Saturday, July 20, 2013

The Hate List

The items on this list are not ranked in any specific order, because then it becomes too difficult to decide which one deserves first place. This is off the top of my head. If I sat and thought like Dumbledore, poring through the contents of the Pensieve, I'm sure this list would turn out to be a book.

1. Hypocrites
2. People who actively try to make me eat meat, since my body apparently needs it.
3. Slow Internet
4. No, sorry, that’s a blessing. I hate “No Internet Connection” even more.
5. Prejudiced people
6. Bigots
7. Fifty Shades
8. People who picked it up and plopped it on the Bestsellers shelf and left it there
9. Runny nose
10. Indian W/Cs
11. Washrooms with no soap (I ask you, WHAT is the point?)
12. When my writing s****
13. Summer (I lived in Dubai for 17 years. Self explanatory.)
14. Global Warming
15. Blood
16. Hospitals (but, I love hospital dramas. Go figure)
17. “Practical” people
18. Mutant bugs
19. Ok. Normal bugs
20. Who am I kidding? Anything with more or less than four legs
21. Forgetting things (I am terrified of it)
22. Crappy mattresses
23. Romances with tragic endings
24. Electricity blackouts

26. The fact that my mom can cook food that tastes like heaven, and I can’t make decent tea. Crappy DNA selection?
27. Commercial breaks
28. Commercials that make you go “I’m sorry, what?”
29. Scary supermodels (Now look here, I’m not objectifying anyone. Um, I’m just saying?)
30. The fact that this list would keep growing.

Friday, July 19, 2013

Clueless Meg Cabot Girls

I was introduced to Meg Cabot through The Princess Diaries. Therefore, I hated her. Come on, can you blame me?

But then, I accidentally came across the Mediator series and fell in love with it (actually more precisely Jesse, but for all practical purposes…) and decided to give her another chance. So I read Jinx, Airhead, Queen of babble, the Boy series, etc.

And I realized this. (Before you continue, know this- I don't really read romance. My only experience with this particular genre is through Cabot and Nicolas Sparks (ugh). So, this isn't exactly expert opinion)

Considering only the romantic segment in them, it’s got a predictable storyline. Girl meets Boy, a story runs in the background, Girl and Boy gets separated, Girl develops a crush on him, Boy in some way “unavailable” apparently, things keep getting complicated in the background, she finally emerges to be a hero, and poof! the boy of her dreams turns out to be in love with her, and has been forever, but she NEVER got it. Of course.

The setting changes. Boy is a ghost, a vampire, Girl a supermodel, a mediator, a nerd, both in high school, etc.
But, she NEVER gets it.

Face it, Cabot is playing mind games with us poor girls. She is telling us that eventually the guy we are having a crush on (in my case, all of them are pieces of someone else’s imagination, modified by me) would eventually turn out to be in love with you as well.

Girl: So listen, I know that Jane Doe is not talking/has another boyfriend/ran off with someone else. But don’t lose heart. She’ll eventually find her way back to you.
(aside mentally) I AM KILLING MYSELF!
Boy: !
Girl: Why are you looking at me like that?
Boy: (moves closer) I don’t want her. I always wanted you. How come you never got that?
Girl (dazed) What? No! You like her! You told me so!
Boy: (moving still closer) No, you assumed so.
Dialogue that makes you want to replace the heroine with yourself follows. Boy and Girl stares into each other’s eyes. Steamy kiss follows.
And everyone lives happily ever after.
(Except for the Queen of babble series. I’m saving it to use some space in blogsville to vent out about it later. Oh, sure. *nods head vigorously*)

Damn it woman. David Archuleta won’t EVER have this conversation with me.
Or the guys I mentioned in a previous blog post.

To girls everywhere that their love is always requited, at least in Meg Cabot fashion,

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

A Case of Identity Theft

Clicking a picture for ID cards is always messy. The end results are always the same. Somehow, the camera shutter captures the moment my carefully constructed face pulls off a stunt. When I get my ID cards my reaction always is:

That. Is. Not. Me.

School ID cards were hideous. I chalked it up to the following:
a) Their camera was ancient
b) My classmates in the queue in front of me never failed to make faces
c) The department went enthusiastic with Photoshop. They applied blush for some of us, darkened some, and brightened some.
d) The photographer bunked his class on patience.

