Showing posts with label Musings and Stuff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Musings and Stuff. Show all posts

R.I.P.

1 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 11:24:00 PM

A Mother begs. She wants her son's corpse to just open its eyes one more time, so she can whisper to him the goodbye she never got to say.

The sister is dead and the brother cries, she has gone away.
An infant is orphaned, another is carried to safety and his father is tired yet triumphant.

Shrapnel. Bullets, debris. Attack, defend, attack. Men in uniform, bathed in sweat, blood, tears.

And all we can do is hope for the best, and that is the only weapon we have? The other side has Kalashnikovs and hand-grenades. 

The only thing under siege is the fate of humanity.

 

Tagged , , ,

Another Day...More Procrastination

2 comment(s) Posted by Stropko at 11:04:00 AM

Seriously, I think I may have a problem. I have tons of homework to do, yet here I am, writing up a post on blogger. Maybe it's because I feel bad because Sahana's been spamming the site lately, I don't know. What I DO know is that I do not feel like doing homework. Hell, I actually have no clue what I even intend to write about, I just knew I needed to write something, and here I am. This is very stream-of-consiousness-ey. I feel like Virginia Woolf.

Well, I have been succeeding in school as of late. In the same week, I got an A on my APUSH exam, a 9/9 on the Free Response Question that we took the day after that exam, an A on my AP Chemistry Exam--the list goes on. I feel like such a good student, yet I know that it will have to come to an end eventually. But, in the meantime, I'm flying. Perhaps I should go do work in order to maintain this ecstatic feeling. When I'm done with this post. Let's see...I need something substantive to talk about. If I just ramble the whole time I'll end up deleting the post, and wasting more time.

Oh, I know. Here is my official (updates will come when I think of additions) list of things I must do before I die.

-Play Butterflies and Hurricanes with a full band in front of an audience.
-Travel the world. And I mean all over the world. At least 75% of all countries.
-Visit Sahana. Maybe we'll go to a bar.
-Be in some sort of touring rock band.
-Deliver a speech to over 1,000 people.
-Make some sort of positive influence on the world.
-Invent and subsequently patent something.

There, was that such a bad blog post? Shakey start, but I would say I saved it. And it does have a cool Emily Brontë-esque feel to it. But less feminist. And more cheuvenistic. And much, much more awesome.

Oh, and Sahana--

You're welcome. :)

And you listening to Queens of the Stone Age, Steely Dan, Franz Ferdinand, and Snow Patrol is amazing. Seriously. Fantastic tastes.

 

Tagged ,

The Hundredth Millionth Sun

4 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 11:01:00 PM

Two successive Gary posts in a day. Somewhere in the world, something wonderful must be happening. Maybe  HotBody Lightbody is googling his own name and he finally found this blog. Hallelujah, 'tis been a long time coming.


I reviewed the album. You saw that coming, didn't you? I spent an hour on it, and listened to it twice. And even wrote half an essay on Chekhov, so I feel quite empowered right now. I tried not to sound like a know-it-all, but I can't help the comparisons and the references, its not my fault I've heard all their songs. Being a GL stalker is hard work.

One thing is for certain. Snow Patrol has certainly cheered up. 
While Eyes Open was a heart-wrenching word description of the trajectory of a failed relationship, filled with sensitivity (Chasing Cars), frustration (It's Beginning to Get to Me), penitence (Make This Go On Forever), separation (Set the Fire to the Third Bar), desolation, and acceptance (The Finish Line). Eyes Open brought with itself a set of fourteen masterpieces that merged into one to give the world Snow Patrol's best album. It was an album that defined poignancy, and each track stood out as favourite, and the album as a whole made one surrender, made one float, and made one soar. 

A Hundred Million Suns comes two years after Eyes Open, conceived in Germany, and partly in Ireland, in a house that was located on a cliff that overlooked the sea. The band firmly maintains that this is their best album yet, while most fans tend to believe that with AHMS, they've succumbed to the pressures of chartbuster-music, brought on because of Chasing Cars. Their opinion is that SP's best album is still a toss between Final Straw and Eyes Open. That's what the general mass of them thinks. 

And quite obviously, I disagree.
Yes, AHMS is not Eyes Open. It's cheerful, it's happy, and it's reflective, but in an optimistic way. Both albums make you feel nostalgic, but while Eyes Open will make you think of the days when you felt your worst, and of the days that you wanted to curl up and die just at the thought of another day in your dreary existence, AHMS will bring to your mind the colours of an amusement park flashing past your eyes, the smell of buttered popcorn, the feel of your favourite blanket on a cold night, the taste of your favourite food on the day that you feel the sickest. I wouldn't exactly call it upbeat, but it's definitely one of those albums that will make you smile. Eyes Open reopened wounds and made you cry inside, and AHMS is a phantom kiss on your forehead, it is a reassuring hug, it is a wonderful band-aid.
Snow Patrol goes all out in this album, reverting back to their more gutsy songs, reminiscent of Final Straw's Spitting Games and Tiny Little Fractures. Although their lead guitar has definitely mellowed down, and yes, their bass guitar is not that discernable anymore, Snow Patrol has definitely mastered the art of combining all the standard band instruments, mellowing them down to their style, and throwing in a few piano chords in the mix to make it unique. The chorus of each of their songs is more crowd-friendly, with simple background vocal effects that exude the aura of a large stadium without compromising on the homeliness of the band. Snow Patrol has always maintained that they are not one of the bands that will be remembered for on-stage theatrics - their music and their entire persona is based upon their approachability and their easy going attitude. AHMS amplifies this very maxim. 
Eyes Open was an album which when played in the order of listing, started off with the atmosphere-creating "You Are All I Have", became softer with Chasing Cars, reached a crescendo with Make This Go On Forever, employing martial drum beats, church-choruses and the persistent piano, then quietened again with Set the Fire.., and died down with The Finish Line. 
AHMS is not an album that requires you to play in order, but if you do, then each song will make you wish you had heard it before, because the chorus is so infectious, you wish you knew how to sing along. There is the notable introduction of an acoustic guitar which lends a somewhat pleasantly jangly note, making you feel like you were at a live bar listening to them jam. Take Back the City, the first single from the album, is one of those very songs, bordering on an anthem-like sound, an acoustic bass-line and a tune that grows on you. I know someone who hated it at first listen, then went around humming it the rest of the week. It'll catch your attention, and it'll stay there. My favourite track as of now is Crack the Shutters, with a soundscape reminiscent of You Could Be Happy (high, isolating piano tinklings!), but this song is just so uplifting, it's amazing. A first listen will get you hooked, but by the time you read the lyrics, you wish this song had been written for you. Lifeboats is another one that is racing up my most-played list; I think it's because of the pitch - it just sounds a little different, like half-an-octave off the regular. Of course, I might be wrong, but I think that's why. The Golden Floor is slightly off the beaten track for Snow Patrol, with a very interesting beat that piqued my interest. However, the song that got me all curious was Snow Patrol's first 16-minute long song, called The Lightning Strike. The Lightning Strike has three parts, What if this Storm Ends?, The Sunlight Through the Glass, and Daybreak. All three parts are isolated songs on their own, bound by a common thread. While I would think it ambitious of Snow Patrol to infringe upon long songs that are normally the territory for more "hardcore" progressive rock bands, it's a brave try, and while I wouldn't say that the experiment entirely succeeded, it's nice to see that they're constantly try to reinvent and challenge themselves musically. It's not that I don't like it, but I just really don't see the point of having one long song, when clearly, it's just three songs. I'm assuming they know something I don't?

