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?