Blocked Again: Story of Dead Brain Cells

"The puddles welcomed the droplets
as they metled into one big ripple.
Winter seemed to send its signal,
I'll be here soon, be ready. " ---ME


The computer lab was my humble abode and the library my refuge. It's yet another Friday, but I am happy to report that this Saturday morning will not see me hungover or with an ugly smelly man next to me. I shall rise early and have yet another constructive day.
Boo! It almost doesn't sound like me. Well, its not me. I have been extremely far behind on my classwork and to top it all I took on a freelance assignment for 'Femina Girl'. (Its a teeny magazine in India for those who are not so well informed *wink*)
Remember I said its a wonder I can still spell at the rate that I drink? I spoke too early. I have been pondering, that too in vain, over my assignments. I have labouriously stared at a blank page for an entire day. I sat in the lab and looked at the page from afternoon till evening! I cannot say that I wasn't distracted by the lesbian trio sitting beside me in the Postgraduate working area. (For the men with runaway imaginations: calm down. It was mostly hugging and smiling.)
Anyway, so the drama queen tried and tried to think of words that make sense and a story that was consistent. Nada! Nul! Zero!!!
So, I decided to just walk home and cook and eat. As if I had not had enough torture, it began to pour from the heavens. Yes, rain! In confirmation with Murphy's Law, I had no umbrella and no raincoat. :)
So a failed writer came home soaking wet!!!

"Hey baby those blues are calling, tossed salads and scrambled eggs...They're calling again..." (Fraiser's song)

Adios amigos..

One Vodka, Two Vodka, Three, Four....Baileys mmm

"Drip, Drip, Drip
The bucket was filling
Up, Up, Up
The level was rising
Blib, Blib, Blib
SPLASH...it's all over" ---ME


I knew I was taking the wrong turn. I knew it was going to end in disaster. But I still did the wrong thing which was disastrous. Dumbness? Stupidity? Insanity? ...I don't know.
This is the third blog I write with my stomach revolting and my head spinning. Yes, drinking I've been again. The twist this time is, I was literally drunk out of my wits. I didn't know which way was home. I have upgraded from being a budding acloholic to a full-blown aclohol addict who kills half her brain everytime she drinks. Which is quite often (It's a wonder I can still spell)
How do I drink so much? ...I don't know..The first vodka went slowly, the second one a little faster..the third was a gulp and then I lost count :). Think I should rename my blog to "Days in the life of a manic depressive acloholic"..doesn't strike a chord, does it? Naah...it won't sell..
Anyway, this morning I woke to beautiful sunshine streaming through my window in my soft warm bed and duvet, I stretched my arms and yawned. AND ALL HELL BROKE LOSE..
I could smell my own stink...bleh!!! The whisky drink, and the vodka drink...and the mmmm Bailey's.
Thank god I didn't have a guy next to me. I am confident my breath would have lulled him into a comfortable coma! And I would spend the rest of my days praying he wakes up with amnesia or a smelling disorder.
Come to think of it, considering my level of drunken-ness, if I was to wake up next to an unknown man, I think I would WISH I WAS IN A COMA! He would probably look like the ugly Welsh bulls or sheep that we have around here. So thank god for small mercies. Drunk and smelly but no ugly smellier man next to me...hehe
So, point made. (About how drunk I was).
My roomies say I passed out on the floor and snored all night.
But then again, how did I end up in my bed??



Rambling to be continued...

Till Kingdom Come

"Memory is a dangerous thing, As long as there is no past, these memories don't last, There is a price for remembering One end, is another beginning." ---ME


