Wednesday, December 27, 2006
A wise man, he was. Jim Morrison, I mean. We are but, really, riders on the storm that is life. We're born into this house, and thrown into the world. And we're helpless to the killers on the road, and the loves to whom we must stay so true.
But if we let our guards down for even one second, something else will catch us in its grasp. Everything is swimming around us, trying not to get blown away in a gale, grabbing onto us for dear life, and only us, only you and only I can decide what we will let go of, and what we will hold even closer for warmth. And soon, there are so many of us together, being cast off into the storm, but so many of us can't all sail together forever, can we?
Some people keep us warmer than others, some people want us more. We're all a little helpless, submitted to the storm on which we can never stop sailing...
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
Can you imagine a world without music, books, or family? Life would be as dull as 20 pencils being shared by 200 high school students doing ACTs without a sharpener. There would be no color, if there was no music. There would be only speaking and remembering if there were no books. There would be no culture, if there was no family. Nobody would have any individuality, because there would be no genes. Everybody would be the same: dull grey blobs. We are very fortunate to have these treasures and other treasures as well.
--Chaitannya Krishan Agni AKA Chet- my awesometastic little brother, in a school assignment about things that he treasures.
Sunday, December 10, 2006
i've been writing a speech on love, and since then it seemed to be the theme of my weekend.
i went to a wedding, i was in the presence of someone signifigant and it seemed to pop up in conversation more than usual.
but i think that love is when you're best friends with the person and you're loyal to them and you want what's best for them and you still get goosebumps sometimes.
Saturday, October 21, 2006
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Monday, October 09, 2006
Saturday, September 16, 2006
James Mercer's descriptions of the songs do nothing but to not make me less excited. He describes "Phantom Limb", "The song is a hypothetical, fictional account of a young, lesbian couple in high school dealing with the shitty small town they live in.."
He says that a piano driven song, "Red Rabbits", will also appear along with "Spelling Lessons", "Spilled Needles" and "A Comet Appears".
He tells of how this new record will show how the Shins have "stretched", as the Sub Pop label has agreed to, as well.
Their most recent release, Chutes Too Narrow has sold 393,000 copies in the US.
This upcoming CD may be their last with Sub Pop records, as they have been receiving offers from larger record companies. Personally, I wish they didn't, as the Shins are one of the most solid indie bands, and if they stop being indie, we may have to redefine the genre. But ultimately, I shall still love them, even if they promote themselves to a higher level on the music chain. And everyone will still know that I heard them first, before Garden State.
I can't wait.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
Recently, my mother went to go register Chet for his new middle school and she was finished with the registration part and was inquiring as to what else she should/was supposed to do. And so this random lady walks up to her and goes, "Oh You're Chaitannya's Mom! I've been meaning to call you about testing Chet for ESL."
Not being familiar with what ESL is, my mother responded enthusiastically, thinking that ESL was some kind of gifted English class for amazing kids like Chet. Upon realizing that ESL is, in fact, an English as A Second Language class, she tried to get him out of taking the test. And the lady asks, "But doesn't Chet have a different name?"
And my mom says, yeah, his name's Chaitannya, and we make everyone call him Chet because no one can pronounce his name. But that hardly means he can't speak English. And of course, annoying ESL lady was like, "No, it's required that children in homes that speak languages other than English and have funny names [people who are not white]have their skills tested." (They know that because my mother filled out a survey back in like, June, that said we spoke both languages at home, probably to make us look good.)
So of course my mother protested some more, and the lady pulled out some wacky state law, which I'm sure doesn't exist, or at least, doesn't apply to us, because we live in Verona. So she signs Chet up to take this stupid ESL test that's designed to make it look like people of other cultures are completely incompetent, when in fact, the kids of this culture have a hard enough time understanding English, without teachers ditching them to pay attention to the so-called challenged kids who obviously can't have a grasp on two languages at once.
And Chet can't even UNDERSTAND Hindi. Chet, being the most articulate 10 year old going into 6th grade in the entire world (this kid Google him, if you doubt the claim.), receives ridiculous praise from all people who know him about his amazing language skills. His essays get read to the class. My mother is in love with his handwriting. The people at College for Kids want to have his kids.And,just because we're not white, doesn't mean we can't speak English.
My parents speak English all the time. They're better at it than most senators, because they've been learning it since they were born as well. They know Oxford words. I won the spelling bee at my middle school. I got my 5th grade essays published in the school chronicles and published my own magazine in 5th grade. We're not stupid people. Not to mention that we're all amazingly gifted musically and academically. We can speak in multiple accents/dialects. We have good grammar. And just because we're educated, and know more languages than some people, we should have our abilities questioned? Just because Chet's name is simplified for folks who can't be bothered to pronounce his real name correctly? If we think that Chet can't speak English, then we'll put him in ESL ourselves. We're not going out of our way on a weekday, just to have my little brother objectified by a test that will eventually tell us what we already know. That Chet is the most amazingly talented English-speaking, American-born, Indian, 10-year-old sixth grader ever.
And my mom told them just that.
And the ESL lady didn't dare tell her otherwise.
Monday, August 14, 2006
I know this is completely narcissistic, but... I think that I'm beautiful.
