Hang on, please

He is Sam. He is fourteen. I think he's very cool. He plays excellent football, and has a very good haircut. He wears his jeans too low, but it comes off as adorable to me. He's also very funny.
When he first moved here, all the little girls could not stop gushing. I think he deserved it.
He is always very sweet to me, apart from those jokes at my expense. He always asks me to play hide and seek. Sometimes, I do. Sometimes, I do not. But I do think he is very nice.
One thing, I do not like. He smokes too much. But what can I do?
His girlfriend is a girl named Angel. I think thats a very funny name, but what can I do?

This is the strange nature of a blog post; there's always a 'but'.

You know how they say, 'trouble comes on an idle Tuesday afternoon, when you least expect it.' And then it did, it finally did.

He fell off the terrace yesterday. He lay there shaking for fifteen minutes, until somebody found him. I did not have the guts to go and see his spattered blood, but my friends did. Its very, very serious and they're saying there's a very dim chance. Its mostly head injury, and with that, you can never say. I cannot imagine.
T'was very, very sad yesterday, it seemed like the whole world had come out to find out whats happening. I think he will like to know, that so many people care. I do too, very much.
His parents are not even in town; nobody can even begin to imagine what they'd be going through.

I prayed for him yesterday, and I hope he makes it.

We discussed Tuesdays With Morrie in school yesterday, our teacher had told us to read it. We had a fantastic time, talking about what we liked about Morrie, and what we didn't. He was a funny character, this Morrie. That book is all about death and nothing else has gone through my mind for the past few days. Yesterday was also Tuesday.
Morrie too is also very wise, no. He tells us all these great things about death, that if you learn to die, you learn to live. I liked his ideas about emotions and family more, the Theory of Detachment. A very good scene, part of the ocean, which we enacted out in class yesterday.
Death, death, death. It just won't end. Live like you're dying, my teacher had said.

Its quite funny the way Morrie absolutely dismissed everything he didn't believe in. The young are not wise, they have very little understanding, he says. He says we will always remain deficient if we keep getting manipulated by people who tell us to buy this perfume, and you'll look pretty, and buy that jeans, and you'll look sexy. This will never complete your spiritual development.

But here, I think, Morrie is wrong. He fails to understand that these things may be a part of somebody's spiritual development. Does that sound odd? I will feel very, very good if I buy a jeans that makes me look sexy. Better than if I, say, donate that money to a charity or something, however shallow that may sound.
I will feel absolutely ecstatic, if I buy a good perfume. Maybe its Morrie's age. I don't know. But he's not understanding, that deriving pleasure out of simple things in life IS development. Fine, the other love and devotion is important too, but what is so wrong with buying good stuff for yourself? Why shouldn't people buy  the next great car if they can afford it and will be on a high for the whole following year, thanks to that car. Don't chase materialistic things, he says. I don't find anything wrong in getting pleasure out of materialistic things.
What is wrong with being number two, Morrie also says. Lets be number two. But from where will we get the incentive to grow, if we're happy being number two? Sure, don't beat yourself for being number two. But at least try for number one next time, try to see what your faults were. Try to improve. I'm nowhere NEAR number one or two, see, but I like to rant.

But there are many things Morrie says that I agree with.
"Do the kinds of things that come from the heart. When you do, you won’t be dissatisfied, you won’t be envious, you won’t be longing for somebody else’s things. On the contrary, you’ll be overwhelmed with what comes back"

"Sometimes you cannot believe what you see, you have to believe what you feel. And if you are ever going to have other people trust you, you must feel that you can trust them, too - even when you’re in the dark. Even when you’re falling."

Very beautiful lines, all of these. He also says this- Death: the only true emotion felt in an apathetic world.
I don't know what to say. True? At one hand, he's talking about love and all its wonders, and then he says that death is the only true emotion? Is that possible?

So many questions.

Pray for him though please?

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But it makes me out of breath when you say..