All of us have this perfect picture of our lives and how we would like it to be. The decisions we make today are based on a better, brighter, richer, nicer tomorrow. However, the mistakes or failings are a direct result of losing track of that picture of tomorrow. There has been a lot of soul searching, fact finding and inward analysis by the Drama Queen in the past few weeks.
She has realised that her being a drama queen, is in fact, A FACT!!
Big Big achievement on my part. "APPLAUSE PLEASE" Hah! There she is doing it again...Looking for attention.
EEW this is turning into a Bridget Jones diary...I can assure you this is, in no way, an attempt to imitate Ms Jones. Anyway, she never wrote it online for the whole world to see. But then again, she wasn't a drama queen...Hmmm come to think of it, she is a bit of it.
Ok back to the topic. ME.
This is where I confess and make determinations for the future. The much publicized (mostly by me) break-up left me feeling helpless, hopeless and brainless. My heart had taken over my grey cells. Very bad condition. I can only blame myself though, for not keep my head on my shoulders. What I did instead was shoved it up my arse!!!
Today, I decided to run, like a coward. I decided to quit the programme that offers me this luxury of visiting countries and maybe, just maybe (if I worked hard enough) become a good and successful journalist. Why? Because I had become Butthead...(haven't found beavis yet...and thank god for that). It took a blast from the past to whip me into shape.
An old friend, one of my oldest friends, called from home. It amazing what miracles lie in little conversations with someone who has known you for your entire existence.
I finally heard the call of the earth and pulled my head out of my butt and suddenly there was light...haha
So my determination is to work hard on the programme (which I am not good at) and make sure I have that villa by the sea in Portugal and that dream car.
Just remembered Alfred Lord Tennysons The Brooke
"Men will come, and men will go, but I go on forever."

I will survive...this time, is mine.

From the Gates of Notting Hill

"It ran through her veins like blood
it was life, or something like it.
She couldn't remember the last time
she felt alive.
It was new again,
resurrected from the ashes
It was her again." ---ME


The Drama Queen has arrived! This time in London and to no one's surprise as she sits here on a rare sunny day in London, she is massively hungover. Yes, she was out all night but this time it cost her a bit. "This is London town woman," I had heard someone say. Well bollocks! to London town. Its 6 freaking pounds for a drink!!!! And for a budding alcoholic like me, that means going bankrupt if I want to have a good enough buzz.
Anyway my dislike for London began the instant I had a rude man throw a paper pellete on my back because I ignored his lude comments. I mean WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH THIS COUNTRY? You have cows parading in Prada and men who insist on making sleazy remarks at you and expect a reaction!! No reaction is not an option!! What happened to democracy? And freedom of not wanting to talk if you don't want to.
So, after recovering from that first encounter with British men I walked home with my best friend. We decided to have a girl's night out...Oh! what a nightmare that turned out be..
Hoards of men, none worthy of my notice. (Not that I needed to net a man) So from Noting Hill to Glouster Road the three Musketeeresses went in search of worthy gentlemen. I'm sorry to say that it turned out to be a mission impossible.
So I returned drunk as ever and pennyless!!
Blah!

He is no longer mine

"This is where I take the open road.
I give up on love and on the one I love. He has gone too far and I am tired of trying to catch-up.
It doesn't really matter now, because there's nothing to be said.
I remember telling him not to make me wait forever, because I would.
I couldn't find a reason to let go.
I can't find a reason to hold on.
I didn't know that he would make me wait forever.
So I have waited. At night I have woken up crying.
I have pictured myself dying
All I am hoping for,
Someday, he will change his mind
And no I will not spend my life trying to catch-up.
I am moving on but I can't help hoping that he will change his mind.
But, atleast now I know he will never be mine." ----ME

From now on, no more lovesick blogs..I solemnly swear..
adios

Friday's Child

"Yes, they admired her,
maybe even loved her.
They laid out the carpet for her,
opened the bubbly for her.
With grace she smiled, treading carefully.
Her eyes fixed on a distant dream,
her heart frozen, so it seemed.
She was searching for her answer.
The answer that was him" --- ME


