The White Cross

She stared at the rusty white gate. She looked down at the parcel she was holding. It was wrapped in newspaper. As if the parcel was a talisman giving her strength, she pushed open the gate as much as the rust allowed and walked through.

"I wonder which one it is. Oh god. I dont want to leave it on the wrong one". Her thoughts were racing. She walked towards the far end of the cemetary. The numerous crosses that marked the final resting place of each person there, didnt have any markings.

Some were large and some were smaller. most of them were the same brown wood, fairly old. Some graves had grave stones. Some had flowers and others laid bare. Some crosses were ornately carved and others were simple.

But each marked the place of a person. Someone who was once loved.
which one was the one she needed to find?

Who I Am

I recently came across all my school certificates and medals. There are various kinds from all the way back in 2003. Ten years ago. Finding those awards really made me think about all the changes that have happened in ten years.

Ten years ago, I was in third grade. In 2003 I was a very reserved child. Yes, I was shy but I have to insist that I was a reserved person because I didn't like fraternizing much. I have always been an introvert.  Back then, I used to make a HUGE tantrum about going to school. I never wanted to go. I didn't like my classmates, I usually liked my teachers and my study material but I never liked going to school. Maybe I had an extended version of the Monday Blues all week long. I'm still not sure. But all I knew when I was that young was that I didn't like school. 

This shy girl is from 2006

I wasn't the type of girl who had many friends. Even to this day, I have very few friends. I was a judgmental child, very defensive and I disliked any rowdiness from other children. As a result, no one really liked me. Who could blame them? I was the one who thought she was better than them. And I frequently showed it. So I quietly settled in with my books. Fiction was my friend. While I was immersed in fiction, I felt understood. I felt like I belonged. All through my elementary and middle school years, I spent my breaks with my nose in a book. I read at every interval i found; in the bus, in free periods and sometimes during P.E. Even today, I love to read. 

Stories from my scandalous life -II

Whenever I go to the supermarket, I always tend to buy a lot of items I do not need or forget to buy items that I needed quite badly. This time, I decided to conquer this flaw of mine by writing up a grocery list!

I spent quite a lot of time on this list. I went through recipes, menus and my kitchen to discover what I was missing. I went through new recipes I'd like to try so that I wouldn't ever need anything. I had written the master of all grocery lists by the time I was done. My scrawly handwriting had panned over three pages of notepaper (about three times the length of a post it). I was sure I had forgotten nothing. I was proud of myself for actually planning something correctly. 

So when Bob asked me what I was up to, I told her I was writing a grocery list and I sent her picture (cos y'know.. THAT's big news). Her reply was immediate. And humbling. 

"What is this grocery list for? The Great Flood?" 

The Dead zone - Rant

Four times a week I take a biology tuition class. The class is at 6AM so as expected, we're sleepy puppies in that class.
Recently our teacher has started with revision. He's constantly testing and questioning us.  I go into this class expecting an air of competitiveness and excitement. Its a 6 AM class! I wouldnt go at 6 AM if I wasnt going to participate. I'd go for another class at a later time.

Usually I have my friends there but on the rare occasion that I am alone, that class is a dead class. Everybody is a zombie! They sit still and make random jerking motions. They have blank, lifeless stares .  They GRUNT.

All we have to do is pick A, B, C or D. Thats it!  Its a one in four chance that you're right. Those odds are pretty good. But the creepers just give Sir stares full of bewilderment. Grunt occasionally. Breathe heavily at each other like reanimated Darth Vaders. And say absolutely nothing while the rest of us get lost in the silence.

And if you're not going to say anything at least back off of me. Dont invade my personal space and then spew your rotten morning breath into my face. You might just find out exactly how prepared I am for a zambie apocalypse. HACK AND SLASH!

Bad Intentions

I was sad because someone was mean to me. And then i read this.

