yet, or not?” Man, even a list of a million things can't determine the feelings springing up in your brain, and even those can't determine adequately what you should be doing (for those who are on that path). Nothing can determine if you're destined to do that MBA, or if you're going to lose weight. Science can take you through to anywhere with reason, but it can't help the trainwrecks and the detours that happen along the way. And these, are words of wisdom that come after a delightful evening of heritage wine. (I love using these very british words...delightful, divine, yadda yadda yadda)

Which brings me to the delightful evening. BBQ and heritage wine. (Which sounds strangely healthy, yes? I certainly thought so.) It was MUCH needed by the almost bedraggled moi.

I also tried a hot dog for the first time in my life today (Don't gasp, you...I'm vegetarian by choice and birth) and it was quite yum yum in my tum tum! The mustard especially.

I love mustard on anything.

Anyway, it was very relaxed and nice. My heart, lungs, eyes, heck, even my toes are very happy after a nice time...I can almost hear them go (Finally, WOMAN, you took us out and showed us what the world looks like. Finally. Hallelujah! Hallelujah!)

And, and, list time!! Here we go..things I've loved and still loving and even RE-loving (there isn't such a word, right..okay..falling in love with ALL over again):

1. Grey's anatomy. There is going to be a whole post on this, with my every opinion on this, just as soon as a get to the third season. Stay tuned! Right now I'm way too addictedto this show to even type it out. And I don't wanna go to rehab, I say, No, NO No!!

2. Jeff Buckley.

   A genius, and you should SO fall asleep listening to hallelujah and any song from Grace. Your breathing pattern with stabilise, which basically means you'll sleep like a very peaceful, happy log person.

3. Jolly jellies.

   Call 'em jujips or jolly jems or jelly jems or whatever, these sugar coated sinful jelly things are just the right thing for your bellies. (Oh my god, I sound like a walking talking AD jingle.) And have many packets of them. The sugar high is an experience NOT to be missed:)

4. Pink.

   I re-discovered my fuchsia earrings. Mood uplifters, really.

5. Sleeping

   I've clocked in a ridiculous number of hours per day so now I do ONLY these things in a day:

   -Attend college

   -Sleep

   -Study

   -Sleep

   -Groom myself

   -Eat

   -Sleep

   -Watch grey's anatomy

   -Study

   -Sleep

   -Study

   -Sleep

   -Sleep

   (In no particular order, of course)

Now I must get back to doing one of those things. Remember, there's nothing that a lindt thin can't help cure, and the song “Affirmation” by savage garden makes sense even after YEARS.

Ta!

The pursuit of happyness

La la la la laaaaa! I am BACK! And surprise, surprise, I am actually in a happy state of mind. Certain parts of my brain have ceased to protest, and they're just sitting back, enjoying this change of pace. Almost like someone gave them a beer and went- "Yo, just sit back and get breezy".
And my, they did obey.

I haven't blogged in a while, partially because charlie (my laptop) totally bailed on me, what with him refusing to access the internet. Okay, okay, so part of it was my sheer stupidity and inability to help fix the poor dude. But hey, he could've co-operated a bit more.
Another, more overwhelming reason was that the past few weeks have neither been happy, nor eventful. I was bogged down by the monster internals, bugged with other issues, worried by the lack of "fun" in my life, and especially brought down by nothing to look forward to. Not that there aren't opportunities..but for a while I've been forced to turn down even trips to a swanky estate in chickmaglur and a nice trip to shivasamudram..and trust me, I don't fancy saying no, ever. It's all.bad timing.

So I didn't want to type out some lamenting, blah post (oh wait..does this seem like one? Hang on, it gets sunny, I promise) and I wanted to doodle when some happy state of mind found me. I guess I have to give a lot of credit to adt and ayt, because today they met me and I had a great time. We were supposed to watch mamma mia (hey I actually like abba..."My, my, how can I resist you?") but we didn't get tickets. I could just picture the big guy up there smiling and going.."There..I ruined the only good thing you have all week!"

But things turned around! We went to FP, and got ourselves all silly on a salt rimmed orangey thingy (I LOVE salt rims and tend to be very partial to the citrus group) and something called "Death wish". Funny, all it did was knock some life into me, sorta.