I write as my head thumps and my stomach jumps. These are consequences of partying in a town with no moral fibre. What has moral fibre got to do with a hangover you ask?
Picture this: Kate Moss (or any other woman you fancy) in a perfectly fitted very revealing piece of clothing. Now imagine someone 20 times fatter and uglier wearing something like that.
Yep! This is where I live. Where cows dress in Prada knock offs thinking that they will look like mermaids if they did so. Now, coming back to the previous question about what this has to do with my hangover. A night out in this town is a very bad idea. However, if you decide to subject yourself to such torture you need sufficient intoxication so that the rain, the cold and the scantily clad sumo-sized women do not affect your psychological health. I've heard men say, "Well, such clothes leave nothing to imagination." Bullshit! Cow's in skimpy Gucci or Prada or Zara, boost your imagination.
You start by trying to figure out "Why in the world do they dress like that?" then you go on to, "how many people did it take to get them into that?" finally you try to imagine whether their intention is to attract attention. Of course it is! Since they are cows, they never thought that walking on two legs in hot pants would not draw attention but turn them into a 'pay attention sign', one that says "HEAVY DUTY FASHION NIGHTMARE."
In small letters underneath it says ::Injurious to your mental health::
I confess I am a victim of such trauma. I witnessed the run of such cows towards a taxi last night. The trauma was caused at the sight of them clutching their breasts and running to prevent them from popping out of their 3 square centimetre attires.
I will take this traumatic memory to my grave. Oh! How cruel Wales has been to me!!
Anyway, for my part, I don't understand what I was doing there. Not like I was interested in starting my dairy industry. But I did indulge in insanity by wearing a short dress. But I was completely covered in leggings. It seemed quite popular with the bulls, a little too popular for my own good.
I remember going up to the bar to get a drink and a not so respectable bull on heats stood behind me and did the copulation dance in close proximity to my arse. Another trauma. Serves me right for not being a cow and grossly under-dressed.
And I am still not over my ex. Nothing helps, not even the alcohol.
Yes, the drama queen has found something to be upset about again. Sympathies are welcome *wink*

Monkeying Around

"The light touched the curves of his face,
I caught a glimpse of pain.
For a second I saw through his eyes,
I knew my love hadn't died in vain." --- ME

Oops! I did again [how corny!!]..No I didn't play with anyone's heart, I asked for mine to be assaulted and to be run over by heavy duty emotional torture. Don't feel bad for me it was all self-inflicted pain. I decided to go to the Monkey Bar.
Now, The Monkey Bar doesn't have a machine that does it to you. No coins to insert and Voila! One heart-break coming right up. Served piping hot!!..
Wouldn't that be something? I'm sure no one would ever use it. (Grunt)

One if my favourite drinking buddies - who happens to be my now ex-boyfriend - was there, invited by none other than yours truly. Why? Because I am an idiot. Hoping against hope is a skill I have mastered over the years. My parents call it being stubborn. I think that is an incorrect evaluation. I believe in optimism to the extent that 'NO', 'Negative', 'Nee', 'Non' are words that my brain refuses to register. A side-effect of this condition is guaranteed humiliation. There it was for me. On the platter dressed up beautifully. HUMILIATION.
In my hopefulness I slipped into my habit of questioning the 'Nos' and and the 'Nee's only to hear more No No No No No.
So once again I had my nose rubbed in the dirt. As I explained earlier, don't feel bad for me. I brought it on myself.
I have seen it again. I am not 'compatible' to anyone. No one I have been with so far. I don't think I will be.
May be its got to do with my extreme optimism or 'stubbornness' (I still refuse to believe that I am)...
Humiliating adventures to be continued... (see I still haven't learnt)

Seaside Suicide

"I woke to the calling of sea..
The silent waves broke and disappeared.
The shore is faded. The sky was light.
There is no colour
Only black and white." ---ME

