The Dearly Beloved

On a break

2009-05-21T13:11:00.001+05:30

I won't be blogging for a while now. I might shift this blog or change it completely, but all that once I clear out stuff that's been waiting for a while.

Feel free to go over old posts.

Thanks for still reading this blog.

Yours Truly.

Look, Ma, another one!

2009-05-16T22:35:00.001+05:30

So this is something I wrote recently. Someone I know inspired it. I know it's not poetic and refined but it is the way I'd like it to be. Shoot me any feedback. Also, I will be blogging about the new Green Day album very soon.

Heart-Trashed Juliet

She throws another bunch of red roses,
Into the crowded dustbin;
Her radio's always on on loud,
It makes her feel like she's thinking;
She adds another, to the pictures
Stuck and nailed to her wall,
Another sickly Romeo disgraced,
With his lavish promises of love.

And Juliet sings another song,
Of all the rights that were so wrong,
Of all the problems that she couldn't solve.
And of all the silly Romeos, none were that tall.

While others fawn, and sing, and weep,
Juliet cracks another metal guitar
And the revolution group that she joined,
The little love song that she shot from afar.
Thoughts of infinity cross her mind,
Of thick, red books and second class wine.
She guzzles outdated Cola to postpone her thirst
She isn't one of the nice girls that always come first.

And Juliet sings another song,
Welding her way through the disillusioned crowd,
Laughing at her own graceless face,
And the lucky, rich men she saw disgraced.

She looks up above from the boulevard,
And she smiles deep, in her mush-trashed heart,
And she sways to her headphones, in a zone, noise-free,
As on her broken heel, she drags her tired feet.
She's a runaway convict, she's the untouchable sea shore
Alone, smirking, she fights her aimless war.
The deadline is coming again, the countdown begins now,
And Juliet shoots another Romeo, singing her pseudo-punk song.

Generic Shithead

2009-05-08T17:39:00.001+05:30

She jumps down, glides down, from the skies,
She runs out, into the dark she flies
She's a generic shithead reading between the lines
On an overdose of the good ol' times.

An anthem of a punk rock band,
The drummer with the injured hand,
A broken home, a promised land,
Her crooked smile, her castle of sand,
Shiny pictures of the unknown dream,
The wedding dress with the undone seams,
Invisible tattoos and tree lined streets,
The Generic Shithead, her empire, she breathes.

Glued remains of a teenage, trashed,
Wasted, mocked, her forehead smashed,
Recycled, saved, but never brave,
She thinks again of her golden grave.

The hand she left when she was five,
The loved old pet They left to die,
Empty diaries, broken vials,
The twinkles in the dark night skies,
Dusty medals stocked back to back,
The metal guitar, the running tracks,
Hilly summers and outdated crack,
The Shithead Fortune, she wins all back.

(Title, courtesy Ahana Datta)

Things To Do (Updated. Another break.)

2009-05-03T21:33:00.004+05:30

A quick post (I'm currently taking a break from AP). A tiny excerpt from the list of Things To Do that is on my desk right now (Paper and pen is always best for making lists.)

Sort Bookmarks
AP Comp: 1 free response left.
Specs/Lenses-??
Call ********62 (I dont even remember why.)
Note birthdays from Facebook (So I don't wake up in the middle of the night with people asking me if I wished X happy birthday)
Blog: layout/location?
Buy canvas
Get things for cool LED lock
Spanish
Paradise Lost
AP Chem (Solutions and hybridization of orbitals-revise)
AP Physics free resp
Econ: Macro!
Fix clock
Buy batteries
New headphones
Sort bookmarks-urgent (Guess that never happened)
Sort folder marked X in main folder.
Finish editing Photo1, b5 and 7
K570 1st Movement speed is too slow. Fix.
Blog: layout
Check mobile bill
Cut down net usage
Sleep
New spike card
LAN Cable ?
Find Penn password
Find UBC password
Delete spam
Clean desk
Edit Chapter 1
Give Pran the video
House Season 3
Call Pallavi back
Confirm haircut
Upload/Edit photos
Finish Chapter ->feedback
K 570 Second movement
Quicksort-revise
Headphones? Repair? Or new
Sort old college app stuff
What happened to the LAN cable?
Cut down SMSes
Delete junk mail
Sort gmail inbox
Hard drive recovery
Delete spam from mymit post
Kepler update
21st Century Breakdown (prebook? or not)
Get mayo
Sort Maiden album-wise
Decide on essays to recycle
U of T status email
Coffee. Urgent.
Find the Hebrew music video. Aired on IBN.
Return little Prasad's cupcake mould from Pran/get mercury to return
Penn tracking
Spanish?
Finish video editing
Shoot-20 minimum.
Shoes are beginning to die
UBC reply- change of degree-email.
McGill-> talk to M
Mudd email
Fix net
New solder
What happened to Phoenix rover?
Buy pens!
2B pencils. Ruler.
Locate lens solution
Tropic Thunder. DevD. Pirates 1. Good Will Hunting. Shopaholic (?)
Locate 21 dvd
Track comment
Sort music
Sort decision letters
Encash Oxford voucher
Find of Being (Crossword) and Feynman Lectures (Where??)
New Rubik's?
Solder wire
Batteries for TI (will need for AP)
k570 1st Movement Second section.
Shift to Wordpress?
Email prof
Discard ISC books? Ask rents.
Clean desk
Sort papers from 12
Caution money refund form
email Sonal
Change blog layout. Too icky. Name?

There are way too many. It runs into...yeh, 5 and a half pages. First is the most recent one and then follows.
More to come. Later. Break over.

Whatsername

2009-04-11T20:01:00.003+05:30

If I could document just one thing, it would be the people I see.

I walk on Marine Drive pretty much every day, sometimes every eight hours. And the people I see give me something new to go back with each time. Every day, I find some picture I want to click, some people I want to go and talk to, and some people that I want to kick into the rough sea. Thing is, all of them are really easy to understand.

Some, are families that come from out of town. You can see their awe as they stare at the shining Trident Hotel, pointing, clicking pictures of the shining chaos of Mumbai. You can tell apart some by their conscious effort in dressing the way they perceive everyone dresses in Bombay: shiny skirts, ten year old girls made-up to look like amateur actresses, flashy jeans, and occasionally, sunglasses. More often than not, you'll find them around the Trident, making sure each member of the family was included in the picture, buying chips from passing vendors, or just staring at the insane amounts of light from the hotel, cars, and streetlights. In some, you see hope; in others, you see ambition, sadness and a desire to one day to be a part of the flashy world they see. Others still, take pictures of the scene of the recent 26/11 terror attack on the smaller, Oberoi towe, pointing out the place "where the terrorists shot everyone".

Some people are regulars at Marine Drive: the uncle in all white, the woman with the big round dot on her head, the yuppie who tries to run despite his belly, the college kid who desperately tries to walk and look pretty at the same time, the old men sitting on foldable chairs near the Trident, the rich guy who no one notices, the botox-ed woman who lives near Firdaus who's probably some fancy socialite, the crazy man who runs in full marathon gear, with old headphones, on the side of the roadthe balding middle aged man who is always on his phone.

There are some new-comers as well, ones who will soon enough become regulars when they realise that a good sunset is probably better than staying at home.

The thing is, with each group of people, you can almost always tell what they're thinking. Some seem to be thinking about work, concentrating at something no one else in the crowd can see. Some just look in awe as millionaires and paupers fraternise on the sea-facing stretch, looking into the same beautiful sunset, away from the lights. Some pretend to not care, and when you look into their eyes, they look away. Some, couples, sit, possibly hiding from their respective societies, eying every person who looks at them with fear. Some people seem to be lost in thought. Some others care more about their phone calls than the person sitting next to them. With some couples , a lot of them evidently married, you can see the lack of any sort of emotion or chemistry as they provide the other with their presence, walking silently.

