The Inside of my Head..

..is a perfectly fine place to be. A little dusty, true, but fits one person perfectly. With all the other voices that live in here.

Yes, I can feel the walls coming up, the bolts falling into place. Sounds of comforting finality.

I like it in here.

Tag thingy.

Yeah I know it is almost 4 in the morning. So what. I'm feeling oddly awake. Not so much in the sense of 'very awake' as in the sense of how-could-i-be-awake-at-all. Anyway, I am. Everything carries a moral, and this one's is that six teas in an hour (is?are?) a very bad idea. Not even the sight of my fabulously pink and delightfully fuzzy Tinkerbell blanket is making me sleepy.

However I could deflect the blame for this wide-awake-ness on the fact that I am freezing my unmentionables off. Have I mentioned I live in the desert? Yes? Well I would like to point out to all my dear readers, in whose minds visions of sand dunes cluttered with camels and men in frocks (both tending to an excess of facial hair) no doubt manifest as soon as I say "desert", that yes, certainly, the desert can be hot, very hot, oh-god-i-am-evaporating hot, and it is, too, for most of the year. Then it changes its mind and decides to be cold. And when I say cold, I mean cold. Cold. Cold. I cannot sleep in the cold. Having absolved my six teas of any blame in keeping me awake (They're dip-dip. As much caffeine-content as baby formula, and about as much random particulate matter), I have decided that I am awake because of the cold. Thus I have attired myself in two pairs of socks, and three layers in everything else, as also a locally made ugly fat black muffler and a large green knit cap. My nose, only, is exposed to the elements. Which would explain its healthy red colour, abnormally large size and shiny tip. I would cover that as well, but then I would have to stop breathing. An interesting side effect of such is that I would die. I am brought almost to tears at the thought of the waste of all that potential; at the altar of humanity, then, I sacrifice my nose.

(also my nose doesn't like being bundled up. It is big-ish. Note the '-ish'.)

(anyone who says anything to the effect that the fat nose is less due to the cold and more due to the fact that it is actually fat, shall be spammed. And I mean it.)

I am, for lack of anything else to do, going to pick up the tag Divya left me. Here:

RULE #1 People who have been tagged must write their answers on their blogs and replace any question that they dislike with a new question formulated by themselves.

RULE #2 Tag 5 people to do this quiz and those who are tagged cannot refuse. These people must state who they were tagged by and cannot tag the person whom they were tagged by. Continue this game by sending it to other people.

1. If your lover betrayed you what would your reaction be?

An overwhelming sense of pity for him. He has deprived himself the fabulousness that is me.

2. Whose butt would you like to kick?

Ooh several people's! But first, Big Butt's. I want to test the bounce-back quotient. I want to see if it bounces back nicely like I believe it will or caves in like the beanbag it looks like. Purely scientific venture, clearly. I'm the ideal student. Excuse me for a moment. I believe I am overcome by my own awesomeness.

3. What would you do with a billion dollars?

Wait patiently for the IRS to make it into half a billion dollars. Buy myself a tropical island, a boat and Johnny Depp. Spend rest of my life taking advantage of said boat and said Depp, on said island.

4. Will you fall in love with your best friend?

Have.

5. Which is more blessed: loving someone or being loved by someone?

I have to have both to be happy.

6. How long would you wait for someone you love?

I wish I knew. Especially now.

7. If the person you like is secretly attached, what would you do?

Nothing. Mostly because they're secretly attached. Dumbass.

8. What takes you down the fastest?

The sensing of a real probability that I might not be as fabulous as I believe I am. In other words, loss of conceit.

9. Where do you see yourself in 10 years' time?

Someplace with a toilet that has a FAUCET. And (dare I hope..?) a shower with RUNNING HOT WATER!!!!

I've been told such places exist! Really!

Stay strong, fellow inmates. We shall see this faucet-ed and hot-water-ed heaven soon. Hallelujah.

10. What's your fear?

Losing faith in my ability to pull anything that I really want, off.

11. Would you rather be single and rich or married and poor?

Single and rich.

12. If you fall in love with two people simultaneously who would you pick?

Someone else entirely, and have torrid affairs with both. :) I am nothing if not impartial.

13. Would you give all in a relationship?

I have.

14. What's eating you now?

Literally, nothing. Since I am effectively spherical right now due to the abundance of clothing, not even the most diligent of insects can get close enough to me to matter. But usually "what's eating you now?" can be answered by "i don't know, i think it's a new species, its bites look like a series of ginormous hickeys, and that fraud-doctor on campus is treating me for leukoderma. With Crocin." The desert is not short of crawlies of the more malevolent and less known kind, have I mentioned.

