Date: 30.10.2007
Time: 10:26 a.m.
What a pretty picture you paint
When you work those words into
Portraits of despair ...
What a pretty picture you sketch
When you etch those lines into
Words instead.
What’s that word again?
I can’t think of it now
Forgive my incompetence
I can’t change what I am, can I?
What a pretty picture you draw
When you sculpt those thoughts into
Images from your heart ...
What a pretty picture you sketch
When you etch those lines into
Words instead.
What’s that melody again?
I can’t remember it now
Forgive my incoherence
I can’t express myself well, can I?
That memory of yours that I’ve
Locked away, away
Away from my eyes
Remembrance only brings tears
That even pain cannot
Take away.
Darkness is my comfort
It’s my safety nest where I
Let my heart howl silently
Darkness is my muse
It’s the incomprehensibly calming
Harbinger of peace.
What’s that thought again?
I can’t recall it now
Forgive my ignorance
I can’t change what I am, can I?
End: 10:45 a.m.
Tuesday, 30 October 2007
Friday, 26 October 2007
Drowning Metaphors
Date: 26.10.2007
Time: 11:10 a.m.
When you are drowning while trying to cross a violent and turbulent river, you don’t really think of, say, famine victims in Ethiopia, do you? You are somewhat preoccupied with the abundant water that is rushing into your body — into your lungs and choking you and smothering that fiery spirit of yours. At that point of time you are too overwhelmed as you flap your arms wildly to stay afloat and not sink down to a watery grave.
You haven’t reached the stage where you’ve successfully crossed the river and are now looking back complacently and condescendingly at those who haven’t yet done so. You’re still too busy drowning, right? So how can you possibly know that your struggle against the raging waters ‘was’ not as difficult as it had appeared to you back when you were suffocating?
The trials one faces in life are a lot like that, aren’t they? People, presumably ‘adults’ or ‘grown-ups’, who have ‘seen much of life’ claim that teenagers dramatise everything. Perhaps they do. However, quite often, these ‘grown-ups’ refuse to realise and acknowledge the gravity of many situations. They forget the intensity of their own perceptions back when they were teenagers. Perhaps it is required for them to move forward in life. But then, it doesn’t quite help that drowning teenager who is left to save herself without any support in sight. Again, maybe it is the best way to grow up — being independent and surviving without ever asking for help.
End: 11:25 a.m.
Time: 11:10 a.m.
When you are drowning while trying to cross a violent and turbulent river, you don’t really think of, say, famine victims in Ethiopia, do you? You are somewhat preoccupied with the abundant water that is rushing into your body — into your lungs and choking you and smothering that fiery spirit of yours. At that point of time you are too overwhelmed as you flap your arms wildly to stay afloat and not sink down to a watery grave.
You haven’t reached the stage where you’ve successfully crossed the river and are now looking back complacently and condescendingly at those who haven’t yet done so. You’re still too busy drowning, right? So how can you possibly know that your struggle against the raging waters ‘was’ not as difficult as it had appeared to you back when you were suffocating?
The trials one faces in life are a lot like that, aren’t they? People, presumably ‘adults’ or ‘grown-ups’, who have ‘seen much of life’ claim that teenagers dramatise everything. Perhaps they do. However, quite often, these ‘grown-ups’ refuse to realise and acknowledge the gravity of many situations. They forget the intensity of their own perceptions back when they were teenagers. Perhaps it is required for them to move forward in life. But then, it doesn’t quite help that drowning teenager who is left to save herself without any support in sight. Again, maybe it is the best way to grow up — being independent and surviving without ever asking for help.
End: 11:25 a.m.
Thursday, 25 October 2007
Speechless
When you live keeping your expectations at the barest minimum, and people come by and decide to threaten even the little that you have kept aside for yourself, it hurts. Your existence seems threatened ... once again. And you wonder whether all the effort you put into working towards actually feeling that smile you keep on your face was worth the energy and time. It is worse when people who supposedly know you think that you should “learn to joke” about a time when you were at your worst.
I am going to revert back. I know it. It is only a matter of time. Guess I can’t keep pretending to myself much longer. How lovely. There is nothing else to say.
I am going to revert back. I know it. It is only a matter of time. Guess I can’t keep pretending to myself much longer. How lovely. There is nothing else to say.
