The Next Best Thing

There comes a time in all of our lives, when we realize that we're living an immensely boring life. That time has come a lot of times in my case. Right now qualifies, too, as that time. I've decided to take my frustration out on my laptop, its keys, and my blog. 

A friend of mine called me a grammar Nazi. It wasn't as amusing as whenever I, myself, call myself that. But I did enjoy being referred to as a dictator of the English language; someone has to keep a strict eye out for bad grammar, the entire planet will collapse if no one will! I also know now that the overuse of the exclamation point signifies that the person overusing the poor punctuation, is bipolar and has no friends.

I most certainly am not one to overuse it. Not anymore.

I've realized that friends are the family we choose. But then you feel like betraying someone. Not your family members, but someone else. I don't know whom, but it definitely feels like betraying someone. The drawback of considering your friends family, is that you start to regret it. I don't see much of my friends, I only get to interact with them at campus or on social media. Which isn't much. I no longer have imaginary friends. But coping with this new regimen of having a life and living, breathing friends isn't fun.

I've found my lost zeal of reading again. It's amazing. I'm currently reading Glass Sword; sequel to the best-selling author of Red Queen, Victoria Aveyard. I plan to read a different genre once I'm done with it.

An amazing idea popped into my Einstein-like brain for a new poem. I can't wait to get started on it. But unfortunately, I have finals coming up. I have to study to achieve an above-three CGPA.

I have reason to believe that today's migraine was my longest and my most worst one yet. It could've been even drastic had I not taken my anti-migraine pills. I have to get these migraines under control.

I am still worried about what the future holds—and what it doesn't. To dwell on the thought of our having absolutely no control whatsoever on what happens is so depressing. It's also unfair. There's an app for almost anything nowadays. If only there was one for glimpsing into the future. Think of the possibilities!

But there isn't. We have to live like we do, gripped by uncertainty. It kills us, it kills me, but I am still alive.

I don't even remember the day I began writing on this blog. Why had I begun in the first place? Got it! To clear my name. Still infamous, here. Still. It's been like four years. Four. Years.

At least I am not suicidal anymore. That's the silver lining.

A cousin of mine got engaged. I am happy for her. I still don't know why people marry. It's just another trend our lot can't seem to shake off. One can do so much without dedicating their life to quarreling with a person they said they'll live happily ever after with. Like, so much. Well, she has a master's degree in biotechnology, and is a genius. Good things happen to good people, I always say.

Does this mean that I'm not a good person?

It doesn't horrify me at all how much French I've forgotten. I started on Duolingo two years ago, I believe. I did some practicing yesterday, but it wasn't enough to compensate for all the time spent not practicing. I guess I'll learn all of it when I'll learn all of it.

There are others that need my devotion, too. I want to learn everything.

The speed with which I'm typing right now brings me great joy. I think blogging is about keeping ourselves happy. Typing with this speed does that for me.

I'm looking forward to downloading Ariana Grande's new album. Also, Meghan Trainor's Thank You and Fifth Harmony's 7/27. Music helps me survive. Whether it's a bad day, or someone has been mean, I just place my headphones where they're supposed to be placed, and then wait it out.

More tomorrow. Hopefully.

I watched the latest episode of Once Upon A Time a little late this week, but was appalled to see what happened. Well, appalled might be too strong a word for what I felt. 'Fleeting horror' seems to describe it perfectly well.

I guess I had guessed a little about what the episode was centralized on, when Ruby recoiled from Dorothy's touch. My lingering doubts were cleared when she kissed Dorothy awake.

OUAT is currently one of the most frequently watched TV shows. Was the introduction of such a practice a wise move? A significant amount of children are known to watch this series, too. What impact will this episode have on them?

In an ideal world, freedom should be in the grasp of all. The team behind this admired television series had exactly that in mind.

