Hollow Musings by Nobody.

It's around 8pm, usually, that I feel like running away. Running away from people, things, places and feelings. Something about that particular time zone that makes me like that, I guess. But it's not each day.
Yesterday I didn't.
Today I did.
Maybe I should start jogging for a bit.


'Why don't you talk to your dad?'
I have been asked that a lot. In more occasions than one; in more tones than one. Sometimes it's hard to keep up the pretence of being calm. Sadly, it isn't the not talking to him that kills but the fact that the reason for the silence is unknown. I'm sure it wasn't an overnight thing, only because these things can't happen overnight. Someday I shall find out. I'm not sure if i want to though.
Someday I shall hug him too. Also, my brother. Maybe.


I am not a really a 'sleeper'. Hence, for the longest time, my incentive to sleep was that I might get to dream a little dream. Even though there are one million and one 'scientific' interpretations of dreams and their patterns and theirs occurrences, I have always been a believer of the fact that you create when you dream. A different world, filled with familiar people and places. It's like a power, not every one is capable of. Creation is an underrated virtue However, I found myself losing this power, of late. I had been falling into the sack sleeping dreamlessly for nights together. Until three nights back, when I had a dream. Finally.
It was completely unrelated and contained many loose ends. But the fact that I had dreamt of pretty people and pretty things and pretty places and pretty situations in techno colour, sepia and black and white made it worthwhile. It's recreational, This creating.
I like people who dare to dream. If only there were more of them now. sigh.


He-man is back in town. :) :) :) :) :) :) :)
The only boy on the face of the planet who has never, not even temporarily, gone off my 'People I love' list. From being two strangers who ended up talking through the middle of the night till wee hours of the early morning the first time they spoke to being at a place where we are today, it's all been so unbelievably smooth.
Here's to our secrets, life plans, meetings, hideouts, respective better halves, laughter, tears, break up, phone calls, coffee and the years that have witnessed it all and so much more. He makes me happy. All the time. I love you. Always have, always will :')


Here's the thing about irritating things; the more you fight them the more they get onto you. Yes. It has happened. After months of judging people who were sick courtesy the 'Beiber Fever', it has happened. I cannot get that girl of a man's voice out of my head, crooning 'BABBY BABBY BABBY OHHHH...'
Guilty as charged, I am truly ashamed!


Also, Eminem is back :D And my heart beats for him just as much as it did back int he 6th grade. He's a lyrical genius, has always been. I have received a lot of flack for this particular crush, yes; but he's the first man who ever dared me to get a little perception. I remember how, back in the day, my friend and I felt like 'little bad girls' when we would learn up his songs like the back of our hands. How we refused to call him 'Eminem'  and let our loyalties be with 'Marshall Mathers'. All this, while we made wedding cards of our marriage in Missouri, designed with hearts that had an arrow sticking through it.  Ah. Good times.
He is a poet. I'm standing by that. None can do.


This post is an uninspired piece of garbage, yes.
Unrelated musings put together. But that's how much my mind has gone over in the past 12minutes of writing this.
Also, here's the deal about having a personal space in the cyberspace, you can get away with throwing garbage...

Halfway Through.

I have come to the realisation that some things in life are probably always going to suck just as much as they always have. There is not getting away from them. Ever. "Point Blank".



Of late, our household has become just a bunch of fights. I don't know when or how it started but now it just is like that. It is unbelievable, the amount of noise the only three members of a 'family' are capable of producing. I am scared to imagine life, had there been more of us. The irony of the whole thing being, that we hardly stay in the house, for most times. My parent's don't see each other all day, courtesy work; I come back  late in the evening; sometimes, don't come back, at all. STILL, somehow we manage to scream at each other all the fucking time- on texts, on calls and it is, indeed, a fight ring when in person. All of this sucks, really. I don't understand how parents think that they shouldn't get a divorce 'for the sake of the children'. Just how exactly is their constant bickering together helping ze 'children'. Anyway. I think we are halfway through. Halfway through making whatever little home we had into a house.
Also, considering how we are such merry people together, I have called off the 'movie date' with the man i am supposed to call father. I just didn't see it working out.
I am Halfway Through, though. I am halfway through telling him how he's going to be stood up tonight. Maybe I'll text.



