Sunday, June 26, 2011
I think when you're happy, you dismiss the thought of venting forever (or atleast you think you've dismissed it). However, sooner or later, you remember of your blog's existence and how in times of distress (slight exaggeration) it always proves to be a faithful companion. And so, here I am. I've gotten round(er) and although everyone insists that love makes you fat, I think stuffing your face and popping chocolates in your mouth everytime you open the fridge is a more likely explanation. I've tried to befriend exercise, I really have. Let's just say he isn't too fond of me. Or even better, we do not get along. So instead, I'm taking diet out to coffee (I drink green tea ofcourse) every day, hoping to woo him, if not anything else. I'll let you know how that goes. Then, there's the fact that I'm doing nothing productive in life. My father gave me a lecture yesterday that seemed to strike a chord. Promptly I made a list (which I've stuck to so far and yes, I'm aware it's only been a day) and drew furiously until there was a pretty good looking tiger staring at me from what-was-once-a-white-sheet. Sometimes, I love to be angry and silently reflect (more like swear at myself). Next, Whale Wars that comes on Discovery at 10 pm everyday. Yes, everyday. You'd think they'd have a heart and not air it on the weekend, but no. My father, probably their most loyal viewer in India watches it, you guessed it, everyday. Which means we are deprived of 9 pm movies everyday, because let's face it, who wants to watch a movie until 10 and then pick up after an hour. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against the program. Except everyone's dedication on the show makes me feel shitty about myself and my lack of dedication. Not to mention how the Japanese kill these whales mercilessly, which makes me cry. Cry because you'd be lying if you said Free Willy didn't touch your heart (even at that young age). Did I mention that college has started? And I hate it? Yes, somethings never change, do they? Like my insecurities, for instance. And the fact that I let everything get to me and that I'm a bitch four days a month (on a minimum, mind you) and that I let the past bother me wayyy more than it should and that I procrastinate too much and that I'm not using punctuation to separate my sentences right now because these persistent issues are so normal to me at this point I hardly even regard them with attention. I'm getting the feeling that I might have just contradicted myself. Never mind, just add that to the list.
Monday, June 13, 2011
It's always the same story. For as long as I can remember, my birthday week has always stood out. No, not in good, memorable way. And NO not because I'm in any way excited or looking forward to it (far from it actually), but because I can't think straight with all the bloody pressure. In fact, right now, my head is ten minutes away from exploding. Having gone to six different stores and found nothing ('new clothes' is a must, they insist) really hasn't done me any good. Every year, I'm reminded of how much I detest shopping. I either find something, or I don't. Or I want the entire store. So see, I'm the last person who enjoys shopping. Shopaholic? Hah. Chances of OD'ing on heroin are higher, trust me. Anyway, then there are excited and jumpy people all around me who go into party-planning mode and refuse to slow down to ask me whether I might have an opinion. It doesn't sound too bad here, I know. But trust me, you aren't the one sitting here with a bitchofamigraine (and near death approaching, steadily). Since you'll listen, here is exactly what I want to do this birthday: crawl under my purple blanket and SLEEP. And okay, go ahead and call me boring if you want to. See if I care.