In some you can see worry and in others still you see happiness. The happy, contented people are rare to be seen and yet they're the ones that people stare at the most.

And then there's me, as I walk, listening to my playlist and thinking about nothing in particular, smiling occasionally as I see the moon or another constellation appearing in the sky.

Being Human

2009-03-31T16:23:00.002+05:30

My mother isn't fond of technology. She says it is because it's not 'human enough'. It seems fake to her, like 'a robot'.

I don't get that. What's wrong with robots? Bots have emotions too. Maybe of a less dramatic kind, but they do.

What makes someone human? Why is a computer less human? Just because it has no emotion? Who ever said emotions make you human?

Are you more human just because you can cry or laugh? Or because you can lie through your face and no one will know, not even your mom? Or because you will make another mistake and 'learn from it'? Or because you know when to say "I love you" and when to say "Oh, I never said that"? Or because you can do pretty much anything and attribute it to being human?

I'd prefer to be a bot. It might be 'less than a human' in some opinions, but at least I won't have to smile at someone I dislike, or say "No. It's fine." to someone who stabs me in the back. I won't have to worry about the fact that not having someone to hold hands with every second of my life classifies me as a 'reject'. I don't mind not having 'emotion'. What good has that ever done to someone?

Think about it. What makes you think you're human?

Fluorescent Adolescents.

2009-03-28T23:39:00.004+05:30

I saw a curious group of three women today. One was middle aged. One was teen aged. And one was possibly six.

The middle aged woman seemed to be the mother of the two little girls. She was on her MotoRazr, yapping away loudly about something to do with tags. Her coloured, streaked and salon bonded hair swished and her stilettos clacked against the Marine Drive pavement and she wore way too much pink: pink pants, pink nail-polish and pink bag. Of course, her whatever-brand sunglasses were perched at the 'right' place.

The teen girl was also on her cell phone, which looked a lot like an iPhone. She was weirdly skinny, wore pale pink shorts that barely peeped from beneath the white t-shirt that was 10 sizes too big. Like all the girls I see these days, the girl had rolled up her sleeve and tried to tighten the massive t-shirt by squishing it to one side of her barely-there body(I don't get this. Just buy a smaller size!). She wore pink flip-flops, with pink nail polish and some weirdly twisted anklet-thing. Two strands of straight hair were weirdly placed on her face. She clearly did realise that the iPhone could do much much more than call and text but she didn't really care, as she yapped and yapped and yapped, using "like" more times than anyone should. And she never stood straight, like standing straight would give her a diseased appearance.

The smallest girl was also clad in pink. Pink dress, pink shoes, pink clips. But somehow, she looked more sane than the other two. She definitely looked less at her nails and more at the awesome sunset and she even walked faster than the other two. And, I thought she looked lost.

Next to the three, there was me, in a five year old UMM black t-shirt, black shorts, my three year old red socks, and sneakers, staring at the setting sun, clicking pictures with a mobile phone that has been dropped like water.

As the five month old playlist blasted into my ears, I realised it was time to invest in new headphones.

I also felt quite sorry for The Smallest Girl In Pink.

New Things

2009-03-27T11:34:00.001+05:30

Life just took a downturn recently. I'm getting waitlisted at every college where I applied for aid, and everything else is pretty much derived from there.

Right now, I really want to get new stuff, like books I haven't read, more books I haven't read, DVDs I want, music CDs I want and the sorts.

I also want to change the name of this blog. It doesn't connect with me anymore. I thought of "The Black Tree". I also want to change the layout and I might shift from blogspot. Maybe this is an attempt to start over or console myself. Suggestions, advice and names for the blog are welcome.

Music I'm currently listening to: Mika. It makes odd sense right now.

Broken Window-panes

2009-03-24T22:12:00.003+05:30

Which one would you prefer? A broken window pane, or a normal, clean, non reflecting glass? A lot of people would choose the latter, for obvious aesthetic reasons, but I rather like broken window panes.

Why? Because they have more possibilities. With a broken window pane, you can think about what it looked like before, you can speculate on why it broke or even how to fix it. The jagged edges make cool shadows, or it can hurt your finger as you run it over the end, or you can make them by filing the edge. You can shoot nice macro pictures of the edges with your regular camera, you can be reminded of a million things, you can make shapes from irregular ends and you can see split images of the world beyond the window, two perspectives of a same view. You can stick your head out of the window to freak people out, you can cut yourself if you're depressed and you finally won't have to have to have a reason to let the rain in :).

A normal, anti-reflecting window pane is always just that. Transparent. Invisible.

Signifying Nothing.

2009-03-02T21:18:00.004+05:30

So.

The Boards.

Them.

They're here. Already.

Today was the first, English Language. It was, frankly, awesomely easy, and I was so pleased with my essay that I even gave it an incredibly cliched title: "The 'Virtual World' Versus the 'Real World'--The Choices We Are Forced To Make".

Tomorrow, I have Literature (Macbeth, poetry and a couple of short stories.) I'm hoping either Chekov or Joyce Cary will feature, although my hopes of writing an essay on Coleridge or Eliot will probably be mashed to pulp as they featured in last year's paper.

Next week: Math and Physics (Okay. Too much rote learning for Physics. Waiting for AP Physics to lessen all the pain :D).

The week after?

Heh. NOW we come to the point. On Monday The Sixteenth, I have Chem. Needless to say, It's not a Monday I am particularly looking forward too. What's worse? Well, according to some people, some decisions might come out "Mid March", which is before Monday The Sixteenth. So guess who's screwing up Chem? Like it isn't screwed up enough. No, really. I actually tried liking it. I'm fine with physical chem. I'm okay with thermondynamics because it's cool. I'm even okay with O Chem (Organic) because I figured out how to get the equations, with the exception of ten nasty, long ones. But rote-learning extraction-or-synthesis methods/properties/uses/equations for about twenty metals/non metals/compounds? No wai.

My last exam, on March 19, is Computer Science. It requires precisely seven hours of study. Five, if you do it without any/minimal distractions.

Till the 19th then, I won't be posting. Or maybe I will in the two day break before CompSci.

Till then, stay sane and stay *insert your favourite emotion here*.

Sincerely,
Tree.

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!

2009-02-15T13:45:00.003+05:30

I'm baaaaaaaaaaack!
And how.

I've been busy with a couple of things, including studying for the Boards which, let me assure you isn't pretty. ISC has managed to make me hate its Physics syllabus, which, although contains cool topics, sucks because all it requires to do is mug. So? Naturally, I look upon AP Physics for comfort between the rote-learning marathons.

What else?
Well...
THIS:

Enjoy :)

A new layout, among other things.

2009-02-08T15:46:00.005+05:30

The black was getting a bit too much for me so now it's going be white for a bit. Also another bit of news in my life is that the painting I painted a while back is up in my room! It's not framed yet, and I don't know when that's going to happen, but I'm happy it's no longer in storage:

The story behind the painting is actually amusing. One night, some months ago, I decided that I would utilise the canvas that was stocked behind my cupboard. My mother, who paints when she's free(which is hardly so), was very reluctant to allow me to touch her oil paints. Of course, I took out the canvas, paints, brushes and at midnight, started painting. I didn't know what I was going to paint (the last time I had painted was in the ninth grade). I just wanted to paint. For a half hour or so, I just dabbed colours on the bottom left corner, which is why it's so murky. Then I decided I would paint who I thought I was. An hour later, I had painted what you see above. My mother was shocked. So was I.

Now, the painting is right in front of me, and it's the first thing I see when I wake up.

What does the painting mean? Well, art isn't supposed to be spelt out but in the likely event that you don't wanto spend time thinking about the painting you might as well read on. The aim was to, in the moment when I painted this, paint who I thought I was. Also, everything is one. Each colour blends into the other; this was intentional, go figure the meaning. Also, in the right hand top corner, the white specs? They're stars. That's all I have to say because if I said more, it would ruin the whole point; I might as well write an essay.

