Mislaid tracks

Empty impending silences.
Long pauses.
Blank spaces.
White paper.
Mislaid tracks.

A pen in my hand.
I write the story,
Of the path ahead.
I lose the parchment.
Where am I going?

Monicaaaa, oh my darling!

Goddess of Nonsense. She loves you. No reaaally.
Why else would she be writing this post one day before her board exams?
It seems weirdly incomplete to go write this paper without blogging before hand.
I need you guys to wish me all the love and luck, yea?
And I'll will send each one of you homemade brownies.
With a personalized heart shaped thank you letter.
And, no! None of you will die after you consume them.

Anyway, speaking of the exams, I'm surprisingly calm about them.
Jumpy calm.
The sort that makes me want to sing, 'Monicaaaaaaa, my darling' in the middle of my paper.
I swear, when I was writing my prelim paper, every time an answer I knew well would be asked, my head would automatically start playing this song.
Now, I'm just hoping my paper is *filled* with Monica moments.

When I found out what my centre is, I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
I'm going back to my junior college to the exams.
<Insert more yay-ness here>

I'm getting daydreamy again.
Nine days, and then I will be free to do all the little nonsense I've been aching to for weeks now.
*Grins at the thought of Diwali vacations*
There is *so* much that needs to be done.
I'm going to start with making lists.

You make a list of the kinds of brownies you want.
Baking lessons are sitting comfortable somewhere on the list!

The box.

Anger
Lust
Sorrow
Disgust

Castaway.
In a box
Full of your memories.

In the deep recesses
Of the attic,
They lie with the sundries.

Inexplicable.
Then why do I feel
So emotionally insane?

If I throw away
The little boxes,
Will the memories remain?

Sell your soul for favourite quotes!

You know those shady love stories where you chase somebody for sooooo long and realise when you're taking saat pheras around the fire that you are actually in love with your best friend, who's cat also treats you like a part of the family. Yes *that* friend who's been around for so long that you can't even remember what life was like without him. And then you turn around one-eighty degrees, make a dramatic exit from your own wedding, red saree flowing, strands of hair flying, gold jewellery clanking, while the band-baja wala suddenly stops playing the shehnai. All the people stand up and look at you pretending to be surprised while they're actually wondering, 'Omg does the bride's exit mean, we get absolutely no free food?'

But that is not the point of this story. What happens is that right after the bride goes running out she gets into the first cab she finds and tells the cabbie to take her to the airport/ bus stop/ station where her best friend (secretly her lover) is leaving for a fake trip to Ghaziabad/ Ambala/ Tiruchirapalli to set up a papad factory. Just when the train arrives he sees her running dramatically towards him. He throws his bag and runs towards her in slow motion. In the next scene they're siting by the same fire, with the same pandit, the same psychobabble, and the same red saree (What a cheapskate the director is). The only different thing is that, there are no guests in this wedding. They already ate free food at the previous one. So they're basically not invited. 

Aye! Shady guests are trying to get crash this blog post again! Getting to the point.The favourite quotes section on Facebook has always been around, looking at me lovingly, affectionately and patiently, while I shamelessly ignored it and flirted with every other application there was. Now that I have rediscovered it's awesomeness, I'm taking this relationship to a whole new level.

I may sound uber cool as I throw phrases like 'a whole new level', but truth be told it is just another phrase for stalkerishness. Let me explain a typical conversation between me and my friend Parinita, from Improper Conduct (we have just entered into an It's complicated relationship on FB, btw).

Me: <Psychobabble at it's best>

Pari: HAHAHA!

Me: Favourite quotes? ^_^

Didn't get eeeet? Haw :O Let me explain.

Basically for every funny thing I say, I torture her to put it up in her favourite quotes section.

Currently, the success rate is 2 to 1,00,000. Yes, that funny and thaaaaat stalkerish I am.

Anywaaaaaay, so we're both walking to the station today and we're making a list of tacky things to do on my birthday (next blog post that =D ), so I suggest that we sit on the footpath and take shots. Every shot should be followed by a very tacky secret. Then I go on to explain with an example.

Me: Saaaay, when I was ten or something, I thought Suniel Shetty was hot. For a day.

Pari: Hahahahaha! Don't tell anyone my tacky secret.

Me: What? What? What?