And then we just sat at kalmane coffee, just sat and smiled and laughed and talk and man, I have changed! My stupid, depressy withdrawn self of a few months didn't really break, but there is a hole in that egg shell. I really did have a great time. It felt so good to be out, I'm still happy and sorta jumpy. I dearly hope this is the beginning of a road to NO RETURN to the old, happy, absolutely cheerful, did-i-mention-happy me.

And tomorrow I will be going for em's book launch! I'm almost tripping with excitement. Any book-theatre-movie-music type thing really gets me going. Indian writers are definitely my cup of decadent darjeeling chai. And women writers, especially. Ever read a book called 'girl, alone?'. You so should.
I think 'You are here' will be just as good:)

And while I continue on the pursuit of happyness, its sure as hell nice to know I've made some serious progress in one evening. Its even nicer to know I had adt and ayt to take me there.
Hah, watch out folks..in no time I shall be cackling, and I mean REALLY cackling again.
Maybe it'll even turn into a guffaw...

Broadway Burgundy Frost

Sounds nice, eh? If you haven't guessed already, its the name of a rather ridiculous looking Dark Pink Nail polish shade I have. Or found, rather.
I must say it looks very..Broadway-esque (I have no idea how to explain that) and I was quite enamoured with the shine. Now, I'm not very girly (meaning I call totes bags, I don't really keep up with the latest trends and I don't own much makeup) but suddenly, I wanted to wear Dark pink nail-paint and see how my day went.


What I didn't realise till late evening, was that the colour looked postitively hideous on my skin tone.
Sigh. I guess mom will have to wear it (She's got prettier feet than I have.Mine are much to my sorrow, capable of being categorized as ugly.)
But like R said, I should be glad I have feet..

The lack of time in my life is driving me crazy. Really, I so wish I'd the time to groom myself like those other girls who have time for a different hair-style everyday of the week (seriously, we're talking permed one day, braids one day, straight the next..do you know how much EFFORT that would take? Not to mention how many hours! ). What I do is, I inspect my hair when I wake up. If its too oily or greasy looking, I wash it. If I don't blow dry it, I fall sick (it's true..the horror sinusitis imposes on people is only too annoying). So I quickly dry it, that's it. On really bad hair days I settle for a hair-band or maybe clips. If its really bad, I tie it. That's it. Minimal. I wish I even had time to go shopping for hair accessories.

Also, skinny jeans are on their way out! I, for one am happy. Did people take SO long to realise that it doesn't suit every body type? Hah! I could've told every fashionista that on day ONE.
(then again, India is a whole season behind the world when it comes to fashion trends so god only knows how long we'll take to wind out of this skinny-s**t)
The new trend is the supposed "Boyfriend jeans", really really baggy jeans. I'm happy. They're also supposedly called these because they look like something you've fished out of your boyfriend's closet.
Now why couldn't you call them something else? Count on those people to give you a complex no matter what. First they use the word 'skinny' and then 'boyfriend'. Its like normal-bodied, single people don't have the right to wear jeans anymore. Hmmph.



It sure would've been cool to live in the seventies:)

Bitchslap!

Hell, yeah. Now THAT's what I'd really like to do to someone this week. Nah, don't get all excited, just that things are really getting on my nerves. I am so madly swamped with things I'm supposed to do, and I'm missing the things I want to do.
Worst of all..I've forgotten how to do the things I used to like doing.
Wow. I just re-read that, and It's mildly confusing!

Yesterday was the barbeque at beeris'. Now, I'm vegetarian, which means I don't really get a lot to gobble on, but the concept of barbeques is AWESOME. Fire, the smell of grilled anything wafting around me, darkness, around, content faces (and stomachs). The entire idea is just so appealing, all the more since I'm bored to death of parties. I just can't take another typical, usual party. (Slow down- I'm not a party animal, but I do require life to be a lot more interesting than the same darn thing every single time.)
A BBQ is like an informal, fun party. And I missed it! Sob!
Me-is-not-thrilled at all.

