Day 1

Day 1, I guess. 3AM
Mumbai, India
July 9, 2008
Would today be Day 1? I don’t think that it is because Day 1 is probably the first whole day I spend in India, not just the remains of one. I think it’s about 3 AM over here. I’m not sure, because my laptop is still on American time.
I should probably start by detailing what an austere experience it was flying to India alone. I flew via AirIndia from O’Hare Airport, then stopped for 30 minutes in Frankfort before boarding the same plane to go to Mumbai, which is where I currently sit as my laptop is drained of its battery. This is actually quite a sticky situation, because while I am now on land and able to recharge, however, a pre-zygotic barrier makes it impossible for my charger to connect to any power outlet in India without proper protection.
But I realize now more than ever that it was not the plane which got me to India as much as it was the work of my passport. My passport went about 3 hours before we had to leave to go to O’Hare. In a fine frenzy, my parents and I tore up our entire house looking for it. And found it where it was usually kept, except underneath the box that Chet’s Wii came in. I am going to sleep, because of my battery.

Day 1 #2 10:20 PM Mumbai, India
Laptop situation figured out. Let me first tell you about my flight, because I said a lot of wishy-washy things in the last update. On the way to O’Hare, Papa gave me his 700th pep talk about how India has no law and how anyone could do anything to me and get away with it, so I must be develop a sense of mistrust. I must also learn to be very cautious and mindful of my possessions. As a result of these many pep talks, I had adopted a fanny pack or “butt pack” with which to strap my belongings around my midsection so that I didn’t have to think too much.
Coming upon the airline check-ins, I saw more Indians that I didn’t know than I think I’ve ever seen in my life, some even being my own age. There were groups of people, very different from one another, some so Indian, I was sure they had lived their whole lives in India, some so Anglicized that I couldn’t tell they were Indian until I saw their interactions with their children. In the long line to get checked in by one of the six tellers, I wondered whether the Indians would know I was Indian or not, whether they would speak in Hindi with me or not.
I had a few different experiences with this. Most people, I think, could tell I had grown up in America because I was by myself and traveling light. My fair skin tone also seems to function as a tip-off. Many people spoke to me in Hindi, to them I usually responded in English. You can usually tell where Indians are from by the language they usually speak in. Those who travel use Hindi and English interchangeably, more when speaking to older Indians, less when speaking to younger Indians. Those who speak more Hindi, speak only in Hindi unless it is necessary to speak otherwise. The American Desis, such as myself, speak in English unless it is absolutely necessary to say some words in Broken Hindi. I naturally add an Indian accent with people I don’t know in order to seem more educated than I am. I was most flattered by an experience where my English linguistics became useful to an old woman on the plane who could not write in English , who handed me her passport and some forms to fill out.
Ah, but I wanted to tell you about the German airport . We had a 30-minute stopover in Frankfurt before we boarded the same plane again. The German airport was designed like a swanky restaurant except not as clean. When I went into the duty-free store, I saw some tobacco products with gigantic labels that said “SMOKING KILLS” in huge text that covered over half of the product. I found the whole thing so funny that I almost took a picture. I couldn’t because one of the store ladies asked if she could help me with anything, so I think she found me suspicious for laughing at cigarettes.
I found myself in momentary confusion as I realized that I didn’t have the currency necessary to buy things, and I didn’t know how many dollars were in a euro. I used my debit card to buy a sandwich and a cappuccino . Note, the cappuccinos there are less sweet, so you have to get sugar by saying Excusez-moi to a couple sexy French guys at the bar counter.
Today being my first real day in India, I think I should tell you what it was like. When I got to Arvind Mamu and Sonu Mami’s apartment, I was so excited. They have a really beautiful house thanks to the talents of my aunt and cousin, Ishita. It is decorated with beautiful paintings and artifacts from all over the world. Arvind Mamu is my mom's brother, in case you were wondering. They have a crazy dog named Ivy, who perpetually tries to make out with me.
My Sonu Mami is so excited to see me and hang out with me. Today she took me to the market, and we went to the Indian McDonalds’ and had a McAloo Tikki, which is a fried potato patty with some kind of chutney in place of a burger. They have paneer wraps and all sorts of amazing things that they should have in America instead of all of the beef which stops Americans from eating creatively.
One thing I must say before I leave. Although India is amazing and very progressive, it lacks in one respect. Traffic is incredibly bad over here. There are no signs, no real speed limits, no regulations made about it. It is survival of the fittest on the roadways. The rickshaws don’t go in straight lines, they instead go where there aren’t other cars or people blocking the way. There is no such thing as following distance over here and the people just walk in the street around the cars wherever. It’s amazing that there are so few accidents, but they come very very close. I shall tell you more later.