Then came our Emirates ID cards. I kept trying to figure out what to expect next, all through the biometrics when the lady, pointing to some contraption perched on her pc said, “Look here”.

So I did.

When the ID card came, my sympathy was with the government. If I robbed a bank, and dropped my card there, they would never catch me. Then again, if they did catch me, they needn’t take a thug shot of me. I carry it around in my purse.

I came to India and I thought, “Ok, maybe I can start over”. Nope, no such luck.

We had to enter some data in the lab. When we came out, they told us to write our ID numbers monstrously big on an A4 sheet and hold it up. We were the first ones out. We had to pose in groups of three. In my defense, I had no idea what they were for. So we fell about in hysterical laughter clutching the paper. The photographer got pissed and snapped anyway.

When the IDs came, I consoled myself saying next year I can pose much better. So no big deal, right? Then I happened to see this:

Valid till July 2016.

Please note: In case I die and the college wants to hold a condolence ceremony, there are much better photos of me on FB. I really don’t want to die again of mortification.

Then came the Aadhar card photo shoot, here. This time I knew what to expect. So when the lady said, “Look here”, I made my face smile, and looked deep into the camera pinhole.

No click.

Then my sister screamed my name. I swiveled my head.


WHAT? NO! I looked back into the camera.


I stared into the camera,  desperately wishing for another click that never came.

At least, I got this photo instantaneously, and therefore an instantaneous pronouncement that I wasn’t 18, but close to 35. My family ended up arguing who came the worst off. I was second worst. Guess who took the first place.

Let’s just say my sister got the punishment she deserved. Apparently her intentions were totally innocent. “I just wanted to remind you to smile”, she whined.

But I'm still mad at her.

Hopefully, yours in fellowship,

Monday, July 15, 2013

Guys who made it to The List

So, this here is the proof of me being the hopeless romantic that I am. Knock yourselves out. Not one of them exists in flesh and blood. *sighs* Unfortunately.

1. Mr. Darcy (Pride and Prejudice)- you will always remember your first love. What I like about him is that he changed for Lizzy. he wanted to deserve her. what's the point of falling in love with a guy who is already perfect if you won't complete him?

2. Augustus Waters (The Fault in our Stars)- WHAT THE HELL. WHAT THE HELL? How dare you kill him off, John Green? The moment I opened the book, I knew he was the one going to die. I mean, obviously. But, I fell in love with him. He is witty, look at the bright side type, smart and a guy evidently in love. Ugh. Usually I like a book because of the strength of the female character. This book was an exception.

3. Jesse d'silva (The Mediator)- *swoons* spanish - says a lot of "querida", extremely hot, but doesn't seem aware of it, extremely jealous of other guys, very helpful and thinks the girl jumps head first into dangers and thus very brave, loves her guts, and hates her for it. oh, and he is a ghost.

4. Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson series)- Greek demigod- son of Poseidon, powers: hurricanes and other hazardous powers with his element water. Witty, obtuse, and his hubris is doing ANYTHING for people he loves. And, did I already say Greek demigod?

5. Ian O'Shea (The Host) - Able to see a person right to her soul (very, very literally) and not look through prejudiced eyes, and hides a very gentle and KIND soul in his big physique.

6. Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games)- Read the ENTIRE series.

7. Sam Temple (The Gone series)- He is such an imperfect character. He is a hero, but not someone who is insensitive to people around him and breaks down often under responsibilities he undertook himself. Moreover, he is able to make tough decisions for the greater good, even though he beats himself up later for it. I like him with all his flaws.

8. Magnus Bane (The mortal instruments, the infernal devices)- Okay. So, I know he is not the hero. And he is, as he puts it, "a freewheeling bisexual". But, he is so in love with Alec, he even considers stripping himself off of immortality. And he does everything for free for Alec's friends and doesn't resent it. He bears Alec's suspicions on his fidelity. He is EXTREMELY witty (I have a thing for witty guys), smart, funny, and takes life as it comes. But then he reaches a breaking point with Alec and also tells him that he would never fall out with love with him for the rest of eternity. Sob!

9. Will Herondale and James Carstairs ( The Infernal Devices) AARGH!!! THIS IS SO MUCH TORTURE!!!! I AM IN LOVE WITH THEM BOTH!!!

Just-kill-me-now-ingly Yours,

The Regurgitating-inator

Incase you are wondering about the title, it's Phineas and Ferb inspired. You know, the show Phineas and Ferb. Well if you have seen it, you would understand. I love that show.