"you deserve flowers on your doorstep
and coffee in the morning
you deserve notes left on your dashboard
and ice cream sundaes at 3am
you deserve honesty every day
and to be kissed every hour
you deserve to be reminded
how beautiful you are"

I just came across it on StumbleUpon while tripping out on Tasty Network's delicious playlist. And i had a heart softening moment.  I cried. Nay. i wept. I wept for all of them. Who are they? They are the ones who quietly bite their tongues when you are rude. Who are polite no matter what. Who handle things with grace and silence. Because they suffer. No one ever tells them that they are beautiful. No one ever tells them they are sorry; its implied.

thats not the way. It breaks them. Every time you push them against a wall, it takes away a little bit: of their self worth, their respect, their ego.

Don't break people. It's such a beautiful life.

(Pop!) - ular song

Sometimes I have nightmares that make me wake up at night with a silent scream. Sometimes I feel so full of despair that I can feel my heart tear a little (especially if I've re-read "To Kill a Mockingbird")Sometimes I want to kick and scratch and throw things around just because I hate them.

Tangles of a stressed out psycho. 

Know the feeling?

But this stressed out psycho has only one therapeutic treatment. Only one as it’s the one that works. Its therapy that involves bubblegum pop and David Guetta.  Therapy that also involves crunking and twerking and all the other dance moves you would pooh-pooh in public. Yeah. The ones that would make you die of pure embarrassment if anyone found out you've tried them out, just for kicks. Yeah.  Those.

If you haven't already realized, I'm talking about dance therapy. As a teenager of my generation, music is a very integral part of my life. Its of herculean importance! I need to keep up with the latest tracks and dance to them . My life would be insipid without David Guetta, Mika, Calvin Harris, Katy Perry and Lady Gaga. And there's thousands of songs by various artists I haven't credited that have moulded my view of life. 

David Guetta

Katy Perry

So here's to my top genre! BubbleGum Pop. A genre that faithfully fulfills my therapeutic needs. I'm grateful to Katy Perry and Mika.

They're true artists: talented and with much to say. And they've helped me keep my sanity intact.

Bear Hugs

I have this unshakable belief that hugs and kisses solve every problem. They usually do.

Humans need to feel connected to each other. And hugs are the way to do it. Whenever i’m sad a good long hug makes me feel so much better. I feel like i’m not alone (my prime fear) and just for one moment i feel safe. My worries vanish.

Life is difficult. Every day, we’re fighting for something. Even if it is just to breathe, we’re in constant combat. And whatever it is i’m dueling at that time; my emotions, an opinion, a judgement or a loss, a hug makes me feel better. Heck, it makes everyone feel better. There isnt a person in the world that hasn’t craved a nice, warm hug from somebody.

Hugs can convey so many things. I hug when i’m excited. I hug when i appreciate someone or something. I hug when I’m trying to comfort someone. I hug when I need comfort. I hug to say ‘hello’.  I hug to show people that i’m there for them. It’s just my way.

Simply by putting my arms around someone and squeezing, I feel better, and so do they. Its just one of the ways in which we bind our souls to each other.

Birthday Surprises

This year my birthday came packed with surprises. Everyone paid so much attention to me and wrote such beautiful words about me that i wept like a baby. It was my eighteenth birthday and I never imagined that it would be so special.

Most of my friends were away answering entrance exams that will probably decide their future. That’s why I had decided i’d push my party to the next month. I had actually planned to lounge at home and watch the Breakfast Club (One of my favourite movies), on the actual day. Little did i know, my friends and family had other plans.

I had a lovely lazy morning and in the afternoon I went out to lunch with my best friend. We’re a pair of devils when we’re together. Always doing things we shouldn't be doing. She gave me a wonderful surprise. She had spent days creating a huge card for me. It wasn't any ordinary card; it had photos and memos of all my good friends in it. Some of the things my friends said (especially Mau5), made me tear up with emotion. I’m so lucky to have friends like them.

The next night I went to dinner with my family. That’s when I was hit with not one but TWO other surprises. My cousin “aDivineHumour” is a gifted artist and she took the time to draw a portrait of me. Can you believe it? There’s a framed portrait of ME! Every time I look at it, I feel so special. Thank you, sis.