Here starts my blog of India

I am now in India for a Journalism internship with my cousin. Here I shall document my exploits.

Aching, Shaking and Breaking Like Humans Do

I'm breathing in, I'm breathing out...
so step inside this funky house.

I suddenly got a flash of who I used to be, I remembered this song called "Like Humans Do" by just David Byrne of the Talking Heads that came for free with my mother's work laptop before it like, exploded. I loved that laptop; it introduced me to music, and it may have even started with that song. Everything was so fresh in those days, before everything was about to change in my life. I had all of these incredibly goals. I was going to become a music aficionado, I was going to be a music critic when I grew up, I was going to wear hip clothes and join a band.
My goals now? A 4.0, getting into a good school and not dying in the process. But back then, it was so important to me to write, to feel, to go to shows and to be myself completely and truly and I don't know what happened but I slowly put a roadblock in front of each of those goals. But somehow I remember again today what a fantastic life that was going to be. I don't think I've really been living for the past couple of years so much as I've been doing and not thinking. Every decision was made to maintain homeostasis with my ought self. I didn't even remember who I wanted to be... until I suddenly heard that song shaking itself out of its hibernation in my head. Somehow that song symbolized so much for me.
This feeling of liberation, this feeling of fun, of sunlight and possibility that I've been lacking for so long. I'm not going to be so subdued anymore... I'm going to live my life the way I want to, not in limbo. I'm not going to let one thing hold me back from this, because I let everything stand in my way. A slightly cynical thought comes to mind when I think about that, "Good things don't come to people who deserve them, but to people who take them."
I'm going to take my life by the reins and grow my hair out long again and wear bright colors and stop complaining about my boobs. I love my boobs, I love myself, I love the way I look, my hobbies and I know that I am good at things... any attitude besides that one just pushes people away. I am not going to need affirmation anymore, because the less I need it, the more it will come, and I am going to love wholeheartedly... if the person I love will let me.
But I don't need to say this, I'm just going to do it. I'm suddenly so excited about the life I'm going to have. And I'm happy, because nothing great happens when I don't have faith in myself. My sister has so much faith in herself and her ability and I want to emulate her so much. I'm not going to worry about my job security or how smart I don't think I am...I'm going to be a journalist if I damn well want to and I'm going to be a doctor if I want to and I can do both if I really really want to, and I can be a music major if I want to. I have so many options; I need to teach myself that it's okay to want to be something that it's hard to be. Because... I'm good enough. Because... I deserve it. Because... everyone is entitled to their mistakes, and thank god I made mine, because now I remember what I've been missing all of this time. I am going to carry around notebooks again, I am going to call up my best friends from middle school, I'm going to go to shows and I'm going to do things for others, because that's what my heart has been missing for so long, and I can't want any longer. I want to diminish the distance between what I am and who I want to be.

Notes To Self

I'm surprised at myself. I have found myself in the midst of an epidemic of personal distress and trauma in the form of the junior year of high school (plagued with SAT scores, ACTs, tests, progress reports and APs) and I have lost myself in it. I've suddenly realized what I have become... I've become a stressed out inconsiderate bratty blotchy blob.
This is not the person I want to be, let alone be friends with. I have gone crazy in my own mind and I'm hoping to win this internal war. I have dreams for myself, lying in the warm grass on a summer afternoon, looking at the blue sky and feeling the calm. I want to buy a digital camera and take really amazing pictures of the sunset or go to a record store and just listen. I want to be who I want to be, and feel how I want to feel, and care about more than looking good on a sheet of paper.
I am a person and not a number, and I sometimes forget that I need to be considerate and that I need to be selfless and that you can't be described as selfless if you're selfless less of the time. I need to get my groove back, basically. It's not that I am a different person as much as I'm not acting like the person that I am.
I am experiencing cognitive dissonance, and strong stress that makes me regress and act like a two year old. But I am not two years old. I am almost a woman and the world is a cold freezing place that I promised to myself I would make warmer. I wonder sometimes how I could've changed so much.
It's easy to get lost in the world of paper and numbers and not remember how it feels to roll down a hill or to look at the cloud formations in the sky. These little wonderful things that we did seem so mythical now. But they're not. It's so easy to bask in a moment, if we can clear our heads for long enough. It's so easy to calm down and listen to the song, if we stop long enough to really hear it.