While a relationship between two women might horrify many, this is a free world that we live in. Or it must be so, if it isn't. For true peace can only be achieved by distributing freedom to all. In fact, it should be taught to our children, to not judge people no matter what their color and sexual orientation.

When all we hear are the empty promises and lies,
That leave behind broken hearts and shattered lives,
When trust is gone and hope is lost,
What are we fighting for and who really pays the cost.
When you tell us you're sorry but you do it again,
Why do we believe you, why do we keep giving in.
When we finally realize we made a mistake,
It's too late, we've sealed our fate.

—Dana Schwartz

I can't believe I can't make time for my blogging. My curriculum has me surrounded, and I can't break through. No one said anything about university-level education being this energy-draining. I have an exam tomorrow, and I'm here instead. I'm done with seventy percent of what is supposed to be asked tomorrow. The remaining thirty, well, I can't muster up the energy of enduring.
I have plenty, however, to efficiently type a blog post and listen to music—sarcasm implied.

Typing fast is an art, too. I can't believe I'm typing at this new-found speed of light! It's like I've been programmed with what to write, no thought or other cognitive ability is being employed. Well, that would be overstating things. But it's quite thrilling, this rapid movement of my fingers; fascinating.

Our semester is almost over. I've been completing a lot of online courses about journalism, and am even considering a career in the field. Then my mind is pulled back by the gravity that is my current degree program. I am reminded of what truly needs to be done and where my enthusiasm is actually required: computer science and programming.

Whether I'm abandoning the degree program, has almost been decided. I just need the time of a hundred lifetimes to finalize my decision. Sarcasm not at all implied.

While everybody else from my class is busy studying HTML, CSS, and JQuery, I'm here, typing away. Like I said, I'm done with seventy percent of the expected exam. JQuery is the only demon I haven't conquered yet.

An aunt of mine visited us today. Looking at her face reminded me of—well—it reminded me of death. Her weak complexion, wrinkled face, and...sad eyes were a horrible sight. I felt sorry for her, immediately. I suddenly established an already established horror: all of us are destined to die.

As she limped her way to the drawing-room, I began to imagine the ten thousand things that can, might, and will happen to me before I finally leave this planet. Well, technically, you never leave the planet; you just get buried. That's going to happen soon. I need to do whatever I want to before I stop breathing. This is what was revolving violently inside my head, throughout the visit.

Baking, writing, and everything else that I feel like I don't have the time to mention here but want to do, I'm coming for you.

Typing fast, I've come to the conclusion that life is what we make of it. These are the wise words of my high-school English teacher. I wonder how she is now. What I've been doing so far, has had absolutely no change on my damn life. I still burst into a fit of embarrassing, uncontrollable tears when I can't resist the things I resist anymore, I still can't control the personal content of my blog posts, and can't control almost everything that happens to me. I am still hated, laughed at. And I still give a damn about it. A significantly large damn. Sarcasm implied.

I still wonder how all the greats did it. Helen Keller. J.K. Rowling. And all the rest I admire. How did they do it? How? Why can't I?

I read on one of my much-frequented blogs, about how we make unwise decisions in haste, considering nothing but the options that are visible to us only in that moment of conflicting emotions and pessimism. We grab hold of whatever seems possible, and then never let go. It is here that we fall. And we don't even know that we are, until we hit the ground.

By then, it's too late.

Am I falling, too? And don't know it?

Aren't we all?

Whatever happens, I won't stop writing. We all love what we love. I do, too. I've penned yet another poem. It's ending is still left, I'll get it done once I've less things to worry about. Another amazing publisher has refused to entertain me. He can...whatever. I'll find another. Like I said in an old post of mine: You just can't succeed here unless you have access to power, fame, and money. Whatever happens, I won't stop writing.

Typing fast, I think I can accomplish all that I want to. Typing fast, I think I've realized that I've yet again opened up to the prospect of hope. Typing fast, I think I've realized that I've used the words 'typing' and 'fast' a little bit more than necessary.

Sarcasm implied.

