Will I ever finish 'Rebecca'...?

There are funny characters in life. Whether you’re at school or college or work there’s always at least one person whom you’d rather avoid. You see these well intentioned, strangely unpopular people and you ask yourself, does she ever stop talking?
Is being that loud natural for him?
Will she ever learn not to call everyone ‘sweety’?
Will he stop trying to pick his nose in public?

And the worst part is you can never tell them these things because if you do, you’re mean. Like those snobby cheerleaders in American teen flicks.

I have something I must do before I graduate. The college library has this one copy of Daphne du Maurier’s ‘Rebecca’ which I have been attempting to finish for the past two years whenever I get a chance to sit down in the library (which is very rare.) So I get this great opportunity to finish it after one of my practical exams when the buses were late.

Unfortunately, the girl sitting next to me had to describe all her cousins, her vacations, why she can’t score centum in her math finals (!) while completely ignoring the ‘Silence please’ signs and my utter lack of enthusiasm in the topics she found so witty and fascinating. I pointedly kept returning to my book, but taking a hint seemed to be a harder concept for her to grasp than Fourier Transforms. I left the library after half an hour when I found I hadn’t finished reading a single page.

Popularity is too hyped. It's not all that great. So kudos to everyone who manages to be cool without jumping on the bandwagon.
If people deliberately start avoiding you though (which is totally rude, I agree, but can you blame them?) you might want to think about why and try to avoid it. You'll make a lot more friends that way.

Hitch or...Hitchcock?

Weddings. Why are they such an ordeal? I have nothing against the sentiment behind it but I am bothered about why it has to be such a public spectacle. I doubt people actually enjoy getting married anymore. And what's the point if you don't enjoy it? I'm only 19 and therefore, my ideas are going to be extremely biased. But hey, if the shoe fits...you want to have a great wedding?

Elope.
Take your parents and siblings along, by all means.
Of course, you can’t lose best friends even if you try to.
And your dog. You can’t leave your dog behind.
Oh, and don’t forget the groom.

Guys, sell the idea to your girl if you don’t want a thousand people gaping at you when you’re getting hitched. Hey, I know you don’t care either way but in this case, it’ll probably be easier to convince everyone that wearing jeans to your wedding isn’t sacrilege.

I don’t know about you but I think that the concept of an ‘Indian Wedding’ is truly the best horror story in the world. Other weddings are slightly less scary only because…well, I’ve never gone to one.
Be romantic, all of you crazy people in love. Run.

If you actually want a big, insanely pointless wedding with all the trappings and hype, you shouldn't have read this.

First shower of the season

Finally, it’s raining in Chennai!
Everyone has a theory why it gets hotter every year and why it never rains when it’s supposed to. Want to know mine?
SIN. Pure and simple sin. We build something on every square inch of land we can find and encroach on air space; we pollute the few water bodies in the city beyond the boundaries of what our olfactory sense can bear, we harbour corrupt politicians, we drive too many vehicles, we litter our public areas and we don’t care. God is punishing us mortals with irregular rain. And we're punishing ourselves with bad drainage.

I’m not a saint or anything but it does annoy me when people say, “Why bother when it’s only going to get worse?” Please, if you get cancer you’re not going to sit around waiting to die until it’s too late. And you’re not going to say, “Oh it’s too expensive to treat. I’d rather die.”

Coming back to the point, the weather is amazing. Can you believe that I haven’t seen lightning for such a long time? I stayed awake last night just to watch the flashes of light behind my closed window. It’s strangely exhilarating. Apparently, someone somewhere in this city is doing something right.

All roads lead to...where exactly?

I’m jealous. All my friends are done with their semesters already and I’m freaking out here. Some one I know, once told me, ‘We’re like rockets. We can’t fly unless we’re on fire.’ I can’t believe I’m actually quoting this person (!) Anyway, he’s right. Moving on…
These are a few things all professional last minute workers know:

1. The amount of work you put in is inversely proportional to the time left for the deadline/exam/submission date.

2. The mood only really hits the night before.

3. Short term memory is God’s gift to you. Use it wisely and often.

4. Do not freak out…till the last minute.

5. Catch up on all the conversations you’ve missed with God so far. And try not to keep it to a monologue of “Please, please, please, please save me.”
Boredom is not a concept alien to God.