Sometimes it's hard to be someone

It's really easy to find fault with people, and it can be so easy to not like them no matter how interesting or intelligent you find them.
This is what is known as confirmation bias, a phenomenon in which our impression of something or someone is so strong that we ignore evidence contrary to our beliefs and interpret neutral behavior from them (the object or the person) as our impression suggests.

One time a friend of mine told me that "even people you don't like have something to be proud of." (Like that, Ms. Glaaser? Within the quotations... who knew?) It is apparently, circumstances which cause us to dislike or even like one another. I suppose that could be true. Do I ignore the bad things my friends do? No, but I don't say much either.

Perspective is such a hard thing to turn around sometimes, and we change ourselves based on who we are talking to. Some people do this more than others... I've come to think that I have an opposite extreme. I tend to say what I think regardless of who is listening, except in extreme cases, involving forensics judges or my dad's patients. All of this makes me feel like who we are is not concrete. I am intelligent and hardworking, yes, unless you expect me to do fine handiwork. I am loud and talkative, unless I am writing a poem, or focusing deeply on a concept, or in choir class.

People have a tendency to look at a person and think they know everything. I know that I do. Our mind does this on purpose, we adopt generalizations and prejudices to allow us to differentiate between different stimuli. To help sort out who people are, we put them into concepts of cool nerd, nerd nerd, stoner, stalker, wannabe, pretty boy, girl with a cause, loser without a cause, hockey player... just like a robin is a bird, Robin* is a nerd. The only difference is that the robin is a bird because it has uric acid, and wings to fly, and a 4 chambered heart, and a backbone and Robin... well, she has a book with her all the time and acts quietly in class. At least, that's how Robert sees her. Robert doesn't know that Robin is loud and has a 19-year-old college boyfriend that she grinds with on the weekends at clubs where she uses a fake ID. And how would he know? All he sees is a representation of a nerd. Classifying animals and classifying someone's character appear to be similar sciences, but they are not.

The underlying thought is that we are not just human beings, set in stone, defined once and never again. Most of us know this for ourselves, but we must see it in others as well. I'm a little tired of remembering what a something she was freshman year, and what stupid thing he did in 8th grade. I know that if you had even known me in seventh grade... you would not like me at all. So, 'tis similar for all.
But if this is a fact of life, it's not something that changes with the wave of a wand or a twiddle of a finger.
So, why even write this? No reason too special. I want to let out these observations that have been afloat in my brain for enough time, and perhaps, for whoever is reading this to take a second glance at what they think and how they feel about people. We need a more understanding world... one that gives second chances, respect, maybe a little love? To be paralyzed by others' opinions is an awful fate indeed.


*Not real people.

...re-production

somehow woke up at 4:15 after falling asleep around 7 on the couch. I wasn't going to try to sleep again, so I decided to be superproductive.

So I've succeeded in finally registering for the ACT, thinking about registering for the SAT (Please kill me) and printing off an application for UW-Madison. I figure if I fill one out now, when I finally fill one out next year it will be perfect, (I mean, besides my grades and the lack of recorded community service hours-- I did them, I swear, I just never thought to write anything down and have people sign stuff, and isn't it enough that I helped people and didn't go for the recognition aspect? Because I don't really care if people know that I'm a good person. And colleges know that other people do it just to say they did it, but then they complain about how they HAD to do volunteer work and not other stuff, but like, hello, it's volunteer work, you volunteered for it, and I feel so guilty at youth service because it makes me start thinking about everything in terms of hours instead of in terms of nice things done. Plus, you get hours for like everything. It's not even like actual hours of service. But I digress..) and UW-Madison will be blown away, and I'll somehow make it to the "Maybe" table at Stanford.