Today, I finally took indira (my car) for a drive. She's fantastic, really. Okay, I like naming things around me- charlie's my laptop, etc. Usually its all named after very good looking men, but Indira was the only exception. She's a blushing red i10. I kid you not, that's the actual colour on the brochure.
Sunday's an amazing day to drive, really...the traffic is all sleeping at home( or at BBqs, who knows) and the roads are nice and easy. I skipped a signal, irritated someone when I was reversing ( I saw him hit his forehead) and almost collided with someone on two occasions. So not good for my ego.

There's no time for anything! I wish I'd 24 hours per evening! Really..when you're a girl and you're actually scheduling waxing into your calendar and realise there's not much time to even do that...you know there's trouble brewing. I'd kill for a pedicure, too..but heck..where's the time? Now I know what all those twenty-somethings used to talk about.

Are you wondering why I'm still blogging? I swear, this is the only thing that keeps me sane. Now that I'm trying to stay away from chocolate, TV, and boys, I do still need to write, don't I?

There's no time to exercise either.
I feel fat. It doesn't help that the mirror affirms my feelings. I have almost an entire section in my cupboard that can only be categorised as "Clothes for when I lose weight". I just can't bring myself to let those clothes go.

And cat is nothing short of a catastrophe. Really. It helps that college is full of women teachers who have tremendous egos wrapped around them, along with their sarees. I've always preferred Male teachers, for only one reason- they don't care about your private life. They teach and leave.
My teachers, on the other hand...make life HELL.

And I want to watch mamma mia! Meryl Streep is one of my eternal favourites. I loved her nonchalant bossy nature in the devil wears prada. She's getting even better with time, in my opinion.
That movie had some seriously hot clothes. This green over-coat and this white one with a grey beret...to DIE for. Really. (It helps that Anne Hathaway can totally carry off these things)

Sigh.
I want a fun life back!!

Springs in steps

I love dancing.

No, no..don't get me wrong. I'm not very good at it. But put on some music and I like to move it move it..do you like to move it move it? I've probably performed (like on stage with what I'd call a decent-sized audience) a few times, say around three or four. I recently did A dance for my building (A medley. How cool am I??!!) and after that there was this lull. So on fri when Sutta said something about a dance, first I worried about how this would ruin my so-called-CAT-attempt even further, but then I decided to go for it. I don't really regret it, since It's really a great stress buster. We're doing a medley (again!:)) of 'pappu can't dance saala' which has come out looking quite funky in my opinion and 'bachna ae haseeno' which we all haven't yet choreographed, but the song is so upbeat that we all dance when it starts!

It should be fun, really. I think stage fright shall kick in but this has been a good team building (you know, decision making and the like) and creative experience.
Amateur dancers doing their own medley. *Grin*. Awesome.

Also this whole wall street fiasco is really very interesting! I'm reading every article on it that I can get my paws on. I love it and so wish I could understand exactly how economics works..Now I know more than ever that I'm so made for a non-engineering degree!

Today in class, me sutta and ms muddu had this entire conversation on India, terrorism, religion battles, Corruption, Politics, the world and it was really very lovely..I for one was so wonderfully happy. Did I mention I LOVE intelligent conversation? I want more of that!

Also I have started reading The Economist which I think anyone vaguely interested in the world (Hah!) should read. it really is a stunning piece of information..all wrapped up in that incredibly deceitful exterior. It looks thin, but it is most definitely not.

I also saw the last lear, and Verdict- Overrated. AB's acting is really quite commendable though, really worth a shot..give it a go with a DVD and hopefully surround sound and appropriate lighting..that should do. He is good! Many performances were quite good, in fact..except Preity (who looks and talks the same in every movie.) It would've made a really good play. I'm starting to think AB would've been amazing at theatre.

Oh oh and I can't wait to watch mamma mia! Anyone seen it? I positively love ABBA, simply because when I was little, my parents listened to it a lot so I sorta grew up with it and sang it and it means a fair bit to me.

mamma mia
here I go again
my, my, how can I resist you?
mamma mia
does it show again
my, my, just how much I've missed you

Ah.

Joy.

Also, I didn't expect this, But I LOVE death magnetic. The Cd cover is nice, the album is nice, and I absolutely love 'suicide and redemption'. Finally, they brought out a track and spared me the lyrics.
I hated St. Anger, but this album's nice. Sort of like the Black Album.
I love neutral milk hotel too, of late:)

Now, why can't CAT go well too? There will be only springs in my steps then.

