I've never been any good at saying goodbye. I've never been any good at most things, but most things I can get right, at some point in time. But somehow I can't say goodbye. I can almost feel the break, but uttering the words makes it permanent na. So it makes it unbearable. I like to think I can be there for whoever for the rest of my life, I suppose.

I just said goodbye. I almost did it gracefully. I thanked you too na? We've had our differences, but you taught me so much. You helped me be me, like so many else, all of whom I left. See, more than anything else, I don't want you to be the one to leave. So I'll leave.

And I'm leaving so much love behind. I know I won't get it anywhere else. I know the next time I'm trying to say goodbye, I won't feel lost like I did today, I won't cry like I did today, and no one will hold me, run their fingers through my hair and reassure me saying, you'll be back na? you're coming back naa? like you did today.

What to do, I'm a bit of a sap. I'm not that good at these things. I can't be a permanence. For anyone.

It's my fault, and I know that it's because of me that I don't have anyone who I can tell how frozen I feel right now, and how much fear there is and how I want to run back to the familiar. There isn't really anyone who I can tell how excited I am to. And for the first time ever I want someone to listen. For the first time ever I want to just sit and talk about me. Put me first. And be understood rather than be called mad, or insane in a good or a bad way.

But there's no one. So it's okay I guess. Yea, it's okay.


Currently listening to Khoon Chala from Rang de Basanti. Wondering when in the movie do they play this. Can someone tell me?

I just saw Rang De Basanti. And while the movie is gimmicky (slightly) yet fabulous and all that, I have to declare I'm in LOVE. I'm most euphorically, in crazy, nutty, giggly LOVE. With Kunal Kapoor. I know half the world is, and I know it's hardly news that I am too. D/d, you may stop sniggering now, I know you are too. Everyone but Emmy is, but that's okay 'cos then I'll like Emmy more. giggle.

Okay, so I've met the guy (he's not the kind you forget, even when you've met him at a time when he hasn't even thought of Meenaxi) at Prithvi, when he was working with Naseer's production of The Prophet. And he's lovely. (Oh gawd I hope he never reads this, I'll die because a. it wasn't memorable from a non-infatuated point of view, and b. it's never cool to be caught gushing over anyone or anything.) Anyways because I'm currently in love with him (come on, the nice part is that he's straight, so it proves I can fall for straight men and that beats day dreaming about gay men) I shall post a picture of him - no I don't have any mmmmmmnice ones, I'm just taking off from a google search somewhere...

Now tell me he isn't lovelie. I might just have to poison your coffee if you do...

Too Much of Nothing

I'm so bored.

I'm so nervous.

I'm so in two minds.

I'm so detatched.

I'm so wanting to stick with something, someone.

I'm so in love.

I'm so over love.

I'm so irked.

I'm so floating.

I'm so lost.

I'm so excited.

I'm so hoping for another pair of shoes.

Ah, now that the other post is done, and I can be okay with all the wonderful snippets of information coming at me through various sources of information-distribution (I refuse to term them as news, seeing as how i cannot bring myself to consider viveIk and floozy's break-up fundamentally mind-boggling news - I mean, come on, guys, you're not getting her. girlies, if you like him, love him, are infatuated with him, you have ISSUES. in capitals.), I shall comment on republic day. Which, despite how pompous the statement sounds, is merely an anthology of random musings related to this day.

For the last few days, I've been wondering how there is hardly any hoo-ha about 26th of January this year. I understand that it's not exactly Independence day, but surely it deserves some merit? So how come no one has made any mind boggling statement questioning the authority of the opposition to build new roads, to dig up old ones, to tax more, to pay less, to be born a citizen of some other country, yadda yadda yadda... I mean where are the sons of the soil when ya need 'em???

I also have been wondering why my school (the one I stopped attending nearly 6 years ago to pursue (snigger) "higher education") does not have a music system that works. Me being part of a poor little theatre company, I can understand the inability to buy a nice new music system due to lack of funds, but considering the fees my esteemed alma mater charges, I doubt that is the case. I can also understand, being as I am careless and sometimes uncaring about the cleanliness of my surroundings that there may be dust, there may be lots of dust in the music systems. But surely abovementioned alma mater being a healthy and clean environ for ickle spoilt brats, that shouldn't be a problem either... But then again, as I have said a million times over, what do I know?

I also thought of buying some paper flags for the house, but unthought that thought right quickly, considering I still have leftover flags from Independence Day.

The most amusing thing about these uber-patriotic days in this city is the fact that everything being sold at signals, street corners, etc has some orange, white, green and blue in it. It has been a custom, since as long as I remember, to buy paper flags on little wooden sticks from street kids selling them at the signals. But here's to innovation and progress. There are little unbrellas, there are little woolen unbrellas with tassels, there are little gas balloons, there are little immobile flags, there are plastic flags, and all of them orange, white, green and blue. My favourite still remained, for the longest time, paper flags. It still is my most favourite thing. But come on, scrunchies!!! How can you not like little patriotic scrunchies? And gas balloons, so pretty tied to your window, so everyone can see how patriotic and giving you are?