Recently I was told to update my blogs regularly. Well, I doubt too many out there are interested in my crummy little life, which seems to have gotten crummier.
Yes, yes more ranting and babbling up ahead. I like to complain. In fact, I create situations in my life that would allow me to complain and sulk. If you have read my previous blogs, then you will know that I have recently moved to Wales.
Over the summer, I have had a wonderful time travelling back to Amsterdam and then going on to Berlin and Prague before setting up shop in Wales. ATTENTION Travel bugs: Prague is a must see!!! And cheap cheap cheap.
My lovely memories of my holiday have been scarred by a nasty break-up with my boyfriend...Well...not that nasty but I have to complain you see.
This is where I actually own up to being wacko woman. I drove the poor guy to insanity with my behaviour. Picture this!! last night I called the man more than 50 times because he hung up on me!!!
So for those singles out there, even thinking of dating me....DON'T
I don't come with warning signs. I am like one of those wonder products that you get so used to (to the extent that you cannot do without them) and they give you cancer after 20 years.
The truth of the matter is I am hopelessly depressed. I stared at the sea for a long time yesterday just wanting to jump in and disappear. Wonder what it would be like..
I can picture myself floating. The water chills my bones. I am trying really hard to drown, the my face can feel the last few bubbles of air escaping from my nose. Then I have a moment of Zen and I realise that I should not be dying but its too late!!! What a tragedy that would be.

Anyway, I have embarrassed myself to the core and I doubt that the man I so hopelessly adore will ever want to talk to me again.
The good thing however is now I know I am mad, I will not get into any relationships henceforth. (Yeah yeah I know everyone says that, but everyone is not cuckoo in the head like me)

I promise to update this blog from now on regularly...

Wiser! Or am I?

"The ice melts in glass, I watch the droplets line the rim.
My sweaty vodka goes down...smooth and lemony. I turn to the world outside. It's passing me by with every sip.
The smoke from my cigarette rises to sting my eyes,
I blink the tears away. No. I'm not crying, there is no sadness.
Only emptiness, as the world passes me by with every sip.
Another sip, and a little more gone.
The red buses go and come, everyone's making their way home.
Another sip, and a little more gone. ----Me"





Twenty four and much more is what I was told to sing this birthday. Oh yes! I am older but I doubt if I am any wiser. The last few months have been the hardest times of my life. For those who don't know me or my life, here's a sneak preview.
\\I have been one of those fortunate Third World kids who have lived a "First World" life. I never had a dearth of anything. I have travelled the world with my parents and as I got older it was useless having them around. Everything I wanted I got. So it is no surprise that I have been used to having my way all the time.\Now back to the future...At present I am pursuing my masters in journalism. (Oh I forgot to mention that I happen to be a journalist by profession....AND A GOOD ONE AT THAT) I have a hefty stipend sponsored by the EU's European Commission. Yes yes I am grateful. No, don't you think for one second that I wouldn't be able to afford it otherwise. Whether I would choose to do it is a different issue.
The last year has been spent in Denmark and Holland as a part of study. Denmark was beautiful but meaningless. I can't seem to remember what I did. The whole six months in Arhus (happens to be the second largest city in Denmark) was spent in a drunken haze. Therefore, the result is memory lapses. But no, it was fun. Drinking with Danes is a pleasure just as long as they are not pimple faced juveniles who want to impress you. Because they end up doing just the opposite.
Amsterdam on the other hand, (yes who the hell in their right minds goes to Amsterdam to study unless its PhD in drug abuse or sexology or something!!!) was the city where I learnt not only about drugs and sex and rock and roll, but also most about myself. It is the city which I liked instantly, it was home at the same time it was a city I came to hate after a while. The tourists got on my nerves, the expressionless Dutch sometimes drove me insane. The constant partying caused financial mishaps. And being the princess that I am, working as a toilet cleaner or menial jobs of that kind were just not acceptable. So in the end I left Amsterdam with no money and a lot of memories, good ones and ones that will haunt me forever.
Anyway, I have come to realise that I have lived being this needy, dependent, dumb arse who is incapable of taking care of my life and being organised.
My next destination is Wales, where I am to spend about a year studying War and Conflict reporting. I know! What you are thinking. It must be a joke. No its not. I am passionate about making a difference. So what if I haven't lifted a finger at home to even drop my clothes in the laundry basket!! I am not Ms. CLueless or straight out of Legally Blonde, I may have been a lazy pampered kid so long, but I'm not dumb and I care about things like development in conflict zones like Congo.
It however has dawned on me that in order to reach my goal of helping in bringing peace to this world (Oh yes I know I sound like a Miss World contestant...Yuck!...No I'm not a beauty contest freak), I need to be self sufficient and less dependent on the world to get things right.
Yeah it sounds simple, but in the context of my life it is a HUGE task.
So...I shall keep the world posted on my endeavors to save the planet...
until then,
adios

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

"The sun had set and left a few rays lingering in the sky.