Monday, 22 October 2007
Stolen Slumber
Date: 22.10.2007
Time: 3:08 a.m.
Much restless tossing and turning later
She rises from slumber with a jolt
The nightmare — or was it one?
Receding into oblivion
As she struggles to close her eyes once more.
A glass of water downed in pain
Of parched lips and throat so dry
That hungered for those rejuvenating drops
Of clear sustenance
As she struggles to close her eyes once more.
The ceiling fascinates two weary eyes
Puffy from the loss of peace
The way only a fellow-sufferer knows
Staring into space
As she struggles to close her eyes once more.
Unholy hour, it is that draws her
Away from her moment of calm
Those few hours of serenity fleeting
And another glass drained in agony
As she struggles to close her eyes once more.
Those rotating blades offer no bit of rest
With violent motion round and round
Never ceasing; locked eyes tire
But not enough
As she struggles to close her eyes once more.
A wearied glance cast at the clock
Which mocks the dullness of her hollow gaze
And those many hours till daylight descends
So many! She endures resigned
But those hands remain still, unchanged.
End: 3: 23 a.m.
Time: 3:08 a.m.
Much restless tossing and turning later
She rises from slumber with a jolt
The nightmare — or was it one?
Receding into oblivion
As she struggles to close her eyes once more.
A glass of water downed in pain
Of parched lips and throat so dry
That hungered for those rejuvenating drops
Of clear sustenance
As she struggles to close her eyes once more.
The ceiling fascinates two weary eyes
Puffy from the loss of peace
The way only a fellow-sufferer knows
Staring into space
As she struggles to close her eyes once more.
Unholy hour, it is that draws her
Away from her moment of calm
Those few hours of serenity fleeting
And another glass drained in agony
As she struggles to close her eyes once more.
Those rotating blades offer no bit of rest
With violent motion round and round
Never ceasing; locked eyes tire
But not enough
As she struggles to close her eyes once more.
A wearied glance cast at the clock
Which mocks the dullness of her hollow gaze
And those many hours till daylight descends
So many! She endures resigned
But those hands remain still, unchanged.
End: 3: 23 a.m.
Sunday, 21 October 2007
Changing Song
Date: 21.10.2007
Time: 5:25 p.m.
Changing colours
Changing rhymes
And I watch that leaf
Fall down from autumn’s branches.
There are new notes
Drifting in the air
New refrains of a season —
One forgotten, one awaited
Soaring melodies
Like that pretty white bird
That just flew by me
On wings spread wide along the breeze.
Another month passes by
Musing over the colours witnessed
A few forgotten memories
Flit alive again before my eyes
They were pleasant, I conclude
Like a smoothly flowing rhythm
Felt from far reaches of the past
But I’m not ever looking back.
Changing colours
Changing rhymes
And I watch that leaf
Fall down from autumn’s branches.
My old songs sound rusted
Those strains played and played again
New times beckon a change
In the tenor of the tunes
Watching the terrain pass
Spellbound I hum of changing colours
Wildly green once
Blushing into red and brown.
Changing colours
Changing rhymes
And I watch that leaf
Fall down from autumn’s branches.
Changing colours
Changing songs
And I sing a new one
Knowing that I sing again.
End: 5:35 p.m.
Time: 5:25 p.m.
Changing colours
Changing rhymes
And I watch that leaf
Fall down from autumn’s branches.
There are new notes
Drifting in the air
New refrains of a season —
One forgotten, one awaited
Soaring melodies
Like that pretty white bird
That just flew by me
On wings spread wide along the breeze.
Another month passes by
Musing over the colours witnessed
A few forgotten memories
Flit alive again before my eyes
They were pleasant, I conclude
Like a smoothly flowing rhythm
Felt from far reaches of the past
But I’m not ever looking back.
Changing colours
Changing rhymes
And I watch that leaf
Fall down from autumn’s branches.
My old songs sound rusted
Those strains played and played again
New times beckon a change
In the tenor of the tunes
Watching the terrain pass
Spellbound I hum of changing colours
Wildly green once
Blushing into red and brown.
Changing colours
Changing rhymes
And I watch that leaf
Fall down from autumn’s branches.
Changing colours
Changing songs
And I sing a new one
Knowing that I sing again.