Like, for serious, I do. Not all the time, of course. But secretly beneath my skin, beneath my insecurities and beneath all the time that I spend worrying about what I look like, I think I'm pretty smokin' hot. In fact, I may go as far as saying that I'm pretty much God's gift to all people who can see. And people who can hear, because I do have a lovely non-speaking voice.
So now that we have that out of the way.
It really really really bugs me, when other people don't think I'm pretty. I feel personally insulted. Like, really. I know it's all a matter of opinion and it's all about personality, but I feel as if it's so strikingly clear that I'm fabulous, that no one should even argue. I mean, what could be wrong with me?
I do tend to ask people what they think of my appearance quite a bit though. People think this is because I have low self esteem, but really, it has nothing to do with this. I just like to have my beauty affirmed by other people. A lot of the times I hope that they'll say something's pretty about me that I've never heard anyone notice before. This usually doesn't happen.
Sometimes, they'll grade me lower than expected. For example, I've been given a 6 out of 10, by about, 2 people. And they think it's a compliment. "YOU'RE ABOVE AVERAGE." is what they say, but what I think is, "Yeah, duh. I'm above average, but how much?" And 6 = bare minimum.
So if I'm bare minimum above average, than who's higher than me? I mean, I know I'm prettier than, say, Brooke Shields. And I know you're all like, "Omigosh, she just compared herself to Brooke Shields!" but you all know it's true. Celebrities are not any better than us, appearance wise, just because they're famous. I mean, grading myself, I'd say, I'm a 7.5. And I'd say Brooke is about a 7. Because we're talking in terms of beauty, not appeal, not popularity and not height. Yeah, sure, she's sexy.
Similarly, I get mad when I don't look as good as I normally do, or think is my ideal. And everyone else is like, "Oh, sweetheart, you look fine." But they don't know that I can look a million times better, and that this is bare minimum and a lot of the time bare minimum is not enough. Besides the fact that looking fine is not enough. For me, being beautiful and all.
But the thing is, people never realize how much looks don't matter. Because half my life was an awkward phase and half the time, I didn't even know it. Being pretty or whatever, has done absolutely nothing for me. I'm still a huge dork, whereas Brooke Shields isn't as pretty as me, and she's a total babe. It totally has nothing to do with looks at all. I mean, it seems that way, to the naked eye, but when you actually look, the people you think are pretty, aren't and the people you think are sexy, aren't much different from the people you don't think are sexy, and the people who you think are smart are just as smart as anyone else.
And just because you know that you're pretty, or just because you are, doesn't mean anyone else will think so.
And really, I don't always think I'm pretty. But I always think other people should think so. It would bug me to think that someone looked beyond my looks and decided to like my personality or something. I don't think anyone should have to deal with being treated like that. Because I think that a lot of people look good in different ways, and it really doesn't have a lot to do with the way they look, but really, who's looking at them. Because I've never seen an ugly person before.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Today it occurred to me how easy it is to hide from others and from ourselves. We teach ourselves to believe that we shouldn't or don't feel a certain way... and then suddenly this tiny thing that we brush aside and keep far away in the depths of our conscious hits us in the face and we're stunned.
It is so so so easy for me to complete shut my parents out of my life. In fact, I notice myself doing it all the time. I long for the relationship with my parents that I see on Boy Meets World or Gilmore Girls, where their parents just sort of "got" them. I've wished countless times that my life were that simple. And sometimes, they do get me and then I realize that we're not so different, but it's only for a second and then, I'll ruin it by turning the music up too loud or something else that shows "complete disrespect for the house and the family".
The other day, I was online and it was like, 3 AM or something. And my mother was waking up, because that's when she normally starts her day. [She's crazy.] She, of course, expressed disbelief at my power to still be awake at 3 AM. She asked me what the hell I was wasting my time with on the computer at this hour. And I said I was doing something creative with one of my blogs. Then she said, "Why would you have a blog? That's like an online diary."
and I said, "Yeah. Cuz it is."
Then she said, "You won't tell us anything, but you'll tell a bunch of random strangers?" I didn't say anything. I was tempted to tell her to read my blog, just like everyone else, but I knew that having me confide something in them shouldn't be some huge deal. I mean, after all, they're my parents. Most of the time, anything that means anything is communicated after a long, thorough, drawn out, full-blown argument or at least, direct questioning until I finally scream out the response. It's not as though, I don't want them to know anything, it's just that I tell myself that they can only be using any information that they know against me, like they're interrogating me in a courtroom. But my parents are not unlike me. They build it up in their head, realizing that I won't open up, so they'll try to get the information forcefully. And it's one horrible vicious cycle, because I feel like I've not talked for so long, how can I start now?
