severely dissapointed.

Just don't know what to do / I'd give anything to / Be with you

for a minute in time, you make my heart stop. you make me feel like i did when i was ten years old and was supposed to audition for the school choir - all butterflies and dragonflies and all sorts of flies. and rabbits.
if i were a person who'd view it from far-away, which i pretend im doing most of the time, i'd laugh. out loud. ive become this obsessive, crazy, loser person - which im telling you, isn't nice. its not. no matter how much anyone laughs it off.
i want to talk to t, t who's the only one right now who can sort of wade through this dilemma and tell me from a to z, whats what. i wonder if t will laugh it off or worry and bother herself over it and over me.
but such, im told, is the greatness of it all - if i weren't bothered, s tells me - it would be insane. its supposed to bother, to hurt, to drive you absolutely insane and on the verge of a mental breakdown. while im known to be a little ridic most of the time, im ruled by the left-brain where everything is decidedly rational. rationality washnality, s said to me, screw it yaar, what is it that you want? which is an entirely sane and rational question to ask - and i said, i don't know. classic case of dilemma and a case of idontknow.
Akh is back from the hospital. there's such, such guilt surrounding me at the moment, no words can describe it. i have nothing to do with it, but i also know, knowing this won't help.
hmm, also, friends? hahaha whattay joke and a severely disappointed. lol.
i need writing jobs that actually pay (quite unlike the stint at the news, which earned me lolllll nothing)
s right now, in her clinical h-is-pagal tone would say, beta you're hedging away from the whats actually occupying your brain-cell-space at the mo' - she'd be right though, cause you're worrying me much.

It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss. / The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse.

i have way too much going on right now.

im going to have to sort it out and will write about it (because after all i like to display my life for all and sundry to read, right?)

i have also planned to drive, after a major major thinking-it-through, a certain someone absolutely crazy.
and, im sure, its going to be an experience.


kisses to all (though, afridi's kiss kicked everyone's ass)
H

beethoven and moonlight sonatas and conversations that take the breath away.

its very funny when you're constantly talking and you discard stuff that's being said left right and center and its not really funny when you realise, that people who observe you from far off have a very clear idea of what you're trying too hard to hide.
its specially difficult when you realise that everything you were putting into neat squares to put them into corners have now fallen apart. the worst, worst thing that could happen, im telling you, is when you realise the thoughts you chided yourself on having, being voiced by someone else. its difficult, its hard, its tough - its all those words you use when you want to describe your heart being ripped right off from your chest.
im told its part of being this- this close set of people, who're not really close by choice but by circumstances.
t called. an hour ago. does anyone wonder what kind of mental trigger there is that makes your friends from over 14 years ago call and ask you what is wrong? she called and i was all for a minute like - why did you call right now? - i think i've just realised the wonderful wonderful truth, it is just a few who matter. a very close few. m - the savior of my life. m, the person i think everyone thinks im having a secret relationship. lol. its kind of funny the questions im asked usually are what's his family like? im sorry i dont want to marry him or have his babies. m and i are like house and Wilson. we disagree, but through some kind of default we're in a relationship of bffs. like they said in one episode, it is a stupid screwed up friendship. lol.
so. what is this thing that is going on? it has the potential to turn out into a disaster. or maybe, just maybe something bigger than a disaster. im just waiting to see what happens.
baby niece was here from russia for almost three weeks. the baby is a darling. i used to think that people were stupid when they say, ooh what a mushy cutiepie baby and gush over it. i gushed plenty. until one day when there wasn't any electricity and the generator wouldn't work that she started crying. and no amount of walking her from here to timbuktu could put her to sleep. from anyone. so i took her. and she clung to my shoulder and whimpered. and i think my heart just fell on her feet. its a strange kind of trance that one gets in when they have a baby whose wrapped your heart around her chubby little fingers. and the day she clung to me, with her face turned in the crook of my shoulder and she fell asleep when i walked it - it was a strange kind of wonder. i dont know if i can ever explain what happened that day to the fullest. i can't. ever. i just know that wherever this baby is, i want her to be the happiest she is for the rest of her life.
also i took plenty of pictures, so much so that it prompted my mother into saying, that the baby will remember my face as a camera and not an actual face. on their last day here, they get mugged. or well my cousin does. he goes with my 15 year old brother to get some money converted and ends up losing about 3k u$d, to guys with ak47s and TTs. it was kind of surreal because he ended up wearing his shoes in the car - they left amidst whispers of oh my god, this is unreal and tears of not being able to see the baby. i miss the baby. god dammit. the baby was our life for 20 days and now she's gone.
i think im in love - is it supposed to make me feel stupid?

the coldest story ever told

via Achtung Baby blog:

Love, though in a sense it may be admitted to be stronger than death, is by no means so universal and so sure. In fact, love is rare--the love of men, of things, of ideas, the love of perfected skill. For love is the enemy of haste; it takes count of passing days, of men who pass way, of fine art matured slowly in the course of years and doomed in a short time to pass away too, and be no more. Love and regret go and in hand in this world of changes swifter than the shifting of the clouds reflected in the mirror of the sea.
Joseph Conrad