Who doesn't  love the magic of a Saturday night out. Could be a date, could be a party, could be a girls night out, the excitement that this prospect triggers is amazing. It all begins with urgent phone calls, where, what, when, with who. How are we going, how are we coming back. And for people like me, "Mum, can I go?"
Its all very, very exciting. And then, once the plan is made, once everything is set, you settle down with a nice book or a movie to calm yourself. You try to forget about the plan, because over thinking it kills it somehow. You try to let it remain untouched, we'll see what we'll see. Don't think about it.

After immersing yourself in the book, you sneak a look at the clock and decide when to start getting ready. And when the time finally comes, you get up with a smile. The time before or after a party is the best. The anticipation of the whole thing, the imagining what will happen, how the night will end.

Then you start the hot water and take out the clothes and shoes (pre-decided). You take everything you'll need in the bathroom, the dry towels, the soap, the moisturizer, the dryer, the loofah and whatever else. You take your time and get rid of all the scents of the day. You wash your hair like crazy, determined to get it right. Then you dry them impeccably straight or curly or however. And finally, comes the most awaited part, when you get into the clothes, specially chosen for that occasion, matching perfectly, because on a Saturday Night, dear, they will. Now comes the Routine.

You put on the cream to even out the texture, then dab the powder to even out the tone. Eyes, you do with careful concentration, because for some reason, they are the most important. Slowly and conscientiously, you have to get them exactly right. Lip gloss, and a little something here and there. Then you walk over to the other side, and a spritz of your favorite perfume. Not too much, not too little. You walk towards the mirror, and give yourself the final once-over, nodding.

Now you take The Bag and put in all the essentials, which could range from as little as a phone and wallet or to phone, wallet, lip balm, eyeliner, comb, wet tissues, extra jacket and scarf, small snacks (if the food is bad), cards, earphones, a pair of flats and some.
Then you add on the accessory, earrings or a bracelet or a scarf and then finally, you are ready.

When you walk down the stairs, or take the elevator, and happen to bump into someone, they give you a knowing smile and you smile satisfactorily in return. They know its a Saturday Night Out. You love the sound your shoes make and the echo they generate.

Its time, oh yes, its time.

The equally favorite part is the after party time. When you're so exhausted, you have no idea what you are saying any more, but then, you don't care anymore. When even the most absurd things make sense, and those conversations, when recollected later, make you cringe. You're in a daze. But the sweetest, most wonderful part is when you sit down to think about all that had happened that night, all the fun you had, all the nonsense you had said and even that, for some reason, was very appreciated, you just can't stop smiling. Your cheeks ache, but you can't.

As you are minutes from falling asleep in the night, you close your eyes with absolute contentment, knowing what a good, good night it had been.

As Parrot M., or rather the cheap video that I finally convinced S. to tell me about says,
YAY. Its party time. :)

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The Girl from another World

When I was a kid, okay, I loved to watch this show called Shaka Laka Boom Boom. It was about a kid, Sanju,  who had a magic pencil, and whatever he drew from that pencil, came to life. Quite a dangerous concept, but he was a good kid, you know, pretty self-righteous, and he would never draw anything bad from it. So much did I believe in his goodness and his fun loving nature that well, I had the hugest crush on him. Plus the fact that he was outoftheworld cute. I mean, which little girl wouldn't have a crush on him, he was the epitome of everything good and fun in the world. Until I grew up and realized that all guys are jerks, but thats another story.

So I was in fourth or something, when I went to Mumbai for a trip and I don't know how, but by some twist of fate, some fluke of luck, my father somehow got his phone number for me. I was ecstatic. Absolutely, I don't think I had ever jumped so much in my life. Sanju. Sanju. His name kept ringing in my head. But my job is done, my father said. Its your turn now. So after rehearsing a million times what I was going to say to him and my thumbs under my fingers, I dialed, and miraculously, that number was not fake, it worked. It ringed, once, twice, three times and a woman picked up. I asked her timidly if I could speak to Kinshuk (his real name) and she told me he was at shoot or something. And she said he would call back once he got free and how did I get that number, which made me realize that it must be a pretty inside number. 

