Conscience persona

I always wondered, what my conscience would like if it was a person?
Well.
Again, my imagination is going places.
She would have a pretty crop-cut.
And dangling ear-rings. With differently coloured bangles.
And a weapon in one hand.
Hmm. A hammer. To unsuccessfully knock sense into me.
And a victory flag in one hand to wave, when she is successful.
Considering I have guilt-overflow on a few occasions, I'm guessing she has a frightening laser gun on those rare occasions to get the point across.
She would have matching clothes, considering I don't. :D
And...um she would have to be a little more assertive when telling me to study :P

aah, I think I'm slightly crazy.

The motorcyclist

So for the first half of the day, I walked around with two black eyes.
Now here's a story I imagined, which was much more extravagant than the truth. So here goes:
I woke up in the morning, and found that I had only five minutes to get ready. I rushed out of the house, stole the guard's cycle and cycled through Absurdville (sounds so much better than Zamrudhpur). I cycled as fast as I could, and I almost knocked into a motorcyclist. He threw his helmet at me, and I put up iron-like hand which deflected his aim.
He got angry, and chucked his motor bike to one side. I also threw my stolen bike to one side, and ran for my life.
I took out the chicken biryani from my bag and threw it at his face. What a waste of chicken biryani. I rushed behind the reliance shop, and he miraculously sped to a terrace and started throwing potatoes at me. I dodged the potatoes (matrix style) and with a brilliant reflex, and then decided to catch the potatoes in my hands.
Then I threw them down, as he had run out of groceries to throw.
It was time for the ultimate battle.
I picked up coconuts. Even in my imagination, I seem to have wrong reactions. I could never throw coconuts to that height.
He then took a rope which came flying out of nowhere and swung himself down, and demanded that I hand over my bag. I refused, as my bag had important rise of the modern west photocopies...and a register which had no notes, but beautiful doodles and cubes. Yet, it was my bag.
He demanded that I hand over Arvind Sinha's textbook 'Europe in Transition.' I couldn't.
Then he punched me in the eye. And then the other.
So I lost my temper.
Then I put kickboxing to good use.
I gave him a sucker punch in the face and broke a coconut on his head. Coconuts can actually knock a person out :P Then I put a victory flag on his scooter. Then for safety sake, I pepper-sprayed him.
But what to do now? I had two black eyes. I now looked like a racoon gone wrong. I gritted my teeth.

See, this is what happens when my imagination runs away with me. All that had happened was that I got up late, and didn't look in the mirror when putting Kohl in my eyes.
But I had fun imagining. :D

Phoebe's reaction to the world cup :D

:D
While Sri Lanka was batting, every time someone got out I would scream with joy. Phoebe would scuttle in, put her nose on my lap as if to say, "Please, I'm the only one at home with you, I'm worried."
And I would tell her happily, "WE CAN WIN THIS!" and she would trot away, getting more nervous by the minute.
I think she suffered ultimate trauma when India started batting.
When Sehwag got out, I ran towards the TV saying, "NOOOOOOOOOOOO! Mistake, mistake!" At that time she came to the door rather wistfully, wondering what she could do to handle the situation. She couldn't do much, and I was getting even more touchy and impatient, so I kept pushing her away.
When Sachin got out, I dropped the tray. Phoebe rushed in, and again she found that I was in a cricket dimension where I jut wanted to see victory.
AND THEN.
I was in a flux, between furiously writing on facebook, texting, and screaming at the same time. The rain of fours and sixes! Every time those happened, I hurrahed and yahooed.
Phoebe then came sat next to me and put a reassuring paw on my lap. As if to say, 'Alright. You're a darned psychopath, but I will stick by you."
Seven runs to go, I was biting nails furiously, and pulling my hair out of proportion.
Then Dhoni hit the six.
We won!!!
I called my friends, and was so busy yelling and jumping around that Phoebe came in and climbed under the bed in submission as if to say "I CANT DO MUCH NOW!!"
After a half an hour of euphoria, I finally pulled Phoebe out from beneath the bed.
She seems slightly wary of me, now :D
Ahh, the good life!!!

