Happy new year, y'all. Here's to one more shot to get it right, one more chance to turn it all around and one more year that falls under the category of interesting times.

2011, here we come. :)

I live, I laugh. I turn into other people; mostly I stay me. Sometimes I absolutely refuse to turn into anything. I lie, I eat, I stuff my face with 2-bite brownies, I turn into a size 2. I have never been a size 2 in my life, I have never felt so asexual tape-wormish in my life. What is happening to my world? I let my books gather dust, I drag them around and dog-ear them, I rough-house but not once do I dig in. Organic is an ugly word. Your FACE is an ugly word. I run into memories. I turn this blog into whatever I want it to be. Of late, it seems to be going the same way 'Glee' is going- Downhill.

It’s funny how the same person that can make you cringe and roll your eyes can also make you long for the safety of their embrace and the refuge of the nonsensical and funny. It’s funny what nostalgia and loneliness can do. How second-guessing becomes second nature. When the chinks in your armour show, and when people get too close for comfort- it’s funny how the very people who used to Be your armour are the ones you’d do anything to shield yourself from. Pity, surprise, remorse, relief. Emotional wastelands. This is just a collection of words, a feather of sighs and the sunset on a day satiated with emptiness. This is two bottles of Xanax and three hazelnut shots too much. This is the story of a life untold. Reversed. Repolarised. Redundant.

Borrowed words

"Hold my head inside your hands
I need someone who understands
I need someone, someone who hears
For you, I've waited all these years
 For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come
Until my day, my day is done
And say you'll come and set me free
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me"

"Things they do look awful c-c-cold (Talkin' 'bout my generation) 

I hope I die before I get old"

"If there's a god up there

Something above
God shine your light down here
Shine on the love
Love of the loveless"

"Excuse me too busy you're writing your tragedy                

These mishaps
You bubble-wrap
When you've no idea what you're like

So, let go, let go
Jump in
Oh well, what you waiting for?
It's all right
'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown"

"Dancin' where the stars go blue 

Dancin' where the evening fell 
Dancin' in your wooden shoes 
In a wedding gown 
Dancin' out on 7th street 
Dancin' through the underground 
Dancin' little marionette 
Are you happy now? 
Where do you go when you're lonely 
Where do you go when you're blue 
Where do you go when you're lonely 
I'll follow you 
When the stars go blue "

Real life mimicking art/ entertainment mimicking real life?
I feel like so much of the conversation we have, or at least that I have with my friends or acquaintances or you know- people with half a brain, seems like it could belong in a sitcom. With a laugh-track thrown in. The witty comments, the hilariously dumb moments, the aww- times, the over the top whines. That kind of stuff. And when conversations are different or quirky or ABSAlootly outrageous, you feel this sense of accomplishment. Something along the lines of- "we're so special, we have such special lines, nobody else in the world could come up with this stuff, we crack us up, our lives should be a movie, cuz we're cool like that". Not that we'd admit this, or even really think it, save in that smug little glowy corner of our brain. All the quirkiness, out-of-the-ordinary-ness, being your own person- all of that. There is SO much of it going around, quirky is kind of like a 'thing' now, it's become a trend. And the more people come out of the closet, so to speak and the more 'individual' they become, the less 'special' it is. As I grow older, especially now, I start understanding Catcher in the Rye better. And I don't think empathizing with the sentiments of the protagonist really bodes well.

"and the more they are the different, the more they are the same"

I think too much, I know. I'm not saying people should stop trying to be individual. I'm just trying to figure out what individuality might mean in a larger context, really. On a different note, I went to Counselling Services today for some help on majors and focus and stuff like that. In the form I had to fill out, I added depression as one of the issues. So when I'm leaving after submitting the form, the lady comes to me with this concerned and very markedly kind expression on her face. "This problem you've mentioned", she says, pointing at my inconspicious yellow form. "How are you Feeling right now? Are you-" I interrupted her before she got all het up. "Oh no, I'll live". At this she looked even more alarmed, so I reassured her saying that I wasn't suicidal or anything. It made me laugh at the time.

Lastly, on Wednesday morning, which was Hell day considering the TWO godawful midterms I had (Organic Chem and Molecular Biol), I discovered that I'd forgotten my money at home and my Watcard was out of funds. Delirious with hunger, and after some hemming and hawing I decided to ask the librarian if I could borrow 5 bucks from the library and explained the situation. The evil woman looked at me and very firmly said that no, they couldn't have that here. My friends weren't anywhere around and I had to live in the library till 5:45 and the Biol exam. Clearly, I couldn't study on an empty stomach. This stubbly guy standing around the desk offerred to lend me his Watcard and refused to let me pay him back. The fact that the people at Timmy's thought I'd stolen the Watcard because I am not a bearded brown guy, is a different story. Usman Asaf, I don't think I'll ever bump into you again, but THANKYOU. Good samaritans really Do exist :)
Also, I love my ex boyfriend. Being called bitch has never made me laugh as much or feel so comforted. And no, I'm not telling you which one.

mad scientist- i was in the university paper

I am the Eggman

Deathly exhausted. Bile hovering somewhere in between throat and mouth. Dizzy unfocused bleary gaze at the blue glow of the laptop. A pounding in the head getting incrementally larger in magnitude. 'Duniya' from Dev D playing, the "jee, jee, jeejeejee" performing a strange loop-the-loop in my head. Now it's "She fucking hates me". Bless Puddle of Mudd for coming up with "She fucking hates me" and following it up immediately with "la la la la". This song always makes me chuckle and grimace simultaneously. It could have described the situation with Dissy down to a T. Only, I have a feeling that somewhere in that head of his (which doesn't understand simple concepts like sometimes, just Sometimes, you ought to actually answer a question) he would say the same about me. Now it's "Angel" by Dave Matthews Band. Aaaand my first proper meal of the day is ready. The microwave has beeped, Kraft Dinner Mac n Cheese is done. God bless KD, God bless Dave Matthews and most of all, God bless Terry Pratchett for creating this wonderful world which I'm about to sink into with my Mac n Cheese.

Classic comfort no, this? Mac n Cheese, Terry Pratchett and peppy music.

the perpetual look on my face these days, wincing at assignments and exams and Job-frikkin-mine.
So attractive, no?

this is a very trippy image. i like it, i like it very much. i feel this way half the time. kinda cool when you think about it.

P.S: I need French songs to listen to while studying (I don't know French). Recommendations?

