Im back, and I have been tagged..eoww that too double tagged for the same post that has been doing the rounds, and I think being double tagged is a double honor, so thanku diwaker and depps  and I will try to be extra thoughtfully gross in this post!

I anyways dont like things that make me take notes and for this one that is what I had to do , so here I go,

I am thinking about my victims for this tag..muhahaha and that I should run a little extra today. I am also avoiding thinking about my master’s thesis, hence the tag .

I said too many things in my head instead of saying them out loud.

I want to scuba dive, spend entire weeks at the beach with a book. What I dont want is the summer to end.

I wish people did less expecting and more accepting.

I hear the wind in the tree outside my window, whispering together like the old friends they are. I also hear the silence of bieng home alone..ahh bliss

I wonder about the birds and the bees, and why the song yellow lemon tree is in my hitherto peaceful head. I also wonder whether there is any hope of the next generation actually having any earth left, very faint that.

I regret: nothing, not even the anger, the hurt and the goodbyes or the lack of them. . Do my best and do what I want, no space for regrets

I am quite lucid sometimes, though rarely. In one of my more lucid moments I wrote this , which is what you have for reference.

I dance whenever wherever. It defines me and completes me and is  as essential part of me as talking is.

I sing never and there are people assigned to make sure I dont ever do it

I cry in all movies including family dramas and while reading books. I unfortunately have lost the capability to cry in real life. So when I want to cry I usually have to find a good book to go with that good cry.

I am not always tough and flinty, I am sissy and needy and soppily sentimental at times, rarely though (rarer than the the ucid moments)

I make with my hands warli paintings, friendship bands, doodles, I doodle all the time. Someone in school once bet me to not doodle during hindi class, in my textbook for the entire year, sadly I lost in the first hour.

I write very bad research proposals. They dont make sense to me also. I write with inkpens (still). I write without editing, hence my blog is always sloppy (I can tell cyberswami’s shivering at the thought of no edits)

I need love, adoration, adulation, people, machines, space, crowds, mysteries, definitions, men, (Actually mysterious men works too) and someone who can write my master’s thesis proposal. Any takers?

I also need victims and their names are:

The Great Ganesha




enjoy (maniacal laugh)


the skinny on being skinny

not to worry, am not skinny, never will be either, body shape doesnt dictate it. I lost some 30 pounds though. This is a bit hard for me to talk about , just like everything else, but this is also important to me.

What is bugging me now is the changing attitudes. Suddenly all the guys who never looked at me twice are inviting me for parties, I get all those lingering glances and the shy smiles and leers too. I love it, I love it all. Always an attention basker, I’m just soaking this up big time.

ahem..you say..then the bugging part..ohh well its just that they didnt see me before? I havent changed, my personality hasnt changed. I’m still the maniac depressive that I always was, the mood swinger xtreme, or uber moodier (trying to use the “in”words)Didn’t you see me then, shyly standing in one corner or maniacally dancing, you didnt compliment me on my dance skills then did you?

Did you see me when you were telling me all your troubles and wanting and hoping that I will introduce you to my hot friends. Its the old fairy tale story. I have no prince. He never rescued me, I rescued myself.

What this entire process has left behind is a faint resentment for people whose attitudes have changed and a suspicion of newer people in my life. Do they even see me for who I am or is it the body that I am still not used to seeing in my mind’s eye

And course my friends, those who have been there when I wasnt this flirty hot babe with long hair (umm yes that is an exaggeration) and other lesser mortals who have fallen for me even in those times,to you I owe my belief in myself as a “person” and ofcourse the abysmal asses who wanted to sleep with me and yet didnt want to be seen with me. You were special too, because at-least you made me believe in myself, in the SA that I now flaunt, the power that I now wield (none too wisely or well, am afraid).

I have changed inside and outside, the outside for the better healthier me, the inside has a strength of willpower I never believed I possessed, and also a sadness at the loss of innocence, of believing in a prince charming who will see though everything. They are fairy tales. Princes see only blond princesses decked in finery. Are we all really that taken in by the “packaging”? as my dear friend would put it. You will probably say ofcourse not, and I will probably want to believe you, hopeless romantic, maniac depressive that I am.