Long Loves the iliterate

'Hold me tight'-The Beatles

I'm listening to love songs
This year I'm way past that anti valentine spirit. The bitterness escapes. The sighs evaporate.

'I want to hold you'-Staind

He showed me the way to this blank page and painted it.
First orange, then red, then purple.

'Halloween on Christmas?'-Blink 182

I miss you, I really do. I miss being on that edge of myself, speaking my mind on that lovesick lullaby of a moment.
I still gave a soft mushy corner for all those blushful crushes.
But there is a line I recognise between long lasting attraction and fleeting moment of weakness.

I smile at my own maturity, walking beside the one I know so well, throwing him away. There are just a handful of people I'm possessive of and it's slightly surprising to realize he's one of them. I let go of the sand I gripped so tight.

February stars a new interest.
I jerk it off like sand shackled in a shell.

Love traps.
Hate frees.

And I don't know why this is what we believe.

Someone once told me "It takes a lot of strength to fall. To fall in love. To hit your knees on that hard wet ground and say 'I do, would you?' It takes a strong person to fall in love. The weak ones don't trust their hearts."
Coming from a teens mouth, from one hutch puppy to another, this seemed like a pretty regular statement. But 3 years later, it floats back to my selective memory system.

'And they're swimming around a concrete girl'

It sounds like an oxymoron to call myself strong. It feels so wrong when I control that tear.

'And we're standing on top of our hopes and fears.'

Conquered girl? A broken world around her embarrassed by her weak knees.

Now she needs not that protection from all wrong.

"I'm afraid I'm too fearless for a warrior. I'd scare him away with my own little fortress of will power." A princess who didn't start out as a lady in distress...Now that's a story untold!

I took my love down to Violet Hill,
There she sat in the snow.
All this while she was silent still.
If you love me, won't you let me know
Those three words are said too much, they're not enough.

I'd like to play lyrical coda until I reach a believable connection/conclusion.
Here's something I said to myself one morning and it pretty much sums up my current playlist.

How numb can you get?

To be illiterate
Of the art of love.

I confess to myself and to the little world that reads me that I am today unsure, uncertain yet eager. I am a clean slate. Never looking back in anger, fear or regret. Not ready to be worn out by cynics. Not available, caving in to the needs of many to please none of my own.
But here. Just me. Stripped of song, crying out in near desperation for something I always knew I had never properly understood. And when I do, I'll be fit to die.
While I'm here, living one breathe at a time, will anyone care to get the best of me?

Happy People

'Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory' This is what my new orkut fortune says today. Fortunately, I quote better sources. Check out www.anilpinto.blogspot.com www.overheardinfep.blogspot.com www.thequintessential-shar.blogspot.com I would add to that list. But privacy is a must have for some and the muddle learns from it's mistakes. I still don't believe in Blog rolls. It takes away the attention from MY blog! Yeah, call me a glory hogger!

In a Fit of White Paint

Rage drives the world mad. Laziness is the new Mother of Invention. Mottos that said ‘Service is Pride’ yesterday read ‘Proud to Serve’ today.

The day before my World Literature Exam was a sort of rock-bumping madness. I realize at 12am that I am textbookless. The couldn’t-care-less-ness of last semesters bunking has made me quite immune to things like this. So indifferent am I to the calamity of having nothing to study, I refuse to read the mailed notes! Instead to occupy wasted time, I feed friends jokes about Rhinos and Ponytails.

Exam fear is a 9th STD phenomenon that hit my 20 year old ‘mature’ mind at 2:02am. Rushing to Pinto’s blog, I click up the 6 page long essay by that Russian guy with an unpronounceably impossible name. I thank my lucky stars for the English Teacher of the 21st century! Then of course, ADD of my ZAP86 generation kicks in. Scrolling to a movie review, I engross my two-minute mind with a Danny Boyle kickback. Ah! Peacefulness! But spotting Juvenile Journalist is not quite enough for this brain. Driven by creativity, I stretch out to a black mug I had planned to paint up for a friend. Dabs of white paint later, I scratch out the words I’d like to express thanking this dear old Mickey Mouse of a man.

Parnika turns over

'Our name is my virtue'-Jason Mraz

It's time to live up to my name
Literally, be a new leaf!
I bite off a Phoenix ever so often! I admit I love this flexibility of character. You've got to be ready for a great deal of renovation in this room.
And if you can't keep up then you may crash on your one way motor way Cos I've stopped chasing Pavements...ooo...I just love that video...nice use of shadows :)
Anyway, the point is, I don't like living muddled anymore...it gets so numb after a point.
Messy, muffled me seems like a byproduct instead of the real thing
So I drop the MM
I write by PM
And Private you shall be!

Turning over a new leaf

I want to feel worth it tonight
I got kicked out for treating a classroom like a canteen.
The teacher wears backless blouses with money falling out...still blaming me?

Respect is something you learn.
Leaders are born!
I stopped believing in those cliches a long time ago.
But somewhere along the way, the idea man caught my attention.
He asked me questions I couldn't answer.
He answered questions with hands in his deep empty pockets, making me smile at his music as I lay down in blueness.
And I loved the feeling of being a dropout brat!
I loved the feeling of having talked to a duck!
I loved the way I'm dedicated to Sherlock Holmes instead of James Bond.
And it's these kind of Guest lectures which I start admiring.
It's these blank faced geeks I start worshiping.