We're both from The Great White North- only I listen to Maeri

If I were to write a story right now, it would go something like this:
Once, there lived a girl whose head exploded. Before that she ate sausages. Then her head exploded. The End.
(The "The End" would have to be in twirly letters like they always are at the end of fairytale books and Disney Stories). So I won't. I want to write, but I can't. I would like to dress up for Halloween, I don't know yet if that's going to be happening. I want to get over this state of inertia and I want my Facebook password back. :( I think I'm undergoing Facebook withdrawal symptoms. Loser, I. Unhappy loser. No, not really, I suppose. Just, inert, and in my case there's nothing noble about it (Inert, noble, geddit, geddit? No? Come onnnn! It's a Chemistry joke! *sigh* never mind). I wish things would come clear, as I wish the papers would end or that something would HAPPEN to shake me out of this unproductive glazed sort of monotony. Urgh! Dispassionate this, and detached. Food must stop. Like yesterday. *cue to sigh again*
Sometimes I wish I were a nun. Or 25 and already done with this crap. Just someone, somewhere, FAR away, calm, serene and happy. CONTENT. That would be nice. I watched 'Nanook of The North' directed by Robert Flaherty with Ma on Saturday after much cajoling (I'm not a huge fan of silent films- the 2 that I have watched- 'Birth of a Nation' and 'Intolerance' actually lulled me to sleep). I had a midterm on it anyway so we watched it, Ma curious and me, prepared to be bored. On the contrary it was a BEAUTIFUL movie. Some Really lovely scenes and his smile! Good God, I don't think I've ever seen a smile of such innocence, such undiluted pure JOY. I literally smiled back every time he did. It was impossible not to. Ma said it was because of his being a simple person. Right about now that sounds very Very good to me. Being in The Great White North in Hudson Bay, hunting seals, overpowering huskies and making sure you and your family didn't starve pretty much Does cut down things to basics. No time to moon, or worry or obsess when you don't know if you're going to have enough food to get you through the week. Nanook was an excellent hunter and a loving parent it seemed- there was this scene in the movie where he was teaching his young son how to use a bow and arrow, won't try to put it into words. It was just one of those scenes from the movie that stuck with me. His wife, Nyla with the naked baby tucked into her fur hood. All of the family, shedding the hides and skins and curling up beneath a great blanket-type thing, Nyla bare chested, her long big breasts, hanging loose. Completely unselfconscious. The little boy with his tiny husky puppy, cradling him against his chest. The fight for dominance between the leader husky and an aggressive mutineer. The frustrated manic snapping of the wolf who longed to sink his teeth into the massive rolls of seal blubber but had to watch chained as Nanook and his family scarfed it down, like animals, after a week of starvation licking clean the flippers and blood. Nanook's happy face peering out of the igloo door and his SMILE. Watch the movie.

trying to pull the struggling seal ashore

fascinated by the record player; he bites it a few times in his curiosity

nanook puts his child's hands to his cheeks to warm them

nyla and Her husky

nanook. almost smiling. i wish i had a proper picture.

I almost wish I was Nanook but not really. He died of starvation. So. And, no, I haven't given away any spoilers- it isn't that kind of a film. So the weekend ends. Tomorrow I get my Organic Chem paper back. Jesus.

Someone slap me. Quick!

I want to fall in love. Not the unrequited variety.
Maybe I'm in 'nyaka'-girl mode right now, or maybe it's just that ache in that place you feel someone needs to fill up- just so that you can Breathe. Like strong, deep, Safe breaths. (Oh, and for the people sniggering at previous line, NO, I'm NOT talking about literal places to be filled up. T.R this means You. Heh.)
But honestly, at the risk of sounding terribly naive and preteen-girl-with-alternate-pink-and-black-nailpolish- ish, I'm going to try and explain what I mean. Maybe if I put it down on paper, so to speak, I'll realize I'm being ridiculous. Hopefully.
I've been in love before. But back then it was mostly because I was stupid. My head was in the clouds and well, my heart was in somebody else's hands as Dawson's Creek puts it. Yeah, I loved Dawson's Creek- that should probably be enough of an indicator. Now I'm rambling like always, but I'll go on cuz it's been a while since I've written anything substantial and cuz I really really need to express this to myself.

Anyway so obviously, the whole high-school love story didn't work out for various reasons (Rachel and Ross 'on a break', anyone?). Which was..actually a good thing, though it didn't seem so at the time (and the two years after that in the intervals when I wasn't busy being mad and psychotically whiny). I dated other guys, most of whom have been awesome people, none of whom have worked out- obviously since I'm writing this. Had some really fun and some really shitty times along the way. I've broken hearts and gotten my own heart broken into teeny tiny scrape-it-off the-ground-and-try-to-sellotape-it-back-together-pieces. I've been through all of that. I've gone from being a floating hopeless romantic to being a disillusioned bitter cynic and finally now, to being a cynic who can't stop longing for something she fears doesn't exist.
It's irrational, I know. It's a little spineless, I know. You're supposed to feel complete within yourself. You're supposed to be satisfied with the unconditional love of your family and the best friends you were unbelievably lucky enough to find. You're Supposed to be cool with being the strong independent quirky chick who was ambitious enough to put her career before everything that was safe, and warm and lovely. I mean, it was Your decision, don't you remember? Thing is, I'm not. I'm not cool with it. There's probably something very fundamentally wrong with that- for crissake, even the Pussycat Dolls have a song titled "I don't need a man (to make me happy. ha-aoo-ha-aoo-aah!)". BUT there it is.
I miss the feeling of wild abandon. I miss the feeling of being so abso-fricken-lutely certain that at the end of the crappiest day-when your world is going to pieces, your hairdresser turned out have a Rihanna obsession, you missed your Physics exam and your parents think you've turned into an anarchist- a single phone call will fix it all. Just hearing that voice reassuring you, or falling into that embrace makes you feel like it's going to be okay. Illogical, yes. True, also yes.
I miss having someone to associate all them songs with. Why don't they warn you, that those feelings that rushed to you when you first heard them and fell in love, are always going to stay, even when there isn't a face to fill your dreams with? I miss the Safety that having a pair of arms around you affords. I miss having someone to fill in the gaps between my fingers. I miss dwindling away the hours in quiet happiness. I miss feeling like I'm That incredibly important. I miss Having someone to feel that way about. I miss caring about someone with that kind of intensity.
I'm older now and probably not very wise but I know that love can't be built on just "I love you"s without any foundation or similarities as a base. I know that it isn't all about the butterflies in your stomach but I also know that the butterflies are important. I know that you can't mould a friend into a lover anymore than you can command a caterpillar to take flight. I know it isn't all sweetness and light and I know about the boredom and monotony that sets in with any long-term relationship. I know that happy marriages are few and far in between. I wonder if growing old together- and not because you have a family, or because it's safe or because you're used to it- but just because you Want to is even possible. Even so. Despite the commitment phobia, and despite the low boredom threshold, I still intrinsically want someone. Is this social conditioning or is it an intrinsic human need? Is it just my own inadequacies? I don't know.
I'm a bundle of contradictions and I'm probably a prime example of a corny cliche that has existed since time immemorial. Blame it all on these songs. I've been listening to them quite a bit.
1)Kaate nahi raat- Ustaad Sultan Ali Khan http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SAWvlqsUzNM&feature=related
2)Wicked game- Chris Isaak http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-oaHHrNQVrg
3)She's got you high-  Mumm-rah http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GKypqSL49Pg&ob=av3n

