Diary Without Pages

Trivia I find Ignored


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Honest Choices

For the last six-ish months, I’ve been learning Arabic. It’s not one of those side projects, or extra credit kind of deal, we’re talking full time, 5 hours a day, 6 days a week. It’s gotten to the point where I’ve even started thinking in Arabic, however clumsily. My professors tell me that’s a milestone. I don’t know, still feels like a shitload I don’t have a clue about.

Since the first time I walked into a school, to the day of graduation, what I studied, what I learned, what I memorized has been predetermined. Anything and everything that I have associated with the word ‘study’ was what I was supposed to study. I learned what was laid out for me. From a syllabus I had no say over. I didn’t hate it, per se, I was good at it. Didn’t really have to struggle much, took it all in stride. Eventually, it did get kind of old. Don’t get me wrong though, I absolutely loved school. And college. But it didn’t even occur to me, until after graduation, that now I had a choice. An actual choice.

I could become an architect, an aeronautical engineer (I became one in a dream I had long time ago, so it sort of stuck in my mind), a doctor (well, not really, I didn’t go to pre-med) or anything in between. So when I did chose, learning a language, I mean, it was my choice, mine. And that more than anything else, made me want to learn, want to speak it more and more fluently, made me want to be so good at it, that I could be happy with myself.

Usually, I don’t really like to talk about myself, I’m more of a people pleaser, so I try to be funny, end up being sarcastic, because I don’t really know how to be funny. But this is an honest-to-goodness diary entry, that I had to write somewhere down, and since I didn’t really want to get a diary just for this, so there.

To all my old, old friends on wordpress, I hate apologizing over and over and over, but every time I write a post, it’s usually been such a long time since the last one that I feel like I have to, like I owe you guys. Even though you probably have forgotten my name by now, I haven’t.

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‘Yellow

I’m here, I’m not here. What is this farce I’ve cooked up I wonder. Nothing out of the ordinary for me, though, I can’t remember the last time I finished something. I mean actually finished something.

Damn…

Either way, I’m back, for the umpteenth time, I might add. Hate to sound like a broken record but has to be said.

Sigh…

So, what’s new, what’s happening here on wordpress. I see the design has changed somewhat, The annoying “Go Premium” is still there on the top, mocking me. I will never ‘go premium’ so to speak, The blue mark on the sleek black design humbles me. The new post tab still has that yummy chocolaty feel to it that I love. Just ready to be sunk into.

I’ve missed this, this tap and click of the keyboard. Nothing beats the satisfaction of a good solid post.

What’s new with me? you ask, why thank you for caring. I’ve been busy, Graduated college, a month ago. Attending a university now, learning arabic, so that’s nice.

Its raining outside, Not one of those measly barely registered ones, the two year olds running around shitless kind of rain. The kind they make special effects out of. I love rain though. Nothing deep or anything just that If you live in the kind of heat I live, you learn to love it.

Oh! and you’ll be seeing some poems I’ve been writing (hopefully). I’m a sucker for rhymes so none of those non rhythmic stuff.

I’m beat.


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It’s a Maybe

So maybe I haven’t been the most devoted writer in the world. Maybe I haven’t been the one good thing to ever happen to the world of blogging. And maybe I haven’t been here since – well – forever. And maybe – just maybe – that’s true. But that doesn’t mean its the end of the world, plenty of people are like that, plenty aren’t. Who’s to say who’s better. Maybe they have a life. Maybe they have better things to do than moon over a keyboard all day and night.

Maybe you’ll object to that, claiming that it doesn’t take much to maintain a blog. Maybe I’ll listen, or maybe I’ll wave away your objections, simply because I can. Maybe I’ll say you don’t know me, you don’t what I’ve been through, you don’t know anything about me! Maybe I’ll throw a tantrum to prove my point, maybe I’ll put a foot through the T.V., bang my head against the wall – and jump off the roof while I’m at it. Or maybe I won’t act like a little bitch. Maybe I’ll listen to what you have to say and think on it. Maybe I’ll turn my life around and become a better man, a better son, a better brother, a better father to the son I may or may not have. And maybe I’ll stop beating the wife I haven’t married. Maybe I’ll listen. Maybe I’ll start a charity for gorillas with one leg, gain worldwide recognition and become the hero I was always meant to be. Who’s is to say, maybe you’re right …

But then again, maybe I just don’t give a shit.

I do. I do.

Give a shit that is. Don’t believe me? I’ll have to set up a cam – or a recording? Your choice …

All else aside, it has been a while, though that’s putting it mildly …

Half an year.

I’ll take a moment to think on that … maybe …

Or an hour.

