It's dark and black again.
It feels mine again.
I am connected again.
Also, relieved.


Stark experiments don't seem to be my forte.


Love.
:)

Yawning Mornings

There comes a point in each individual's life when he's faced with the reality of being a loser. My point has arrived. No, seriously! What is up with my generation of the world who suddenly knows it all in terms of what they want in life? And here I am, part of the very same generation, as clueless as clueless gets. College gets over in another year and then what? Exactly. No Idea.

The fact that I'm suffering from a very very very bad cold right now isn't particularly helping things.

So I don't know jack shit about any of my current books, I have no cool internship on my CV, no real job experience to boast about and no motivation for any of this. For the most part of my life, I have pictured myself very rich. Filthy rich, is more like it. But now, by the look of things, I would be fortunate if I am able to get together a meal a day without complete failure. Yes, things are that scattered. I am barely twenty years old and to feel/think like this isn't my favourite activity to do.

Speaking of activities, I'm getting back (started) to.. *drum-roll*... writing my book. Yes, it's happened! Yes, I would like more attention/ drama surrounding the announcement. But who am I kidding? It's just a damn blog that no one reads and knowing me, I'm going to get over the idea of writing ze book sooner than I start it. Yes, I have attention issues, like that. So no one cares, which is good. 'Expectations' is just as scary a word as 'Forever'. My point being, that more than who-does-what and who-gets-what, the alarming concern should be that who-wants-what because let's face it there are so many of us and all of us want the exact same thing and that's just so mother fucking depressing! Obviously it is that who is not excellent who is going to lose ground the soonest. Being average is a bitch!

Cell phones and Facebook are annoying me . It makes me want to throw up a little in my mouth when I look back only to see these to as being one of the major reasons for my existence.

Ooo.. So you have love-hate-sex relationship, you have spent hours dressing up just right for him but also pretending like you put on the first thing you saw, you have avoided him, 'apparently' bumped into him. wrote about him, sneaked out with him, partied with him... and so much more. So fucking much more! You know just as much as he does that you are not exclusive anymore. 

But is it completely unreasonable for you to think it's weird when he comes and cries over his 'girlfriend' to you and expects a shoulder to cry on couched in beautiful sounding advice?

I don't know. I think it's weird.

Also, Im serious about being an alcoholic. 

Because I got high.

That awkward moment when you are convinced that if pricked, rum is going to flow out instead of blood.

Yes, I spend way too much time on Facebook.

The week that was has had it's share of 'moments'; good, bad, public and some not so. The points of revelation were :

• Being Home-alone is EPIC and totally manageable. Makes you responsible.
• I am an alcoholic. For sure.
• I don't take well to emptiness/loneliness on drunk nights.
• Crying is relieving. 
• Ross and I are going to die trying outdo each other.

So spent some nights home, did some unmentionables amongst others; spent some nights out, did just as much amount of unmentionables and then Mum got back. I think I missed her a little bit too. It's only when you don't have something staring at you in your face do you realize its importance.

Yes I am as uninspired to write as uninspired gets. Lots on my mind, I guess. So without further attempts of stringing some vague words into apparent sentences, I leave you with- 

Happy Drinking. I miss my Old Monk(s).

Soon...

Inanimate.

The paths, why walk them?
The beings, why meet them?
Changed direction, dissimilar inclination
Doesn't halt, does not sojourn.
Why walk? Why meet?
Why keep going on?

The vagabond, the tramp
Galavants about
Carries all the sickness of life
Wins some, loses some
loses more, wins more
Happiness pricking like a knife


Every crossroad;
A new face, a new story told
Every crossroad; 
A new melancholy also sold
The impatient.
The insecure.


Chaos, Uncertainty and a Hurricane of a way
Silence, Muteness on a Path sans any say
The wife.
The whore.
The impatient.
The insecure.


The name; comes and goes in waves
Reaches the shore, ends up a knave
The misadventure.
The failure.
The wife.
The whore.
The impatient.
The insecure...

Saint Valentine, Here We Love.

