Read This Post Because It Has A Beyonce Reference

          WHAT'S UP :D I'm feeling pretty jubilant right now (who on earth says "I'm feeling pretty jubilant?" Why do I talk like this? I was born in the wrong century.) I mean I'm feeling totally dope at the moment, because I've just finished writing my first scientific essay!

           This essay was for a weekend course on Astronomy and Astrophysics conducted by MPBFIR. Apparently, at some point of my life, I decided that I wanted to do Astrophysics, and therefore, the essay. I have just bled out a thousand words about computational astrophysics, a subject on which, I am compelled by my innate honesty to inform you, I know absolutely nothing. If all goes well, fingers crossed, knock on wood, punch a preschooler, I will be admitted to the course and spend the next five months being introduced to the joys and wonders of 'Astrophysics for Idiots'.

Fun Things That Astrophysicists Would Say, If We Lived In a Perfect World:
1) Look at my girlfriend like that again and I'll make you see stars.

2) Girl, NASA should be studying you right now, because you got a heavenly body.

3) Yo Mamma so fat, a black hole couldn't pull her in (because they have really strong gravitational force! Haha? Never mind.)

4) Are astrophysicists vegetarians? No, they prefer their food meteor.

5) Unrelated, but hilarious. The best thing about hand sanitizer is not the hygiene but the fact that everybody now walks around hospitals looking like they're hatching dastardly plots.

Yeah, this is all I've got. I'm sorry. To apologize, I have found for you this picture:

སྐྱེས་སྐར་ལ་བཀྲ་ཤིས་བདེ་ལེགས་ཞུ།

            Hello Internets! How you been? Good? Good.

            I've had a very interesting week. College continues to be fun and I have met several new and fascinating people through it. I know it's kind of early to be saying this, but I honestly feel as though being at college is already working some positive changes in me. Maybe it's because I'm free from that "prepare for the entrance exams or die" atmosphere which is basically the defining characteristic of the eleventh and twelfth standards, but everyday I go to college, I feel my soul blossoming a little more. It is blossoming like a Venus flytrap at the approach of the summer rains.

          One of the best changes I've seen in myself since I started college is the significant increase in my social skills. Till I joined SJC I lived a pretty cloistered life in one of Bangalore's Anglo-Indian, colonial period schools, and when I graduated, I carried with me all the benefits and hindrances of that. I had gained an excellent command over the English language, true, but I also took away with me a well-concealed, ever-present disdain for those who might not behave like me, express themselves like me or feel the same way as I do towards Bollywood movies. Being at college in contact with people from so many different walks and bridges of life is definitely rubbing all those edges off, slowly and painfully. And it feels good. Learning to accept other people is definitely a step towards learning to accept yourself. I feel confident.

         For those of you who don't know, today is the 79th birthday of His Holiness, the 14th Dalai Lama. For those of you who really don't know, the Dalai Lama is not, in fact, a llama, but the spiritual leader of the Tibetan people and also a very nice man. He is in exile from his native country, Tibet, right now because the Chinese government are a bunch of bullies, and so he puts in his time travelling around the world spreading a message of peace and working for the well-being of Tibet ex situ.

      Yesterday the Tibetan Association of our college organized a birthday party for the Dalai Lama, distributed sweets in class, cut a birthday cake, covered our college in pictures relating to his life, performed Tibetan folk arts for us, and expressed their gratitude to India for providing shelter to Tibetan refugees at the advent of China's invasion of their home country, in honour of their leader.

       I know there's a tendency in these kind of situations to confer certain god-like qualities of divine virtue and excellence on a certain group of oppressed people just because they've seen some trouble, and I'm not going to do that. All I'm saying is that all the Tibetans I've met so far are a collection of really nice, friendly, helpful and polite people, and it's a shame that they've been forced to leave their native land because of the oppression of a stronger nation. Many have been separated from their families in Tibet for decades, with little hope of seeing them again. There's even talk from the People's Republic of China that they're going to be the ones to identify the next reincarnation of the Dalai Lama, which is a piece of politics as transparently manipulative as it is abhorrent to the religious and social sentiments of the Tibetans.

        Please take the time to become educated on this issue, and show your support and love for our lovely neighbours from the north in any way you can. In the words of His Holiness, "Be kind whenever possible. It is always possible." Happy Sunday!

#freetibet

Meep.

Two things I've been thinking about lately are buses and the challenges of being a girl, so that's what today's post will be about.

Forget menstruation, pregnancy, discrimination at the work place and all that jazz. You know what's really hard about being a girl? It's really hard not to get toothpaste in your hair when you spit into the sink after brushing your teeth.

BMTC buses are some of the best places to see everything that's good about Indian society. Hardly a bus ride goes by without me noticing a youngster voluntarily getting up to give his/her place to an older person or offer to help someone who is standing up by holding their bag. That being said, one of the greatest disadvantages of Indians is their absolute lack of understanding of the concepts of  capacity and volume, particularly where buses are concerned.  I once saw a bus that was reeling drunkenly towards the left at an alarming angle which might have been due to the driver's ineptitude but which was more probably caused by the fact that it was carrying more passengers than a goods train could have done in safety. The fact that this precariously balanced vehicle reached the bus stop without accident is a tribute to the excellence of Indian engineers. When the doors were opened, it was seen that the people in the bus were packed tighter than sardines in a can, and yet the conductor, with great generosity of spirit called out cheerfully that there was still plenty of room, his voice slightly muffled by the fact that he was at the time being sat upon by a fat woman. Oh, India!