Conclusively, I'd say that AHMS certainly does not deserve the criticism that it has been the receiving end of. Most people who listen to Snow Patrol are those lovers who've only heard Eyes Open, and a few famous old ones, like Run, Spitting Games, and Chocolate. Yes, Eyes Open got them attention, and yes, it made them very, VERY famous, but it's presumptious to claim that the generally radio-friendly nature of AHMS is a desperate, Billboard-hungry claim to fame. No, Snow Patrol is not trying to knock anyone off the charts with this album, but it's rather clear why they say it's their best album ever. It's subtly diverse, with different beats, different styles. 
But before I finish, I do have to lech over Gary Lightbody.
This guy is just unbelievable. I have ABSOLUTELY no words for him. He is just hot. The dishevelled wild look of Chasing Cars, the clean, light-stubbly Chocolate, and then neurotically love-struck in Crack the Shutters, this man makes me melt. And as if his visual appeal wasn't enough, he has an Irish accent, an amazingly English sense of sarcastic, wordplay humour. And he has pretty eyes.
And on top of that, he is about the most sensitive lyricist that I have heard of. He is one of those people who manages to write flattering and wonderful things about a girl, without being even a tiny bit corny, or cheesy or cliched. In When It's All Over, We Still Have to Clear Up, he makes being a stalker sexy with An Olive Grove Facing the Sea. He makes bonfires adventurous with Firelight.
In Songs for Polarbears, he sang Velocity Girl, and we all know what that did to me. In Final Straw, he brought on the apocalypse with Chocolate, became a high-school stalker in Spitting Games, and showed the magic of plain and simple piano with Same and also, the violin in Grazed Knees. And then in Eyes Open, we all forgave him for his mistakes, and we all fell in love, even though the album was penned by Lightbody in the avatar of a repenting philanderer. 
And then in A Hundred Million Suns, he finally pushed me over the edge with Crack the Shutters. 

Thanks a lot, Gary. Because of you, my expectations is the opposite sex are soaring high. They need to be tall, they need to be songwriters, and they need to be friendly.
Bonus points if their name is Gary.
Bnous browniepoints if their surname is Lightbody.


Oh God, I need to get a life.

 

Tagged , , , , , ,

Reviews, Lists, and TAG!

3 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 10:56:00 PM

I just got home from watching 'Dasvidaniya - The Best Goodbye Ever.' It's a beautiful movie, and if you can, then do watch it. It is the story of a man who lives the most unimaginably sedentary life, and how he loves making lists, and how he makes and fulfills his penultimate list of Things to Do Before I Die. How one man is so inspired by death that he resolves to live life, fall in love, fall out of love, make a family, be famous - all in three months... it's a well-scripted movie with a strong plot. The background score is by Kailasa (Kailash Kher's band), and they produce some very rustic and earthy tunes that go wonderfully with the homeliness of the film. I would compare this score with Vedder's score for Into the Wild - it's very simple, it's very acoustic, it's lyrically rich without forced language, and it's got the feel of being very grounded. Vinay Pathak is effortless as the bumbling protagonist, but I loved the woman who played his mother, she was splendid in her scenes. All in all, a well-packaged, tightly scripted gem that I would definitely recommend. Most definitely.


What the film made me think about is my list of Things to Do Before I Die. I am morbidly afraid of death. Not in the way some people are paranoid and are afraid they are being trailed by mad hitmen and assassins; my fear is more of the kind where I worry about what happens when you die. My dad's father died when I was thirteen, and I remember some people crying with all their might, and I remember some people sitting quietly and contemplating. I remember my dad being stonily impassive through all the proceedings (he's never been the openly emotional kind), I remember seeing him glassily stare as they shaved his moustache, and I remember how the family looked for a suitable photograph that we could frame for the wall. I found the picture they finally used, he was smiling in that photograph, but what was he thinking before he died? Did he know, or was he just thinking of what he was going to do that day and then was interrupted by the Grim Reaper? Does he exist somewhere, spiritually maybe, physically he's just another set of ashes set to sail in the Ganga, does he like the picture we picked out, does he worry about where I'm going to go to college, is he even there?
And what happens when you die? What happens to the world you leave behind? Would you miss me, would you think of me when my favourite song came on the radio, would you delete my e-mails, would you visit this blog, would you wonder of what we could have still been had it not been for death? Would you cry, or would you put your grief in a box and grieve in seclusion, would you grieve at all? Will you remember me?