Hmm. I feel like painting again. If only someone got me a canvas...

I could be hurtful, I could be purple, I could be anything you like.

2009-02-06T10:19:00.010+05:30

The city glimmers as, in a white hoodie, she sits, facing the sea. She can see the lights - from the multi-million dollar houses, the shops and the streetlights...The streetlights shine on, garishly at times, but lending an overall character to the whole affair. And then there are lights from the cars that zip past her on the busy road...Lights from BMWs and Mercedes and second hand scooters and Marutis, with paint peeling off them, and from the flashy cars with loud music of those who had only recently seen gold.

But then, there are twinkling lights. The stars. She looks up, with a serene smile on her face, to face the moon, and the stars. Her eyes take a moment to count the stars. She gasps, astonished, as she counts more than thirty stars. They are rare in this city. She turns her head; Venus stays quietly, on one hemisphere of the sky, Orion and Sirius on the other. People look at her as she cranes her neck back to stare at the moon. In her ears, the old melody plays loudly from her earphones, as she savours the sight in the sky. But it is late, and odd-looking men are now staring at her. Happily, she gets up, another song playing into her ear, her white hoodie catching the light from the passing cars as she crosses the road, to go home, with a small, but sure, smile on her face.

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaack!

I've been having a pretty crappy week. I even stopped walking. Well, last evening, I went walking again. I barely got to see the sunset but it was still beautiful. As I mention in the first part of the post, I could see stars in the sky. It made me so...happy. I wanted to live there, just looking up at the sky, next to the sea, in the middle of the chaos called Bombay. It was beautiful.

As for the sunset, I noticed that a few minutes after sunset, a little part of the sky turns into this beautiful shade of purple. Also, a lot of other thoughts crossed my mind, but as I type this, I can tell I'm going to have an awesome breakfast (Yogurt, strawberry, banana, peach, cappuccino and muffins) and I'm dying to have it, so I'll talk about the thoughts later today, hopefully.

I took some pictures of the sunset and after, but I didn't have a camera and the pictures are from my five-year old cell-phone. So, don't be disappointed if the pictures don't match up to the description.

After the sunset:

The moon...

I leave you, with the lights from the cars and the streetlights.

The rest of the pictures aren't uploading. I'll try again, after breakfast.
Till then, take a guess at the source of the title of this post.

Peace.

Why?

2009-02-04T18:05:00.000+05:30

I'm having a horrible week.
Why?

WHY?

Sunrise and Naive Dreams

2009-01-26T07:55:00.004+05:30

I promise right now that this entry will be published, unlike the seven other drafts I have saved. Life has been pretty okay. By okay I mean good weather (moderate cold with sunny days) and food. The awesomeness of the previously mentioned occurrences is subdued and, in all rights, killed by having to deal with an epic fail called a seventeen mark fall in my Physics Prelims when compared to the previous term's marks, thanks to which I no longer have an A in Physics until The Boards decide to show up and hopefully grant me some marks, but by then Decision would have been out so life would still be affected. Even though my better sense tells me the change of the A to the B won't probably kill my chances that badly, I can't help but get very paranoid.

But, to better things. I've been up for a couple of sunrises. The one I really loved was three days ago. It was quiet. There were clouds in the sky, that parted slowly as the sun went up, but not completely. It was grey/blue and white. There are trees all around my second-floor house (my house is on the second floor), so I could only see the sun twenty minutes after rise but it looked pretty cool through the branches. Pictures for your benefit...

It looks ominous here but it looked really pretty in real life.

Now for the latter half of my title.

I've had a couple of dreams, or well goals, since I was a kid. They're naive to some people, but to me, they mean the world. Here's some of them. A lot of them will probably not end up happening but I'll do my best to make sure they do. So here goes:

Scoring the last goal in a football (soccer) match at Wembley and celebrating.(I know what you're thinking. But hey, it's a dream, okay.)
Singing in a rock concert with an audience of at least 2000 (This gained importance after the INXS concert)
Seeing the Earth from space (This is my life's aim. I'd be happy I had to die the next moment.)
Playing Mozart's Sonata no. 570 in front of 200 people, including my piano teacher.
Running a marathon.
Climbing the Dome (This gained prominence in the past two years)
Para sailing in Bombay
Backpacking across Europe (Yeh. Me too.)
Road-trip-ing across India and USA (Separately, of course)
Walking across Canada.
Learning the Tango.
Opening a small, cosy bookshop in a nice street in Europe. Possibly near the Louvre. Not the shiny,bright ones but the old school type. And it will serve awesome coffee, wine, and awesomely awesome bread. And you'll have comfy seats, not hard wooden chairs to sit in while you read. All this will probably be when I'm 60. Hopefully, paper books will still exist.
Skydiving (I am going to do this, no matter what.)
Seeing the Aurora lights.
Spending one entire night camping out to see the stars. No sleeping. Just a telescope, no lights and stars.
Composing a sonatina.
Meeting Billie Joe Armstrong, Tre Cool and Mike Dirnt; also, Jason White.
Climb a cliff.
Meeting J.K Rowling (I'm a Potter Maniac.)
Making a computer.
Buying the entire collection of Post-Its.
Buying my mum and dad a house with my own money.
Writing an autobiography.
Learning how to play cards.
Starting a company, earning a lot, and then selling it. Just to see what it feels like and whether I'd be able to.
Heading a magazine.
bungee-jumping off a building.

So that's a fair bit of them. They'll get more as I go on.

Now I must go. Why? Because halfway through the post, I broke my second toenail. And it's been bleeding since. I didn't go because I hadn't posted for a while. Yes, I'm dedicated.

Also, it's 4:30 am.

Oh and btw, my dad bought me Maltesers (ignorant souls, know that they are my heaven) and beautiful red shoes (I have a HUGE thing for footwear) that don't fit. That's for the next post.

Off to put a band-aid now and hopefully, get some sleep.

Cheers.

Yours Sincerely.

Blind.

2009-01-21T19:24:00.002+05:30

I broke my spectacles. So I'm effectively blind. In two hours I will be back.

Pardon any mistakes in typing. I'm three inches close to my keyboard as I type.

Cheers.

Three Hundred Bucks.

2009-01-16T22:08:00.008+05:30

It's funny how a lot of people seem to forget that a surprise tends to generally mean a surprise (i.e. not knowing beforehand), and not a "hey!-so-I-really-want-to-feel-loved-and-honoured-and-surprised-so-this-is-what-you-need-to-do-and-these-are-the-people-you-need-to-call-and-I-promise-I-won't-tell-anyone-and-make-sure-you-don't-either-because-then-people-will-think-I-am-lame-which-I-am-not;-it's-just-that-I-want-to-be-surprised-like-everyone-else" surprise.

I give them the benefit of wanting to be appreciated; everyone wants to feel special. But I have this...issue...with the whole thing. It just feels wrong. If you see something and really like it, buy it yourself. If you can't for any reason, don't. And accept that! Complain for all you care. Just don't do it so that you compel the other person to buy it for you as 'a surprise gift'. In all ways, it's equivalent to borrowing money to buy it on your own, or worse, according to me, begging for it; a lot of humans, regular, living ones, deal with the fact that they can’t have a phenomenal amount of things they want and maybe you should too. And if someone chooses not to be part of the whole 'surprise', for whatever reason, even if you consider that person to be your soul mate, don't, for Pete’s sake, go up to them and ask them to contribute. It's low, embarrassing and more uncomfortable than you can imagine. It's great being honest and I grant people that, but doing something like this is just not nice. Worse still, refrain from snidely putting it in not-so-subtle remarks. It’s pathetic etiquette. If the person ever had respect for you, trust me, they will lose most of it, if not all; the entire perception they have of you will change. Just imagine if they did something like that to you; you’d probably cringe.

