Sunday, December 27, 2009
The ‘Parara’, with the prerequisite amount of pa’s is an add-on from me. I think it completes the line. Which otherwise kind of hangs. The number of “pa’s” is crucial. I think the ‘parara’ was at some point supposed to denote a trumpet. Or a tuba, whatever that instrument was. I’m not one of those people who play 10 different kinds of instruments and can simultaneously play the harmonica or whistle Beethoven’s fifth symphony with crackers in my mouth. Hang on, did he have a fifth symphony?
Yes, I am just That ignorant. And for some reason I display my ignorance on this blog. But I am learning. Right now I’m on the Beatles, some day I will reach Beethoven and maybe even the one who always reminds me of watercress sandwiches. Something with a C. Claudius? Cassius? No I’m pretty sure those are Shakespeare characters..DEBUSSY! Yes! Debussy! I was listening to Debussy the other day. I have no idea why he reminds me of watercress, but he does. My mind makes odd associations.
This is a random post because I have to somehow get back into writing mode post exams and absolutely Must rid myself of post-exam-anxiety/trauma-syndrome. This strange and Haw-some disease manifests itself in my daily life and drives me nuts. Pista nuts! ‘Cuz those are the ones I least prefer. Edible nuts by the way. Anyway, these days I’ll be watching a Gilmore Girls marathon and there will be the rumbly feeling in the pit of my stomach, which is not lack of food, ‘cuz I just had a lamb korma dish thing (very delish, dripping in oil). It’s the same sort of feeling that persistently haunted me throughout the first term of school (by which I Obviously mean university, pssht!) . It was the feeling that nagged me when I was loafing around on Facebook or reading ‘The Inscrutable Americans’ for the nth time instead of doing Early Transcendentals or learning the characteristics of methane producing Proteobacteria (and yes, for the less knowledgeable, there Are more than one kinds of bacteria – Behold my smug, smug smile). But the fact is that my exams have passed, so have I (results were out yesterday)- rather well in Early Transcendentals, if I do say so myself. So this feeling should have packed its bags and left by now. But it insists on hanging on like a needy ex who won’t stop mailing, at times when you’re trying to relax. Or like a persistent itch that you just canNOT reach. Speaking of ex’es. Last night I had this dream. Well, today morning, technically, since I have become a nocturnal animal. A late night partier, a Creature of the Night! Well, no, not really, actually it was talking on the phone till 4 a.m and watching Gilmore Girls reruns, but let’s ignore that part for the present. Anyway, so this dream. It involved myself taking two exams in a day, missing the first one, and running around in sheer terror looking for the location of the second one. Somehow I was running around in Jude this time however, which then transformed into a hospital. And then running into an ex of mine who told me in this conspiratorial whisper,”Did you know, I heard that someone was stupid enough to miss the first exam!”, accompanied with a gleeful smile. And then this ex proceeded to hit on another, may I add, unspectacularly pretty girl in the doorway of some blue painted door. Needless to say, it was Not a very nice dream. It must have been put together by a Boggart, since it preyed on my dislike of hospitals, my tendency to miss exams ( I missed my Physics final this term, Yes, it IS possible)and the sticky situation with the funny ex. And for those of you who do not know what a Boggart is, shame on you! Go read Harry Potter! I watched the sixth Harry Potter movie, by the way. I did Not like it and I’m glad I went for Kaminey instead. Ginny is too waif-like, and Harry’s expressions far too impassive. He should stick to humping horses, if you’ll excuse the crudeness.
Erm, now that I’ve told you about my dream, I shall proceed to tell you more riveting details about my incredibly fascinating life. I was ‘brb’ed today *shameful whisper* . Yes, I was. “brb” is something that I myself have done before, but never have I had it done to myself. It is something you do only strictly to ‘people-who-are-boring-you/ people-you-do-not-wish-to-talk-to’ and then shamelessly disappear for long intervals of time. So now I am ‘people- who-are-boring-you/ people-you-do-not-wish-to-talk-to’. I feel branded. Hester Prynne could not have felt more keenly the injustice and tragedy of her letter. Haw-ful !
I go now to learn how to bake chocolate brownies and decide between watching The Texas Chainsaw Massaccre and Sex and the City. Also to wash dishes. Anyone care to suggest remedies for the post-exam-anxiety- syndrome?
I just remembered this profound quote that somebody had said while with me, NOT to me. IT goes something like this: " Ooh! boobies!"