The other surprise was a gift basket. In it was two games i’d been coveting and a few bath and body products. But the one item that really had me gaping was the God of War:Ascension, limited edition PS3 Controller!! AAAAAAAAAAH!

It really was an amazing birthday. I should have known it as soon as i cut the cake. The scene was just so quirky. My mum had playfully smeared some cake on my face and was giggling shamelessly, my dad was patiently wiping the cake out of my hair and my sister was sneaking bits of cake to Pumpkin (Our darling doggie). As i was standing there in the midst of my family, in peals of laughter, I realized how incredibly happy I am with life.

Beta Girl (tag)

She has effeminate super powers. She likes to take pleasure in simple, everyday things like cooking, gardening, decorating et al. Beauty entices her. She is usually the right hand of the strong and powerful Alpha female, usually offering felicitous advice. She looks for loyal, long term relationships with her friends. She’s communicative and a good listener. She is the epitome of all that is feminine. She is Beta-Girl!

A friend described me as a Beta female. Naturally, I did a little research on gender roles and Alpha, Beta, Omega men and women. I was so surprised to notice that I fit the role of a beta female so perfectly.

The description I've given describes me perfectly. I’ve always been a very feminine person (unless we’re talking about video games). I worry about etiquette and poise I love to meddle in the kitchen and the garden.  Literature, art, nature and fashion are the four elements that curl around my soul and show me the world’s beauty. I seek loyalty among my friends and I loathe betrayal. That is who I am and I’m not afraid to be me.

One of the articles I read also put up a list of movies that beta females would enjoy. One of them was Bridget Jones’ diary, which incidentally is a book and a movie that makes me squeal with laughter, every time. I’m very fond of that book and its sequel as I connect with Bridget on many levels. If she is a beta female then I’m glad to be one too.

Of course, there are a few dissimilarities between me and the stereotypical beta female. I am quite comfortable with the way i look. I’m certainly not a beauty queen but I’m sufficiently attractive and intelligent. I don’t feel inferior to alpha females. I know who I am and i like myself. Sure, I doubt myself every now and then but I’m only human. Essentially, I think I am a pretty incredible woman and I strive to be a true lady. That is enough for me.

P.S Tell me if you fit into a stereotype on your own blog, or leave a comment. I'd love if this became a popular blog- tag.

Virtual Reality

"Video games are for lonely people"
I discuss a lot of things with a lot of people but this topic always gets me fired up. I disagree with the above statement to the nth degree.


A person that agrees with such a stereotypical and cynical statement is credulous and has clearly never played a video game or is blatantly envious of expert video gamers. No one ever says "Books are for lonely people". If you say you're an avid reader, people assume that you are cultured and intelligent. Video games also tell stories but they do it by interacting with the player.


Isn't that a wonderful way to tell a story? When I was a young child, I used to adore interactive books. One of my favourite children's books was one that had a latex dragon puppet that could be manipulated by the reader. Video games tell you a story by letting you BE the protagonist. You not only read about their experiences but you can hear and see it. You can virtually walk in their shoes.


There's also a large misconception that video games are unhealthy. This is the 21st century. How can this be believed? It has been proven scientifically that video games can improve:


1.  motor skills, particularly hand-to-eye co-ordination.
2.  vision. First person shooter games like Call of Duty can improve vision in cataract patients.
3.  decision making skills. Most games require quick reactions and decisions.
4. Your happiness. They provide an outlet to vent your frustration and hence reduce stress and depression.


Video games are a hobby or passion just like reading, writing, or sketching. It's escaping into a different reality which is what most artists do. Gaming should be considered another form of self expression? You can tell a beautiful story by creating a simple pixel RPG. People can live your story, virtually. 


Video games also host a large forum for people to meet and interact. I know couples who have met through virtual reality and are in happy relationships. Virtual chat instigates friendships and enemies just like the real world. Gamers arent always introverts (though I am one) but wouldn't you like to be friends with someone who shares your interests? Gamers find other gamers. We're a large community and we're not lonely.