And here's a little more morbidity. My list of Things to Do Before I Die - (no particular order) (will be updated, keep looking.)
1) Publish a Book.
2) Go to a Snow Patrol and a Pearl Jam and a Damien Rice concert.
3) Throw a party for everyone I know and like, and tell them what I truly think of them.
4) Visit Stropko. (Like for real-real, not webcam or otherwise.)
5) Go to Russia. ( In the winter.)

You can do this tag if you want to, I just thought it would be interesting. (I'm tagging Michael in particular, but again, 'tis optional.)

Listening to - 
Disturbia - Rihanna (Surprising, innit? It's not a bad song, and it's rather catchy.)
Tell Me Baby - RHCP 
Viva La Vida - Coldplay
Textbook Love - Fleet Foxes

 

Tagged , ,

Artsy Girl and the Beggar Babies

6 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 7:38:00 PM

I hate the beggar babies outside school. There are two sets of them, one near the BITM bus-stop corner, and the other set lives next to the mosque, close to the place which sells all that junk-food. They're pretty horrible, these children. Every time you buy some street-food and savour it on the way back from School, (before you're forced to share it with the people in the carpool), they'll holler at you while hanging from the metal bits of the bus-stop railing, and they'll turn their eyelids upside down until your entire appetite disappears, and you're forced to relinquish your food to them. Friggin' beggars. I hate the ones at the bus-stop. 

Not as much as I hate the ones around the mosque. This one time, some of us were eating ice-cream outside the gate after one of the papers and a whole bunch of them descended and went, "Ey, Ey, Ey, Ami-o achskrem khabo! (x N, N=ad nauseam.) (Translation: "Ey, Ey, Even I want to eat ice-cream".) Then they circled us and sang that. Then the tiniest one tried to grab the ice-cream. A little while later (after we came out of hiding), we saw that the tiniest one had been abandoned by the rest. Although it looked kind of happy, because it was sitting on the goat that the people from the mosque had tied to the railing. (This was before Bakri-Id.)
So, anyway, I hate the beggar babies outside the School. Very uncouth.

But, this post is not about them. This post is about the only beggar babies I like. Near my house, there is a flower-store run by this oldish lady, and she sells really old and bad flowers, but people still buy flowers from her store for some reason. And near her store, on the pavement, there are these two little children who play and squeal all the time. I just assumed that they were part of the Indian-Suburb scenery. Not that I live the suburbs.(Tollygunge is hardly the suburbs, but still, it's sort of quiet-ish on the street where I live.) 
Then this one morning, I was waiting at the gate for my carpool to arrive, (It's always late.), and then I noticed the two beggar babies (one of them is five, and the other is two), skipping along the street barefoot, going, "Lalalalalalalalalaaaaaa!!". And since they spoke in my language of the Lalala, I grinned at them, and they grinned back. My mum, (who'd been watching from the balcony above all this while, the sneak) later told me their story. It's sort of sad, but it has a happy ending.
The two beggar babies are the grand-daughters of the old lady who sells bad flowers. The flower-lady's son was married to the mother of the beggar-babies, but then he died (well, that's what they presume), and then, their mother ran away and abandoned them. So, their grandmother adopted them (unofficially, duh), and now they live with her. They even go to school because some extremely nice rich guy in the neighbourhood has been financing their pre-school education. On days when they have no school, the two beggar babies (they are both girls), help their grandmother by skipping along to every house in the neighbourhood within walking distance and deliver flowers. I'm assuming the only reason the old lady still has customers is because her little delivery-girls are as cute as hell. They always run barefoot on the street, despite the fact that they both own shoes. They are friends with every stray dog in the locality, and all the dogs do their bit to protect them in the mornings, when the deliver the flowers. There's always a stray dog that accompanies them when they walk along, and every time a vehicle comes by, the dog nudges them to the side. They thank the dog by trying to climb over it, but I really don't think that the dog minds it. I have a feeling it likes it.
The two-year-old tries to even ride bareback on the dog on the return journey, but that is something even the dog won't put up with. 
So that's their story. Two abandoned little girls who are growing up as neighbourhood children. 
Sometimes, all it takes to change the world is a random act of compassion. (I didn't make that up, it's a quote from Evan Almighty.)

Also, in completely unrelated (well, not really) news, I've finally done a little more artwork. I did this on one sheet of paper, but I don't have a scanner, so I had to take a picture of them, which was essentially pretty sub-standard, so I cropped and made them separate images. I know the signature is not very necessary, but I'm like that, so there. 
I was actually trying to draw the beggar babies, but they look nothing like this, but it's still quite good, so I'm going to put it up. You can critique the art, but be nice. I'm not normally this artsy.


Listening to - 
Apocalypse Now - Muse (They amaze me with every song. Except Starlight, which was a piece of bullshit  - Well, it's not that great, Pff.)
Schrei - Tokio Hotel (Stuck in my head. And it's German, and the only part I can sing is "Nein nein nein nein, Schreeeeeeeiiiii!")
Whipping - Pearl Jam (Bloody awesome bass riff.)
Matinee - Franz Ferdinand (It's never complete without a seductive song by FF, now is it?)

 

Tagged , ,

Oolf and the Girl

9 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 11:20:00 PM

Listening to - 
Michael - Franz Ferdinand. (This GAY song keeps getting stuck in my head.) (Oh, and haha.)
In Command of Cars - Snow Patrol. (Very, very moody. Unknown, and awesome.)
Oxford Comma - Vampire Weekend. (I don't know, but it's very hooking. "Why would you lie about something dumb like that?")
Red Morning Light - Kings of Leon. (Just like that.)



Seriously, just because Anushka wanted to marry a wolf when she was four or something does not make her a true wolf addict. In any case, not that I care. However, you should know, that I am, and that I shall always be, the first of the greatly vocal wolf-lovers. 