I forget sometimes, I build a wall, sometimes, keeping them out. I notice how they're my worst critics, but not enough that they're my biggest fans. I feel like a hypocrite if I go on thinking I'm some wonderful communicator because I can talk and I say what's on my mind, if I can't even open up to my own parents. For so long, probably since 5th grade, it's all on a need to know basis with my parents. Like today, I went to my friend Caitlin's house to hang out and watch movies. I didn't tell my mom about it. Me and Caitlin had been talking about it for like, a whole week, but I just never got around to telling my mom, because I figured, there was no reason for her to know, because she wouldn't be my ride, and I got all my work done for her. And I figured.. why bother her? But the thing is, my mother wants to know. I don't tell my mother the simplest things, like the people I eat lunch with or what my favorite ice cream flavor is. And for some reason, I expect her to just know. I'm insane. I know it. And I'm lucky. I'm lucky that my parents want to know what's going on in my life. I wish I wasn't so terrible about it. I know so many people who's parents don't ask and don't tell. And I think, how ... empty it must feel. And here I am, with my interactive family, just keeping them out. I feel terrible for having wasted them for so long. I've realized lately that you don't get to keep everything forever, so you better use them really well when you got 'em. I don't want my parents to slip away from me.
Saturday, August 05, 2006
I read this on Cnn.com
Does anyone else look at this and think "Horrible. Disgusting. Disturbing."? I know I do.
Cerak, 19, of Gaylord, was among nine people from Taylor University in Indiana riding in a school van that collided with a tractor-trailer on April 26.
Five people died in the crash, including Laura VanRyn, a 22-year-old Taylor senior. But VanRyn's mother and father were mistakenly told that she was alive while Cerak's parents were told that their daughter, whose injuries initially left her in a near-comatose state, was dead.
VanRyn's family and boyfriend kept vigil at Cerak's bedside for five weeks before realizing the error.
How would you feel if you thought your daughter was saved from a horrible accident.. only to find that she was dead? What kind of heart string pulling do you need? Whoever is responsible for the mixup makes me ill.
And how could the family be so silly as to not recognize their own daughter/girlfriend? I mean, if you look at the pictures.. they look NOTHING alike.
Friday, August 04, 2006
They have a tendency to go off on tangents.
"AARUSHI. YOU COULD GET PREGNANT TOMORROW!"
They actually pledged that should I get pregnant, even though I shouldn't unless I want to, that they'd keep the kid and take care of it.
Which scared the hell out of me.
They also reminded me that I'm only 15.
All of this based on like, Jason putting my hair behind my ear in front of my dad.
Well that's okay, I guess.
I'm not planning on getting pregnant today anyway. It would kind of run in with my guitar lesson.
Speaking of sex talks...
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
Papa: Aarushi, Load the dishwasher. I've done my part and fed you. Now you have to do your part and clean up the kitchen.
Aarushi: ...But Chet's being fed too...
Papa: But you're the girl!
(Papa exits. Chet has a wide grin on his face. Aarushi pouts.)
Sunday, July 23, 2006
"Everyone needs rhythm, Chet! Believe me, they're essential. Do you know how many bands don't have drummers? You can be like KEITH MOON. DON'T YOU WANNA BE LIKE KEITH MOON? See that Chet! Look at him, isn't he impressive? Don't you wanna be like him? Oh my god, Chet.. even a capella groups need a drummer. Anyone can sing, but don't you want to drum?"
Until he was like "OKAY. I'LL DO IT."
yes. he's gonna be a rockstar !
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
i need a hero...
Don't you wish that just one person could save the world? That one person can just see what's wrong and take responsibility, while civilians could just watch in appreciation?
Unfortunately, life's not like that. Because there is more than one evil. And instead of facing helpful admiring bystanders, today's heroes are facing hoards of people who try to hurt them and break their spirits. These heroes have to fight, not only the evil monsters of poverty and discrimination and injustice, but also the people who feel as if the injustice needs to be there. And little can be expected of these few mighty heroes who are working alone, because in order for anything to really be saved, everyone has to play the hero.
The weight of the world is on everyone's shoulders. But will everyone find the strength to fight?
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Why the 1920s were cool/important
• -flapper skirts
• -Women’s liberation
• -jazz & black people!
o Harlem renaissance- Louis Armstrong & Zora Neale Hurston & Langston Hughes
o Black people started loving themselves
• -people actually like going to school.
• The north finally gets some black people. <3
o c’mon you know it was the bee’s knees
• -ban on alcohol abuseË more alcohol abuse
o gangsta-ism ‡ Al Pacino
• -it was when it became okay to hate Russians & Italians. (kidding. Geez)
o -Red Scare‡ Sacco & Venzetti- “If you could execute me 2 times and I could be reborn two other times. I would live again to do what I have done already.” –Bartolomeo Venzetti
• When “going on strike” wasn’t lame or cliché
o Boston Police Strike- police want raises. Police don’t get a raise cuz Calvin doesn’t like people who demand what they want. Calvin replaces them and gives the new workers their benefits.
o Steel Mill Strike- US steel corporation (sep 1919)‡ workers are pissed cuz working conditions suck. No one wanted to stop so the wickedness went on until January despite pleas from Woodrow himself‡ labor unions had bad images thanks to big corporations’ propaganda
o Coal Miners’ Strike- successful 27% increase in wage
o But unfortunately, labor movements lose appeal cuz people were immigrants & immigrants can’t exactly say “Qu’est-ce que nous desirons? L’argent beaucoup!” when the person next to them is like “yo man. I want some money. Please?” Farmers were used to self reliance. Oh yeah, and labor people didn’t like black people.
• All we hear is Radio Ga-Ga
• We also like Magazines and Newspapers‡ cuz now we can all read.
