The ground beneath my feet

For the very first time, I felt an earthquake take place today. I cant decide whether to add it to my mental list of 'very firsts', because it's an earthquake, it's not supposed to be fun. Although I cant really say that all of my 'very firsts' were fun. So yeah. There was an earthquake today, and i felt it.

"Ho Ho Ho !" Yeah Shut the F**k Up!

It's 2:06 am, 25th December, aka Christmas.

Friends are having fun, parents are sleeping.

I'm doing neither.

Evenings such as these really brings with it this wretched feeling of sordidness.

Earlier when I was a kid, during winter I would get these sudden urges to create artwork and crafts and things alike, and after making something I would be thoroughly disappointed with myself and end up throwing the entire thing into the dustbin, only after ripping it to pieces.

No, this had nothing to do with my short-temper, rage or impatience and not that I wasn't good at art- I was rather good at it. It was just this inadequate feeling that hovered in the air and sucked the fun out of everything.

Contrarily, winter is also when I'm quite happy and active most of the time. In summer I'm cranky and lazy. Yes.

So it's weird how I can have such contradictory feelings. I guess that's why I really like and identify with the phrase "in two minds" whether it means you're indecisive or you're having mixed feelings, it kind of goes with what's going on in my head most of the time, although I don't like to think of myself as a fickle person. I'm not I guess, or am I? And this doesn't mean that I am.

My mother is very fickle-minded ( when i was a kid, I used to say 'frickle-minded' instead of 'fickle-minded', but that's not important right now). My mother is the queen of fickle-minded people. I say this often but she's like the Roman mob, except she's one person.

and now I dont want to type anymore.

This sucks.

Below, are some Christmas photos.

Enjoy.

Flash

I haven't blogged for ages. ages.

So, I was watching Full House (it takes my mind off things and makes me less irritable when I am irritable, like right now) and there's this episode where Jesse's writing a report for school on his new computer/laptop and his twin sons accidentally erase the 12 page report and Jesse's going ballistic, and finally Stephanie somehow restores the file for him and i see that the report is on 'Death of a Saleman' which is a play by Arthur Miller.

This made me realize that earlier, when I had seen this episode I didn't know about the play so I didn't care, but since I studied it this semester in college I am now familiar with it and I can tell that whatever they show of the report - it's all accurate- the facts and information etc. There are so many things that I've come across before in so many different places and they haven't mattered before because I never knew what they were or anything about them, but when I come across those same things years later, they seem to matter because I know what those things are and they suddenly make sense and hold importance to me.

This is the snapshot of the report that Jesse was working on:

MUAHAHA

I HATE INDEPENDECE DAY!

Sick

I thought I had Swine Flu

But I dont.

Thank God for that.

Dying of Swine Flu is kind of like the most sissiest way to die, that i can think of right now.

Chhi.

Phew.

and i found a photo online.

its disgusting but im going to put it up anyway.

Good Riddance!

After suffering for the majority of the last year with a diseased internet connection one that is more infamously known as BSNL broadband unlimited, I finally put my foot down and got it replaced with a TATA Indicom and suddenly the whole virtual world seems like a much better place..lightning fast and so easily accessible.

With a speed of 384 kb/ps and 1.5 mb/ps from 10 pm to 8 am and on sundays, I can safely assure myself that i can bid my sucky internet connection days a hearty goodbye.

It feels good to be back.

[sigh of relief]

A Guide To Recognizing Your Saints

Sometimes after experiencing a large part of the things that come our way, through all the decisions and in-decisions, the things we choose to do and those that we don't,  all the loving and the hating, the right and wrong and the confusion between the two as to which is which, we search for our saints to guide us through, mostly, unintentionally.

And we usually end up recognizing our saints in the people we left way behind in our journey.

(maybe now that i've realized this, i'll look out for my saints.)

" A GUIDE TO RECOGNIZING YOUR SAINTS" (2006)

Dito Montiel

PS: Yes, Sambit, you were right. It's beautiful.

Amor

It was one of those days... where it's a minute away from snowing, and there was this electricity in the air. You can almost hear it. And this bag was just... dancing with me, like a little kid begging me to play with it, for  fifteen minutes. That's the day I realized that there was this...entire life behind things...and this incredibly benevolent force...that wanted me to know that there was no reason to be afraid...ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know, but it helps me remember. I need to remember. Sometimes there's so much beauty...in the world. I feel like I cant take it...and my heart...is just going to...cave in.

Brain Hemorrhage- Thoughts spilled out.

It sucks that its not winter, cause i like winter. Most of the other kids from school love summer cause they get to go to the beach and get a tan and hang out with friends. i like the beach too, but only when its empty, when i sneak out and sit there by myself at night sometimes, especially in winter. When the cold wind that crashes onto the shore with the waves strike my face i love the feel of the raw chill against my skin like a thousand blazing knives cutting against it, yeah i love that. The other kids in school think I'm a weirdo, and maybe thats why i don't have any friends. I don't blame them, i know I'm weird. And besides i like to spend time on my own, or maybe I've just gotten used to it.

I like winter, because it's cold, cold like ice, cold like a stare that makes you feel clammy, cold like the left side of my mom's bed, cold like my toilet seat early in the morning, cold like me.

I used to have a dog when i was like eight.

He was called Thor. He got run over by a truck. I remember crying alot.

I go over to Mr. Walsh three times a week to do his gardening for him. He pays me ten dollars for it. He lets me have his home-made ham sandwiches and beer cause i told him my mom was cool with me drinking, and he actually believed it. He's kind of old and deathly afraid of garden lizards.

So you know nothing concrete about me do you?

Neither do i.

But the thing is i dont want to.

But you do.