BY THE WAY

Just for the record,  there have been a few changes in the decided tattoo and the made tattoo.

It says "miles to go before i sleep"

And instead of the star, it's a little peace symbol.

That'd be all :)

Survival.

I got inked today :)

I still maintain that the most negative aspect of getting a permanent tattoo is, ironically, it's permanence. One can't hate or love anything or anyone forever. 'Forever' is intimidating.

Anyway,
Tattoo-making hurts like hell, yes.
But it makes you realize how pain is serene.

Like they say, "pain is temporary, pride is forever"

I don't know about the 'pride' bit yet, but the pain is going away.
The pain from today and that day.

Still gives me the chill though.
But I'll live :)

I do not PMS

I just have this weird feeling of wanting to type in Italics. Italics is underrated, isn't it? It makes the world so pretty. Oh! And cursive handwriting in italics. Bliss.


I've always had a thing for good handwriting. It is such a turn on. Would you rather have someone with good handwriting tell you that he likes you simply or 

Let us, for the purposes of amusement, keep aside the sheer cheesiness of what is written. But the handwriting? How can anyone assume that they would ever be taken seriously if what they wanted to put across was written in that handwriting. Anyway, you know what I am fearing the most right now? 

That the guy who wrote this was to ever read my blog. He isn't too much of a reader, though. And we're 'almost friends' so it could also be a joke. 

Only, it's not.

Oh! Just for the record, it is not by a guy who has just hit puberty. A grown male of about 20years of existence behind him is the creator of this. 

Yes. I don't think it's funny either.

Anyway, my tattoo thing is happening, by all means, by the 20th of this month. I see how my policy, as it were, of 'let's get this over with' has managed to get me a looong looong way since the time of my first breath. I might be dead by then though, you know? Because of anticipating the pain.

Oh. And I was told yesterday that I PMS.  I do not!

I, most definitely, do not.

I almost took offence.

Also, my period for this month is OvUrrrrrrrrrr. I usually do not celebrate the event. But this time it was particularly bad and painful. SO ya.

Speaking of  OvUrrrrrrrrrr, my University Exams finish tomorrow. Needless to say, I am not prepared. In my defense, being a literature student makes me, by default, look down upon the likes of History and Sociology (my credit courses). For someone who did not particularly sweat it over the main papers, it would be a shame if I were to pay any attention to the subsidiary papers. So after the damn paper, we're going to celebrate at this super dingy 'rest-o-bar' place near where I stay. I am soo excited. It is our new 'discovery', as it were. 

Dingy, cheap booze, great food! It is a broke's paradise for a day out, if you ask me. If only they had a smoking zone. Sigh.

The day a girl can smoke on the streets of Delhi without everyone (not only looking but dropping their work and) staring at her, I would know the society has evolved; resolving prejudices. Plus it would make me really really happy. The other night, I made Jaya hold a lit cigarette in his hand while I smoked the one in mine, just to reduce the volumes of the staring as we smoked at night in a shady park. It only struck me later that 'girl-smoking-with-a-guy-at-night' doesn't exactly add up to 'ideal' either.

I am down with a cold too. This might be a problem because I see my drinking plans, in the shady place tomorrow, stand slightly sabotaged, if the condition persists. Being born to doctor parents, your health is least priority, contrary to popular belief. Hence, I am popping some pills that catch my eye. 

Medically Prescriptive? Unsure.

But I don't think it's fun any other way.

I am guessing this post has gone way ahead as compared to the word limit of my other posts. Hence, I shall conclude saying that after exams I am cooking a lot and drinking a lot.

Also, shopping till I am dropping.. almost!

That's the plan.

P.S- Sometimes I think 'spooning' is overrated. Yet, sometimes it's not. Mostly it is, though.

Okay. Bye.

And miles to go before I sleep

"Happy New Year!"- A bit harsh, don't you think?

How can anyone possibly hope/wish that the coming 365 days of anyone's life be "happy". Sure it's going to have the "happy" but also the 'sad' with so much more. Let's just say, "Survive The Year", shall we?