My Greatest Flaws (Short Version. Part I)

           Konnichiwa! So, I'm a person who prides herself on being pretty self-aware- I feel that I have a general idea of what my worst shortcomings are and to a certain extent I consciously exert myself to try and overcome them. Of course, I may be totally oblivious to some characteristic of mine that makes most people I interact with want to drop me off the nearest building, and I can't really do anything about those, but in this post I am going to reveal to you the most repulsive, festering sores of my character that I am aware of, in the hope that the confession will make me a better human being and you will continue to love and accept me regardless. Because that's what the Internet's all about, right? Love and acceptance?

Repulsive, Festering Sore #1: In my heart of hearts, I feel that people who 1) watch Tamil and Kannada movies 2) say "let's make fraanship, ya" and 3) break into vigorous dancing when they hear songs from Chennai Express are not so much people as aliens from another planet with whom I can never have fellowship. I know this is a narrow-minded, prejudicial point of view, but, try as I might, I kind of shudder and hold my valuables closer to me when I encounter this type of person. Other characteristics against which I have biases include, but are not restricted to, 4) Excessive wearing of checked shirts opened till the third button to show a frankly indecent amount of chest hair and 5) Wearing of pants that seem to serve no discernible purpose except to keep the calves warm.

Now you know.

Repulsive, Festering Sore #2: I sometimes use my extensive command over the English language to intimidate people. Disgusting, I am aware, and it gets worse. I actually judge people based on the way they speak. Not the language, because I've heard people speak Hindi and Malayalam in a way that is an absolute pleasure to listen to, but there are some people who habitually speak in a manner that seems to me crass or unrefined, and without knowing anything about them, I automatically form the opinion that they are similarly crass and unrefined. Why do I do this? I have no idea. It's a problem, and I need help.

Repulsive, Festering Sore #3: I cannot stand Indians who speak with fake American accents. This is even worse than the previous faults because it's borderline hypocrisy. I was brought up in a thoroughly Anglicized environment and my own accent definitely veers a little towards the European. Despite all these things, I have the gall, when confronted with a person who pronounces 'squirrel' as 'sqorrrrl', to first stare at him/her in outright hostility, then demand an explanation for his/her strange and unusual pronunciation, and finish off by mocking it for at least twenty minutes afterward.

Why I do like this? I don't know!

There are probably more but I think I've given enough cause for outrage today. One thing I always consider when I'm writing my posts is my reader's blood pressure. I try to increase it as much as possible. You're welcome.

To do B.Sc, or To Do B.Tech, That Is The Question

        Dear ladies, gentlemen, and all the rest. I write this to you from a Slough of Despond, where I lie, half-suffocated and despairing, trapped beneath the weight of all this wearisome world and my own foolish self. The first of my burdens I have hopes of shaking off, perhaps even abandoning altogether, from the other I shall have no rest while breath still illuminates this mortal coil. Until the time when my flame finally gutters and dies out, I shall carry it with me, whether waking or sleeping, laughing or weeping, such that the final rest is a consummation devoutly to be wished. Elaine Paige expresses my feeling beautifully with her silver tongue in this song:

            Truthfully, I have no reason to feel this morbid, except that I have just read Wuthering Heights, and, also, I have no idea what I'm doing with my life. If you came here for something worth reading, you are in the wrong place, and I recommend you follow this link instead: http://www.africa.upenn.edu/Articles_Gen/Letter_Birmingham.html. You will not regret, I promise you. It is beautifully expressed.

          An abyss of doubt and questioning gapes below my feet, and a voice in my head (my Physics teacher's) warns that a single misplaced step will send me over the edge, tumbling down rocky slopes to my own destruction. Basically, I can't decide what college course to take, whether I should take a gap year, what college to go to, what to have for dinner, nothing.

       I wish someone would grab me by the shoulders and tell me clearly and firmly that they have looked into the seeds of time and seen which grains will grow and which will not, and therefore I should take engineering, or that I would raise my eyes to the sky and see the path that I should take there, traced across the clouds in burning characters. In my weakness, I even checked my horoscope this morning, hoping for some sort of sign.

       The cry famously uttered by Eliza Dolittle is constantly on my lips, I wake screaming it in the cold watches of the night. No, not "buy a bunch of violets off a poor gal,", the other one. "What am I to do? What's to become of me?" It's becoming a problem. I have been reduced to such a state that I soliloquize now, which is mostly because I'm basically confined to my room these days and there's not much else to do, really. My native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought.

Here's hoping that you know your minds better than I do at the moment. Yours indecisively,
Joanna Koshy.

WARNING: Random Rambling Alert

            Good mor-niiiiing, Bangalore! It is a beautiful day outside and you all should really not be wasting your time reading this. Get off your computer and appreciate the splendour of this Saturday morning! Seriously, the weather is GORGEOUS. I went out on my balcony, sank to the namaz position and worshiped the sun for some time earlier because it's that stunning. Bangalore's excellent climate is one of the main reasons why it's the most glorious of all Indian cities. Who cares if we don't have a metro, garbage dumps or an efficient police system? Our weather rocks! Thank you Sky God, Sun God, Buddha, Fairy Queen, whoever's responsible for this.