I also started to look at New York Times Columnists for the Columnist project in AP, and I'm actually really excited to read all these columns. I think maybe I'll go for Thomas Friedman or Maureen Dowd (i.e. people who discuss political events using wit and sarcasm, as opposed to blatant approval or blatant disapproval), so I imagine it will become quite illuminating.
I don't know how I feel about the Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, they're kind of emo. But I do know how I feel about the Hairspray soundtrack, as it manages to make a pretty boy, like Zac Efron, pretty sexy.

Another productive thing I have been doing; singing. I've been learning the duet of Movement 3 of Five Hebrew Love Songs. Which is pretty amazing, and pretty tough, I think I don't give sopranos enough credit sometimes, because they sometimes get hard parts, at least in the song that I'm learning the soprano part for. But really, the alto parts are pretty challenging too, so it's probably just that the melodies are already pretty hard.
It is based off of a beautiful by Eric Whitacre's wife Hila Plitman, which translated from Hebrew. I'll post them later, as I'm in too productive a mood to not be downloading songs from the rehearsal web site and practicing them.

Soon I will have to do math, and lots of it, I'll see you guys later.

And it's contagious.

I'm learning this song on piano.

Harry Potter and the Death of the Series

all right.
I almost got super emotional.
Because I kind of feel like this book touched my life in millions of ways, including guiding me towards the moral high road (insert story about being a fat arthritic sad 4th grader). I will give you my candid review of the book... yeah.

SPOILERS START HERE.

"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

"To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"Humans have a knack for choosing precisely the things that are worst for them."

You can scoff and moan and say that she spent the whole book unraveling the gigantic knot that was the Harry Potter series, but I have to admit, she prepared us well, similarly to a great teacher that I had for an AP class. As much as this was the last and most brilliant installment of Harry Potter, it was also a triumphant manifesto to the power of love over evil, and the possibility for redemption.

Bit By Bit:

Chapter 1 was boring. Sorry. There was like way too much description. Like in the first book, the first chapter was also boring. It got interesting about the 4th page after they stopped describing the ambiance.

Yeah, who's Yaxley? He was in like, every chapter.

Saying goodbye to the Dursleys was sad for me. I thought it was adorable that Dudley was so sad. I always thought that he might have a good person inside.

Does anyone else think that morphing into your guyfriend Harry Potter would be weird? I mean, doesn't it feel strange for Fleur and Hermione to grow weird male anatomy? Doesn't it change the way you'd ride a broomstick? Also, the Fred and George "HEY WE'RE IDENTICAL" joke was cute.

Poor Hedwig.

So they make Hagrid fall, and trick us into thinking he's dead when the next chapter is called Fallen Warrior, and really Moody's dead. Clever, Jo, real clever. So yeah. About Moody. I wasn't all that sad. ... yeah.

I'm sad that the Weasley twins are no longer. I mean one loses an ear, and the other everything else.

The wedding was sweet, but I was annoyed that Harry was in disguise when he met all of his old friends.

The reappearance of Krum was straight out of a fan fic. Harry was cute when he told Krum that Ginny was taken. She's also like 6 years younger than him. Gross.

Ron's birthday present was weird and Young-Min-like.

Ginny/Harry make out session was hot. ("she was the only real thing in the world") But then Ron had to go ruin it and be like "Don't grope her," and Harry was all "I promise I won't." I wanted more. But there was no more.

Was happy about visit to Grimmauld Place. Offered much-needed closure. Also, Kreacher became nice and made them yummy food. That was cool. All other house elves in this book were also cool. Dobby was the best thing ever. I was overwhelmed with grief when he died... he always spoke in cute third person. "Dobby has come to save Harry Potter!" I think that instead of making Dobby die, JKR should've made Dobby get married.

I kind of liked all the "Albus Dumbledore: Good or You know, Not that Good?" stuff. I think it really humanized him. And plus, in the end, when he talks about his sister and how his brother was the good one, it totally made me cry, especially when he tells Harry that he's a better person than himself. Another way the Harry Potter series convinces us that no matter how bad we've been there is hope for redemption, unless, of course, you're Voldy.

The stuff with the goblin annoyed me so much. He was so slimy and greasy and Ron and Harry totally disrespected him.

You know how they tried to summon all the Horcruxes? Why didn't they try to summon food?

SNAPE IS GOOD. I always KNEW it. I also knew that he was in love with Lily. I mean, duh.

Ron/Hermione wasn't that great. I miss the anger. They should've gotten into a big fight and then ended up making out. But I guess that was okay.
...but they never really did evacuate the House Elves.