I'm not going to tell you when and/or why I began loving wolves. Trust me, it's a very embarrassing story that only about two or three people know. The fact is, I fell in love with the amazingly masculine wildness that wolves embody. There is something so mysterious in their eyes, and their eyes have so much depth, so much of that erudite shine. There is that fantastically stately aura about them, that sense of power, that sense of dignity, and yet that slight strain of humility that stops it from becoming arrogance. There is that body, that shape, that streamline of a vicious hunter. The powerful ribcage, the ripple of muscle underneath that fur, the claws that are capable of unleashing utter bestiality. Sharp ears, alert ears. Powerful legs. The walk that borders, yet respectfully refrains from being a swagger. That gait, full of mastery. The turn of the head. The magical silhouette. And the howl that is just so raw, and so rugged, and so haunting.
Wolf is just hot, okay?

Yes. If you will excuse my animalistic lechery, I shall tell you more reasons why I am Oolf Lover Number One - 
I can draw a perfect wolf silhouette in under 10 seconds. It is an art. 
I did a 25 page project on wolves. The Iberian Wolf, to be precise.
I once had an imaginary wolf pet called Cinnamon. This would ordinarily be cute, but it's a little bit scary considering that I was 15 when I said this.
Cinnamon was a Cinnamon Wolf. I may not be original, but I have my facts right.
Besides, I love Wolf. I wanted to call everything Wolf. 
And if you notice, even this blog is slightly wolfish.
I always WOLF my food down. This is off-topic, but still.
I can also Howl like the Wolf.
I am always Hungry like the Wolf. (For food.)

And since I have begun babbling, its time for me to hit Publish. Hahahahaaa!!

 

Tagged , , , ,

Procrastination--Friend of Foe?

1 comment(s) Posted by Stropko at 10:05:00 AM

Well here I am. Another Sunday night. Another load of homework to do. It's times like these that I ask myself, "Why the hell did you do this? You weren't that busy this weekend. You could have knocked out half of this already." But no. Of course not. I must yet again torture myself in the name of homework and procrastination. How much longer can I keep this up? Am I going to be like this when I'm older? Is this something I just grow out of? Gah, I'm much too speculative. And yet, these questions nag me. Sure, I could be like most people and just take my procrastination in stride, taking things day-by-day and living for the moment but no, I must persist in my constant worrying. And to top that off, I need to be reading, not writing blog posts. Oh well.

And on top of that, which college am I going to go to? I'm not even going to get into that. I'm worrying too much, I need to relax. And do AP Chem. Gah, I just realized I have AP Chem.

Yeah, this is starting to feel all rambly and stream-of-conscious-ey, so I'm thinking I should just stop. Yes, that's probably the best idea. Ok, I'll blog post sometime when I'm less introspective. Bye all of you Indian people...

Oh, and what's with the lack of comments? The only comments I've received are from Sahana correcting typos. Thanks for the hearty welcome. Psh.

 

Tagged ,

Licensed, but to what degree?

0 comment(s) Posted by Stropko at 1:25:00 PM

I am an officially licensed driver as of today. While it is extremely exciting (combine that with the fact that I now have my new laptop and you have one fantastic week), it got me thinking as to what it means to have a license. While the implications may not seem like much, I'm beginning to see that I'm not going to be hanging around home any more. It's a bit of a wake up call--while still under the complete jurisdiction of my parents, I will be out of the house soon. I'm becoming more independent, taking on more irresponsibility, and preparing myself for the ominous "real world" you always hear stuffy adults talking about.

And am I ready?

HELL NO.

I still feel like a kid. Yes, I have reaped the benefits that have inevitably come with age, and while I have grown much more intelligent and accumulated an impressive vocabulary, I by no means feel like an adult at heart. I'm not ready to hold down a steady job, or pick a career for that matter (sorry Sahana, I'm still not sure about the whole Cardiologist thing). I see an impasse approaching, but do not know what to do but avert my eyes and shield my face. Where do I want to college. What in the hell am I going to do with my life? I've got unbridled potential but no direction. As of late I've been leaning towards doctor of some sort, but sometimes I think maybe a lawyer would be cool. And then there's the rebellious side of me that wants me to just travel the world and fuck it all. He is in constant battle with the diligent, responsible part of me, who wants me to go to college and get a career. While I think when I get out of college I'm going to travel, I don't want to get tied down to some career I don't like. So much in this life you see people doing boring jobs, and being stuck there because they have a family to support. I want to avoid this, but I don't know what to do. Gah.

What to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to do what to doooooo?

I'm confuzzled.

Oh, and P.S.--Something really annoying is happening. My PreCalculus teacher always likes to make up words that sound like other words (for example, he'll say slob instead of solve, or cluckulate instead of calculate), and it's rather infectious. Combine that with the fact that I have Simple Man by Lynyrd Skynyrd stuck in my head, and I keep getting the line "to be a slimple....kind of man" stuck in my head. Damn Mr. Bakhos.

 

Tagged ,

It's time for a rant-post!

6 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 10:43:00 PM

Listening to - All sorts of Country Music by Shania Twain and Carrie Underwood.

Lot of random blogging to be done, so bear with me here.

The most important thing that happened this week would be that I returned to school. Now, if you can ignore Stropko's loud whoops of extreme joy and victory. One day of school made me more tired than two weeks of holidays. I went to school on Wednesday, and spent most of Thursday morning agonising over strained leg muscles, then I did school on Thursday (I would NEVER miss school on Thursday), then VOICE, then Chem. and then I collapsed. So much so, that I skipped Friday.

