tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36751040278436739742012-02-02T07:55:04.319+05:30The Predator...Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.comBlogger1531100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-39491892039106199142010-03-08T23:13:00.001+05:302010-03-08T23:40:27.542+05:30Hey all...<div>It's been quite a while :) I went away without notice and i come back again without any... my blog has shifted now... it wont be on blogger anymore.. visit the new one at</div><div><br /></div><div>http://themistwolfpass.wordpress.com</div><div><br /></div><div>Though Father P will be around in the blog, i guess the style of writing will change in this one, in consideration of the changes i have gone through in the past months :)</div><div><br /></div><div>Hope to see you guys there.. </div><div><br /></div><div>cya :)</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-3949189203910619914?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-15374321138669706492009-11-19T23:10:00.001+05:302009-11-19T23:11:40.185+05:30My blog turned 2 yesterday!!!!<div><br /></div><div>HAPPY BIRTHDAY BLOGGIEEE (sad name... sorry dear)</div><div><br /></div><div>May you hear my rants for many more years to come</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1537432113866970649?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-89537634838891403142009-11-10T20:34:00.001+05:302009-11-10T20:35:45.531+05:30Hey guys,<div><br /></div><div>I've started a new blog for poetry alone..</div><div><br /></div><div>in tumblr</div><div><br /></div><div>Please visit and follow it too if you like it :)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://thewolfscriptures.tumblr.com">http://thewolfscriptures.tumblr.com</a></div><div><br /></div><div>Oh btw, you can't comment there so if u have anything to say keep this window open and comment here :)</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks</div><div><br /></div><div>Will upload my older ones there soon...</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-8953763483889140314?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-51417917215906017172009-11-07T12:35:00.005+05:302009-11-07T13:00:20.387+05:306:45 - Alarm rings. Damn its dark! Must have set the alarm to 3 instead of 6. Shut up you stupid thing!! There! Now SHUT UP! Where was i? Oh yes.... as i was saying....z..z..z.z.z.z.<div><br /></div><div>7:45 - What? Where's the damn phone? Why didn't it ring? WHAATTT!!?!?!??! ITS FREAKING 7 45?!?!??!?!?!?! YOU STUPID ALARM WHY DIDN'T YOU RING. Oops.. i switched it off :P Ok i have 45 minutes to get ready and reach college, which is ironically 45 minutes away.. Ahem...</div><div><br /></div><div>8:00 - z.z..z...z...z....Z..Z..Z.. .AHHHH! I hate you sunlight!?!?! What? its 8 am!?!?!??! Omg!!!! </div><div><br /></div><div>8:05 - Ouch!! Stupid pants.. always tripping me... i swear im going to cut you guys to size... and have nothing nice to wear for the rest of my life.... hmmm</div><div><br /></div><div>8: 08 - Where's my coffeee!??!?! Why the hell is it in the fridge? I know i said i like cold coffee but this is ridiculous!! Dad!!!! What? You thought i was taking off? Can i? No? ok :(</div><div><br /></div><div>8:12 - I will pay only Rs. 2o to the station? Its raining? Yeah i know its raining!! I'm not blind!! What? rains use up ur petrol? HOW THE HELL IS THAT POSSIBLE?</div><div><br /></div><div>8:15 - Hey whre's my change? I gave u a 50. You don't have change? Well whoever said u could keep the 50... i would so love to take your 50.. gimme back the money you moron!! Yeah, i have change! Why didn't i give it earlier? Because, you moron, u nodded your head like a buffalo when i asked u if u had change..</div><div><br /></div><div>8: 17 - Bleddy train station leaks. Omg! I think i just took an another shower!! Ugh!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>8: 20 - *hums* <i>Train train, come again, i missed the last one wading in ankle deep water in vain.</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i>8: 23 - Ahh! </i>Train... sweet mother of god!! Look at the damn crowd... hold on... HOLD ON!!!!! Excuse me miss, could you please move yourself from the damn entrance so that i can get in? Thank you...</div><div><br /></div><div>8:30 - There... now all i have to do is go on that bridge, down that muddy lane that has flooded, turn right into another lake, wade through it and i'm done! Phew! C'mon girl..</div><div><br /></div><div>8 : 35 - YOu!! cow!! Move!! No no, not mooooooo, MOOOVVVVEEEEEEE! Where the hell did you learn to speak?</div><div><br /></div><div>8:38 - Stupid boy on the bike, can't you gimme a lift? Who am i ? Your mother-in-law in ur last birth.. kick it sonny!</div><div><br /></div><div>8:45 - Don't close the gate! I'm coming! I'm coming! I'm a student!!!! What?? i'm just soaked to the bone and my legs look like they've never seen daylight. Otherwise i'm very fine.. Now quit yapping and let me in..</div><div><br /></div><div>8:50 - I hate life. I hate this place. I hate everyone. I hate you. I hate me. I hate you rain *shows fist at rain for dramatic effect* Bleddy guy now tells me college is cancelled due to rain.... </div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-5141791721590601717?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-53376577324686749362009-11-01T20:20:00.004+05:302009-11-01T20:40:39.390+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3016/2973174942_bd28c78a9c.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 333px; height: 500px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3016/2973174942_bd28c78a9c.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>My 9-year-old niece wanted me to write a poem for her class on 'A child's dream'. Writing the poem was not the tough part but making it sound like a 9-yr-olds was. I couldn't use fancy poetry words :P Had to use normal english (whatever happened to poetic license? :( ) Anyway... this is what i came up with in 10 mins because that was all the time she would gimme!! Tell me if it sounds even remotely like a kid wrote it..</div><div> :)</div><div><br /></div><div>I look up to the sky,</div><div>How it would be to fly.</div><div>I run along a narrow stream,</div><div>But these are just mere dreams. </div><div><br /></div><div>I see a girl in a pretty red dress,</div><div>My own dirty shirt, full of dirt, never pressed.</div><div>Night and day i work and make toys,</div><div>But i could never play with one, though i am just a 6-year-old-boy. </div><div><br /></div><div>Someday i wish to go to school,</div><div>Where books will be my only tools.</div><div>A smile will for the first time come on my face,</div><div>The pain will vanish without a trace.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-5337657732468674936?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-20787818505348735662009-10-30T00:00:00.004+05:302009-10-30T01:01:51.544+05:30<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SunsZePBn6I/AAAAAAAAAa8/M-Mx_CNjJXE/s1600-h/CH_AA_0012-copy.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SunsZePBn6I/AAAAAAAAAa8/M-Mx_CNjJXE/s400/CH_AA_0012-copy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398105550737219490" /></a><br /><div><br /></div>I was gently woken up by a father who fed me a glass of milk in my sleep everyday because i wouldn't drink it if i was awake...<div><br /></div><div>I was put back to sleep but sometimes i would just snuggle up to him after my lactose dose and he would patiently hold me till i woke up again... i could never find a better huggsie...</div><div><br /></div><div>I found myself being lifted to the bathroom where a brush would be put into my mouth and as i swaggered like a drunkard, he would kneel behind me so that i could lean on him and brush...</div><div><br /></div><div>Waiting impatiently as he brought my school uniform, i would lift my hands so that he could dress me up. He would then tie my belt, slip my tiny feet through socks and put my shoes on.. all the while my feet would be dangling furiously to some unknown tune, trying to get away from his hands...</div><div><br /></div><div>My tiffen-box would be ready by the time i got to the table and my books packed into my bag according to the day's timetable. All i had to was slip my bag on and take the lunch basket. It would be carefully laid with a miniature lunch carrier, a towel, a floor mat, a water bottle and a spoon. On the days he missed the spoon or the mat i would get irritated.. couldn't he get something so simple right?</div><div><br /></div><div>He would get on his bike and lift me up on the front. I loved riding in the front of the bike. it made me feel like i was driving and i would place my hands over his on the handle bar and make sounds as we made our way to school...</div><div><br /></div><div>Once there, he would put me down and carry my bag and lunch basket till the entrance and then help me put them on.. As i walked in, i would turn everyday and find him standing there till i disappeared into the room. On days he had to leave urgently, i would know and not look back, afraid that he wouldn't be there...</div><div><br /></div><div>After class, i would walk out to find him there already, standing away from everyone else, looking for his child.. I would sometimes just stand away and make him wait a long time to see if he'd leave... sometimes i'd stand behind him but never tell him i was there just to see what he'd do in a while... but he'd just wait... until i felt bad and joined him again...</div><div><br /></div><div>After i reached home he would take my books out and see what i'd done... There would remarks about my bad handwriting, marks from a class test, some stars or some comments, exercises and homework. </div><div><br /></div><div>As i ate lunch, he would decide what needed to be done for the day and draw up a working schedule... </div><div><br /></div><div>I would spend afternoons learning to cycle.</div><div><br /></div><div>He would come down and help me. Sometimes run behind me, carry me home when i hurt myself, getting me extra wheels for support, teaching me to ride without them, teaching me how to fly....</div><div><br /></div><div>The evenings i spent finishing homework, studying for tests and writing on cursive handwriting notebooks (which i hate doing till date) .. he would sit next to me the whole time helping.. his hand over mine, guiding me through the lines of the alphabets.. i wouldn't realize it was 6 30 p.m until he would get up to leave.. and then would end my study hour. </div><div><br /></div><div>When he left for work at 7, i was allowed to play again... and slowly.. the day would close..</div><div><br /></div><div>Dinner would be given as i watched tv, but only on rare cases would he feed me... mostly he'd just walk around like an over-protective mother seeing if i ate the vegetables, if i had enough rice, if the food was ok, if i was full, if i needed anything else... (he still does that :) )</div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div>I didn't have a worry in the world... someone took care of it all :)</div><div><br /></div><div>As 10 pm dawned, i was ushered into the bed room where i changed into night clothes that he already already taken out and laid on the bed for me. </div><div><br /></div><div>I was scared of the dark. I wouldn't sleep alone...</div><div><br /></div><div>He would lie down next to me on the tiny bed and watch me bury myself in his comfortably warm chest and drift away...</div><div><br /></div><div>On some days i woke up n saw him asleep right next to me... uncomfortable in a bed too small for him.. nevertheless there because he didn't want to disturb me...</div><div><br /></div><div><i>When i was just a 5-year-old...</i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-2078781850534873566?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-15536204681575573472009-10-21T19:09:00.003+05:302009-10-30T01:02:28.270+05:30I wake up every morning to see,<div><br /></div><div>He still does not smile at me.</div><div><br /></div><div>What did i do to anger him so?</div><div><br /></div><div>I dearly wished i could know.</div><div><br /></div><div>I remembered his smiles from long ago,</div><div><br /></div><div>Lifted me up when i was low.</div><div><br /></div><div>So I went unto him and turned his lock,</div><div><br /></div><div>He hadn't been wound in a long while; my clock. </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1553620468157557347?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-67442217749462581052009-10-18T20:10:00.004+05:302009-10-18T20:43:13.538+05:30Sometimes you think you are fine... <div><br /></div><div>The world around you is awesome... <div><br /></div><div>You are on a high...</div><div><br /></div><div>Things are working out... exactly the way you want them to...</div><div><br /></div><div>You learn to forget the things you must...</div><div><br /></div><div>You learn... at last... to move on....</div><div><br /></div><div>You learn that sometimes you cannot look back without feeling unbelievable pain...</div><div><br /></div><div>You learn to take everyday as your last day...</div><div><br /></div><div>You finally learn to be free...</div><div><br /></div><div>You think you are invincible...</div><div><br /></div><div>You grow to love yourself for the very first time after a lifetime of self loathing...</div><div><br /></div><div>You learn to prioritize life and become responsible...</div><div><br /></div><div>People call it a 'transformation'...</div><div><br /></div><div>You finally learn to voice out and protect yourself...</div><div><br /></div><div>You think you are finally 'mature'...</div><div><br /></div><div>You think your past will never put you down again...</div><div><br /></div><div>Past? What past? There is only a future... </div><div><br /></div><div>Even the present is only an immediate past or future...</div><div><br /></div><div>You learn to love the little things...</div><div><br /></div><div>You smile for no reason at all...</div><div><br /></div><div>You wake up in the morning and think its beautiful...</div><div><br /></div><div>You are no more afraid of the darkness...</div><div><br /></div><div>You embrace it...</div><div><br /></div><div>You can handle anything.... anyone....</div><div><br /></div><div>You don't need anyone...</div><div><br /></div><div>You are your life...</div><div><br /></div><div>No one else can take that from you...</div><div><br /></div><div>You finally learn to discover yourself and settle in...</div><div><br /></div><div>You look at old pictures and wonder who it was looking back at you...</div><div><br /></div><div>It definitely wasn't you...</div><div><br /></div><div>You feel like a bird...</div><div><br /></div><div>Everything seems so beautiful...</div><div><br /></div><div>Everything seems so perfect....</div><div><br /></div><div>And then there are.................................</div><div><br /></div><div>Those who remind you of the past... again and again.... just to hurt you</div><div><br /></div><div>Loved ones who sometimes never understand... even when they know they should...</div><div><br /></div><div>Years spent trying to be someone you are not to keep people happy...</div><div><br /></div><div>Those songs... that haunt... like the ghost of unfulfilled love...</div><div><br /></div><div>Those places.... that you never want to go to again... but stand tall like skyscrapers in front of you all the time....</div><div><br /></div><div>Those people you hate but can never let go of...</div><div><br /></div><div>The anger that surges within when you are judged for being liberal...</div><div><br /></div><div>Those memories that hang on stronger when you try to forget...</div><div><br /></div><div>Time... that merely numbs but doesn't heal...</div><div><br /></div><div>Those days when you cant sleep and stare at the wall for hours for no reason at all...</div><div><br /></div><div>Those moments you feel like ending it all...</div><div><br /></div><div>Pain that can't be described... </div><div><br /></div><div>The millions of silent tears.... </div><div><br /></div><div>Regret... that eats you constantly from inside...</div><div><br /></div><div>Those times when you want to talk to someone but there's no one around...</div><div><br /></div><div>Those months spent on fruitless pursuit..</div><div><br /></div><div>The many years wasted...</div><div><br /></div><div>Realization...</div><div><br /></div><div>Life.....</div><div><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6744221774946258105?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-78756545760649053972009-10-03T10:43:00.002+05:302009-10-03T10:47:06.953+05:30Last evening at a bookstore, Father P suggests books to buy:<div><br /></div><div>FP: Why don't you buy Gerald Durell? I used to love reading his books as a kid.</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: What does he write on?</div><div><br /></div><div>FP: He catches and preserves exotic animals... he writes on how he catches them</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: Interesting *picks up a book* 'My family and other and other animals'.. *Hints* I wonder who he was writing about.</div><div><br /></div><div>FP: His adolescent daughter probably.</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: *feigns anger* How rude!</div><div><br /></div><div>FP: You're right! Sorry. If it was about his daughter he'd have named it 'My daughter. There's no other animal like her.'</div><div><br /></div><div>Me: -_-</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-7875654576064905397?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-24656559301815060182009-10-02T21:45:00.001+05:302009-10-02T21:47:36.639+05:30Well... that settles it...<div><br /></div><div>I'm not going to change my template again...</div><div><br /></div><div>Noserieee..</div><div><br /></div><div>No matter how tempting it is...</div><div><br /></div><div>I will stick to this... no matter what....</div><div><br /></div><div>Come what may...</div><div><br /></div><div>I will be the epitome and embodiment of self control....</div><div><br /></div><div>OoOooooo.... How does this one look? </div><div><br /></div><div>Oops... *blushes* Changed again...</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-2465655930181506018?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-12628294141415683972009-09-27T22:23:00.008+05:302009-09-27T23:37:41.829+05:307 a.m - Alarm rings... ignore alarm... sleep... ZZZZzzzzzz! Ben Affleck comes in dream.. tell him.. "You are 5 years late. I am sorry but Ashton Kutcher is my dream boy now".<div><br /></div><div>7:06 a.m - Mutters as one is kicked out of bed (literally) by Father P</div><div><br /></div><div>7:07 a.m - While Father P brushes, unknown to him, sneak back into bed again.... </div><div><br /></div><div>7: 10 a.m - Is drenched as inhuman father pours cold water on head. Decide not to take bath.</div><div><br /></div><div>7: 20 a.m - Wake up to realize one is in bathroom holding toothbrush to mouth and fast asleep. Paste is all over pyjamas. Sigh!</div><div><br /></div><div>7:30 a.m - Trudge to dining table to find one's dose of morning caffeine missing! Rushes into kitchen to find Father P saying "You were the one who said you didn't want coffee from today". Vaguely remember saying it in a fit of dieting insanity. Why doesn't he remember other things? Like the puppy i asked him to get me 13 yrs ago?</div><div><br /></div><div>7:34 - Stop writing a.m due to laziness. Try to gulp down green tea. Must remember to give this to worst enemy... and dad!</div><div><br /></div><div>7:45 - given Rs. 100 and asked to go buy milk and vegetables. Mouth opens to protest. Is shut by inhuman eyes of dad. Mental note to make that 4 cups of green tea for him... jasmine flavoured!</div><div><br /></div><div>7:50 - Wear horrid rain jacket over night clothes and dad's slippers (to slush in the mud) ... climbing down stairs... and now face to face with hot neighbour who has become even hotter in the months gone without seeing him... </div><div><br /></div><div>7:51 - Want to faint.</div><div><br /></div><div>7:52 - Damn healthy green tea!</div><div><br /></div><div>7:53 - Try to walk past with inner poise (watched bridget jones' previous night. Feels influenced)</div><div><br /></div><div>7:54 - Step in mud, look around but neighbor not even glancing at display of public humiliation... inner poise is kaput.</div><div><br /></div><div>7:55 - Buy vegetables. Half asleep and calculate wrong and pick a fight with the shop fellow. He takes pity and lets one go without scratch. </div><div><br /></div><div>7:57 - proud of returning home without a scratch.</div><div><br /></div><div>7 :57: 30 - Cute neighbour is still there. Orange t shirt (observe that it looks good on him) and shorts. </div><div><br /></div><div>7:58 - Take phone out of pocket. Lucky! Some stupid fellow has called at 7 in the morning. Decide to call him back immediately. Might be some emergency. What if he is sick and drops dead by the time i reach the first floor?</div><div><br /></div><div>7:59 - 'Redialling numer' Stupid fellow who called is busy on another call. Hmmpf!</div><div><br /></div><div>8:00 - Neighbour still doesn't acknowledge my existence. Damn all cute guys!</div><div><br /></div><div>8:01 - Now does not have an excuse to stay down. Decide to call Father P</div><div><br /></div><div>8:02 - "Hello?" "Pa do you need anything else? Don't make me go again after i come up" "Nothing. I have other work for you. Come up" "Sure you don't need anything? Nothing?" "Nothing"</div><div><br /></div><div>8:03 - Daddy's birthday gift is jasmine green tea and cluttered room (his worst nightmare)</div><div><br /></div><div>8:04 - Enter home, dump stuff on the table and pout at dad.</div><div><br /></div><div>8:05 - "I forgot my phone in the car. Go get it" Grab key and rush down happy to realize that one has to pass by hot guy's house to get to car. Walk... walk.... walk....</div><div><br /></div><div>8:06 - Jaw is open wide</div><div><br /></div><div>8:06:10 - Cute guy leaning against car.</div><div><br /></div><div>8:07 - Inner poise. Inner poise. Reach car. Fiddle with keys.</div><div><br /></div><div>8:08 - Cute guy walks away, without looking.</div><div><br /></div><div>8:09 - Stamp ground in frustration</div><div><br /></div><div>8:10 - Uh oh! Cute guy sees ground stamping. Gives disgusted stare. Think of something smart to cover it up! "Damn apple". APPLE!?!?!??! OH MY!</div><div><br /></div><div>8:11 - Wish to become invisible</div><div><br /></div><div>8:12 - Commando skills improve after sneaking past cute guy's house, hopefully unnoticed. Going to consider applying for NSG. Or new business venture... something like 'Power Combat - Ability to sneak away during embarrassing situations'</div><div><br /></div><div>8: 13 - Destination bed reached... Realize that cute guy not as good as Ashton Kutcher...</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1262829414141568397?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-53533364935548674262009-09-14T22:35:00.002+05:302009-09-14T22:42:21.495+05:30Here are the answers to my intimate questions (ones that i need answers to desperately) at fortune teller genius (facebook) and the magic ball.. both seem to have decided that i must never be happy :|<div><br /></div><div><b>Fortune teller</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Q: Will i stop biting my nails?</div><div>A: Yes of course</div><div><br />Q: Will my cute neighbour like me? like EVER?</div><div>A: Hmmm.. nope..</div><div><br /></div><div>Q: Are you mad?</div><div>A: No</div><div><br /></div><div>Q: Will i get first rank in college?</div><div>A: Of course not!</div><div><br /></div><div>Q: Will i dominate the world?</div><div>A: Yes, definitely (this one i liked! :P )</div><div><br /></div><div>Q: You sure that guy won't like me?</div><div>A: Don't waste your time on it ( :|)</div><div><br /></div><div>Magic 8 ball:</div><div><br /></div><div>Q: Will i get good marks in this assignment i just slogged on?</div><div>A: Outcasts say 25% (:( )</div><div><br /></div><div>Q: Will i marry a hot guy?</div><div>A: My sources say no (Damn it!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Q: Should i believe you?</div><div>A: I think so</div><div><br /></div><div>Q: Are you sure?</div><div>A: All sources point to yes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Q: Do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend?</div><div>A: Yes (!!?!??!?!? :O )</div><div><br /></div><div>There.. even a magic 8 ball has a partner :|</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-5353336493554867426?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-5357666787884796452009-09-13T23:45:00.002+05:302009-09-13T23:48:04.689+05:30Father P's one word reviews without even watching the movie!<div><br /></div><div>Father P comes this evening while my cousin discusses the sad movie that is Kandhasaamy with me. He asks "how's the movie?".. my cousin goes "horrible". </div><div><br /></div><div>Father P goes "It must've been named 'Kandhal' ('in pieces' in Tamil) saamy'</div><div><br /></div><div>Cousin is awe-struck...</div><div><br /></div><div>---------------------------------------------the end-----------------------------------------------</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-535766678788479645?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-12132161965722737642009-08-29T16:05:00.002+05:302009-08-29T16:08:58.924+05:30Father P and I this morning just as i was shoving down food in a hurry to catch the train to college.<div><br /></div><div><b>Father P: </b>How's the food, edible?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> Dad, you be the best in the world except when you bug me</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P:</b> When is that?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> 90% of the time</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P: </b>Oh. You be the best daughter in the world even when you bug me.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> *smugly and tad sentily* ha! How often is that?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P: </b>All the time! </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1213216196572273764?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-34706570576788586762009-08-04T22:01:00.002+05:302009-08-04T22:06:06.913+05:30Father P is a practical man. Extremely methodical to the point of being obsessive compulsive and i am the exact opposite. So everyday he tries to tell me to fill water without spilling a lake of water. He walks to me as i fill yesterday and does a hip shake and says "Don't spill water".