6. This will never work unless you’re crazy.

7. We’re all crazy.

8. It’s going to work.

9. Right?

10. God? Can you please, please, please….?


See? It’s fairly easy.
By the way, you really shouldn’t listen to me. Really, do not listen to me. Listen to your professors and parents. Start studying early. Do NOT tell people that you’re crazy. Get a job which will raise your chances of cardiac arrest. Have an arranged marriage. Live happily ever after.
The End.


Of course, I’ll still be around. My fate isn’t all that clear right now. I’m researching alternate routes to happily ever after. I’m also locationally challenged. I have no clue how to get from one place to another which should only make things more entertaining right?
Lucky me.

Moms of the world - you guys rock!

Moms. What makes them tick? Yes, love is the obvious answer but how easy it is for us to forget that they’re only people.

They say that, on an average, a woman goes through more pain during childbirth than a soldier in his entire life. After the mess and the pain: congratulations! You have a screaming, pooping, perpetually hungry little bundle of joy. Then they learn to crawl and walk. Say goodbye to everything within the little tyke’s reach. The talking’s not so bad. It’s even cute until it gets to the point where they won’t shut up. This is the point when parents enroll them in schools. Seven hours of peace a day. Bliss right? Wrong. This is when they really start scaring you. And I’ve only gotten to kindergarten.

The next couple of decades, from personal observation, are not going to go easy on your mom. And yet, she loves you. How strange.
It doesn't matter to her that she’s spent more than two decades of her life trying to raise you to be a decent human being. She’ll tell you that she rather liked it. Which might be true on some occasions but mostly I’m sure she would have felt like she was fighting a losing battle against colds, exams, bad choices, rebellion, puberty, the generation gap…you name it.
Put yourself in her shoes. It’s very scary actually. You want a superhero? Take a look at the classy lady serving you breakfast when you’re scowling about being late.

My mom’s birthday is right on mother’s day. And though I don’t generally get too gooey and sentimental about it, I hope she realizes that she’s the best woman I’ve ever known.
My mom rocks.

R.I.P

I’m suddenly very interested in epitaphs. Think about it, what would you want your grave to say? Something about the after life? Something funny? Something which will tell people what kind of life you had led? Or how you died? What you meant to the people in your life?
Here are a few epitaphs I like:


Here lies the body of this world,
Whose soul alas to hell is hurled.
This golden youth long since was past,
Its silver manhood went as fast,
An iron age drew on at last;
'Tis vain its character to tell,
The several fates which it befell,
What year it died, when 'twill arise,
We only know that here it lies

-Epitaph on the World (A poem by Henry David Thoreau)



I am ready to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter. .
-Winston Churchill


Here lies Arthur, the once and future king.
-King Arthur

I told you I was sick!
-In a Georgia cemetery


Effie Jean Robinson
1897-1922
Come blooming youths, as you pass by,
And on these lines do cast an eye.
As you are now, so once was I;
As I am now, so must you be;
Prepare for death and follow me.

(Underneath this someone had added)
To follow you
I am not content
How do I know
Which way you went.


I’m curious, what would you like your epitaph to say? If you know, please comment.

Scream

‘I sound my barbaric YAWP on the roofs of the world’ – Walt Whitman
Have you ever felt like going to your terrace and screaming at the world at the top of your voice? Yeah? So have I.
I think half the tattoos and piercings and fashion statements in the world exist merely to let out the dormant frustration and restlessness of the human soul.

Talking about frustration, is it just me or is it getting harder to interact with people these days? I know the feeling of being a part of a crowd and feeling so alone. With some people my sense of humour has a field day. With others, I can’t crack a joke to save my life. Heck, I can’t even put myself in their shoes anymore. I take one look at the shoes (figuratively) and I realize I don’t want to be in them.
But I also realize that I need to make an effort. Making friends and talking to people, I’m finding out, is not as easy as it was a couple of years back.

By the way, I’m discovering poetry beyond Shel Silverstein. Oh yes, life altering movies. You have got to watch the Dead Poets Society. Great movie, great story. I also put up a wonderful study plan which I’m studiously ignoring.
You know what? I don’t think I’m scared enough about the sem exams yet. Damn it.