           Hey, how's it going? That greeting seems a bit tame, actually. It doesn't sound like I'm excited to be talking to you, which, of course, I am. Maybe it should be, "HEY, HOW'S IT GOING?!?!?!" Nah, that just sounds like I need money from you. Or I'm one of those losers with no friends who becomes extremely excited with any kind of social interaction, which, also, I am.

            I don't really have anything specific to tell you about today, except that I need your help to find and brutally murder someone called Sarah James. You don't know what she looks like? Just go to YouTube and click on any video. Seriously, any video. In a few minutes an advertisement will come up that you can't skip, and if it seems nice to you now, try listening to it over and over and over again. I don't know how much Lakme's paying YouTube, but that @#$$%@#@$% advertisement is there before EVERY. SINGLE VIDEO.

         I know, I know, Sarah James is a model, she's just doing her job, we're both victims, etc., etc., but if she tells me ONE MORE TIME that I just need to pick a look from her wardrobe and she'll help me put it together, I will break something. This was my reaction the first time I saw her advertisement:
"Oh, wow, she's really pretty. Maybe if I buy that product I'll look like her and hopefully grow another six inches. Yeah, I'll definitely check that out if I get the chance."

The fifth time I saw her advertisement:
"Hmm, this is getting a little boring now. I'm starting to get slightly annoyed."

The seventy-sixth time I saw her advertisement:
"CURSE YOU, SARAH JAMES. CURSE YOU TO THE DEEPEST PIT OF HADES. AN ETERNAL PLAGUE ON YOU AND YOUR FAMILY MEMBERS AND I HOPE YOU ARE STRUCK DOWN BY LIGHTNING AND EATEN BY WORMS."

          Anger management, Koshy. Deep breaths. Count to ten. The other exciting news I have for you, which isn't exciting at all, is that I've finally decided what I want to do with my life. My real life's dream and the purpose for which I was put on this earth is, of course, to be a writer, but the truth I'm just not cut out for that starving artist lifestyle. I don't have that kind of non-materialistic poet's outlook that would help me live with a salary of maybe six thousand a month and instant noodles every night. So, I also need a REAL job besides writing.

          The main problem I had while deciding what I really want as a career was that my idea of a perfect job is "a little work, plenty money". Say that again in a Juan from 'Mind Your Language' accent. There you go. And the career seminars that they hold for us in school really aren't much help. At one of those things, the guy asked us to write down our dream job on a piece of paper, then fold it and keep it away, and look at it again after a few days. So I did, and I found that I had written "Waste Management".

       "Waste management". I kid you not. What the hell is wrong with my subconscious? I refuse to even consider the terrifying possibility that that may actually be what I want to do with my life. So finally, a few days ago, I decided enough was enough and it was time for me to get some kind of direction. I sat down, and I did what any calm, rational, intelligent human being would do when he or she needed to make a decision. I wrote down all my options on several pieces of paper and drew a chit.

        I won't make you laugh by telling you what all the options were, because my life is already enough of a mockery. It will suffice to tell you that I drew 'engineering', so that's what I'm going to be doing for the next few years.

           Therefore, I will be leaving you all now because if I am doing engineering, I need to start preparing for CET. Peace and love! I'm sorry that this post wasn't about anything specific, I just wanted to have a conversation with you guys. Good talk, bros. What is your dream job? Tell me in the comments! Have yourself an excellent Saturday, you beautiful person, you.

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Baby Got Back

                Darlings! Sweety-hearts! Comrades! (I have become a Communist since I left y'all. See what losing you has done to me?) I'm back!

Oh, God. It's happening again.

                 Guys, it's been a year. I'm a wise, mature, seventeen year-old WOMAN now (as you can see, I'm still funny), as opposed to the un-knowledgable, uncouth youth I was when I last posted. I can't say 'Hey, y'all, how's it going?', any more. I will think of a new, more catchy greeting, but till then, let's just go with: Hello! As you might have noticed, I'm back. I have RETURNED. Ladies, ladies, calm down. Mildred, stop crying, baby. I missed you too.

                Let's make this reunion interesting. As you read the next few lines, I want you to imagine that instead of sitting at a boring computer, on your boring chair, in your boring life, you are a dark and mysterious stranger, who's just moved into a new town to escape your past. You're trying to move on but you can't help remembering the person you lost, that heartless wench who tore your heart out of your chest and danced the flamenco on it. You spend your days with your only friend, Mr. Jack Daniel. trying to forget. Suddenly, one cold afternoon in October, you hear a sound that you have both hoped for and feared. The sound of a key turning in the lock, a familiar footstep in the hallway. You turn around, half afraid, half wondering, and here I am, as though I was never gone. We leap into each other's arms and swear never to let go again.

              Wasn't that fun? Online role-playing, hell yes! Back to your chair now, we have some catching up to do.
               I'm in twelfth standard!! :O The big one-two. I am the senior-est person in my school! It's the middle of the academic year now and we've just finished our half-yearlies (more on that carnage later). Every conversation I've had lately, both inside and outside school, has started with "So, which college..?", for which I have absolutely no answer. My mum and I have nearly been getting into fist-fights over the course question recently. The real and earnest have started fourteen-hours-a-day-preparation for the entrance exams. Obviously, this is the best time possible to start blogging again.

