I hate that chick!

If there is one thing I can't stand, its hypocrisy. There is a certain missy I know who knows nothing but being hypocritical. Its like this: I love flirting with men but for the world I am this innocent-little-girl who can not be not loved. Flirts her way through things. Flirts to get compliments, flirts to get information, flirts to put up a very fake image of herself and flirts with a certain guy and his friend as well. If you want to flirt, be the slut. Don't flirt circuitously. I don't mind sluts but I really have a problem with chicks who would bleed to flirt yet pretend like there is no innocence beyond them.

Argh. Get away. To me, you still are the flirt. The flirt who leaves none. Lady, please flirt. Flirt. Flirt. Flirt. But don't act like you are six and I am teaching you things. And you are NOT cute. You are just dirty. And hollow. Save your mushy talks for a rainy day when it's raining men!

Pshaw!

I don’t know what’s going on but I clearly don’t deserve this. Damn. I need a break from this. I need a goddamn break from the system and the constant biAs one could associate with it. A certain bulky doggie bag of wasted flesh decided to get back. Why? Is it because I wasn't worth it? NO. Or is it because I did something wrong? NO. It is because that silly schmuck doesn’t have the ability to see the difference between two independent events- one being this and the other being the proceedings of an enquiry on the basis of a complaint from me. For heaven sake, just because I argued with you about something your senses couldn’t reach. Just because I pointed out the fact that you fiddled with my right and thereby deprived me of something I was, as a matter of merit and morality, entitled to. And just because you can’t understand the concept of rationality. I just have two words for you- get lost! All the while, I only thought you didn’t know how to pronounce the words genuine and empathy. But boy! You have no clue about what they mean.

Such a loser. Who owns nothing but a Board which is a bag full of lies, filth and incompetence. Watch it, its overflowing. We don’t want to drown in it. Just a dip is icky enough.

Defining Dosa(i) as a Concept.

One of the few things I am really particular about is how my dosa should be made, served and eaten. As in I believe there is a point in making dosas the way they are to be made and respect compliance. The point is it is an independent concept and its conceptually incorrect to withdraw from its original form. At least refrain from calling it dosa. Call it something else- say gosa or posa! I often find this happening in restaurants- usually the bhavans and sagars around. And I take offence to such a departure. Primarily, dosas are not meant to be "sweet"- which means adding jaggery or sugar to the batter is a strict "no". Also, dosa is a thin and crispy digestible form of tiffin rather than a thick leather-like pancake making it difficult to chew or digest. Making it that thick would also contribute to leaving some parts of the dosa uncooked. May be learning how to make uthappam helps in cooking thick pancakes but uthappam certainly isnt this bad when made thick!

Another thing that adds to the taste of dosa is oil- but overdoing it or using smelly-reheated oil would only render the dosa sort of stale. Too much of oil is not good in any case, right? Dosas are conventionally served with sambhar and chutney (ranging from coconut to onion to mint to tomato). So it is important that the accompaniments are good too. Good here would ideally mean undiluted, spicy and proportionate with all necessary ingredients. The picture I have put up above could be quite misleading, you know? Coriander seasoning definitely doesn't help. And also, that triangular shape doesnt beautify it that much that people would crave to eat dosas which are of that shape (or rolled up neatly). Sadly, I feel for the cause. The cause of all mamis who make wonderful dosas in a minute. The cause of those dosas which might have a right to be presented the way they want to be. Certainly. Sigh...It (the thought) gives me an appetance for the thin-n-light crispy dosas which I can endlessly hog on at home with other complements such as curd, molaga podi (chilly powder), mango pickle, thogayal (which is my recent addiction), etc... while I feel full up in my throat with just a few bites of those thick-n-oily dosas outside.

Turn around.

Okay. I thought about it...about the idea I had suggested below. Even though I did not agree with it at any point and still maintain my stand, I guess it was important that I mentioned it. I mentioned how human mind worked. It might be wrong, but how does it matter! I guess it is extremely difficult for me to budge. Let me be. Let me be the "sometimes over-friendly and sometimes over-hostile" person. People are what they are. They are not perfect. Nobody is. I am going to be myself- the imperfect self and help people when they come my way or sometimes go out of the way to do so. If I have to, I will until I feel I am being taken for granted. And also, I will try to be a patient listener- whether its a problem or a pride show. That is the standard I have and will continue to have. So what if some don't like it, I still enjoy being myself.

What are friends for?

I never really understood why we have friends- Just to go out for a coffee? To sit and chat for ours with? To share things with? To expect them to help you out when distressed? Or above all this can you also expect to talk to them about whatever you want without being judged? I guess this is not something you can expect. No matter who your friend is, expect to be judged for every word you say. After all friends are just normal people who hang out with you. And you too must go ahead judge every single act of your friends'. If he calls you a bitch, take offence to it and call him a bastard. Then and there. If he asks you to shut up, don't shut up even if you have to. You ask the person to shut up. Whatever be the circumstance i.e. even if your friend is dying in emotional crisis, you must be bothered about your ego, your self-respect (which was never meant to be hurt) and your life. If your friend says something even slightly rude when in some trouble, you must overlook the problem he is going through and shout at your friend. What is the need to adjust? What is the need to recollect instances when your friend might have borne the brunt of your temper just because you were in some trouble? Especially some instances when you went your way to help and got it back. How does all that matter? You must show it back now. Its a cool thing to do. Run after it. Period.