Came up with another amazing thought: Keeping a video-journal!

Our short-film assignment has inspired me to the core and I am now going to start making a video-diary, too, along with writing in my journal, the diary in my phone, and recording in my voice-diaries.

I think I shouldn't just stick to writing, making a video is way more fun. I know that now. I might even get myself enrolled in a film-making course, later.

I'll start tomorrow, by recording the scenes of tomorrow's picnic.

I am glad that I've been forced outside of my comfort zone.

Life at campus is impossible without being social. You have to move around, rotate, talk to people; everything that I once refused to do. But now, I don't. I know that it's compulsory, necessary. You can't do without.

It's not that bad, talking to people. It feels nice. You feel like you belong. Once you've got a taste of it, you want more. You eventually start forgetting about your imaginary friends, and start focusing on the living, breathing ones that you've learned to be around with and talk to. It becomes a routine.

People are not as bad as I was used to thinking. All you have to do is give them some time. Make them see the real you. It won't be soon, when they'll accept you for who you are and befriend you, but it will be.

Is this an illusion? This abrupt new outlook? This insanely amazing perspective? Or is this something that was already within, waiting to be unleashed?

I think it's the latter.

The infamous Tahir Shah has released yet another ludicrous music video; that has gained a chaotic, synonymous public response. In his debacle of a video, with an androgynous attire that keeps on changing intermittently in different scenes, Tahir Shah sings about the unfortunate reality of how he is mankind's "angel". There has been much speculation over how ridiculously he has pronounced the word "angel", adding to the video's hilarity.

The internet has burst with people's critiques about the artist. The Indian people, in particular, have sported a rather amusing series of commentary. Below the YouTube video, can be found all sorts of comedy. Going through those comments is a much wonderful experience than enduring the video itself, many believe.

If moderate psychology is employed over the actions of this controversial music icon, interesting theories come forth. It can be seen in Tahir Shah's nonchalance towards his infamy that his ridiculousness is deliberate, intended to gain crowds despite the intensity of their dislike. Being talked about provides him satisfaction, reassurance.

Why else would any individual want to be publicly humiliated and ridiculed?

Whenever he has blessed a TV show with his presence, the discussions that follow contain Tahir's restricted opinions and answers. He doesn't want the masses to decode his ambiguous, ulterior motives—those of attaining fame at the cost of international ridicule.

He has done it again. A significant amount of people know about his music video.

There are some who believe that the background music is digestible, even enjoyable. The music might as well be the only sane aspect of the whole five-minutes-and-more video.

The negative influence escapade number two has had on our music industry, is that foreigners are now meritoriously mauling it.

What disaster will our dear Tahir Shah conjure up next?

Amazing, isn't it?

I was going through Blogger's primary blog skins and templates, when suddenly, enlightenment struck me and imbued sense into me. I clicked open a new tab in Chrome and began browsing for Blogger-compatible templates. I came across many amazing ones. This one felt the most docile to me. The HTML was editable, too. I tried eradicating what I didn't need, but my website designing isn't as good as Durlabh's, the person who edited this template and made it correspond to my wants.

Thank you, Durlabh.

I should've been able to edit the HTML myself. But couldn't. I am neither good at programming, nor in website design in my class. All I know is how to write. And other stupid stuff, stupid people like me know.

Durlabh, everyone, is a paragon of programming and designing websites. He's one of the genii of our class and has a knack for everything tech.

He has a blog of his own. Unfortunately, he's not as nerdy a writer as I.

The need to explore is what I have learned from this endeavor. We must always be in quest for the unknown, something new. Changing your norms, getting out of your comfort zone, trying something you have never, is what it's all about.

I was of the view that one can't have real friends. That the people we learn to call our 'friends', are just people, and nothing more. People that we, by necessity, spend time with.

I was wrong.

There is more to life. Much more than I previously thought.

Much more.