                  The truth is, I've really missed blogging. Writing books and short stories is all peachy, but it's not nearly as therapeutic as whining about my non-interesting life to a group of random strangers. The other reason is that, frankly, I'm stagnating. At this point I am the creative equivalent of a puddle of muddy water. The last time I was in this horrible, dark place, I started blogging, and it helped. So, here's hope that it works again, and, hey, if I can entertain you guys in the process, everyone wins, right? In that interest, here's a laugh for you. My school made me a prefect last year xD

                   Oh, BAM! Just five minutes into the blog and I've made you do a spit-take already. I haven't lost ANY of It. I have so many things to tell you guys about, and I will do that, but I think we should establish the rules of this return to blogging right now, before there's a misunderstanding.
                 I'm not looking for a serious relationship, you guys. It's true, the dictionary definition of 'irresponsible' is a picture of my face, but I AM in twelfth standard. Let's think of my school work as my nagging, demanding wife and you as the Other Woman. I WILL spend time with you, but my family comes first. So, let's keep this at a minimum level of commitment. I'm just looking for some fun. I hope you understand.

                That's all for now, folks! New post SOON, I PROMISE. Lots and lots of wonderful and scary and amazing things have happened and I will tell you all about them. In the meantime, comfort yourselves with this awesome song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jofNR_WkoCE. In advance, you're welcome.

LOOK A FOLLOW BUTTON!!! (It's been so long since I typed that :') Please direct any anger and/or sarcasm to the comments box) I will see you soon! Happy Wednesday! :)

Science-ey and I Know It

I just experienced one of those moments of euphoria, the kind that can validate an entire existence. If I was a drop out crackhead who continued to live with her parents at the age of fifty, and I experienced one of these moments, I would be able to say with absolute confidence that my life, rather than a fail, was an epic win. It wasn't a thunderbolt or a crack of lightning, like the kind you get when you finally understand a really hard concept, it was more like a light drizzle that grew quietly, getting louder and louder, until it was as beautiful as the peak of a rainstorm when the sky and the earth look like they're connected by a sheet of water, almost as impenetrable as a brick wall and a thousand times more lovely. The benefit of living in the tropics is being able to experience things like this, the downsides include poverty and mosquitoes.
My light drizzle started when two of my friends started singing the chorus of MIKA- Grace Kelly, you know, the part that goes "I can be brown, I can be blue, I can be violet sky-". I listened to these two out of tune teenagers, screaming out lyrics while walking home, shirts untucked and ties pulled down, and I felt like the shepherds must have when they heard the first Noel. My jaw dropped, actually dropped, which is something I thought only happened in over-dramatic TV serials, and I stared at them like they were a choir full of angels, complete with flute and sax players, rather than people who couldn't be more tone deaf if they were really deaf. And then the small mist of contentment just grew and grew until, at a point when I was standing next to a slightly alarming cow and a garbage dump, I felt like jumping and dancing and crying with the sheer ecstasy of being alive. Before you start sending polite and carefully worded messages to my parents asking whether their daughter is entirely normal, I have these moments very rarely, and if you have ever experienced anything like this, you will understand and you will be happy for me, you hypothetical killjoys.

Hey y'all how's it going? So while my small private party inside my head was going on (what a find this blog would be for any psychologist. You guys must be eyeing your couches longingly and wondering when I'll be lying on them, letting you unravel the intricacies of my twisted mind), I realized something extremely rewarding. I really, really love what I'm doing at this point of time and I wouldn't be in any other place, or in any other situation than the one I'm in right now. It's not like I was miserable or anything before, I've always been a happy little dweeb, but I am especially content right now. I love science. I really do. And the thought that I'll be studying something I love for the next two years, and possibly for the rest of my lifetime, fills me with joy and the desire to write poetry of some sort. Don't worry you guys, I will resist the temptation.

That's all I have to say right now. ISC Sci is surprisingly drama-filled (who knew nerds would lead such intricate social lives?) and I am extremely busy. Also, if you know me personally, here's something that will make you ROFL, or possibly LYAO, I'm part of the school's basketball program. If you don't know me personally, you can have fun imagining why this would make anybody ROFLMAO. See? Everybody wins!

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P. S. OMG, the current went off before I could save this. Add power cuts to the list of downsides. Fortunately, Blogger, all powerful and merciful, auto saved it. Everybody say, "Thank you Blogger!"

P. P. S Or- or not. You know, do whatever you want. Watch this video for instant happiness.

I'm Pepsi And I Know It

Before the ranting begins, major, major shout-out to everyone who tells anyone about this blog. You are like my pink fluffy unicorns, dancing on rainbows. That is, by the way, possibly the most magical video I have ever seen. Youtube, why are you destroying my life? So, um, news, news... Oh yeah! I was at school today to pick up my application and I met Jerome Alexander and Irene Julius there. They are very awesome. Thank you guys for admitting in public that you read my rubbish. If I wasn't so happy about this, I would probably try to blackmail you with that information.