But figuratively? The fact that I am misspelling almost everything I type, the first time. This is mostly because of the (deadly!)cold. But I am also firmly convinced that it has more than a little to do with my fingers themselves, which are roughly four miles long each. And then the nails start. Instructions given at one end are lost by the time they get to the other. I'm glad I don't play the piano. I'd be Lady Divya Banana-hands. Charmingly succinctly descriptive, but nothing I'd be happy about, you understand.

15. Tag 5 people...

Ah just do it if you've read it, no. I'm too bored to think.

---

See, Divya. Indignant at your allegation that I will probably be funny even in answering such an unfunny tag, I have applied myself as seriously as I can. Aside from the occasional ramble, I've managed, no?

Also, I NOW UNDERSTAND WHY I AM AWAKE.

I'm hungry.

For the LAST time.

To you, you miserable engineering student from the college that is possessed of both the size and academic repute of my parents' bathroom; you, who stuck your misshapen nose into the air, and asked me, why are you doing law?, labouring under the delusion that you were being original, witty and interesting, here is your answer.

I am not 'doing' law.

Law is having its violent way with me.

I heart Internship.

This is for everyone who asked about my internship. You will remember I'd said it was uniformly boring. I forgot to mention that it has its points. This is one of them:

"My client is having so much of affaction and is a santimantally smooth man, not enjoying any of the bad habits and a very ordant, desiplined and extinct son. Thusly it is urged of this Learned Court that the petitioner has brought an unclean suit and relief of (---) is subsequently prayed."

This is an extract from one of the more delightful plaints that it was my job to read, enjoy and...well... they said "edit" but I thought that would simply kill the dramatic effect. And that would be criminal, would it not. I love the telling little details. That the respondent is a man who may possess the odd bad habit, sure, but he is very careful not to enjoy them. If that isn't virtuous I don't know what is. Not, also, for our dashing respondent, the attractions of modesty; he is quite clear that he is not only ordant and deseplined, but also extinct. I am not quite clear how being extinct is interpreted as being an argument in his favour, but perhaps it has something to do with the exclusivity of it. ;)

I had no intention of editing this plaint (amongst several others), and I do not regret it. The only thing I do regret is being unable to catch this particular case in court. I'd have loved to hear that judge on this one. This judge has been known to question advocates' knowledge of the CPC in open court. Advocates knowledge of pretty much everything, actually. In much detail, with much glee. He is an evil, evil old fart. I love him.

Ha, yes. I think I quite liked this internship.


Even though I've worn my legs six inches down by dint of walking around the same staircase thrice in the same twenty minutes. Which reminds me, is it some sort of tradition to lose your way the first ten times you visit? Or do the traditions merely stop with the distinctly unflattering polyester waistcoats and tacky gown-thingies? And damp towels slung across the backs of judges chairs? And drinking rose - or badam or chocolate - flavoured milk (i kid you not.) in the lunch break?

Have I mentioned that I have completely eliminated any idea I may have had about practising in the Madras High Court.

(the filter coffee is phat, though. And free. That makes it double-phat. Very phattening, basically. Eh heh heh heh. Sorry. I'm shutting up now.)

Next.

I swam today.

It's been two years.

The water was as beautiful as always, the pool fabulously, invitingly, empty. Cold sapphire coloured water distorting the cheap granite facing on the tiles underneath. Little orange buoys bobbing at the other end, asking to me to lift a leg, stretch an arm, cut through cold fluid, come over. Come over. Little drops of water'd coalesced on my stubbornly brown skin, paling now because of the cold. Fine black hairs standing up on the tips of tiny white goosebumps. Orange sky. Faintly oily, slightly slick skin. So much for waterproof sunblock. Oily rubbish. Cheap shit.

The water is so cold, I love it, so cold. My arms are freezing. My mother will kill me. I began to swim. I swam. I was done in an hour or so.. I left.


I hated it. I'm never doing it again.


Inexplicable, really, how you can be so completely indifferent to something you once felt so much for. For all that I loved to swim once, I felt nothing close to enjoyment this time over. This is it, then.... swimming bores me now. I've been wondering when it will happen. It's not often that I sustain an interest in things as long as I have in this.


I wonder what's up next. And how long I will take to tire of it.

Indifferent and happy on facebook.

okay see.

