I've started a post more than once in the last two days and left it after these many words.

I'm not much of a socialiser because I'm a little tough on the you're-not-like minded part. But I'm seeing this whole new side to myself. I'd like to think it's the "chiller" in me. Seldom do I indulge in "rendezvous over coffee". But it worked reasonably well for me this weekend. For one I detested the blaring music in Route 04. One of the rare moments when I felt that music was hindering a prospective conversation and that's absolutely unacceptable. ( Also, I had a sore throat).

I need to Google the prime purpose that a parentheses serves.

I've gotten back to my regular sleeping pattern and that's a relief. It's never a pleasure to think constantly about how to vile away time, time meant for being in a solemn state of slumber.

The weather is ideal which is how and/or why I got myself to finally experience the Bullet rides. De-stressing for sure. Consistent momentum. Easy travel. Finding narrow escapes. Not minding a frozen face. Starkly contrasting the confined space of a four wheeler. And the raised pillion seat does provide a false sense of an elevated self.

Back to the routine tomorrow. Hardly a routine actually. When your studies start to interest you, a brand new life begins. The large portion of stress shrinks and there you have, a small and enjoyable meal which you will certainly savour.

No, I'm not going to quite describing novels like recipes just because my professor didn't like the idea. I can't stick to the routine description of it being "extravagantly luring" or "brilliant in form". It always was and will be the perfect blend of satire and tragedy sprinkled generously on an XYZ century base. There. Now THAT's what you want to read.

I was listening to You Make Me Feel by Aretha Franklin being played while dinner last night. Although I didn't know that that was being played or she was singing when I heard it then. Anyway, I wanted to play it while my feminism lecture was in process. Better still, I want to play it in a class with radical feminists. The room will be ignited, they will attack and resent and Aretha Franklin will be pleasantly satisfied about the man's love as the key to "peace my mind".

Whatte fun!

I've realised that I'm not as comfortable I think I could be about surviving this loneliness. Why don't I know for sure whether I'm lonely or not? I hate days which make me wake up to this note. And all this thinking, it's going to poison me one day.

My brother and I haven't spoken for about a week now. And I'm not sure how I feel about it. Why is everything suddenly becoming about surviving every other thing?

I think I should go read the newspaper and distract myself from this pointless pondering.

I just spent more than an hour reading someone's blog. It's actually too late in the night for me to assemble relevant material to put here. I've been obsessively scrutinizing my own behavior lately and I gave myself a pleasant surprise last night. I think I always need that mild alcoholic acceleration to make sense to myself.

Today was Nandini's Eleventh Birthday. As much as I crave to dive back into my childhood most times, today I was happy being the adult. I might think that I'm not doing enough to grease the all essential brain, but at instances more than one, I proved that thought wrong. For one, my road sense is coming close to perfection. I have overcome the handicap of explaining routes as well. You know how they say- Idea hai. Jab wheel pe the toh pata tha kaunsa turn tha. I'm sorry, but you don't lose sense of direction when you're on the wheel and the left still remains a left and you have to be right about the right.

I'm also proud of myself to have finally developed that quintessential taste for chocolate. I've noticed that I'm still making myself comfortable with the taste and not experimenting too much. But there's always somewhere you've got to start.

To answer why I couldn't make my peace with disliking chocolate, I'd reiterate that it's always necessary to experience and then to opine. In lieu of the unexpected statement that I've just made, the vegetarians who detest non vegetarian food without ever having tasted in their lives, leave me appalled at their absurdity. It's food. Regular people eat it not because they gain sadistic pleasure out of hunting animals down, but because it simply tastes good. It is relished and satiates routine hunger. So cut the cribbing about it being put in front of you on the table. Kindly look at it as a bowl fool of food worth savoring. It's a matter of choice and you really don't need to blatantly condemn someone else's choice. I take changing perspectives as a daunting task but I would not wish to give up on this. And as mentioned on the blog I was reading, "I never lie to my blog."

I want to go from abstract to structured.

And I need to put some thought in.

Cheers to the pro activity and the conscious effort of giving the latent, a chance to be known.

I finished watching American History X a couple of hours back and I really didn't think that I'd get over it so soon. I think I shouldn't have let Family Guy ruin all that intense fog that the movie had managed to fill my brain with.

I was told that it wouldn't let me move, that movie, and it didn't. In fact I couldn't be less bothered about being signed into Rockmelt with people pinging me with their shallow "hey". Oh pardon me for I forgot the exclamation which follows the greeting. Sometimes I think all this typing allows you to be way more dramatical. But yes in real life, you thankfully don't get stuck with the y's at the end of the hey till the turn of the century.

So Yamla Pagla Deewana is releasing tomorrow and I know a lot of people who're fairly excited to catch a show. It's going to be insanely ridiculous and I don't say this about all movies. My world is full of incessant adoration of Kay Jay and his glorious portrayal of emotions, half of which regular people don't even feel in real life. Picture yourself feeling what Rani and SRK felt while competing to run outside that magnificent mansion which belonged to the Raichands. That rick run followed by a gush of best friendship. Too much I tell you. Hum toh sirf subah college ke lie bhagte hai, bohot tez.

It really is a disgrace how I don't feel it's necessary to exercise. I have reached level one by learning the importance of breakfast (ate at an appropriate hour, not at noon). I think I realise that I need to burn those 184736832 calories fighting to find room in my body. This is what happens when you have 10 small meals in a day. Gluttony, at its peaceful best.

It's 3 30 am and it's annoying how I've been voluntarily sleeping at 4 o clock in the morning these days which is when DJs Dadaji gets up in the morning for his Ardas and simultaneouly Karan is asked to Bhujao. What a brilliantly moving movie. But I don't have a fancy jeep to push off in and I don't have the marble palace to walk into early in the morning after chilling the whole night. So I should make peace with my killer new spring mattress.

I've been dreaming bizarrely and rather regularly these days. I hope I get a good dream to seal my day. Good night to myself.

So I've screamed so loud in the pathetically confined space of the car, that my face is bloodshot right now. I had my mum sitting next to me, whose hearing capacities are top notch, but I really felt like I'm expecting a deaf person to hear me out.

I've always comfortably agreed to the existence of a "generation gap". But it's capable of pissing me off to the fucking limit. Actually it succeeds in stretching the limit every time. It's unbelievable how my levels of piss dom are like this magical elastic band which can get stretched, tear and in the very next instance are ready to be stretched again.

I can't imagine myself how angry I am right now. I've started to exercise what they say in theory about gulping your anger. But hota he nai. You have to find an outlet to all the anger and how pointless is pushing it back into your system. I think I can wear layers of those jackets people wear while riding, not the regular ones, sweat it out even in this freezing chill and still be angry.

One word- Bhenchod

More words- I have thought many a time of extending my vocabulary beyond these three words. But they fit so unbelievable well here that I'd be only fooling my expression to have not used them. KYA SCENE HAI? Sabka kya scene hai.

Even if you burn the space between the three compartments on each finger, to create infinite levels, you won't be able to count the number of times I have sworn to be indifferent to the idiotic notions that exist in various heads. I mean the very notion of a notion emerges out of a varsity of opinion residing in different thought processes. So yes, I do think that it's best to accept and not compare. But nahi hota hai. It just doesn't happen. It's like the worst kind of theory that can never find an practical execution through my flawed personality. Then again, I might think that it's not flawed. It's just my individualistic outburst.