Hey y'all how's it going? It is amazing to be back in Bangalore. I'm so glowy with happiness that there are cartoon animals flocking around me as I type this. Get off the keyboard, stupid bunny. Go back to Snow White. Seriously though, the random appearance of super-cute critters is one of those things that happen in Disney movies which would be really creepy if it happened in real life. Imagine yourself just walking through a forest singing 'Friday' (Friday, Friday! Gonna get down on Friday!) and suddenly a freaking bird's sitting on your shoulder and singing the chorus with you. I don't like birds. From a distance, yeah, but on my shoulder? I would attack that thing with a blowtorch.
I'm just kidding. Attacking animals with blowtorches is bad. Axes are the eco-friendly way to go.
 By the way, happy I've-been-doing-this-crap-for-longer-than-a-month-versary! Thank you, everyone who takes the trouble to read my blog and I hope your life becomes less boring soon. Here is your anniversary gift: I own a pair of underwear that says 'Hideous Golfers Association' and underneath it says OFFICIAL in big red letters. No joke. That thing is authentic. It embarrasses me how often I wear it just because it brings me joy.
It's been a while since I made a list, and I've already started talking about the cartoon animals, so here you go! All the things I don't understand about movies:

That NEVER Happens In Real Life!


1. Whenever there's a scene with the hero and the heroine lying in bed, the sheet always covers the heroine up to her arms but the hero only up to his waist. How do they manage this? Do they get special L-shaped sheets especially for scenes like that? Try asking for them in a supermarket. Actually, don't. I worded my request the wrong way and now I'm wondering how many stores a person can potentially be banned from before she's twenty.

2. In real life if you walk down a street singing and dancing, people either call the cops or throw money at you. What they don't do is join in. And how does everyone always know the right steps?

3. I don't think this happens anywhere except Bollywood, but when the hero's surrounded by like twenty dudes, why do they attack him one at a time? There's twenty of you! Sic that guy! Hit him with a chair! You should see how annoyed people get when you start shouting stuff like this in the theatre. Apparently you're not supposed to side with the bad guys. Pssh. Racists.

4. How is it that the hero never, ever misses what he's aiming at, even if he's never fired a gun before in his life, but all the trained mercenaries and military dudes and stuff can't hit the side of a barn? That doesn't make sense! There's like a million people firing, the probability is very high that one of them shoots straight! And why can't I just shut up and enjoy the movie like a normal person?! Ugh!  This is like how the only reason I listen to Adele is to shout at the computer about how you can't possibly set fire to the rain.

There you go. Four reasons why taking me to the theatre usually ends in tears and destruction. Also, here is a fun activity to try. It might destroy your social life, but it is undeniably a fun activity to try.
Step 1: Buy a can of Pepsi and shake. (Any drink works as long as it's fizzy.)
Step 2: Hold to ear.
Step 3: Listen to the popping!!!
Step 4: Wonder what you are doing with your life.
That's all for now folks. Stop celebrating, there'll be another post tomorrow. You can decide if that's a threat or a promise. Unfortunately, it's Monday but you can be awesome nevertheless.

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Credits:

Writer: Joanna Koshy

Editing: Joanna Koshy

Reading and Mocking Continuously: Mom and Abi.          

                                                     THE END                                                          

I'm too sleepy to think of a title. Think of one yourselves. Wait, does this count? Talking to myself on the title of a post. SO cool. Stop freaking reading this and read the post!

Sorry, I'm cranky at two in the morning. I'm exceedingly sleep deprived. Yesterday I was sleeping on a train and we only had RAC tickets. For those of you who don't know what RAC means, it's an acronym. It stands for.... Ride on A Carriage from hell. Right. It was especially bad because my lovely mother, who is perfect in all other respects, can't book tickets online and as a result, we were stuck with four people and two tickets. That is actually not as bad as it sounds, although admittedly, it sounds pretty terrible. I had to sleep with my sister and so, clearly, I didn't. I spent half the night kicking her off my feet which she kept on trying to hug. Get off me, sibling, I am not your teddy bear. I am only a bear in the sense that I might do an annoyed grizzly and rip off your limbs if you snuggle up to my toes one more time. For someone whose really into the Beatles, I need a surprising amount of anger-management. I'm just kidding, I would never rip off anyone's limbs. Heads are so much more effective.
Hey y'all how's it going? I'm back in Bangalore!!! I am once again surrounded by people (five million of them!), buildings and garbage and, incredibly, I'm ecstatic. It's just home, y'know?
Usually my posts are about something definite and generally something no one cares about. Today I thought I'd just talk to you guys. I'm putting up a Sunday post because I forgot the Saturday one. Don't get used to this. This is going to be a bit emotional and cheesy so if you came here for snarky teenager, sorry bro.
Today I got my results and I feel like some part of my life has ended, like my existence so far is now clearly marked into two separate sections between which there are no similarities. I've finished tenth standard. I'm sixteen. I'm thinking of getting a summer job. My childhood is over. I'm freaking old.
You know how there are some things you remember so clearly from when you were a kid for no particular reason? One of those things I remember is being nine years old, in school, and telling my best friend "Hey, guess what, we'll be in eight standard one day." That was the extent of my looking forward to the future. Thirteen was the oldest I could imagine myself being. And now I'm turning sixteen in September! That's so weird.
I think that's one of the reasons I do this blog thing, other than not having a life, of course. Putting down my thoughts, my insignificant experiences and feelings, seems to me like preserving something that might have been lost forever other wise. I'm not a very important person, I'm just one Bangalorean with five million others, one Indian with another billion and one human being on a planet infested by an additional seven billion members of my species. Writing these weird, rambling posts feels like taking a little bubble of time, not in its real, true form but a downsized corrupted version,like a photograph of someone, and preserving it. When I'm sixty-four I can read this again and maybe, maybe remember a little bit of what it was like to be sixteen and an idiot (then of course I will be old and wise. Right? That's what happens right?)
Everybody has this urge, to leave some marks on the world, to prove that they were ever there. Some people do it by carving their initials into desks and some do it by shaping the futures of their generation. So this is my way of saying "JK WAS HERE 2012,"  I guess. No, I'm not just doing this 'coz I'm bored. Well, not completely because I'm bored.