However, of all the thing, the cake-taker is this:

But to know of this, there is some background required. A plastic flag is a flag made in approximately the same ratio as the Indian flag (ratio of height to width is 2:3, for those who had no clue), is made of some thin plastic, and is stuck on a straw. Not straw as in bale of straw, but straw as in sip-out-of-it straw. This year's innovation: Green straws. Green? Scratch that. This year is all about pink, Kunnu, you are so wrong, pink is in, and so claims my little plastic flag, kitschy as can be, standing there, tempting you all the while it flutters innocently. I mean seriously, if you think that fuschia pink and orang go well together, you'd be right most of the time. Except this time.

One of my dear friends, in a serious attempt to talk about his sexuality, said this could mean that the country is finally acknowledging its homosexual content. Indeed. Or it could mean that this country is soon to be weeded out of the fashion world.

Well, whicheve, whateve, Happy Republic Day, Jai Hind. *salutes smartly and stalks off, heels clicking*

(oh, and before anyone starts ranting about how I'm not patriotic to be writing this, go fuck yourself)

Aaj ki tazaa khabrein

Well well well

A call centre girl got robbed,
An alcoholic wanted to sell his son,
11 year old Shivani is a published author,
and Viveik is trying to face life with a smile.

It's just another wonderful morning for Mid-day I suppose...

UnderWater

Wow, I'm holding my breath, for something I want to shout and scream about, but I will do that, I suppose, only when I hear from who I have to hear from, and then I probably will stand on the rooftop and scream. I've been playing at cool and calm, and all that jazz, so I'm going to try it out for another few days. And then, I swear, I will go to my roof, and scream. And Kunal, you had better be in hearing distance, because I have something kick-ass to tell you.

Other than that, if I do hear what I have to hear, it is my solemn promise to take the person responsible for my actions (no, said person does not read this, but stil...) out for lunch, shopping, whatever.

Want to say "whew", but can't. Still holdin my breath, remember?

Aw.

On Saturday, I gave up the company of drunk 18-22 year olds in favour of some lovely 20 something ladies. It was indeed, much fun. In fact, I decided I love being entertained.

Attendance was as follows:

Maharani and Her Hubbie – they’re so cute, they’re the bestest unmarried married couple I’ve known. They love each other to bitsies. Aw. Oh, and I decided I adore Maharani.

Guppie-let – who stayed mostly mum through the evening, until her phone rang. I didn’t know a phone call about home loans could lead to the heavy lidded, tousled hair look. But then again, I can’t claim to know everything now, can I?

Appy – we all know her as Aparna. Sometimes they call her my other half, but I beg to differ. She is, unfortunately, female. And while I wouldn’t mind females (once in a while, we all can get tired of stooping so low as doing men), Appy is so not my type. In fact, K (not the K who comments all the time) and I decided that she mustn’t be anyone’s type. Except maybe K’s. But since K doesn’t do girlies, poooor Appie. Got slightly sloshed she did. I spilled some wine on the floor, but she spilled all her beer and all her food. Over herself. Such is the pity.

CT – Aw. He’s in love. Aw. He’s in an LDR and managed to stay true for a whole week now. Aw. He gets calls and Aw. He gets to make out on calls. While we must give him an award for his persistently unadultrous behaviour (snigger), I must mention this little snippet of conversation.

CT: You know, he called me today.

BGFS: Aw.

CT: No, he called me today! I mean he cals me everyday, but he also called me today. And I missed his call twice because you know I was talking on the other phone about work, I really hate work. But he called me again, and I did speak to him, and he was up awake till late with his cousin and they were just talking, and then when he called and I answered, he let me speak to his cousin, I spoke to his cousin…

BGFS: * zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz *

Oh, and I meant her, not him. Hee hee.

And last, but not the least, we must acknowledge our host for the evening, the diva herself (though I do believe that Maharani is a bigger one, but we’ll let that slide), K. Again, not that K who blogs as K, but another K. Who might or might not blog but I will let her identity remain secret.

K has a penchant for itty bitty denim Bermudas (I’m sorry honey, those do not qualify as shorts unless you’re a Pandu) She even walked all the way from very far away, carrying what she likes to call, weights. By weights, she means flowers. The poor dear. The poor dear also got way too much biryani and way too little strawberries and wine, but that’s ok. We love her anyway. Can one get more esoteric than her? O’course not. Can one get more sarcastic than her? (Possibly, but lets just say o’course not, shall we?) Can one get any airier (or air headed-er) than her? Naaah. She rules, she rocks, she’s the K, she’s the babe, rockstar etc… whichever way the song goes.

And of course there was me, who slightly lost it eventually, and started putting marigold petals in my hair (K has a pic, you may ask her for it).

Such a lovely night it was, I just had to share. Aw.

I just broke my own heart. Feels strange. Feels good. Feels free.