Now, a lot of people will think that this is too...judgmental. Well, perhaps it is, but it's my opinion. I’m a realist in essence but I believe that some things should be a certain way.

Surprises are meant to be surprises. Just like charity is supposed to be out of the goodness of the heart, and not obligation, even though a lot of people seem to think otherwise. Just like initiative, respect and love is not obligatory. Just like the fact that the gift ‘A’ gave you cost fifty bucks, but the one B gave cost three hundred bucks, shouldn’t be a problem to you; the fact that ‘A’ didn’t even give you a gift shouldn’t too, but we’re still working on lower levels. Very honestly, it doesn’t matter to me, unless I am forced to invite someone I hate, in which case I need compensation for my patience in staying in their vicinity with a fake smile.

Obligation does not imply having to pay up for a pseudo-surprise, or for anything for that matter; it’s not your or my money or time after all, to have the authority to decide how to spend it. Obligation is taking care of the life you bring into this, at times harsh, world, or making sure that the person you knocked down doesn’t die.

Surprises are meant to be surprises. Leave some amount of genuineness in the world, if not in yourself.

Did you sail across the sun?

2009-01-10T15:06:00.008+05:30

I'm guessing everyone out there, reading this or not, has a song. Their song. A song that hits you even the 3559Th time you hear it; a song that yours and only yours; sometimes, a song that you don't know why you like.

I've got one too. I don't know why I liked it, but I've liked it since I first heard it. I'm pretty possessive about it too; I can't stand it when other people like the song. It bugs me. It's mine. I'm so obsessed with it that my one priority at this year's prom was to dance alone to the song, under the stars, in my school Quad. I play it at the beginning and end of everything that ever matters to me: my birthday, Melbourne, and the last day of school. I play it whenever I feel I need to meet myself. It's somehow...me. It's a beautiful song. It's got this...thing...to it. It makes you want to jump, smile, sing out loud, dance and just be you. And yes, I'm listening to it as I write these words.

The song isn't the only one I like by the band it's by. I've begun to like them quite a bit, although recently.

I've never been able to tell people why I like it; I just can't put it properly into words. It's this feeling I get when I listen to it. Like I'm free. Like the feeling I get when I stare up at the night sky. Like being alive. Like just being plain damn happy.

Every single time I hear it I want to jump and sing it out loud and smile (Chris Martin style). I actually start dancing quite often. Not break dance, just dancing on my toes, spinning around, being happy. It's the song I want played at my graduation; it's the song that I'll be hearing on my earphones as I walk into college for the first time, whichever college it may be; it's the song I want played when I fall in love; It's the song I want played on every birthday I have; It's the song I want played if I ever decide to spend my life with someone; It's the song I want played at my funeral, loud.

The song is Drops of Jupiter. It's by Train.

The lyrics don't make sense in the conventional way but to me, they mean the world, in a subconscious way.

Here's the original music video of the song, although I like this one better.

Google the lyrics if you like the song, but only after you've listened to it. One of the other songs I like by them, is Meet Virginia.

I don't share it with many people, but I am now.

This defines me right now.

2009-01-05T01:06:00.002+05:30

My Facebook status:

"Maitrayee thought she might like chem for once. She was shot dead by 4-methylpent-3-en-2-one for being wrong"

R.I.P.

*minute of silence*

Trackpants and Multitasking

2009-01-03T16:25:00.002+05:30

For the past week or so, I've been living in trackpants. I wake up in tracks, go for a walk, in tracks, comeback, shower, change into new tracks, try and study, have lunch, study again, sleep, get up, go for a walk (in tracks), come back, shower, change into new tracks and repeat.

It's quite boring. But trackpants are officially awesome.

My Chem exam is day after tomorrow. That's not awesome.

I don't really have the motivation to write a nice, interesting post. But I will defend my action of editing out most of the post before the post before this post: it was personal and most of my friends wouldn't read it on the blog.

I'm way too tired now. Have fun. '09 till now hasn't been that awesome.

Yours Sincerely.

Happy New Year

2009-01-01T00:36:00.002+05:30

Happy '09

The The End of the Year Speech

2008-12-31T13:59:00.017+05:30

As I begin this post, it is 11:23 pm. Thirty seven mintues more. Sorry. Another second this year.

In some parts of the world, what we humans call a new year, has already arrived.

2008 was a rough year for me. It was the last year I'd ever be in school. Ever. It was the year that would decide where I would be in the next four. Honestly, it wasn't an easy year at all. Marks suddenly became hard to get, people suddenly got more pissing off when you were stressed out already and at times you felt like Dementors had sucked all the fun out of your life. But the year, like everything else I initially hate, was an incredible experience to learn from.

At the end of this year, I'd just like to thank people. Whether they're reading this or not, I thank them. So I'll make this more generic :

I thank everyone I know, meet, talk to, see or interact with. You make me who I am.

To Marine Drive, for being my safe haven, for listening to me, for giving me the best sunrises and the best sunsets, for inspiring me, for keeping me sane.

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

What You Missed Yesterday

2008-12-27T21:48:00.011+05:30

Yesterday evening's walk/jog on Marine Drive was glorious! It was sunny, yet cool and windy when I went and it was dark-ish and the first stars were out when I went home. Here are the pictures :)

Starting off...

trying to go for a panorama...

Malabar hill...

The Earth rotates and the sun continues to go down...

This is my favourite place is Bombay right now, where I walk...

The sun went down :(

But the stars are out, ushered in by Venus itself :D

It was beautiful.

So, you probably think this is turning out to be a photo-blog but the thing is I really don't have much time to write. I have four posts saved as drafts and I haven' t finished them yet.

But I hope you like it. I'll try writing but I can't promise.

Happy New Year!(if I don't post before that)

Till then,

Yours Truly.

Soppy Songs, Corny Videos and Food

2008-12-24T20:41:00.011+05:30

So. I'm feeling particularly good. I took a break today, even though I have *a lot* of work. I'm feeling all Christmas-y but around here, there isn't any Christmas spirit. Seriously. One, since I live in Bombay, there's no snow. Never been. We're on the coast and in the tropics, so yeah, no snow and pretty much no winter.

The whole day I pretty much did nothing but listen to songs I've heard way too many times(think Coldplay's Yellow and the sort) and watch old videos or chick-flicks that I've seen way too many times. And then, in a glorious stroke of inspiration, I decided to spread Christmas cheer in my house by making food. I made Spaghetti Bolognese, foie gras and caramelised apple with cinnamon ice cream. And you're stupid if you just believed that. I am really bad at cooking. REALLY bad. I can't even make a decent cake. But I DID make dessert in the last two hours. Nothing elaborate. Just chopped up banana, strawberries, some vanilla ice cream I found at the back of the fridge and chocolate sauce that I made from scratch (which means I took a slab of Lindt Mint Chocolate, melted it in the microwave, added a bit of icing sugar and a wee bit of milk because it was too thick. The entire affair was quite enjoyable and the chocolate sauce/dressing actually tasted good! My brother actually loved it. It felt awesome though, eating something I'd made :)

Happy Christmas everyone! You don't have to believe in the legend, I don't and I'm an atheist, but just enjoy this time. Plus, there is awesome food all around! So happy holidays!

Pictures of my creation? Of course :)

A Quick Update

2008-12-21T22:30:00.002+05:30

Life is pretty decent right now.

Holidays are on, I have two weeks to do ten apps and four thousand page textbooks for my prelims, and the weather is finally becoming decent, although the lack of sunshine bugs me.

I finally sent the school forms part of my apps. Including the one to 77 Mass. Avenue :s

Cheers.

How I came to like Math.

