One Line Update (cos I don't have the time to write a full length post, last exam tomorrow. I'm fubbared over Foucault.) : Deep you're a gem!
Now don't blush and run around in circles wondering if I'm planning to stalk you, we all know I'm too lazy and you're my hatur boishi, but this not-one-line-anymore update is my formal expression of gratitude for sage advice in the middle of the night...amidst all the hysterical giggling and mockery at my unfortunate state...what the hell boy, we're in the same boat and tomorrow we're gonna sink it...and after that, this town needs to be repainted!!!
The Original Post :
awwww...everyone who's been so sweet as to wonder why I haven't been blogging, I luuurbh you awll so much. And those of you who didn't do the wondering I luurbh you too but a lot less actually.
For the last ten days or so, I've been swept away in the general merry festivities all around. This involved preparing for exams *anyone who joined this party really late, in other words anyone who is unaware of my sadistic university's discriminatory agenda against Christians, get this: we have exams stretching right through this joyous season.*
Of course when I said preparing for exams, I didn't exactly mean studying for them. That has to be the one thing, I haven't done. On the other hand I have felt exceedingly guilty at crucial moments about not having studied, so let's say I'm prepared, in a manner of speaking.
As of now I have one exam left. My only excuse for not having studied is that I have been generally occupied in various activities which might not have had much to do with mistletoe but were nonetheless entirely in the loving spirit of Christmas.
The parents of course are utterly bewildered. Whenever they ask me to do lend a hand in the wedding preparations, which presently involves endless hours of last-minute shopping, I insist I'm terribly busy studying for my last exam; unfortunately as Baba astutely pointed out the other day, I haven't been at home long enough to do much other than eat and sleep.
The problem is when I try to write everything that happened I can never explain why a day which reads met x person, did y thing, said z things should have made me feel so wonderful. Suffice to say there have been a number of superb days but maybe I'll just mention some passing highlights *which unfortunately were usually not the high points*
hmm.....the most repeated occurrence of the week has to be getting lost in various parts of the city. There was the time I spent almost two hours with a bemused cabbie trying to follow directions yelled over the phone by an increasingly cranky friend *cell phones are the most blessed things in the universe and to be honest I deserved to be cranked at, seeing how I was over an hour late and the poor thing was missing lunch*.
Then there was the time the bus I was on decided to follow an unexpected detour and I jumped off the moving bus and into a cab, promptly got confused as to which way I should go and only reached my destination on time because Sohini yelled brilliant directions over Cassy's phone. The worst of course was when I got lost on my way to Cassy's house twice in the space of about three days.
Actually no, the worst was when I got lost on the landing between the stairs and the lift in someone's house. In my defense though, I should add that I was stoned. This would be the same night I looked out of the car window on the way home and said, "which city is this?" Of course, that's what Cassy claimed I'd said, and she may have made it up since I have no recollection of this part but then again, maybe not.
On the whole much fun has been had. Some of it has been embarrassing to say the least. Various people for example, insist that I did this dance thingy in an inspired moment some nights back. All I remember is someone asking me if I wanted to dance and then a few minutes later I was like, ok, that did not happen, whoever saw it will now forget that that happened. I can't dance to save my life, so I'm rather glad I don't remember the finer details of this one, but how I wish the wonderful people who were there would forget it as well!
Of course one of the highest points of the week was the blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment of my convocation when dressed in the brightest orange robes we strolled up to collect the degrees which declare us to be graduates. So one has now formally been declared a bachelor and an arty one too.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Friday, December 16, 2005
For six months now my explanation for not being a page 3 star on a mission to redecorate the town in vivid shades of scarlet has been as follows; "Oh, I don't have a life. I have a blog."
Normally this is muttered in the grouchiest of tones to my happening friend who leads a social life that would *almost* put Paris Hilton to shame.
Occasionally though when I'm out of witty things to say...and yes, before some well-meaning commenter points it out, I know I generally don't have witty things to say...the above line changes into :
"Oh, but I don't have a sense of humour, I have a blog."
Over the months enough blank stares of incomprehension have however forced me into the realization that this line is not only not-funny but also grammatically incoherent.
Of course, as people have noted and commented on, often and again, grammar and coherence have never been prerequisites
on my blog.
In case you were wondering, now of course, I don't even have a blog. I have exams.
gah! sadistic beasts who run my university...die all of you. Die!!!
post blog script : for those who have yet to learn to read between the lines and discover meaning in the little white spaces where there actually is nothing written, what this whole post translates into is this...WAAAAAAAAAAAAH.....my exam was so bad!!!!!
post blog script thought : and my anonymous friend who said and I quote, "if you temme tmorro that ur gonna flunk... ill give you...." *umm...never mind the rest of the sentence*....I'm not gonna flunk!! Get scrapings from the bottom of the barrel of marks, yes but flunk, no!