I just thought of something so so clever and there, suddenly forgot! I keep doing that these days, but everything else takes up so much diskspace. That's what my poor dear comp at work says you know...

I just had a brilliant day, and figured I should put it on record. *grin*

I'm not too sure where anything is going right now, but I am going to bed. I can't believe the amount of enthusiasm my person is showing for work. W.O.R.K. I don't exactly like it, nor am I particularly good at it. I myself have no clue why I'm doing it, or even why I am awake at 2:47 AM in my office writing a post about what I don't necessarily like. I don't really get me sometimes.

Work has a way of fucking you up, especially when you work with set deadlines. You feel like you need to become the best of enemies with your dearest friends eventually, if you want to get the work done. And of course, the work has to be done and the greater good has to be achieved. My fingers ache, and my back doesn't want to stay up straight, and I miss my bed, my music, my room, my bathroom and all the colour in my house because I have been living at work for the last one week. Not exactly a fun time. Not at all, no. I want to whine but I can't really get myself to, because I am quite past whining. It's a sudden, matter-of-fact state of mind and I have truly begun to hate all the shit that is going on at work. There's suddenly too much pettiness, too much madness, to much sudden bursts of anger and it's beginning to get to me.

Plus theres mosquitoes to contend with because one particular asshole believes in leaving the door open all the while. So I even have ickle mosquitoe bites. Bastard mosquitoes. They're the root cause of it all you know. They're the ones, who go buzzing in your ear. They begin to irritate you with the buzzing, but then the buzz somehow hypnotises you and puts you to sleep. You can't really do anything about it, and they go on and suck away your blood. Bastards, really.

Anyways, that's enough about work and mosquitoes and me. I need to get some sleep, some desperately deep sleep. Goodnight.

Fuck it. I was going to write something here, so I started, but then I felt like deleting it all. About 300 words worth of ramblings of a paranoid adrenalin junkie. What a waste of finger movement that was. Aren’t you all relieved you don’t have to read it?

Currently listening to people at work droning and gushing over some old art catalogues. Good night & God Bless La La Land.

"It's okay. It's alright. Everything's just fine and no one can touch you. No one can hurt you, no one can make you cry and no one can draw blood out of you. You will be fine. Just fine."

If you say those lines often enough, you can almost get yourself to believe them. You'll almost feel like you're not that stupid, that fucked up and that dumb. Almost.

I can't get the numbers to work right...

I guess it’s time for one of those emo posts, you know, the ones where you reminisce about the year that was, and plan your life for the year that will be, and count all the friends you lost and all the notches on the bedpost that you gained…

So here goes, twenty-five things about the year that was:

1. I flunked my finals. I yelled at my principal. I realized that people like to screw you over just because you exist. The most education my college has ever given me. Joy.
   
2. I learned to play the bodhran. Coolness indeed.
   2005 – the year of fairy lights. Earth seems taken over, by fairy lights, for everything, everywhere.
   
3. Nick Drake, Nick Drake, Nick Drake. Obsession.
   
4. Art – I can tell you who will sell for what. Gimme a job, Osians!!!
   
5. Reunion of gay boyfriend and I. Some equations change. Some don’t.
   
6. Marriage of first crush. Ugh. Terrible bore, I must say.
   
7. I fell in love with kids. First the gorgeous Irish ones, and then the beautiful Noor.
   
8. My cat slowly grew into adolescence and now, I am happy to say, he has become an adult.
   
9. My brother, on the other hand, is still the juvenile brat he was at the beginning of this year and the last.
10. I bought two cell phones. What can I say, I am accident prone…
    
11. I found fabulous cake-making lady, who made me papaya-chocolate cake for my birthday. Yummmm.
    
12. Akshay, Geet, Aparna, Kunnu, Rahul. I love you all.
    
13. Discovery of Kaajal and Soorma in a big way.
    
14. Lahore. Pakistani men are hot. So hot.
    
15. Realisation – I am Irish. At least in my drinking habits. (Sounds better than alcoholic na?)
    
16. Jobs – Eventually, there’s nothing business about it. It’s all personal, as Puzo said.
    
17. Anne Rice. Is that woman a vampire or what???
    
18. Friends went away. Some I pushed. Some pushed me. Some went to the Promised Land. Some tried to kill themselves. Ha ha!
    
19. Absolut is heaven. Absolut heaven. Though single malt rocks too.
    
20. Single malt leads to further activities of the horizontal kind. Eep.
    
21. My phone book has more gay men in it than straight ones. And I don’t see it as a problem.
    
22. Aparna managed to psychoanalyse my fixation with gay men. Her analysis goes thus: Straight men I know fuck with me and I fuck with them, and then I have gay men to keep me grounded. Whatever what means. Anyone else wants a try.
    
23. Lord of the Rings is THE movie to watch when you’re on a weed and wine prescription.
    
24. Vogue addiction. All Hail Anna Wintour
    
25. I love me ME ME ME MEMEMEMEMEME!!!!!

Yeah, that’s that then.