That said and done, he never called back and I didn't expect him to, with him being a big star and all. But even at that age, I was a persistent, little bugger so I called and called and called until his mom got sick of me and put him on the phone (thank God there wasn't the Reject Call application in those days). Anyway, all that I had rehearsed, I forgot right away and mumbled incoherent nonsense. My dad took pity and convinced him to meet me In McDonald's. OH YES. LIKE A DATE? MAYBE.

Just with parents and stuff, cuz I was nine. And he was twelve, I add slyly, whenever narrating this story to my friends. 

The day finally arrived and I remember I had bought a Mickey Mouse photo frame from Pantaloons to gift him. He didn't get anything. Typical. I remember every single detail of that day, even the color of his jacket, because I've recalled that moment so many times. 
The point I'm trying to make is, meeting him was like meeting the ultimate star at that time. I used to worship Sanju and his friends, they were like people from another world. And even when I met him, although tangible, he was still a person from a different world, a completely different world. 

As time passed, I still had his number but I never called again, although you would expect an obsessed fan to call again and again until the person being stalked changed his number. But for some reason, I never did. Years passed, and I narrated this incident to shrieks of laughter(guys) and lots of 'awwws'(girls). And two days ago, I found him on Facebook. But please, who isn't on Facebook, so that bit wasn't a surprise.
And neither was it a surprise that he was hot now. That was to be expected. 
The surprising part was, how, normal he was. As normal as, well, me. He is in college, currently not acting to focus on studies. But the rest was, all, very normal, like just another teenager. And then I found this other girl too, who played Ritu in the show, one of the main people in the cast, and she has a blog too which I read and was absolutely SHOCKED to read how normal her rambles were! I don't know what I was expecting, stories of starry tantrums maybe, or anecdotes of the 90210 life. But it was as normal as my life, or maybe even less!

I don't know how to put across the enormity of my realization, that these people, who I thought belonged to another world, a world filled with magic and fun and dancing in the rain and rescuing people, were just like me. And not only in the essential sense, no, in every possible sense right down to how we spend our evenings! 
Even this second, the thought seems so surreal, that these people are just like me! Its very strange.
A moment of awakening? I don't know.
Most people I know would say, Srishti, of course magic doesn't exist, you've got to be absolutely stupid to be still thinking that these people are different.
But its not the magic part, it isn't. Its something else, something different.

I just hope I'm able to digest this bit of information before something equally unnerving is hurtled my way again! 

Yes, go on laugh, yes you. I'll be doing the same when this moment comes to you.

School holidays extended till 17th!! Now, THIS is the life.

Whatte feeel :)

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For lack of a better post

Its been very, very long since I have blogged and I deserve a slap, totally.

And I deserve an even tighter slap for what comes next-

Witness this conversation,

Me (watching someone opening the their lunch box): You're having your food now? Its eleven-thirty, my food is finished at eight in the morning!
Girl #1: I know, I'm really hungry, I haven't had anything since morning.
Girl #2: Me too, except Jili's cheese toast.
Girl #3: I usually eat early in the morning, but today I didn't.
Me: Yes, because I asked for a statement from everyone in the class.

Which, sadly, is what you get when there are only six guys, and the rest all girls, in your class.

Now this,

Random Girl: You know, in a village in India, there's a tradition in which new borns, little babies are made to bathe in boiling, hot milk.
Me (horrified, more so because I had just read Six Graves to Munich, and its SCARY): How sad! Think of all the poor babies.
Ess: How sad! Think of all the milk wasted.

Now this is one guy who I would like, to be in my class.

See the difference?

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Ohh, everything's okay!