We've more or less entered the last term of school. Ever. And Winter terms are always the shortest, so by all standards of sentiment, I should have a countdown up somewhere. People have already started doing that, by the way. Every event that we have is greeted with the shout of "This is our last in school!", followed by some dopes who start bawling their guts out.
It happened on Teacher's Day, when we had that really amazing programme. While the majority of the student body was most fussed about the teachers leaving for lunch so we could feast on the leftover food, some dumbass yelled out this thing about this being "Last Teacher's Day EVER", and that-perfectionist-in-Humanities started crying, although I didn't really notice until after I was done stuffing my face with the cake. 
In any case, my point is, it didn't really matter to me. Somehow, all this talk of leaving, and of farewells doesn't really bother me. It's a little scary to sound so indifferent, especially because I have absolutely NO idea where I'm going for higher studies, or whether I'm passing at all (which would make all farewells futile).  I know it sounds callous. On numerous occassions, Anushka's asked me to stop being such a black-hearted-nutcase and show some feeling. Even over talks of the VOICE farewell. I don't get it. I really don't. Like I keep saying, I'll be happy to get out of here. It's not as if I'm not going to miss school, but quite frankly, 12 years is kind of an okay point to give it a rest. It's been a great 12 years, and I've loved all the three schools I've been in, and I've never regretted any of it, but I want to move forward now. 
Maybe that makes me an "Stone-Queen", like my mum puts it.
Whatever. I'm just choosing to focus on the 'entering a new phase' more than the 'leaving of an old one'. 
I don't even think it makes me emotionless in any way. People who know me well enough know that emotionless is not really my kind of label. I'm more of the throw-yourself-into-it-with-all-you-got-who-cares-what-happens sort of person. I'm just throwing myself into the other side.

At the start of 2008, I decided to keep a diary, because the conformist-sentimentalist in me wanted to record the events of my last year in school. It contains -
Some entries from that brief phase when I dotted my i's with hearts. 
Entries from when I was completely pissed off because I wasn't made a prefect, when some other people were. 
An entry cursing my Hindi teacher (Quote - "I hate you, you killer of English thoughts. I could curse you in a thousand vernaculars, but I'm afraid I'll spell them wrong. I hate you, Hag-ess.")
One page with the words of 'Hey There Delilah', a song that now annoys me.
Lots of scratched out doodles.
And finally, lines in multiple pages saying "I love bio. What would I do without bio? Bio should just marry me." etc. in a similar vein.

I don't know why I would choose to put up this on a blog. The six of you don't really need to read this if you don't want to!

<3,>

P.S. - Shania Twain and Mark McGrath's 'Party for Two' is stuck in my head. It's extremely nondescript, but oddly infectious. Don't listen to it.

On second thought, Do.

If VOICE members are reading this, please campaign for a larger cake. I guarantee we have funds.
Snow Patrol's new album releases in less than seven days. I need to conserve bandwidth for downloads, UNLESS..


 

Tagged , , , ,

Hypocrisy?

1 comment(s) Posted by Stropko at 12:30:00 PM

Before I begin, I just would like to say that I am jealous of the story-telling ability of Sahana. I am not nearly that poetic or eloquent. Anyways...

It's about midnight here in Southern California, and my little brother is just getting around to doing his science project. He needs to find out a way to make an object more four meters without pushing it off...he's using a small tank of CO2. Now, it is extremely hypocritical for me to be telling him to do his homework, as I myself am still working on AP US History. The difference between us, though, is that I am a reasonably responsible student, while he is a slacker. I have mostly good grades, all of which the result of self-motivation, while he is always at the risk of being sent off to boarding school. No joke. If his grades fall below a B- average, he is sent to boarding school. Because of this, I (due to some form of pity for my brother) helped him search for a vehicle to be propelled by the CO2, and have motivated him through the night. Whatever, he'll probably end up in boarding school anyway.

Oh, and in other news, I found an AMAZING website for classical sheet music. www.imslp.org has a ridiculous array of sheet music for all kinds of instruments, and as they're all public domain, they're all free. Hooray!

 

Tagged ,

Not What I Promised

6 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 6:33:00 PM

Yes, yes, I know, and I apologise to all of the four people who read this blog. I haven't been updating for a while. First the holidays started, then my father came to visit and kept snatching the laptop so he could play Freecell *snarl*, and I do have ideas in my head for one of my Alter-Ego posts, but I haven't really formatted it out in my head, so bear with me. All in good time.


This week has been pretty good, seeing as I basically gave up on studying and the mother has been quite alright with it. I had a Lotus Buds Editors Meeting the other day, which was rather fun, except for the fact that the Junior Editors are lazy pain-in-the-asses. I also survived getting hurled to death, because I was supposed to go on the Deshpriya Park ferris wheel with SGpt and Sood the same afternoon, but we were too contented after lunch to walk, so we decided to stay indoors and stalk people on Facebook, which we didn't do, but the thing is, the next morning I read in the papers that the ferris wheel had catapulted three people to their death the evening that we were supposed to go. So, yeah, I thwarted Death.
I also attended the birthday party of a three-year-old. While the child is question is one that I am quite fond of, birthday parties for toddlers aren't exactly the hippest place to be, but to salvage that, there was a ball-pit (!) in the room, and although no one let me in (on account of me being completeyl capable of killing a few children while in the pit), it made for some good daydreaming. And there was Chinese food, which is always a treat.
Oh, and an ant got into my ear that same day. I know it doesn't sound like a big deal, and even if it is, in fact, a big deal, it is ordinarily something that people DON'T post about, but how many of the four people who read this blog have had an insect go into their ear? And FYI, it hurts like bloody murder. Slightly more painful than if you decided to saw your leg off and hopped one-legged around the world on a blood-stained stump of a footless leg. Ants that generally die because of my thumb's wrath finally got their revenge when one of their bravest ventured into my ear, and scrabbled all over my eardrum, causing me to writhe on the floor, having painful spasms. And my parents, (yes, both of them. My dad's visiting, remember?), well, both of them, for a good while, thought that I was being a whiner, and that I was throwing a tantrum because I didn't want to go to the party of the aforementioned Three-Year-Old. I think it was my repetitive cry of "MY EAR! DAMMIT MY EAR IS ON FIRE!!! *silently* FCKFCKFCK!! *loudly* MY EAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRR!!!"
At which point they probably realised, that me yelling about foreign objects in my ear is probably not the strongest argument that I had, and that maybe, just MAYBE, there was something in my ear?
I also went book-shopping today, and bought a wonderful new sketchbook for myself, because the old one that I had finished, besides, the pages were so big that it was becoming very hard to draw things that covered it entirely. The new sketchbook is so pretty that I'm actually a little afraid of drawing in it.  And I went out and bought One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey, and The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More by Roald Dahl. The first out of curiosity, the second because I've been waiting a while to finally buy it. 
On the way to the bookstore, I passed a cinema-hall which was promoting "Hello!", based on Chetan Bhagat's One Night at the Call Centre, or as rabid fans of the book/author say "ON@TTC". And at the store too, there was some shiny version of ON@TTC the book. Shiny book versions are only reserved for those books which are actually good, which essentially makes my blood boil, because Chetan Bhagat, quite frankly, is a SHIT author. His books read like the journal of a half-wit. The vocabulary is uninspiring, so uninspiring that in the course of reading, I am tempted to throw the book at the wall, because reading it is like working at an assembly line. You drag yourself through it because of no real reason, there is no brain activity involved, and each new thing you see is exactly the thing that was before.
My mother (who at least tries to be less opinionated, or maybe she just doesn't argue as vociferously as me) says that his books are meant for people who don't generally read, for people who aren't that naturally interestedin literature, and for people like these, it's an enjoyable read. Fine. Maybe. I'm not classifying his books are BAD literature, because (like this debate topic we once had), there really IS no such thing as bad literature. What I am APPALLED by is the singular fact that although someone as dimwitted as Bhagat pens his books, there are still people who read his drivel. Seriously, I know his writings are directed towards and centered around the common man, but all his three books deal with somewhat fat, loser-like Caricatures who, in the beginning, start off as highly useless and detrimental to general well-being, and then, somehow, normally unavailable Hot Girl becomes friends with them. Caricature will also have stereotypical friends - the Cool Dude (gets all the girls, is rich and is a poster boy for promiscuity and Brylcreem), the Total Loser (who is good at heart, and just like protagonist, only WAY lamer). Then, Caricature will sleep with Hot Girl, and no matter what the situation, things go downhill from here, everyone argues, screws up, cries blah-blah-blah, someone tries to kill themself/kill someone else, or some other life-altering change happens, Hot Girl and Caricature get back together, and the friends return too, and The End.