• Cities are cool now. But you know, not everyone fits in. sigh
But then there was that thing that everyone liked, but kind of didn’t trust. It was called… a credit card.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
I live in a new neighborhood now. Everything about it is new. My house, the people, the parks. They're all only about 5 years out of mint condition. I've acquired new things that I didn't expect from this neighborhood, a bus pass, a special friend, a new appreciation for wide roads and a fetish for cutesy road names like "Shadow Wood", "Eagle Wood",and so on and so forth.
Today, while exploring the neighborhood, me and my boyfriend and my little brother and his little sister were at one of the parks. I had the best time. The sun was setting and it was pretty and we walked home the long way, partially because we were lost. While the sun was setting my dad called my phone and I said we'd be home soon.
I went home and had little homework done by midnight. (when you have a long list, and the assignments take like 3 hours each... it can get difficult..) So I was just about to set my alarms and then I realized I couldn't find my cell phone. I called it incessantly. I asked my mother where it was (yeah, she was on the couch at 1 in the morning half asleep) and she had no clue. I asked my dad who also was similarly bewildered.
So we went out into the middle of the night, around our dark neighborhood with a flashlight. I, at first, tried to do the stupid thing and retrace all my steps backward from the park. My dad, using a lot of profane language, suggested we head straight to the park, while giving me lecture #741 which consists of "I can't believe you would do this... No regard... Absent minded... you don't ever think".. The park that I went to is hidden behind a grassy hill, so it took us forever to locate it.
And then I had a vague memory of Annie asking to use it on the way home, and me pulling it out. So I told my dad, after we had walked through the park that I was sure I dropped it walking home. But then my dad insisted that he had heard some kind of chemical beep that only comes from a missed call on our intrusive cellphones. We called the phone and I heard the faintest tones of "New Slang" by the Shins and I almost still believed that it must be on a sidewalk in the near distance, but then he called again and I walked further into the grass. I heard it louder. It was almost eerie. (It was 1:15: everything's eerie at 1:15) We went back to where we had just been, but thanks to the sound of my very distinctive ringtone that I had kept on Loud because I'm prepared for these types of situations, we found it right there by the wall where we'd just looked, but the gosh darn cellphone is black, so you'd never be able to tell.
We were both excited at how cool that was. I'm really happy that I live in a neighborhood where the parks are abandoned after 8 o'clock. I'm glad my cell phone didn't die or anything out in the cold. But my dad insisted on saying "I told you so," and "You were going to make us retrace all your steps" and "Why is it that common sense is so uncommon?" I protested by telling my father that it's a little harder to think on your feet when your dad is lecturing, and he shot me down saying that I should be able to channel out his lectures.
And because of this, I know there's life outside homework at 1AM. Although I still have 2 more assignments to complete. :P
Monday, May 22, 2006
I never fall asleep in some place comfortable. I don't even pick the comfortable couch. I always fall asleep on the short couch, where in order to be comfortable, you have to rest your knees on the armrest and then you wake up and you're aching all over and your back in a funny position and you're like, "What the fuck? Why didn't I pick the comfortable couch? Why didn't I walk up the stairs and go to sleep in my bed? I'm so going to do that next time." But of course, you never do, because at the moment, it's the uncomfortable couch that you involuntarily succumb to. At that moment, you get a flicker of reason, but the sleep is too loud to re-assess your decision. People should never be expected to make decisions when they're tired.
I actually read somewhere that you should never make a decision when you're lying down, because that's when you're most vulnerable and likely to make a decision you'll regret. It's scary but it's actually true. My thoughts so easily shift into the gutter or into a perplexed fantasy state if I'm lying down and trying to figure out what to do. Everything seems so simple when you're lying down... kind of lke you're looking up at the whole world. And so you make all of these ingenius plans... and then you fall asleep. And everything you thought of seems so stupid upon reflection. Sometimes I think that that's just me, tricking myself into believing that my ideas are ludicrous after I conceive them. Because as soon as I stand up, passive aggressive Rushi kicks in. And all of my me-related thoughts get kicked out.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Yeah, okay. thanks. I get it now.
I played "Scar Tissue" on the piano. I was bored. My sister's whining. We were supposed to go to the mall. geez.
Monday, May 08, 2006
I think I'm seriously considering getting psychological help.
Today I cried over my bed.
Well actually over my room. I don't know why.
We've recently moved into a new house. This is everything that we've been working towards for the past 2 years. My parents have been obsessed with my new house, always stressed out, always burdened by finances. And now we finally live here.
We still have to pay two mortgages until our other house gets sold.
But yeah. I had to move school districts in September and start going to Memorial High School, which, yeah, was an adjustment.
I'm pretty much in my routine and have made friends, and all that jazz, but...I don't know.
I feel like I don't know myself at all anymore. I used to be so completely sure of myself all the time. Now I'm uncertain and unconfident and I have about 50 inferiority complexes and I'm passive aggressive and I've discovered that I actually do things subconsciously to make myself fail.
and so, today... the third or so day that i'm spending the night at my new house.. my dad tried to move my bed.