Fifteen days ago, we met at the airport. Oh no, I'm not about to narrate a romantic encounter; my French Exchange partner! Raphaelle looked like a little, shriveled up creature when we first met at the airport because first they had taken a train from Grenoble to Lyon, then from Lyon to Paris where they spent the night at the airport and then they took the plane to India; so everyone was very, very tired. And so it began.

There are so many, so many, things I could say about the past fifteen days, its not even funny. When Raphaelle came to live with me for two weeks, she was an absolute stranger to me. Our virtual conversation had been limited and we didn't know each other at all. And of course at that time, I didn't know that language was gonna give us so much trouble. And to spend all hours of two weeks with a person to whom you have never spoken in your life is a scary thought; especially if you don't share a common language.

The French pronunciation is so different that even if you know the word they are saying, you're not able to understand. One time in the car, Farah and Raphaelle asked me, "Can we 'ave zose, circle, circle, sweet zsingz, uhhh, orange and sweet?"
"Jalebi?" I asked.
"Yeah, yeah!" they said. "Can we 'ave zose with onioney?"
What I could make out of that peculiar word was...onions.
"You want to have jalebi with onions?" I asked, weirded out.
Everyone burst out laughing; jalebi with oninons would be the strangest thing ever.
"You know, zat, 'onee? 'Oneen?"
"Honey!" Jili offered! That makes much more sense.

There were so many hilarious situations like these, when we couldn't understand what they were saying and interpreted something else entirely. In the beginning, I felt like banging my head on the wall out of frustration but as the days passed, we understood each other better and by the time they were about to leave, I could complete Raph's sentences easily. If were standing in a place, Raph would say, "What we wait?" which meant, what are we waiting for. If she wanted to know how much time was left till we reached a place, she would say,
"How many times, we uhhhh, we....uhh..."
"-reach?" I would say, and she would nod. Every time they understood something we would say, there would be an expression of great realization on their faces and they would say, "OH! Oh yeahhh!"

And the French, or maybe Europeans in general, have amazing manners. Too much of them, if you ask me. After every second sentence, Raph said thank you. No kidding. When she asked me if she could take a shower and I would say, yes, of course, even then, she would get a big smile on her face and say thank you. It's very French to say thank you, she told me. And every morning and night, she would wish everyone in home good morning and good night. " At my 'ome, " she told me, " we wish each ozerr all ze time. My muzerr make me, uhh, kiss 'er goodnight everyday."
I can't remember the last time I kissed my mother, let alone kiss her goodnight. It makes me wonder if I'm a little ungrateful to the people I know.

Their food habits are equally proper. And strange, if you ask me. She eats no spices at all. She can eat anything at all, if there's no spice in it. And I mean no spice AT ALL. I don't understand how they swallow all that bland, plain food. I find food pretty much tasteless without spices.
"Izn't it....odd," she looked at me to confirm if the word she used was right or not. I nodded. "Zat in France, it eez so cold but we do not eat spice, but in India it eez so 'ot and you eat so many spice. It eez....laugh, laughing?" she asked me.
"Ironic," I tell her.
"Ironic," she says.
But I guess its okay, because the French are more fond of eating sweet stuff rather than salty. Her every meal is incomplete without deserts. There would be a nagging voice in their head if they did not eat deserts. And in the breakfast, they have never taken salt. Never! Once I made her try idli-sambar for breakfast and she ate one idli with such a disgusting face that my mother took pity on her and gave her her beloved bread and confiture(jam).
And they eat so little! They hardly take breakfast and don't even snack in between meals. I live on snacks! Partially, because no matter however much I eat, I don't gain an ounce but I think everyone here is quite fond of little snacks. Hence the snacks before dinner tradition in Indian parties. "We will starve when we got to France yaa, " Navya said to me. " I'm gonna take lots of biscuits and Haldiram packets to France, in case they expect us to wait for mealtime or something."
"But my brozerr eat so much," Raph told me. "I don't know 'ow can 'ee eat so much. 'Eee do a lot of sport. I'm sure, if 'ee do not do sports, 'ee become a very, very fat man."