2008-12-19T21:00:00.004+05:30

A little over a year ago, I hated math. Wait. No. I disliked it strongly. It's got nothing to do with marks. In my ten standard Boards I got 96 on 100. I knew I was getting a 96 because I forgot to do one four mark sum in the compulsory section. I've usually always got an A in math. Surely, I liked it? Well, the thing is, I didn't. My dad didn't like that fact and ironically, didn't really accept the truth till I actually began to like math. So, back to math.

I never understood how people found it "fun". For me, trig was stuff to do with right-angled triangles, Algebra was the Messenger of Doom and calculations were plain damn boring. It really wasn't fun. Calculus, perhaps, was the exception. I wasn't allowed to take AP Calc BC in school so a couple of people from my class and I took classes elsewhere (which didn't help me much and I ended up studying from Barron's', but that's for another post). The classes were fun, courtesy the eccentric, and sometimes, weird tutor and a friend of mine, who imitates him with award winning precision. I didn't learn much of calculus, thanks to his "different" ways of teaching, which involved weird epithets for different types of Integration and the sort.

Then in December '07, I went for a summer school I had been DYING to go for ever since I first heard about it in tenth grade--The Science Summer School at the Trinity College, University of Melbourne (Australia). School sent a couple of eleventh graders each year, and so thirteen of us went last year. I'm not going to talk about the summer school (which was *Awesome*), because I'll take up the whole blog, so I'm going to stick to the title of this post for help.

One of the lectures was titled "The Shape of Space" by Marty Ross. Now, anyone who knows me knows how easy it is to get me *excited* about space or more particularly, the shape of space. Sometime before going for Summer School, I had been struck by an ingenious idea regarding the shape of space, only in, erm, more, erm, abstract terms. My theory was something to the effect of "Hey what if space is like a sphere, only a more complex sphere; like a solid sphere with a transparent or invisible boundary. So you never know where it ends".

So. When I saw the lecture on our timetable, I naturally got excited. But alas, on the day of the lecture, I sprained my foot. Nevertheless, I endured and reached the lecture hall, eventually. I sat, and waited for some physics professor to come and talk about extra dimensions and stuff I'd recently read in the SciAm. No.

Out came Marty Ross. White haired, crazy-scientist type. Here's a picture of him.

Over the next hour and a half, he talked about the Torus, the klein the 3 Sphere(like the weird sphere in my previously mentioned theory !), about playing board games on cylindrical surfaces, or even cooler, on the klein or a Mobius strip and about stuff like the Poicare conjecture. I can't elaborate much (but I promise to one day tell you everything) but it was bloody awesome. And it was about stuff I thought about daily. And...*drumroll* it was math. Math. Not Physics. Math. Stuff we mugged up in school and vomited onto the paper wasn't, not really. That was. That was math actually being used.

To top it off, Marty Ross gave us chocolate. With calculus on it. What a guy.

The picture (the chocolate in my friend's hand)

So, 'twas after two lectures by Marty Ross (the other one was about Mathematical gibberish --for another post again, I have little time now) that I came to like math, perhaps now love it too. It's still not about the marks. But it feels bloody awesome when numbers make sense now. Or when you solve a horrible integral. Or get chocolate with calculus on it.

I don't know why, and it may seem illogical but I suddenly began to like Math. Maybe it was because it gave me an "aha!" moment. Maybe it was because of the lecture. Maybe it was destiny. No. Wait. It wasn't destiny. I really don't know why. But I'm so glad I did. I love it now. And now I'm starting my school's first Math club. A year ago, if you told me I'd end up doing so, I'd have mocked your stupidity. I just have to tell people that what they hate may not be what they hate! And that Pi isn't 22/7. It isn't. Period.

The last picture: Of Marty Ross and me. He looks freaked. Maybe it was the flash. Ignore the look on my face. I was too awed to take a good picture.

What a guy. He made me like Math. What a guy.

What a guy.

My Life Right Now...

2008-12-09T20:50:00.004+05:30

is terribly okay.

I finally managed to turn in three of the four projects I had due, with the last one due Friday. Now, this is the Chem project. And it's on glucose, because we were forced to choose a topic related to bio-chemistry. I don't like chem very much. In fact, I wish it would just evaporate like a black hole. I really wouldn't mind Hawking Radiation.

Early decisions come out Monday, so I'm tense about that...

And there is a week left of school. One week.

And I'm running out of time, so I have to run now. I'm so hosed (not that way, yet)

IHTFP.

Gah.

Ten Things You Didn't Know

2008-12-05T17:58:00.003+05:30

So, a lot of people have been doing the Ten Things thing and I felt the need to be a part of this meme. So here it is. Ten things you probably didn't know about me:

3. I think I'm smart. No, seriously. Despite all that I might say, I happen to think I'm smarter than most people. There. I said it. My only problem is I don't work hard *enough*. And I hate that about me.

5. Sometimes when you think what I'm saying is profound philosophy, it really isn't. I'm probably in one of my "I'm so great moods". But sometimes, I do give awesome advice.

7. I miss the person I was four years ago. I didn't think that much about tiny things. I really wanted to just go out and do things. I never let people affect me. I used to talk to my relatives. I used to smile much much more than I do now. No wait, I still smile a lot. I believed I was immortal.

11. I get obsessive about things. And places. Occasionally people, which means I will talk about them at every chance I get. Every chance.

13. I used to say exactly what I meant. I don't anymore. A lot of the time, I don't tell the whole truth. Sometimes I don't reveal a thing. Most of the time, I use metaphor and other associations to convey my intentions, which most people do not get because they never think about it. And I'm usually not sorry about that. I've become that way.

But sometimes, I will say exactly what I mean and people won't even realise.

Sometimes I stop talking mid sentence because I know that if I continue, I would probably end up screaming at the person. Sometimes I use words people remember, from conversations with me, as a way of sending across a message to them. Just to let them know. And I do it subtly.

17. I love chick flicks. And Gossip Girl. And Gilmore girls. And The OC. And any other teen flick-y thing. And dressing up. And shoes, especially high heeled strappy black ones. And boots. And mascara. And long dangly silver earrings. And long straight hair. Sometimes I become more girly that you can imagine. I even start wearing a lot of pink.

19. Each poem I've ever written has to do with a lot of people I know. If I talk to you everyday, there are more than three poems about you.

23. Money isn't everything. But I wouldn't mind a Chanel closet and a penthouse in downtown Manhattan. I really wouldn't.

29. The one thing I hate about myself is that I make my self get over situations and people because otherwise it would hurt me. And be inappropriate. But otherwise I really like myself. A lot.

31. If I love you, you will know. No matter what anyone, including me, will say, you will know. And chances are, I would never tell you. But you will know. You just will.

In Memoriam.

2008-12-02T22:24:00.000+05:30

Last Wednesday I had a dream

The streets stood mute and martyred

As the fiend danced his dance of death,

A city brought down upon its knees,

Worlds destroyed by a stray bullet's breath;

A people stand to fight their dread

But with unknowing emotion still,

While some weep their sorrows out,

The audience watches the show from the charred window sill.

Great men and vile traitors are born overnight,

Each with his own court to hold,

As the silent weir awaits its eruption,

Meek souls leech from the bold.

Forgotten Courage gets its trembling throne yet again,

Crowned with all the glory of an avoidable fault,

As the money-lender sits with a bandaged arm,

Worrying, praying, and securing his broken vault.

A homeless orphan learns to save his grain,

As a mourning father learns to hide his grief,

And from their charred window sills,

The audience watches the dramatic piece.

Poetry and Reflections

2008-11-24T22:25:00.002+05:30

We've been doing some pretty cool stuff in English at school. After finishing The Story of Lost Friends by Ruskin Bond, which, by the way, is brilliant, we're doing Growing Up by Joyce Cary, both incredible pieces of observations. I, of course, being the compulsive analyser, keep commenting on the works as half the class sleeps, but today was especially amusing because the teacher kept saying "As Maitrayee rightly pointed out...". It was weird hearing my name repetitively.