Tomboys don't exist

I'm a big fan of video games. I was playing Assassin's creed revelations and yelling "DIE! DIE! DIE!" at the TV in a frenzy. I was sitting hunched up, My hair was tied up in a messy bun, I was in my PJs, I had my glasses on and my face was sweaty and scrunched up from concentrating on killing this horde of Janissaries. My older sister and her friend were deftly pinning up their hair while I was expertly escaping from the Janissary camp. Their faces were flawless, their outfits were trendy and accentuated their shapes, their hair was shiny and perfect. They both looked extremely beautiful as they were getting ready for a night on the town.  They both looked over to me and exclaimed that I was such a tomboy. I burst out laughing.

I don't think tomboys exist.

 Yes, the scene I depicted doesn't paint a very feminine picture of me but that's just one side of my multifaceted personality. I've always thought of myself as a stereotypical girly-girl. I'm careful about my hair, make-up and outfits. I'm a hopeless romantic and I believe that "Happily ever after" does exist. I watch beauty videos, cooking shows and hair tutorials. I read romance and fiction with an insatiable mania. I'm always worried about being a lady and conducting myself with poise, elegance and charm.

Do you still think I'm a tomboy?

I think every woman has a dominant feminine side but we all have our vices. Mine just happens to be video games. I know many other girls that love to talk about cars, electronics, sports and other "manly" things. But at their very core, they fuss over their outfits, hair or behavior. All women want to be noticed as women.  Hence, I say tomboys don't exist. It's just another stereotype designed to deteriorate a girl's self esteem.

Progress

My tens walls were whittled to six and I'm glad to say that finally the rubble has been cleared away and I've built some new walls.

Two walls had crumbled from the impact of the  lies and arrogance launched at them. The rubble from these two has been cleared away. They will not be rebuilt.  It makes me sad that I've lost people that were so important to me because of such petty human errors. But I don’t regret it because I've found some beautiful diamonds in the rubble.

The wall that was breaking due to vanity has been rebuilt. The cracks are still visible and the wall may yet crumble, but for now, my friend needs me in her life. And I'll be there for her for as long as she'll have me.

Also, I've built a new wall. A strong, thick wall, decorated with beautiful memories. This wall is a little distant from where I stand but nonetheless it is important. This new wall I've built with the utmost care. I've supported it when it was vulnerable and new and I've leaned on it when I felt like all my walls were crumbling. This wall is cemented with respect and understanding.  This wall is for my brother. He's moving away but he and I will always stand by each other. To me, that's what really matters.

Broken Armor

I was the one to find my mother inches away from death. Her robotic voice and the obscure words she said to me before I saw her, terrified me beyond belief.  No one can connect with that. The thought of losing something so precious is inconceivable to every child. No one else can understand how you feel, even if their story is similar. We all go through a different hell. I think Stephen King aptly described that emotion in his book, 'The Shining' when Danny Torrance, the protagonist, is forced to face the thought of his mother being murdered.

"Yet he could not equate these simple symbols with the shifting complex reality of his mother; she satisfied his childish definition of eternity, She had been when he was not. She would continue to be when he was not again. He could accept the possibility of his own death, he had dealt with that since the encounter in Room 2.13.

But not hers.

Not Daddy’s.

Not ever."

The only thing that helped me overcome my dark time was the love, support and comfort my family and friends supplied me with. My true family came to visit and did everything in their power to help. They sent food, money, and good wishes. They did so out of love and loyalty and not obligation, and they might never know how indebted to them I  truly am.

My real friends kept in touch. They listened to me vent, they hugged me and held me close on the days I could do nothing but cry. They told me I was beautiful when my face was streaked with tears and when my hair was messy. They supported me and understood when I got uncontrollably upset for insignificant things. They knew, as did my family, without me telling them, that my armor was broken and that I had lost a part of myself.