This one time, Raph and I were waiting outside a restaurant for the others.
"Srishtee, " she says in her French accent. "In France, on zuh roads I see so many, so many people kissing and 'olding 'ands, walking togezzurr, but 'ere, I see nobody!" she held up her hands in surprise. "In our school too, zere are so many, so many coouples and zey are always kissing, but 'ere, nobody!"
It was quite funny.

And they loved traveling by auto-rickshaw. 'Tuk-tuk', they called them. Lets go by tuk-tuk.

But not everything was hunky-dory. My partner, and I'm not talking about the French in general, mostly didn't like Indian things. All she bought was 4 scarves and box, although she had carried a lot of money for shopping. She didn't like Janpath, hated Dilli Haat, couldn't stand Red Fort and didn't buy any souvenirs. She preferred going to the mall and the amusement park and parties and drinking rather than going to any historical monument or seeing anything ethnic. Which was a little disappointing, but it was okay because I tried my best and if they didn't take interest, it was their loss. I'm all ready to soak up everything French. :D

In the beginning, a lot of us couldn't establish a rapport with their partners. We were all so sick of them and their English. "These French people, " I said, "are like a bug you can't get rid of. And the worst part is, you paid for that bug. " We were all very glad when they were all taken to Jaipur without us for two days. Because staying with them all the time meant taking care of them every second of the day, and that is not easy. I will never take my parents for granted now. Even when we Indians talked, we talked about these French as if they were our kids; we discussed about their habits, their likes, dislikes, and all. So aunty-ish, I tell you.
And that when the French were so unconcerned and unaffected by all did we did for them. As soon as they saw their friends, they jabbered away in rapid French and forgot everything else. But I guess thats everywhere. Our teacher told us that we'll do the same when we go there, its natural.
French people were also quite flaky. Sometimes, their mood, humeur, was so good they couldn't stop gushing, how nice Indians were. And sometimes they were very curt and short. "I can't wait to go to France to create a fuss and watch them take care of us."
I couldn't agree more. These past two weeks, its like we don't have a life of our own. We take care of them all the time and have no time ofr our freinds, or for our hobbies. There's this constant nagging, worry in our heads if they are feeling fine.

There are just so many, so many things I've learned these past few days. Raphaelle is one of the most awesome people I've ever met. She travels so, so much and she told me all about her trips to New York and California and Egypt and morocco and Europe. She has great knowledge about every city she has visited and our shared love for movies made it very easy for us to make conversation once we were in the humeur. We have had so many long talks about different cities and places. You know how every city is mostly defined by a typical thing of that city? Like if someone says Paris, I would say fashion. If someone says New York, I would say Times Square or I dunno, maybe a fast paced life. If someone said USA to Raphaelle, she would say crazy people.Absolutely bizarre! And I used to think London is more industrial kinda city, more about jobs, Paris has more artists. But Raph says thats not true anymore. There has been a great mix of culture and you can't really define a city by just one thing typical to it. Its just a great, big, mish-mash now. In this mish-mash, so much mixes together and emerges as something entirely new and different. Like we start with primary colours, Red, Green and Blue but if we keep mixing and mixing, there's no end to the colours we develop.

We've had deep, insightful talks like these in addition to the extremely stupid situations. When Raphaelle saw my French notebook, she had tears of laughter in her eyes. " Zis eez my life, zuh things I do and you are studying eet! Eetz too funny!" she said, laughing.

It was quite sad yesterday, when the whole day we talked about her going away. Six months, we kept saying. We see each other after six months. "But you know, " Raphaelle said. "Six months eez nothing. Tell me, what izz six months in life? They'll pass like zis!" she snapped her fingers. "You go to school, you do 'omework, you ski in winter, make snowman, and zen you are 'ere!"