Growing up, Valentines Day was a big deal. Blame it on my all-girls schooling, if you will; but nothing was more gratifying than holding a tacky looking teddy (who in turn held an equally tacky heart!) in one hand while the other hand skillfully maintained a balance between the flowers and the chocolates, that some guy bought to express his undying love for you. Things are different now and fortunately so. I am an appreciator of 'growing out of things'. Maybe not so much appreciator, but definitely a practicer of it. Back in the day, it really was nothing short of a pageant;  a pageant that each girl had to win. When I say 'each', I include the especially lame yours truly too.

Man, I miss school.

The day was spent with my best friend (who also happens to be one of the only-two-readers-of-the-blog-who-know-me). Shopped for some kickass stuff from Forever 21, ate and drank at Hard Rock Cafe and spoke about everything from ants, to birds, to bees, to her, to him(s), to me, to .... you get the drift, right?
Oh! And the food.
The food that we couldn't finish; the food that made us realize that the phrase 'yummy-in-my-tummy' should be taken so much more seriously. It was heavenly, to say the least.
After buying some rather expensive memorabilia from Hard Rock, I felt a stage of almost complete content. I realize it more and more everyday that, whoever said money can't buy happiness, didn't know where to shop.

I can't even begin to explain the feeling I get when I spend some serious money on the things I want more than I need. It's relieving when you walk out of the store with shopping bags in your hands, feeling like a Goddess! Maybe I am exaggerating more than my due, but I truly genuinely believe that 'when I shop, the world gets better.' I am a big bag of warm fuzzy feeling today.
Yes, the feeling is courtesy my extremely (seemingly) materialistic endevours and my best friend :)
No, there's nothing wrong with getting more than a little excited about it.

So now with my new Forever 21 (party) clothes, there's only one thing I need (apart from shoes and some more clothes and a bag), and that is a kickass party to go to.

Till then...

Day 08 - Short term goals for this month and why?

-Serious house-partying.
I might be turning into an alcoholic.

Why?
-Going to be home-alone for a bit.

That'd be all, I guess.
I hate planning.

Been Around For A While Now

Would you believe, it's been a year since this?? Happy Birthday Blog :)

I have never lasted this long in anything, really. No endeavour, no project, no guy, no shoes, no clothes... nothing! Yes, there have been moments of highs and lows, consistency and the lack of it; but all in all, I have made it this far. I think I deserve more than some credit.

I don't think I write the same way I did only a year back. I don't think I write about the same things anymore. Sometimes I think it's because of the lack of misery in my life. Or is it the sheer indifference towards it? Malice, maybe? I don't know. Whatever it is, it's not important. I have 'invested' a year of my life, almost consistently, on something I am not even getting paid for; not yet, anyway! I hardly ever read and re-read my writings. It pains me too much to realize that what I write, really, isn't worth two hoots. Regardless, as cliche as it may sound, it is therapeutic in more ways than one. It's a cyberspace version of 'comfort food', as it were.

Of all the things, I like the anonymity bit the best.
I like that this blog is 'almost' nameless and faceless. I like the fact that most of the people who know me are not aware of it's existence. The extremely few who are, don't read it; except for the two. Hence, it's my space alone. Isn't it pretty cool how I have an archived life on the internet, you know?

Of  love, hate, pain, parties, travel, sex, food, laughter, tears, money, college, friends, this, that and some more; the blog seems to have witnessed it all over the past year. Here's hoping I keep at it.

I remember how starting out, I was convinced that no one ever read my blog or will ever do. I was okay with that, really. I just didn't see how anyone would ever find me. It was 'comfort food', remember? Mine alone. And then 'followers' happened. Comments had happened. I got a bit of freelance work. I felt acknowledged.

It's a special feeling when the world decides to acknowledge the average.

If the blog gets older, maybe I should do a 'Best Of Orange Plum' posts?
Maybe I should stop fantasizing about lame things?

Me and Machines.

I don't intend to be offensive here but I am one of those who swear by the stereotypical bracket that women and technology do not gel as well as the female-kind might believe it to. Of course, I am ready to entertain any exceptions as and when they arise.

Okay, chuck all of that! The blog is about me and the only person who's going to be written about is me. (Yeah! Right!)

