A face on the street -
What is he thinking about?
The errant son, the nagging wife
The neighbor with the sultry pout?
He passes by-
Does he see me, too?
Or is he only worried if
The divorce will come through?
Chewing gum on his shoe -
Will he know it’s there?
Perhaps he only thinks of
What his mistress is going to wear
A face on the street -
I wonder where he goes?
When he’s weary and tired
Of this life he never chose
Sometimes you start off doing things for other people. They might have their reasons for pushing you into it. Maybe they see something in you that you don’t see yourself. Or maybe you do see it, but don’t think its enough to get you were they want you to be. But you listen anyway, because you really don’t have a choice since you’re being pushed into it.
What happens when that listening leads to a beginning of hope? Because if you fail, do you turn around and say “you pushed me into it”. Or do you accept that somewhere along the way, you began to believe in the whole idea yourself. That somewhere along the way, you quietly realized that you weren’t being pushed into anything anymore, that you actually willingly began to hope?
I believe in roadsigns along the way. On the other hand, I also believe that I know what I am capable of. But what if I’m allowing hope to cloud up what I really know about myself ?
There are people who think with their hearts, and there are people who think with their minds. I have always believed that I belonged to the former, but now that I think about it, there have been several occasions where I’ve gone against what my heart told me to do.
So do I let what I believe about myself make my decision or do I let myself hope ..
Yes completely random, I know. But I just had to get it out of my system!
Mocks are done 
Finals start on the 29th of Feb, and will finish on the 27th of March.
Spent all of yesterday after my last mock with my friends . Went for lunch to Cafe Masala – the buffet is great!
Right now, I’m listening to “Believe” by The Bravery for like the bazillionth time today. And I’m finally going to watch “Om Shanti Om” in a couple of minutes.
It’s a few days respite before I hit the books (again).
Ah why can’t March 27th come sooner!
(04:19:18 PM) me: you are just confused
(04:19:25 PM) me: as to why he’s doing this
(04:19:28 PM) me: and that hurts
(04:19:35 PM) me: because you thought you understood the way he ticks
(04:19:50 PM) me: and besides smart women don’t like 2 year olds
(04:21:51 PM) friend: true true true
(04:21:57 PM) friend: i thought he was different.
(04:22:00 PM) me: ah
(04:22:02 PM) me: that line
(04:22:05 PM) me:
(04:22:18 PM) friend: yes.
The number of times I’ve heard the “I thought he was different” line. And the number of times I have thought it myself. Always said in resigned anguish.Accompanied by a little sigh and a hopeful gaze thats hoping the other person will say “but he is”.
But he never is!
Or is he?
Before you ask: yes, I cried.
Although this may seem a bit random, I loved the weather during my last few days. Selfishly, it suited how I was feeling and it made me feel like everything around me was saying goodbye..
The last three days or so were spent writing long letters to everyone in class, and taking one billion pictures. I also went and visited each of my classrooms in elementary school, and took pictures with most of my old teachers. I went to the Junior Library, where I had spent so much of my time discovering the Little Men books, The Famous Five, The Baby Sitters Club, Sweet Valley Twins, and finally Nancy Drew before I moved to the big library on the other side of the campus. I visited the Western Music Room, and nothing had changed, not even songs the teacher (who taught me) was teaching the class that was in session then!
The playground. I looked at the wooden bridge that I would look at when I was younger and wish that I was taller so I could duck under it ( which in my 6-year-old mind signified that I had “grown up”). I looked at the slide with its lovely green railings, which was always the more preferable way of getting down compared to the “Batman Pole”. I looked at the large rubber tyres, and remembered the game we used to play where one person handled the “controls” (imaginary of course) and another would spin the person in the tyre depending on the “speed” they chose ( slow, medium, fast, extra fast).
And then there was Senior School. Our beloved Cherry Tree had to be unfortunately chopped down because of an infestation of termites, so our usual hangout spot during classes felt bare and open. I walked down the corridor that led from my locker to the classes, and it struck me that I will never be able to stop and chat with people while making my way to class again.
Clearing out my locker, for the last time , was an emotional ordeal. My locker (like my room) was always a perpetual mess, yet I always knew exactly where which book was. While pulling out stuff, I found a number of notes (which had been passed during those put-you-to-sleep lessons) and it hurt to think I would never be able to pass another note during Socio class again..
“Welcome to the real world”, she said to me
Condescendingly
Take a seat
Take your life
Plot it out in black and white
– “No Such Thing” by John Mayer
Brrr it’s cold!
Anyway so I’m looking at my last two days of school . Time seems to be flying quickly, with all of us quietly (ok actually not so quietly) absorbing every possible moment left with each other. Without doubt, these past two years have been my best at this school. I learned that with a great bunch of friends, even the dreariest of times are livened up. My class, consisting of 20 girls and 2 guys.. well we all had our trying times. Heartbreaks galore, but we had each others shoulder’s to cry on and that made everything seem better. A lot of my friends tell me that I’ve changed a lot since I first met them, and it’s true. I was the “non-hugger”, the “non poser for pictures” . Look at recent pictures of me, and you can tell that has definitely changed!
The senti stuff is going to pour out, but I’ll save it for Thursday..
So there I was..
Volunteer at Foss.in/2007 ! Finally !
When the date is set for the taking of pictures for the Year Book and your classmates start bringing their cameras to school to capture every possible moment left …
You know the end is coming.
I lost my phone.
Apologize (Timbaland feat. One Republic) and With Me (Sum 41) are the current favourites.
Sometimes friends who might have faded into oblivion have a way of walking back and picking up not quite where they left off.. and it’s a nice feeling
It is now the last-but-one-month. I can’t bear to think of saying goodbye to that lovely building!
There is something comforting about seeing a pond with goldfish in it.
I spent half an hour arguing with a bunch of friends over the pronunciation of the word ‘stupid’. I like Stu-PID. While some like saying StYUpid.
Also, the dog managed to lock us out last night for about 20 mins.
Don’t ask.