At the airport, everyone was saying all this cheesy stuff like, "Don't cry that its over; smile that it happened" and all that. But we didn't shed a tear. I mean, I was sad and all but I needed to be on my own for sometime now too!

As we were coming back after taking her to the airport, I remembered when two weeks ago, I had come to pick her up. When she had gotten in the car, she was sitting at the back and she had strapped her seatbelt on. I've never, ever put on my seatbelt, especially when I'm at the back. So I told her, "You don't need to put your seatbelt on, its okay." Raphaelle had smiled and said, "Ohh, everything's okay!" and kept her seatbelt on.

Two weeks later, her words seemed true. That yes, everything IS okay. Its how you make of situations that make them okay or not okay. You can get along well with a stranger with whom you don't share a common language or culture and have the time of your life or you can sit and crib and cry about it.
Everything is okay; its what you make of it. There were good times and bad times but, all's well that ends well.

This was just one small episode in my life; maybe I'll have many, many more like these. If I get to make new friends and learn new things about different cultures, lifestyles and maybe even languages, I'm sure I'll love it.

You know how everyone and everything, people, things, places, all have separate distinct scent? Raph's scent is still lingering in the room, I sometimes catch a whiff of it. But I know it'll be lost in a day or two.
 Until six months later.

Cuz its not the end; its actually the beginning.

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Don't Rain on my Parade

“This award is bestowed upon a fellow blogger whose blog’s content or design is, in the giver’s opinion, brilliant.”

Some rules of the Game:

a) Show off your honesty (and modesty) by thanking the person who gave you the award and link to their post.

b) List 15 honest things about yourself. Cheating makes you lame, so just play along, all you taggees.

c) Select 7 other bloggers you think deserve this award and pass it on to them.
d) Notify said bloggers about the award and invite them to be the honest ones next.

Okay, so first: Thanks TUIB, I think that your blog is absolutely fabulous. I get to read all kinds of stuff there, from beautiful poems to classy book reviews to just simple, childhood experiences, all written straight from the heart. You're awesome! :)


1. I am super-paranoid when alone. I mistrust everyone, which is really stupid because people have better things to do than scheme against me. That doesn't stop me from mentally calculating escape routes, imagining worst case scenarios and planning what I would do in case something goes wrong.

2. I love shops. I love their colorful displays, their logos and the names written artistically, how there is so much stuff in there, sitting on the shelves, waiting to be bought. One day, I'll have a shop of my own and it will have all kinds of weird, whacky stuff in it which the kids can buy and then take it to school and make their friends jealous.

3. One of my favorite books ever is..The Princess Diaries. There. I said it. Most of my friends have chucked those for good now, but I feel absolutely no shame in saying that yes, I still read them at night. I know that most sane people dismiss them as crass and it is for giggly, 13-year olds but I love them. I've been reading them since I was 12 and I have gotten so familiar with Mia's ramblings, her references to New York and food and TV and movies, the irritating way she goes on and on about how her life is over, that whenever I'm a little sad or lonely, all I have to do is read an excerpt and I feel satisfied. It feels like home to me. 

4. If I get a chance to play a role in any movie of my choice, I would choose the role of Parminder Nagra in Bend It Like Beckham (Titanic, which is my favorite movie, doesn't count. The movie AFTER your favorite movie) primarily because: a) Jonathan Rhys Meyers would be in love with me. b) Keira Knightley would be my best friend. c) I'd be a terrific football player. d) Its the perfect mix of Indian-ness and western-ness, football and weddings which is something I very much admire as its very hard not to lose yourself out there. e) Gurinder Chadha is an amazing director and the cast and crew looks so much fun, evident in this video:

5. I'm a compulsive shopper. If I see something that I like, I buy it. If I'm not able to, I fantasize about buying it and what I'd do with it until I buy it.