Normally this is muttered in the grouchiest of tones to my happening friend who leads a social life that would *almost* put Paris Hilton to shame.
Occasionally though when I'm out of witty things to say...and yes, before some well-meaning commenter points it out, I know I generally don't have witty things to say...the above line changes into :
"Oh, but I don't have a sense of humour, I have a blog."
Over the months enough blank stares of incomprehension have however forced me into the realization that this line is not only not-funny but also grammatically incoherent.
Of course, as people have noted and commented on, often and again, grammar and coherence have never been prerequisites
on my blog.
In case you were wondering, now of course, I don't even have a blog. I have exams.
gah! sadistic beasts who run my university...die all of you. Die!!!
post blog script : for those who have yet to learn to read between the lines and discover meaning in the little white spaces where there actually is nothing written, what this whole post translates into is this...WAAAAAAAAAAAAH.....my exam was so bad!!!!!
post blog script thought : and my anonymous friend who said and I quote, "if you temme tmorro that ur gonna flunk... ill give you...." *umm...never mind the rest of the sentence*....I'm not gonna flunk!! Get scrapings from the bottom of the barrel of marks, yes but flunk, no!
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Noses and mouth, Bakhtin tells us, dominated the medieval popular image of the body, whereas in modern times expressive features like the eyes dominate…
Never mind where I’m quoting from, suffice to say it’s from some erudite essay which ain’t making any sense to me, bleary eyed as I am after having stared at the computer through most of the day in a desperate attempt to study for bally exams-scheduled-to-screw-up-my-christmas-week.
Anyone who’s interested in how much I actually did manage to study, let’s see, what would be the best way to phrase this…let's just say…NOTHING! ! !
Nothing in the 15 hours I’ve been awake and sitting in front of this screen.
*yes dammit I woke up after noon, so sue me!*
**I was just following the corny advice to be found on the back of a particular brand of matchbox (for 50 paise, they give you 50 matchsticks and a proverb/joke/wise-crack-you-never-wanted-to-hear-in-the-first-place) and this particular pearl of wisdom read “If you do something you’ll regret the next morning, sleep till noon.”**
Yanyway, the point of this post is not that I’ve been up doing things at night which make me marginally unwilling to face the morning light; yes, I know people are fainting of curiosity out there and probably itching to slay me for being cryptic but I’m not going to elucidate. The point I wanted to make is closely tied up to the seemingly innocuous fragment I quoted right at the beginning. This would therefore be a good time to scroll up and refresh your memory.
*Incidentally if you don’t know who Bakhtin is, don’t bother to google for it, there are enough people out there (me for one) whose heads have been screwed up by reading things like Carnivalesque Traditions in Comedy, I really don’t want more bloggers succumbing to the curse of pseudo-intellectualis-bonbonitis.*
hmm…so apart from the fact that I have not been studying…aargh, shudder, ami phail korbo!!! what did I want to talk about? Oh yes. Eyes.
Well. Let’s face it. I am not quite reigning-beauty-queen material. In school I used to be this stick-like wiafish figure (and this was when I’d have killed for some curves). And when I hit the age when thin is in…..*sigh*
Somewhere in the not-too-distant-past someone mentioned epic proportions as being more suitable than my usually modest description of myself as a leetle plump.
*deep sigh*
**turns to mirror to realize mirror has already cracked in anticipation of this moment.**
Not that any of this matters of course. I can deal with the groaning weight machines. I can deal with friends who remind me that it’s not just the colour of my clothes that enhances my similarity to a blue whale.
*deep breath..slowly exhale*
Right. There’s just one thing I have always liked about myself and this is where modesty can go for a walk. I like my eyes. They’re not huge or beautifully shaped. They don’t look that good in photographs and they’re not even a sexy interesting colour. They’re plain black. Or probably darkest brown. But having got the necessary clarifications over lets just say if you don’t like my eyes, I don’t really care but I love them.
And then today this random female accosted me and said "Why are you looking so bland, dahling. Your eyes are all small and droopy."
And I realized, damn, I’ve just lost my one and only charm.
Cassy, I’m all sympathy on this one.
Addendum : I’m growing quite fond of this small print thingy, and this is the little disclaimer…at least this would have been the disclaimer if I could figure out what to disclaim.