"They say there's linings made of silver...folded inside each raining cloud..." :)
 I love rains though. I can just sit still, with a smoke in my hand and look at it pour till the end of time. Something about it gives warmth to my heart. Secures me. The other day, my friends and I were stuck in the rain. All roads were blocked. The traffic was as bad as a runny nose, dry cough and your monthly period, all at once. I was, however, given a lift almost halfway to my house. Between getting off the car and convincing a  rude auto chap to take me to my place, one of my slippers decided to break up with me for the sake of swimming in the huge ass road for a puddle created by the pours. I, very embarrassingly, almost ran after it till a point and then finally decided to give up. I saw it from afar as it went dancing from under old trucks to posh cars and paved it's way through what seemed like the stairway to heaven. The fact that those slippers were one of my favourites, didn't help at that time. So I limped till my auto, got in and placed my bare foot on the 'clothed' one and reached home. Amidst all the traffic, collected water, road rage, abuses, paan spits, sewage water splashes, crazy hair, washed out kajal and wet cloth bag, this crazy yet simple smile never left my face. I just kept looking around, smiling like a fool thinking about things that made me happy. What saddened me was that I failed to think about so many things that made me happy earlier. It was hard for me think about things out of the ordinary to put on my 'Happy List'.

I am Halfway Through, though. I am halfway through re-writing that list in my head. Shall complete soon. Amen.

Sometimes it's disheartening to find out things about yourself. Like right now, I don't think i possess any original and fun insights on love, life, rainbows or even pantyhose!

I need scrupulously material things to constantly define myself. 

I don't laugh like mad, every time i want to, in the middle of a street. 

I don't dare to wear converse with my feminine dresses, just because I felt like it. 

I don't just strike a pose and feel like a rockstar every time I'm low. 

I don't call up my school friends, barring one, as often anymore. 

I don't think I can be more than one things when i grow up to work, anymore.

Hell, I don't even watch as much Tv, anymore.

I need to buy expensive shoes with imitations of branded bags  after a pedicure session to feel good about my existence. Gone are the days when Coffee seemed special. I have started taking most things for granted now. 

Anyway, I bought these real cool wayfarers and basic pink frames. Both for new glasses. Yes materialism continue to ruin my life.

Also, I look into the camera a lot. However, of late, I've taken a slight liking for more 'natural' clicks. Hence,

I think I'm Halfway Through, though. I am halfway through stopping being so much of a poser.

oooo. I hear rain now. Going to embrace it in all it's abundance.

I dread the day I don't get this excited about it. I don't think I'm ever going to get over it, though. I want to be Halfway Through.I want to be halfway through getting over the thought of getting over the rains.

Also, I have fallen in love with Patrick Swayze [RIP, you :( ]. Dirty Dancing never gets old. Ever. I cannot say anything more now. Might wet myself. 

err.. I'm Halfway Through.

The Thong and other Things.

So i am not exactly good with 'girl-things'. Okay. That didn't come out right.

I don't think there's any better way to say it but here's the deal- I freak out buying sanitary napkins and lingerie. I can't do it. I don't know why. Condom buying has always been so much easier than I-pill buying. I dread the days when friends decides to send me to buy napkins and I-pills by hiding under the garb of it being an emergency. Anyway, after living, what i would like to believe is, a quarter of my entire life, if there's one thing i know for sure it is that the maximum all the embarrassment one faces in life is courtesy ones friends and family. 

BLAST FROM THE PAST.

I remember the first time i ever bought the Dracula pack (read: sanitary napkin) was when i was in the eleventh grade. Funny story (as always)...friend1 decides to lose her 'flower' (F.R.I.E.N.D.S reference; read: virginity) to friend2 in friend2's house, which ,by the nasty humour of the universe, happens to be in MY neighbourhood. Here I am, oblivious to what my own friends are about to do to me, bunking my Accountancy tuition and making merry. And then  my cell phone flashes *friend2 calling*.

Me: friiiieeeennndddddddd2 :) :) what's up?

Him: Ya. Hi. err.. so we sort of did it today. And she's bleeding a lot now. errr.. i don't know what to do... you need to come over and give her one of the napkin things!!!

Me: YOU HAD SEX??? awwwwwwww. but i'm not home. i can't get it.

Him: BUY ONE!!

Me: what? you mad? i can't!

Him: DOOOOOOD !!! she NEEDS it!

Me: fuck you friend2! bleh. i'll see what i can do... asshole pervert bastard!

Him: ya ya. Come quick.