Was happy about Harry's speech in the end to Voldemort. Was sweet and made me cry.

I was sad when Ron left and happy when he came back and destroyed the Horcrux.

I think the Ravenclaw diadem thing was weird. I mean, how could CHO have figured that out? But the Grey Lady was neato.

Felt bad for Snape being good but having everyone hate him. He should've moved on with his life... because he spent his whole life brooding over Lily. Aww. :(

The Dumbledore thing was really sweet. Thank god that man had all the answers when Harry was having his fantasy concussion thing.

I was happy about Regulus being a good guy.

Oh and Harry was supposed to die. I wasted all this time crying over him having to die, and then he didn't die. Good for Ginny.I seriously think Rowling was going to make him die, but then realized that if she killed Harry, she'd break the hearts of the whole world and probably get lots of death threats.

Epilogue was weird. I got all confused because everyone was named after everyone else.

I think Harry should've kept Dumbledore's portrait.

Neville and Luna are amazing as well as Grandma Longbottom. I liked how people throughout the series gained more and more importance, like Neville and Ginny and Seamus and Dean.

Potterwatch! was amazing. the codenames were cute.

It kind of sucks about Lupin and Tonks.


"Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living and those who live without love."

You are not unbeautiful.

Feel like you're just a few pounds over where you'd like to be?
Do you have fat thighs?
Is your nose too long, your forehead too high, your skin too pasty?

Never fear.
You're not unbeautiful.

You are not any less beautiful if you are a different shape than someone else.
You are not any less beautiful if you're a different color, gender, or blood type.
You are not less beautiful because you wear tennis shoes instead of ballet flats, if you're a size 10 rather than 4, if you have a pimple or if you have a scar.
Don't let anyone tell you that you are.

If someone else is beautiful, it doesn't mean that you're not.
If because someone else gets attention, it doesn't mean that you won't.
Life is not an endless competition, and everyone has beauty.

And because everyone has beauty... you know that it doesn't matter that much.

Don't let someone tell you that you're less than someone else.
Don't let yourself feel that way either.
Know your worth, and so will the world.

Don't change yourself for anyone else. Don't stay upset when you don't have to.

I adore this woman.
Finally a lady rock star, with grace and talent, who can also write a beautiful song.
We are so underrepresented.

A word to all girls who want bouncy curls

To avoid fluffbunny frizzy lizzies... rinse; lather; but for god's sake, DON'T repeat.

no regrets

Frequently I find myself wishing I could go back and live it again, knowing then what I know now...
but I fear that I could too easily kill myself redoing it.
Yes life is ridden with mistakes, but I wonder where I would be now if I hadn't made them, or if I had made even worse mistakes just trying to avoid those I've made.

There's something beautiful about new beginnings between old friends.

What do you do when you put all your eggs in one basket?

What do you do when you've spread yourself too thin?
Which one are you supposed to do?
Don't put all your eggs in one basket.
Don't focus your energy on too many things.
I've been told many a time, to do neither. I personally am a big fan of the first tidbit of advice, it makes sense, it works.
But what if your basket is so sturdy, that you naturally, over time, put your eggs in it, because you feel you can really trust it...?
And what if you can't see it, but your basket is really being infected with this icky mold stuff and by the time you realize it, it's already broken through the bottom and all your eggs are slowly crashing to the ground?
I have been one to stretch myself too thin. And sometimes, if my basket breaks, everything else falls too.
I put too much faith in people and baskets and all such things.
What if you'll still keep the basket, even if it's broken... what if you want to nurse it back to health?
but what if you can't? what if it's just beyond repair?
Life is not something I could begin to fathom, even if as a child, I truly believed that I could.
Life is not something I could qualitate, no matter how hard I've tried.
Because I've always believed that I could save someone, that I could help them, that I could fix them, that I could...
And I've always believed that if I cared enough...If I knew enough, I could save the world..
But the world has opinions of its own.

Self Help.

I really suck at getting my way. So I've decided...

Screw being nice.

Really. It's true. I want to be manipulative. Manipulative people always get what they want. They think of something, and they go out and get it.
Not because they deserve it, but because they really want it. They are ruthless.

I want to be ruthless.