O what the heck, my gentle reader, you know I’m attractive, charming, young and beautiful.*ahem*
So yeah this post really isn’t me fishing for compliments. It’s just the outcome of too much not-studying, a really screwed up brain and the recollection that I have juniors who call me an old hag.
*slowly exhaling breath*
**I’m twenty-two!! If it’s old hag now what on earth will they call me when I’m forty?**
low muted scream.
Now you know why I’m not studying. Cos I’m writing insane blog posts about my inane insecurities.
Never mind where I’m quoting from, suffice to say it’s from some erudite essay which ain’t making any sense to me, bleary eyed as I am after having stared at the computer through most of the day in a desperate attempt to study for bally exams-scheduled-to-screw-up-my-christmas-week.
Anyone who’s interested in how much I actually did manage to study, let’s see, what would be the best way to phrase this…let's just say…NOTHING! ! !
Nothing in the 15 hours I’ve been awake and sitting in front of this screen.
*yes dammit I woke up after noon, so sue me!*
**I was just following the corny advice to be found on the back of a particular brand of matchbox (for 50 paise, they give you 50 matchsticks and a proverb/joke/wise-crack-you-never-wanted-to-hear-in-the-first-place) and this particular pearl of wisdom read “If you do something you’ll regret the next morning, sleep till noon.”**
Yanyway, the point of this post is not that I’ve been up doing things at night which make me marginally unwilling to face the morning light; yes, I know people are fainting of curiosity out there and probably itching to slay me for being cryptic but I’m not going to elucidate. The point I wanted to make is closely tied up to the seemingly innocuous fragment I quoted right at the beginning. This would therefore be a good time to scroll up and refresh your memory.
*Incidentally if you don’t know who Bakhtin is, don’t bother to google for it, there are enough people out there (me for one) whose heads have been screwed up by reading things like Carnivalesque Traditions in Comedy, I really don’t want more bloggers succumbing to the curse of pseudo-intellectualis-bonbonitis.*
hmm…so apart from the fact that I have not been studying…aargh, shudder, ami phail korbo!!! what did I want to talk about? Oh yes. Eyes.
Well. Let’s face it. I am not quite reigning-beauty-queen material. In school I used to be this stick-like wiafish figure (and this was when I’d have killed for some curves). And when I hit the age when thin is in…..*sigh*
Somewhere in the not-too-distant-past someone mentioned epic proportions as being more suitable than my usually modest description of myself as a leetle plump.
*deep sigh*
**turns to mirror to realize mirror has already cracked in anticipation of this moment.**
Not that any of this matters of course. I can deal with the groaning weight machines. I can deal with friends who remind me that it’s not just the colour of my clothes that enhances my similarity to a blue whale.
*deep breath..slowly exhale*
Right. There’s just one thing I have always liked about myself and this is where modesty can go for a walk. I like my eyes. They’re not huge or beautifully shaped. They don’t look that good in photographs and they’re not even a sexy interesting colour. They’re plain black. Or probably darkest brown. But having got the necessary clarifications over lets just say if you don’t like my eyes, I don’t really care but I love them.
And then today this random female accosted me and said "Why are you looking so bland, dahling. Your eyes are all small and droopy."
And I realized, damn, I’ve just lost my one and only charm.
Cassy, I’m all sympathy on this one.
Addendum : I’m growing quite fond of this small print thingy, and this is the little disclaimer…at least this would have been the disclaimer if I could figure out what to disclaim.
O what the heck, my gentle reader, you know I’m attractive, charming, young and beautiful.*ahem*
So yeah this post really isn’t me fishing for compliments. It’s just the outcome of too much not-studying, a really screwed up brain and the recollection that I have juniors who call me an old hag.
*slowly exhaling breath*
**I’m twenty-two!! If it’s old hag now what on earth will they call me when I’m forty?**
low muted scream.
Now you know why I’m not studying. Cos I’m writing insane blog posts about my inane insecurities.
Saturday, December 03, 2005
This will be a whiney sort of post so anyone who drops in looking for a light laugh at the end of the day or the beginning (if you happen to be reading this in the middle of all the pending work you're all always busy with) this would be a good time to retreat. Yes, that's the close window button right there and all you have to do is quickly look at your watch and go uuhhm, I got an appointment in ten minutes, really have to run now and make a dash for it. Do it now, while you still have the time or else be prepared for a tale of unspeakable woe.
Of course if you do seriously twiddle your thumbs and dash off pretending to look embarrassed at leaving me amidst all my sorrow be warned I will hunt you down *one by one* and leave nasty comments on your blogs...