So much for friends making life easier for one another. So i go over to the chemist and use the softest pitch known to mankind and tell him to give me one. He, like a dog, senses my fear and almost as if to take my case presents me with this volley of options. How i want to tell him to shove so many things up so many places in his own body. Anyway. I finally make the damn decision, get it in a black bag and take it over to his place. Turns out, the 'bleeding' is the indicative blood drops of..errr.. 'the flower being taken'. 

Yes. I almost slapped her too. More so, when she told me 'maybe you can take it back! I don't use this brand'.

Moral of the story : People who know nothing about sex, must not have it!!!

Never bought another one since. Evidently so.

TODAY.

I had to buy a thong for a Best Friend. Before my sexual orientation is questioned, it is in a Practical Joke sort of way and not 'come be my kink fest' way. Though I am bisexual... No. I am not :( :( But i want to be. The coolest people i know are Bisexual. I just find girl-on-girl creepy. Ah. Now that's another story.

Back to the thong.

Given my phobia of buying lingerie ( I think it has a lot to do with the first time my mother noticed my 'developments' and took me bra shopping and I was supposed to wear it and then show it to her and she told me if it's the right fit and other technicalities. This drill repeated the next few times I needed one too. Yes, Any child can be scarred by this!), buying a thong was really not my idea of a great afternoon shopping spree, post lunch. Yet, the losers you call your best friends must make you do things you loathe, consciously and otherwise. So after lots of pretending-to-buy-something-else faces, I gathered enough courage to pick out this leopard printed slut of a thong for her. It is the mother of slutty undergarment. Just touching it gave me little shivers. I then asked the next obvious question 'What? It's supposed to be one size for all?'. To this, you would expect a normal verbal reply, wouldn't you? I did too. Only, she thought a demo will get her a hug from me, maybe. How else would you explain her choice of stretching that tiny piece of cloth to it's maximum glory only to show me that it can fit anything from a 28-32inch waist. Disturbing? I think so. I decided to make the purchase. No. It had nothing to do with the sales woman's unethical tactics.

Now she better like it, my friend. And it better fit.. Not that I'll ever see *throws up a little, at the thought*.

OTHER THINGS.

My mom's husband and I don't really talk. At least, we haven't for as long as I can remember. Our relationship? A little twisted; a little strained. It's not that big a deal, really because you don't miss the things you never had, right?

Anyway, today His Highness decided to tell me how he doesn't know what is up with me and how he should and he tries to be a better father than he is and a lot of related things that didn't seem to make too much sense to me. Conclusion being, we are going to, as a rule, indulge in lots of pseudo intellectual activities on the lines of appreciating the Arts- the only likely common ground for the both of us, right now. 

For me, it's not so much about getting to know my sperm donor better. It's not about it at all, actually. I am, however, looking forward to embodying the whole culture of cool kurta clad, English speaking Indian women who carry a spiral bound notebook in their hands that wear metal bangles and roam around displaying ever so much enthusiasm in heir Kajal lined eyes about the culture and heritage of India and the world. This, with so much excitement about the one million and one great plays and movies i am going to watch; so what if it's with what my mum chose to marry. It will be fun. And the cherry on the cake of this entire 'bonding exercise' is that it will be followed by compulsive culinary experiences. Bliss.

Date #1. This Sunday, it is. Movie. 'Divine Intervention'. Looking forward to it. :)
Hence, summing up 'The Thong and other Things'.

P.S- I have fallen in love with 'Fool in the Rain'- Led Zeppelin all over again

<3

Confessional.

Confessions.
There are over fifty thousand and one things that one might have to say about fifty thousand and one things and people. But does one dare all the time? No. Does one care all the time? Maybe.
There are these weird feelings in the heart...stomach, actually that sort of strangely try and breathe down your conscience. I, for one, am always escaping from taking responsibility for my actions, emotions and words. Ah. All the words. Most, anyway.

It sucks that very little can be done about the things i do, consciously and otherwise, that later annoy the fuck out of me for being so completely out of place. For being so completely not thought through.
No. I am no deceiver or fraud. I don't commit murders and lie about them. In fact, I hardly ever lie. Really. What, however, i truly seek, is the power and ability of Acceptance. This isn't so much about accepting other people with their abundance of flaws and perfections; this is more about having enough courage to take the call of acceptance of self and feel. Feel things that i don't want.. Feel the power of  the words that i choose to ignore.. Feel the beauty of things i am too stuck up to acknowledge.. Feel the feelings i am too scared to feel.. Feel the wallop and implications of the mistakes i make but disregard..