<div><br /></div><div>Continues to shake hip til he reaches chair. </div><div><br /></div><div>I am speechless. </div><div><br /></div><div>"Why did u just do that?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"For effect. You'll fill prop from tomorrow", he says</div><div><br /></div><div>"How is that an effect? and how would that make me do it properly?" I am genuinely puzzled</div><div><br /></div><div>"Well... you'll never forget that dance. And u'd do it properly coz u never want to see it again"</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-3470657057678858676?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-29728829764167783002009-07-20T22:08:00.002+05:302009-07-20T22:17:32.765+05:30I was tagged by Venky and Iysh.. so i'll do it<div><br /></div><div>:)</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 51, 102); font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px; "><span style="font-weight: bold; ">4 places I've lived in :</span><br /><br />Royapettah, Lloyds Road, Gopalapuram and Royapettah high road (Same road :P)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; ">4 TV shows that I like to watch : </span><br /><br />Friends, Grey's Anatomy, Heroes and Buffy when it aired :(<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; ">4 places that I've been to, on vacation :</span><br /><br />Calcutta, Munnar, Thekkadi and Ooty<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; ">4 Favourite food items : </span><br /><ul style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-left: 7px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Pasta, Curd rice and lime pickle ( :P ), Frankie (vaishuuuu i miss our frankie escapades :() and Tandoori </li></ul><span style="font-weight: bold; ">4 places I would rather be :</span><br /><ul style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-left: 7px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Venice</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Paris</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Egypt</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Rome</li></ul><span style="font-weight: bold; ">4 websites that I visit everyday : </span><br /><ul style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-left: 7px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Facebook</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Twitter</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">My blog</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Hotmail</li></ul><span style="font-weight: bold; ">4 things that I hope to do before I die :</span><br /><ul style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-left: 7px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Visit every country in the world</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">A world cruise</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">My last yr's b'day gift promised by a frnd who still hasn't done it :( (Dam him)</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Publish a travel magazine :P </li></ul><span style="font-weight: bold; ">4 novels I wish I was reading for the first time :</span><br /><ul style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-left: 7px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; "><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">A Thousand Splendid Suns</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Brida</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">Twilight</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; ">My diary :P hahahahaha</li></ul><span style="font-weight: bold; ">4 movies that I can watch over and over again... : </span><br /><ul style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; margin-left: 7px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-weight: bold; "><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; font-weight: normal; ">The Notebook</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; font-weight: normal; ">I now pronounce you chuck and larry</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; font-weight: normal; ">The Hangover</li><li style="list-style-type: none; list-style-position: initial; list-style-image: initial; padding-left: 9px; margin-bottom: 3px; font-weight: normal; ">Transformers</li></ul><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-2972882976416778300?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-34110226970514798422009-07-15T21:05:00.002+05:302009-07-15T21:30:06.434+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://frank.itlab.us/worldtrip_2002/patient_bus.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 350px; height: 259px;" src="http://frank.itlab.us/worldtrip_2002/patient_bus.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><b><i>(In pic: a 21 g.. that is good bus.. very frequent... not a pimple pain :P )</i></b><br /><div><br /></div>What do you do when you have to travel at 7 in the morning everyday to a place that is 40 minutes away and the only bus that can take you there is an elusive old wuss? (Disclaimer: Children, please don't show this post to your parents or you'll be barred from further communication with me :P ). <div><br /></div><div>5C has been a part of my life for the last 3 years. Actually, i ve wanted it to be an integral part of my life (it is the only bleddy bus that goes from mount road to taramani in one stretch) but it has evaded me and shown severel signs of disinterest in my proposal. The damn bus is so elusive, i've decided to call it The Scarlet Pimple (coz calling it Pimpernal would be an insult to the real Percy Blakeney and the bus is a pain.. like a burst pimple! Hence, the reference).</div><div><br /></div><div>The last two days of waiting for the bus have been particularly frustrating and it is soooo evident that the bus hates me! :( </div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Day 1</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div>7 : 15 - Idly (my friend who will hence be called this as she loves idlis and her names rhymes with it) and I were at the bus stop waiting for 5 c</div><div><br /></div><div>7: 20 - Still waiting</div><div><br /></div><div>7: 25 - Still waiting</div><div><br /></div><div>7: 30 - Still waiting (at this point i sit and slightly doze off)</div><div><br /></div><div>7:35 - Running late.. still waiting</div><div><br /></div><div>7:38 - Fed up. Idly and i catch an auto to the MRTS station.</div><div><br /></div><div>7:40 - At the junction, a 5 five minute walk from the bus stop we just ditched, we prepare to turn just as we catch a glimpse of the elusive pimple. We call an emergency rush and ask the auto wallah to 'rush forward in full speed to 5 c's next stop'. </div><div><br /></div><div>7: 45 - We are at the next stop</div><div><br /></div><div>7: 48 - We realise we missed the bus and catch another auto to the train station mumbling curse words.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Day 2</i></b></div><div><b><i><br /></i></b></div><div>7:20 - Idly and i walking towards bus stop and spot 5 c just stopping.</div><div><br /></div><div>7: 21 - Run frantically towards the stop, signalling with hands and feet and whatever we else we could do</div><div><br /></div><div>7:22 - The bus goes past us and the driver sneers, not stopping to give 2 poor children a lift.</div><div><br /></div><div>7:23 - "Ass, bleddy dog, stupid bus.. i pray you have a breakdown and whichever stop u stop at noone wil get on and everyone will signal u to stop in the middle of the road and then show u middle finger when u stop", Idly mumbles</div><div><br /></div><div>7:25 - We wait</div><div><br /></div><div>7: 30 - Waiting</div><div><br /></div><div><div>7:35 - Waiting</div><div><br /></div><div>7:37 - "I don't think we'll get another one so soon. Let's walk to the junction and take a bus to the train station. Will save us time and we wont waste money like yest"</div><div><br /></div><div>7:40 - We at the junction.</div><div><br /></div><div>7:40 and 35 seconds (i think) - We turn and see 5 c AGAIN goin towards the stop.</div><div><br /></div><div>7: 41 - "STTOOOOPPPPPPPPPPPP" we yell, running towards the stop in full speed, trying to race the bus to the stop.</div><div><br /></div><div>7:42 - Bus reaches stop before us. We run. People watch. We still run.</div><div><br /></div><div>7:43 - We step on the bus and it takes off.</div><div><br /></div><div>7:44 - "I think we just woke up alot of ppl on the that road", idly says. "We should've yelled good morning instead", i comment.</div><div><br /></div><div>7:55 - Bus picks up girl from the middle of the road. "See this guy is nice. I hope that fellow has a breakdown and has to stay there for hours", Idly curses again.</div><div><br /></div><div>7:58 - "Write blog post on this. Everyone needs to know how much we suffer", idly says, adding "And put my quotes in it"</div><div><br /></div><div>9 pm - I oblige. </div><div><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-3411022697051479842?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-72297199450715463312009-07-08T21:24:00.000+05:302009-07-08T21:35:53.538+05:30<b><i>Father P walks into room and sees my haircut</i></b><div><br /></div><div><b>FP:</b> Wow.. makeover eh? How much did you blow?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> 700</div><div><br /></div><div><b>FP:</b> For this? I knew a 1000 rs note was missing from my purse this morning. Sigh.. whatever for? Trying to impress someone?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> Yeah. Trying to get a boyfriend</div><div><br /></div><div><b>FP:</b> Then my money didn't go in vain. Catch one soon. *pats my back* All the best.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> Money didn't go in vain??</div><div><br /></div><div><b>FP:</b> It's an investment. If i invest 1000 now i save many thousands later. Coz if you get committed that poor soul will spend and i can save some cash atlast. Yay! </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> New age dad eh?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>FP:</b> Nahh.. just a smart one.. :P</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-7229719945071546331?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-16263993510715065232009-07-06T19:45:00.002+05:302009-07-06T20:11:45.966+05:30You know those days your imagination is on an overdrive? Today was one of those days when you have non existant conversations with your cosmetics :|<div><br /></div><div>This evening as i went to wash my face, i was struck my dilemma. I have 2 face washes; dove (which i purchased recently) and garnier. Ever since i bought dove, i've been using it and i've ignored poor garnier.</div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Statutory warning :</i></b> <i> Use cushion while hitting head against wall. It will help you vent steam and prevent excessive bleeding.</i></div><div><br /></div><div><b><i>Today in the bath:</i></b></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> *thinking* Let me use garnier today. Long time. Poor thing must b pissed with me.</div><div><br /></div><div>*I pick up the garnier tube*</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Dove:</b> Hey, what are you doing? why are you using him?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> C'mon. I haven't used him in a while. Let me just use him today to show him that i still remember he is there.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Dove:</b> Oh, like that? *winks* ok ok carry on</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Garnier: </b>Hullow. I'm right here. In your hand. Could you atleast like respect my feelings and bitch about me BEHIND MY BACK?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> Oops.. sorry.. *puts dove away* don't worry. I was just saying that to cool her off. Or she won't lather properly tomorrow.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Garnier: </b>Excuse me! You just hurt my feelings. I wont either. Hmmmpf!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> Well, suit yourself. If you don't, then i use her and ignore you for life and throw you out when you expire.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Garnier: </b>*shocked* you wouldn't dare!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> I don't want to remind you about the garnier conditioner that i never used last year. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Garnier:</b> *gasps* oh yeah. The horror! He.... just..... expired... *bows head* may he rest in peace *Wails*</div><div><br /></div><div>*Rubs a lil bit of gel on my hand and massage my face*</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> Dude, your wasted. I dont' feel fresh at all</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Garnier:</b> I'm a face wash not a face fresh</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> Wow. Nice comeback, Einstein. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Garnier:</b> You just shattered my self confidence</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Dove:</b> I didn't know you had any</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Garnier:</b> You don't talk.... you... you... you... bird!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Dove:</b> Is that the best you can do?</div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b>Me:</b> Ok that's enough</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Garnier: </b>So who wins?</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Dove: </b>Me, like DUH!</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Me: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">No</span></b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Dove: </b>What? Then you pick HIM?</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>Me: </b>*sighs* I'm buying lakme 'pure defence' tomorrow!</div><div><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1626399351071506523?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-85568319619077182132009-06-28T21:37:00.005+05:302009-06-28T22:02:53.994+05:30<div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/rsl/lowres/rsln110l.jpg" alt="rsln110l.jpg (358×400)" /></div>This afternoon while i was shopping with Father P, i found out the reason why most sons in india grow up afraid of their mom, atleast until they introduce their girlfriends to her :P . <div><br /></div><div>And no, Father P will not steal any credit for this post (hmmmpf! *mumbles* i give him little space and he overtakes me!)</div><div><br /></div><div>Errr... anyway..getting back...</div><div><br /></div><div>At the billing counter, i am waiting as father p examines all those necessary things (like biscuits, tortilla chips, jalepeno conserve) that i snuck into the shopping cart when he wasn't looking, so that the billing can happen when a small boy and his dad were getting their stuff billed. And they broke out into an arguement. He was clutching a kurkure packet to his chest protectively, protesting and throwing a fit about keeping it back.</div><div><br /></div><div>The father first tells him calmly that he's not going to buy it, then a little stern. Then shouts at his son. He tries to grab the bag but the boy dodges and the rest of us snigger, much to the embarrassment of the father. (Here Father P says : Don't laugh. You were much worse when you were a kid. I was so embarrassed, i wouldn't even take you out of the house half the time coz u made such a rucous everywhere!) Ahemm..</div><div><br /></div><div>So the father tries various means but the boy holds a death grip on the chips packet. Finally, his father used a lethal weapon</div><div><br /></div><div>"If you don't put that down now, i'll tell your mother", he said, puffing his chest and pretending to call out to his wife</div><div><br /></div><div>The boy's expression changed instantly from defiance to surrender. He meekly let the father pull the packet away from him and put it back on the rack. When the father came back to pay, he pulled at his sleeve. The father looked down.</div><div><br /></div><div>"I gave it back. Don't tell mother ok? Promise?"</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-8556831961907718213?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-79490992219683791092009-06-25T20:48:00.002+05:302009-06-25T20:53:32.037+05:30<b>Me:</b> Dad, people think what i write on my blog is all made up<div><br /></div><div><b>Father P:</b> It isn't?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> They mean the conversations we have</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P:</b> Well.. i just have one thing to say about that</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> And that is?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P:</b> The ones where i snub you alone are true. The rest... well... god only knows!</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> Thanks :|</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-7949099221968379109?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-42928977784161698912009-06-22T11:05:00.002+05:302009-06-22T11:21:43.180+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ct.iscute.com/graphics/mset2/fatherdaddy.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://ct.iscute.com/graphics/mset2/fatherdaddy.png" border="0" alt="" /></a><div><br /></div><div><i>When this daughter completely forgets about father's day, Father P is upset. Then she remembers it today and decides to wish him a belated father's day</i></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> Belated Father's day wishes</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P:</b> That's it? No gift?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> I got myself 2 pair of jeans</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P:</b> How is that a gift?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me:</b> I didn't make you to spend on it.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P:</b> How considerate of you. Anyway, thank you for not remembering. What's the point of writing about me on your blog, making me famous and then forgetting me on father's day. </div><div><br /></div><div>Me: I didn't forget you. I just forgot Father's day. By the way, we need to pay college fees today.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P:</b> *mumbles* And i thought i didn't have to spend. Hey, didn't you say some friend of yours got spot selected for the course?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me: </b>Yeah. Your daughter wasn't one of those spot selected candidates though.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P:</b> You don't have to tell me. I know how brilliant you are. I just wish.... sighh. no point..</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me: </b>Wish what?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P: </b>That i could've spot selected my daughter. Mind you, you wouldn't have even been shortlisted for the post.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me: </b>Oh and what questions would you ask them when they came for the interview?</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Father P:</b> That's easy. Just two. Both questions to which you don't know the answer to. "When is my birthday?" and "When is Father's day?" </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Me: </b>*shakes head* sigh!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-4292897778416169891?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-76713620153571278082009-06-14T21:51:00.004+05:302009-06-14T22:39:54.222+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pte2XO66Nwg/SJyVC7XU09I/AAAAAAAABwc/8mRV3lTMm-0/s400/funny%2Bcouple.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_pte2XO66Nwg/SJyVC7XU09I/AAAAAAAABwc/8mRV3lTMm-0/s400/funny%2Bcouple.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div><br /></div>Apart from the very talented (ahem.. this is a lie btw) Chriz falling in love with his neighbour, i have noticed in the past three weeks that love is indeed blosomming everywhere around me.. (Yeah, don't rub it in. Around me. Doesn't include me. Sigh!) In fact, three of my friends have tied hearts (and soon knots) with their self-proclaimed soul mates, including one who i least expected it from... And one just celebrated her first anniversary! (i totally forgot about it, of course. I don't even remember my own birthday, let alone her anniversary date! This was followed by a msg from her boyfriend saying : "psst! wish her! and it's totally not my idea ok?" and you can imagine what followed this. The 'you-ignorant-friend-who-doesn't-care-about-love' lectures.. ahh! that's ok <div><br /></div><div>Just as i was brooding over the fact that men have no taste whatsoever these days (why else would i still be single? huh?), something... changed my mind. I realised love is sometimes funny too :P Yea.. comeback post :P</div><div><br /></div><div>I was returning home from a friend's place. It was incredibly hot and i was testing the effectiveness of the new sunscreen i had worn ( actually it was HOT INSIDE THE DAM BUS!) today. Innocently listening to music, i turned around, only to find myself face to face with a girl koochi-kooing her lover! Ahemm... And the funny part is.... Whatever they did matched the song i was listening to! It was hillarious! Here's the lyrics and what was happening.</div><div><br /></div><div>The song: You and me by Lifehouse (ROTFL... what was i doing listening to a sappy love song in the first place... ahemm.. err.. another story)</div><div><br /></div><div><i>What day is it? And in what month? This clock never seemed so alive...</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Boy catches girls wrist and peers at her watch. Then thinking no one's watching, bends down </div><div>and kisses her hand! </div><div><br /></div><div><i>I can't keep up, i can't back down, i've been losing so much time</i></div><div><br /></div><div>People keep walking by the seat staring at him but his lips seems to hav stuck themselves </div><div>to the back of her palm as tho someone applied super glue to it! After some disgusted stares,</div><div> he removes it and places his hand there instead as tho sealing it in her palm forever! (yeuch!)</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Cause its you and me and all of the people, with nothing to do, nothing to prove</i></div><div><br /></div><div>They look into each other's eyes and the conducter shouts at them to get the ticket. They don't hear! </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><i>And it's you and me and all of the people and </i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><i>I don't know why I can't keep my eyes off of you </i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">They are still looking into each other's eyes and the both sigh (and so do i. Love really is blind. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">The conductor has given up)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i>All of the things, that i want to say, Just aren't coming out right.</i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">The boy, evidently is not very proficient in english. And he tries to propose his love to his </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">darling in english to impress. Big mistake!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">"Maii lakshumi, you aaare. Ai looue you. My pondati (wife in english) di you beee" </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i>I'm tripping on words, you've got my head spinning, I don't know where to go from here</i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">"Vichu stop shall i take ticket faar?", she asksu (oops) in equally fluent english. He sighs in </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">defeat "yenywear dearrr. You aree thear no. That is enuff" </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><b><i>Then i turn back to my window, wondering why this was so weird. When i turned back,</i></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><b><i> the line was </i></b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i>Everything she does is beautiful, everything she does is right....</i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">She buys a ticket from Mylapore to central and he looks at her fondly as she talks to the </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">conductor, his eyes looking as though a miracle was happening in front of him.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">I turned again, kinda freaked and switched songs. And the next was Holiday by Greenday. I</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">smiled and thought this could have nothing with them. When i turned to see a slight drizzle </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">building up. I froze. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">Behind me i heard the guy say "Jestu heaar the rain s voice"</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">And the lines went</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i>Hear the sound of the falling rain, coming down like an armegeddon flame</i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:arial;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; line-height: 16px; white-space: pre; -webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;">I got off at the next stop!</span></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-7671362015357127808?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com31tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-8709932890423833372009-06-05T22:01:00.004+05:302009-06-05T22:21:52.705+05:30<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://hd-wallpapers.com/img/medium_widewallpapers_eu_1206953132.jpg" /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I will wait whilst time flies,<br /></div><div>Till you smile; there my happiness lies. </div><div><br /></div><div>I will wait till you break free,</div><div>And come again to be with me.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will wait through day and wait through night,</div><div>Till i see the faintest light.</div><div><br /></div><div>I will wait, till the end;</div><div>I will wait for you, my dear friend.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-870993289042383337?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-47375641971624925672009-06-02T15:26:00.005+05:302009-06-02T16:44:16.372+05:30Father P calls himself a post-modernist (Actually, i just came up with that). In a heated arguement about whether is it proper for a guy or girl to ask the other out first, he shut my mouth with one of his brilliant one-liners.