I'm not kidding. I am so sick of being so nice that everyone feels like they can walk all over me.
I am so sick of being too modest. I am sick of being underestimated.
Because you know what?

i am damn good at what everything i do.

and I'm kind of sick of pretending I don't know it. My sister always told me to not parade my goodness, to let people figure it out for themselves.
But I don't trust other people that much anymore. I am going to shove my awesomeness down other people's throats from now on. And they're going to like it. I'm going to sing loudly when I want to, I am going to answer questions, I am going to act like I'm as smart as I am, and I'm going to stop downplaying my successes by acting like it was easy or acting like I didn't deserve it.

Because I do deserve it. I work damn hard, and I'm proud of it.

I'm incredible, I know it, and I want everyone else to know as well. I've decided.


Why am I so incredible, you ask?

• I am smart... which means a lot of things.
  
• I have much knowledge. I know a little bit about almost everything, I can have not only lazy fun discussion, but dazzingly intellectual banter.
  
• I'm funny and you know it.
• I'm an excellent conversationalist.
• I am an excellent listener.
• I'm a good friend to the point where it's not good for me.
• I can sing in natural tune and natural pitch and I don't falter or sing off-key, ever.
  
• I am kind and always honest.
• I have a good speaking voice. Not only am I very articulate, I have good diction, and I have a pleasant tone, and I can speak loudly when I need to.
  
• I have a good voice, otherwise, for instance, when I am writing. You can hear my voice in your head, can't you? I know what words to say to express my emotions, and I am very eloquent.
  
• I can harmonize like a fiend.
  
• I am friendly, and always willing to talk to anyone.
• I care about people, and their problems. I give very good advice in a very non-condescending way.
  
• I am observant. I see people for what they are, not for what they appear to be.
• I am introspective.
  
• I am a good kisser.
  
• I have expressive eyes and nice skin. Also, I'm curvy in a sometimes good way, and my eyes are a nice color and I always smell good and my skin is soft and my nose is very unintimidating.
  
• I'm good at impersonations (like impressions). They're funny.
  
• I write really good poetry and in short amounts of time. It sounds good and it's meaningful.
  
• And I write good speeches, and okay short stories and meaningful prose and funny IMs and long eloquent emails and touching hand drawn birthday cards.
• I rock at making mixed CDs.
  
• I'm very generous and don't ask much in return.
  
• I don't give up on people.
  
• I have a very powerful singing voice, not only because it is loud, or because it has a really good supported tone, and not even because it has personality, but because there is passion behind the words that I sing. Because everytime I really sing, I really feel it.
  
• I'm not really all that methodical, but I'm good.
  
• I'm impulsive in a good way.
  
• I'm a good debater.
• I'm very emotional, in a strong passionate kind of way.
  
• I can write good songs.
• I can draw pretty well.
• I have nice handwriting.
• I rock English essays.
• I can make people comfortable easily.
• I think a lot. And a lot of the time that's a good thing.
• I am good at speaking impromptu, singing impromptu and generally sounding like I know what I'm talking about.
• I am a good actress.
• I have a sense about music. I know what's right, I know what's wrong, I know if something's in the right key, I know what sounds right.
• I'm really practical too.
  
• I have a sense about people. I can see through past appearances and I have a good eye for knowing what's going on with someone. I know what people want, and I know why people are the way they are.
  
• I have an analytical mind, and I organize ideas well.
  
• I work really well under pressure.
• I dress well. Not like everyone else. Most everything I wear is an artistic expression, because I love color and I love looking good.
  
• My room is pink. :)
• I have a song lyric database in my head.
• I know a lot about music, a lot about music history, albums, bands. Chances are, I've heard of it.
  
• I'm good at concepts.
  
• I'm not afraid to say what I am thinking.
• I care. More than anything, I care, too much.
  
• I love other people, and I love life for what it is.
  
• I love.
  

But above all that, I deserve more than how I let others treat me.

Life's Not Fair.

This well quoted, and definitively true statement never does more than depress me.
I mean, why the hell not?
Life: not fair. School: not fair. Love: not fair. The Justice system: not fair.

Why can't we get what we want?
I usually just shrug and move on.
But somedays, the injustice is just so so prevalent that you just want to break something. The fact that something so harmless looking could bite you in the but
t.
And it's just like... Dammit, world. Give me a break. Tell the truth. Be fair. I'm a good person.
Why does it seem like everyone gets a break, but some people just get whatever they want, like they have more of a right to be happy than anyone else?