But I am not writing this to rave about kid shows but rather to talk a bit at length about my brain. Yes, my brain (I can almost visualize that look on your face). Now, I am going to have to take help from your imagination. Imagine a trashcan. It's filled with rotten stuff, stuff you wouldn't care about. Now, if it is a trashcan and is a very responsible one at that, it would take care to keep it's "priceless" contents buried within itself, and take its secrets to the landfill. What would happen if such a trashcan crossed a vacuum cleaner that blows things out instead of sucking it?

You get my brain.

Some wise guy said that he imagined his head as some sort of a filing cabinet, very organized, neat and informative. Well, mine's not. It's filled with the most useless kind of information (and incidentally, did you know that pigeons can do math?) and it is gifted at shooting these useless scraps of information at some poor souls who have had the misfortune to be listening to me (for more details, refer previous blog post), like some horrible travesty of a cat coughing up fur balls. But I don't do it all the time. And I am not saying this to assuage my guilt ridden conscience either. Some of the stuff I come out are quite useful. I have a tendency to remember pieces of delicious gossip (but I don't gossip, heavens no!), but for some sad reason, I cannot, for the life of me, remember what my Chemistry textbook tells me about the p - block elements. And I seriously don't care. I don't see the point in learning a million different ways to make the same compound, as I have told anybody who would care to listen, since it does not make my life any happier. My brain simply refuses to bother storing something as useless as that. No, it stores things that bother no one else. Remember me saying that people don't know half the time what I am talking about? Yeah, they might talking about something very innocent and something they say sends my head into an overdrive spilling information (I use the word "information" for want of a better word) mostly relating to stuff in Physics. Oh, and by the way, you might want to check out the Many Worlds Theory -it explains a lot of things, even though many scoff at it. But you know what? It gives people the mistaken impression that I am intelligent and good at physics, and I have been brandishing my test papers at their faces, giving them solid proof that I am not. I want to write an anecdote here, though ( I hope you haven't shut down your computer yet thinking "What the hell is she writing?"). In one of my exams, they asked to describe the working of a potentiometer when it is trying to measure the internal resistance of a cell. I wrote one page describing how exactly a decent potentiometer has to work in such a case, even drawing a potentiometer circuit that looked nothing like the one in the textbook. And I got 2 and a half out of 3 for it. Obviously, I showed everyone my answer script and absolutely gloried in their shocked reactions. Zoubia even pointed out to me indignantly that I didn't have the resistance box in my circuit (shame). Like I cared. I preserved the paper in any case to keep reminding myself that I am not altogether useless. Anyways, I spend two hours the next chance I got learning everything about potentiometers.

But here's another thing. I don't remember my cell number. Every time someone asks me, I recite it and get slightly muddled up, looking at Soorya for help. And she'd give me a slightly exasperated, slightly amused expression each time and helps me out. What sort of a person doesn't remember her own phone number?

Yours Doofenshmirtz-ly,
(sorry, too lazy to check the spelling)

Yours Truly

I am 18 years old. Female. Belongs to the species Homo Sapiens Dementa. Unfortunately, I am no witch, shadowhunter, vampire, caster, Greek/Roman/Egyptian demigod, princess, wanted thief, or mediator. Didn't find any magical wardrobe, never got reaped for the Hunger Games (uh, I'm not complaining too much about that), was never classified Divergent, never found any egg that could possibly be a dragon's, and Gandalf never came knocking at my door.

Therefore, my life is as colourful as my uniform (FYI, it's a yucky green and black).

Question #1: Why this blog then?
Please refer my blog's subtitle.

My mode of escapism, if you haven't already guessed, is reading. My hair reflects my character. I like to think of it as Hermione Granger hair (nope, no one tells otherwise).

Some people avoid me because they think I'm contagious. But then there are absolute gems who belong to the same species as I. We crack a joke, we laugh, and any outsider who happens to have the absolute misfortune of being incuded in the said group, wonders if the insane is the new sane, and says nothing.

Question #2: Ok, so why this blog?
Alright, it's because:
a) My BFF Caroline inspired me to
b) She told me to
c) I liked the idea of spray painting blogsville with my thoughts
d) I wanted to

Yours Truly

Add your graffiti here before you leave; this wall needs all the colour it can get. And check back, I always reply as promptly as the wifi allows me to. ;)