Before the wryness settled in

I saw my marks and burst out into an absolutely hysterical cackle. 75 in English and 93 in Business Studies?! How did that come about?!

A Bad Week

#1. Nearly drowned. Not very nearly, but nearly enough. And let me tell you, in case you have never been there, it is more of a strange sensation than particularly frightening (or, more plausibly my nervous system is plugged up all wrong). Almost gulped down mouthfuls of water, but remembered to not, saying to myself, "Ew! God knows what has been in here!",  and spewed it out reflexively. Somehow just did not remember to scream or, I don't know, lift my head and breathe. So, yes it sounds unreasonable, but, hey, in my defense I was conscious of how close the life-guard was and, thus, the consequent lack of need to panic and flail around, or rather, flail more than necessary. (The life-guard was pretty sure that I would not enter the pool for some time now, but I did, feeling all Douglas Adam-ish)
#2. Didn't make it to NLU-D. Damn. I did really want to. I knew I wouldn't, but it still wasn't pleasant seeing it in writing.
#3. Discovered I have ego issues. Never nailed myself to be the type to get all competitive. I normally am not. Hardly if ever. But there I was, going all red and hostile and feeling all sucky.
#4. Was weepy on pathetic things. Episode of Ghost Hunt, article in RD. Oh, boo!
#5. Had my wish fulfilled. Had more books to read than I can take (Gasp! Is this really happening?!). Most of them the wrong kind too (Gasp! They exist?!).
Plus side-
Mad Over Donuts (Sigh!)
Secrets and Lies (Finally)
Cookie something, Mother Dairy
Mother load of new songs!
I am so easy to please.

Rut

I don't recall going through a writer's block longer than this one seems to last. Words simply escape me. Everyone knows that feeling of having a word almost on the tip of their tongue but not quite. So you know how absolutely frustrating it is. I am experiencing that. Every 5 minutes. Soon I'll slit a nerve or simply burst a vein if this doesn't change and fast.
Normally I don't get distracted by background noises. I mean, hello, I live in CP. But, recently, infact even right now, the faintest of whispers are more than enough to completely shatter any excuse of a creative thought I might be nurturing.
Epiphanies continue, of course, but I can no longer retain them long enough to thread them into any meaningful... meaningful... thing (godarnit!).
One of which I do remember is- it is almost always a choice between being happy and being right, isn't it.
My sentences are also slowly losing grammatical coherence.

Well. That's that.

PS- GK modules being the insipid things they are, I am balancing off going through them by reading Vampire Diaries. That's it, isn't it?! The reason behind this all!!! I don't even like the 'book' (if you must call it that)! I need a life! And a beer! And a knife! And my mommy!!!

"You cannot learn a thing you think you know"
This line has haunted me ever since I heard it. The reason is lost to me.

Second Day at the Gym

I creak.

First Day at the Gym

1. School gym teachers are angels.
2. There should be a law against misnomers.

45 minutes is all it took to deduce the above.
It has been half an hour since I came back home and I am still dizzy.
The trainer, by the way, has excellent taste in music. He can sing Highway to Hell to perfection, accent and all.
He is also quite ruthless with the stretches.

Of course, then, I have been waking up at 5:30 in the morning and going for prep classes. 4 hour long prep classes. 4 hour long with negligible break prep classes.

You see, me vacations are not turning out to be quite as relaxing as I had hoped they would be.

(I feel sick. Make the laptop stop moving!)

-,_-

To do in April...


New 'To do in April' List-
-> CLAT Classes

*Sigh*
...
...
...

Hey, try saying that fast- "CLAT Classes, CLAT Classes, CLAT Classes, CLAT Classes..."

Sob!

Sniff! I... (hic)... I... (hic)... I-I-I try t-tuh-to write, but I can't! I-I try tuh write a poem, b-but it just doesn't come! I am losing it!
Bawl!

Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears and sympathy. I, Kirra Serra, bid adieu till we next hear from each other. That would be sometime in March. If, that is, I have anything left in me- courage, self-esteem, wit, rational thought, anything.
While I am out of action, do try to get something happening on the Make Boards Illegal front, for the greater good.
And thus,
Au Revoir.
PS- Merry Christmas, Happy New Year.
PPS- I will occasionally drop by (or so I like to think) and perhaps reply to some comments, should anyone bother to. Well wishes are appreciated. In fact, they are begged for.

I have never EVER been able to use Fevi-Quick without sticking my fingers together.
In some households acetone is an essential for other reasons than just being a nail-enamel remover.

I see you gray.
You rest below.
Yours is the last word,
Irrevocably so.

And now, as you finally rest in peace, I seek mine.

Mosquito                                                  Me
    III                                                          -

I walk out of my house to go for my classes and see that the elevator is not working. I live on the 8th floor, hence this is no joke. All the same I descend the sixteen flights, praying furtively that three hours are enough to get the darn thing running. Once out of my colony, I am taken aback by the tetris-like traffic. But, living in Connaught Place, take it to be usual. A little way ahead I discover the reason behind it anyway.A staggering multitude of people are stubbornly obstructing the path to my afore-mentioned goal. A juloos. After trying to swim upstream despite the formidable opposition, I give up and turn around, this time walking up the sixteen flights.
I fail to see the humour. Miserably.
Try climbing up sixteen flights yourself and so will you.

I am now an enforced hypocrite... and I am not certain if that justifies it.

Also, as is obvious, twitter is my calling.

I will miss all of this, won't I

 

 

The J

 

The M

 

 

The S

 

The L

 .........

Courtesy: The CJM community on fb.

It sits ablush in morning glory.

A small little thing, a short new story.

Too small, insignificant. It doesn't matter.

But oh, too small, give it some water.

The stem, pale green, bows to the ground.

It's too young and weak to lift it's crown.

It is too small, it will die soon.

It won't be around to even meet the moon.

No one will remember it when it's gone.

It leaves only its leaves to mourn.

The grass, the leaves, the bowed down stem.

It was special all alone, and alone to them.

The Letter

Cleaning the cupboard
In the house we shared.
Cleaning out the things
For which I never cared.

A rusted pin, a broken pen,
A reciept of the laundry
And suddenly I discovered
A letter that you sent me.

It spoke of things I remember not,
You wrote when you were far away,
Of things long past which I forgot,
But I remember now, I remember that day.

You talked of wonders that you saw.
You wrote of things all new.
I kept it in the box full of others.
Now these are the cherished few.

A few days later I got another
And this would be the last.
It was from a lawyer saying
That you had died in the blast.

He offered me solace,
He said he understood,
But I listened to none
For I knew he never would.

I was sad. I was dead,
I was just quiet.
Forgetting you was not easy
Even though I did try it.

But that is all past and gone,
Though you shall never be
And I burn this letter hoping you'll get it
And maybe will remember me.