anuj & i - summer 2010

and as the night moves on

colors blur

and our brains come oozing out

of nooks 

and crannies-

with iridescent hues

skeletons of souls poking out

glowy.

Lessons for the Day

#1 Check how hot the water is BEFORE turning on the water heater and turning the tap.

#2 NEVER give your sleazy relatives you have a gut allergic repulsion to, your best friend's number.

#3 Don't leave your French book in a different continent. You might just land up with a French foreign exchange student for a house-mate who barely speaks or understands English.

#4 Don't sign a 1 year lease for the smallest room in the house without registering actually How small they mean when they say small. It May just turn out to be pantry sized.

#5 A full glass of Red Wine is a bad idea when you're suffering from Jetlag and moving in the next day- with your mum for company.

#6 Going Bohemian appearance-wise can justify almost any normal fashion must-not.

#7 Self- restraint, especially when it comes to a smart mouth is a good policy and may just reward you with carrot cake with cheesecake topping.

#8 Sometimes really really obese women are really Really REALLY good cooks.

#9 Jetlag sucks and coffee- immunity doesn't help.

#10 Abba and John Dever induce nostalgia. Even if you aren't a major fan.

Ok WHAAAT?

i don't know what to write. i will probably delete this post later, but for now im trashing my own blog. more clutter. there is SOO much clutter everywhere. cleaning up room is pointless cuz brother transforms it into a seedy weedy jungle within a day. JONGLI bachha i tell you! but this is the last month in which im sharing a room, so itisokay. for now. clutter in life also. lesson # 1: learn to let go. will do, will do, doing. everything is in future tense by about EXACTLY 5 minutes. lethAAARGY. like some monster slowly creeping up and then LOOK BEHIND YOU! but it's already eaten you up and you're in its digestive sys-TUM. look, look, salivary amylase aka SPIT!! look, look trypsin, looklook, emulsification. im a biochem student, yuss i am.
epiphanies happen. good family weekend happens. this includes piu. mother's birthday happens. HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY! i put this in caps because the more significant event on 15th in household was mamma's birthday. more important in the grand scheme of things, heehee, snicker. cousin sister visits after a year, all of four years old, twirling and singing, making me teach her ballet. i decide to call her aisha and consequently have to spend the ext two hours dancing with her and singing "Suno Aisha" from that movie. Whatta bakwaas movie that. Side effect # 1. want to PARTAY! Side effect # 2. Want to get hot body and wear high heels and Chanel. Side Effect # 3. Want cute guy with a dimple. This means YOU. Abhay Deol, DUH.
timeisrunningout. and before you know it i'll be at the end of this sentence. and before you know it i'll be at the end of summer. and before you know it, i'll be far far away. but before that come mundane important things like finances and cooking and packing. and goodbyes.
i've become FAAAT. like its not even funny, i fit into mamma's clothes. and i struggle to fit into jeans. MUM calls me football now, and when That happens you know you're ear-deep in shit. but still i eat- biriyani, yummy egg curry from alladin. orgasmic kulfi faluda from ganguram. luchi cholar daal breakfast. kochuri and cholaar dal at dakhineswar. creamy chingri maacher malai curry and dhone pata dawa chicken and mutton kheema  kabab and orange stick ice cream and butterscotch ice cream and pepsi and chicken pakoda and musurir daal with halka lebu and tomato'r chutney at tuku aunty, deep-dia's. black forest cake, chocolate mud cake, R-maach, eilish maach and chicken curry.payesh and mutton patties. then momo's with piping hot light soup, chilli sauce and stir fried pasta with shrimp. bacardi. red wine. at shoma pishi's. all this over the weekend. friday, saturday, sunday. BYAAS. i am turning into Putu.
everything is going Nanana when it should really be Hahaha. i think i'm getting contacts today. i think i'm probably writing like someone else, but randomness is comforting the way an old fuzzy blanket is comforting, the way an old good-friend-ex is comforting, the way a soft fluffy pillow is. i have two new books to read, that i've wanted to- On Beauty by Zadie Smith, and Vine of Desire by Chitra Bannerjee Divakaruni. I reread Dorian Gray, did not help the dissatisfaction. I have friends waiting for me at JU but i don't even know why i go there. something is missing, but it's going away, it's okay. i shall drag butt off to take long shower. then Ponds powder and the Freshness. i love you Blog. I'm sorry I don't have much to say.

So far, so good?