I've been sleeping right next to a window, which my mother has been complaining about because she's had disturbing dreams about people falling out of windows and my dad came to my room unannounced, and yeah, I haven't even done my homework yet and he just came in, upsetting my peace and went, "We have to move your bed." and then he put it at this ridiculous diagonal and I can't even think in my room in the first place and I don't know why, I got sooo angry. I made him go away and close the door and moved my bed back against the wall and moved my shelf to the other side of the room and moved my boom box.
I was overcome by this feeling of being overwhelmed by life. And whenever I feel overwhelmed or freaked out, I have no idea where to turn or what I'm even talking about anymore. I feel so unsafe and like I can't reach anyone who'll make me feel secure. One person, all year, has made me feel secure... but that completely backfired and... I don't think I'll ever be completely safe again. And I keep analyzing myself and feeling unable to do anything I don't feel like doing or even talk to people who I like. I'm not depressed or anything... I'm just anxious.
And I'm really sick of dealing with it myself. I feel like I might implode. I really really want to be psychoanalyzed..because I'd really like to know how to fix myself.
Friday, April 14, 2006
It seems as if no matter how hard people try to make things go as planned, their own preventive measures always fuck it up anyway. Not worrying doesn't work either.
For example, a person finds that when they stop paying attention or obsessing over something, the most success is gained. Suddenly they're relieved of their worries. So they go around, not paying attention and not obsessing. And now that they've stopped, they mess themselves up because they didn't pay enough attention. It's as if the human is doomed to fail from the start and the more they want something, or strive to gain it, the more difficult it becomes.
Is it all mental?
One would think so. People convince themselves that they can't do things and then never are able to, because of their own convictions. But other times, people are confident and sure of themselves.... and then are sadly surprised. '
Can everything we desire be achieved? Or are there just some things that we have to learn to live without mastering and try and work around difficulties? Like Geometry or Hand-eye coordination...
Is there a limit to how much a human can actually be able to do?
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
"when you're not in love, or you don't have love, everyone you know falls in love on like the same day. "-dane cook
i agree. why is that? why the fuck?
this is stupid. that is so incredibly dumb. why does that always happen?
sometimes i feel like there's a new law like the law of energy, like.. love is never destroyed or created, just like.. moved from place to place or transformed.
like.. not everyone can be happy at the same time so one person has to stop being happy in order for another one to gain happiness. maybe that's what love's like.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Monday, March 13, 2006
like.. just completely sick of yourself and what you think of yourself and the excuses you make and the thoughts that you think?
like it's possible to get sick of other people.. so can't you get sick of yourself?
i think i'm feeling some self-ennui.
Monday, February 20, 2006
But it's going to be a long while before that happens again.. as I'm sure I've developed some trust issues.
Saturday, February 18, 2006
Like a perfectly normal, not very signifigant, random, maybe even tiny, person doesn't like you.. and you can't do anything about it..
and it just burns inside of you. And it's only because you did something inexplicably wrong, maybe, once.. in your life, and you're paying for it forever, because they don't like you. And they're perfectly okay not liking you. And they're perfectly fine, liking all of your friends and being nice to everyone, just that you have that special, horrible, dislikable quality.
It's like an opposite of someone having a crush on you. It's like someone having an anti-crush on you.. They dislike you for some reason, and you don't know what.
And you're one of those people, who can't live with themselves if they find themself disliking anyone or anything, because you feel mean, and like you're a bad person, so you going around.. thinking the best thoughts about everyone, recognizing everyone's fantastic qualities. And just feeling that little pang of heartbreak, when you know that they don't recognize anything in you. That you don't really matter to them in anyway. That your existence is unimportant.. and when you know, you'd go out of your way to help them, they'd just walk on by without even seeing.
...and it hurts. because you don't remember doing anything wrong.. and you don't know how it can change. and you wonder what's wrong with you, that makes you so unspecial, so... undeserving of people's neutral feelings toward you. It's not even that you need to be liked.. only to be considered of decent character, of decent interestingness.
But even that, is a charity, and a rare one at that.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Since my sister is the coolest person ever, she got a job at CitiGroup in New York... because she completely blew these guys away with her interview.And like, this was like, this huge deal, and she got picked out of so many people. and they hired her practically on the spot.
She makes me soooooo proud. and she's totally achieving all of her dreams
and when I grow up I want to be just like her.
except I don't like banks.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Lately, my life has just been a quest to keep myself entertained. This is probably because my recent social structure and way of life has been shaken off of its hinges. And I have no idea what to do now. So I am reverting back to an old precedent, set back in the days of Core Knowledge Charter School... Just focus on school.
This proves to be a lot more difficult than planned as it is a stressful topic, to say the least. I'm so so so afraid of my future, and what I'm going to do with my life. Suddenly it feels as if I'm expected to get a career tomorrow.. and I don't know whether to be a journalist or a psychoanalyst or a musician. Music-wise I am unsure. I have to pick a genre. I'm too eclectic for my own damn good. I mean, sure, fine. I pick rock. But rock itself is divided into millions of sub categories, and do I like Classic better? Or do I like Modern? And what about my parents and what they like? They hate modern rock. I think.
And journalism is so tough. And everyone wants to be a journalist, and who am I to think I'm better than anyone else?