*Ahem*, not that I insist you hang around and listen to me whine or anything like that. I wouldn't dream of emotionally blackmailing you into giving me sympathy or anything like that. Of course if you're still reading because you luurbh me so much *bat bat* I luuurbh you all too. *And anyone who so much as smiles through the rest of the post, be warned this is not meant to be a laugh-athon, the blog-sphere is not invited to laugh at my misery hmph*
I sigh, I weep, I swim distractedly from corner to corner of my virtual fish bowl and howl mournfully for a lost friend...sniff....yes you heard me right...Cassandra loves me no more......sneef sneef....this is a moment of sad realization and much pathos....*deep sigh*
*not that miss mortmain reads this blog anymore but if she happens to be sniggering on reading this woman I am most terribly hurt, and because hell hath no fury like a class mate spurned I will let the whole blog world know about how you have broken my heart and then jumped up and down on the pieces to the tune of Kajra re!!!*
If my gentle reader can bear to dwell on the scene of distressing heart-break I shall clutch my bleeding-beating-broken heart *metaphorically speaking of course* and tell you my sad tale...but first, let me wipe away my tears....*heart rending sigh*
So, there I was.
Feeling somewhat unwell, morose, a little low on life.
Endless day at college, all the load of studies not studied and papers not yet papered...ah well.....the little traumas that fill the life of us endlessly tortured students.
And I happened to mention to my once beloved cassandra..."I'm not feeling well".
And with a callous shrug of her shoulders came the answer that has left shattered pieces of my heart on the corridors of the department "I don't care!"
This then is my twagic tale...shudder all ye who have read and beware of fwiends who backstab at the end of thwee and a half years of endless hours spent over all the little things that build ever-lasting friendships like old-english translations and raped locks and erm such like things.....*sigh*....unhappy is the I.....
Post Blog Script : This is the disclaimer of sorts in fine print that's going to save my skin when miss. mortmain finishes reading this post and heads towards my house with woman-slaughter on mind...erm...cassy, remember how you said I haven't mentioned you on my blog in ages, well how's this, an entire post ALL about *you*....
*sheepish grin*
You did know I was kidding right?
RIGHT?
aaaaaargh!!!!
haaalp, she's gonna kill me!!!!!!!!!!
Of course if you do seriously twiddle your thumbs and dash off pretending to look embarrassed at leaving me amidst all my sorrow be warned I will hunt you down *one by one* and leave nasty comments on your blogs...
*Ahem*, not that I insist you hang around and listen to me whine or anything like that. I wouldn't dream of emotionally blackmailing you into giving me sympathy or anything like that. Of course if you're still reading because you luurbh me so much *bat bat* I luuurbh you all too. *And anyone who so much as smiles through the rest of the post, be warned this is not meant to be a laugh-athon, the blog-sphere is not invited to laugh at my misery hmph*
I sigh, I weep, I swim distractedly from corner to corner of my virtual fish bowl and howl mournfully for a lost friend...sniff....yes you heard me right...Cassandra loves me no more......sneef sneef....this is a moment of sad realization and much pathos....*deep sigh*
*not that miss mortmain reads this blog anymore but if she happens to be sniggering on reading this woman I am most terribly hurt, and because hell hath no fury like a class mate spurned I will let the whole blog world know about how you have broken my heart and then jumped up and down on the pieces to the tune of Kajra re!!!*
If my gentle reader can bear to dwell on the scene of distressing heart-break I shall clutch my bleeding-beating-broken heart *metaphorically speaking of course* and tell you my sad tale...but first, let me wipe away my tears....*heart rending sigh*
So, there I was.
Feeling somewhat unwell, morose, a little low on life.
Endless day at college, all the load of studies not studied and papers not yet papered...ah well.....the little traumas that fill the life of us endlessly tortured students.
And I happened to mention to my once beloved cassandra..."I'm not feeling well".
And with a callous shrug of her shoulders came the answer that has left shattered pieces of my heart on the corridors of the department "I don't care!"
This then is my twagic tale...shudder all ye who have read and beware of fwiends who backstab at the end of thwee and a half years of endless hours spent over all the little things that build ever-lasting friendships like old-english translations and raped locks and erm such like things.....*sigh*....unhappy is the I.....
Post Blog Script : This is the disclaimer of sorts in fine print that's going to save my skin when miss. mortmain finishes reading this post and heads towards my house with woman-slaughter on mind...erm...cassy, remember how you said I haven't mentioned you on my blog in ages, well how's this, an entire post ALL about *you*....
*sheepish grin*
You did know I was kidding right?
RIGHT?
aaaaaargh!!!!
haaalp, she's gonna kill me!!!!!!!!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)