Lost phone. Again. 2nd phone in 2 months and this was all antique-y. I'm starting to sound like one of them spoilt rich kids, I don't like it.
Met people who would intimidate me for no good reason. Funny how people who you thought seemed 'ohsocool' cuz of the zillion pictures back then puzzle you now as to where their appeal lies.
Family friends. Pictures. Prank Calls. Foooooood.
One nice evening in Jude. No 29, thank God. Music, general retardedness (have you ever noticed how weird ears are? They kinda look like misplaced trumpets), joint passed around (watched didn't take. Yet.), Sujith Da's cha. Roti, chilli chicken.
Called someone Turnip-head. Because you know the top of their head is flat and they just have That vibe.
Listened to friggin SEXAY song that I think you should go listen to Right now. Undisclosed desires by Muse. The beat is Something. Like a loop the loop playing over and over in my head, giving rhythm to my hips, making me bop my head in the street, much to the amusement of the chyangras on the road. Oh, and while you're at it. check out the lyrics. Unexpectedly sweet for such a slick-ish song.
Had Kulfi-Faluda for the nth time with Boy who looks like evil, but didn't display too many such tendencies this time. Perhaps it had something to do with the presence of Loopy Upi.
Resolved to stop swearing worse than a chotolok man. Haven't succeeded with that so far.
Guillotined the sweetest cutest little Swiss Albino rat at the workplace. Played with it, watched it take a crap, made it unconscious with Halothane so that, you know, it dies in a humane way and then picked up its tiny little furry body with blue surgical gloves. Placed it neatly on the stealy bladeof the mini guillotine and brought down the blade with precision. Once. Oops, little skin there, twice. Picked up headless body, discarded in bright yellow plastic bag. Presented head to Sms Poetry Da so that he could remove and slice up its brain.
All in the name of Science, y'know. Was slightly shocked at how less the first time I killed an actual living mammalian creature disturbed me. Cockroaches don't count right, they're too tiny and have too much antennae to inspire affection or feeling. White adorable rat? Headless rat once you're done with it? Didn't really affect me, went home, told Ma and watched her face go white as she went "You could kill actual people! How could you?". I suspect I'm a tad inhumane. Heartless, like Kanye said. Dayum.
Perhaps in payback, the Spice used me as her guinea pig as she experimented with make-up on my face. Smoky eyes, a touch of lipstick.Foundation, mascara, lipliner, eyeliner, kohl, compact, blusher, killer boots. Didn't look like myself when she was done, but I liked it, hell yeah. Heartbreak when we went out to Vivekananda Park for a smoke and the make-up melted away.
Wife got a tattoo. So did Wife's boyfriend, the Boudi. I want one too, but I don't want it on a whim and I'm not sure having a tattoo inspires much faith in your professionalism when you're aiming to be a scientist. I WANT a tattoo or a third piercing, but I don't know what to get or where to get it.
Resolved to lose weight, eat healthy, give up on a Kulfi-Faluda a day. Exercise. Brother decided to help me do it right, and we spent an hour locked in our room with him insisting that sit-ups were Totally useless and implementing military training, footballer workouts on me till I screamed with agony and Baba came running in demanding to know why he was murdering me.
Last 3 days at work. I'm going to miss everyone, but SO looking forward to having some time off. Learning how to cook, spending time with the gramps, getting things in order. Ignoring Canada which is set to become a reality pretty soon. Don't. Want. To. Think. About. It.
Need to get rid of Peter Pan Syndrome and grow up at some point. Need to be nicer to people.
Succeeded sort of in stopping obsessing about weird pseudo carpe diem thing which just Does Not get any better. Sequels are such a bad idea. Soil even memories of perfection. Come August, come resolution, for now things are standing still.
Afterthought- Pseudo singlehood ain't half bad, preparation, goodonly.
Watched Inception. With Ma. Silver class, good GOD, those chairs. Extravagance. Still like Dark Knight better.
Played with Elsa. And Lucky. And Rover. And Chuti. If only I could be surrounded by doggies and babies I'd be happy. For a while, probably.
Idle fantasies, self destructiveness. What? Why? Cynical hopeless romantic. Eyuckhh. Still, still, STILL WRITER'S BLOCK!

Running after shadows
Scouring off the rust
Clinging fast to dreams
As they slowly turn to dust.

Words once lightly spoken
Still echo on the breeze
Carrying over miles-
And miles and piles of memories.

Playing at creation
Making mockery of sense
Soiling now the fantasies,
And recollection of past tense.

Time flies, goodbyes
Helloes and 'how are you's
Running round in circles,
Futility, greys and blues.

Abruptness is one ending
Unfinished is a word
Fleeting time is just one problem,
Exhaustion's another I've heard.

okay, so I love you, right? you know that, darling. but i'm just Slightly bored. i still love you, of Course.but the monotony is killing me, to look at you even Once more would be cruel cuz it'd be destroying the magic of how you captivated me when we first met. i'd still like to remember you. low boredom threshold shall probably be the death of me, but oh well. if its not, running after the unattainable shall surely do the trick. u shall have your revenge then. till then, you stay suspended in time, my Morning Dream.
Right here.
With me.

I'm in a very Gah mood. ghidkdfgkfjgp ffdjgkhfdkhg. Bleh.
Just. Go. Explode.
Need fresh air, need space for grey cells to inhale deeply. NEED SPACE.
Need intimacy. Need clarity. Need to be detached yet warm and caring.
Need to stop being contradictory.
gjdhgm. gjhglh. Bleuaargh.

BLEAURGH!

Someone leave me good music suggestions please? Genre no bar.

Yore.
Isn't yore a funny word? Yore yore yore. Yoreyoreyoreyore!

I always thought 'loofah' was pretty strange too. Loooooo faaaaaah!

Does anyone else know any funny words? Pliss oblige.
Okbye.

Sometimes I feel like my life is more about the people in it.

You are my leetle stud muffin, with a single dimple and twinkly scrinkly eyes to boot. *scientist, i wish i could tell you i'm tired of mindgames*
You are my cherry pie sweet, my scrumptious heartbreak, with witty, sarcastic retorts thrown in.
You are my separated-at-birth sister, Invictus- with untamed tresses and love for all things rabid.
You, you are my yellow light, my would-be knight- with mad love for stones and fixes.
You are my soul-twin, the Other square peg among the Cappis, with the genuine happy-wise-Youness you possess with quiet confidence.
you are inconsequential now, thankgod.
You are my conscience, the one I never quite grow out of, the pseudo mother, the only Real Christian I know.
You were my angel, the Earnest, the uncomplicated, my darling infuriating Book-thief.
You are the one I Did outgrow, sappy phone conversations bore; sweet, you stabbed me with a smile (and oh help you God, you didn't even know). I don't know how to tell you so.
You are the strange, the wonderfully weird, all these terms you impose on yourself; the awkwardly kind, standing forever on the fringes, plunging straight in all the while- I hope you break through.
You are unconditional exasperating concerned judgemental anxious strong love- with moddhobitto Rabindranath-jora, individual values.
you're inconsequential too! well, nearly there except sudden twinges for what seemed to/could have been. sudden patches of bonding. there can't be a back to before again, but maybe anew ain't a bad thing.
you're the one i thought was SObloodyCOOL. Then I grew up- 'killer' biceps tho bro, and the pay package don't hurt either, amidst the hookah smoke.
You two are old fusspots in your own ways- love, worry, love *kichu khao, na khele bhalo lagey na!*
You're gorgeous and you look exactly how I always dreamed of looking, with in your face confidence to boot. Your self assurance and ability to be vulnerable to adorable stoner-puppy are your most attractive features.
You're the classic friend, to whom I spill way too much for no good reason- with Chandleresque tendencies to boot (if he came 6 ft tall with a ribbon on him).
You're candyfloss- if it came tinged with blue. So sweet, and So upset by Tiny things- I'd like to shake you and tell you to grow up, but then you wouldn't be You anymore.
You are my Simple, moddhobitto, Bhalo, normal (with an assured steady future) sister-from-below. I'd hate you if I didn't love you, you know.
You are the crazy one, the crazy-smart and the crazy-pretty one, and you're leaving your insecurities behind. You're growing up, love, and you'll Never grow up, thank God. We'll always be 14 in some ways.
You are the living proof that boys and girls- well men and women now- can Totally be best friends. The Only one back then who got what 'asphyxiating' meant and Why that was a big deal. My hairier, skinnier Mallu Twin, we've probably spent more time together online than anything.