I throw Mint ice cream on the talky walkies that told me I'm not worthwhile unless I can advertise a broke bank in a 30 sec SFX limit!
I throw tomatoes at the softies. I bang my job hunting phone down on the colour that tells me I know nothing bout the music biz.
I am arrogantly selfish when I say 'I need a reference letter. But I don't need a report card!'

Marks matter to the ppl who say life has only sour grapes to offer. That was a 10th STD debate!
I won't listen any more! I love the cheering squad I've made in college. But I prefer that challenge which an obstacle rat race offers.

So, yeah, I will turn down that manager who judges me by my marks. I will show off my co- curricular-award-filled-pink file which bulges outta proportion. Hopefully, I will still get a job, a voters ID and earn enough to visit Vancouver in the fall!
Pray for me!

Only the artless die.

Sometimes I have this compulsive desire to clean. Sometimes I want to cuddle up on a messy bed. Sometimes I don’t think I have a choice. Swaying from OCD to the nuisance my mom believes I am, I’ve lost that little part of me which says I can be human.

It is this lost touch with a real world which grew inside of me. Sometimes, I need my home to break down in. Sometimes I need to submit that assignment late just to prove I can fail without breaking.

It’s always the red marks that caught me and trusted me to be better next time. It’s always the green ones that approved mistakes and even encouraged them. The strip told me I’m not the only one who leaps over a null report card and hides the evidence till the garbage is taken out.

Spaceplans make me made. I refuse to dream big for a person I don’t even know. And I thought you knew what was best for me until all you did was hurt the spirit that told me I’m fine the way I am.

Everybody looked down at me thinking it’s all in my mind. Everybody razed the side skin on my stomach to prove fringes look better on thieves. Some didn’t want to understand the puns. Some tried too hard. All disgusted me.

The killers don’t condone suicide. Neither does the bulimic. So what does a gutless teen choose over the rainbow. If there was more to find than a pot of gold?

Another chapter in Star World

There’s nothing worse than seeing a grown man cry. I saw it in ‘The pursuit of happyness’. I saw it in ‘Ta rapa pum pum’ (or whatever it is that shitty Saif movie is called). I saw it in every sappy Valentine movie the remote was willing to surf to.

“It’s much easier to pretend.” she said. And she’s right, for once. It’s harder to live the genuine life. It’s difficult to be sincere when faith is unanimously divided.

He’s just sad. He’s just sad his mom died. They call him mad. But he’s just sad. And tonight I like the pretender. Tonight I like the boy who holds back those tears cos he doesn’t want the world to believe in his misery. Tonight I love the fakeness of a gun to my head. Tonight I won’t arrest that free spirited liar!

And as I whiten all the blackheaded stones in my garden, I’d like to commend all those who shed tears as eye medicine. I’d like to say I know what I’m doing.

“The anger that she feels can only come from love.” And that thin line called hate shifts and breaks like a kitestring that trapped an eagle. I will, metaphorically at least, decide why I have not cigared on the terrace. And on the other side of that line, my witness awaits. That imaginary friend who says, “I’ll come over”. I’ll bridge that river between love and hate, peace and war, death and suicide, narcolepsy and insomnia, PR and advertising. All the split personalities in my brain reach their grey best as BL closes and Psyche opens.

http://www.kiltshop.com/History.htm


yeah I can hyperlink! I just dont wanna!!
I can costume party the whole world from my closet!!
I can write a song without a tune
I can identify the songs in the background of all these silly soaps
why should this sound like smt on facebook?

I can visit bohemian's blog without reading his creed
I can comment on the uncommented
I can create graffitti msgs on sauce filled plates
I can..I must publish this post!!
Despite:
(shar refuses to remain anonymous despite blacked out bits of fascinating convo)

Parnika: ur back and still no blogpost!!

hmmmph!!!!

Sharanya: lol

haven't even started

babysitting is happening

Parnika: thu-ing on u!!

doubt-do scottish ppl wear french type hats

Sharanya: lol..

Parnika: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Bagpipe_performer.jpg

this type

i've assigned costume designing to meself

Sharanya: to answer your question..they wear beret like hats

like the indian army

pushed down on one side and typically flat

Parnika: cos ppl seem to think checking things are the only unique piece o clothing in scotland

Sharanya: hehhe

Parnika: how do i make them?

plaid is not = scot!!!

Sharanya: say it real loud

that works sometimes

Parnika: aha..tomo watch me scream in class

louder than the trouborns born there!!

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/214/465896510_e6fcd9afbc.jpg?v=0

this is nice and easy

Sharanya: lol

Parnika: he he...im driving myself mad :)

Sharanya: yayee!

Parnika: ooooooooo

http://www.celebrationspartyshop.co.uk/images/WebBits/kilthire.jpg

im turned on by just the aaa!

head!! gimme a head!!!

http://www.kiltshop.com/Attire/breacan.jpg

and then that disappoints

maybe i'll hyperlink this convo to my blog

:)