6. I love reading maps. Although my sense of direction is hopeless, I can sit and stare at a map for ages, reading the names of all the places there and trying to imagine what the people in those places would be doing right now. Coming back from school, ordering pizza, taking out the laundry....millions of individual lives on that one tiny piece of paper.

7. I want to work as a Romance Director for some time when I grow up . Its not an official profession, but I once saw on Travel & Living (TLC from 1st of September!) that the really expensive honeymoon resorts, which have every facility you can possible imagine AND MORE, hire a person who thinks up cute things for the honeymoon couple to do, and then lets them take the credit. Like if the husband wants to gift something to his wife and he doesn't know what, the Romance Director gets to know the wife by talking to her, interviewing the husband and all and then thinks up of the perfect gift and the best way to present it, letting the husband take all the credit while the wife goes "aww, I love it, OMG, this is just what i wanted." The Romance Director's laughing, seeing all this and will get an AMAZING load of money for doing this. Hell, I'd do it for free.

8. I love movies which are set some years back, like in the early 1900's or so. They reflect a beautiful charm, which is hard to find in movies these days. 

9. The whole of 9th and 10th, Brinda Ma'am kept trying to teach us French. But we didn't study; we were more interested in talking to her about perfumes and Paris. Now that I'm a part of the French Exchange, all I want to do is speak French all day. Shubhra and Surabhi teach me, since they are very good at French. I want to be able to converse with my french partner when she comes here, but more importantly impress her 19 year old brother when I go there with my French skills. Even though I studied French for a long time in school, I couldn't speak a coherent sentence in French until the the French Exchange news and the other day "I'm going avec elle" got out of my mouth.

* I think I forgot to mention it. My French partner's name is Raphaelle and she's coming to live with me in October for 15 days. She's absolutely cool, not only because she has an older brother (Pierre), but also because she travels a LOT and will have great stories to tell and (hopefully) wouldn't be the Snotty-French-Girl-Difficult-To-Bear when she's here. I'll go to stay at her place in May for 15 days and I CANNOT WAIT!

10. I classify activities into bad things (studying, doing anything assigned to me, basically things I should do) and good things (watching TV & movies, reading books, basically things I want to do). So if I have to do a bad thing, I need a good thing to look forward to because if the good thing isn't there, I won't be able to sit through the bad thing and eventually fall asleep. Thats why no matter what is on, I have to watch TV from 10 to 11 in the night. Like, I didn't mind the half-yearlies in September since October and November will be two great months. Besides, we are SUPPOSED to get bad marks in 11th, otherwise, how else will we learn?

11. I really LOVE stories that have strong, female characters, ESPECIALLY if they are evil. Like Wilhelmina Slater from Ugly Betty [ Whats the matter, people still view me as a drop dead gorgeous fashion Nazi] or Sue Sylvester from Glee [You know, the way you use your mental illness to help these kids is really inspiring. I'm shocked you're not married.]
But hey, good female characters are fun too, like Dr. Brennan from Bones.

12. I want an accent like Hilda's from Ugly Betty.

13. Ever since I've started studying Psychology, I absolutely love to provide a psychological reason justifying a behavior or an event. It really irritates other people sometimes. :D

14. I once bought a Superman t-shirt because the guy selling them was really cute. Pathetic, hun?

15. There's a girl who lives in my building, and when I grow up, I want to be just like her. She has an amazing sense of style and the hugest collection of formal skirts ever. Every evening, i meet her in the elevator, coming back from work wearing her sophisticated skirts and heels or going away to party. Also, she wears really good perfume.

Okay, so I tag Daksha,Neetu , Ketan, Priyanka Mishika, Soin and Rohith.

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Pass yaa fail?

My dad sent me this text:

" I failed in some subjects in exam, but my friend passed in all. Now, he is an engineer in Microsoft and I am the owner of Microsoft."- Bill Gates

So I texted back: Does that mean I'm allowed to fail?

Dad: If you want to fail, be sure to turn out like Bill gates.

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