Pari: When I was a kid, I thought Jitendra was hot! (And I laugh as I type this!)

Me: If and when I find you an item, I will ask him to dress in all white and ask you out! I will also get him to play a tacky Jitendra film song in the background!

When I told her about my very tacky secret, part of me was relieved because I finally got it out. Another part of me regretted it deeply. For once, *she* screamed 'favourite quotes!' and I wasn't sure if I wanted the world to know this about me. On the other hand, with my new found commitment to the favourite quotes section, it seemed stupid to let this opportunity go to waste. I was torn.

I decided to put my love interest first. Who cares what the world thinks when he is by my side? The quote must go up!

I was super worried she would change her mind by the time she got home. So I took control of the situation.

Enter: Reverse Psychology.

Me: You *cannot* put this up!

Pari: I *so* can!

Me: Pari, I will *die* of embarassment.

Pari: Yea, that is the point!!

Me: No, Pari, No!

Pari: Yes! Yes! Yes!

My plan worked like magic. By the time I came home, there I was, smiling back at me from her favourite quotes. That didn't make any sense, no? Well, as long as you know what I'm trying to say, you grammar whore!

Aaaaanyway, the point is, I am made of awesome and there is no denying that.

To explain this further, I'd like to cite another example.

I was talking to Pranav from For The Wine, yesterday and we were discussing our college festival and all the drama that comes with it.

Me: And N was telling me that M thinks, the fest is her pitajee ka property!

P: Haha! Yes, I've hearing the same thing over and over again.

Me: I was very offended when I heard that.

P: Ouch. Why?

Me: Chauvinism has sunk to every level! Why can't the fest be Matajee ka property?!

P: Hahahahahaha!

Me: Favourite quotes!

And awesomeness that he is, actually went and put my quote up there! Two three tear drops came rolling down my eyes.

Anywaaay, speaking of coolness, awesomeness, (insert 4-5 synonyms here), Parinita and I decided to tell you only half the truth! We conveniently changed some of our quotes to make them a little cooler than they sounded then.

Pari: Wait that didn't sound right!

Me: Oh yea!

Pari: (thinking deeply)

Me: Here's an idea.

Pari: Say say say!

Me: Let's rig our favourite quotes!

Pari: Hahaha! I'm not putting that up but!

Mental Spam

Instability
Emptiness
Dark shadows

Written, unwritten verses
Spoken, unspoken words

Spam,
It feels like mental spam,
These obsessive destructive thoughts.

Dark shadows of the past
Loom in the present

You're gone.
But when I wake up every morning,
Why does this room still smell of you?

I wish upon a star

I'm happy and daydreamy.
Happy, lost and daydreamy.
Daydreamy, lost and happy.

I have an Indian Regional Journalism paper tomorrow that involves learning a lot of dates, names and statistics.
It wouldn't have been so hard, if I had paid attention.
But sadness makes me daydreamy. Happiness makes makes me daydreamy. Sitting in class makes me daydreamy.
Rainbows, butterflies and balloons.

Also, thinking about my birthday makes me very daydreamy.
It's just around the corner and I'm a little more excited than I should be.
Turning twenty should make me sane, right?
It seems to be having the reverse effect on me.

What am I doing on my birthday?
Ummm... putting on a really tiny dress, having a little more than ten shots and dancing on the top of a table in a random bar?
Yeah, right.
My birthday had to plonk itself right in the middle of prelims and boards.
Foooooo!
Which basically means, there are no plans.

I suppose I could wake up and do every random thing that crosses my head.
Thank god for retarded friends?
Fes!
I'm going to let them figure, while dig into brownies and chocolate cake.
And a tiny word of advice, no tacky gifts from Dombivali, ok? *makes a dirty face*

I've been thinking about what I really want for my birthday.
For starters, a pair of very pretty and ridiculously expensive pair of Zara Heels should suffice.
I'm always stalking people to take pictures for my blog.
It would be so nice to have an awesome camera myself.
Not to mention, photography skills.
May be I'll get one of those fancy cameras myself.

I also want to wake up every morning like I'm on sugar rush.
Realise another one of those dreams, I see through the day.
I want to make place for new things. New people.
Ask everything that has no place here, to go find a new home.

"Do I know? Yes, I do.
I won't say it. Why won't you?"