Not too long ago, i was as 'dreamer' as dreamer gets. I was a believer. I still am, i think. But earlier it wasn't so much hope as it was faith. I know that many people treat 'hope' and 'faith' as synonyms to each other. I don't. There isn't any extra terrestrial explanation for it but i have always been slightly more  inclined towards Faith than i have been towards Hope. I think because while Hope is more about trusting predestination, Faith is believing. There is nothing more noble than keeping faith.. rather, the ability to keep faith. Faith in things, in people; the ones you love and those you don't.
I might be losing that now. I find myself not wanting so many things that i wanted, only a while back. I don't dream anymore. I hardly remember them, if at all i do. My self ingrained dream catcher, too,  seems futile now. I hardly dance and sing for no reason. I have quit dressing up for myself.
People might say am growing up. I just feel i am growing old.

None of this comes even close to the 'confessions' i have in my mind. The major confession being that i am too weak to confess. Truth scares me. Intimidates me. Though not a liar, I haven't shied away from not saying anything at all, more often than not.


Till happier and more content times....

Sex and the Witty.

So the entire oath of writing more often is still almost on.
And am proud of it, evidently so.

random memory # 763.

It was April end last year, that i met a boy. He was my friend T's brother. Incidentally, i had been crushing on T for sometime now. But as the twisted tale of fate would have it, it was T's brother i ended up with that summer. So after the usual drill of lying to the world to meet up alone, talking on the phone right through the middle of the night, laughing at each other's jokes like you've never heard anything funnier...yada yada.. we started 'going out'. I have always found the term funny somehow, but now that's another story.

So a 'physical relationship' we did not really have. He just kept sucking my face till the end of time and i just sat there waiting for the 'suck face festival' to get over. Post each of our meetings, it would take me some hours of conversations with my friends forever to figure out that why was the relationship was all tongue and no ...errr.. THAT. Amongst my people, there were those you told me to feel lucky that it wasn't just about the sex. But, here i was, spending sleepless nights wondering why it wasn't about it at all?
So, Summer of '09, it was.


Cut to New Years Eve a few years ago.

It was very very cold.
We were very very drunk.
We looked very very hot.
We were very much in love. Really. We were.

It was that time when we couldn't keep our hands off each other. When the whole idea of PDA didn't seem too weird. When we felt butterflies in our stomaches just airbrushing our elbows against each other. When we were in love.
So it was that new years eve when we decided to go all the way. It was hard to, first, cause well, it was the first time. Eventually, between all the giggles, tears, hugs and kisses, we did it. And we did it rather well, if i may say so myself.. :P Back then, it was not sex. It was love. Love, as we knew it.
We did it a lot after that. Working parents can do wonders to your relationships. But again, it wasn't sex. Not once. It was love, each time it was. Sometimes my eye would shed a tear or two while my lips smiled.. and pain had nothing to do with it.
I miss you. Sometimes. NO, actually, i dont think i do. But what we had will always be special.



Cut to a few days back.

Met a guy..a man. Working,  polished,  can talk well, smokes, dances... and a few other qualities. I think he's the closest i can think of being 'my type'.. that is by assumption that i have a type. Anyway, so we met. Clicked. Hung out a lot. And a few days back, we did it. Just like that. Smoked after. Ya. It's unreal how little or no importance is ever attached to smoking after sex. It is equally good, if not better. Getting back, so here we were, two naked individuals who like each other enough to let each other inside themselves..okay. That, only in a lot more beautiful way. So i wore what was put off me and headed back home. Like it was nothing. What pricked me was that the idea of casual sex had stopped pricking me. Before him, i have felt bad and sometimes cried too about the 'casualness'.
When did my tear-inducing love making turn into sex+smoke, i would never know. sigh!

According to Greek philosopher, Plato, love can be classified as under 'Eros' and 'agape'.
Eros is the love animals are capable of. Strictly of the physical kind. There isn't an interplay or interference of any emotion, other than lust, maybe. But, sex isn't casual. It holds importance. Otherwise, it isn't really sex. it is just animal instinct.
Agape is the love of the highest kind. That is because it is the love which connects people intellectually and spiritually. Wherein, wits of two individuals match.

What is sad is not that there is classification of love; but that, i don't seem to figure in either. Clearly, what i am having isn't sex and my wits happen to match with a lot of people, thank you very much.

So, as twisted as this is, life, as we know it, has come down to Sex and the Witty... or the lack of it.