Once was enough. But if this guy tries to go all Bollywood of the 90s on readers and taints literature by mechanically selling us assembly-line drivel, SOMETHING'S got to give.
And all this, just because I saw a shiny edition of a shit book.

I just know it now. I'm going to become one of those short-haired spinsters with a cat, who lives in a sterile apartment, goes to bookstores to purposefully knock over stacks of crap books, and writes mean Letters to the Editor in the newspaper. I'm going to become one of those bitter old hags (who blogs).
Or, I'll become one of those women with more children than she can count, in a bookstore trying to buy good books while all the children slide across the store's floor - the woman who 'accidentally' knocks over a stack of crap books and blames it on the kid who happens to be running the fastest.

In either case, the thing is, stacks of books by Chetan Bhagat are never safe when I'm in the store. 

 

Tagged , ,

For Some Reason, I Can't Explain It...

3 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 3:54:00 PM

For some reason, I am not studying Biology. The damned "b" key isn't working on my keyboard anymore, except when I jab it with extreme force. 


I feel extremely useless, even more than on regular days. Sometimes, when I feel like this, I go to sleep, but yesterday, I slept for fifteen hours (yes, that long.) and now I feel like Superman. I want to DO something, only I feel rather incapacitated by my laziness. 

I do not want to study Bio. I shall study it later. 

I do not want to watch television. There is nothing interesting. I would like it if they aired an Ugly Betty rerun right about now. I love that show so much.

My mother has gone to some whole-sale cloth selling place. I don't even WANT to comment.

I do not want to call up anyone and talk on the phone. I do not like talking on the phone. It makes me feel very disembodied. And only people who don't know that ever call me up.

There is nothing on Facebook that I haven't already seen.

Even Stropko, the wonderfully-insomniac (Jesus-lovin'-White-Boy), seems to be either asleep, or otherwise incapable of instant-messaging services.  Bah. Even Anushka isn't online. She's probably learning and re-learning her Psycho.

And I have an intense need to bite my fingernails, but I am trying to grow them (my fingernails), and the two needs are toying with my brain.

My Whole World Is Dead, I Tell You.

Agh. I wish the weather would stay like this forever. So comfortably icy. Also, I wish Snow Patrol would just hurry up and release their album. I want some new songs.

And I wish the Pujos would hurry up and come. I can't wait for the dhakis to begin playing, and the food, and the lighting, and the fact that no one really cares about how much you eat, not even your own digestive system.

PS - Because Anushka said so, I'm upping my font size from "smallest" to "small". Pff.

 

Tagged , , ,

Watching a Movie with Mummy

3 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 10:44:00 AM

So basically, me and my mother were watching Rock On! together yesterday, on DVD because we're too cheap-ass and bored to go to a theater, and there is this one line in the film which Purab Kohli, aka K.D., says - "When you're twenty, twenty-two, you think you can rule the world."

So, that made my mum exclaim, "SO true, SO true!"
And then she said - "It's so cute how these boys think they are rockstars."
At which point I was beginning to wonder whether she really understood what the movie was about. So, I said, "But they ARE rockstars."
Mum: "No, they're little boys who play on their instruments and pretend to have a career."
Me: "But being a rockstar is a real job. Like, with money, fame, and you know... stuff."
Mum: *puppy-dog eyes* "You're just seventeen, you wouldn't know."
Me: *obviously miffed with the age-related comment* "Mmpf."
Mum: "When you're 30, you'll know."
Me: *has thought of wonderfully witty comment* "Aww, you still remember what 30 feels like, Mum?
Mum: *is sending out wave upon wave of death threats and curses.. silently*
Me: *sidles away* "HAVE YOU NOTICED THIS BAND DOESN'T HAVE A BASS GUITARIST?"
Mum: *squints at television* "But they HAVE two guitars, na?"
Me: "Yes, but Joe is lead, and Aditya is a vocalist, and he's not bass, because he's not playing continuously."
Mum: "Which one is Joe?"
Me: "The one with the long hair."
Mum: *squints again* "They ALL have long hair."
Me: "The one who's playing a guitar, and has long hair."
Mum: "Oh. His hair is awfully floaty, you think they filmed the movie with a spot boy lugging a blower fan under him whenever Joe was on screen?"
Me: *is dumbfounded* *shudders slightly* "I don't know."