<br /><br /><strong>Me:</strong> I think the guy must make the first move.<br /><br /><strong>Father P:</strong> Why? You asked someone out and they rejected you?<br /><br /><strong>Me:</strong> That's besides the point, dad.<br /><br /><strong>Father P:</strong> Naa.. I think sometimes a woman can make the first move too.<br /><br /><strong>Me:</strong> Why should she?<br /><br /><strong>Father P:</strong> Cause she's a woman. Has to woo-her-man.<br /><br /><strong>Me:</strong> *Bows before the great power* Applause!<br />__________________________________________________________________<br /><em><strong>Update:</strong></em><br /><strong>Me:</strong> People think you rock, dad.<br /><br /><strong>Father P:</strong> Tell them they are mistaken<br /><br /><strong>Me:</strong> Why?<br /><br /><strong>Father P:</strong> Cause i'm human being.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-4737564197162492567?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com33tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-30741396629384554772009-05-30T22:03:00.002+05:302009-05-30T22:31:59.718+05:30<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/177/486254143_68055ae657_m.jpg" /><br /></div><div><br /></div>She stood at the edge of the shore. Her long, braided hair flying truant in the gushing wind, loose strands shadowing her worried face. She steadily moved towards the water, her mind elsewhere.<div><br /></div><div>"What am i going to do now?", she wondered, watching the calming rhythm of the waves crashing upon the shore.  For a minute she lost herself in it and then shook herself awake. Things have to be done. The pain has to pass. But it wouldn't let go. </div><div><br /></div><div>She wrapped her <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">saree</span> closer around her figure as though it was cold. It's been a year but it was still fresh in her memory. How would she ever go on? She stole a glance around her and made sure noone was in the vicinity. Suddenly, it seemed easy. If she could just walk into the waves, she would never have to worry again. The pain will momentarily increase but then it will be forever gone....</div><div><br /></div><div>Her mind drew a blank. She kept walking toward the water. Her pace increased. "I can do this", she said, walking into the water.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Mummy, are you coming to play too?"</div><div><br /></div><div>She whirled around and found her five-year-old daughter tugging at her saree. For a moment she was dumbstruck.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Of course, dear. But it's late. Let's leave. You need to go to school tomorrow and i have work", she went on, lifting the child up and placing her firmly on her waist.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Can i have ice-cream now?", the kid pushed</div><div><br /></div><div>"You'll catch a..... yes.. yes, we'll buy a couple of cones at the supermarket near home. Ok?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Ok. Chocolate?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Hahahaha... sure, darling", she laughed, placing a kiss on her child's forehead.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Life goes on", she thought, smiling as her daughter returned the kiss.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-3074139662938455477?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-86805389909553576852009-05-24T18:36:00.004+05:302009-05-24T18:55:08.615+05:30After reading Mark Haddon's 'The Curious case of the dog in the night time', i was thoroughly convinced that father p suffered from down's syndrome. I confronted him with the information:<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I think you have <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">down's</span> syndrome</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Huh?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> You are so meticulous and catogorical that it drives me nuts. You are a doctor. You should know u have a disease by now.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>You have Up syndrome</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Huh?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>You keep messing everything <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">UP</span> which is why i am meticulous about it!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">*I wonders why i have such a dad*</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">__________________________________________________________________</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Update</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Mayz has awarded me with 2 super cute awards :) Thankss bro </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><img src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_TAMITWHfyaU/Shjg57807MI/AAAAAAAAAv0/aYidxp5rEK4/s1600/Thank+You%5B3%5D.jpg" alt="[Thank You[3].jpg]" /><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">The Thank You award </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">&amp;</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_TAMITWHfyaU/ShjhBLz2PJI/AAAAAAAAAv8/ApU54RKzVJE/s1600/pixie%5B3%5D.jpg" alt="[pixie[3].jpg]" /><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Pixie award</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">:) :) another 2.. hehehehe.. what a week! :) :)</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-8680538990955357685?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-11462940958662755722009-05-19T21:55:00.006+05:302009-05-19T22:02:02.575+05:30<div style="text-align: left;">Hey guys<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>I can't believe i've got 3 awards :P apart from the 5 i had already... woooohoooo! :)</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://multimenonwrites.blogspot.com/">Nikhil </a> has bestowed upon me two awards;  </div><div style="text-align: center;">The xxtraordinary Blogger award </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(85, 26, 139); "><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_NVzt_NqlKJA/SWbXaLfX3MI/AAAAAAAAAJE/6AB3inrpwQI/S220/xxtraordinary+blogger+award+phoenix.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 220px; height: 220px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;">and</div><div style="text-align: center;">The sweet blogger award :)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oHA57X84Pdk/Sb6DXgI_cBI/AAAAAAAAAXY/mDu0UI1sO-U/s400/Sweet_Sweet_Love_by_pinkparis1233.jpg"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_oHA57X84Pdk/Sb6DXgI_cBI/AAAAAAAAAXY/mDu0UI1sO-U/s400/Sweet_Sweet_Love_by_pinkparis1233.jpg" border="0" alt="" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 200px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><a href="http://lifeofthepinkorchid.blogspot.com/">The pink orchid a.k.a Kajal</a> has also been kind enough to give me an award i feel i don't deserve :P thanks anyway kajal... and i'm sorry for putting it up so late.. was waiting for an opportunity.. :) </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Heart stealer award (ahem! wish this were true in my neighbour's case :( ) </div><div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_oHA57X84Pdk/Sgj5LUWzBtI/AAAAAAAAAyo/G2ztBF7fv4k/s1600/i%2Bsteal%2Bhearts%2B2.jpg" alt="[i+steal+hearts+2.jpg]" /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>There! I've blown my own trumpet :P </div><div><br /></div><div>Now i can sleep for 2 days without worrying about updating ;) hehehehe</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1146294095866275572?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-87597410650511322252009-05-16T19:59:00.002+05:302009-05-16T20:01:53.987+05:30After a huge fight the previous night which ended up with me missing dinner and breakfast, father P calls when i'm at work the next day<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Father P: </span>So you are planning to fast unto death?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Yeah</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Father P:</span> Are you sure?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Yeah</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Father P:</span> Ok fine. I'm ordering Pizza for dinner tonight. Cya</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> !#$!$!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-8759741065051132225?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-60616725256909615482009-05-14T19:21:00.002+05:302009-05-14T19:51:59.015+05:30<div>Kids are the best teachers....  :)</div><div><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.faeriekeeper.net/poetry3a15a.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 309px;" src="http://www.faeriekeeper.net/poetry3a15a.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div>This afternoon i was at a bookstore, looking at all those books i could not afford (if anyone wants to buy me a birthday gift i would suggest you get me the entire Calvin and Hobbes collection :D )  and suddenly i heard loud footsteps followed by a loud shriek. Along with half the bookstore stalkers there, i turned around to see 2 kids engaged in a serious game of running race in the middle of the store. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>The 2 contenders were a tiny girl in a pink frock, who was at most 5 and a slightly bigger boy, 8 or so, dressed in a blue t shirt and shorts. Both kids looked absolutely adorable and as always the boy seemed to be making the rules for the game. </div><div><br /></div><div>Suddenly the boy, after a deep discussion wit his kid sister shouted "1, 2, 3, GO!" and both ran for their lives up the stairs and down again. By this time, most of the watchers had dispersed to mind their own business but i wanted to know who won so i stayed on to watch. </div><div><br /></div><div>The kids came thumping down and as expected, the boy came first by a large margin.. He ran down and jumped a couple of times. Then he saw that his sister hadn't come down yet. He turned around to find her standing on the steps looking down at him. The kid almost had tears welling in her eyes. The boy immediately climbed back those stairs, went next to his sister, gently lifted her, carried her down the rest and put her down in front of him saying "You came first!" </div><div><br /></div><div>The girl immediately smiled and started laughing in pure joy shouting "i won i won" at anyone who passed by her. </div><div><br /></div><div>The boy smiled and watched on...</div><div><br /></div><div>I moved to the next rack with a smile that stayed with me the rest of the day....</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6061672525690961548?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-71698493647216933102009-05-06T11:33:00.001+05:302009-05-10T11:10:14.752+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SgZogJ6xSUI/AAAAAAAAAVE/lHYijBIG0dc/s1600-h/dad.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SgZogJ6xSUI/AAAAAAAAAVE/lHYijBIG0dc/s400/dad.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5334065710294452546" /></a><div><br /></div><div>His eyes were wrinkled with worry and care,<br /></div><div>Thinking of the nights spent waiting up, scared.</div><div>"Where is she?", he thought, "How can she dare?"</div><div>To the shadows he resigned again, an everyday fare.</div><div>Past midnight she walked in without a bother,</div><div>He looked on and sighed in relief; how it is to be a father.  </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-7169849364721693310?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-31294330768433855862009-05-01T16:13:00.005+05:302009-05-01T17:46:23.843+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/lgo/lowres/lgon40l.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 381px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/lgo/lowres/lgon40l.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">I have yet again successfully made people think i fell in and out to love with the sheer power of my words :P Kudos to me! ahem... errr.... hehehehehehe</span></span><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>Another Father P post coming up.... sizzling hot :P .... hahahaha </div><div><br /></div><div>This morning, i woke up late (as usual) and found Father P missing. I needed money to buy some stuff from the nearby department store and hence went searching around the house for him. But of course, he had left for work. So i called him.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Good morning pa</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP: </span>You are calling and wishing me on the phone? How much money do you need?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> What an insult! How dare you accuse me of such atrocious things?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP:</span> Do you want money or not?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Urm... errr...Yes.. need around 100 </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP:</span> What for?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Need to buy a face wash</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP: </span>But i saw 4 tubes in the loo cabinet..</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> None of them are face washes</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP: </span>Then what the hell are they?!?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Urm... conditioner, softener... uhh... cleansing milk... and uhh...</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP: </span>What? What do you need to condition, soften and cleanse? Your soul?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> You are a guy....</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP:</span> Thank god for that.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Now don't be a chauvnist, pa</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP:</span> Are you trying to call me a pig?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I never said that</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP:</span> But chauvinist is usually followed by a pig</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Only if chauvnist is followed by 'ic'</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP: </span>Oh i see...</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:  </span>Now i might have to add it</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP:</span> Forget washing your face ever, then. But you know what i  just realized? i cannot be a chauvnist...</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Why not?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">FP:</span> Because I have a daughter who spends over Rs. 500 of my money every month to buy tubes of cream to cleanse, soften and condition her soul... which invariably will make her a better person.. now which chauvnist would agree to do that to a woman??</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">*I faints*</span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-3129433076843385586?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-19774102405602355612009-04-28T15:35:00.001+05:302009-04-28T15:35:07.619+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://th05.deviantart.com/fs22/300W/i/2007/339/9/a/Memories_of_the_past_by_WiciaQ.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://th05.deviantart.com/fs22/300W/i/2007/339/9/a/Memories_of_the_past_by_WiciaQ.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Between the rains and the rainbow bright,<br /></div><div>Darkness unfolds; a veil over light.</div><div>I watch him fade away, with darkness blend,</div><div>Now i know every beginning must have an end...</div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1977410240560235561?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-23793932987227533242009-04-26T18:59:00.004+05:302009-04-26T19:33:28.115+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3123/2410992941_f08c53497e.jpg?v=0"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3123/2410992941_f08c53497e.jpg?v=0" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> Hey, can i ask you something?</span><br /></div></span><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her:</span> Sure</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> Do you have any secrets?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her:</span> Just one.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> What is it?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her: </span>Hahahaha.... if i told you it wudn't be a secret anymore. </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> C'mon. It's me. I have a right to know.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her: </span>Okay. i'll tell you. It's.....</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> *puts his finger on her lips* Shhh! </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">She shrugs.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> You claim you are good at poetry. Tell it to me in 2 lines; you wannabe poet....</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Her: </span>I'm surprised, dear, that you never knew;</div><div>          My best kept secret is <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">You</span></span>.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-2379393298722753324?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com41tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-39174055498094252912009-04-25T00:06:00.007+05:302009-04-25T14:52:21.687+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SfKx88pN1yI/AAAAAAAAAU8/HnOi5bFPXuM/s1600-h/moonlight.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 268px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SfKx88pN1yI/AAAAAAAAAU8/HnOi5bFPXuM/s400/moonlight.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5328516969761986338" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: left;">As the moon threw its shadow on the open sea,<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>He leaned closer and whispered to me;</div><div><br /></div><div>"Do you see the moon profess his love to the sea?</div><div><br /></div><div>Who in turn shone brighter, like a prisoner set free?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Look closer at them both... there's you and me"</span></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-3917405549809425291?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com25tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-28091254064234560252009-04-21T23:09:00.006+05:302009-04-22T00:07:38.919+05:30<div style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.hallflatfarm.co.uk/images/river%20irt%20at%20hallflat%20farm%20woods.JPG" /><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Twigs crack under my feet as he leads me on...<div><br /></div><div>Past the desolate woods... deeper... deeper... </div><div><br /></div><div>A clearing appears... and a river...</div><div><br /></div><div>I move to the edge... breathing it in...</div><div><br /></div><div>The water is so calm... the woods so silent..</div><div><br /></div><div>I touch the water... soft as silk...</div><div><br /></div><div>The touch disturbs its sanctity and ripples appear... i am ashamed...</div><div><br /></div><div>"It's okay", he says. A warm sensation on my shoulder... "I am here".</div><div><br /></div><div>A smile creeps its way onto my lips...</div><div><br /></div><div>"Forever?", i ask, suddenly breathless. </div><div><br /></div><div>The wind blows his whisper by my ears..."Forever".</div><div><br /></div><div>I touch the water once again, the tip of my finger prodding it...</div><div><br /></div><div>It is patient... ripples no more....</div><div><br /></div><div>I am puzzled. I turn and look up at him....</div><div><br /></div><div>He laughs... comes close to my ear and whispers...</div><div><br /></div><div>"The water is jealous"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Why?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Because it won't be around as long as i will be"</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-2809125406423456025?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-81782591905315961812009-04-14T18:41:00.004+05:302009-04-14T19:20:20.592+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://static.pyzam.com/img/funnypics/animals/friends.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 375px; height: 460px;" src="http://static.pyzam.com/img/funnypics/animals/friends.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">As of today i officially announce that i might not be regular on my blog due to the sudden entry of an extremely handsome humanoid of the male gender in the flat adjecent to mine :D ...<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This morning as i was loitering up and down the stairs picking up towels that my maid 'accidently' dropped down (4 times!), someone brushed past me on my third descent. I turned to face the back of the most handsome guy i've ever seen (in my apartment). Since news travels fast in the maid community.. i approached mine with much caution so as to not rouse her suspicion and very casually dropped in a word about a new 'boy' in the apartment.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes.. he is that next door kid's uncle"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Ohhhhh... must be 30 or so then no", i asked, inwardly hoping he wasn't</div><div><br /></div><div>"No no... he's just 25", came an uninterested reply. But i was interested... very interested...</div><div><br /></div><div>"Ohh... what does he do?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"They put those sums and all no... maths ppl"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Huh?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"In a shop and all they are incharge of the accounts"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Charted Accountant ah.. ok ok"</div><div><br /></div><div>And i walked away from her as any more questions would definitely find its way to my grandmother's ears.</div><div><br /></div><div>I spent the next three and half hours studying... with a xerox in my hand.... on the corridor... right opposite the grilled door to his home.... my eyes were plastered on his door... now and then darting to the paper whenever people passed by... that at the end of the 3.5 hours i had only glimpsed at the word "principles" .. "management"..."organizing"... "co-ordinating"...</div><div><br /></div><div>After lunch i saw that father p and grandma were both fast asleep. I resumed my intensive study pattern for the next two hours until i heard father p shout about the water i had left boiling on the stove 2 hours ago!! Such intensive studying i was doing :P</div><div><br /></div><div>By then i had seen him for more than an hour and adrenaline was pumping. I was so excited i texted all my friends about him....</div><div><br /></div><div>But with friends like these.... who needs enemies... check out their responses...</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">BloggerMouth</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Guess what? guess what? guess what?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">BM: </span>What maaaa?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>A hot guy moved in next door. He's so hot i've been going up and down the corridor all afternoon.</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">BM:</span> When can i come to your house for combined studies?</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Arv</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Hey bro i got a new hot neighbour</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Arv:</span> too much.. not fair.. get me a girl first.. i'm the eldest, i have the seniority here on these matters.. not fair kiddo... ok go study</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>ROTFL</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Iysh</span></span></div><div><div class="chat out"> <div class="msg 1st"><br /></div><div class="msg 1st"><span class="salutation"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> </span>heyyyyy. i got a new hot neighbour</div> <div class="msg Nth"><br /></div><div class="msg Nth"><span class="salutation"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Iyshu: </span></span>wowww. Intro de!</div></div><div class="chat in"> <div class="clear"></div></div> <div class="break"></div> <div class="chat out"> <div class="msg 1st"> <div class="icon"> <div style="FILTER: progid:DXImageTransform.Microsoft.AlphaImageLoader(src='file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Administrator/Local%20Settings/Application%20Data/Google/Google%20Talk/avatars/e219fb09dadf9e2df8eb48a20c5def7ea2bcea1c.online.avatar'); HEIGHT: 1px"></div></div><span class="salutation"><div class="msg 1st"><br /></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Misty:</span> Podi</span></div> <div class="msg Nth"><br /></div> <div class="clear"></div></div> <div class="break"></div> <div class="chat in"> <div class="msg 1st"> <div class="icon"> <div style="FILTER: progid:DXImageTransform.Microsoft.AlphaImageLoader(src='file:///C|/Documents%20and%20Settings/Administrator/Local%20Settings/Application%20Data/Google/Google%20Talk/avatars/f04603192867d6d64ac5c1716d6c6447a2071fe4.online.avatar'); HEIGHT: 1px"></div></div><span class="salutation"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Iyshu</span>: </span>hmpf!</div></div></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Swe</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Hey i got a new hot neighbour de</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Swe:</span> :O I hope he's committed de!</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Go die!</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Valia</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>I got a new hot neighbour de</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Valia: </span>Hot you say? Maybe we could trade. Im bored of my hot neighbour... He's 6 2 if it helps</div> <div id="insert"></div> <div class="clear"></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Boss: </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"> </span>Boss, guess what. A good looking guy just moved in next door. And i've been walking up and down the corridor since morning</div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Boss:</span> Too much... </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">3 hrs later....