WE WON THE WORLD CUP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SO, India won the world cup.
I'm so so terribly happy.
And thrilled.
It's that brilliant feeling of euphoria.
The good part is, I'm writing it minutes after we won the world cup, because I want to remember this moment.
I rarely get attached to sports, frankly. But this time I DID. Because it was India, and somehow the feeling of India winning the world cup comes above every other sport. I'm not sure I would have been this overwhelmed had Brazil won the world cup.
There are somethings which are strange to explain.
But I'm thrilled, and ecstatic. It was a fantastic match, with nail-biting moments and screams which only Phoebe suffered. (She's still hiding under the bed)
It's amazing how faith keeps you going. That faith, and such complete belief. I won't deny that I was scared, and frustrated during the match....but I just had hope.
Oh what the heck, I'm so happy right now.
Pure brilliance :)
And I still feel quite teary eyed. :O

Cricket fever!

Okay, the title to be fair IS misleading.
I'm NOT obsessed with cricket, and never will I be. But, BUT I'm terribly happy that India made it to the finals, and somehow this time the world cup fever hit me stronger than ever.
The few occasions I've watched cricket...have only been World Cup occasions. And now, I'm writing this entry half an hour before the finals.
One thing which I've realized- in any sport- whichever team you support...support them fully till the last. Support each player, no matter what. After all there was a reason you chose to support them. One quote which struck me very strongly was, 'victory only creates liking for a bit, a defeat gets the real fans to love their team even more.' I got this off one of my friend's facebook status messages, and I agree with this so completely.
That's what a real fan does. There for the team till the end. With full faith, and belief.
And, I have faith in our Indian team. No matter what :)

The little things

So when I actually put it down to thinking, I would say eighth grade and the twelfth grade were the best years of school.
I think eighth was the best year of my school life for many reasons. I was in a new class, and I had new friends. And that's when my obsession of talking on the phone started- and this I owe completely to Mekhala.
When I think of eighth, I remember the X men obsession, the seven-hour record of talking on the phone, and our marks suffering terribly because of that, and how we would laugh it off.
I remember the 'stalking' and ' spying' because we believed that we were true X men. And I miss it all. It became a crucial part of my growing up.
So our friendship went through a queer phase...and at that time we were quick to misunderstand each other and seperate. And somehow, we could still never break off completely. It's one of those bonds which can somehow never be severed. We didn't talk for years, except for a quick hi and bye, and we perhaps didn't know ourselves better and were not mature enough to talk things out.
But you can never forget your first best friend. No matter what.
And in the last one year, we started talking randomly, and our friendship kicked off again. It's funny how things work out in the end. Maybe we needed those years off...to grow up and branch out.
And some friendships are meant to be. And this definitely was. It's come full circle.

So I saw Break Ke Baad.

So I watched Break ke Baad.
Did I like it?
How do I answer that question?
Here's what I could have done in those two hours.
-Water plants
-watch grass die.
-watch the guard and driver play cricket.
-Take out my Modwest textbook from my bag, consider studying it and then put it back.
-Visit the dentist, considering I'm five months late for my appointment.
-Give Phoebe a bath.
-Learn the recipe for my grandmother brilliant apple pie.
-cleaned up my desk.
-changed the batteries of my clocks which had been showing the wrong time for the last 10 months.
and many more.

I had heard mixed reviews about this movie. And they varied from ' Oh it was really amazing!' to 'Bleh. What a bore.' The second opinion seems to be closer to my opinion.
I died twice while watching the film.
Besides the ending seemed a tad confused. Suppose Aaliya hadn't realized her love for him, and didn't come back, then what would have been the point of the lavish decorations and the silk sherwani and the wedding card?
He would have looked rather sheepish then.
Again, Imran Khan makes me sad. I thought that after his previous washout of I hate Luv stories, there would be something nice about Break ke Baad.
Bleargh.
The funny point of the film was when Lillette Dubey entered, and I screamed, "HAHA, I'VE MET YOU IN REAL LIFE!!!!!!"
I love those rare occasions when I've seen people in films AND in real life.