Also tomorrow I shall be catching a play..'death' by woody allen.
I love plays. I love them, I love watching them, writing them, anything to do with them.
Watching them.

That joy will keep me going for a whole week. Can hardly wait.

Liar, Liar

They're everywhere.

If you haven't spotted them yet, you're either one of them (which I realised only too late, that there's a very high probability of almost everyone being one of them) or you're still blissfully unaware, like I used to be. But facts are facts- people outrageously lie about their lives, especially academically, in India, and that is a huge contribution to what makes our education system so unfulfilled. Really, I think that is one of the primary reasons my education has really strayed far away from the wholesome path.
everywhere.
Honestly, there are three things that make for a great education in a great university...
1) Great students (and this is Numero Uno)
2) Great opportunity
3) Great faculty.

However, great faculty play a primary role in bringing out great students, so it gets sort of confusing as to where faculty really come in. Be assured that they are really important though.

However, Indian Kids seem to have got it all wrong. Sometimes you can't blame them- there's intense competition for very few seats in virtually any course that you wish to take- heck, its easier doing an undergraduate degree in Harvard than getting into IIT, and I've heard enough and more people tell me that it is easier to get into Wharton or Harvard (if you're blessed with work experience) than IIM. And going by the way CAT is, I can certainly see why.

But there's a vast difference between Indian students and lets say, American, or British (or any student community worldwide, for that matter.) The difference is this- Indian students just don't know or rather, don't want to adopt a win-win strategy. They work on "Every man for himself". Actually I'd prefer to call it "Every liar for himself."

So instead of forming proactive study groups (which is, by the way one of the top five things students do when they join college), Indian students wade through waters on their own, and they much prefer lying to their batchmates. What that is going to accomplish, I really have no idea and I probably never will. I mean, sure..we're all competing with each other but let's face it..since we never help each other, we never really learn. Ever. This is like doing a degree through correspondence. What's the point of going to an environment that's so close minded..academically, you only gain large lumps of disconnected, disfigured, mugged up pot-pourri.

That sort of explains why even after three whole years of doing a degree, many people don't know as much as they should.

There are people who help, learn, work together. There really are. But this constitutes a miniature section of the madding crowd. The rest would rather lie. If you ask me, its ridiculous. Why play down the work you do? That makes you sound like a fool who doesn't deserve what he's got. It only takes credit away from you. Worse, it makes you look like you're a cheat.

If I can pull together a couple of hours of serious work, I'm usually so happy about it that I go screaming it out from the rooftops. I don't want to hide behind some door and slog it out quiet and alone, and be treated with surprise when I accomplish something. I know I don't want people to say.."Oh, when was she even working for this? I didn't know she was that smart." I know I don't want people to say.."Oh she's a liar..she says she's out shopping but she's actually being two faced and studying."

People don't want to admit they work because it makes them look nerdy. It makes them look focussed, smart, boring.
I hope people are smart enough to realise how stupid the previous sentence was. Trust me on this, smart is all you've got working in life for you. Stupid people are even worse than smart ones. Studies have shown that Most people would rather date someone smart who's headed somewhere in life, and shows it, than someone who's a fool who discounts the worth of a good steady head.
Don't ever be incapable of intelligent conversation, really.

What I don't get is how People actually are out all the time, like they claim to be, sleeping, chilling, yadda yadda yadda and they still do better than the ones who worked and said they did. Does that mean they actually worked without telling anyone (How stupid) or their brains are genuinely better equipped (How unfair). Either way, its weird. I'm really sick of people lying all the time. "No, I don't know how to do that, really" and ta-da! They actually do, and it shows.
I swear, if I know how to do something I'll gladly teach someone before a test, just so I can prove how oh-so-smart I really am.

Anyway, everyone wants a good success story, folks. If you're ever successful, its nice for you to be able to tell people what you did to get there instead of "I did nothing really". Its not being modest, It's being stupid. People can look through you now. I know I can.