Or a week.

Or another half an year.

Either way, its a maybe …


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The Happy and The Stupid

The storm subsided. The tornado moved on. Like all things in this world, it has come to an end. Life is beautiful once more …

Now, that the accursed annuals are behind me, the grass is greener, the air sweeter and when I’m not sweating like a pig, the sun almost symbolizes hope. Freedom, sudden and absolute. Its a divine feeling. One you can’t compare.

But …

I’m cheery. I am cheery. No, you do not understand. I am cheery.

All. The. Time. Which is not like me. Oh no, not like me at all. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Because “me” isn’t all that high a standard to begin with.

Although thinking long term, maybe the not-like-me thing I’ve got going right now isn’t all that perfect. I’ll have to stop before I say something so stupid, something so incredibly cheesy, so nauseatingly corny that whole new levels of cheesiness would have to be defined – because that’s the feeling I have.

There. Now wasn’t that like me?


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Not Worried

I have a habit of not worrying when I should be worrying. I worry about that sometimes. Change my worrisome ways – that doesn’t make sense, does it?

Anyway, my exams are coming up, and all I am doing is reading fiction. Watching TV series. And devouring through sandwiches all day long – a surprising habit I’ve grown into.

I watched four seasons of House in the last 20 days. Along with about 10 other movies. This, I gather is not the way to be preparing for exams. So, I’m worried, that I’m not worried about anything anymore.

In the last month, I have promised myself, at least three times; that from tomorrow (Its always tomorrow, never today), I will study if its the last thing I do.

The next day, I would read a chapter halfheartedly, flipping through pages …

This is fifth grade stuff … Easy … Easy … Why am I here? ….

Where did I put Hunger Games again? …

Maybe I’ll arrive at the examination hall, book in hand.

Wait up, just one more page left. I promise I’ll get in in a minute … Just, just shh!!

Then there’s the more probable outcome. I’ll just take my time to sleep off the lost hours. I do that … a lot.

… I feel like drifting off right now.

– alright, that made me yawn.

… I’m sleepy …


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The Two Evils

Persuasion works, has been proved to work, when it is endearing and flattering. Appealing to the better nature of man. When it becomes forceful, it has the opposite effect. So, had they been nice and sweet and buttered me up a bit, I just might have considered being a doctor, if only to find more flaws in that plan. But they weren’t, so I became more and more relentless. Which they should have seen coming. After months and months of badgering they finally gave up trying to get me to be a doctor. Brains wasted, in their own words.

It was only after they gave up on me, that I actually gave it a serious thought. It turns out, decision making is much more objective without undue pressure – obviously.

But no, in the end, the result was the same. There were too much down points to being a doctor. Chief among them being the odor and working hours. Interestingly enough, the life and death choices didn’t bother me all that much. More proof that I’m heartless.

The biggest perk to being a doctor is of course monetary; but I don’t care much for that, not right now at least. What was really desirable though, was the ability to relate to House. Not that it would serve any purpose beside entertainment, but that’s a plus in itself.

On top of everything else, I hate hospitals. The idea of being in a hospital sends shudders down my spine. Its not so much the dying peoples’ company as the ghastly odor that emanates from the place that renders a dung heap redundant. And just the notion of spending the better part of the day in a place like that is nauseating at the very least. And being forced into that is not the most pleasant of experiences.

Out of sheer rebellion, I chose engineering. The exact opposite. It is not the most ideal choice either. As yet, I haven’t decided if I want to build weapons or build targets. But in effect, it’s the lesser of two evils.


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Too Much Time

My head is swimming right now, what with annuals coming up and regular black outs in the district its kinda hard to feel sorry for anyone but myself.

I haven’t got a whole lot of patience right now either, one moment I’m skimming through text books and the next I’m desperately trying to persuade myself that its not summer its spring! But the sweat that I’m currently bathing in begs to differ.

Strange, I never had problems with sweat before. Maybe its a puberty thing – the armpits do smell more manly. Manly is synonyms with he-man. The cartoon, remember? So, if your armpits smell, you’re he-man. God! he man must have been gross.

I’m angry. No, no, that’s not the word. I’m frustrated. The internet was down for two days, turns out a truck driver drove through our phone line. Snapping the fragile thing in two.

I always wondered how you can snap a wire in two, it’s actually metal isn’t it. I thought metals didn’t break, the just sort of – stretch (?)

Imagine a couple of stretched ropes lying in the middle of the road. Little girls wouldn’t have to buy ropes to skips anymore. Wait, do they buy ropes? If it were me, I’d just pick one up from the road. In the name of recycling.