</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">Boss: </span>Stop walking up and down the corridor.. you are going to freak that guy out!!!</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-8178259190531596181?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com47tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-28141740371051924252009-04-10T16:22:00.002+05:302009-04-10T16:54:28.692+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://rlv.zcache.com/nuts_about_my_daughter_dad_card-p137337244201330384qi0i_400.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://rlv.zcache.com/nuts_about_my_daughter_dad_card-p137337244201330384qi0i_400.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><div>We all know our parents love us... or do we? But how is it that my father shows his love for me through his different methods of snubbing me??? <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This afternoon, just as i was about to immerse myself in corporate communication.. planning how to create an identity, build a brand and maintain my reputation (which seems non-existant), a miracle happened. It was so surprising i have decided to call it 'The Miracle of 2009'... my father texted me!!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>"I will be late... give grandma bread and butter. Dad."</div><div><br /></div><div>I replied</div><div><br /></div><div>"Ok. Butter was in freezer. Now melting."</div><div><br /></div><div>I was bored and no one else was messaging. Hence the lame reply. Then, the miracle happened again.</div><div><br /></div><div>"Why? Is it warm outside? Dad."</div><div><br /></div><div>"No its 0 degrees and i'm freezing"</div><div><br /></div><div>At this point i already knew Father P had begun his handiwork... his sense of humor was unleashed again :P</div><div><br /></div><div>"Oh is it so? Ok i'll go outside and check. Dad"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Don't put blade pa. Do i wait for you to come or do i eat something cause i'm hungry?"</div><div><br /></div><div>I couldn't believe father p and i were conversing through text.. it has never happened before!!!</div><div><br /></div><div>"I have eaten. You go ahead. Dad."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Ok. You enjoy 'hanging out' then. Tata"</div><div><br /></div><div>And there i thought it ended.. but i was wrong...</div><div><br /></div><div>"Thanks. I ate out. Will tell you the menu when i get back. Dad."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Are you pulling my leg?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Yes. Dad"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Your daughter is studying hard for exam. Don't disturb now"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Studying hard or hardly studying? Dad."</div><div><br /></div><div>"Why are u comedying like this pa?"</div><div><br /></div><div>"Love. Dad."</div><div><br /></div><div>:) And there came the biggest smile on my face....</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-2814174037105192425?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com36tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-62504720487748837882009-04-07T21:38:00.002+05:302009-04-07T21:50:02.911+05:30I haven't been here in a long time.. and won't be updating for a while.. actually only when i make statements like this i will update everyday :P .. anyway here are the top 10 reasons why i have been avoiding my blog:<br /><br />1. I got myself a boyfriend<br /><br />2. I'm busy with him<br /><br />3. I spend 10 hours a day on the phone with him<br /><br />4. He doesn't let me talk to anyone else<br /><br />5. He is very possessive about me and thinks the internet will 'corrupt' me<br /><br />6. He wants me to spend every living moment thinking about him (and is happy now that i'm writing about him in my blog though he is not too happy about the 'writing in the blog' part)<br /><br />7. He doesn't want me to strain too much by thinking (ahemm.. not that i use my brain much anyway... )<br /><br />8. He thinks i will flaunt him on my blog becoz he is very hot <a href="http://www.freewebs.com/ghettosupersstar/ryan%20gosling%20in%20remember%20the%20titans.jpg">seeeeeee</a><br /><br />9. He doesn't like chriz and lance flirting with me...<br /><br />10. I HAVE A SEMESTER EXAM TOMORROW!!!!!!!!<br /><br />P.S: I took a poll among friends on the first 9 points... they all agreed it was a very good April Fool's Joke... :| sigh...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6250472048774883788?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-24314763585168274842009-03-27T20:20:00.005+05:302009-03-27T22:24:31.217+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/mbc/lowres/mbcn247l.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/mbc/lowres/mbcn247l.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Yes... another Father P post!!! What a celebrity he has become :P<br /><br />This afternoon, Father P was 'cleaning' by college bag (snooping around, more like) and found a fastrack box with a watch inside it. "Who is this for? Did the college give you this for achieving something?", he asked. What would any sane person do at this question? Laugh. Yes. And that's what i did. "What makes you think my college will sponsor a fastrack watch for me?". He thought for a while and examined the watch. "Then who gave this? Some boy right?". At this too i laughed. A little louder.<br /><br />Father P got a little angry. He put up a hand to stop me from saying anything and went into deep thought. I guess he wanted to find out who gave me the watch but his ego prevented him from taking the simple way out; asking me! After 5 minutes of guessing wrong, he gave up. I explained that a friend had bought it for her boyfriend and i was safeguarding it till the coast was clear to give it to him...<br /><br />"Oh!", he said and smiled widely. I wondered what had gone wrong with him! I thought parents were supposed to chide their children if they help their friends with 'lowe' matters. But here, my dad was sitting and smirking at me. And then came his punch dialogue...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">"History repeats itself"</span><br /><br />I was silent for more than a minute, which is very unlikely when i am talkin to dad. First of all, i didn't understand what he meant by history repeating itself. Cause as far as i know he hasn't had any romantic relationships! Then again, i thought, neither have i. Maybe he's rubbing it in! Second of all, what a punch dialogue and what a smirk! :P<br /><br />I ordered him to explain. "Well. I'm very surprised that you haven't figured it out yet. I did this too in college", he proudly exclaimed. What?!?! All these 20 years i had been subject to his 'college' stories about how the food was bad and he was the first in class (in med school!! can you believe that? what a nerd!) and how ... ok.. let's not get there :P Anyway, to put it in a nutshell all his college stories were boring.. and repetitive (Yes, i must have heard the incident about his bed bugged bed sum 100 times!) and i always ran away when he began. But this side of Father P, i had never known!<br /><br />"You what?" i asked rather dumbly. "Yes, my best friend's sister was in love with another friend but he was against it. So i took them to tirupathi in a train and married them off. Before this happened, i used to be the messenger delivering notes here and there!", he laughed. I was dumbstruck! I have had the coolest, adventure-driven dad who helped couples (so i guessed he was anti ram sena) and i didn't know it all along! What a waste of life i am!! I decided to test waters...<br /><br />"I shall note this down. Father P... smirks, helps couples, buys them train tickets and gets them married in register offices", i mocked writing them down in a piece of paper. "Why? do you know anyone in love who needs help?", he joked. "Of course. You are staring right at her", i told him, waiting in anticipation for the reply......<br /><br />After 2 minutes... he looks up at me seriously..<br /><br />"Really? Can i meet your boyfriend?".<br /><br />My heart stopped beating that instant. Was this really Father P? He wanted to meet my imaginary non-existent boyfriend? I thought he was going to ground me for a week and make me break up with my figment of imagination (damn it! i rub it in myself! hmpf!)<br /><br />"Sure.. i'll bring him home. What would you tell him if i did?". I was curious.<br /><br />"I would tell him to quit while he's ahead. And work on his taste. Especially in women"<br /><br />:|<br /><br />And he did it again!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-2431476358516827484?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-25944016774199115802009-03-24T19:40:00.002+05:302009-03-24T20:03:19.495+05:30Today was our valedictory function at college... as we sit trying not to fall asleep at the various lectures on 'how to be with your.. ahemmm.. partner after marriage' and 'being good home makers' and somewhere towards the end mentioning 'career women'... our college staff had us in splits with their amazing one liners (they didn't know it was a joke though!)..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">HOI(not D): </span>We have <span style="font-style: italic;">almost </span>2852 students in this college!<span style="font-style: italic;"> ( i wonder if 2851.5 was the accurate answer!)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">HOI(not D)</span><span style="font-weight: bold;">: </span>I will give you four options. First, you can study here again for you PG; second, come back as a staff ; third, come back for placements anytime during the year, fourth; even for entrepreneurship and if you want to get married, please give us your horoscopes also <span style="font-style: italic;">(notice the math and the nakkals!)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">HOI: </span>Apart from placement cell, we will also start a marraige bee-row <span style="font-style: italic;">(pronounciation of bureau) </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Head of some dept that i couldn't pronounce: </span>I present the roll of honour of my department. Aarthi to begin with. She is a good fellow... <span style="font-style: italic;">(what?!?!)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Head of computer science department (in a surprising sing song voice): </span>These are the 'children' who have done the department proud <span style="font-style: italic;">(tune it to 'in da club' by 50 cent with pucca indian accent) </span>These' kids' will go a long way in their lifes. <span style="font-style: italic;">(notice the english!)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Head of nutrition department : </span>I know you know me as a Hitler and a Mussolini. Now, you know i know too!! <span style="font-style: italic;">(wow...!!! We so needed to know)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And last but not the least.... the one to introduce her class at the very end (when people were successfully snoring or gorging on the refreshments)... my dept's head!!!! The infamous one..</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">HOD of jour: </span>This batch is a special batch. Because they allowed me to experiment with them! <span style="font-style: italic;">(WTF!?!?!?)</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-2594401677419911580?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-91515993268308193512009-03-23T19:57:00.005+05:302009-03-23T21:03:33.713+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://learnportuguese.files.wordpress.com/2006/11/055idiot.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 421px; height: 480px;" src="http://learnportuguese.files.wordpress.com/2006/11/055idiot.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I have a friend... who is obsessed with the word 'Idiot'. She uses it for everything and anything and anyone and everyone (yes, including our HOD.. just not in front of her!). Recently she had asked me to fill her slam book (which she dearly regretted later...) and she wanted a long entry. The problem was, i wrote 7 sides. Yes, long enough. Do you agree? But she doesn't. Apparently there was nothing about her in the entry!!<br /><br />Here's my defence. If you are stuck in a seminar about Feminism on a lovely Saturday morning from 9 till 5 and someone asked you to fill in their slam book what would you write? I gave her intricate details of the seminar :P combined with some random lines like "Oh.. they've just switched off the lights and so my handwriting may get awry... kindly excuse.. ahh! lights are back again and so i'll try to continue neatly". I say people don't appreciate true creativity. They want stuff like "you are sweet, cute, intelligent, nice, amazing, friendly, helpfu.... yadda yadda" load of adjectives with a smiley at the end. If she fit any of those adjectives i'd have written them! I just cannot lie!! hahahahaaha (don't kill me... again)<br /><br />Anyway, because of that 7 side entry this girl has overused the word 'idiot' on me. Here's a conversation before an exam:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Hey A<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A: </span>Idiot<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Did you study?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A:</span> No idiot<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Do you know the portions<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A: </span>Idiot no<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Can you ask someone and tell me?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A:</span> I'll try idiot<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> And don't study too much<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A:</span> Idiot!!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> How many times will you use that word?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A:</span> As long as needed idiot!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> How long is that?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A:</span> You are wasting time idiot<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I don't know what to study. That's why i called.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A:</span> Call someone else idiot.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Who else?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A:</span> Someone else. I'm keeping the phone idiot.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Ok bye!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">A: </span>Bye idiot.<br /><br />You see what i mean? Every single sentence has an idiot attached to it !!!! Moreover, it's not just when she speaks. The idioculosis that she suffers from has also spread to her sms's!!!!<br /><br />I messaged her at midnight before an exam when i was too bored to study.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Hey how much over, nerd?" </span>(Yes, btw, she's the dept's best outgoing student and world's biggest nerd!)<br /><br />She replies<span style="font-style: italic;"> "Not yet started idiot!!" </span>(Always followed by 3 !!!s)<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Oh and you want me to believe that?"</span>, i ask.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"I'm disussing sun signs with my friend"</span>, she says (for once there is no idiot in the msg. "Phew!" i think)<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Tell me something about cancerians"</span>, i prod<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Cancerians are idiots!!! who don't study and refuse to let others study too"</span>, came the reply, after which i stopped messaging her due to a sudden urge to protect a non-existant self-respect.<br /><br />Our conversations after that night have been limited to "Hi's" and "Idiot"s (her language for "hi")<br /><br />But i tell you, this girl never learns. Today she again gives me her slam book and says "this time atleast fill it with sense"... muhahahahaha... like i can ever write something that doesn't hav sarcasm dripping from it. And this was a typical slambook with 'what is your favourite colour' types... and i went on a roll... AGAIN...and after i finished i handed it over to her..<br /><br />She poured over it... and i saw her face contort into various undecipherable emotions... and then she looked up at me.... i was baring all my teeth smiling at her (Rather scarily, i must add here!)<br /><br />Her lips quivered... "There it comes", i thought... "I....I.....I........I...... It's funny!", she burst out laughing....<br /><br />I was at a loss for words... for once... and then the colossal ending came...<br /><br />"IDIOT!!! (THREE !!!.. .very important)... she shouted at me, throwing a chalk piece in my direction.... (which missed me, btw)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-9151599326830819351?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com69tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-63838094001310478982009-03-14T19:46:00.008+05:302009-03-14T22:43:42.407+05:30<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SbvjJwAfM5I/AAAAAAAAAUE/j0Ah0sc1P_0/s1600-h/DSC00207.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SbvjJwAfM5I/AAAAAAAAAUE/j0Ah0sc1P_0/s400/DSC00207.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313089942058906514" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Seriously at work </span><br /></div><br /><br /><a href="http://devilstalk-nan.blogspot.com/">N</a>, M, <a href="http://vipsdontlie.blogspot.com/">V</a>, <a href="http://lokpria.blogspot.com/">L</a> and <a href="http://thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com/">I</a> work part-time as student reporters at a prestigious publication. No prizes for guessing which publication it is :P ... anyway... just another day at office....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Outside class</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I :</span> Who's going to office today?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Silence...</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />I :</span> No one's going? Assuming i am, who is coming along?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Silence..</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />I : </span>hey.. one of you guys come<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">L :</span> I have NCC work da. Not today.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M :</span> I'll come<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(I look at N, who ducks)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N :</span> I want to go home and sleeeeeppp<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />I :</span> So do i but please come...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N :</span> Sighhh... ok...<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />V :</span> I'm going for an assignment... but i'll come to office and go from there...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Outside college:</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I : </span>How are we going? Bus or auto?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V :</span> Anything is fine<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N : </span>Anything is fine<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M: </span>Bus<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />I :</span> Auto? (me hates bus)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V : </span>But bus is cheaper<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />I :</span> I thought you said anything is fine<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V :</span> Did i not exclude money? Damn...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M :</span> You always want to go by auto!! Why can't you take public transport?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I :</span> Auto is also transport for the public by private people<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M :</span> I'm not coming<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I :</span> Alright bus it is..<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">At bus stop</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />I :</span> Where is the bus?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M :</span> Patience, child<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">A man throws a piece of paper on the ground. M gets irritated. M is a social activist</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M :</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">(loudly)</span> Some people think no one is watching them when they do things like littering. But god has many eyes<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Three of us look at her, bewildered</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M :</span> Some people never change. They think they're too smart<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Litter throwing man looks nervously at her</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M :</span> It is the duty of every citizen to make sure their country is litter free. Alas! just because they're lazy, they just throw things around and take their country for granted <span style="font-style: italic;">(She looks at me as she says this. I gulp)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Litter man stares at us nervous, bends down, picks up paper and throws it in the bin. Comes back to wait for bus.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">I:</span> Bus is still<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span>no<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"></span></span></span>t coming... bloody 17 m. How come i've seen 3 empty 25 g's till now?<span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">M</span> (loudly at litter man): Yes.. you keep waiting. the bus won't come<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I:</span> (unsuspecting) It wont? :(<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />M:</span> IT WONT!<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />17 m, empty as can be, stops right in front of M. M is shaken</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br />Entrance of office</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N:</span> Can we finish the pages and leave early today?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I :</span> Sure. I'm game.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />V :</span> I need to leave in an hour<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />M : </span> Are we going to the canteen? I'm hungry<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />I :</span> So am i<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />V :</span> Not really<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />N : </span>Anything is fine...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">At canteen</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I : </span>Who has the token?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N : </span>I don't<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V : </span>Neither do i<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">M : </span>Nope..<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />I : </span>Uhh.. you guys realise we can't eat without getting tokens?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />N :</span> Oops..<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />V :</span> Someone go down and buy<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I :</span> Who is the someone?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />N :</span> Not me..<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />V : </span>Me neither<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I :</span> Don't look at me<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Three of us look at M. She sighs</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />M :</span> I'll go. Morons. Lazy couch potatos<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N :</span> When you buy the token, check out the menu and tell us what's there.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />M :</span> I'm going and buying 1 token for myself!!!!<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />M stomps away. We follow. All of us end up going down and buying.. Lunch happens</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Inside office. V and I are strategically positioned opposite the boss. N and M in far corners. Two terminals adjacent to boss's chair are vacant. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">V and I are giggling over a random forward.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Boss:</span> V and A. Come here to these two terminals.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We look up.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V and I : </span>Two mins<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Boss: </span>No, come here now<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />V and I : </span>Ok coming..<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />We stay where we are</span>. Both our mobiles buzz with a message.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Message from boss :</span> Both of you stop whispering nonsense and move!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">V and I stand up like clockwork and shift positions</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SbvinR1lcBI/AAAAAAAAAT8/PrzPewLdGKU/s1600-h/DSC00175.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SbvinR1lcBI/AAAAAAAAAT8/PrzPewLdGKU/s400/DSC00175.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313089349844561938" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Hard work and sincerity personified</span><br /></div><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">2 Pizzas arrive. Boss stands and walks upto us.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss :</span> Did you guys eat?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Us :</span> Yes<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss :</span> That's ok. As a part of team building exercise, i want you all to finish this one pizza.