So saying that 'I am technically challenged' would be an understatement. I don't get it, this technology. It has taken me a hell lot of crap to master Facebook and check my mails when necessary on my very basic laptop. More than that, I am blank! No phones, no ipods, no laptops, no cars, no gadgets; they never excite me, never have. I haven't grown up with unrealistic fascination with the PS3 and hot-wheels back in the day were really the extent of 'gadgets' I have ever understood. Truth be told, I don't get them. I have never wanted to.

When most (read: all!) people you know take 'driving lessons' post their tenth grade Board Exams, you wake up to the rude realization that you're about five years too late. As usual, I am going to attach more than necessary amounts of exaggeration to my next 'quest'.
Yes, yours truly is learning to drive. I think the little information that I don't even know how to ride a cycle should be stated here. Nevertheless, I took my first driving class EVERRRRRRR yesterday and I would have to admit, it didn't go half as bad as I had thought it in my head. Well, that's also because they teach you in 'special' cars which give the teacher the same controls as you, minus the accelerator. So really, I don't think there was too much 'driving' involved from my side anyway. Also, yesterday he told me about the steering wheel and the accelerator only.

Today, brake.

The teacher was a lot more appreciative of my jokes today. I like talking to people. I do. I should probably get into PR or something. In my, what you may call, small talk, I totally asked him if girls were more stupid when it came to driving and other related questions.
He answered in the negative.

I am still going to take my time into making up my mind about the same. It's going to happen only after I learn to drive; which is going to be a while...

Tomorrow, clutch.

Learning... the hard way!

Lately, I am finding out way too many things about myself bit by bit. I have to admit I am not a fan of this development.

I never think about Ross anymore. NEVER.

Except for when I need a pick-me-up.

A little flirting after a tiring day, a little sex pre an exam I am not prepared for, a little mush talk during my period, a little hug when I have a fever.... just that!

He does not pass my mind at all. I have become the epitome of detachment; even for him.

It's unbelievable.

It makes you think how time changes things and people. Change is a funny thing. You never quite know how and when it's happening until one day you look at yourself and wonder how you got here. I am doing some serious looking-at-myself on and off.

Discoveries may not always be pleasant.

The 'getting over', as it were, doesn't make me a bad person I know. It has been a hundred years (to say the least!). 

But the selfish use? That can't be adding brownie points to my karma chart?

But then, what is?

Good Night. 

A Revelation

I like screaming.
I gained awareness of the fact only a few hours ago. Talk about lack of self-knowledge!

I always saw myself as being someone away from violence of any kind. Too scared, really. I hardly lose temper and in the rare occasions I do, I make a joke out of it or switch off for a bit. No dramatic monologues for me. Okay, some dramatic monologues for me; but only in the confines of my private space. Even in the most brutal of confrontations, I have managed to be that girl who very calmly conducts herself with appropriate amounts of meanness and gets her way. As guilty as I may be, I have also resorted to crying sans any(much) noise. The joy of screaming has been very ignored by me, until today.

I felt so light and powerful. This, when I didn't even scream for something important. I wonder how relieving it's going to be when I scream for a real reason. It's underrated and definitely leaves with a sense of empowerment. Anyway, after a pissed off day and dealing with some seriously 'in-need-of-IQ' people, I found solace in the world wide web.Facebook notified me about a certain somebody's post on my wall. It was a post titled 'orange plum, this is for you'. It's then I realized all over again that if there's anything more endearing that screaming, it's a nice gesture when you least expect it.

I like to call her my blog admirer to flatter myself. But more importantly, she is this tiny and extremely engaging little person who I love talking to. I am not big on adding random people on Facebook and/or interacting with (whatever little of) my blog readers outside the realms of blog-space, but I don't know what fateful day it was that I made a little exception and entered her in.
I like her energy and her OCD'd self; it helps me get away from my issues.
She helps me get away from my issues.
And the Universe knows, I have serious issues.

She told me I have an attention span of a 7year old, once. Just how is someone who is at least 83950kms away from supposed to know that? :O

So here's to you Isha Maniar and I would like to end by promising you that I do not intend to scream at you ever; however much  may want to.
Oh! Also, now you better smile so much more than you should!

P.S- For those who might have a PHD in missing the point, 83950 is a hypothetical figure and may be part of a very special phone number.
Mine :P