Whoah, deep stuff. Introspection, y'all. It's underrated.

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P. S. I got 91% for anyone who's interested. ALSO, my brilliant father is giving me this as a reward:
http://www.sony.co.in/product/dsc-wx7/sku/dsc-wx7_pc++e37
Be jealous, be very jealous. Have a good Sunday! xoxoxo

R+J 4EVA

So I decided to drop the 'One with' thing. Unless I REALLY can't think of a title, you won't be seeing that again. I'm outside right now, with my little bro, at one-fifty in the afternoon. In the afternoon. My torso's in the shade but my legs are fully in the sun and they're evaporating. I swear it. Luluf's playing in the water though so he's cool.
Hey y'all how's it going? I'll be home by tomorrow!!! It took so much self-restraint not to put more exclamation marks after that. It's amazing how excited I am despite the fact that it means I'm going to get my results. Speaking of which, I'm thinking of holding a we're-so-screwed party on the nineteenth, preferably near a lake or on a terrace or something, for obvious reasons. BY THE WAY, something really cool happened in Kerala. I met someone not related to me who reads my blog! Yay! My life is not a failure! He didn't ask me to sign anything though, which was disappointing.
Bwahahaha, I've purposely been keeping my dad in suspense till now. Put away the shotgun Dad, R+J refers to Romeo and Juliet, one of the most horrible romances ever written. They die in the end. Apparently happy endings hadn't been invented by then.
Basically, Romeo and Juliet come from two rival noble families, the Montagues and the Capulets. The play begins with a street fight between them. You know how these things start, one Montague pushes a Capulet, a Capulet stabs him in return and before you know it they're all killing each other. The Prince of Verona, the city the play is set in, gets pretty pissed off about this, probably because they got blood all over his nice clean streets and he's all like, "further breach of peace will be punishable by death." Cue Capulet and Montague  "Awwww!" I guess they were too scared to start singing the party pooper song.
 Right after this, a Count named Paris meets Capulet, the head of the Capulet clan, and offers to marry little Juliet, his daughter, who was apparently a stunner even when she was just thirteen. Anybody else find that creepy? Senior Capulet does because he tells Count Paris to wait for a couple of years and then invites him to a party they're throwing so he doesn't feel too bad. What's really interesting in the play is the way you can actually see Juliet's character develop. When Mummy and Nurse tell the almost-fourteen Juliet that Paris has proposed to her, and to check him out at the Capulet ball that night, she answers first saying that she has never thought of marriage and then that she will try to like Paris as much as her mother wants her to. She seems naive in that scene and it's pretty obvious that she hasn't even thought of love yet.
Romeo on the other hand, playboy that he is, is at this point in love with somebody else, Rosaline, whom he comes to meet at the Capulet ball. He does like things he can't have, doesn't he? Well, the rest is pretty obvious. He meets Juliet, they fall in love and after a while they're married. The story goes kind of downhill from there and it ends with the scene in a graveyard where Romeo thinks Juliet is dead and poisons himself. Juliet wakes from her drugged sleep, she drugged herself to escape marrying Paris, another long story, just as he's breathing his last breath and then he dies with a kiss. Heart-broken Jules stabs herself with Romeo's dagger after which the grief-stricken families hear the full story from the Friar who married the lovers which leads them to make peace. And never was a story of more woe, than this of Juliet and her Romeo. Man, now I'm depressed. Happy Thursday!
Read the actual play. It's amazing, especially the balcony scene.

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Insert Witty Title Here

Guess what! We reached 500 views! *high-five!!!* Now if only you, my lovely reader, would take the trouble to move your mouse up to the upper left hand corner of your screen and click the follow button. I swear nothing bad happens. Sorry the posting's taking so long but I'm actually spending my time these days out of the house in the fresh air rather than in front of a computer screen. I don't think I qualify as a teenager anymore.
Oh and by the way to prove I wasn't lying:

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Hey y'all how's it going? I don't know why people say Kerala's boring. There is so much stuff to do here. Yesterday I cleaned out five kgs of chicken with my bare hands. Incidentally, this holiday was supposed to be fun.
 Let me take you through the different stages of cleaning chicken.
First its like "OMG OMG dead flesh get it away from me!"
Then you get kinda used to it and you're like, "Okay, whatever, lets just get this over with."
The third stage is definitely the most disturbing. Its the stage where you are gagging but oddly content. There is a sort of calm acceptance and satisfaction.
The next stage is when you hit the harder pieces that hide at the bottom of the basin. I'm not going to lie: this bit is terrible. The chicken you're handling at this point isn't that clean drumstick piece where you don't have to do anything. Its the horrible bit from deep inside the dead bird where all the gore and excess fat is attached. It took every ounce of my resolution to keep from throwing up all over the bloody bowl. Five minutes into this stage and you're swearing off meat for the rest of your life and deciding to go hit non-vegetarians in the face with a piece of tofu.
And by the last and final stage, you're just bored. The worst, most horrible thing about the whole experience was that the chicken tasted really good at the end.