End: 5:35 p.m.
Sunday, 14 October 2007
What Kind Of Love Are You On?
I have been accused of hating love and not understanding other people’s notions of love. Perhaps it is indeed true that I do not understand other people’s notions of this profoundly perplexing human emotion and their expectations of it. However, I am certain that I do not ‘hate’ love. How can I, when I fall in love with so many things around me almost a hundred times each day?
When I watch the sky at different points of the day, I feel gladdened to see it in all its unwavering beauty. There is always some aspect that draws my soul towards it and makes me love gazing at it for endless hours, staring intently at the ephemeral clouds, the graceful birds and the innumerable shades of colour that I see. Aye, I do call it love, for it is what I feel: boundless joy at being one with the world around me, just like the boundless sky.
I love music. I love art. I love good literature. I love the fact that the human mind is equipped with creative energies capable of giving rise to such monuments, such tributes to intelligence and thought, such testaments to the freedom of creating such ethereal forms of self-expression. It gives me so much joy that I feel inspired, motivated and driven to do the same and live up to myself and all that I am capable of.
I could go on endlessly about all the little things that I fall in love with everyday. Yes, the feeling is love, for I feel happiness, hope, despair, fear, grief, anguish, ecstasy and pain all at the same time. It is intense enough to overwhelm me and leave me gasping for breath, yet I enjoy every moment of it, even the pain of feeling stifled or choked by its power … and its beauty.
However, I may be asked why I have left human interactions out of this proclamation of mine. Why have I not mentioned any people? What are my views on ‘relationships’ between people? In a word: ‘confusing’. For instance, I find people speaking of certain ‘standards’ that they have, standards that they have set for themselves with no pressure from other people, however these standards are hardly, if ever maintained. You say that you believe in something, but your actions state otherwise. You say that you have set certain ethical boundaries for yourself, yet you do not hesitate to cross them the moment you find them uncomfortable, testing or difficult to live by. You say that you love, but you don’t truly mean it. For you it is just another word … a bit of ‘fun’, nothing more. I do not understand this at all.
Without wishing to sound judgemental, I must mention that I find behaviour of this kind incomprehensible since it is something that I personally would not do. Although I have learnt that it is unrealistic to assume that people are truly what they present themselves to be, I find this deception bewildering. What is wrong or quite so difficult about being truthful about yourself? Why would you say something if you didn’t actually mean it? What kind of satisfaction does one get from lying when it is certain that the façade put up by lies is sure to crumble one day? I find no rational answers to these questions of mine.
Considering a different angle, this entire concept of ‘declaring’ how much you love a person to the whole world, indulging in what I often call ‘mushy-ness’, going to great lengths to show other people how much you care by stating that you would die for a person, is something that I find odd and also somewhat illogical. I find it odd since I don’t understand why one would want to let oneself be quite so vulnerable to the world at large, leaving one at the mercy of a world that is simply waiting to steal something away. I am a very private person and I find it unfathomable why someone would want everyone to know of something quite so personal and make such public displays of ‘sappy’ behaviour. The logical part of me asks how one can know for certain that the relationship will actually last long enough to be boasted about to all and sundry. I have seen people constantly talk about their love-lives only to have their relationships end after a week or a month.
I have nothing against love itself neither do I judge people who are in love by categorising them as ‘bad’, ‘wrong’ or some other adjective. It must be nice to be able to open up to that extent to someone else. It’s just that I am sceptical about it as people often don’t mean what they say (and are sometimes unaware of the fact that they don’t). Life isn’t all about fairy-tale endings, neither is it a replication of a clichéd romantic comedy. Speaking from a practical point of view, I must say that looking at life through rose-tinted glasses will only result in one’s vision being flawed. While I understand that it is only human instinct acting when people feel ‘attracted’ to each other, I think that it would be foolish and illogical to assume that any sort of relationship can be based on lust alone.
At the risk of sounding didactic, I’ll venture this: at the end of the road it is all about companionship. Lust and attraction do indeed fade after some time just like the hormone levels of humans tend to fluctuate. However if you’re comfortable in the presence of the person whom you profess to love, and find his or her company soothing and calming even in times of distress, then, I feel that it’s a relationship that has the potential to last, provided that both parties involved are willing to work at maintaining it. Call me foolish and idealistic, but I think that love should be long-term if it is to be worth all the effort. In the end it’s about being with a person whom you can sit next to or lie with ‘and just forget the world’.