For those of you who've been honest, and helpful to your peers, I hope you continue making the education scene here a better place to be in. For those of you who don't...You know when you lie. You think being selfish and self-obsessed is the way to go.
That way won't stretch out very far.
I sure hope it doesn't anyway. Be assured that you don't have any positive chi on your side, anyway.

This was not written because of any particular instance. But do an engineering degree here and you'll know what I'm talking about.

Blammy

Step one- I'm going to get personal. Something I normally don't do on my blog. Most of my writing falls under the inspired by other people and people they know and also what I read category.
Whew! That's a long category.

But anyway, I am called Blammy sometimes in college. Actually, I'm called rammy (which is my screename..FYI) and Dee at one point thought it'd be funny to start calling me blammy and he said the name sort of sounded "fat". My theory regarding this is that blammy sounds like a portmanteau word..you know, Blob Rammy. Ridiculous, but that's how it ever made sense in my head. Of course, I never really told anyone about this particular reasoning but hey..if people are reading my Blog, this is going to get a few laughs (or atleast a knowing smiling sort of look) for sure. Anyway..funnily enough..I loved the name Blammy the very first time I heard it. (What I wish I could change, was the implication! Haha.)

So, the truth is..I'm not really very large or Obese or anything (I'd sure as hell like to think that) and I'm not thin either. I'm what I'd call "Pleasantly Plump" when I'm in a good mood, "Fat as hell" when I'm in a crummy mood, "chubby" when I'm trying to come to terms with myself and "Getting fatter by the minute" when Life gets agonizing and terrifying. Either way, I'm not very nice, (emotionally, regarding body issues) to myself.
And wow, I've just written this on the internet.
(Gag moi.)

So yeah, externally I go all "Huh!? Did you just call me fat?!!", while internally, I usually partially agree..in my friends' circle, I'm pretty much the plump girl. But you should see the guilt-laden, confused look on someone's face when they call you fat without expecting you to take offence and yet, you do..it gets them every time and I love it. (They try and cover it up with an attempt to make any joke sound like a generic statement.Bah!)

However, I do not think I am really fat. See, the real villain of this story is my height. I happen to be of average Indian height. So i just end up looking healthier than I'd like to. See? If only I could knock off a couple, I'd look a lot more in proportion and I'd be happier and my life would turn around and (you get my drift..blah blah blah)

Anyway, So..I'm Blammy. It doesn't help that most of my friends are blissfully in shape. They either have a blessed metabolism, amazing genes, or a willpower that a blasted earthquake wouldn't shatter (they work out really regularly). But really, most of them are quite..yummy lookin'! Ah, the peril such things bring to Blammy. Really. You have no idea. See, I'm cursed with a mad love for food, and an even greater love for sleep.
Both these things ruin weight loss like nothing else.
You betcha!

Anyway, So I found a few Blogs which are GREAT for reading about weight loss (I can't really Blog about being Blammy anymore..so these people will take over.) The links I'm about to post are pretty fantastic, either being very detailed, motivating, really helpful or just plain amazing. For anyone with weight issues..if for nothing else, read them to know that you aren't alone.
You aren't alone at all.

I'm too lazy to convert into links so I'm taking the liberty of posting URL's straight (for the tech-challenged this means just copy-paste this link on your browser)

http://www.escapefromobesity.blogspot.com/

http://dietcokeandzingers.blogspot.com/

http://maintainingahealthylifestyle.blogspot.com/

http://alwaysthebiggirl.blogspot.com/

http://justoofat.wordpress.com/

Each of these Blogs have links to further Blogs on being healthy and weight-watching and yadda yadda yadda so dig in! To the information, I mean.
Yikes!

Though I must add, being Blammy in no way is a drastic problem in my life. For those people who claim you can't be fat and happy, well..you're right.
You can't be fat and happy. Amen to that.
But you can definitely be fat and loved.
Trust me on this one. I've never been denied of opportunity, friendship, love, or trust because of body issues. Really. I've seen a wrote of people write about how the only way to get friends or have people like you is by being thin. In my experience..that is a load of self-pitying rubbish...It is all in your head. Life is meant to be lived, and lived well.

And regardless of how you look, you should be living just the way you want to.

Cheers,
Blammy

P.S- Blammy really likes purple.