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Us:</span> No, its ok, no we're not hungry.. not really.. i don like pizza...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss :</span> I'm the boss. I'm telling you to eat. EAT!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Us : </span>Ok.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We trudge upto the pizza box under the watchful eyes of the boss and pick a piece each.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Boss :</span> Now take another piece..<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Us :</span> But..<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss : </span>It's upto you guys to finish the pizza<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Secretly glad about having pizza, we make very sorrowful faces to mislead him and finish off the pizza, acting as though we are doing it with great difficulty.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Half hour passes. We work</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Boss :</span> Now that you guys have had your fill, as part of the digestion process each of you will play a game of TT with me.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Us : </span>Groann... we're so fulll...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss :</span> That's the point. Now get up. Get up.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />M :</span> Pages aren't done i'll stay and do them<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I :</span> I'll help you.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V :</span> N had formal TT training when she was in school. Take her. I will give M and A moral support.<br /><br />......<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Boss drags all of us to the table.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Round 1 : M and V vs. Boss and N</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />I is score keeper and ball girl (hahahaha)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">N misses ball twice and hits the third for what later comes to be termed 'roof ball' </span>. <span style="font-style: italic;">V and M play like they are half dead.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Boss :</span> C'mon guys.. show some spunk. V, who do you hate the most?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V : </span>My HOD<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss :</span> Imagine the ball to be her face and hit hard!!! Take revenge<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />V :</span> Ok<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Ball approaches. V hits hard. Misses boss's face by inches.</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Boss :</span> Wow... Are you sure you have the right person?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V :</span> Oops.. sorry<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Boss :</span> I like the spirit though.. keep it coming<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Twenty mins lapse. I am half dead picking up balls every other second. We decide to finish the game.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SbvhkZFqabI/AAAAAAAAAT0/kkZpQyxnwGA/s1600-h/DSC00191.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SbvhkZFqabI/AAAAAAAAAT0/kkZpQyxnwGA/s400/DSC00191.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5313088200739809714" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Too much TT .. After round 1</span><br /></div><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />V leaves</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">An hour passes. It's 5 30 pm. Time for snacks at the canteen. We decide to leave.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I :</span> Go tell the boss. We'll leave<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />M :</span> Why should i go? N, you go<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N :</span> Me? No chance. I'm scared. A?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">I :</span> No chance!<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">M pushes me forward. I push N. All of us end up in front of him with cheesy smiles</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss :</span> Yes?<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />We smile sheepishly</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Boss :</span> You can't leave, if that's what you are asking...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We continue smile widely</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss :</span> Alright... You guys can go.. this is like a picnic for you people!! What work you guys do, i don't know...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We sneak out, smiles still plastered onto our face.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We finish eating at the canteen when boss calls me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss :</span> Hey, are you guys around?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I : </span>Yes, we're here. Anything wrong?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss :</span> Can you come upto office? There's a mistake in the page.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I : </span>Ok sure.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">M leaves for home. N and I walk upto office.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss : </span>Where were you?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N :</span> Canteen<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss : </span>What? seriously?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I :</span> Yes<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss:</span> (adresses the entire office) Listen to this people. These girls come to office and go for lunch. Then come here and i give them pizza. Then again in the evening at 5 30 sharp they run away for snacks. Wow! Picnic it is. Boy, I wish i were like you. You girls are so lucky.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Entire office laughs</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We blush in embarrassment</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Boss : </span>I was kidding. Have fun while your here. Go on...<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">We walk down...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I : </span>Can we go have coffee?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N : </span>Again?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">I : </span>Why not?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">N :</span> Ok..<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">As we walk to canteen.. mobile rings.. its boss! </span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />We turn back run towards the exit!</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6383809400131047898?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-39617859719962680062009-03-13T23:03:00.001+05:302009-03-13T23:04:42.458+05:30Guys... thanks for ur prayers... and wishes.. i've gotten thru to symbiosis :) hehehe.. not that i tried hard... anyway.. u guys know what i did don't you ;)<br /><br />Either ways..<br /><br />I'M THROUGH!!!<br /><br />Now all i need to do is decide :P !!!!!!!!<br /><br />P.S Arv and Chris.. special thanks to u guys :)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-3961785971996268006?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-47145408955372068662009-03-09T19:19:00.004+05:302009-03-09T21:17:49.608+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/lowres/mfl0194l.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 308px;" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/lowres/mfl0194l.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Your father gives you directions...</span><br /><br />Hey all.. i wasn't around for a while.. and now i'm back... with another story on my dad ;) .. boy the stories just keep coming don't they.. not anything for him to feel happy about but still... :P<br /><br />Yesterday i had to go to the doctor (no no, not my dad.. another one) and i didn't know the way. My father prides himself in his directional skills and offered to tell me the way to the doc's place.. here's the conversation..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Do you have the written address?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> No<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>Do you know where it is?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> No<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Do you know your name?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I think so..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Don't irritate.. now i wil tell you only once.. listen carefully.. and repeat after me<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Don't irritate... now i wil tell you only once.. listen carefully.. and repeat after me<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(Dad gives look)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>Walk straight<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Walk straight<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Ok don't repeat after me. I will give you accurate directions now.. listen and if u get lost, call me on the way<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Done. Now give me the directions before he closes his clinic for the day<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Don't mock me or i won't tell you the address<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> sigh.... i give up<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Ok listen<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> .......<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>Walk straight<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> You already mentioned this part<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>Oh... then somewhere there take a left. Go staight one right will come<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Only one right ?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Actually many.. but you choose one. . then go down that.. there will be some supermarket.. i think near that will be a left turn.. take that.. keep walking and you will find his house on ur left... no right... actually depends which direction ur coming from.. hmmm..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> These are accurate directions?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>What am i? A GPS?.. i helped you best i could.. now scoot.. and call me if you are lost<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(Me gets lost in two mins.. calls dad)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Pa.. i'm lost<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Hello, lost. Is my daughter around?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>!!!!! Stop cracking jokes.. now tell me the way<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> How can i tell you when i don't know where you are?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I walked straight took a left and took a right.. now i don't know where i am<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>Which right did you take?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I don't remember<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>Then how can i help you? Is there a supermarket around there somewhere?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Umm.... no... not a big one<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Then come out of that right and take the next right..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Will the supermarket be in the next right?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>Only one way to find out...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Pa!!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>See.. first you don't listen to me.. then you don't follow my directions.. and now you shout at me after getting lost.. i'm keeping the phone now.. don't disturb.. i'm very busy...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Doing what?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> I found a chocolate bar in your room...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Don't tell me you are eating it!!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> I think i just opened it and put one half into my mouth<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Why are you stealing your daughter's food?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Cause i felt like stealing a candy from a baby..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Ok please tell me how to get to the clinic..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Ask people around for the supermarket dumbo.. now keep the phone.. i promise i'll send a search party if you don't call me back in half hour..<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Half hour later</span>... <span style="font-style: italic;">Dad calls</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Where art thou?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I don't know<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Still searching?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Yeah<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> I just found a packet of lays in your bag... <span style="font-style: italic;">(sings) </span>no one can eat just one<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Paaaa!!!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">END OF STORY</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Moral of the story: Never leave your room unprotected from a parent... Especially one that loves junk food as much as you do...<br /><br />P.S: I managed to reach the doc's clinic 45 minutes late..<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-4714540895537206866?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com44tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-12643513815408698672009-03-01T20:18:00.002+05:302009-03-01T21:19:42.358+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.maidenfans.com/imc/pictures/pictures13c_dotr/single40_trooper2005_small.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 350px; height: 350px;" src="http://www.maidenfans.com/imc/pictures/pictures13c_dotr/single40_trooper2005_small.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />If someone had told me three months ago that i would head-bang in public, in front of 3 full time rockers, holding a guitar made of paper, chart and cardboard (that kept swaying this way and that) and get called 'super' by one of them, i would have laughed to your face loudly.... very very loudly... infact i would have even laughing rolling on the floor!<br /><br />Our inter-department culturals have been going on the last two days... for which practices began a month ago.. which was why i wasn't to regular here... I will talk about two events here....<br /><br />1. Western Music.... We were required to sing a song on money... and we picked the best song we knew.. <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cF2AAMVd33I">'Rockstar' by Nickleback</a>... Its an amazing song :P<br /><br />Anyway... i was supposed to do the leads with another girl.. practice was on in full swing and we were sounding decent... and tada! on friday my throat decided i had sung enough and stopped working... it was so bad that one of my friend who called me thought my grandmother picked up my cell phone when i said "hello"...<br /><br />i waited and waited for it to get better... well... it didn't... and finally i decided to sing those lines 'in' between the leads (sigh... so much for my dreams!)... the following were my lines (sigh again.._)<br /><br />"so how you gonna do it?"<br /><br />"so what do u want?"<br /><br />"so what do u need" (how many times will he ask the same damn thing!)<br /><br />"I'll have a quesidilla ha ha!" (when i sang this i was actually really hungry and was asking the judges to part with their samosas.. which they didn't.. damn!)<br /><br />Anyway.. the song came out really well.. so much that he was singing along with us :P... and i discovered that my voice came back to normal as soon as i got off stage!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! bloody voice of mine.. i wanted to murder it.. so i went and had a cold coffee and a HUGE ice cream so that it goes off again!!!!!! What a traitor!!!!!! But its still the same! Sometimes, you have all the bad luck you can... actually.. we sang another song.. but i'd rather not talk abt that ;) ... hahaha.. let's just say... we sang 'zombie' and confused the judges so much that they were looking like 'zombies' at the end of it...<br /><br />2. Next event.. rock mime..<br /><br />We were required to mime a rock song with all the hysterics!<br /><br />We chose<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jgqxQmAbTBc"> 'Trooper' by Iron Maiden</a>.. it is again one of the best metal songs i've heard (and i haven't really heard many :P ) .... i had to play the lead guitarist who had to do so damn much!!!!! He even had a freakin solo that was so damn fast its over before you blink!!!! We bought Iron Maiden Tee's but we nevr practised :P<br /><br />The event was to begin at 2... we ran to a friend's place at 1 30 and started to listen to the song.. and i was just trying it out on a guitar that broke!! (it was made of paper and thermocol.. what do you expect?).. we stuck it with cellotape.. the vocalist and i had to do most of the parts in the song... and she was a metal junkie who was completely into Iron Maiden while i'm not.. i was beginning to get the feel of the song and like it when our friend called from college and asked us to run back as we had to go on stage.. so guitar, drums (made of dabbas covered in plastic bags) we ran from her house to college to the audi.. wondering what we were about to do...<br /><br />We had no make up on.. so we let others paint weird symbols all over us to give the 'rock' look.. i was still skeptical about the whole thing but our backdrop was soooooo sexy ( i think there's a pic of it.. i'll put it up when i find it) that we had to do justice to it and the person who drew it (Thoorika drew it like a bloody xerox!!! please applaud her!! She's been amazing!! Did all the 5 backdrops!)<br /><br />Anyway, we were last on stage and were waiting for our turn. All the departments performed really well and we had our doubts.. .but we went on stage let our hair down.. LITERALLY! We were head banging in moderation since too much headbanging and i would've been on the floor! During my solo i was so harsh to that frail thing that thermocol was flying around me from my hand as i was doing it :P (full snow effect only!)<br /><br />And the judges were from a rock band... and through out the damn song one of them kept staring at me so i couldn't even rest! So, i made a plan in my head... Everytime i wanted to take rest i showed my hand up like this > \m/ and everyone started screaming and i cheered them on for 5 seconds to rest my hand! lol! He liked that also i guess coz then he never took his eyes of me! During my solo he was laughing at the flying thermocol!!! nonsense! Does he know how difficult it is to play with an extremely fragile thermocol guitar that was swaying to the wind and bendin in my hand!!!!<br /><br />Either ways, after the song got over, the vocalist introduced us.. and when she said my name the guy who never took his eyes of me applauded and said "She was super!"... my day was done!<br /><br />AND WE WON 2ND PLACE!<br /><br />Not wanting to boast (hahaha) but modestly will say that alot of people said my guitaring skills were good.. and later when i stole the judge's mark sheet from my friend he had written (USP: Detailing - for the guitar) .. if thoorika comments on this post i hope she narrates my performance in the comments section (no teasing!!!) :P And yeah.. i was hang banging to glory.. now my head is banging back.. BAD HEADACHE and a SPRAINED NECK!<br /><br />Well, that's how the day ended.. now i'm sitting here super tired... my eyes are closing... everything is dimming... ahh! I've become a rockstar... now all i need to do is join a band :P<br /><br />Tata! Goodnight!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1264351381540869867?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com37tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-18235591751742210012009-02-26T00:37:00.003+05:302009-02-26T00:51:15.778+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/148/432301063_af6b827524.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 375px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/148/432301063_af6b827524.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Eyes follow my every step...<br /><br />Hush! I turn and they are there...<br /><br />At every turn of life they stare... unnerving... un-approving..<br /><br />I try to hide but there is no place...<br /><br />I try to ignore but they are always there... goosebumps go down my spine..<br /><br />Shhh! don't tell the others... but they are not sympathetic..<br /><br />My secrets are no longer mine... one good look and they're there...<br /><br />The eyes know them all... see them all..<br /><br />They see and tell... tell everything to the one place they shouldn't..<br /><br />And soon i'm exposed... exposed to my heart..<br /><br />A sense of numbness rushes in... my heart knows... she grows heavy...<br /><br />Everything is silent...<br /><br />but...<br /><br />My eyes... they see and they tell.. they don't hide....<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1823559175174221001?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-32452181671834465402009-02-23T16:29:00.004+05:302009-02-23T16:51:40.390+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.levonmusic.com/News/ChennaiAutoRickshaw.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 359px; height: 243px;" src="http://www.levonmusic.com/News/ChennaiAutoRickshaw.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Before i start this post, let me tell you that even as you finish reading it you may not understand why i titled my post this... well.. if u do understand, kindly let me know wat you understood.. understood? no? doesn't matter... :D<br /><br />This morning i was in a hurry get somewhere from college... and therefore decided to call for an autorickshaw than wait for a bus.. and so the rick came... a very enterprising young man sittin inside it.. it was still early in the morning and he looked fresh out to do business...<br /><br />I was in Nungambakkam and had to get somewhere near Coffee Day, gopalapuram, for which i normally pay a fare of Rs. 25; only. Sometimes i think even 25 is a sin.. but whatever.. here's how i haggled.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Anna, i need to get to dav school. How much will that cost?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> Give me Rs.60.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Rs. 60? To dav school or to buy the auto?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> Very funny, who'll give you an auto for Rs. 60<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I know. Who'll give you 60 till dav school?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Him: </span>How much will you give?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>25<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Him: </span>What? Petrol prices have gone up.. we have to go straaaaaaaaaaaiiiiighhhhhhhhhttt and take a uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu turn... and then go rouuuuuuuuuuuuuuunnnnndddd and come by a oooone way and then ....<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>First of all, petrol prices are down... second you dont' need to take a you turn anywhere or go roooooound the place. Do you know where it is?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> Of course.. i've been living here for 30 years.. don't insult my service.. of course i know where it is<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Then why are you building stories?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> Finally, how much will you give?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> 25<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Him: </span>40?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> 25<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> 35?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span> 25<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Him:</span> 30? Final.. or no need<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Ok bye, i'll find someone else<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> If i leave you near the school that's enough no? Why didn't you say that before ma, 25 is enough.. get in..<br /><br />I finally sit and the auto moves faster than a bullet... half way through near the junction he turns to me "Do i go straight?"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Yes<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">2 mins later...</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Him: </span>on the flyover or to the side?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span> Side<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">At the signal...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> Left or right?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Left<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">At another junction...</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Him:</span> Straight no?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>No, right<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">And then we reached the place...</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Him: </span>Madam, see i told you i know the place like the back of my hand!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-3245218167183446540?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-49740798054140249752009-02-19T20:13:00.003+05:302009-02-19T22:10:24.018+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://chrisbarton.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/holding-hands.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 474px; height: 348px;" src="http://chrisbarton.files.wordpress.com/2008/03/holding-hands.