And so, now you know why I'm so dastardly random sometimes. 
I do believe it's a little bit genetic.

 

Tagged ,

"You Don't Have To Smile if You Don't Want To"

3 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 10:59:00 AM

It was five in the morning, and I woke up cursing, because awakening a thirteen-year-old at the crack of dawn is tantamount to felony, and I promised myself, that once this was over, I would curl right back into the covers. I sniffled and wiped my nose on my sleeve because no one cares about hygiene at five in the morning. No one cares about anything at five in the morning. And I shuffled downstairs to the parking lot, in oversize slippers that slapped against the dusty concrete, raising puffs of mud, leaving a trail of bigfoot-esque footprints. The dirt made me sneeze, I was allergic to dirt, it was five in the morning, I should have been sleeping, but I was at a dusty, allergy-causing parking lot, squinting against the annoyingly bright sky and the birds that sounded so rested. Rested, unlike me, and I sniffed again, and I realised that I loved my sleep a little too much, maybe? And the guard got out of that car which I didn't recognize, and I leaned against our own bug-like one. You bought it before my birthday. It was supposed to arrive on my birthday, but the delivery men screwed it up, and it came two days later, but the car, in my head at least, shared birthdays with me. But I didn't recognise this car. It was pearl-grey, it was shinier, and it was newer, and more expensive than ours. You told me it was a Baleno. I didn't care. I liked our car, our bug-car better. It had more scope for imagination. It looked like a bug. This car didn't seem friendly. Our car was home. That car was not. And it had a stranger at the wheel. A man in a white-suit and a white hat, and the starched stiffness of his clothes hurt my eyes and so I looked away. Behind me, a voice told me to say goodbye nicely ("You're not going to see him again for two months, the least  you could do is smile and say goodbye, you know he'd like that. Stop being such a crybaby and wave goodbye to him") and in front of me, there you were, hugging me ("You don't have to smile if you don't want to") saying you'd visit in two months ("It's just sixty days, and just when you begin enjoying life without me, I'll be back to annoy you with Math again")  and it would be great fun ("We can talk on the phone whenever we want, we can talk everyday, and when you visit, we can go to the beach!"), we'd go to the amusement park ("Wouldn't that be nice? Did I not love the amusement park?") and you'd buy me something ("I'm going to buy a new car when I get there, what should I get? A Baleno like this one? Isn't this Baleno nice-looking?"), and that I should do well at school because that's what matters ("Practise your math, and 9 times 3 is 27, not 24. Never mess that up like you used to when you were six"), and before I could reply, I sneezed again, the car door shut, and the pearl-grey hostile car drove out, and I knew it wasn't friendly, because it never let me say goodbye. ("Vroom")


And I snifflingly trudged back through the dust, the slippers hitting my heels, slapping the floor, raising more dust, making me sneeze more. Maybe it wasn't the dust, after all, that made me cry. 

 

Tagged ,

"She sits alone with her silent song"

4 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 11:09:00 AM

The Grandparents are leaving tonight. Which is a good thing, for me, atleast. I know, yes, that I sound very callous, and yes, I do believe that there is some form of love for them at the bottom of dark, black shrivelled up heart. But still, they're leaving tonight, and that makes me happy. Call me evil if you will, but I'm still pretty happy about it.

It's not that I don't like THEM, I just don't like the fact that while they're here, there's always someone around in the house. I'm not a people-person. I don't like phone calls, and I don't like unnecessary talking, I don't like small talk with people I barely know. I actually derive a sort of composed pleasure from coming home to an empty house. I like the power of having to open that front door with a key and walk in with no one to smile at and no one to ask about my day, or how my test went, am I hungry, do I want to eat or take a shower first? I don't like concern, and I find my relaxation in the sterile glow of the television as it blares on and on, and I eat my cold food in front of it, with my socks still on, and the bag thrown across the floor.
I don't like having people around all the time, I think absence does make the heart grow fonder. And I WOULD be, definitely more tolerant towards people if they let me live in a bubble. Which is why, despite all her (glaring) flaws, I do not actually mind living with my mother. She lives in her bubble, and I live in mine, and we're both quite non-invasive (most of the time). I like solitude. I like the sound of silence, and I like when no one is around. It does not make me goth. Or emo. Because I am not depressed, neither do I want to kill myself. I just like non-invasiveness.
In other news, I've been listening to a lot of Damien Rice lately. The man, if I do say so myself, is the baap of Gary Lightbody. His music is gut-wrenchingly heart-rending, and its primarily because his songs are stark and stripped down, using just the basic piano, strings and simple drums. And then, there's Lisa Hannigan, who's haunting echoes in the background make the soung even more dreamscape-ish. His music is slow, and it's raw, and controlled enough so that each song stops short of a masterpiece, making you want to listen to the next one. And if you can get past the highly-publicised "The Blower's Daughter", have a go, plunge into "Accidental Babies", and "Unplayed Piano". You might even like it.

There are six year olds playing cricket downstairs. It's almost noon, but they're still in their pajamas, and they haven't brushed their teeth. And even they're still a bunch of stinky, immature children, I think I envy them.

 

Tagged , , ,

Puchka-Men and Physics Procrastinators

7 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 12:37:00 PM

I wish I was my iPod. On some days, when I plug it in to the laptop to synchronise, all of its own accord, it just self-destructs and mulishly refuses to respond to anything. I wish I could mulishly sit around and be stubborn. With reason. Because I do it for NO reason many times over. 