This is my winter break. Considering I spend all my free time, and considerable chunks of my working time asleep, it is not such a very crazy idea to grasp that my legs/arms/fingers/etc have not sen more exercise than absolOOtely necessary, this vacation. I have spent as MUCH of my time as humanly possible, parked firmly between bedsheet and blanket. I have only bestirred my happily prostrate self to eat, drink, crap and stalk people on facebook. Facebook is most of the time, it's fairly passive, uniformly annoying self, not interrupting my voyeuristic joys except to log me out mysteriously or ask me What Kind of Boyfriend Will I Have?

BUT. But.

I am an observant person. I have, through my keen observational skills, noticed the presence of evil on this site. Evil in the form of persons whose lives revolve around getting other people to change their display pictures of the national flag. Or plain black. Or plain white. Or.. strangely, Red Bull (?!).

Now you know me. I have the same fairly spaz pic up on facebook that I have always had. I log in. I stalk harmlessly. I find out what Jaane Tu character I am most like, the type of boyfriend i am going to attract, what kind of car I am, what kind of gun I am, and what That 70s Show character I am like. I log out. (Sometimes I also not log out, but I fail to see the relevance of such in the point I am trying to make.)

I do not form Groups to End Social Evil. I do not Protest Evil Globalisation. And I certainly do not send my friends amusingly breathless messages commanding them to turn ur display photoz black to protest d mumbai teror attcks!!!!!! turn ur dispix white to pray 4 worldd peaceee!!!

I am not NOT cooperating because the connection between my changing my dispic and muslim terrorists dropping dead is non sequitor. I am not NOT cooperating because facebook is a social networking site, and there is nothing more annoying than a social networking site that begins to put on airs.

I am not cooperating because I simply don't want to cooperate.

And that, I think, is as good a reason as any.

Ta, ye faithful. Happy New Year; I wish you all sobriety at midnight.

I has read a book. REALLY.

Four, actually.

However, it was only the Twilight series. I suppose that doesn't count, that's like saying I listen to Contemporary Music and then bursting into Baby One More Time... hmm. I like that song. Fun tune, composed of that delicately balanced combination of sugarcandy and acid reflux that promises to drive you up the wall by staying in your head till kingdom come..

ANYWAY. Twilight.

Twilight is a story about an obsessive teen-vampire love thingy. Wallflower teen stalks broody vampire who wants to eat her cos she smells of flowers and other nice-smelling things, but can't because he's sworn off humans. Eventually he decides to address that problem by dating her (don't ask me, I didn't write it.) So then they have a true (and truly obsessive)love characterised by what characterises all true love stories. You know, the usual. The unearthly(unearthly-ly? unearthlily?) beautiful monster and the emo teen girl who pees everytime she sees him. Cos of his Beauty. And how it Overwhelms her. And cos of his Beauty. And cos of..

Yes, well.

But seriously, twilight starts off okay, and Stephanie Meyer can pull it together better than some (many) other teenfic writers I've read. And I get that Edward Cullen is supposed to be the unattainable: the beautiful, considerate and delightfully sarky boy with shiny skin and perfect hair. (And bloodsucking, of course. That's hot. That's just how we roll ;D ) It's just that there's only so far you get on the believability scale when pretty much half the novel is taken up in whinily insisting to the reader, in something like the mental voice of that ten year old cousin you secretly want to choke with rubber tubing, that Edward is beautiful, Edward is beautiful, Edward is unearthly, Edward is beautiful. Stephanie Meyer ends up falling from the precarious position of almost-successful-teenfic writer to the depths of the depths: yammering-Edward-groupie. Sad, yesno.

Oh, the rest of the series?

Ok, there's a bunch of werewolves who don't quite like the vampires, but of course they bond over love for poor fangirl here, and the four books (each one a little longer than the last, until the last is the effing Encylopedia Brittanica: Harry Potter Syndrome?) , after a torturous and largely boring journey, culminates in the birth of a bloodsucking fangirl; fruit of the union of guess-who and guess-who-again.

Who, in turn, is pursued by vampires but loved by werewolf and.....well, you get the point. There's Lots of Love. And Unearthly Beauty. And Descriptions of Unearthly Beauty. Long, Detailed, Oh-God-I-Get-It-Already-Please-Stop-Now-Please Descriptions of Unearthly Beauty.

I guess I've outgrown pretty boys with delicately sarky tongues and fabulous hair and Deeply Tortured Souls. Awwww poor me. This must be my coming-of-age moment. :D

It was nice spin anyway. Maybe I'm just pissed cos they chose Robert Pattinson to play Edward.

I'd have gone with Hugh Jackman. :D