When I watch the sky at different points of the day, I feel gladdened to see it in all its unwavering beauty. There is always some aspect that draws my soul towards it and makes me love gazing at it for endless hours, staring intently at the ephemeral clouds, the graceful birds and the innumerable shades of colour that I see. Aye, I do call it love, for it is what I feel: boundless joy at being one with the world around me, just like the boundless sky.
I love music. I love art. I love good literature. I love the fact that the human mind is equipped with creative energies capable of giving rise to such monuments, such tributes to intelligence and thought, such testaments to the freedom of creating such ethereal forms of self-expression. It gives me so much joy that I feel inspired, motivated and driven to do the same and live up to myself and all that I am capable of.
I could go on endlessly about all the little things that I fall in love with everyday. Yes, the feeling is love, for I feel happiness, hope, despair, fear, grief, anguish, ecstasy and pain all at the same time. It is intense enough to overwhelm me and leave me gasping for breath, yet I enjoy every moment of it, even the pain of feeling stifled or choked by its power … and its beauty.
However, I may be asked why I have left human interactions out of this proclamation of mine. Why have I not mentioned any people? What are my views on ‘relationships’ between people? In a word: ‘confusing’. For instance, I find people speaking of certain ‘standards’ that they have, standards that they have set for themselves with no pressure from other people, however these standards are hardly, if ever maintained. You say that you believe in something, but your actions state otherwise. You say that you have set certain ethical boundaries for yourself, yet you do not hesitate to cross them the moment you find them uncomfortable, testing or difficult to live by. You say that you love, but you don’t truly mean it. For you it is just another word … a bit of ‘fun’, nothing more. I do not understand this at all.
Without wishing to sound judgemental, I must mention that I find behaviour of this kind incomprehensible since it is something that I personally would not do. Although I have learnt that it is unrealistic to assume that people are truly what they present themselves to be, I find this deception bewildering. What is wrong or quite so difficult about being truthful about yourself? Why would you say something if you didn’t actually mean it? What kind of satisfaction does one get from lying when it is certain that the façade put up by lies is sure to crumble one day? I find no rational answers to these questions of mine.
Considering a different angle, this entire concept of ‘declaring’ how much you love a person to the whole world, indulging in what I often call ‘mushy-ness’, going to great lengths to show other people how much you care by stating that you would die for a person, is something that I find odd and also somewhat illogical. I find it odd since I don’t understand why one would want to let oneself be quite so vulnerable to the world at large, leaving one at the mercy of a world that is simply waiting to steal something away. I am a very private person and I find it unfathomable why someone would want everyone to know of something quite so personal and make such public displays of ‘sappy’ behaviour. The logical part of me asks how one can know for certain that the relationship will actually last long enough to be boasted about to all and sundry. I have seen people constantly talk about their love-lives only to have their relationships end after a week or a month.
I have nothing against love itself neither do I judge people who are in love by categorising them as ‘bad’, ‘wrong’ or some other adjective. It must be nice to be able to open up to that extent to someone else. It’s just that I am sceptical about it as people often don’t mean what they say (and are sometimes unaware of the fact that they don’t). Life isn’t all about fairy-tale endings, neither is it a replication of a clichéd romantic comedy. Speaking from a practical point of view, I must say that looking at life through rose-tinted glasses will only result in one’s vision being flawed. While I understand that it is only human instinct acting when people feel ‘attracted’ to each other, I think that it would be foolish and illogical to assume that any sort of relationship can be based on lust alone.
At the risk of sounding didactic, I’ll venture this: at the end of the road it is all about companionship. Lust and attraction do indeed fade after some time just like the hormone levels of humans tend to fluctuate. However if you’re comfortable in the presence of the person whom you profess to love, and find his or her company soothing and calming even in times of distress, then, I feel that it’s a relationship that has the potential to last, provided that both parties involved are willing to work at maintaining it. Call me foolish and idealistic, but I think that love should be long-term if it is to be worth all the effort. In the end it’s about being with a person whom you can sit next to or lie with ‘and just forget the world’.