Speaking of the kitchen, my fun duties in that hellish place do not only involve the routine handling of blood and gore, they also involve doing the dishes. Its not the enjoyable kind of doing dishes that you see in American movies where you just scrape everything into the sink and put the plate in a sleek silvery machine. Even though the conference center is amazingly technologically advanced, the one thing they don't have is obviously a dishwasher. Dear universe, we appreciate your sick sense of humour. 

Now normally I wouldn't be annoyed by having to clean utensils large enough to cook for fifty people in. What annoys me is that the large population of foreigners in the conference center never wash their own plates because apparently being from Norway and Canada is an excuse. Don't get me wrong, they are all lovely people and I adore them but sometimes I feel like dismembering them gently with a hack saw. So yesterday, I decided that would change. I positioned this girl at the kitchen entrance with two extremely large meat cleavers to convince the foreigners to do it themselves. Guess what happened. The @#$#%$$%#$ didn't even bring their own plates into the kitchen, they sent someone else to do it. Don't worry, justice will ultimately triumph, I just have to figure out a more threatening form of intimidation. Kerala loves me, people.

Anyway, that's all for now folks. I'm going out again (be very jealous of my amazing life). I'm having a pretty awesome holiday, all dead fowls considered, and I hope you're having a good summer too. Take care! xoxo

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The One About Earthquakes

Honey I'm ho-ome! Not really, I'm in Kerala but basically there will once more be posts! Stop cheering ladies, you're embarrassing me.
I've missed you guys! I really have! I was muttering to myself the entire trip thinking about all the things I would have to complain to you about when I got an internet connection again. By the way, Ooty was fun. I probably would have enjoyed it more if it wasn't for the volcanic temperature (we were staying at the foot of the hills), the lack of any technology more recent than the wheel and the allergic reaction, apparently caused by exposure to fresh air, that is causing a rash to spread all over my arms. Also, we went on the safari thing and we weren't devoured by tigers. Not even once. That last bit was slightly disappointing but on the whole it was a good trip.
Hey y'all how's it going? It's been a while and I know we have catching up to do but I think I should start blogging again with something important. A few days ago there was a huge earthquake originating from Indonesia, with a magnitude of 8.6 on the Richter scale. That is pretty freaking bad. A one on the Richter scale is basically for a failed earthquake. Nobody feels it and its kind of the loser earthquake that never actually does anything. A three is slightly better, it might cause minor damage but it's still pretty pathetic. A six is significantly more destructive. We're not talking about your grandmom's teeth rattling slightly, we're talking about damage in areas up to 160 kilometres.
This was an eight point six earthquake. We felt it in Bangalore, Mumbai, Chennai, even in Ooty, although I (of course) was underground in a restaurant so I didn't feel even the slightest tremor. There was a tsunami alert in all the coastal areas (that's lifted now by the way. Details here.). I wasn't affected at all during the 2004 tsunami because Bangalore's landlocked and incredibly stable seismic-wise (what?) but the effects of that one were globally devastating, so I think its pretty important that we actually know what to do if something like this happens again.
So here's what to do in an earthquake:
First of all, stop moving! It's not like you're trying to run on a shaking plank or something, the tectonic plates of the Earth are vibrating. You know, the planet we live on? Yeah, that. Don't try to run from it, you'll just be knocked over and then you'll look like a dork. AVOID LOOKING LIKE A DORK AT ALL COSTS.
Second, cover your head and neck. That's where the important stuff is located. I'll break this down: if something happens to your head or your neck you will DIE.
Third, if you can't take cover underneath something stable, find somewhere where its not likely that heavy things will fall on you. For example, if your Aunt Jemima's standing on a bridge, don't take cover underneath the bridge.
And that's basically it. You're welcome. New post soon!
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Next post: six things I love about Bangalore.

Happy Saturday!

OMG OMG, it's 11:47 pip emma here right now (yes I said pip emma, I'm trying to bring it back. NO, not really) which means I only have thirteen minutes to post something before it's tomorrow. Why I'm trying to do this is because I've decided to post something everyday and I would like to stick to that. It's a bit scary for me because a) I'm writing to a countdown (11:50 now!) and b) I usually take quite a long time writing my posts? So this is not going to be very well thought out or composed and if you want to stop reading now that's fine. Do whatever you want.
Hey y'all how's it going? Now before you say, oh em gee, she's such a slacker, get off the internet (11:52 aah!), I have a reason for posting this late! I came home at eleven and I was busy having a life till then ( no really. I was actually out of the house with people of my own age group. Whoo!!) so the only thing I actually have to talk about right now is the party I was at till a short time ago I guess. It was fun :) :) Detailed summary coming up as soon as I finish my daily post, so there's something to look forward to, hey? Okay, I've decided to keep writing till eleven fifty eight exactly, when I will publish this, so this is going to basically be just random rambling. Seriously, if you want to stop reading that's fine (11:55).
The only reason I actually remembered my blog is actually because I was watching charlieissocoollike on the Youtubes, it was just like one of his "stream of consciousness" videos and he said "vlog" which is when I remembered y'all. So, yes, this is his fault. Don't hate on him though, he's fantastic. Okay, 11:57 now!! Good night everybody!! Have a good rest of the weekend y'all.
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Aww, come on Mom.