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />I'm a normal teenager. I have my mood swings, my anxieties but on the whole, i always thought i was a nice person. My marks were among the top, almost everyone in school knew me, i was next in line to become head girl and i was a part of any cultural activity the school took part in. In short, i was popular. But, i never knew one incident could change the way everyone including myself looked at me... I remember... the day i'll never forget as long as i live.. It happened in grade 7...<br /><br />It was a friday morning. A special one. The school had arranged for us to take orphans from a local orphanage to an amusement park. We were told that we would be paired with one kid each and we had to foster parent them the entire day. Their happiness was our responsibility. They had also requested us to bring food for the kids because it would be difficult for the organisation to arrange. I was excited. I had never done this before. I packed extra lunch, extra snacks, dressed myself in my favourite jeans and t shirt and left for school.<br /><br />My entire class was anxiously waiting for the orphanage bus to arrive and i sneaked up next to my best friend Divya and we began discussing what we had brought and how we wanted to go about the whole thing. When the bus finally arrived, we cheered. Little kids dressed in worn out clothes, either too big or small for them marched out obediently and the teachers began pairing us. Suddenly, something within me disappeared.. i was the last one in line and the teacher paired me with a tiny girl.<br /><br />She must've hardly been 5.. was dressed in a torn, ragged maroon frock. Her head was shaved and her fingers were dirty. She kept sucking her thumb. Disgust swelled inside me and i looked at Divya to see who she was with. Divya was handing out a rose to the cutest kid i had ever seen and as i looked at the girl (her name, she told me little later, was Gayathri) who was now snaking her little hands into my own, something burst. I didn't want this kid. She smelt funny, she sucked her thumb and held my hand with the same hand that was in her mouth a minute back. Her frock was torn at the back and she didn't seem to mind it one bit. I wanted the girl Divya was assigned to but i couldn't help it now.<br /><br />I drew my hand away from her and i saw confusion register on her face. I didn't care. Why did i land up with this girl? I looked around at all my classmates, smiling and talking to their own partners, all of whom seemed much cleaner and better looking. I regretted volunteering for the entire thing.<br /><br />We were told to eat some lunch before we proceeded for the park. We sat in pairs. I sat with Gayathri, wondering what to do wit her. I opened my tiffen box and gave her the other one. Mom had packed us different things. I had rotis and she had some kind of rice. "Can i have yours?", she asked me, her voice almost inaudible. "What?", i shot back rudely. "I'm not supposed to have rice. Can i eat what you brought?". "No. Eat what i got for you. What's your name?", i finally asked. Her eyes turned bright at the attention. "Gayathri. Your name?", she smiled at me. I didn't want to smile back. "Asha. Ok. Eat." The rest of the meal was finished in silence. Gayathri couldn't eat much so she had just a little and gave the rest back to me. Anger surged. She was wasting what my mother took so much effort to make. And i thought orphans knew the value of everything!<br /><br />We boarded the bus. She sat next to me and looked up expectantly. Everyone was already playing their role. Everyone but me. I looked away from her and stared out the window the entire way. I never looked at her wilting face even once.<br /><br />When we reached the amusement park, our teachers made it a point that we hold hands. And so, grudgingly i did too. Divya, her partner, gayathri n I stuck together the whole day. I was trying to push Gayathri onto Divya and trying to woo the other kid my way. I wanted the cute kid, not the dirty, mannerless one that was bestowed upon me!<br /><br />Gayathri watched everything in stunned silence. Once in a while, i faked a smile and tried to act normal with her. Divya accused me of being heartless but i waved her off. Once, I even caught Gayathri wincing when i tried to talk the other girl into sitting next to me. I knew she was hurt but again, i didn't want to care. I held her hand as loosely as possible and when she tried to tighten her grip i'd take it away immediately. I didn't know why i was doing what i did, but i couldn't help it. While Divya brought her kid toys, keychains and took her on every single ride, i didn't buy Gayathri anything. I got her a couple of packs of chips to make up for it and took her on a few rides that i found ok. Whenever she told me she wanted to go on a ride, i never listened. To put things in a nutshell, i was the bitch.<br /><br />Evening came soon and it was time to get back. I got into the van again, utterly drained and tired from the day's excitement. Gayathri sat quietly next to me. She looked lost and i wondered why. Halfway back, she complained that her stomach was hurting. Again i just nodded my head and turned back to the window. Two minutes later, i heard a sound and turned to see her vomit. She vomited all over my jeans. It was the last straw.<br /><br />I got up and screamed, letting out all the frustration. A helper from the orphanage who was travelling with us ran to me and apologised furiously. He personally cleaned up the entire mess and even cleaned my jeans. Gayathri sat in a corner, trembling... tears had stained her cheeks. But i still didn't care. I marched upto her and asked "Why did you vomit on me?" "I'm allergic to rice. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that to you", she said, her voice trembling with fear. "Couldn't you have turned and vomited? Why on me? You ruined my favourite jeans", i shouted back.<br /><br />Suddenly, a voice behind me said "She's a kid. Why are you scolding her so much? So what if you got a little vomit on ur jeans. It's clean now". I turned and saw Divya fuming. She ran past me to Gayathri and hugged her. "I've been watching you the entire day. What's your problem? Why can't you be nice to her? You've been ignoring her and trying to get Aishu to sit next to you the whole day! I've never met someone as mean as you! You can go sit with Aishu. I'll sit with Gayathri". My entire class watched and couple more came up and hugged her. I stood there, speechless. I didn't know what to say.<br /><br />As i turned away, a tiny voice spoke up strongly for the first time. "Don't scold akka. I love her. I can't help it if she doesn't like me. God made me like this and i'm sad that i'm not able to make her happy". A hand tugged at my shirt. "Please sit next to me. I don't want to sit next to anyone else".<br /><br />I turned around, and dropped down on my knees so that i was in level with her. "I'm sorry", i stammered. I had never felt so ashamed of myself. I had never felt like killing myself before. But such thoughts started to form in my head as i watched the little girl before me change me into a better person. I opened my arms and hugged her. She was warm, just like anyone else. As i let go, i saw a tear fall from her face. "Why are you crying?", i asked her. "I have been waiting for this moment my entire life", she smiled.<br /><br />It was the worst and the best day of my entire life....<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-4974079805414024975?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com23tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-41609226430520779422009-02-17T17:15:00.004+05:302009-02-17T17:50:26.722+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SZqqf7HGzrI/AAAAAAAAATM/v8aZuZO59qY/s1600-h/DSC00421.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 417px; height: 328px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SZqqf7HGzrI/AAAAAAAAATM/v8aZuZO59qY/s400/DSC00421.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303738976602345138" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Hey guys, sorry i've been away for a while.. and NOW I'M BACK! Vaish tagged me before i left to pune and never fails to remind me that i'm yet to take her tag.. so here is it vaish.. :P<br /><br />RULES: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged, including the person who tagged you (that's right, spread the joy). If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you. (.)<br /><br />MY RULES: Do not follow the last line...<br /><br />25 RANDOM THINGS ABOUT ELITHRANIEL<br /><br />1. I think.....<br /><br />2. I like to think....<br /><br />3. My brain doesn't like to think....<br /><br />4. Adding 1 + 2 + 3 = Thinking doesn't work for me ... btw i suck at math..<br /><br />5. I have OCD.. u'll find out why as you go on..<br /><br />6. I love my blog.. and the people who read it :P (except a few who don't comment... kidding!)<br /><br />7. I'm part of the female species of the human being race (though some may tend to think differently)<br /><br />8. I'm obsessed with wolves<br /><br />9. I don't know why i'm obsessed with wolves<br /><br />10. I love dogs... my dad doesn't.. so we don't have one! (sigh)<br /><br />11. My dream is to one day have 5 dogs surround my dad and watch his squirms with sadistic pleasure. Who wants a ferrari and a villa? :P<br /><br />12. I think chocolates are better than men (for various reasons)<br /><br />13. I never used to swear.... until i forgot a line in a skit and said "fuck" on stage into the mic. Now i swear like a drunken monkey.<br /><br />14. I'm in love with cars! I try to identify every single car around me when i'm out on the road.<br /><br />15. Elithra is an elven name that i rechristened into a wolven one :P<br /><br />16. I'm obssessed with alot of things.. for example the word 'obssessed'.. it has alot of 's'... i'm obssessed with the letter 's'.<br /><br />17. I have romantic fastasies with Calvin (Hobbes being nowhere in the picture)<br /><br />18. Spiderman was my childhood hero.. Now its Snoopy!<br /><br />19. Elithra the kid was stupid. She used to think exchanging rings during marraige meant women would get pregnant. Once when a guy friend pushed a ring through her finger, she spent the next month checking her stomach for signs of bloating.<br /><br />20. I'm an internet junkie.. in the sense.. all i ever do online is useless junk<br /><br />21. Misty was, is and will always be my fav nick name offline and now i am trying to campaign it online.. :P<br /><br />22. I rant alot! Hence, the name of the blog<br /><br />23. People think i'm reserved... if only they knew!<br /><br />24. I tend to erase all my first thoughts.. like right now i erased 10 sentences before i typed this one...<br /><br />25. I love my job :) (This is the only true statement in the entire post... kidding again.. not abt the part where i love my job tho )<br /><br />26. I confirm here that i don't know how to count!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-4160922643052077942?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-18665982007933889262009-02-08T14:47:00.003+05:302009-02-08T22:15:24.880+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img1.pictaero.com/2008/04/03/s/8459.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 511px; height: 309px;" src="http://img1.pictaero.com/2008/04/03/s/8459.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Yellows everyone... I'M BACK! not very successfully but in one piece atleast :) After 3 days of utter madness.. i'm here to unleash all those little adventures i had.... and boy, did i have some... anyway.. here they r..<br /><br />PART I - MUSINGS OF A FIRST TIME FLIER<br /><br />The last time i stepped into a flight... i was 3... of course, i don't remember anything about it except few vague memories of how it looked inside and how i remembered a guy laughing at me because i "looked cute reading a newspaper upside down"... the guy should try deciphering news when he's 3 yrs old! Anyway, after 16.5 (yes, i AM NOT 20 yet), i got onto a flight to Pune, kinda bummed that it was only an hour and half journey but wanting to have fun on it all the same!<br /><br />After a string of clumsy events (i won't mention what here for protection of what is left of self image) and my name being destroyed in the boarding pass, i boarded the flight and my friends N and P and sat down in peace... not for long though..<br /><br />There was a couple sitting before us... the guy must've been 60 and the girl around 30 max.. and it seemed they were on their 'honeymoon' coz the guy was all show.. putting his hands around his young bride... pulling her close.. and i guess it was her first flight coz he was buying everything that the air hostesses brought and made a show of loudly telling his wife that he wud do anything and give her whatever she wants (at this juncture, one of my friends literally choked).. also there were 3 arab guys in the row behind and they scared the shit out of another friend with their loud jokes and incessant chatter... "i'm not scared of dying on the plane.. but i'm scared of travelling with them", she commented later...<br /><br />Anyway, as the flight took off, the guy in front was busy showing his wife the sky and the clouds though none of us could comprehend what he was so intently showing her coz it was night and all we cud see was the dark night (not knight.. sigh :( )... P and I resigned to read a book in between his sweet nothings to his wife and the arab guys on-going chatter (which seemed to charm the air hostesses as it kept them giggling continuously).<br /><br />Half way through we felt the seats before us creaking. And N, who was sitting near the window, had an expression of horror on her face. Wondering what was wrong P and I peeped in front only to get similar expressions. The 'couple' in front was making out. Actually, it was more like the guy mauling himself on the woman! The poor guy sitting next to them was averting his eyes and trying his best to look away. And the worst part was that they were so loud even the arab guys heard it... well... you could imagine what happened after that..<br /><br />We didn't understand arabic but the loud smooching sounds those guys made sent us into fits of giggles causing the guy in front to turn red. Moreover, since he was chatting in hindi throughout the flight, we assumed he was a north indian and began jeering loudly in tamil.. we spoke loudly abt how irritating it was to hear people kissing in public.. i was only making comments silently but P went alot further and commented on how young his wife was and all... and at the end of the flight, just as we were about to move out of the plane, the man approached us..<br /><br />"Would you like some tirupathi prasad, since i see you are also chennai-ites?", he spoke in tamil offering us laddoo... P and my mouths dropped open... we were so embarassed we avoided eye contact with him the rest of the night until we ran straight into N's aunt's car that was waiting for us at the airport!<br /><br />P.S: The pilot on board when i went to Pune was super.. and even better when i was coming back.. the guy was literally singing with cheer at 5 in the morning, with most passengers fast asleep... "Prepare for laaaaaaaanddddddddinnnnggggg", he shouted, waking alot of them and making them grumble like crazy... he was spanish i'm guessing coz his accent was spanish and his name sounded spanish too though i've forgotten what it is... Since i was one of the two ppl who were still awake, i was likings his cheerful attitudes... :D hehe.. the last line was deliberate. Ok ta.. lots more to write.. will do so in the coming days<br /><br />P.P.S: Met Burkha Dutt :)<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1866598200793388926?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-69678822977170124922009-02-03T22:25:00.000+05:302009-02-08T22:16:13.851+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://ui09.gamespot.com/712/smilet_2.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 232px;" src="http://ui09.gamespot.com/712/smilet_2.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />If you haven' t read <a href="http://thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com/2008/12/when-you-arent-serious-about.html">this</a> post, then don't bother reading this one. On Dec 21 last year, i wrote my SNAP exam. Actually.. i hadn't bothered preparing for it. I saw friends buying books and doing sums the entire day and i also got thrashings from my dad for not moving an inch or taking the littlest of effort to get into symbi.. plain reason.. i wasn't really interested... i've lately lapsed into this dream of taking a year off and strumming the guitar in some dark room, singing with all my heart. Therefore, to make such vetti dreams come true, i didn't bother preparing.<br /><br />2 days before the exam, suddenly i started feeling guilty. Of course, there wasn't much i could do about it then but i felt bad for my dad, who had spent on the exam. So i studied. What did i study? Englipish :P ... i thought i could strengthen it enough to get some score coz i knew i was a big big 0 (Zero) in maths...<br /><br />On the exam day, i didn't bother and as i came out of the hall two hours later, i couldn't tell if the exam was tough or easy. While everyone around me discussed answers, i stood wondering what i had done during those two hours. I had a numb feeling inside. A sudden thought washed by me. I saw people around me who wanted to get into symbi and i hadn't even tried. Fear emerged like a ghost of an old urban legend and i got out of the centre soon, coz i didn't want to lapse into a depression about my future.<br /><br />When i got home.. my dad was waiting with a set of prepared questions to shoot me with. "How was it? Did you attempt everything? Will you get thru? What's the cut off?"... i didn't answer any of his questions and went to my room. "Did you do that bad? No hope eh?", he asked me and i smiled. I guess he knew i wanted to be alone and so he went away. I shook my head and let it go...<br /><br />When CAT results were out recently a couple of my friends, who hadn't prepared either, didn't bother too much about their dismal marks. They are smart girls and if they had got well below their cut off, i decided my score was going to be in negative.<br /><br />Finally, SNAP scores were also out. People were messaging, asking for their scores. I didn't bother. I thought i'd check my score privately in the safety of my home, when i got back. But a friend of mine had checked it in class and it soon spread everywhere!!! I got a 53... 53 more than i had expected. When she called to gimme the news, i didn't believe her. "Are you kidding? How did you know my number? Did you check the name? It can't b me!" was all i could muster...<br /><br />And yes, i have been shortlisted for the GD and PI for which, again, i haven't bothered preparing.. i had to do 6 interviews and a plan for a one day event, which again i haven't finished and i'm leaving tomorrow night.. GOD SAVE ME! Well... we'll see what i come up with.. i seem to have an uncanny knack for cooking up good stuff at the last minute...<br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"><br />Anyways this post was basically to tell you guys that i'll be off blogger till sunday.. I'm flying to pune tomorrow night.. wish me luck... i'll post my symbi escapades then... until then its... TA TA...TAKE CARE FOLKS.. n DON'T FORGET ME.. i'm talking as tho million ppl read my blog.. what sadness and vettiness i must have in life :P hehehe..</span><br /><br />P.S: Vaish.. i'll take ur tag when i'm back<br />Arv and Chriz.. thanks for the help :) if i get into symbi its partly coz of you guys too :P<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6967882297717012492?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-4772914825086129692009-01-30T21:25:00.002+05:302009-01-31T21:05:36.010+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/rbo/lowres/rbon399l.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 193px; height: 365px;" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/rbo/lowres/rbon399l.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">You travel on a bus with a sprained ankle</span>...<br /><br />This is an experience of a lifetime.... Everyone should try this someday. The recipe is simple. Fall down a flight of stairs and as you hit the ground, twist your ankle. Voila! A spained ankle in the flash! After this, book two interviews at two different ends of the city to keep you busy and decide to continue doing them both even though you can't stand.<br /><br />This is what happened to me couple of day's back. I limped my way from college to the bus stand (YES, I had a sprained ankle)... my itinary was simple... i had to take a bus from college.. go to another stop.. take another bus from here.. reach a stop half an hour away... take the subway there... and take a share auto to the office where i was interviewing the guy... and things went wrong from the very beginning..<br /><br />When i reached the bus stand out of college, the bus i wanted never came and i was already running late.. so i took an auto to the other stop.. there the other bus i wanted came.. it was empty and i was happy to find a seat where i could comfortably sit for the next half hour. As luck would have it, the bus broke down two stops later... fine... "bad day", i muttered to myself.. waiting in that stop for another bus.. another one came... it 'looked' empty and i got on it to find myself the ONLY PERSON standing in the entire place... every seat was occupied and i couldn't really sit anywhere.. my ankle was giving me alot of trouble on top of which everytime i looked at the people sitting, i turned green.<br /><br />I think the driver had taken a shot or two of tequila coz that was kinda apparant in the way he was driving.. the bus swayed left and right, making me sway alot more violently on my bad leg, causing me to yelp in pain every other minute.. not that anyone there cared. To top this irritation off, there was a girl with external speakers attached to her phone, playing LOUD irritating music. Why was is irritating? Cause she was sleeping and the phone was playing away to glory! Even the song wasn't good!<br /><br />Three stops later, couple of people got on. And as they walked past me, they made it a POINT to step on my WOUNDED leg so as to keep reminding me that it is still injured. I wanted to scream a thousand obscenities at them but of course, i couldn't!<br /><br />Everyone who has travelled in a Chennai bus must've done social service.. you have to pass tickets and money from one end to the other... and it so happened that a lady's money got lost and I WAS THE LAST PERSON SEEN WITH THE CHANGE. God.. i first thought she had lost hundred rupees or so because she was screaming to that effect. Later i learnt that she had lost 'FIFTY PAISE!'. Oh what a tragedy! I got so tired of being yelled at that i gave her Re. 1 in return, wherein she effectively shut up and never gave me my change! Should've been my turn to shout but i didn't mind losing 'FIFTY PAISE'.<br /><br />The conductor in the bus was the worst 'irritator' of them all. When he saw me limping on the bus, he asked me "What ma? Have you hurt your leg?"... "Yea", i told him, happy that someone cared to ask. "Ok ma, move little bit to the right. people are coming in no", he smirked, and all the gratitude i initially felt went away and i wanted to wipe that smirk off his face permenantly. And this was not just once.. every other minute he would ask me to move this way or that and watch my painful dance in the most ruthful way! God, i wish i could see him now.. i'd just... i'd just..!!!!<br /><br />Apart from all this hallaballu, just as i was standing a tad comfortably, two kids kept running up and down.. worst yet, kept running around me too! I wanted to shake them vigorously and say "Can't you see some people can't even stand here? And your running about!" but they were too cute and i had to keept quiet :P<br /><br />Finally the bus was about to reach my stop.. just as i was feeling relieved, the bus got into a burst of speed and stopped one stop ahead of mine, leaving my with a painfully long walk to the subway! WHAT A DAY!<br /><br />And yes, it was an experience... you should try it too!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-477291482508612969?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-50483523057730587592009-01-29T21:52:00.004+05:302009-01-29T22:35:04.397+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.prompt-communications.com/impromptu_weekly/images/itunes_classroom_cartoon.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 439px;" src="http://www.prompt-communications.com/impromptu_weekly/images/itunes_classroom_cartoon.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Your class is as cranky as you are... </span><br /><br />My class... journalism final year... are a cranky lot... and we were all at our heights today in our current affairs class... here's a taste of what happened... we were answering for a few questions she had given us yesterday.. of course.. none of us really knew what answers we were giving.. here's proof<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer:</span> What is lord swaraj paul's achievement?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Enthu student 1 (ES):</span> He became a 'Lord'<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Who give him the title?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ES1: </span>The queen<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer:</span> Which queen?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ES1:</span> Queen of England, o course.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Name?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />ES1:</span> Her highness<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer:</span> High-ness only. Who is the special representative appointed by Obama to pakistan and afghanistan?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ES2: </span>Richard Hallbroke<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Why for pakistan and not india?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ES2: </span>Because Obama said so!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Name 5 women achievers<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(R sleeps)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>R, get up. Name a woman achiever<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">R: </span>Mahendra Singh Dhoni!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Are you even in the class?