On the other hand, Physics classes just seem to go downhill. Thank god for AP! The teacher goes on and on and on and we keep writing and no one really cares. It bugs me. I asked him a question that figured in the Physics Olympiad and he didn't even bother. Think you can get it? Here it is...

A bucket filled with water has a hole on the side from which water flows out. What happens to the flow if the bucket is in free fall?

Any guesses?

I thought so.

Anyway. I officially turn seventeen in, what, ninety minutes?

Wow. I feel old.

I was reading a post on a friend's blog. The topic was 'sacrifices we make for the ones we love'. Now, I'm not going to debate on the 'love' aspect but the post got me thinking. I realised we do it all the time. Seriously. I definitely do, even though it brings me much grief at times. It's something as simple as not telling the person you have a crush on that you do or making yourself get over someone because it was inappropriate and inconsequential.

Why do we do it? According to Daniel Gilbert, a Phychology professor at Haa-vahd and author of one of my favourite books, Stumbling Upon Happiness, it's because we hope that it will bring us happiness in the future. Make sense?

Think about it.

The Universe Conspires Against Me

2008-11-23T15:15:00.003+05:30

Apologies.

The post was supposed to be up yesterday but I fell asleep early thanks to exhaustion.

Life is a to-do list right now. So this is going to be short.

Oh my MIT interview is on Tuesday, which also happens to be my birthday. My b'days usually suck but I hope this one doesn't for sure.

cheers.

Weddings, Old Memories and Stars

2008-11-21T20:32:00.002+05:30

I have around a month or so before Christmas Break starts. This means that the first day back in January, I'll have my prelims and a month after that The Boards. Yes, The Boards. Them. The Inevitable. The Terryfying. The Overrated. Them.

So, anyway, this means that whatever is left of November, and sixteen days in December are all I have left in my schooling life (excusing the prelims and The Boards and APs.) As happy as this makes me, it does leave a little part of me sad. So, in my attempt to chronicle an important part of my life (lol. yeah. ok.) I am going to try a little something. I am going to blog, or at least try to, everyday from now to December 16. That entails entries that will range from profound philosophy from my soon-to-be seventeen year old self to ramblings about homework and apps, and most importantly, completely random, mundane thoughts.

You must be wondering what I just said has anything to do with the title so I'll start the actual post. During my ritualistic walk on Marine Drive today, I noticed a lot of shiny lights, grouped at random intervals. Wedding season is apparantly here. There were more than five today, near Marine Drive itself. I'm not going to say much about weddings, or my dislike for them, but I hope the *lucky* couples have it good. It's their life right? Fine. Go ahead.

The other day I went for dinner with my family. Yeah my whole family. All four of us. Of course there were arugments. Anyway, we went for dinner with the daughter of one of my dad's friends, who was more than thirty years older than my dad. I used to call him Jobalia uncle. He passed away a few years back but he was really cool guy.

He is also the person who gifted me his old piano. Yeah. He gave me his piano. His kids used to play it and then they all settled down so there was no one to play it. I had just playing back then and my 'rents couldn't really buy a piano because they were really expensive. So, he asked my dad to let me come to his house to practice, three days a week.

He was always there when I practiced. Sometimes, when I really didn't feel like practicing my scales over and over again, I would play random stuff, pretending I was Beethoven or whoever. But he never said a thing. Only once, I think, when I pressed the pedal and played random chords loudly, he asked me to keep it softer.

Otherwise, he would just sit there, white hair combed back, in his white safari suit, reading a newspaper, with a short glass of rum and ice.

So, at dinner the other day, everyone started talking about the piano practice. It was a bit embarassing but it felt nice you know, like I'd met my old self, like meeting a lost friend or something.

And one the way back some old Bollywood songs started playing on the radio, songs I used to dance to as a kid. It added to the whole nice effect.

It was nice. Really nice.

Anyway, coming back to my walk today, I saw stars today. More than twenty of them :) . So naturally I got excited and people started thinking I was demented or whatever. But it was cool.

Stars. In Bombay. It's not common, you know. It really isn't. So when I see them, I celebrate. I act like a kid, looking up when I walk. And I inevitably fall down or trip over my own leg.

But they're stars! In Bombay.

Birthday Wish List

2008-11-20T22:32:00.005+05:30

Just a couple of things I wouldn't really mind getting on my birthday. The list isn't in any particular order...

Frank Wilczek's The Lightness of Being: Mass, Ether and the Unification of forces
An iPod. Listening to music on my phone is lame.
Canvasses (Yeah, I've begun to like painting again)
Oil paints
Paints for my room walls.
A watch so that I don't misjudge the time left in a math exam.
Internet that doesn't die periodically.
Long stemmed roses. And orchids.
A set of Staedtler Fineliners.
Other Staedtler stuff. Lots.
Someone to do my Chem project for me.
An acceptance letter from MIT and Mudd four months later. (This is top priority)
Earphones
A pin-up board with colourful pins.
A magnetic whiteboard. With colourful markers (Yes, I like colour all of a sudden.)
A Macbook Pro (this is getting a bit much isn't it?)
xkcd tees: Stand back, Science, Witty and Useless (the names of the t-shirts, duh.)
Collected Poems: Auden
Cool socks
A cd collection of all Green Day Albums
A Beatles poster.
A charm bracelet. With a Tree charm.
Lenses.
A new Rubic's cube.
All the seasons of Gilmore Girls. And House. And Bones.
A lifetime of free supply by Baskin Robbins.
A lot of Cadbury.
The ticket to a rock concert.
A hug from the Dearly Beloved.
Badges :)
A ticket to Melbourne.
A ticket to Boston.
A holiday.
The ability to write college essays without procrastinating.
A really really good camera.
Pringles.
Free supply from Barista whenever I want.
Blueberry cheesecake. And muffins.
Cash.
Loudspeakers.
A sleepover in school.
A camp out to see the stars all night.
A telescope (really soon)
A solder iron and lots of solder wire.

Ok so that's a lot to choose from. I could list more, you know.

Don't need to know

2008-11-18T23:21:00.002+05:30

You know, i'm getting sick of the "Need to Know" policies the world has. Seriously.

You don't need to know where your money comes from, or where it goes. We often don't need to know why we're wrong. We never need to know why we're right. We don't need to know why someone else is chosen instead of us.

Ever thought about why charity is compulsory? Why faith is demanded? Why initiative is graded, service measured by points? No, you don't need to know. You don't need to know why it is always your generation which lacks morals. You don't need to know what morals you're missing, just that you always are.

Why do you have to bow your head to show respect? Why is respect demanded more that commanded? Why do have to run around the field just to prove that you can run? Why will sitting next to a particular person harm you? Chances are, you don't need to know. Who decides that? Well, you don't even need to know that, so you will never be told.

As a kid, you didn't need to know why you couldn't just have ice cream or stay out in the rain. As a teen, you didn't need to know why you had a curfew. When will this stupid concept end?

It's in school, at home, everywhere.

Gah, it buggs me.

Love, Love, Love Alone

2008-11-04T22:49:00.003+05:30

So.

Life's been pretty bleh(yes, that is a word) . School's started and I'm pretty much suffering from infant stages of Senioritis. This post isn't about college or my life, which periodically oscillates towards bleh. It's got no references to studies and scientific research done on the topic, because I'm too lazy to link you to everything right now.

It's about love.

Love. Hmm. Love.

It is a funny thing indeed. But hey, I probably wouldn't know. Would you? Maybe. Maybe not. How do you know you're in love? Is it that flippety thing your heart does when you see the Dearly Beloved? Is it the 'whoosh' feeling, like you missed a step? Is it the loony smile? Is it the instinctive battering of the lashes, the practised smile, the subtle leaning, the tilt of the head? Is it the tendency to become incredibly clumsy when you're talking to your beloved? Is it the tendency to invariably make a fool of yourself, despite of having an IQ of 111, while talking in the presence of that person?