Yes, I'm having writers block right now. But this is MY blog and I shall be John Mayer inspired "Who Cares" typer.

How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We're just two lost souls swimming                 in          
              a  
          fish bowl,
                  year after year

Because the things you say and the things you do surround me                  

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                            

      

While you were hanging yourself on someone else's words
Dying to believe in what you heard
I was staring straight into the shining sun
    



I love balconies. Let you almost grasp. Linger lost on the edge of epiphany.

I've found a tiny bit of happiness. It's kind of surreal when things actually happen the way they were supposed to. Not very rational, but something Did give. : )

The Wife, the Spice and I.

Warning: This will probably be incomprehensible or unfunny, or both to the majority of you. If it's not, I love you on principle. =)

-Phew, closing in on Yet another top in shades of black, white and grey.
Rgd: NOT another one!
Phew: *holding up grey top* But it's BOTTLE Greeeen!
Onoo, Rishav and I stare at her incredulously
Rgd: Adding a 'bottle' to it Doesn't make it green!

-TR (referring to Phew's preference for grayscale): Yeah, watching Phew during the first 2 weeks of college was kind of like watching a black and white film.

-Midnight conversation
Rgd: Yeaaa...*thoughtfully* No. Yeaaaa!
*Pause* Well, you know what I mean!
Phew and TR: *general agreement*

-Walking through VP, running home, half an hour late for curfew.*
Rgd (bursting into random song): Slimy maggotty littell creatures!
Phew (looks at the squelchy mud we're walking through): Slimy MAGGOTTY LITTELLL creatures!

-Referring to ex bitch's relationship dilemma on the phone
TR (very seriously): Do you think she will?
Rgd (also very seriously): I think so. *Pauses thoughtfully* Unless she doesn't.
*Profound silence*

-TR (referring to Noorton AV): Yeah, I don't think I like him. He leaves everytime I come.

-Phew (very calmly, and reasonably, referring to illogical fixation on P Dissy): Dude, but really, Why do you even Want him to ask you out? You guys have like nothing in common, and there's no point to it really, na?
*Pause for 10 seconds*
Rgd- But he's so Pweeedie!

- Talking about random guy
TR *very matter of factly*: Well I don't really know What to think of him. For a large part of last year I thought he raped his girlfriend.

-Discussing Rgd's strange depressive tendencies
TR : It's incredibly exciting to be best friends with someone so morbid. I never know if you're going to be around the next day.

-Rgd- Man, I feel like a puppy or something! Waiting for scraps of affection
Phew *passionately* Well, now you know how DOGS FEEL!
Rgd- Godammit woman, EVERYTHING ISN'T ABOUT THE DOGS!

-Walking through the stables at Tolly
Phew *very gleefully*-Automatic is shitting!
Rgd- What? That happens??

- TR, Adibidi and Rgd watching an episode of Dr. Who. Dr. Who and current flavor of the next few episodes running franctically, being chased down the hall by Rhino-looking-intergalactic law enforcers.
Rgd- Awwww, look, They're holding hands!
TR and Adibidi stare at Rgd with inscrutable expressions cuz Obviously that was the point of the scene.

Grey Street

That kind of black mood in which everything is grey spiked with violent flashes of the violet part at the heart of a flame. Where everything is frenetic. Work and people. Friends and family. Trips to large chain book-stores where you can lose yourself amongst lots of non- readers and the other-world you carelessly picked out. Where you find yourself unable to get high, in any way, and as a result you try to overdo it till someone says something and you wake up with a sharp jerk. It's that kind of mood where you have to clench your fists to prevent yourself from showing people the finger, just cuz you felt like it. Where you carefully make incisions with your tongue and scratch away at the cotton-wool in which you've wrapped people over the years.
Where music seems repetetive, movies require too much effort and long phone calls replete with giggling sexual innuendoes and snarky digs don't make you feel all special anymore.
You came back looking for magic, expecting Carribean background music and product endorsement type snaps. You found that you fit in like a glove and that you'd already forgotten what it felt like to be in charge of yourself within a week, that responsibility had flown out the window and evidently so had contentment. You discovered that things Don't just magically happen and that while you Are important, you're much more important when you're unnattainable. Or on the flipside, If only you had been more available. You reached out for gratification and brushed against the veil.
Sandcastles are beautiful  because they glisten against the rays of your imagination. Hold them too close, and they crumble to dust.

I'm BACK home!
That is all.