I woke up this morning, completely optimistic about the fact that I was going to study Physics, and study it well, and that I would finish all of Section A today.
Bollocks. Here I am, and I've done nothing, except text Disha several times, whining about Electromagnetics, and then I came online. Stupid Physics.
I'm going to have to go back, eventually.
Last evening, blessed evening, we visited the great Ramesh Pandit. Ramesh Pandit is the world's most awesome puchka-man. I am aware that the title of Most Amazing Puchka-Man is a very disputed one, and there exist several Puchka-men who claim to have been bestowed with this title, but Ramesh Pandit is the best of all of them. His whole lineage is into the business of puchkas, and therefore, he's not just the best Puchka-man. He's the pioneer of the Best Puchka Dynasty. Let's the guy next to Harshita's Math tuition counter THAT! 
Anyway, Ramesh Pandit's aloo dum is the finest. It makes your eyes water and your tongue cry out in protest, and yet you will be compelled to eat another one and feel completely psychedelic. This psychedelic feeling is actually just you walking around, and everything is blurry only because your eyes are watering. But still, the whole effect is rather trippy. The ice-cream man next to Ramesh Pandit keeps eyeing all the trippy people hopefully, hoping against hope that one of the trippers will succumb to the spice and buy an ice-cream to alleviate the pain. Never going to happen, that. Only snotty -nosed kids too wimpy to eat at Ramesh Pandit's buy the ice-cream. 
I didn't eat any dinner yesterday. 
Now you know why. Even though you probably didn't give a damn in the first place.

P.S. - If you don't know what a Puchka is (this means YOU), then googling it will not help. If you do know what a puchka is, give me a call, and we'll go to Ramesh Pandit's place. 
P.P.S. - Ramesh Pandit's stall is at Lake Kalibari, at the edge of the road, opposite that building called Ashoka. 

 

Tagged , , ,

Gossip Monger

9 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 10:00:00 PM

Sarah Palin in a bikini. 

Sarah Palin's daughter is knocked up.
Sarah Palin is knocked up.
Sarah Palin's daughter's baby daddy is a self-professed "effin' redneck" who doesn't want kids.
Sarah Palin's husband is half-Eskimo.
Sarah Palin is using tax money for personal travel.

How come there's no suchlike shit on Joe Biden?

Not to be partial or anything. My political views are all over the place, although according to one site I'm conservative or thingummy. Anyway, my point is - why is there no scoop on Joe Biden? Why are the guys on Obama's side getting some sort of immunity? And how come every stand-up comedy act includes (1)John McCain being a crazy old coot (2)Sarah Palin, Bristol Palin or Levi Johnston or all three, (3)Cindy McCain's plastic face?
There's no mockery of the Democrats anymore. I mean, Hillary Clinton was around adn people poked fun at her, but now SHE'S off the scene. All the rockers and all the actors and all the actresses wear the T-Shirt for Change, and everyone is pimping Obama. Not that I mind the man, but it's just very odd, from an outsider and neutral passer-by's perspective, that a political candidate is more or less morphing into a celebrity of a different kind, and no one seems to have the gumption to stand up and criticize him, his inexperience, and his prophetic yet seemingly planless mantras for a Changed Future?Why? Are they afraid that the criticism might make them racist? It's absolutely okay to call an old guy old to get the laughs, but now what?
I don't support McCain.
My problem is, that I don't support Obama either.

I'm just a lame-ass kid with a laptop.

 

Tagged , ,

Happy Families

3 comment(s) Posted by VelocityGirl (tm) at 11:27:00 PM

Stealing just a teeny bit from Anushka's blog, I shall, I shall! 

My Happy Family Consists of - 
Eddie Vedder as my father. If I promise not to go all Electra on him, can I have him as my daddy, er, father, please?

Marcia Cross, only as Bree Mason-VandeKamp-Hodge, from Desperate Housewives, as my Mother.
 She's deliciously neurotic, fantastically interestic, and just the right amount of fastidious to meet my needs. It would also be pretty damn interesting, seeing Crazy-Perfectionist Bree with Grunge-Dude Eddie Vedder. I'd be a tormented kid, but I sure would love my home.

Jack Sparrow as my elder brother. Yes, I have a poster of him on my wall. Yes, he is hot. I'd like a hot elder brother. Even my friends would like my hot elder brother, Jack Sparrow, Captain Jack Sparrow. Bree would probably not let him into the house, but I'd willingly sneak the rum out for him. What are siblings for? And when he's not off sailing the high seas, he could teach me how to swordfight. Pretty darn bad-ass, if I do say so myself.

Gary Lightbody as that-friend-who's-your-best-friend-but-I'm-not-really-sure-if-I'd-date-him-but-if-I-did-we'd-be-perfect. Yeah, that guy. And he can write songs, talk in a sexy Irish accent, hang out,ride our bikes to the sunny isles of the Hebrides and take his shirt off or whatever, I'd love him. Welcome to the fold, Gary!
P.S - If you're reading this, I <3>
 LOVE YOU. If you're not, I still love you, but a little part of me is sad. No, really.
Audrey Hepburn as the foxy aunt. Every fake family has a foxy aunt. Audrey would be mine. And I'd steal all her clothes, and enlarge them, and then wear them, and make sure she never died of Appendix cancer. And I'm quite sure Bree would like Audrey as a sister. They could be all 50's together. And I could have their clothes.

George Orwell as my grandfather. I'd think him to be odd when I was a kid, but then, as I would grow older, he'd be one hell of a guy to practise my debating and speaking skills with. Great conversation, and great man too. Not the typical grandfather. But then, this family is pretty screwed up anyway. I'm just addin' to the fray.
  I'd also want a kid brother called Philip.Or Phoenix. Ooh, Phoenix it is. I don't care what he looks like, but he shall be called Phoenix. Phoenix is the sort of name that sounds just right. All I need to do now is figure out what he'd look like. I have a feeling he'd act somewhat like William Brown from the William Series by Richmal Crompton. I'd be his awesome elder sister. And he'd be my nutty kid brother. <3

There are a couple of 'real' people to be added to this list, but I'm not going to.
Maybe some other time.

 

Tagged , ,

Subscribe to: Posts (Atom)