And I'm not completely sure what a psychoanalyst is. I mean, they analyze and that's what I'm good at I guess.
My dad wants me to be a doctor along with the entire rest of the Indian population plus all the people who are projecting things for the years to come. There are not enough people being trained for medical professions and there will soon be a demand for people who are qualified to fill them, so therefore, the doctor salary will go up. My father says that if I wish to be comfortable in the coming shaky years, I should really go into medicine as it is a noble profession that would require all my skills. And the crazy thing is, it doesn't seem to be such a bad idea. He makes it seem like they need me.
But in order to even think of my future, I need to be getting good grades so I can get into good classes. But I'm living on a prayer in geometry. All these classes are so interesting that will benefit me like, Efficient Reading, and Medical Occupations and Math Chemistry and English TAG but I'm scared to death that I'll have no life or no time to deal with any of it.
Geometry is so scary. I just keep dreaming of right triangles... a squared plus b squared equals c squared. and then I start doing a squared multiplied by b squared= c squared. and that's wrong. but my mind is so fried on everything, everything, everything. it just.. never stops. I always have some kind of Geometry to do and it just nags at me.. and makes me feel bad. And I can never really pinpoint the problem, because I can always partially understand what's going on. It's just.. I fall short in some place. And I don't know where. And there's no one willing to commit time to help me.. and it seems too big of an effort to get a school tutor, as I'll have to go meet them and they'll teach me the things I understand over and over and over and the things I don't get, which are more subtle, will fall at the wayside, and it won't help my grade any....
and every time I wake up from a right triangle dream, I don't want to, because then I realize I have to do Geometry. And my mind is just a maze of shapes and numbers and theorums and formulas and slopes...
and I want out. now.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
I can't really say why. But it does the weirdest most unexpected things to you. And you don't know why and you're like, well.. there's nothing i can do, so whatever. Just react or don't react.
But everything happens for a reason, and you figure out reasons eventually. right?
Boys are weirdd.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
He's so brave. He can watch his own father die... Declare him to be medically dead and break it to the rest of his family. He could clean up his own father's body and make funeral arrangements. He's just so calm. He's not depressed over his death.. He knew it was time. I don't know how he does it.
Friday, January 13, 2006
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Especially when opportunity is jumping up and down, waving frantically and calling out at them. They had their chance. Too bad.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
i have no idea what to do with myself.
i feel like i should tell people, but i don't want it to seem like I want their pity.
but i'm sad.
and i keep trying to call India and the number to call India starts with (011) 9111.. and then the police stopped by our house.. but luckily they weren't mad when I explained it.
I'm such a horrible person...
it makes me sound totally emo or selfpitying when i keep talking about myself.
I mean, what right have I to be sad?
but really, all i want is for someone to be there telling me it's okay.
but no one really wants to be
and i don't want to bug anyone
or be needy.
i absolutely hate this.
i want it to be yesterday again.
i don't feel up to doing anything...
i can't sleep.
i don't know how not to be unhappy.
it's like... this achey feeling. and it won't go away. and i just want to roll over and fall asleep and not wake up for a long time...
but i know i'm going to have to go to school tomorrow. i'm going to have to be happy.
and show off my expert resilience.
and deal with those bitchy kids in health class and my scary geometry and take notes in History...
but i can't.
Yeah. Um. yeah....
My Dada, my dad's dad, died.. like 2 hours ago.
I don't really kow what to do with myself.
It's not as if we were ever close... it's just that... I always wanted to be. I always thought we should be, if not for his stupid.. whatthefuck was it.. degenerative brain illness.
it's just like, he's been dying my whole life, slowly... it's been hurting all of those around him, and he's not been himself for at least 10 or 15 years. but all this time, i've known he'd been dying, but i never thought he would actually,...die.
It's stupid I know. but i still thought that like... I don't know. Like I always kind of had this wish that he could get better.
And I don't know.... like, I never really knew him. He was the once brilliant grandfather.. but I only knew him to be sick, in bed, distant.
Over the past year, my dad visited India like 2 times... because his state had been worsening. He'd been getting worse and worse, forgetting how to swallow, moving his food tubes around, getting skinnier and skinnier...
And uh, he went to India yesterday...
but then.. today, just after my guitar lesson, I was complaining about Karen and how my teacher keeps telling me we haven't paid when we have, and my mom said, "Papa has reached." and I was like, "Oh cool! So, do you want to go to Qdoba?"
and then she says that he called her about an hour ago.. to let her know that my dad woke up in the middle of the night and came to see if my Dada needed anything... and then.. he died... he was asleep. and.. it was peaceful.. it was one breath.
and I don't know.. I felt so stupid.
Like... I don't know..
And then, I, well, like, my brother
he..we picked him up from karate.. and he didn't even know yet. and he was happy. and then my parents' friends were there.. and I was in tears and
i don't know.
It just hurt, you know?
For everyone. My dad, especially.
I mean, I realized that I'd been the worst daughter in the world. Every single time I was disrespectful.. I mean, my dad lost his dad.
I couldn't even deal with a week of separation from mine.
I don't know.
I just don't know.
And for all the family members, for my grandmother...
for them all, it's a relief, sort of, they'd been taking care of him for so long.
But he hasn't been himself.
I don't know.