Hey, I've just realized that after I publish this post, I will have posted once every day for the past four days. This has become a daily thing! Isn't this great? You can go to bed today secure in the knowledge that there WILL be another post tomorrow. (Cue group "Noooo!") Yes, yes I am threatening you. I'm hoping that at some point someone will actually PAY me to stop posting crap on the internet. And THAT ladies and gentlemen, is my plan to earn money for college. Feel free to emulate.
Hey y'all how's it going? Good? Great. Today's fascinating monologue is going to be about my mother. Now, I know it's not exactly cool or normal for a fifteen year old girl to feel this way, but I really love my Mum. She's a great person and I genuinely enjoy spending time with her. We get along better than most on the mutual agreement that we don't interfere with each other too much. By that I don't mean we don't have fights sometimes where we shriek at each other and lie on the floor screaming and flailing. I am a regular teenager to some extent and some things about my Mom really, REALLY annoy me. We actually had one of those fights an hour ago and I have calmed down to the point where I've stopped muttering angrily and throwing things, so I've decided to make a list of the things my Mom does that irritate me and post it on-line. See how much I sacrifice for you guys? I'm not going to get an allowance for the next three weeks.

Seven things I hate about my Mom:
(Sha...... sha)
1.     Sometimes if I'm on Facebook or something and I see a funny picture, I call Mum over to look at it. So she looks, and we're both like "OMG LOL ROFLMAO" and then she DOESN'T LEAVE. She just stays there watching. Using the internet when your Mum's watching is the. Most. Awkward. Thing. Ever. I have to scroll down really slowly and hope nobody posted anything stupid.
2.     So after I'm done showing my Mum the funny photo, and after I cough a couple of times in a don't-you-have-a-velociraptor-to-hit-with-a-banana sort of way, she leaves the room again. Here's what annoys me. She NEVER SHUTS THE DOOR. It's not that I'm watching porn or anything, I just like my privacy. (No, really Mum, if you're reading this, I don't watch porn. Stop checking the browsing history.)
3.     She is partial to my sister. All the time. See, I'm the eldest of three, and my little brother is autistic, which is why I completely understand that he gets a lot of attention and cookies, but why does my sister get more support than I do? For example, I recently got a new phone, an expensive one for which I have to pay half the amount (Thanks Mum. Love you too) and today I asked my sister to take care of it for forty-five minutes while I went for my piano class, because I was wearing Jeggings and you CANNOT fit a Samsung Galaxy into those pockets. After my class, I came out and my mobile was lying on a seat in a public place and my sister was gone. Naturally I was pissed off because I'm extremely careless with my things and I hate it when other people are. I feel like they're doing my job or something. So I stormed to the car, where my Mom and sis were waiting, in full Righteous Indignation mode and I started yelling at her. And then Mum took her side. She said it was my fault for a) buying things without functional pockets and b)taking my phone outside when I don't have functional pockets.What?! Ugh!!
4.     This is something that she probably does for my own good and that I shouldn't feel so annoyed about, but I really, really hate it. When I'm sitting in my room and I'm supposed to be studying, she sometimes opens the door, puts her head in, watches me for a few moments and then leaves. This pisses me off so much and I can't explain why. I know she's doing it because I really should be studying and she wants to make sure I do but it makes me want to listen to death metal and kill fluffy things. I need therapy.
5.     The fifth thing my Mom does that annoys me is when I tell her I want to do something crazy fun, but also crazy stupid/irresponsible, she says no,  we argue for a while and then she says, "Do whatever you want." I HATE that sentence. It's like the ultimate Mom weapon.
6.     She compares me to my cousins. Period.
7.     She makes me love her (D'aww! Thank you Miley!!)
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(EDIT: I just realized I didn't post anything on Thursday. Fail!)

Hey. How you doin'?

Admit it. You read the title with Joey Tribbiani's voice.
Hey y'all how's it going? Since this is my first post this is basically going to be about me (see how I said that like the other posts are going to be different?) so the first thing you should know about me is that I'm competitive. Seriously, I am majorly competitive. So when my cousin asked me to check out his new blog that he started I was all like "Pssh. I can do that." I didn't say that of course because aside from being competitive, I am also really fake. I hope you're keeping up with all these startling personality revelations. Are you making a list? Or, you know, a sandwich or something? I'm hungry.
As you might be able to tell, I have attention span iss- Ooohh look a speck of dirt on the screen! ANYWAY, when he asked me to read his first ever blog post, even though I was thinking my usual competitive thoughts like, "What is the plural of platypus?" what I said was, "OMG it's like so MEDOOLLL". No seriously though it's a good blog. You should look at it, which is why I have left a link at the bottom of this post (you're welcome Mike. Now pay up.)
Right, that was interesting, so anyway that is basically my inspiring story of why I started blogging. Don't you feel all warm and tingly inside? First post whoo! More will be coming soon *group yay!!*
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http://www.ohlookapenandpaper.blogspot.in/