Thursday, 11 October 2007
Candidly Colourless
Date: 11.10.2007
Time: 11:40 p.m.
Come, come
Cast that brush aside
You have forgotten how to wield it
Let those empty tubes lie
They were never your friends
Does your hand not shake
With fear, with fear
When you touch those colours?
Come, come
Forget those dreams you wove
They shall remain within you forever
You could never paint them
Or have thoughts be touched by colour
Does your heart not race faster
From fear, from fear
When you touch those colours?
Come, come
Walk away from the unchangeable past
Even so, with the future, yet to arise
That lies bleak and of monochrome you love
And will never be tamed or attained
Does your mind not panic and scream
With fear, with fear
When you touch those colours?
Drop them, I say
Keep away, keep away
Colours will wrench you apart
With pain, with pain
Of old memories, now dim
Of old tunes, now fading
Those new lights mean nothing, nor are daunting
When you are candidly colourless.
End: 11:50 p.m.
Time: 11:40 p.m.
Come, come
Cast that brush aside
You have forgotten how to wield it
Let those empty tubes lie
They were never your friends
Does your hand not shake
With fear, with fear
When you touch those colours?
Come, come
Forget those dreams you wove
They shall remain within you forever
You could never paint them
Or have thoughts be touched by colour
Does your heart not race faster
From fear, from fear
When you touch those colours?
Come, come
Walk away from the unchangeable past
Even so, with the future, yet to arise
That lies bleak and of monochrome you love
And will never be tamed or attained
Does your mind not panic and scream
With fear, with fear
When you touch those colours?
Drop them, I say
Keep away, keep away
Colours will wrench you apart
With pain, with pain
Of old memories, now dim
Of old tunes, now fading
Those new lights mean nothing, nor are daunting
When you are candidly colourless.
End: 11:50 p.m.
Tuesday, 9 October 2007
A Window to my World [V]
Oh well, I have been terribly bored and the best way I know to kill boredom is just go and furiously type/write whatever comes to my mind. I’m not going to use “real” stationery today since I don’t wish to infect my beloved violet ink pen with any of those stupid viruses (of two different species, I am certain) and some bacteria that have been have been harassing me of late. However I don’t wish to be boring as well by forcing people to read my rants about multiple micro-organisms. I don’t even know how I manage to alliterate when I am annoyed! I mean, I can alliterate alarmingly almost always, even when I am particularly bugged. Sometimes, I don’t even notice it.
I don’t even know why I am digressing from morbidly menacing micro-organisms to my alliterating abnormality. I suppose it just goes to show how beautifully bored I am. My head and my left eye especially (which has a rather nice blood clot that is hidden from normal view at its upper left) hurt, I have been snivelling all day in spite of actually remembering to consume cough-syrup and my brother sat on a safety-pin today and was too embarrassed to mention the possibility of his rear-end bleeding to anyone. What, I ask is wrong with the world? Nothing, I suppose. Nothing apart from the fact that it is a world that needs chaos, a world that needs people to act stupidly instead of listening to reason or being reasonable, a world that needs all the evils imaginable to avoid being monotonously mundane; and there again, it doesn’t always succeed.
My parents were actually sitting and watching “Flash Gordon” this afternoon. And when I walked in and scoffed at a particularly melodramatic scene, my mother coolly commented that had I been five and watching it I’d have loved it too. This made absolutely no sense to me. Sometimes I wonder whether I have inherited my madness from her. Perhaps it is not induced after all. Oh well, I am rambling yet again.
Being stuck inside for three days can definitely ensure that you end up being excessively snarky to people around you. Oh yes, I have been very sarcastic, so much so that I am sure that there have been moments when my parents have actually considered cannibalism when it came to dealing with me. And of course, it is quite obviously a whole lot of fun when your younger sibling decides to make an extra effort at annoying you while you are in no mood to snap back. Oh well, my mother commented that I seemed like myself today. When I asked, “How so?” she merely replied, “You seem more aggressive.” Mothers. Gah.
I want to go outside and do something. Anything! While the fact that my head and eyes hurt is sort of nice, I doubt that I enjoy remaining confined much. Oh well, I have ranted enough. This is another disgusting and trivial post to be washed down the dreadful drain that is my blog. Forgive me for not being sweet and kind and humorous or any other admirable adjective. I was never any of those. Meh.
