NeeteniN

Remember Grawp? No? I feel like Grawp.
Anyhoo.
If there had been a proper institute for Occult Studies in the country, I would have enrolled myself. Because-  Beowulf would have been a very interesting subject of study if one was allowed the freedom of interpretation. Don't get me wrong, one is. Only one then runs a high risk of flunking one's semester papers too. If mechanised thinking is what you repeatedly encourage, why make such a fuss about the brain drain? Oh. And haa! haa! Your personal prejudices and  mental taboos make up your society too!
I am turning into a misanthrope if I wasn't one before. I always did suspect I had it in me.
Tell me why. WHY must people talk so much? Make a whole lot of unnecessary noise about things they do not comprehend. Verbal diarrhoea does not make you appear smart. Whatever gave you the idea? No, don't answer that. Star Plus and Sony did. Shit.
If the young cannot be converted the country does not stand a chance. No, wait I said that wrong. If the young can be converted, the country stands a chance. A good one. The demographic dividend is going to fall. So no surprise. We're running out of time.
As this happens, the apathy sets in. The hormones fall aslumber. I know that's not a "real" word. Define "real" word.
Honestly? I am going to delete this blog soon. Or make it not public. Or whatever.
This world does not appreciate subtleties. This battle is far from over.
I am taking this to the streets. And shouting into your ears until you listen.
You have to listen.

The Beginning

This is the end.

Question.

And then she asked, where all that anger went,
Well, it disappeared from the skin ..
Slipped quietly - deep within.

The Horror

I will turn nineteen in a little over a month. So we've already approached the end of our teenage, have we?
This is depressing. So very depressing. Yes, this is the post where I complain about how I absolutely do not like growing up. Its all well. Just the reaffirmation of certain things is a tragedy. Who wants to age and find out they were right about life all along when they were a sulking young teen, right? I don't. I don't like it. You find out how all the cliches you'd been avoiding like a plague? They hunt you down in the end. And attach themselves to you. Like they did to the others. Because, lets beat it, in a population of millions, you're just another disgruntled face. Same old story. And repeat. Repeat.
Perhaps, if you'd met with a different set of experiences. That hadn't been set off by the triggers they had. Because some or the other event had prevented these triggers to actualise. Then, you'd have turned out different. If that boy in the fourth grade class hadn't had that fight with his mother that day, hadn't spoilt her mood to provoke that tiff with his father she'd been putting off for ever resulting in their grisly divorce damaging him enough to act out on the first thing he saw after his drug-addled sister called him up to let him know in her cackly voice - You. You would have been different. Maybe, you'd have even retorted on his face if only you'd told yourself, believed yourself, lied to yourself that you'd have gotten away with it, without that ugly bruise on your face. We are truly the lies we tell ourselves. Its a lie the first time. Its half-truth the second. And then suddenly, it is, the only truth that could be called upon.
Oh. I am a struggling journalism intern now. Fack. The hierarchy that has developed progressively since when I was a kid to now, in the set-up really overthrew me. You're an intern first. If you can score that. For a few months. You're a trainee journalist next. For a few years. If you're lucky. And finally, and many give up mid-way, if you're really that good, and you're well-to-do/engage in other side jobs to sustain yourself, do you become a journalist. Just a journalist. Just the title. And that was and still is the start. Phew.
So not before 25. In any way. To count the minimum. Unless you're a hotshot, then you're "fitter" than us, the rest, to survive.
Shit.

Fuck This Shit

No, really.
I am bored. And tired.
And hypersocial at the moment.
Its like I am trying to talk to as many people as I can. Listen to all their stories.
But there is nothing new to listen to. And as soon as I start paying attention. I get bored again.
I am afraid I might turn into a hermit next. That is how high my mood curve has risen and stayed. For longer than it usually does.
Oh. And also I don't really think I appreciate all the affection coming my way.
All you've got to do to win people over, is lend them an ear.
The sadist too, must be asleep somewhere. Because the sobstories are no fun either.
Wow. I might have just described the beginning to Garden State and Fight Club. No shit.
0_0
Yesss. Its like I've drunk empty an ocean of espresso.
Fuck.This.Shit - I say.






(And lets get high)

15/21

5 other nominations.
Reference to one CR Election.
Seriously, I scare myself sometimes. The extent of my anti-social leanings.
I said anti-social. No, thats not the same as unsocial.
I think the people who do not like me do so with good reason. I just get along with everybody a little too easily. And none of them matter to me. Mostly. Thats a cold-blooded serial killer in the making for you.
Sheesh.
*Woot*
*Woot*

That girl with the sexy hair.

Um.  Hm. 
College is hectic. If only kids weren't lied to so often and conditioned to gradually accept the truth instead.
I love the library. Its filled with murals and sculptures. Dickens, Camus, Sartre and all these gothic novelists. Its my safe place. Its going to see a lot of me in the next few years.
"The Ludes"  deserved to be  more famous.
This time around, somehow, rainy days are different. I do not have time to reflect on the weather. Its a pity, really. I haven't gotten down to any literary work for so long a time. Except that piece for the newspaper. Here, I am supposed to say YAY. But that emotion too, has run its course.
*To Remember - Authoring is not quite the same as Journalism. When I write a story, I am allowed to show-off. When I report, the news is not about me. I am not allowed to overshadow my words. If my diction alienates my reader, I am a failure.
A lot of predictability is passing hands. I wear a lot of kurtis now. The Dark Knight was way better. Tobey Maguire is Spiderman. Garfield did an okay job too.
I need to get me that dog soon.
Oh, its raining now too. And I am going to sleep.
I had much more to say, that I can't seem to remember. Its nothing a li'l grass can't cure.
Did I mention I need an internship? Like hell I do. Get things on track. Walk it off.
Well.
Till then.

The 21st of July in the year the world was destined to end.

Everyday I wake up and struggle anew with the realisation that I am a college student now. And it makes me mad.