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Just because I was bored.
nobody does it like she does.
post-self improvement haircut picture in a badly lit bathroom.
it's a nice day to start again.
deep eyes... deep thinker shot. pre concert.
& she's buying a stairway to heaven
another bathroom picture of me and cassie being bestestest friends.
i'm not smiling behind these fake veneers
funny story. i used to wear glasses
until i lost them.
i'm trying to find out if my words have any meaning..
i dont know, i just like my earrings in this picture.my nose is gigantic.
i found a fatal flaw
in the logic of love
i sort of like this one
you could have it so much better.
this picture is funny looking & emoish.
tell me a story, i know you're not boring.
& the new strokes CD is out.
do you feel the same, or am i only dreaming?
or is this burning an eternal flame?
Sunday, January 01, 2006
All the good things that Happened in O5.
1. So like, Classes.
I came back from a blissful, Gilmore Girls filled break to find that, all of my classes had been switched. I was in complete and utter shock. But soon, I grew to love my lack of a friendly environment. It wasn't as if people were mean, anyway.. they were just never people that I hung out with. I had a friend in 2 of my classes. But the new people allowed me to branch outwards and actually know about people besides my own friends who kind of had their heads stuck in their own clouds.
I made sort of friends.. or at least peace, with a lot of people.. and realized that they weren't half bad.
2. The Musical Renaissance
I guess it came around the New Year. That year's New Year was actually a good one for resolutions. I made like a million resolutions, a lot of which, I didn't keep, but those that I did, were the best changes I've ever made. Because I changed so much. So after a while.. maybe after I started watching Gilmore Girls and stopped listening to the radio, I realized that the music that I'd been listening to, didn't do much for me at all. It didn't make me happy or lighten my mood. But I knew that there was music that I knew that kept me happy... for example, I liked Rooney, Queen, The Beatles, Franz Ferdinand, Bright Eyes, the Shins, Jamie Cullum, the Strokes and random bands I had heard and loved, even though they weren't exactly mainstream... but that year, I figured, to hell with the mainstream... I wanted to find the music that made me happy... and it was easier than I thought... as soon as I came across a lovely internet program called... Limewire... that allowed me to listen to music that I actually like. Finally this year, I was able to locate the music that had been beating underneath my skin, for so many years.
3. Ah, the birth of the bean.
It was this year that I truly became addicted to coffee. See, I was always unable to sleep at night.. I mean, even now, it's like 2:33 AM. I had severe insomnia.. and am still chronically sleep deprived. In 8th grade, this was a problem, considering the fact that being a fully fledged teenager who had to stay up late for these truly dreadful history tests that the best teacher ever set, well, you had to stay up late and study and be exhausted the whole rest of the day, because your test was first period. I used to use Altoids to keep me alive, but this didn't work so well, and I found myself falling ill. Probably near the end of 2004, I began drinking coffee steadily... just to wake up in the morning.. I needed it. But I became dependant on it after I began to use it on days when I didn't get any sleep... or I would binge at night before staying up late...
I guess you could say I hit rock bottom when I was spotted smuggling coffeegrounds to school in a plastic bag and drinking them down with water... my friend Mary kindly confiscated them... but really..
I'd have to say coffee was a good addition, because it allowed me to go without sleep and still be alive... although, now without coffee, I'm pretty much crazy.
4. Oh well, whatever. Nevermind.
Nothing like a good infatuation to screw with your mind in 8th grade... and that's just what I had... it was very painful. But it was a breath of fresh air from being prospect-less all the time prior. It sucked though.
5. So, so you think you can spell...
I fulfilled my destiny in winning the school spelling bee and landing in like 5th or something at the regionals... I seriously learned how much I truly hated spelling, especially out loud. I pretty much threw the regionals... even though I know how to spell gerrymandering. Cuz, um, I never wanted to spell ever again...but, don't tell my parents that.
6. As we go on, we remember..
I would have to say, one of the most sad, yet amazing moments this year was promotion...
In 8th grade, in Verona, they always have this really luxe graduation ceremony that everyone prepares for all year.. Girls talk about and buy their dresses the summer before 8th grade and everyone freaks out over the farewell dance...
well, being the procrastinator that I have the misfortune to be, I didn't buy a dress until the weekend before the Farewell Dance. But I suppose I didn't much care for the dance anyway.
It was nice... it gave me some closure on that infatuation thing... and well, it broke one of my best friends hearts for a good long while. Ah well.
The real event came with promotion... it was so surreal before that.. it seemed like a big joke that I would be leaving Verona.. I would be leaving all the people that I'd grown up with, but I had to realize it.. and I realized that it was for the best, because every change that has happened in my life, has changed it for the better. I was giving a speech at promotion, although, I didn't know what I would say.. it was like, some big deal to me, to tell everyone goodbye.. to see them off, to wish them luck. Promotion is just a big blur to me.. it was amazing.. and strange and filled with.. moments.
Like, when I said my speech, and like, I don't know, people crying.. When I got my "middle school completion certificate". And the whole time, I didn't shed a single tear, I just sat their shaking my leg... shivering in that cold room..
and then..it was over.