Maybe some of us just have higher standards for happiness.
In a just world, personal opinions don't count. In a just world, those with the most passion win over those who are emotionless and the people with the most talent beat out those who suck up the most. In a just world, mothers could keep their children, and Cyrano wouldn't have died before he got to marry the annoying high maintenance lady with the ugly sleeves.
But life's not fair and it's terrifying that we have to live with it.

The fact is, we'll never get the instant gratification of someone taking back what they did because it was so unfair. And no one knows how they're affecting you. We can't hit rewind, and our life doesn't have a voiceover, or some kind of plot twist where the mean cheerleader gets hit by a flying rhino, allowing the dorky, but beautiful heroine to be the lead in the musical.
We just have to live and let live, and remember that we really did deserve it.

"i'm not gonna lie, but.."

I absolutely HATE it when people say that phrase. "I'm not gonna lie, but..." or "Blahblahblah. I'm NOT gonna lie."
How did this get popular? Why is everyone saying it?
Like remember when everyone said, "No offense, but..."? Remember THAT was annoying?
So in this new century, have we switched over to this troublesome petty phrase?

Things that bug me about this phrase:

#1: How it reflects on you

"I'm not gonna lie, but.. "= "Normally, I would lie, but in this very special case, I'm making an exception for you!"
What? You're not going to lie? You're not? Really? Now, you're not? Well, okay. Now that you've told me that you're not lying. I guess... I'll believe you.

#2: You're never saying anything pleasant when you say it
"I'm not gonna lie, but.. you look really fat in that dress."
"I'm not gonna lie, but.. I was on my way to Einsteins this morning, and I saw your mother get eaten by a bear."
"I'm not gonna lie, but... I kicked a developmentally disabled child while they were petting a kitten."
"I'm not gonna lie, but... I just said that stupid phrase again and you want to shoot yourself."
It's almost become a prologue or a foreshadowing to life shattering events.

#3: ...except when it's just used to talk about petty stuff
In which case, it's still annoying as hell, because you were expecting it to be something bad or you were just SO annoyed by it. "I'm not gonna lie, but I fell asleep last night."
Thank you. Thank you for not lying. Thank you for your brutal honesty.

#4: when it's used for emphasis
"Those are amazing shoes, I'm not gonna lie"
If you wanted to emphasize the statement, just slap in a very, or a quite, or a completely, or a très, or a mui, or a really, or even a fucking.
Instead of using this terrible phrase, try using artful adjectives to imagery to emphasize your point.
"Those are fucking amazing shoes!"
"Those shoes are mui amazing."
"Those shoes are très magnifique."
"Those are some fine looking flats you have right there, missy."
"Snappy shoes!"
For the LOVE OF GOD (or whoever), people. BE CREATIVE.

#5: It used to be cool. But IT'S NOT anymore..
When not a lot of people used it, it was cool in an individual cute type of way. But now, that it's everywhere, people are getting closer to becoming the dull grey blobs that affluence creates. I google searched this term and I got 169,000 results. Watch as I google "Those are some fine looking flats you have right there, missy." Not one single result. Now, if I google "Aarushi", I'm one of the only results that comes up. This is because my name is very unique and original. Don't you want to be unique and original?

#6: It's used all the time.
I'll admit, I've said this before. Maybe like, twice. Since then, I have used it well, never.
Because everyone says it.. and therefore, it is so overused that it gets stuck in your head. It's like... any song off of American Idiot.

#7: It would not be cool if you said "going"
or if your mother said it.
or if Mrs. Commins said it.
If you're going to use a phrase that only some people can sound cool saying... then, you're probably not one of them.
Like, I don't say fo' shizzle and pull it off all the time.
I mean, 9 times out of 10 but still.

So please! Don't use it. Or if you use it, say "going". It makes you sound 509485948594x smarter. I'm not gonna lie.

Into this house, we're born. Into this world, we're thrown.

There's a killer on the road. His brain is squirmin' like a toad. Take a holiday. Let your children play. If you give this man a ride, sweet memory will die...There's a killer on the road. Girl you gotta love your man. Take him by the hand. Make him understand. The world on you depends, our life will never end. Girl, you gotta love your man. --Jim Morrison//The Doors

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...

Basically, Chet's amazing.

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.

I said something today that kind of surprised myself.
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.