There comes that time in all of our lives when our parents become too demanding and unjust, and all that you've done to impress them in the past—and succeeded, too—is forgotten; because of a more current, meritless argument. Forgotten; just like that. No matter what you do, they'll never be satisfied.

And you can't win the verbal battle.

If you can relate to the carefully written outburst above, considering the guidelines below might be of help.

ONE: Take a hike.

You need to get up, grab your phone and headphones, and leave! Go outside. Visit a park or call your friends, the ones you know can be of help in forgetting about what transpired between you and your parents—whatever it takes to get away from the scene.

TWO: Determining the cause of the argument.

They're your parents, you have to know what caused them to suddenly erupt. On a piece of paper, try listing down the plausible contributors of the arguments that you've had with them. Try creating solutions for the problems you pen down.

THREE: Calming down.

That's right. This should be number one. The first thing that needs to be done is to calm yourself down. You must not let out of your mouth anything that you might regret saying later.

FOUR: Laying low for a while.

Some parents don't focus on remembering how their child disappointed them. They forget, and then put in efforts to break the ice. If your parents are like that, then you need to stay away for a while, to let them cool down. Once they're fine, show up around them deliberately, let them start the conversation you know they want to start with you.

FIVE: One mistake is enough.

You need to make sure that you don't annoy them more. Do all you chores and try studying when you know they'll come to check up on you, just to hasten the process of the argument falling into oblivion.

SIX: Don't hate them.

We can't choose our parents; if you find yourself stuck, if you think you can't get along with them no matter how hard you try, you must not let that get to your head. You must not start hating them. Just calmly ask them for the space you need.

SEVEN: They're not as bad as you think.

In the end, everything works out fine. All you have to do is give time some time.

We all have parent issues. Every problem has a solution. Finding that solution is our job. And it's not that hard, if you try.

We're all fans of now individual singer, Zayn Mailk, and his mesmerizing, masculine voice. After having abandoned One Direction, the elevator with which he ascended to stardom, Zayn Malik developed a stage name of his own: Zayn. There are many other things among the creativity of the twenty-three year old fascination that were disclosed to us all after his enlightenment. His proclivities.

In the music video of his hit single, Pillowtalk, we can see our beloved Zayn, all grown up and having the time of his life with a woman in the regalia of a temptress. The lyrics alone of the song, contain sexually explicit details. If you download the song and play it in your phone's music player, you'll even see that the album art is inappropriate. Zayn, being a Muslim, should abstain from such vulgar boldness.

His stay in One Direction was the only thing keeping him from blooming into the sex-symbol he has now become. The quality of his voice, undoubtedly, is amazing and is revered by many. But talent is not the only thing one needs to become famous in Hollywood and in the American music industry. If you take your clothes off, you just might gather enough audience to make your fame last a month or two. Sometimes, even years.

I would enjoy Zayn Malik more fully clothed and with non-sexual music.

The title is weird. I know. But the poem it belongs to—a poem that I will soon pen—will be ecstatic.

Poetry has become my new best friend. It's all I think about nowadays! Truly. I imbue magic into my work, and when I read it, I feel like I've time traveled into the past, to the very moment I had generated the initial ideas of a poem.

Wind, Dear, Wind is going to be my 18th professional poem.

I've written about this before, and can't stop my frustrated, impatient fingers from doing it again: beginner poets in this country can't thrive.

I'm going to have to be the first, I guess, who does.

I can't; I just can't!

This has never happened to me before. But then again, I have a very misleading memory. This must have happened. Is this Déjà vu? This...feeling? Of doom and despair?

We're supposed to conjure up a video of seven minutes, just like that, within two weeks time. My devotion of "trying something new" is long dead. This academic requirement has all of my teammates flabbergasted! We've read The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Teens in our first semester, which was meant to—I don't know—make better humans out of us? Our video is supposed to encompass any five concepts of the book.

I can't seem to write a story containing the concepts we agree upon.

Stupid Writer's Block!

God, save us!