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">R:</span> Yup. I'm sitting right in front of you<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Ok. Next. What is ESMA? <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br />*points at poor me, sitting silently*</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*Me gets up*</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Essential Services Maintenance Act<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Why was it used recently?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />*Me turns to Rash, "Pssst! You never wrote that part"*</span><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Well? I'm waiting<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Me: </span>Uhh.. akshully<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>What? Lorry? Yes yes, right answer. Sit down.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*Me sits, completely bewildered*</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Next. What is January 24 celebrated as?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Class: </span>World girl's day...Girls rock.. yay! we are amazing.. the government has done the right thing... super... whooo hooo!<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Uhh.. sorry to disappoint you girls but its International Girl CHILD's Day..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Class: </span>Cha.. just miss!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>What is SWAT?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES3: </span>It's a place near the border of afghan and pakistan...<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>It's in pakistan. What's happening there?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES3: </span>Well.. the army there are shooting guns against people who are fighting against them and they are fighting for...<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>It's been Talibanised!<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES3:</span> Exactly what i wanted to say ma'am<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /></span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer:<span style="font-style: italic;"> </span></span><span style="font-style: italic;"></span>Which country recently celebrated 50 years of independence?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES4: </span>SRI LANKA!<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Lecturer: </span>WHAT?! Who did they get independence from?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES4: </span>That, i don't know ma'am.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Lecturer: </span>Oh god! And you call yourself a journalism student.. your wrong<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES5: </span>NEPAL<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Nepal got democracy last year!<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES5: </span>Oh yeah, no. sorry, confusion.<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>What other places are there?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Class: </span>India, Pakistan, Bhutan, Myanmar, Italy, America, Africa *A says "I'm sure its some darn african country that we don't know about!"*<span style="font-weight: bold;">, </span>vietnam, cuba<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>I HEARD THE ANSWER SOMWHERE?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />Class: </span>India? Bhutan? Cuba?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>CUBA!!!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Class:</span> YES, YES ITS CUBA!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Which actor recently joined politics?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES7: </span>Sanjay's butt.. i mean.. dutt<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>What did u say?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES7: </span>Sanjay Dutt.. Samajwadi party ma'am <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>Who is sister Nirmala?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES8: </span>Didn't she get baptised?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span>That was sister Alphonse..<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES8: </span>Alphonse is a kind of mango..<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span> Why are you saying something totally disconnected?<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />ES8: </span>I'm trying to figure out why a mango would be baptised while a nirmala would not<span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br /></span><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer: </span> I'm getting out of this class!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">ES9:</span> Is that a question?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">*Lecturer stomps out!*</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-5048352305773058759?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-27125107801307999772009-01-27T18:37:00.002+05:302009-01-27T19:51:19.408+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.boredandevil.com/cast/bio24.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 288px; height: 350px;" src="http://www.boredandevil.com/cast/bio24.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Before this post starts, i would like to write a small disclaimer. All incidents mentioned below are true and any reference to other dad is purely coincidental. It is just a way of getting back at my dad :P haahaha.. oh yea, i finally told my dad that he is becoming famous on my blog.. his first reaction was<br /><br />"WHAT HAVE YOU WRITTEN ABOUT ME?"<br /><br />I tried explaining to him that it wasn't all that bad but he was convinced that i had made him a villain of many a sob story. When he finally read my blog (only one post.. u can't be too careful with parents around!), he said with a glee<br /><br />"HEHEHE Not bad, i'm the hero of your post. You made me sound witty and made yourself sound dumb.. i like that"<br /><br />Of course, i didn't show him the other posts where it was the other way round.. :P then i wouldn't be able to continue writing here..<br /><br />Anyway.. most of you guys would be scared of your dad.. especially when he gets angry.. now, if u take me.. my dad's anger is kinda funny... i mean.. anger itself is not funny.. but the way dad behaves when he is angry.. MY GOD! i literally ROTFL.. not in front of him o course.. or i'd end up with a black eye.. but i do control my laughter alot when he gets mad...<br /><br />I will give you certain incidents... and thou shalt also be part of my jokes.. o course.. not his...<br /><br />The other morning.. i woke up late and was lazing around with a book in hand.. it was dad's cooking day and he was turning the house upside down. As i waddled in and out of the kitchen, coffee mug in one hand, book in the other... he saw RED<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Early morning all you want to do is sit with a book. Why can't you help?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> What do u want me to do?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Bring those baskets inside. we need to clean them<br /><br />(Me takes baskets inside kitchen)<br /><br />Dad stands at sink cleaning tub and asks me to clean baskets in the sink! I leave them nearby and go to loo so that sink is free when i come.<br /><br />As i come back..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>Why are these baskets here? Take them out.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> You told me to bring them here<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Now i'm asking you to take them out.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Ok<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> WILL YOU LISTEN TO ME?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Am i not doing that?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Then why are you still standing here?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Because you are still talking<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> OUT! I SAY OUT!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Me in running motion:</span> YESSIR!<br /><br />Another incident happened when i was driving.. yes oh yes.. my dad gets FREAKING mad when i drive.. because he thinks i can never do anything right.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>Put the brake<br /><br />I brake<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> Why are you breaking?!!? You want us all to die?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Didn't you just ask me to brake?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>If i ask you to brake, you'll brake is it?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Huh?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> What kind of driver are you? You should trust your own instincts. Not others. If i say jump in the well will you jump?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>No<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> You won't? That means you have no respect for me. You need to learn to listen to what your elders say<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>WHAAAAAA!!!!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> YOU ARE TALKING BACK TO ME?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>Gulp!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad: </span>TALK TO ME. WHY ARE YOU SILENT<br /><br />Me bangs car into a tree<span style="font-style: italic;"> (This part is fictional, seeing that im' still alive)</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Porky pig:</span> That's all folks!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-2712510780130799977?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-84281645372379123212009-01-24T22:15:00.000+05:302009-01-24T22:15:34.041+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.bizarroartist.org/gallery/cache/bizarro/left-handed.jpg_550.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 523px; height: 232px;" src="http://www.bizarroartist.org/gallery/cache/bizarro/left-handed.jpg_550.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />For all you right handers out here... i would like to tell you that i exist. Yes, you probably know that already but this world is a frustrating place for left handers... I will cite out some instances right from my childhood that has had me fuming BCOZ THE WORLD IS RIGHT HANDER FRIENDLY and ignores the needs and aspirations of the left handed population. Why so much fumes? Read on..<br /><br />Oh by the way... if u haven't guessed by now...... i'm left handed... :D<br /><br />When i was a tiny little girl who was learning to write a,b,c,b (shit.. d.. i mean.. i still confuse the side on which the curve should come.. right handed chauvinism)... my aunt was trying to make me right handed.. she would sit with me and try to make me write A with my right hand but i always threw the pencil on her face (lovingly.. i was a kid no) and told her i couldn't write.. then one day, magically i wrote 'a, b and c' with my left hand.. and from then on i was christened a left hander... the 'one who wrote with the other hand'... my parents tried to make me write with my right hand.. but i couldn't even hold a pencil in my right whereas i was already writing poetry with my left<br /><br />excerpts from my LKG poem<br /><br />Ga ga gu gu gum..<br />I have a bottle of rum.<br />Now i drank it and want to piss,<br />Oops.. my parents just saw this..<br /><br />So you see, not many people were appreciative of me being in the elite group of people who could write with their left hand. But it made me popular in school. Teachers and students used to pause and watch in awe, the way i turned my book upside down and wrote whatever i did. Now, the problem began when i started doing everything with my left hand...<br /><br />I used to eat with my left hand too.. right up to my 4th std until my father one day taught me the realities of life.. actually.. taught me alternative uses of my left hand. Since then, i have accustomed myself to eating with my right hand..<br /><br />So... there i lost the freedom of eating with my left hand but became ambidextrous. Only in eating. I still can't hold a pencil with my right hand!<br /><br />In this world, everything is so right oriented. Right from the scissors to the vegetable skin peeler.. I CAN'T USE ANYTHING BECAUSE THEY ARE MADE FOR RIGHT HANDED PEOPLE!<br /><br />Even during exams.. i was always the one with the right hander desk. I would then run behind the teacher, fight, lose time.. get a left hander desk only to discover that there's only ten minutes left before i had to submit my paper... sometimes, i would decide to bear the brunt.. i would twist and turn in the chair only to make the invigilator think i was copying (when i wasn't!) ... so i'd get thrown out of the room or land up with a bad back ache after three hours of sitting at very uncomfortable angles.<br /><br />EVEN BENCHES WERE A PAIN. I remember how i was made to sit between 2 right handed boys during an exam. Apart from hitting my hand every other second, both of them had one main aim; to not let me write my exam. One guy would complain about the number of extra sheets i kept asking for and the other would ask to write with my pen.. and when i took another one to write.. he would ask for that.. and later admit that he wanted to write with the pen i wrote to see if he could write with this left hand! And if i turned the paper sideways by 90 degrees, both of them would shout in protest, thereby making me temporarily deaf! This was why i never did well in my exams! (I wish my dad would read this!)<br /><br />Someone had told my uncle that left handers are dumb. So, he would spend hours teaching me random stuff... only to find me completely disinterested and half asleep. The same person had also told him left-handers were good at art. He didn't consider writing an art.. so he decided to teach me to draw.. thinking that i had some inborn talent that is sleeping.. the talent wasn't sleeping.. i was.. when he shoved a paper up my nose and demanded that i draw.. no matter how much he taught me i could still only manage a cat with an '8' figure and a very sad version of micky mouse.. that looked like something out of 'ET'.<br /><br />At home.. everything was and is right hander friendly. I can never cut with the scissors (the blunt side faces the paper when i use my left hand) and never peel vegetables.. my dad thinks i use this as an excuse to refrain from doing work! He should try peeling vegetables holding the peeler upside down!<br /><br />Also, when you write exams, people stare so much at your hands that the lecturer invariably thinks they are trying to copy out of your paper.. if only she knew what i was writing.. and how connected it was to the question..<br /><br />Another thing about me being left handed is the painful jokes that my dad cracks at me.. he is someone who takes pleasure out of my pain.. so whenever he needs to cut something here's our conversation;<br /><br />Dad: Can you cut this strip of paper<br /><br />*I give him sarcastic look*<br /><br />Dad: Well?<br /><br />Me: Don't you know i can't cut with the scissors?<br /><br />Dad: Try..<br /><br />*Innocent me takes scissors and tries to cut.. it doesn't cut*<br /><br />Dad: Hehehehe... left handers are supposed to use the 'right side of their brains'.. i guess that's difficult for you, considering you don't have any.. no wonder your not able to use the scissors and you claim to be 20!<br /><br />*Me seeths*<br /><br />Dad: Go peel that carrot<br /><br />*Me turns red*<br /><br />Dad: Oh, i forgot.. you can't do that either<br /><br />*Dad continues laughing for the next ten minutes*<br /><br />*Grandma walks in*<br /><br />Grandma: Why are you laughing?<br /><br />Dad: She calls herself an adult but can't cut a paper with a pair of scissors!<br /><br />Grandma: Why?<br /><br />Dad: Because she's a left hander! Hahahahaha<br /><br />Grandma: Hahahaha *As though it is the funniest joke she has heard in ages*<br /><br />Me: Even Obama is a left hander.. someday, i will become someone great like him.. then you won't laugh<br /><br />Dad and Grandma : HAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... This is the funniest joke i've heard in ages!<br /><br />*Both laugh as i walk away, mental images involving hammers and nails*<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-8428164537237912321?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-34563288165629299832009-01-22T19:51:00.003+05:302009-01-22T20:39:00.236+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/tzu/lowres/tzun875l.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 355px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/tzu/lowres/tzun875l.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Today i was bamboozled by a tiny tot (Rashmi) to write a verrrry diiirty post (hahaha).. she wanted me to include her name and so i take this as a means of teasing her thru my blog..She threw me very comical (scary, according to her) looks when i teased her in class today.... and this is my revenge (muhahahahahaha.. you don't know what i am capable of, rashmi)<br /><br />We were in Event Management class (UPDATE: I CHANGED FROM MATHS TO EVENT MANAGEMENT.. BEST DECISION I'VE EVER TAKEN IN MY LIFE) and one of our classmates was called to read out a case study... Rashmi and i were sitting together, lost in thought (as usual, when you co-relate this with me) when she started reading out the case... i will include our conversation along with the study...<br /><br /><br />An event planner was asked to plan a woman's 40th b'day<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> why would a woman want to celebrate her 40th b'day.. she's not getting any younger</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> You are right.. maybe her hubby is doing it.. </span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span> even then, the only way the party would be remotely interesting was if it were a skinny dipping or nude party!</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> Pervert!</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me: </span>You watch no.. that's what it's gonna be)</span><br /><br />The woman's husband <span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me and rash: </span>Ah!) </span>wanted a party that would be unique<span style="font-style: italic;"> (<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I told you)</span> and memorable not only for his wife but also for all who attended it<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Confirmed.. nude party only.. how else would it be memorable? </span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> Yup.. you are right! Nude party it is)<br /></span><br />He was thrilled with the idea of a luncheon harbour cruise<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Skinny dipping! Hahaha<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash: </span>I swear.. imagine forty year olds skinny dipping.. yuck!)<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>That man is very thrilled also.. what a pervert he must be.. poor wife.. he's just using her birthday as an excuse to look at other old women<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> Like that's any consolation<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I don't think he has better options)<br /></span><br />The planner was to arrange for the boat rental and catering and decorate the boat on the morning of the party.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> What theme would he choose?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> The 70's?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Rash:</span> But nude/skinny dipping and the 70's?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me: </span>Yeah.. that was the time when Saroja Devi's one piece swimming suit was popular in tamil cinema.. </span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Rash:</span> They had swimming suits then?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span> Of course.. but wait, I forgot.. they don't need swimming suits here..</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Rash:</span> Whaaaa? Oh yeah....)<br /><br /></span>As it turned out, there were three complications. The weather. It rained and so they could not use the top deck<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Me: </span>My economics teacher in school used to tell us that weather affects.. uh.. you know.. apparently there is a lot of 'slip between the cup and the lip' during tropical weather</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Rash:</span> You mean?</span> <span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span><span style="font-style: italic;">I mean what you are trying to mean</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Rash:</span> Top deck?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span> Are you thinking what i'm thinking?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> Oh man!)</span><br /><br />of the boat <span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash and i :</span> oooooooohhh!) </span>which was wonderful <span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash and i:</span> ROTFL) </span>but only on a sunny day<span style="font-style: italic;"> (<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash and i:</span> Oooooh again!) <span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span></span>The limitation meant that the downstairs area became quite crowded. <span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash and i:</span> Ahhhh! Crowded?How crowded? *giggles*).<br /><br /></span>The harbour was also quite choppy and a few felt sea sick because of the swell<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> Swell? Sick? Ahh.. early stages...</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span> Ahaaaa! Rash.. i thought u were a kid</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Rash:</span> I know all this ok...</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Ok, really? Then, quiz. Why do crickets do it at night?</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> Huh?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span>Thought so. Useless</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Rash:</span> Ok, tell me why?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span>Because there is a night watchman to help with their privacy (haw haw haw!) :D<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash: </span>AAAAAAAAAAAA.....THU!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Thank you thank you<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lecturer:</span> Why are you both laughing?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Us:</span> Uhh... *flashing smiles* nothing ma'am)<br /><br /></span>The thing that the planner really hadn't thought through carefully enough was the needs of the children who accompanied their parents.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> Oh my... kids! I wonder what they went through</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span> Would have learnt biology at an early age</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> How funny! </span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me: </span>They should've hung a board outside the boat saying 'Above 18 only'</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> Maybe they got it wrong and hung the 'PG' board.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Me:</span> Possible!)</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span>The older ones were just bored<span style="font-style: italic;"> (<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash and i: </span>Obviously.. why would they be interested in 40 yr olds?) </span>and not difficult to manage. The toddlers were a disaster. Mothers were on the run all afternoon keeping up with their toddlers who wanted nothing more than to climb over the rails <span style="font-style: italic;">(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash and i: </span>Probably plotting escape routes from the boat. Poor kids!)<br /><br /></span>By the end of the afternoon it was the mothers who were ready to throw themselves over<span style="font-style: italic;"> (<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash and i :</span> I wonder what they saw!)<br /><br /></span>Finally, the cruise lasted too long - long enough for some of the party to drink too much and long enough for others to get desperate for dry land <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />(<span style="font-weight: bold;">Rash:</span> Any comments?<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> None at all!)<br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-3456328816562929983?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com30tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-72750997896242819222009-01-20T23:39:00.002+05:302009-01-21T00:19:43.041+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.polkatotsllc.com/images/Diary_EnglishRoses.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://www.polkatotsllc.com/images/Diary_EnglishRoses.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Have you ever read someone's personal diary? I have....<br /><br />Last night just as a friend and i were going somewhere, i noticed her car had some 20 plastic balls in them. Curious, i questioned her about it.. and she said it was for some aerobics competition in college and their exercise moves were done with the balls (stop thinking pervert here) ....<br /><br />She went on to tell me how they had a similar drill in grade 8 in school and just as she mentioned a particular red skirt (not underwear, SKIRT), both of us remembered how, when we were in school, we committed a grave sin; reading someone else's diary.<br /><br />When you are in your teens, especially if you are a girl, parents tend to get mighty snoopy. I remember the days my dad used to watch me like a hawk. It lead to the revelation of many things... like how i used to 'study' with a novel under my physics/chemistry text book, my loo breaks that were actually phone breaks that lasted an hour or two.. how 'going to tuition' meant going sight seeing, street by street (believe me.. i have chased a frnd who chased a boy down three streets only to be bitten by his dog.. not me.. her), how 'combined study' meant everything but studying and 'night study' meant me lying face flat on the book, fast asleep at 11 p.m ( i notice it is midnight as i write this).. how 'meeting a friend' without mentioning her name meant i was meeting a guy... 