Does it even have to be with another person? Heck, I know a few people who are madly in love, with themselves! This is not the mere " I like myself more than anyone else".

I have a friend who broke up about two months back with a guy she adored and worshipped and loved, although I still fail to understand her exact reasons for doing so. Well, technically, he broke up with her. His reason at the time? That he fell out of love with her. Ok. That's acceptable. It happens to people. It could happen to you. It's fine.

She, of course, was heartbroken and everything else that comes along with it. But she didn't really understand what had gone wrong. Now, recently, she asked him again, why he did whatever he did in their relationship.

His reason?

That he was afraid of trusting her 'too much' and falling in love with her 'too much'. So he broke up with her.

Whoa. What?

Usually, don't humans like to be in love, even if it is too much? And if you like someone that much, why in the world would you ever want to leave them voluntarily? It's not like he was going to fight a war, you know. Nor were either of them dying of some incurable disease. And as far as I know, neither of them is a vampire. Why, then, such an explanation?

I still haven't come to understand it. Maybe I won't, because I don't think in the terms of putting myself under the sort of grief involved when you voluntarily break off a relationship because you are afraid of 'loving too much'. I mean, come on. You love, you stay, unless circumstances wish otherwise.

If either my friend or her ex-friend is reading this, know that I don't think either one of you is right or wrong. Everyone has reasons. Falling out of love is very well possible and it is something you should come to terms with. If you have a reason, try not to come up with something that will leave your ex-boy/girlfriend fuming and perplexed. It's not nice. And it makes me think you're incredibly stupid.

Get on with your lives and learn to laugh at what happened. Perhaps it's not my place to give such advice, but hey, I just did.

An uneventful life

2008-10-31T11:56:00.003+05:30

Life has been pretty uneventful, unless of course you count the fact that I finally sent my early application. Being the procrastinator I am, I waiting until yesterday to send my app. Why? Well, I realised yesterday morning that one of my essays wasn't really that good. So, instead of employing my brilliant editing skills, I merely scrapped the essay and wrote another one. Yes, about ten hours before I submitted the app, I changed my essay completely. My parents got paranoid, but hey, they always do. They're parents.

Even as I sit here and type this post out, I am being damned by my life. You see, I have a piano recital in about five hours, which I technically should be practicing for. Not to mention the dangerously long list of Things to Do, which includes starting work on the other apps, starting on the three massive projects that are due on Dec 1, and studying for my Prelims, which like everyother exam, according to everyone, will potentially decide the turn my life will take.

So, I think I will go and prevent further damnation.

Cheers.

Oh, all those concerned, Happy belated Diwali!

Unfair?

2008-10-23T10:36:00.004+05:30

So. (this sort of beginning is becoming tradition now)

College apps are in full swing. Essays and other such frustrations are now a regular part of my pathetic life. The List is now updated and pondered upon daily not just by Yours Truly, but her parents too. I'm pretty sure everyone else is doing the same: adding colleges, deleting some etc.

Anyone who has a Dream School, the school (college) where and only where they will be absolutely and completely happy, will tell you how frustrating and, to use slang, pissing off it is when someone from your school randomly decides to apply to your dream school even when they are not as much, or not at all, excited about that school.

Why is it frustrating? Well, because being an international student, the amount of competition you face is exponentially proportional to the year in which you apply. Most top colleges do not accept more than one student, if at all, from a high school. So, if four people from your school are applying to your dream school with you, the probability of you getting admitted reduces drastically from the minute probability that existed before thanks to the 6% admit rate for international students, to a number nearing the the value for the mass of an electron. Does this sound like a in-the-process-rant? Well, it is.

I just found out that I will be stuck in a similar predicament. Yeah, yeah, I have heard the whole "Why are you worried about competition? It's going to be there anyway" line a about two thousand five hundred and eleven times from my parents. The problem is not competition. Hell no.

The problem is the kind of people who apply to someone else's dream school for fun or to know whether they will get in, even when they are already madly and deeply in love with another school. The problem is in the pathetic, sly manner that this is done. The victim of such a situation then falls into the worst sort of predicament imaginable during application time: hopelessness. Why? Because the aforementioned sadists are usually the kind who have SAT scores that are at least 40 points more than that of the one who dreams of that school. The worst part is that the people applying with you (me, right now) aren't even that excited about the school! Imagine if they get in and you don't! What a tragic day that would be and yet we cannot prevent it. Thanks to liberty, despite knowing full well that the people applying with me to my dream school are no where close to loving it as much as I do, I can't stop then from applying. Despite knowing that they are only applying for the name. And that they will probably never be as happy there. I can see it in front of me. And I can't do a thing.

The situtation is irritating, frustrating and angering. And it is wrong. It is unfair. And yet it prevails, so we must bear it like the homeless orphan who sells cheap flowers to survive another day in an unfair world. Must we?

We'e going to the moon!

2008-10-23T10:15:00.002+05:30

Chandrayaan-I took off from Sriharikota yesterday at 6:20 am local time. After having slept at 4 am I woke up just in time to see the historic lift off.

It was pretty cool you know. About 50 years after NASA, the Indian Space Research Org. finally managed to send something to the moon. It may be late, but better late than never.

Reports of a manned mission by 2015 are already doing the rounds, but I really can't imagine it happening so fast, though it would be beyond cool!

The post that should have come first like on every other blog

2008-10-19T00:27:00.003+05:30

This post should really have come first instead of my pathetic excuse for procrastination. Anyway. Here we are. Assume this is my first post and feel excited.

Greetings.

Pretty much anyone will tell you that I talk. I talk incessantly and often, unnecessarily. I tend to employ the use of language that drips with a sarcasm that is so polished that its numerous victims fail to realise their unfortunate predicament. My parents don't quite like this particular trait of mine as they feel it breeds foul thoughts and frustration and everything else that isn't right.

The other thing I do a lot and, again, incessantly, is thinking. I think about everything and even nothing (though that qualifies as something, hence making me a liar in writing this, or simply weird).

I have an opinion on everything. A dress, someone's hair, your face, the sky, a leaf, milk, love, mental disease, the physically unattractive neighbourhood auntie, anything.

I tend to fall into the category of people that most *all* people I interact with, classify as "Weird".

For quite a while now, I've been obssessed with "The Dearly Beloved". It started with Green Day's song-ette in 'Jesus of Suburbia' and then figured heavily in my poetry. So here it is for you. A blog about everything inside the chaos of my mind.

There's so much more about me, or not, but it's late and I'm pretty sure no one is reading this anyway (yes, that is my level of optimism), so my pseudo-cynical brain must rest to improve my efficiency of procrastination. Which brings me to the end of this post.

I am the procrastinator from hell. And yes, that is a challenge.

And I will probably like you if you read xkcd.

I'm Sorry. Or am I?

2008-10-17T20:22:00.005+05:30

So. *yes, what a witty beginning. Aren't to dying to read the rest?!*

I heard someone apologise to someone else today and a queer thought struck me. My mind went into instant chaos and excitement while pondering about the fascinating theory that had come to my mind. To relieve you of your agony as you await the knowledge, I shall enlighten you.

I realised that when anyone aplogises, he or she isn't always doing it purely because they are sorry. It is more a tool of reconciliation than of apology. Imagine saying "I'm sorry" to someone right now.