I don’t even know why I am digressing from morbidly menacing micro-organisms to my alliterating abnormality. I suppose it just goes to show how beautifully bored I am. My head and my left eye especially (which has a rather nice blood clot that is hidden from normal view at its upper left) hurt, I have been snivelling all day in spite of actually remembering to consume cough-syrup and my brother sat on a safety-pin today and was too embarrassed to mention the possibility of his rear-end bleeding to anyone. What, I ask is wrong with the world? Nothing, I suppose. Nothing apart from the fact that it is a world that needs chaos, a world that needs people to act stupidly instead of listening to reason or being reasonable, a world that needs all the evils imaginable to avoid being monotonously mundane; and there again, it doesn’t always succeed.
My parents were actually sitting and watching “Flash Gordon” this afternoon. And when I walked in and scoffed at a particularly melodramatic scene, my mother coolly commented that had I been five and watching it I’d have loved it too. This made absolutely no sense to me. Sometimes I wonder whether I have inherited my madness from her. Perhaps it is not induced after all. Oh well, I am rambling yet again.
Being stuck inside for three days can definitely ensure that you end up being excessively snarky to people around you. Oh yes, I have been very sarcastic, so much so that I am sure that there have been moments when my parents have actually considered cannibalism when it came to dealing with me. And of course, it is quite obviously a whole lot of fun when your younger sibling decides to make an extra effort at annoying you while you are in no mood to snap back. Oh well, my mother commented that I seemed like myself today. When I asked, “How so?” she merely replied, “You seem more aggressive.” Mothers. Gah.
I want to go outside and do something. Anything! While the fact that my head and eyes hurt is sort of nice, I doubt that I enjoy remaining confined much. Oh well, I have ranted enough. This is another disgusting and trivial post to be washed down the dreadful drain that is my blog. Forgive me for not being sweet and kind and humorous or any other admirable adjective. I was never any of those. Meh.
PS: And now, my brother is down with it as well. First I give my dad the infection and he starts looking like an angry alien villain from some horror movie. Now, it is my brother. GAH. I feel unclean. Yes.
Sunday, 7 October 2007
Creepy Croaking and Wild Whistling
I have conjunctivitis (I think) in one eye and was thoroughly bored all morning. Therefore, I decided to record myself croaking and whistling. Hopefully, it will successfully scare everyone who decides to go listen.
Creepy Croaking 1: Good Enough (Evanescence)
Comment: Yes, I was idiotic enough to use my long deceased vocal chords and phlegm-filled lungs (which hurt quite a bit when I cough, and I cough quite a bit) to try out this song. It is one of my favourites by the band, and stupid Airlet decided to call me up right in the middle of the recording (as you will probably notice when you suddenly hear a strange spy-style ringtone sound out all of a sudden with my voice cracking out of sheer surprise). Oh well, I was too lazy to sing it again, and my motive was to amuse myself, so I shall let this particularly blatant bit of a bug pass.
Creepy Croaking 2: My Immortal (Evanescence)
Comment: I was in love with this song since I first heard it. It has beautiful lyrics and Amy Lee is a genius. I haved croaked to express my profound adoration for this song.
Creepy Croaking 3: Like You (Evanescence)
Comment: My anthem and my lifeline during a not-so-nice time. It is painful, yes. Extremely painful, but still, one of my favourites. Then again, I feel like an idiot for even thinking about recording myself croaking this. *sigh*
Wild Whistling 1: The Lord Of The Rings Theme
Comment: This is one thing that I can do and am quite conceited about. Hah hah hah.
Monday, 1 October 2007
Inane Insanity
Yes well more insanity prevaileth ...
11:25 a.m.
During a well-deserved brain-breather …
DM: Do you know why she’s (VB) gone out?
LD: Yeah. Loo. No. Er. “*insert-certain-nickname-here-which-I-cannot-put-in-for-reasons-of-anonymity*”.
DM nods.
LD: But why would she go in search of him? I thought she didn’t like him that way.
DM: Well, she just wants to go look.
LD: But why?
DM: Okay, look, if you hear a good song —
LD: But I won’t go “in search of that song”.