And I was just like, standing up... and all my friends rushed over and hugged me... and then Sarah hugged me and cried like, "I'M GONNA MISS YOU SO MUCH"... and I don't know how, but that just... well
I was pretty much waterworks after that. And Sarah started to cry... and Mary started to cry and Cassie cried... and we have all these pictures of all of us with our makeup running everywhere.. and trust me.. i looked disgusting.
Later, me and Sarah went to Coldstone. And then we all went to the Promotion Party thing at the HighSchool and got this big ass group pic of all of us.
7.The District Sleeps Alone Tonight
The summer of memories kicked off on the Washington DC trip, which was sort of a blast, besides the fact that 2 of my friends were told by my father to run interference and not let me drink coffee... a statement which they took all too seriously. It was amazing though, seeing all those monuments with some of my best friends. I totally spent all of the 70 dollars I was given... We got these majorly weird food coupons, that redeemed food, so I always got Indian food, because I missed my home.. Not too much happened other than that.. just a lot of reflection and a lot of giggles.
8. Skies may not always be blue.. but One thing is clear as can be.
It was that time again. That CTM time. Oh yes. It was clear as day that this would be the biggest, bombest, raunchiest CTM ever. This might have possibly been due to the format change from Punk to Classic Rock. Or perhaps because we had a new director by the name of Andy, who had all this new wave "type" stuff going on... or the fact that I was not the only one this year with an ...(drumroll please) iPod.
Or maybe it was because we all knew eachother. Or some kind of bizarre twist in the space time continuum which placed Sierra into my summer life. Well, I guess I always knew that she'd follow me into my new world.
Basically, one of the cool things that happened, was that I, yes, little old Indian loudmouth, me, got a lead role.. which was actually quite nice considering the lines were like 15% en Francais and 100% in a French accent... and I got a song... which is redemption for all the money my parents have spent sending me to drama school all these years.
Plus there was like a new cast of fresh hotties and a very delectable set of new interns (including LorettaMaretta, who me and Allie just always forgot whether her name was either one).
and of course.. there was that little time when we met Rachel Bilson & Zach Braff. And um, yeah, those were totally my pictures that they put in the press release. Thanks for asking.
That show was pretty much lots and lots of fun, with a little bit of drama, a little bit of mischief... tossed in. you know. To keep the egos happy.
9. Let the good times roll.
This was the summer of dreams... the summer of music. the summer of no love whatsoever. The summer of finding our ways around state street... of buying the new harry potter book, the second it came out. Of finishing that Harry Potter book within a day of buying it... and doing water aerobics classes to socialize with old people... of going to State Street every Friday and dreaming about the man at the record store... of taking pictures no end and photoshopping them to make them look pretty. Of staying up late on AIM, and having your friend send you a whole Interpol album, of trying and failing to find a job... of discovering my psychological need for Pink Floyd and starting to play the guitar. Of practicing with my cute faux-band and taking our show on the road, all the way to Green Lake... and paying our groupies in cookies, and stopping at IHOP at 11 pm and making friends with the staff and the guy who sits behind us... of taking a good hard look at the selves we are or used to be... and accepting and being open to change... of being young.. of living... I pretty much had a kick ass summer.
10. And if the answer is no, can I change your mind?
Starting school... was... I have no idea how to describe it.. I guess you could say.. Memorial was an adjustment. A huge one. Like... only now, am I slightly sure of my presence there, and my sense of belonging. When I first got here, it was just .. all very big. And I guess it takes me a long while to orient myself.. shake myself out of my agoraphobia and meeting people. At first, I was like, "HOLY SHIT. IT'S A FUCKING HUMAN STAMPEDE." and then... it just slowed into a sort of depressive state.. not all of us got to fall in love on the first day. I can't say it was easy at all.. it took me like 3 weeks to fully get used to everything, the people, the teachers, the hallways.. and it took me even longer to get used the homework, because my summer was a bit too blissful and Memorial is a bit too big of an adjustment... and so is geometry.
I have to say, I did the first real thing wrong in my life at homecoming... by sneaking in... but I didn't really have a choice.. since I was avoiding being raped. After a while, I began to enjoy my routine and find people I could pretty much stand to talk to... and some forced socializing always helps to make friends... my most instant friends were in my photo class, because we all basically clicked.. and since RJ is basically my hero, I hung out with his friends pretty much everyday at lunch.. and then there's always the DDAF people, and Xiomara and my friend Chris..and the random frosh who I've somehow managed to befriend. Because for me, it's not difficult to make friends, it's just difficult for me to decide whether or not I actually like them.. I'm sort of a drifter in my school... because there isn't a group that I've decided on.. and I like it,because I can hang around with whoever.
11. We'll hang around and say musical grace.
A sidenote.. I went to the Decemberists concert and the Kodos concert. and they pretty much kicked ass.
And also, I got to refriend some of the people I was afraid of losing touch with like Mary and Eba. Thank god.
12.&& i found a fatal flaw in the logic of love
So basically, I was liked by people who didn't like me back and um, I guess now that's over..
and also... I went through a lot of weird crushes/potentials/prospects... and um.. am now.. sadly, in love for the second time in my whole life... and that's basically what I guess is going to kick off my new year... Oh good, lord. So welcome 2006... and may you be even better than 2005.