Apparently, this is how it works. Sadly, I just realized it. A little too late. But yeah, I have learned it now. I might not agree with it but it is something I need to do to be normal. Learned the art of just showing it on the person. That is to say if I have a friend who comes to me with a problem and says something even slightly bitter, rude or sarcastic, I will pounce on the person pretermitting the possibility that he might have done it solely because he was in some discomfort and did not intend to hurt you. This is how a human mind should work. It must take cognizance of every single word your friend utters, store it in and vent it out at the right time. The right time does not mean your friend should be happy and smiling. It is preferable to show it when he is complete hardship. It is so cool, right? Try it and tell me how it felt. I just hope I can at least try to be good at it because I usually suck at handling people. Either I am over-friendly or over-hostile. :)

Sunday, as it went by...

The time is 3 a.m and its not a very happy Monday morning for reasons more than one. I have lectures to attend. Around 150(!) pages to copy mindlessly. My exams are coming up in fifteen days. Oh! Make that ten. Four extremely (and unjustifiably) complicated papers which go by the names of International Law, Taxation Law, Jurisprudence and Intellectual (hardly!) Property Law. And most importantly, I just finished wasting an entire Sunday CRIMINALLY. Someone kill me. Please. The entire thought of it has clogged my mind. How could I be so shameless? Why so lazy? From where have I picked up the art of procrastinating (so smoothly that is)? In which decade am I going to realize the need to work? Who would tolerate this when I am not able to do it myself! Well. There are a million such questions that I can ask myself but where is it heading? Ok. Loosen it. Lets analyze the Sunday to see if some hints peek out!

I woke up at eight with the happy news that mom has reached Madras. It is really comforting to be woken up by one's mother, even if its just by a phone call, after a long long time. When I finished the call, it took me just five seconds to convince myself about the 16 hours ahead of me to toil and as to how I deserve (as a matter of some sort of a right?) to sleep for a few more minutes. Thereby, promptly dozed off! Again my phone screamed! But the time was 9:30 then and that shook me out of the bed! Made coffee (which certainly needs no reminder). Set my bed table to write notes. Opened my laptop (now this is where the tragedy kicks in) and started to check my mail. For about two hours, I did nothing but check mail, orkut, facebook, blog page, etc. The time rushed to twelve when I was dragged out to print out tickets and collect reading materials. Lunch. Returned to the room. Time was two and my eyes automatically shut out. Yes! They protest if made to work beyond two in the afternoon. Afternoon nap in an odd position (basically pillow on the floor, my head hanging out, legs up against the wall and hands cuffed under my neck)! And when I woke up, the time was nearly four. I quickly set them up again and started writing tax notes...nearly ten pages and I took three hours! In order to appreciate this immensely satisfying accomplishment of mine, I decided to play a game. And I did for two hours. That's when dinner was served in the mess and I feasted on some surprisingly nice food. I then started writing notes. Just started. Which means writing a few words. Gtalk and an ebook held me back for nearly six hours, with a few conversations with roommates in the middle.

So precisely I was doing all that till this moment! And now obviously, I am terribly sleepy. I cant believe I spent it this way. Utterly forlorn! I do all this even if my eyes burn and stomach growls in hunger. But academic work? No. Hmm... Sundays are precious. And I have realized its worth only after its departure. Now even if I wait for another Sunday, its not going to be the same. Its not going to be 14th September. Its not going to be eleven days to exams anymore. Its ten now. Okay. That's enough. I know I don't need to be getting so emotional about it but you know what I mean... I am just hopeless! This happens with me every time and I never never learn! Let it be! Lets overwork this week. Or may be to begin with, lets just try to sit down in one place and work...

Blahs!

Rise and shine. Projects again.

Dude! I am in fourth year now! Why on earthy am I still asked to write research papers?! SICK AND TIRED of this humdrum exercise! Its so boring! This is the fortieth paper I am working on in a span of three years and three months. Its beyond me. Not only because of the pressure and fatigue. There is more to it. Its FUTILE. I can assure I haven't learned much from it! I mean its not even funny anymore. Such a mechanical drill. You pick your topic. Stand in the queue and consult the teacher. Sometimes you also have to come for a second one to suck up. Most of what happens in the consultation can never be considered even remotely helpful. Then with those awful thoughts about fear of plagiarism, lack of originality and need for analysis, you drag yourself to the library only to find 10000 others like you there! With much difficulty, you find a few articles here and there, a few pages of books and priceless advice from friends (and rarely a senior's project!). Spend at least 500 bucks (as if!) on photocopy ing the research as you are not allowed to issue more than one book or issue certain other expensive books. Whats more interesting here is now we have just one photocopy machine handled by a useless dork (who hates me as much as I hate him!) and I have to stand a queue for hours together (not to forget carry FAT books) to get a few pages photocopied. As this gets over, the most amazing (oooh ooh oooh!) part comes in. Read them, analyze the inputs, form research questions (wow! how exciting!), arrive at your opinions (which I am usually good at but not when it comes to law!) and suggest effective changes to our legal system (like they are all waiting for me to publish it)! During the process of doing your projects, you have to wait for extensions as well. You wait wait wait and wait to get a two-day extension which is clearly not enough considering the constraints on campus- network failure and when it works, it is slowest wireless network possible, library will be shut when we need it the most, power cuts, etc. With all this you make a somewhat okay project. Mail the softcopy (a bandwagon introduced by teachers one after the other in an attempt to check for plagiarism) to the teacher. Oh you know what? It doesn't end here! We then have a stimulating interactive event called presentation followed by viva in which you will be reminded of how hopeless your existence is. Sigh. After this, the marks range from 19-24/35 for me (after the deduction of marks for late submission). Is this even worth it?!

At this point, I only feel used. Used by this system. And I'll make sure Bar Council of India (and the other intellects responsible for this wretched system) learns how it has killed all my peace! Bah!