Thoughtful Grinch drivel post

Watched Dead Poets Society. Made me think about how good intentions are generally Not a saving grace. Speaking of parents, how do you know whether what you think is the best for your children, actually Is. Can you Really take the enormous responsibility of screwing up someone else's life? And of course taking responsibilty for it isn;t actually going to change a goddamn thing, it's the poor kid that has to deal with it right? Maybe safety and security aren't the corner-stones of happiness. To be cliche`d, being Alive has nothing to do with existing and evrything to do with pushing through the muck and making your way up- revelling, if even for a moment in the sunshine. Blinking at the sudden flash, sort of stunned that you're actually there.
 Getting back to being a parent, of Course they have our best interests at heart. But no, really, honestly, i'd like to know how on earth you'd figure out what;s going to be good for the kid, and what's going to make him so miserable that he pulls the trigger. ''Saving someone from themselves", or "saving them from making them doing something they're going to regret"- "I'm doing this for your own good"- how many times on an average do people get this line in a lifetime? How many people give up what they want to do, or give up a passion thinking it's something stupid, or impractical or give it up, God forbid, under the burden of expectations, or being noble, or you know, to repay the sacrifices their parents/family have made. There's another thing- being a parent, you make or are obliged to make so many sacrifices for your kids, do so many things that mount up to this great ginormous mountain that just lies over there reminding them of how much you've given up for their happiness, for Their well-being- and how selfish it would be of them Now, to disappoint you, and how incredibly ungrateful it would be to chase after their foolish dreams instead of living out yours. Is that fair? It's just this cycle that you can't escape, you're going to do things for your children, cuz you know, you love them and then they're going to be obliged to fulfill your dreams, only when interests conflict- occasionally you have a Neil. Sometimes you have an Ethan Hawke. And the rest of the time you have people ' living lives of quiet desperation'. Say you defy it and ignore the obligations and tell yourself it's all for the best- Follow your dreams/ heart, as the movies and the books and thingummies out it. How are your supposed to get away from the guilt. And if you then Fail, or at least aren't the dashing stupendous successfull multimillionaire or corporate tie wearing, contacts making engineer, How are you supposed to deal with the streak of dull grey that invades your parents' voices. I'm scared oif being a parent, I'm pretty sure I'm going to fuck up my kids and probably present them with my own set of problems and insecurities like most people do wind up doing cuz come on, they're only human. How inadequate isn't it? Whole new generations and personalities being moulded by already flawed personalities- we're sort of unperfect from the start.
This is an incoherent self indulgent post of course. I packed up my whole entire room today, and it feels like a bare little cell. Stripping the photos from the wall, my pages of quotes and my Pacifist poster. Gone are my mugs and the lurid red frisbee that proudly proclaims Faculty of Science. Gone is my weathered copy of Inscrutable Americanns and Rebecca. My posters of Le petit Prince and Salvador Dali aren't the first things I see anymore and the only one that remains is the gaping mouth on my wall that is titled "Pink Floyd's The Wall" . Does Not make things any more cheerful I can tell you. I have to spend 3 more days here and then I'm OUT! On the stupendously bright side, I return to the City of Joy on the 24rth via 17 hour+ flight (Dear God PLEASE let me sit next to strikingly hot Chad M. lookalike with Brit accent and mad love for Fleetwood Mac). Also after writing the Physics 111 exam I missed last term. In other news, I discovered Paris Hilton has a show to find her new bff. It has multiple seasons. If I'm not mistaken, the term bff means best friend forever. Give me a place where I can replace my head and I'll be happy.
Ack thoo!

Graffitti on study cubicle at the Davis Centre (DC)

"Time will pass. Will you?"

I have to stop reading Jodi Picoult. It's like this Bad addiction where I spend an entire day reading Yet another page turner of hers and at the end of it, am left kind of shaken up and with this incredibly dissatisfied pit in my stomach. I shall now resolve to read only Enid Blyton's " The Land of Far Beyond" when my mind refused to cooperate with the knowledge that this is exam week and if I continue this way, I shall surely fail. Observe my virtuous halo.

Your rain-soaked lips

Tendrils dripping,

On your neck.

Somewhere in the darkness

Someone murmurs your name,

And sleepwalks in a prayer.

Eyes dipping into forbidden cases

Mother-of-pearl earbobs and white sloping shoulders.

Ecstasy in a perfume bottle.

An oblivious candle.

A gust of wind.

A lingering sigh.

Surely a presentiment

Of what was to come.

Oh well.

I am HAPPY! KT Tunstall type-er happy! It is SPRING! 22 blessed degrees Celcius, baby! Bring out the shorts and the spaghettis and the wind flowing through your hair and the sun warming it up if things get too chilly. Add to this seagulls circling the SLC beating out the dreadful honking geese for once, sounding at times like a child gurgling and sometimes like a cat mewing. Add to this the fact that I danced for an hour straight yesterday after I got home from my last and absolute final Computational Chemistry lab, and that too with a solid respectable 93%. So it seems computers and I aren't totally at odds. Point was that the dancing has caused my legs and arms to ache blissfully, yes Blissfully since yesterday night after I went for a walk with a couple of - well, er, friend and ex and potential "good friend" of ex, but let's not get into that and complicate things. Did absolutely nothing after that but then went to sleep for 8 whole hours, well nearly. Which is a Big deal for me, much improvement from the normal 4 and a half. Freshly squeezed orange juss with pulp in the morning from the caf, awaiting Easter/ Good Friday lunch at the moment. Revelling in Van Morisson's brown eyed girl (Why yes, I Do have brown eyes! *beeeeeg wide eyed beam*). Exams in a week and I haven't studied- oh well, that's not a very joyous thought. But y'know of Course, I shall study crazily from today- as Ma puts it- " paagoler moto por, dule dule por".  Yuss I shall study Chemistry and complex ion equilibria but before that I shall stop skipping on my seat and turn off Fleetwood Mac's Go your own way (What A song). Add to general happiness the fact that I am a mere 3 weeks away from the City of Joy. From 8 months down to 3 weeks, and as you can see from the splotchy disjointed gleeful writing. In the words of James Taylor, "Shalalalalalalalala, ladida. Ladida!"
P.S- Am I correct in thinking that Brown eyed girl is the tune that plays in the background of SuperMario?

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I just watched Before Sunrise. I don't want to review the movie and spoil it. All I'm going to say is that it's beautiful. Even to a persevering cynic, pretending to be adult like me. I'd like to watch it sometime with someone special.

Two words. 85%. Genetics Finals.
We'll see, bitch. We'll see.