Yes! I seem to be at my cynical best and an absolute joy to be around!

No! The 'slap' hasn't stopped haunting me just yet.

Yes! I have come with ways of getting over it.

No! They don't seem to be making much sense to anyone but me.

I genuinely believe that a haircut will make me happy! I don't understand how no one else gets it!

Coco Chanel once said, "A woman who cuts her hair is about to change her life". It's not like the quote is the reason for the decision but it totally goes on to justify it. It's comforting and consoling. More so, when the hand that hit you really hard liked to play with the ends of the hair every now and then. I am getting them really short. If I get up before noon tomorrow, then tomorrow morning.

Next, I am getting a tattoo. Probably next month. Forearm or Ankle?

I have never really been a 'tattoo person', per se, but this is something I need to do. It's disgusting to live with the knowledge that the maximum physical pain I have ever felt is courtesy a non entity. Hence, the tattoo. I am getting high and going for it the next time I have enough cash.

It's going to be a star(or two) and with that, I want inscribed, "miles to go". 

The almost two decades of my existence have seen growing evidence of my fascination with the stars. It may sound really bookish but I want star(s) on my body because it's going to be like my little piece of sky, however small. I love stars. They shine, are far off, move, tell tales, pretty, the works!

The "miles to go" is part of the famous quote "And miles to go before I sleep..". It's an excerpt from "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" by Robert Frost. I remember reading this and "The Road Not Taken" (by the same poet) back in the fifth grade, for the first time. Over the years I have read them over and over and no piece of poetry has garnered as much appreciation, attention and love from me. They make perfect sense. Even with the growing years and changing perspectives, they always make perfect sense.

There was an entire phase with "The Brook" by Alfred Tennyson and what has stayed with me still is the part that goes "for men may come and men may go, but I go on forever". This was a serious consideration with respect to having it on my body. However, couldn't overlook the dripping sexual connotations to it and also what it might look like to anyone who isn't aware of the poem.

So ya. That's that.

New Year's Eve was a hell of a crazy night, like always! Alcohol and high heels do not go! I woke up with the growing knowledge of a lot of body parts to whose existence I was oblivious, until they started hurting like fuck, the next morning. My Internal Exams start from the 4th of this month and I am as prepared to take them as I was the first day of the session. I don't know why I must bother about them, anyway! I see doomsday ahead.

The year gone by had it's share of good and mad.

It's 2011 now;

New Year,

New Beginnings,

Surviving...

Same Old Shit!

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I want to mention JAYA in this post 

• because he is awesome and I love him
• "I know (s)he's kind of socially retarded and weird, but (s)he's my friend...so, just promise me you wont make fun of him(her)!" - Mean Girls
• because he think he looks very cool in his newly grown beard.. which he does.. *coughs*
• because I think he needs to know that I have been trying to paint a kickass t-shirt for him since his birthday and have ruined two perfectly normal plain t-shirts, in the process.
• because he must take me around in his car more often
• because I must try and study now

P.S- My profile picture of the blog is a picture clicked by him and I am using it without permission. But I will cook for him and that will make him very very happy, yes? yes.

He hit me today.

Mistakes are not experiences; they're failures.

I have failed.

I took a very long bath. Bathed less, cried more.

I made something up to tell Ma. 

I contemplated cutting my hair really short; it's hard to face self in the mirror; face the failure.
I think I will get a tattoo to outdo the 'pain', per se.

My friends tell me they'll fuck his happiness;

somehow that makes nothing better. It's all so hollow.

I don't need to be told he's a bastard.

I don't need to be told it's okay and I shouldn't waste any tears on him.

I don't need to offered a new perspective.

Not even for a second. It's almost like I want to be hit again to let it all out.

To do it right this time.

To get back at him.

One last dance with Mary Jane. One more time to kill the pain. 

Only, I don't think I will be able to kill it. That't the saddest part.

No. That's not the saddest part.

The saddest part is that it's going to stay forever;
not the swelling, not the pain;

the memory.