DM: But you would download it to your iPod. She can’t download him to her iPod…
LD: Oh. Erm. That was quotable.
DM: Well, when I’m talking to you I have to talk in a language you will understand since you’re so dumb you don’t understand normal talk.
1:07 p.m.
VB: She (LD) goes hyper in Maths class. I don’t want her to sit in the middle!
DM: I tolerated her all morning. I can’t anymore. She kept on talking during Physics.
VB: (frustrated) She keeps talking to me in Maths.
DM: She talks more to me.
VB: (exasperated) To me also!
Here VB attempts to shove LD away from her.
VB: Oh look! She just slid away!
LD struggles against VB.
DM: (pleading to the class at large) Somebody come sit next to us. Save us!
VB: (to LD) You torturer!
LD laughs maniacally. She becomes ‘hyper-loopy’. DM and VB try to ignore her, but fail miserably. And they don’t like failing miserably.
DM: You can’t quote what I say. I can take you to court.
LD ignores DM and quotes her just the same. DM and VB then have a pencil-box-shoving-competition.
DM: (pushing the pencil box towards VB) You!
VB: (pushing it towards DM) No! You!
DM: You!
LD: (stops the pencil-box mid-journey) NOT MY PENCIL BOX! (More gently) Not my Spider-man pencil box!
More insanity later…
LD laughs maniacally.
VB: Somebody take her to Ranchi!
LD: I don’t want to go to Ranchi!
VB: (melodramatically) NAHI!!!!!!!
There is more maniacal madness on LD’s part. An innocent bystander, er, by-sitter, er, classmate sitting in front of LD starts laughing after another burst of exceptionally crazy laughter on LD’s part.
VB: She’s high!
SA: (another classmate who is quite concerned) Did she have something at break?
VB and DM conspire to pack LD off to an asylum.
LD protests!
1:20 p.m.
LD, VB, DM and MMM (Miss Minnie/Midget Mouse, who is another classmate) are sitting in the canteen.
DM: (laughing, no, wait, er, smiling gleefully at VB’s ‘predicament’) You get her (LD).
VB tries to push LD away. LD slides away unwittingly. LD then moves back to her original place.
VB: (copying some notes) What was the date last Monday?
MMM: It’s the 1st today. So, one week…
LD: 21st.
VB: (annoyed) 24th!
LD: How do you add again?
MMM: You add?
LD: Erm.
1:30 p.m.
LD laughs in a strange, weird and demented manner.
LD: Heh heh heh! Ah ha ha ha! Tee haa haa haa! Whahahahahahaha! Bwahahahahaaha!
MMM: (sitting beside LD) WHAT did you have during break?
LD: Your sandwiches.
MMM: Lot’s of people had my sandwiches.
DM: (coming out of her LD-free reverie) What did you have when I was not looking?
MMM: She had nashpatis which no one had.
DM: Yes. I think it was the nashpatis.
LD: (coldly) I don’t remember pears being intoxicating.
After a while of pear-induced daydreaming …
MMM: (pointing at a random girl) That girl is such a kid!
LD: (in a very mature manner) Well, I also act like a kid.
MMM: No, I mean she acts like she’s five years old.
LD: Oh, you mean to say that I’m not five, I’m twelve. Yay!
MMM: You’re a tween.
LD is happy at not being thought of as a five-year-old. She decides to write everything down. MMM opens her mouth to say something.
LD: Wait! Quiet! No more talking till I finish writing. Oh. That was quotable.
MMM: That just made me realise that I was talking to be quoted down.
(LD must mention that she has been instructed to add that the above comment was sarcastic in nature, although she personally thinks that it was more wistful than sarcastic.)
1:40 p.m.
VB and DM break into peals of LD-ish laughter.
LD: Pepsi is making you high.
VB: (turning and facing LD) No. I just told her (DM), “You’re covering your hair with your face.”
LD bursts into laughter and her face gets covered by her hair.
DM: (smiling knowingly) I knew that would happen.
Oh well, we didn’t have the Mathematics class that day; something that is quite evident. :P
During a well-deserved brain-breather …
DM: Do you know why she’s (VB) gone out?
LD: Yeah. Loo. No. Er. “*insert-certain-nickname-here-which-I-cannot-put-in-for-reasons-of-anonymity*”.
DM nods.