Inside my Head

Of late I have been falling in love with girls. They have always struck me as pretty, hugely identifiable creatures sort of like butterflies. Only, I don’t really identify with butterflies- well maybe the love of color and patterns. Sort of the reason why i find snakes so fascinating. All these gorgeous tracks and the skin that looks like leather but touch it, and it would be clammy. Kind of like certain people i know- oh so lovely, look utterly delectable from the outside but oh such a letdown once you reach or attempt to reach inside. Like those pretty delectably decorated gilt boxes you find sometimes in the Lifestyle shops. As a kid, ‘Home Centre’ and ‘Lifestyle’ used to be my favourite shops. Filled with little antique looking vases, papier mache roses with those tiny little dull grey beads in the middle. Pink edged gilt boxes with dinky lids and the Fur Elise playing when you opened them up. (I have always loved the Fur Elise. It sounded incredibly sad to me though, as a child when as a child when I’d only ever heard the beginning part. When I was a kid and didn’t really know of Beethoven but remembered the vague bits of information that stuck on in my head when I was outside of it, not building stories, this piece every time i heard it, would always make me feel rather sad- and conjure up an image of a blind man playing a great big piano in the moonlight with yellow pearl keys. And then we would rush off to play Hide and Seek. Babai dada would spot all of us, being the Giant amongst us all. Hiding behind the waterfall, hiding behind the beeg green plant, peeping out through the cracks, stifling fear choked laughter, when the Denner would pass you by, Strangely enough, i always felt awful when i was ‘found’ but i felt even worse when everyone else was found and i wasn’t like i was forgotten. But then we would start playing Marco Polo till the Rich-Benevolent but divorced Old Uncle who was the grand benefactor/father of the Bangiyo Parishad would shoo us out of his private spaces. Of course we would creep back inside. One of our prime and Most interesting things to do was tell each other ghost stories and scare ourselves silly, so that we looked over our shoulders and jumped at small noises. I Loved to be frightened as a kid. I don’t know, what sort of perverse pleasure I derived out of being scared out of my wits, but I think the adrenaline rush of the danger- the thrill that something might be creeping up JUST Behind you, is what got me every time. I’ve sort of remained the same since. I still love horror movies, but i haven’t found one that has scared me long enough. This was supposed to be a bracket really, squeezed in about what i thought of the Fur Elise but then it mutated into a paragraph. That’s what thoughts are like really. Or even Life when you come to think of it. Brackets, subplots, half thoughts, single events, chance happenings that mutate into chapters and maybe sometimes stay with you. Become a Main character. Having Main characters with character flaws is ‘in’ these days in Bollywood. They’re waking up to reality. Reality is what is larger than life today. Big bucks, ‘real stories’, actual connections and simple down to earth heart warmers. Box office blockbusters and relieved reviews in the newspaper like the critics have found kindred souls and are mighty relieved about it. I just feel like being all sarcastic about something at the moment so Bollywood shall have to take its brunt for the time being- I’m sure Bollywood is much affected by indifference, but like Gloria Gaynor, I’m sure it will survive the heartbreak.

Heartbreaks make us stronger right? I just think, if you get your heart broken badly enough too many times, there’s an extent to which you can sellotape it back together. Sooner or later little bits are going to come unstuck and then everything is going to become a little muddled together. Blurry- kind of like fog. Smog actually, with the dark bits in between that you ignore. I want a prince on a white horse. You know, galloping across with the horse neighing away to glory. Only the galloping is a must. Such a lovely word isn’t it? The horse shall gallop and the prince shall gallop over to me and my heart will gallop away. We shall all gallop.

I’m busy being a grump- I’m just tired really. And there are too many thoughts inside my head, all turning into one another. I’m lazy which is why I’m in my room bunking genetics and typing this out. I suspect I’m also a little sick- wretched snow! Why won’t you go?!

Trippin’, stumblin’, flippin’, fumblin’. Clumsy cause there’s Just TOO much Snow! For someone who is as motor retarded as i am, it is a challenge navigating your way to class among all the brownish mushy ickyslush that snow turns to when it has been trampled upon by a million disgruntled university students all trudging to class.

Right now the only sound in my room is ‘With or Without you’ playing softly and the sound of me tap-tapping against the keyboard. How i love the sound of the tap-tapping. For some reason this tap-  tapping always makes me feel very efficient. Like a secretary at some important office churning out lots of letters. Once as a kid i saw this lady in this red suit at the airport. She was smoking a cigarette and this blue-ish smoke came out of her lips. I think since then that has been the image i carry in my head of sophistication and success. I’m not sure why but our childish fantasies stay with us. Oh well, someday i shall be a sophisticated lady in a red suit, with a cigarette dangling between my lips and say “Darling” in a thick accent. I wish i could go back to being a kid. Things were simpler, ideas were more clear cut, and gender didn’t really exist. We were all asexual flatworm type of creatures who loved to play what I always called Catching cook. In hindsight it was probably Catch the crook. But then, this probably speaks of my permanent bhukkadness.

I’m writing too much and I’m emptying my head onto virtual paper. In a minute i shall post this, and have doubts. But then i don’t think most people bother to read such long posts. Or at the end, when you do read this and you reach here, you will be vaguely annoyed at having wasted time. And then i shall secretly be going ‘heehee’ in my head all the way from Canada because i have met a fellow procrastinator.

‘With or without you’ is ending and Friday is here. I love Friday. And for now i feel strangely sedated. Peaceful. Like a happy little monk from the monastery nodding his head. I wish i could nod off to sleep. Insomnia is So difficult to cure, and i don’t really need another defect to add to the list. I meant to write about different girls who i am falling in love with but i digressed. I was beginning to crush on this funny man but i keep getting side tracked by his ex and her blog. So real and interesting she seems. Then there’s the wife and the girl i have nicknamed who seems to bruise my heart in different ways. So far men have been bringing me heart ache and unnecessary complications. These days i find women more interesting and God alone knows how many complications that will bring if this continues, not the least of which shall be the most important woman in my life. Distance is necessary though.

And with that cryptic sentence I stop. 

I love how sometimes you can have actual "Laugh out loud moments" when online.
Lol.

I am Sotired. Soso, verytired. It is not even funny. I am tired of doing too much and doing nothing. I am tired of not sleeping and having a permanent Calcutta sleep-cycle hangover. I am tired of not having the motivation to just get off my derriere (isn't that a pretty word? it always reminds me of brassiere) and do it! Like Nike says. I'm tired of being complicated and being all too simplenaive. I am tired of being inadequate. I think i am becoming someone else and a mixture of people. I am tired of the color black. I feel a tad dyslexic right now. But it is somuchfun to write like this. It is like making up your own nouns. With an added emphasis. I am tired, ohsotired, soverytired of Itall. And that reminds me I am tired of imdb, Youtube, facebook, blogger and fmylife. The ugly Angel keeps haunting me and then the Quest takes over the job. God, if you exist, random chance and luck- if you do not exist- throw some my way. Please. I would like to get done with this week. If I get through it well, with all my dignity and rank and Watcard and keys intact I will make an offering of ..of..I will. Er, I will be happy. Veryvery happy. And I will work the rest of the term, work the skin right off my nose and try for brilliance till I can fly East for the summer. All the birdies flew away in winter-time, but now the green gooey goo-shit geese have returned. But today it snowed unexpectedly. Mini-blizzard took over and covered it all with snow. Snow in my eyes, snow on my hair- when I came back in, successfully brandishing Chicken fingers, my hair had glistening beads. Verypretty. Not Sweat though, cuz that would be a bit too disgusting.
No I am not trying to be a very retarded dyslexic Salinger, I am trying to listen to Genetics Podcasts. I am trying to concentrate. I am trying to go away now. Bye.

