#InOtherNews

In other news, I have a Twitter Account now which I absolutely don't know how to work. Any help regarding it would be appreciated. Especially, if someone could tell me the objective of the damn venture.

As cocky as it sounds, follow me :)
Even if it is only to tell me, what the fuck is up on it.
#Clueless.

^Seee! Im learning.

Takes My Heart Awayyyyy...

The truth in every single word!
Enjoy!
:)

Blog Whore.

That's the thing about Facebook...
When you have it in your life, your blog doesn't read of your 'lack of life'.
When you have it in your life, you have something to do for infinite hours each time you switch on your laptop.
When you have it in your life, you don't become a blog whore.

I'm scared I'd be blogging every hour of my life if the same persists. At least on the days I'm home.
Like today.

It's Such Great February Weather...

So it just struck me...

That maybe I should trick an old man into marrying me.
A rich old man.
And then live with him in his mansion till he dies.
And even after that, continue to live there. Without him.

So it just struck me...

That all of us would drift apart in our respective worlds eventually.
And even though we talk of marriage as a catastrophe now,
most of us would end up giving in to familial/societal pressures.
And not with old men with infertile dicks and huge apartments.
But with nice men... who'd get us. Our dreams and aspirations.
And would laugh with us.
And would satisfy us in bed. But not think about sex all the fucking time.
And would  know how to articulate in impeccable English.
The kind of men Tee and I talk about all the time!
Maybe they don't exist.
And then, for some strange reason, Goa came to my mind.

So it just struck me...

That all men hit on you in Goa. Even cab drivers or men from Philippines.
That was someee night. Makes me laugh even now.
But I can't live in Goa. You know? Sustained living. But it's my favourite getaway.
Drink at any point of the day without being judged.
Chill with the girls under the stars laughing till your insides hurt.
Celebrate your freedom in every sense of the word.

Where else is the air this much fun? It takes you in.
Each day is like the big blue sky there. Yup. The day is like the sky.
Infinite. Sublime.
There's the burning sea water. And it melts you.
It melts you and your ever so profound teen spirit everyone seems to talk about!
And you're always in a mood.
To do something.

Anything you're not supposed to.

It just struck me...

Delhi is getting monotonous.
So is growing up, if you ask me.
If it wasn't for such great February weather...

!@#$%^&*

It's almost midnight and I sit in a very very dirty room wearing, what I call 'the first signs of winters ending', borrowed boxers and t-shirt. It's also a reminder of a long overdue leg-waxing appointment. But that's another story.

I write this not to make a point but to kill time. When you are five days into having deactivated your Facebook account, you realize that Facebook takes away a lot of your time, yes. However, the bigger realization is that you probably didn't need as much time in the first place. Especially, if you're like me. 

Ive never really been into Superheroes, per se. But they have this kind of novelty, you know? So it's always great to think that you're like some Superhero too; at least at some points in your life. And then life happens and reality strikes and you realize that you're no Superhero; just plain old Garfield.

And I'm Garfield.

And hence I don't need all this time off Facebook. I just want to eat and sleep.

And drink and smoke and dance and have sex.

But Garfield sex, you know?

I just have one problem with Facebook - The stalker-hood it is! I go out, I sneeze, I come back home and log in- there's a picture of me sneezing on my profile! Ugh. It was consuming my entire life! And telling me I know way too many people or have one dress too less or repetitive makeup or Bah! I don't know. It's frustrating. And over 2500 pictures of you tagged by other people just does it.

So ya. I'm off. 

Not for good, though. It's just a little break.

It's like an ex flame you can't ever get rid of for too long. Im just saying.

I can't believe how much I've typed already. And most of it doesn't even make sense. Like, it makes sense to me because I've written it. Completely original ideas. Wow! I think I got this smart dating. I think you should date people wayyyyyy out of your league. Preferably older. And then let them teach you a thing or two. And then you break up. Because they're out of your league, remember? But not a messy break up. Then you move on. Don't worry about dying along. Because, believe it or not, you are never fucking alone! EVER. Even when you might want to be.
I think I write better on my laptop than on paper. Haha. Imagine! This is my better. I'm no writer. I thought I was a while ago. But then I realized I write just like I talk. And then sometimes I write giving away more than what I may have desired. That's not really a sign of a great writer, now is it?

See! All this time at hand! So much to do! But I would much rather Garfield around and blog about absolutely nothing!

Speaking of blogging about absolutely nothing, my blog turned two on the 13th of this month. Haha. Two years of my unpremeditated blabber about 'sex, parties, alcohol and friends'. 

"Girls your age talk about love and feelings"

"I talk about love. I love sex, parties, alcohol and my friends!!"

And of course I couldn't care less. And I forgot all about it until yesterday. Because I know I'm not a writer no more. The bigger question, however, is that if I ever was?

Now I'm bored and I'm out of smokes.
I miss my brother.

Goodnight.

...

It's that feeling you can't describe. No matter how much you try to.

You'd always be the one that got away.
Who kept all my miseries at bay.
The above statement is easily a lie now.
Cause miserable you made me and how.
But stuff like that doesn't stay with you, you know?
And what a tragedy that is.

I remember only the happy, I do.
And yes, sometimes now and then, I even miss you.
But I don't think I love you no more.
And no, it's not like my heart is still sore.
But was that not, after all, love?
And what a tragedy that is.

Back when I was young and you were stupid.
When we were awe struck by the magic of cupid.
We didn't realize how magic isn't real.
Ah well.. that's never been a big deal.
But isn't the best time still just us?
And what a tragedy that is.

I've always wanted to get a tattoo of someone's face.
Maybe I should get you? Or us? Us behind that dingy staircase?
Bah. I'm just typing out shit now that apparently rhymes.
Times. Crimes. Dimes. Chimes.
But you and I will end eventually, wont we?
And what a tragedy that is.

We did it everywhere we could have.
We never did anything we should have.
Now we only meet in your car or at parties and dance the night away.
You still are all magic with the most perfect things to say.
But we are probably over for good after last night, don't you think?
And what a tragedy that is.

It's that feeling you can't describe. No matter how much you try to.

Ring. Red Nails. Rum. Dancing. You. <3

Laughing and Liking.

For someone who is apparently 'incapable of emotion', I am feeling way too many things at the moment. And they're running all through the damn body. Perhaps even through the heart.

It's pumping.

Anyway, love is too strong a word an emotion. So strong that I can't/don't feel it enough, apparently. But that's when 'liking' is rather purposeful. It's simpler, for starters. Maybe even slightly innocent. Not that love is not innocent.

Oh no wait. It's not.

But here's the thing about liking someone. When do you go from 'i like him' to 'i like him-like him'? It's different, right? There should be rules for stuff like this. I always thought so. And the transition is ever so sneaky and fragile that there are times when you yourself aren't quite sure of having crossed over the delicate threshold. So there are the usual butterflies in your stomach. But then one fine day, your heart starts pounding. In your mouth. 

But the butterflies is 'liking' enough. 

No?

Does it make the liking less serious or more futile in anyway? Well, it shouldn't.

You still 'like him'. Just probably don't 'like him like him'

It's like laughing at a joke. A joke that's not that funny. You know? The little tiny jokes that make you laugh. Which are more smart than funny.

The jokes that make you 'laugh'; not 'laugh laugh'.

Laughing is good.

And then before you know it, you're laughing with wayyyyyy too many people.

Way Fuckin' Too Many.
All At Once.