LD: But why would she go in search of him? I thought she didn’t like him that way.
DM: Well, she just wants to go look.
LD: But why?
DM: Okay, look, if you hear a good song —
LD: But I won’t go “in search of that song”.
DM: But you would download it to your iPod. She can’t download him to her iPod…
LD: Oh. Erm. That was quotable.
DM: Well, when I’m talking to you I have to talk in a language you will understand since you’re so dumb you don’t understand normal talk.
1:07 p.m.
VB: She (LD) goes hyper in Maths class. I don’t want her to sit in the middle!
DM: I tolerated her all morning. I can’t anymore. She kept on talking during Physics.
VB: (frustrated) She keeps talking to me in Maths.
DM: She talks more to me.
VB: (exasperated) To me also!
Here VB attempts to shove LD away from her.
VB: Oh look! She just slid away!
LD struggles against VB.
DM: (pleading to the class at large) Somebody come sit next to us. Save us!
VB: (to LD) You torturer!
LD laughs maniacally. She becomes ‘hyper-loopy’. DM and VB try to ignore her, but fail miserably. And they don’t like failing miserably.
DM: You can’t quote what I say. I can take you to court.
LD ignores DM and quotes her just the same. DM and VB then have a pencil-box-shoving-competition.
DM: (pushing the pencil box towards VB) You!
VB: (pushing it towards DM) No! You!
DM: You!
LD: (stops the pencil-box mid-journey) NOT MY PENCIL BOX! (More gently) Not my Spider-man pencil box!
More insanity later…
LD laughs maniacally.
VB: Somebody take her to Ranchi!
LD: I don’t want to go to Ranchi!
VB: (melodramatically) NAHI!!!!!!!
There is more maniacal madness on LD’s part. An innocent bystander, er, by-sitter, er, classmate sitting in front of LD starts laughing after another burst of exceptionally crazy laughter on LD’s part.
VB: She’s high!
SA: (another classmate who is quite concerned) Did she have something at break?
VB and DM conspire to pack LD off to an asylum.
LD protests!
1:20 p.m.
LD, VB, DM and MMM (Miss Minnie/Midget Mouse, who is another classmate) are sitting in the canteen.
DM: (laughing, no, wait, er, smiling gleefully at VB’s ‘predicament’) You get her (LD).
VB tries to push LD away. LD slides away unwittingly. LD then moves back to her original place.
VB: (copying some notes) What was the date last Monday?
MMM: It’s the 1st today. So, one week…
LD: 21st.
VB: (annoyed) 24th!
LD: How do you add again?
MMM: You add?
LD: Erm.
1:30 p.m.
LD laughs in a strange, weird and demented manner.
LD: Heh heh heh! Ah ha ha ha! Tee haa haa haa! Whahahahahahaha! Bwahahahahaaha!
MMM: (sitting beside LD) WHAT did you have during break?
LD: Your sandwiches.
MMM: Lot’s of people had my sandwiches.
DM: (coming out of her LD-free reverie) What did you have when I was not looking?
MMM: She had nashpatis which no one had.
DM: Yes. I think it was the nashpatis.
LD: (coldly) I don’t remember pears being intoxicating.
After a while of pear-induced daydreaming …
MMM: (pointing at a random girl) That girl is such a kid!
LD: (in a very mature manner) Well, I also act like a kid.
MMM: No, I mean she acts like she’s five years old.
LD: Oh, you mean to say that I’m not five, I’m twelve. Yay!
MMM: You’re a tween.
LD is happy at not being thought of as a five-year-old. She decides to write everything down. MMM opens her mouth to say something.
LD: Wait! Quiet! No more talking till I finish writing. Oh. That was quotable.
MMM: That just made me realise that I was talking to be quoted down.
(LD must mention that she has been instructed to add that the above comment was sarcastic in nature, although she personally thinks that it was more wistful than sarcastic.)
1:40 p.m.
VB and DM break into peals of LD-ish laughter.
LD: Pepsi is making you high.
VB: (turning and facing LD) No. I just told her (DM), “You’re covering your hair with your face.”
LD bursts into laughter and her face gets covered by her hair.
DM: (smiling knowingly) I knew that would happen.
Oh well, we didn’t have the Mathematics class that day; something that is quite evident. :P
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