Another one I found, just lying around- See how well I rhyme!

List of books most of them sitting unread in people's bookshelves to " make them look smarter". The rules are: bold the ones that you have read and italicize the ones you have started but didn't finish. Since I have Chem midterm and Genetics midterm and Lab report and Calc assignment due and since I prefer talking to X's and lovering with Phews, I now use even more time constructively.


1. Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell
2. Anna Karenina
3. Crime and Punishment
4. Catch-22
5. One Hundred Years of Solitude
6. Wuthering Heights
7. The Silmarillion
8. Life of Pi: a novel
9. The Name of the Rose
10. Don Quixote
11. Moby Dick
12. Ulysses
13. Madame Bovary
14. The Odyssey
15. Pride and Prejudice
16. Jane Eyre
17. The Tale of Two Cities
18. The Brothers Karamazov
19. Guns, Germs and Steel
20. War and Peace
21. Vanity Fair
22. The Time Traveler's Wife
23. The Iliad
24. Emma
25. The Blind Assasin
26. The Kite Runner
27. Mrs. Dalloway (well..reading is more accurate)
28. Great Expectations
29. American Gods
30. A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius
31. Atlas Shrugged
32. Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books
33. Memoirs of a Geisha
34. Middlesex
35. Quicksilver
36. Wicked: The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West
37. The Canterbury Tales
38. The Historian: A Novel
39. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man
40. Love in the Time of Cholera
41. Brave New World
42. The Fountainhead
43. Foucault's Pendulum
44. Middlemarch
45. Frankenstein
46. The Count of Monte Cristo
47. Dracula 
48. A Clockwork Orange
49. Anansi Boys
50. The Once and Future King
51. The Grapes of Wrath
52. The Poisonwood Bible
53. 1984
54. Angels and Demons
55. Inferno
56. The Satanic Verses
57. Sense and Sensibility
58. The Picture of Dorian Gray
59. Mansfield Park
60. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (I know I read the first page for sure..I honestly have no idea)
61. To the Lighthouse
62. Tess of the D'Urbervilles
63. Oliver Twist
64. Gulliver's Travels
65. Les Miserables
66. The Correction
67. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay
68. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
69. Dune
70. The Prince
71. The Sound and the Fury
72. Angela's Ashes: A Memoir
73. The God of Small Things ( I was in the 8th grade...I give it another try sometime after this wretched week)
74. A People's History of the United States: 1492-present (Not happening anytime soon)
75. Cryptonomicon
76. Neverwhere
77. A Confederacy of Dunces
78. A Short History of Nearly Everything
79. Dubliners
80. The Unbearable Lightness of Being ( reading now, in between bouts of studying and other forms of procastination)
81. Beloved
82. Slaughter House- five
83. The Scarlett Letter
84. Eats, Shoots and Leaves (I think I flipped thro this.)
85. The Mists of Avalon
86. Oryx and Crake
87. Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed
88. Cloud Atlas
89. The Confusion
90. Lolita
91. Persuasion
92. Northanger Abbey
93. The Catcher in the Rye
94. On the Road
95. The Hunchback of Notre Dame
96. Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything
97. Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: An Enquiry into Values ( This is my perpetual on the plane- get distracted by movie and food and put down-book. I should read it on the ground once)
98. The Aeneid
99. Watership Down
100. Gravity's Rainbow
101. The Hobbit
102. In Cold Blood: A True Account of a Multiple Murder and its Consequences
103. White Teeth
104. Treasure Island
105. David Copperfield
106. The Three Musketeers


If this were an exam, I'd most certainly fail it. As for the coming exams, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be failing them too.

Book tag (stolen aeons ago from She whom I do not remember)

Science Fiction, Fantasy or Horror?
 Sci-fi – Hmm.. I’m pretty sure Animorphs doesn’t count. H.G Wells I didn’t much like. I want to start on Asimov. Aldous Huxley and Kaziguro were good if they qualify.
Fantasy- Er. I’m not sure what exactly you’re categorizing
Horror- Rarely. Dracula. Frankenstein. Bas.

Hitchhiker or Discworld?
Reading Hitchhiker, haven’t Discworld.

Bookmark or Dog ear?
Bookmark! Urgh, dog ears are desecration.

Asimov’s Science Fiction or Fantasy & Science Fiction?

So. I feel stupid now.

Alphabetize by author, Alphabetize by title, or random?
I used to be very big on arranging them according to title and favourites and author. Now it’s more like size.

Keep, Throw Away or Sell?
Keep. Keep all of them and accumulate and buy some more. Beg, borrow and steal till they grow silverfish.

Keep, dust-jacket or toss it?
Keep.

Harry Potter or Lemony Snicket?

Too different. HP is HP and I like Lemony Snicket’s grim humour of despair.

Stop reading when tired or at chapter breaks?

Stop reading the night before the exam. Or when someone calls or nature calls.

"It was a dark and stormy night" or "Once upon a time"?

Fairytales annoy me of late. Methinks I need some pixie-dust.

Buy or Borrow?
Borrow. Buy if I’d like to collect and read a kazillion times.

Buying choice: Book Reviews, Recommendation or Browse?
Browsing all the way. Book reviews also. Recommendations from selected people.

Lewis or Tolkien?
I didn’t like Lewis much actually. Tolkien I haven’t read. Yes, I know. DON’T look at me like that!

Morning reading, Afternoon reading or Nighttime reading?
Anytime. Lazing in bed in the morning, lolling in bed in the afternoon and much the same at night.

Standalone or Series?
Standalone.

Favorite book of which nobody else has heard? (dunno about the nobody though)
Cafe Tropicana- I don’t remember whom it’s by

The Land of Far Beyond, The House at Redroofs- Enid Blyton

Haroun and the Sea of Stories- Salman Rushdie
Coram Boy- Jamilla Gavin

Top 5 favorite genres of all time?
Anything. Not too much of a thriller fan though. Archer I can tolerate, Cook not at all and for some reason have always been allergic to James Hadley Chase.

Top 5 favorite genre books?

Uff, enough with the genre aantlamo. Some I can remember at the moment:

Sophie’s World

The Kite Runner, Not without my Daughter- Go classify

The Book thief, Chocolat, An Equal Music, Gone with the Wind, All quiet on the Western front

Comedy- The inscrutable Americans

The Hungry Tide, Opal Mehta, Rebecca, The Little Prince, Matilda, The Witches.

Currently Reading?
Milan Kundera- The Unbearable Lightness of Being

Virgina Woolf- Mrs. Dalloway