It looked like a translucent blue fabric. The breeze caressed everything in its way.

I shivered, so did the leaves above me.

All stopped still. I wanted to run.

Run through life like a breeze touching everyone's heart, to leave a memory of me..." --Me

Sometimes forgetting is easier than trying to remember. Letting go works better than holding on. Pain goes away when memories cease to exist. Ironic as it may seem, watching "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" at the most inopportune time of night, drove me to write this blog.

Our present seems to be illuminated by the past. We see everything in the light of what we have known before. So if you were to consciously erase your past, how would you enjoy the present or look forward to the future?

Over the past few weeks, I have been pushed to choose erasing the past than embracing it. I have time and again strategised and deliberated over how can one let go of the memories that make up your past. Especially the painful ones. Obviously no one wants to be rid of the beautiful and happy memories. However, it is the painful memories that seem to bring back more vivid thoughts and feelings than the more joyous ones. The pain came from not just a feeling of rejection or disappointment; it came from the intensity of my feelings. The more I chose to forget the less I began to feel. Less pain, less joy, less rejection, just a constant state of choosing to stay in oblivion. Being numb, but not comfortably.

I just realised that forgetting may kill the pain, but remembering keeps me going. So, as crazy as it may seem, remembering allows me to look at someone and love him even though sometimes he chooses to forget so that he can escape pain. But I remember the pain to remind me of how beautiful he can be.

Looking Up From Rock Bottom

Blink.... ..Blink..... I wake to another day. Wipe off the left over dreams that are still in my eyes. I roll on to the side and curl up. I close my eyes and pretend I'm asleep. This is not the world I want to wake up to. -- Me


The curtains were shut, I knew the sun was out. I could see its rays filtered through the tiny holes of the fabric. They were coming through like glitter dust and scattering over the floor, my bed and me. I stared at them all morning. The kind of morning that lasts all afternoon. I knew that beyond my window was a world where people are going about their lives. Smiling at the sun, feeling its warmth. I couldn't feel the warmth, I didn't want to look out. I couldn't feel the light. I just couldn't feel.
I lay in my bed, thinking of the night before. The night that started this. I had woken up, woken up. I didn't want to open my eyes. Open my eyes to the realisations that had hit me the night before. I couldn't remember if I had woken up or whether I had never slept. Had I been sleeping all my life?

How many of us go through life knowing exactly what is right and what is wrong? I am one of them. I had been sure I knew everything there is to know about how life ought to be. What success should look like, what happiness means, what love feels like.
I have lived with a strong awareness of who I am. I knew me. I was sure of what I would do in every crisis, seemingly big or comparatively small. I was this strong individual with love for freedom rooted in the search for 'The Good Life'. I had values, principles, and standards. Standards set by my belief in the innate good or purity of all people and all things. People are not bad, they just make mistakes. But time and time again I've been taught that I am naive. I live in a world of make-believe. Genuine compassion and the continuous endeavour of trying to see the 'good' in all that is, is nothing but purely idiotic.

The night before was one such night. I lie in bed, teary-eyed. All I see is blurry. Not just my vision, but my thoughts, my beliefs and me. Blurred. Blinking doesn't help. The world is not a different place each time I try to blink it away. It just comes back, clearer than before. I think of the voices that tell me to 'smarten-up', to build the walls around me, to be detached.

All I can say to them is, I know I hurt now, I know I didn't need this. I even know that this will happen again. If I were to construct my walls and secure them with electrical fences, YES, I wouldn't be hurt... I would not feel pain...I would be detached...I cannot be reached by anything or anyone...I will not be touched...
But, if I stay, being my-own-self... I will love, I will hurt, I'll feel pain...I will live. I will give all I can give; I will reach the ones behind the walls. I will show them how their walls only stop them from seeing all that they are worth and more.

Is that so bad? Am I still an idiot?
Tell me something I haven't heard before :)