What is the first thing you expect? For most developed minds, and hopefully you, if you understood what i wrote so far *but then again, chimps have been known to recognise letters*, the first expectation would be a reply to the effect of "It's OK" or another form of reconciliation. Now imagine that the person who you so passionately apologised to does not, in fact, forgive you and ignores you and remains silent. Clearly, being the emotionally qualified human you hopefully are *refer to allusion to chimps above*, you would feel terrible and would think that the person who you apologised to was at fault as you did your half of the required work and that person did not. Worse perhaps, would be a situation when the person you apologised to openly stated that it, in fact, was not OK, not at all. You would probably spend a fair bit of time feeling bad (unless you happen to be one particular guy I know) about the whole affair.

If you were only concerned with letting the person know you were sorry, whether or not they replied would be immaterial to you. Yet we humans are flawed and tragically so, at times. You, and undoubtedly the seemingly flawless Yours Truly, will most definitely expect that reconciliation irrespective of whether forgiveness was granted. It, perhaps, is another demonstration of how self centred our existence is. Not that it's a bad thing.

Think you are different? Prove me wrong.

On another note, I'm feeling very prone to writing right now, so if you are lucky you might get two (maybe more!) posts very very soon! * Lucky, aren't you!*

cheers

Yours Truly.

oh and think about what I said in this post.

Sunsets

2008-10-13T16:33:00.005+05:30

Everyone knows how obssessed I am with Marine Drive. I go for walks there whenever I can, particularly for the sunsets, which are the best i've seen so far. I'm no genius at photgraphy, neither was my camera awesome but here are some pictures I took recently.

App-centred Lives

2008-10-13T12:58:00.005+05:30

Most of my exams are over. In fact, I only have one left.

I was revising for math last night when my mind drifted off, as it is extremely prone to do, and I began thinking about how the lives of seventeen year olds (which I shall soon be, hopefully) are totally centered around college apps.

About 30 students (the number is probably more) from my batch are applying to the US/UK/Canada/Wherever else. Lunch conversations, long phone calls, debates, discussions and even dreams exponentially tend towards (yes, I just came back from a math exam) The App, who's applying where, who is going to get in and who isn't and multitudes of such topics. Dark circles are no longer caused by lack of sleep due to homework or partying, but from trying to start writing the 500 words that will (or will not) potentially get you into college, or from attemting to find out everything about a college (courtesy Google) or reading highly addictive articles, such as the MIT Admission Blogs, although the last part probably applies only to Yours Truly.

Greetings begin with "How's your app going?" instead of the much preferred "Hi." The most intriguing phenomenon however, is the continuous use of the phrase "OMG don't talk about Apps/Colleges". Why is this so particularly intriguing? Well, because in all irony of the world (yes, I love irony), all the speaker is dying to talk about is the very topic itself! This is probably what happens inside their head...

Unsuspecting, naive, concerned friend: Hey! How are your Apps going? Decided your colleges yet?

Victim of the College Board (henceforth referred to as Victim): OMG. Please don't talk about that!

*silently prays: Please Please Please ask me about my essay so I can ask you to read it. Maybe then we can discuss whether my List is good enough and whether I will get in anywhere or not, as you will tell me that I surely will and I will insist that my chances are as low as the survival of humankind beyong 2100. *

Friend: *believes Victim and genuinly feels bad* "Oh. Ok. Sorry. I'll talk to you later then. Relax ok?"

Victim: Why does this always happen to me??!! *use of multiple profanities* *reverts to his/her laptop/PC screen to empty his/her bank account in favour of "College Board" as the dreary life cycle continues*

You'd think that this is an exaggeration but let me assure you otherwise (the College Board reference for sure). Those of you who are like the Victim, you are probably cursing me for letting out your dear secret to the world but at the same time you must be glad, in the hope that you won't suffer a similar situation in the future. Those who are as yet uninitiated into this terrifying, yet glorious world, know now that this is what the future holds in store for you.

Now I must go and catch up on sleep before my books summon me for the last exam.

As a note for a future post, I'm working on a new poem titled The Thief. I like the way it's shaping up and I'll put it up here once it's done.

Vacuum

2008-10-05T01:30:00.003+05:30

When I opened my Physics textbook around an hour ago (it's 1:40 am right now), it didn't strike me that I had around twenty-something chapters to do. My naive brain assumed it to be a less intimidation 16-17. Hell no.

Now, you would think I dislike physics. Well, truth is, I don't. Not at all. I love the way explains everything and how it makes things just...fall into place!

But when I have to mug up half a two-and-a-half inch thick book for an exam, things get ugly. Particularly if you lose a mark for missing out words like 'vacuum' or 'unit length'. And considering that I have about 29 hours to go for the exam, guess who's not going to be sleeping tonight?

The only possible silver lining to this situation is that I'll wake up, or rather hopefull remain awake to see the sunrise. A friend of mine who lives close by agreed to go for a walk in the morning on Marine Drive, so that should be good.

Another SATurday

2008-10-04T13:52:00.003+05:30

So, I just gave my SAT Subject Tests about two hours ago. By now, the polka dotted answer sheets are probably, hopefully, being shipped to wherever they go every three months or so. How was it? Well, it was ok. A bit of a letdown maybe, but again, it's a test. By College Board. Which potentially decides whether you get into your 'Almost Dream College' or not, by analysing dots. What more can I say?

And now i have exams from Monday, starting with a three hour Physics paper. Life just gets better and better doesn't it?

See you soon. If my essential organs manage to survive.

Cheers.

Jee-Ech-Eye: What’s the point?

2008-09-25T15:49:00.002+05:30

Summer 2007 was different for me for a number of reasons. The one you should be concerned about, as I am going to take up a few minutes (depends on how fast you read) of your precious time as you read through this post, is that it was my first shot at ‘structured’ community service.

Having travelled across almost every part of India, I was no stranger to homeless children, and ragged clothes. The teaching part wasn’t that alien either; attempts at teaching my maid how to read English as a twelve year old came back to me as I saw the twenty odd kids, in various states of boredom, stare up at me. No, it was trying to make them stay put that made the entire initiative a daunting task.

The children were, to use a clichéd cliché, so similar, yet so different—from the dark and mysterious eyed Radhika, who refuses to stop smiling once you race with her, to the brown haired Sambhav—a twelve year old orphan who helps his brother run a small amusement ride at Chowpatty during the evenings and helps clean up at night. Only some of the children went to school. Most had dropped out in the fourth or the fifth standard. All of them knew the English alphabet, even if merely as a song. All, except for Sambhav.

So, being the person that I am, I decided that I would teach this disinterested boy how to read. It started with “ay-bee-see”, which was relatively easy as he vaguely remembered the sound from school. “Dee-eee-ef” proved to be a tad bit difficult and took an hour to put into place with the first three letters, an hour that ended the day’s work. To my dismay, we started next day at square one. With an hour to spare on the second day, we had just about managed to reach “jee”. After having recited “ay-bee-see-dee-eee-ef” about a million times, we finally moved on to “jee-ech-eye”.

This proved to be the Achilles heel of the entire activity. He could say the alphabet before The Deadly Trio and the ones after. Connecting the two parts was the problem. In all honesty, it was the most frustrating afternoon I had experienced till then (before the phenomenon called The-Mugging-Up-of-Organic-Chemistry-Equations came into our lives). In his parallel universe, “en” came after “ef” and this, like almost every thing else in any universe, seemed nearly impossible to change. Despite the heat and the obvious degeneration of interest after two days of learning twenty six squiggly figures, we ploughed on till one of us gave up. “ Kyaa pharak padta hai? “jee-ech-eye” se? bhook lagti hai. Jaye? (What's the point of "jee-ech-eye"? I'm hungry! Can I go?") he begged at the end of yet another recitation. The pathos and tragedy of the moment seemed to melt into the sweltering May heat, and yet I had no choice but to let him go.

I had had enough of “jee-ech-eye” to last me a lifetime, and so, I guessed, did he. He would probably never forget those three letters. Even if he forgot the remaining twenty three.

The First.

2008-09-14T23:37:00.000+05:30

I'm working on the blog. Give me a day or two.
Cheers.