'will be back in 2 hrs' meant it would take me 4 hrs or more... yes, i have educated my dad a whole lot... now he's an expert at it...<br /><br />Similarly, one of my friends then had entrusted me with her personal diary, coz her mother was snooping around and this girl had writing alot of 'personal' stuff in it... And it sat there in front of my eyes.. the forbidden fruit.. many a time my hand would reach out to touch it but i always kept my promise of not reading it.<br /><br />All this determination went for a toss when one day the friend i met last night came home. We were completely bored and had nothing to do. We couldn't think of anything to talk about. And we were looking at that diary... our pupils were dilating and we didn't blink so long that our eyes were literally watering..<br /><br />"What if..."<br /><br />"We shouldn't"<br /><br />"Have you touched..."<br /><br />"No, not yet"<br /><br />"Do you want to?"<br /><br />"Tempting as hell"<br /><br />"Shall we?"<br /><br />"Should we?"<br /><br />"Just one peek"<br /><br />"You think that's possible?"<br /><br />"Just one peek.. c'mon.. not like she hasn't told us anything right.."<br /><br />"Yeah.. still you know her.. you think we should?"<br /><br />"I think we could"<br /><br />"Ready?"<br /><br />"1...2....3...Go!"<br /><br />And we lunged for it... hungry 'wolves' (note the point here :P ) devouring their meal. We read page by page and would you believe it? Our mouth dropped open half way through...<br /><br />We traveled two years of her life.. written graphically page by page (one of which i recently found when i was cleaning my room!) , and realized how different people weigh different things. There were instances that we had just brushed off, that had been very important to her... little things that we did or didn't do that had impacted her life.... love stories we didn't know of... and there was also certain amount of stuff written about us :P ... stuff that was not very appreciative ... we assumed she didn't understand us and didn't know us that well....<br /><br />We gulped it all down in one swallow, hungry for more. We had entered secret territory and we planned to indirectly jab her with words from her diary later on. She wouldn't know that we'd read it of course and she wouldn't understand the significance behind our taunts. We were excited....until we came to one particular page... that said...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">"Will you stop reading it already?"</span><br /><br />The book seemed to snap shut by itself. Both of us went pink and we looked at each other; embarrassed. Our friend knew us very well after all.<br /><br />She had mentioned the red drill skirt in one of those pages and last night both of us knew what the other was thinking.<br /><br />"You think...?"<br /><br />"What do you think?"<br /><br />"Maybe we should have..."<br /><br />"Does she know?"<br /><br />"I don't think so..."<br /><br />"Should we?"<br /><br />"I think we should"<br /><br />"Ready?"<br /><br />"1...2..3...Go!"<br /><br /><br />P.S: She is yet to talk to the both of us :) hehehe<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Statutory Warning:</span> Reading a friend's diary is harmful to your health and is highly addictive (harmful when she finds out about it and kicks you in the gut, that is)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Issued in public interest...</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-7275099789624281922?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-33682603307298739732009-01-19T20:37:00.004+05:302009-01-19T22:18:13.275+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.mediabistro.com/agencyspy/original/curious.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 308px; height: 301px;" src="http://www.mediabistro.com/agencyspy/original/curious.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />After much in-depth analysis and research, i have finally found out what makes you guys curious about a blog post..<br /><br />1. Title a post saying 'How to make a blog reader curious'<br /><br />2. Continue to not talk about it in the second point<br /><br />3. Make people wonder why you are bullshitting by the third point<br /><br />4. Decide to tell readers here that curiosity killed the cat, for no apparent reason<br /><br />5. Give the climax away in the fifth point. Go on to point 9<br /><br />6. Wonder why people haven't shifted to point 9<br /><br />7. Write irrelevant random sentence in point 7. I had a chocolate mousse for lunch today.<br /><br />8. Think about writing another random sentence in point 8 and decide against it as people would have shifted to point 9 by now.<br /><br />9. Suddenly experiment with writing style and turn a romantic, making people chew their brains between what is fact and fiction.<br /><br />10. Write two utterly romantic love-failure posts and arrange (pay) someone to comment saying "I KNOW WHY THIS POST HAS BEEN WRITTEN", increasing reader curiosity and making them believe it is real life tragedy when the comedy is on them :)<br /><br />P.S. Some of you had told me you like the new me... are you sure you do? Coz she's not even remotely romantic and tends to make fun of anything and anyone around her.. psst! it could be you... :P lol<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-3368260330729873973?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-63291033769272005222009-01-17T21:47:00.002+05:302009-01-17T22:07:24.545+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://s.mynicespace.com/myspacepic/509/50939.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 396px; height: 397px;" src="http://s.mynicespace.com/myspacepic/509/50939.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Baby, you said that i have changed...<br /><br />But i'm still wearing the t shirt you gave me for my birthday six months ago... The jeans i used to wear then... Your watch...<br /><br />My hair is still the same.. maybe a little longer... so my face and everything else...<br /><br />I still write with my left hand... i still eat with my right...<br /><br />But yes, i see changes...<br /><br />You didn't smile when i sat next to you, like you usually do...<br /><br />You refused to look me in the eye when you spoke.. like you usually do...<br /><br />You fumbled as you shifted gears... You are usually more steady<br /><br />When you left me home, you didn't say 'bye'<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Baby, you said that i've changed... who are you? I don't recognize you anymore</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6329103376927200522?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-14654091022347492712009-01-16T19:31:00.005+05:302009-01-16T20:12:05.675+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/230/502936471_3ee270d3bc_m.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 205px; height: 314px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/230/502936471_3ee270d3bc_m.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />The sea is dark.. calm waves lap at my feet..<br />A tidal waves churns inside me.. tears flow freely... i hug myself.. i feel cold<br /><br />Knees buckle, flop down, my heart too heavy and I lose myself in the oceans' rhythm.<br />It's over but i can't get over it.. in my mind i want you to go away.. but my heart knows.. it wants you to stay..<br /><br />My fingers play with the wet sand and before i realise what i'm doing, they write your name.. clear and bold... embossed and engraved.. a tear falls on you... your name.. it smudges it a little.. blurs it.. past my tear-filled eyes...<br /><br />And, i smile.. i know what to do...<br /><br />I stay a few more minutes and then get up..<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I walk away and look back just once to watch the waves wash you away... your name away...</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1465409102234749271?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com21tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-5104363587036265162009-01-15T19:42:00.003+05:302009-01-15T20:21:55.973+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://awareness.cc/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/paper_coffee_cup1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 276px; height: 276px;" src="http://awareness.cc/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2008/05/paper_coffee_cup1.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There was a point in my life when i hated coffee and tea.. i still hate tea.. but that is a different issue.. the current issue is... my recent addiction to coffee.... When i was interning in Deccan Chronicle couple of years ago, the place didn't have a canteen (i'm not sure if they have one now either.. but that's besides the point) .. all they had was a coffee/tea vending machine. Since i have not packed lunch for myself in years, i maintained my policy of not taking food to office too.. the problem was, the place was tucked in a corner somewhere in the outskirts (by the way, this has nothing to do with skirts or jumpers or bloomers if you are having such thoughts) of the city and there was no place to eat nearby.<br /><br />I was interning there with three other classmates who used to bring food but somehow they never bought anything interesting from my point of view (i hope they don't read this). I spent days filling my stomach with coffee after coffee, basically because i hated tea much more than i did coffee. Anyway, i remember how i used to stare at the full-time reporters who ordered (which we weren't allowed to do) amazing food from some arbitrary restaurant, eating them in robust, finger licking et all. Anyway.. i dunno why i'm talking about that here.. must have something to do with my growling stomach...<br /><br />After that particular internship, i haven't had much coffee except some afternoons at the place i'm working now.. and a few random visits to coffee day.. (Remember the bill from my previous post :P ok i'm getting way out of league here)...<br /><br />Recently.. for the past couple of weeks or so i've developed an addictive hobby....... drinking coffee... WHEN BORED, OPEN CUP'BOARD'...yes, that is my mantra.. and yes, the coffee is in the cupboard.. not anything else.. so yea.. i hav a coffee in the morning and one.. no sometimes even two or three in the evening.. and then i get high and walk like a drunk maniac charged with energy but tired mentally.. ok that is so not making sense...<br /><br />Anyway.. i was meeting couple of friends in Citi centre today and guess what i had? Coffee.. yes.. and i don't like black n scalding coffee...yet... but i'm having thoughts of shifting into that domain in the near future.. and my cuppa came scalding hot.. which i did not notice because i was too busy breaking my phone (my memory card has gone bonkers u see)... and i took a 'shot' of coffee.. and right now i'm typing this because my tongue has turned black and refuses to make sounds.. and i've been conversing with my dad through paper and pen.. and sms..<br /><br />Well.. after burning my tongue with scalding black coffee... i somehow managed to finish it.. since my tongue had already numbed and i couldn't feel or taste anything after that... This was my third coffee for the btw.. and i was literally panting when i finished it...<br /><br />I swaggered, took the cup and went to throw it in the dustbin when i saw something that made me crush the cup and stamp it alot before i threw it in..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">WARNING: MAY CONTAIN HOT BEVERAGE</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-510436358703626516?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com42tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-58665293663914478572009-01-14T10:54:00.004+05:302009-01-14T11:47:48.107+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.fotosearch.com/bthumb/ART/ART223/LZM070.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 238px; height: 299px;" src="http://www.fotosearch.com/bthumb/ART/ART223/LZM070.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />There is a strong urge to reach beyond...<br /><br />Stronger than an iron grip...<br /><br />A fire that refuses to be doused...<br /><br />A yearning that wills to be quenched but not yet... not until it is time...<br /><br />A dream that refuses to lose its on going fight with reality....<br /><br />Determination that looks up at the biggest obstacle and says "piece of cake!"<br /><br />Courage that wakes up from somewhere within, trying to suppress the ever-present fear...<br /><br />Memories that strengthen it all together...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Hands reach up to touch the stars...<br /><br />Eyes follow and guide...<br /><br />Suddenly there is a blinding light...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Eyes stagger...<br /><br />Hands are thrown off course...<br /><br />The fire is being flushed...<br /><br />The dream fights a losing battle.. reality threatens to take over...<br /><br />Determination lets out a tear and shakes its head... there is no voice anymore..<br /><br />Fear shadows courage...<br /><br />Eyes close... everything is dark...<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />And then... slowly... there is a shadow above the eyes and they relax...<br /><br />Eyes open, shaded by love... they are shone more brightly than before..<br /><br />Hands are guided by an unknown force.. they are right on target.. they reach up and touch the blinding star... light and power unite...<br /><br />The fire fights back, ever raging...<br /><br />Dreams become reality...<br /><br />From behind, a voice speaks with a smile, "Piece of cake!"<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-5866529366391447857?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com22tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-61884494499050549642009-01-11T21:46:00.003+05:302009-01-11T22:26:25.724+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.elfwood.com/art/e/r/ericaallen/shy_pixie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 373px; height: 323px;" src="http://images.elfwood.com/art/e/r/ericaallen/shy_pixie.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />This is a rambling.. i wanted to tag it under 'rant' but i just remembered that i never tag my posts.. weird.. it must've something to do with my memory that switches off a odd times.. hmmm.. anyway.. let me get to the point..<br /><br />I was munching on Subway food a couple of days back... i always have my sub with extra extra extra jalepenos (i can't spell that and spell check shows 'penologist' as an option!?) and no olives with an extra serving of all sauces. Why am i telling you this? I don't know.. just a piece of unwanted information.. rotfl.. actually im having a craving for a sub now.. ok ok ... lets focus again.. i was ordering my sub and i suddenly started giggling to myself. Couple of my friends who were with me gave me a quizzical look but i went on giggling, dismissing their looks wit my hand.<br /><br />The giggling continued as i tasted around ten flavours of gelato before choosing 'ferrero rocher' (did i atleast get that right? yes, another piece of unwanted info.. i'm full of them today) and my friends started to get worried. But i couldn't bear to tell them the reason behind my giggles. So, i'll write them here.<br /><br />I have changed alot, i told myself. I was sinfully shy a few years back. I couldn't talk to anyone new. I couldn't even look at them. My grandma used to tell one of my friends to take care of me whenever we went out and i couldn't even bargain with an auto guy! She thought i'd never be able to talk to anyone of the opposite gender. I was horribly shy. I was too self conscious and i couldn't crack a joke for nuts (hahaha.. :P do u recognize me now?). The maximum you could get out of my mouth was a 'hi', which would sound like it was coming from a 100 feet deep well.<br /><br />The reason i jumped from subway to my shyness is because of a particular incident that happened few years ago. My aunt had flown down from aussie to spend a week with us. The both of us went shopping at Spencers for an entire day and at the end of it my stomach was growling so loud, even she could hear it. I'm usually ok with her, but i had my inhibitions as usual. I couldn't eat in front of her, for some reason. I thought it was rude. That was the time subway was unheard of as they had 'just' opened up their spencer's outlet.<br /><br />My aunt, being from aus where subway was already popular, asked me if i wanted to try it out. I said 'ok' because i didn't know we had to 'go up to the counter and customize the order'. When we entered and she asked me to go take my order and explained to me how it worked, i freaked out! I was so shy that i didn't want to talk to that stranger behind the counter, about my order. My aunt kept pushing me towards the counter and i kept running back. How could i go talk to the guy behind the counter? He was a stranger and what would i say to him? And i'd have to talk long, since i had to customize the order and i just couldn't do that! What if he thought something about me? What if i say something wrong and he laughs? I didn't want a stranger laughing at me.<br />I didn't know anything about subway and i didn't want to get embarrassed in front of her either. Finally, i pulled her away from the place.<br /><br />Another time, my cousin was visiting us and i took him to citi centre. He wanted to try the gelato and i, who was shy around him (since i didn't know him well) went along, deciding not to try anything there. As soon as we reached the stall, he started trying out different flavours and i stood by him, tempted as hell. He saw me looking and asked me if i wanted anything and i politely refused. He then forced me to pick a flavour.<br /><br />I didn't know any of those flavours again and i was too shy to ask for a taster in front of him. I asked him to pick a flavour for me. He looked at me with absolute horror and hasn't spoken to me since then (lol.. i'm not kidding about this one). He regained his composure and again told me to taste some and choose. But i just wouldn't. I kept telling him to pick a flavour for me until he got tired of me and blatantly refused to. How could i ask that guy for a taster? What if i pronounced the flavour wrong? What would my cousin think of me?I shook my head vigorously but he finally managed to coax me into tasting a few flavours and select one. I spent the rest of the evening letting the ice cream melt and 'nibbling' at it cause i couldn't eat in front of him.. that was until he asked me..<br /><br />"Are you going to finish that or what?" .. talk about being nice!<br /><br />Well.. coming back to the present.. i think of how i make a fool out of myself everytime i come here because i keep making the guy add more and more jalepenos until he tells me i'm going to choke to death, keep askin for every single sauce they have and then change my mind and make him do everything all over again in the last minute. If i'm with a gang of girls, that guy might as well sit with a towel on his head.<br /><br />Gelato has now become a free service for me. I make it a point to taste every single flavour and sometimes i don't even pick any. But being the nice person that i am, i always remember to thank the guy for the free tasting session before i give him a huge smile and leave the place, leaving him awe struck and full of curses.<br /><br />Sighh.. how life has changed...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6188449449905054964?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-72715132772683550712009-01-08T19:53:00.003+05:302009-01-08T20:06:56.800+05:30By <a href="http://abhisheksim.blogspot.com/2009/01/tagged.html">Abhishek</a><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1.If your lover betrayed you,what would be your reaction ?</span><br />Ans: Hey, we're even at last! And i thought i should feel guilty.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">2. If you have one dream which could come true,it would be?</span><br />Ans: One where i have superpowers :)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">3.Which one do you prefer-ice-cream or chocolate ?</span><br />Ans: CHOCOLATE! CHOCOLATE!<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">4.What would you do with a billion dollars ?</span><br />Ans: Build money castles, dump it in a tub and take a billion dollar bath... and i can think of few more things :P<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">5.Can you fall in love with your best friend ?</span><br />Ans: Not if they're of the same sex (because i'm straight)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">6.Who is more blessed-loving someone or being loved by someone ?</span><br />Ans: Being loved. That way you get showered with gifts and u never pay when you go out anywhere (muhahahaha.. yea am a bitch)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">7.How long would you wait for someone you love?</span><br />Ans: Until he comes and then screw his case for makin me wait so long...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">8.If the person you like is secretly attached,what would you do?</span><br />Ans: Secretly attached? to what? a magnet? I would try to pull him away... no technically i'd attach myself to it to.. actually.. i don't know what i'm saying..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">9.If you could root for one social cause,what would it be?</span><br />Ans: Increasing teenagers pocket money.. i think its a very important social cause. There are so many teens below the poverty line<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">10.What takes you down fastest?</span><br />Ans: A fall?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">11.What according to you is blogger in denial?</span><br />Ans: Me... :D<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">12.What’s your fear ?</span><br />Ans: waaadder (american slang)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">13.Your opinion of the persons who tagged you with this.</span><br />Ans: good blogger buddy :) .. revert to previous post for more<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">14.Would you be single &amp; rich or married &amp; poor ?</span><br />Ans: Single n rich... :D<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">15.What is the first thing you do when you wake up?</span><br />Ans: Open my eyes.. or try to... coz usually i'm still very much sleepy and they refuse to open<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">16.If you fall in love with two people simultaneously, whom would you pick?</span><br />Ans: Can i pick both? since i love them both? or would that be a big bother?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">17.Would you give all in a relationship ?</span><br />Ans: All what? i need to know specifics b4 i commit myself.. i don't share my soft toys...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">18.What’s eating you now ?</span><br />Ans: Nothing's eating me.. i'm the one who's continuously gorging on something.. right now on chips..<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">19.Do you prefer being single or in a relationship?</span><br />Ans: Both... in equal propotions<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">20.Tag 6 people.</span><br /><br />RULE 1: People who are tagged must write their answers to the tag and change any question they like.<br />RULE 2 : Tag 6 people and they cannot refuse to do this tag. They must write who tagged them and cannot tag that person again. Continue the game.And I hope it will be sheer fun.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">TAGGED:</span><br /><br />Kitty<br />Multimenon<br />Iyshu<br />Arc<br />Vidya<br />Gerimox<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-7271513277268355071?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-52285020214415794592009-01-06T19:27:00.006+05:302009-01-07T13:14:01.647+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i276.photobucket.com/albums/kk38/Rarestar/Thank%20You/WolfMoonRiderThankYou.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 346px; height: 247px;" src="http://i276.photobucket.com/albums/kk38/Rarestar/Thank%20You/WolfMoonRiderThankYou.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I can't believe i missed my 100th post! Dam.. how stupid can i get? So, i'm using the 101th... i mean 101st post to write what i should have written in my 100th post. Dam those numbers! They always confuse me... now you know why i was cribbing about taking maths as my IDE!!!!! Anyway... my blog turned 100 yesterday and i didn't notice (don't cry, dear bloggie, at least i am only 24 hrs late.. yes yes i know u want to delete yourself and disown me but you don't push the buttons here... i do... sorry)...<br /><br />For my 100th post, I wanted to thank all those people who've actually read my blog regularly... and so here i go.. i'll try to be all senti and mushy.. pardon the humor, if there is any :)<br /><br />Before i thank all you guys individually for keepin me going.. i'd like to say i wouldn't hav bothered coming so far if i didn't have your comments and your feedback :) I thank all of ya from the bottom of my socks *that is now black in colour* for your support. I will try to remember and mention each one of you. In case i forget.. please ping me and i'll add you here.. please pardon my crappy memory<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Here's the list :)</span><br /><br /><a href="http://moonlightnmagnolias.blogspot.com/">Iyshu</a> - She is my blog maathe! She made me start the blog, helped me with the basics and has continued to read my blog along the year :) I lowe you iyshu... thanks for readin up no matter what crap i write and you always have a comment (except on a couple of occasions, for which i forgive you! :P ) . You are not only a great commenter online but also offline in class when i bug you as you immerse yourself in Harry Potter. And remember the post we wrote about each other?<br /><br /><a href="http://vannilavidya.blogspot.com/">Vidya</a> - This gal is super.. comes in flashes and gives amazing comments. Her blog updates somehow never show on my blog roll and i keep complaining that she doesn't update though she does. I'm sorry about that :P She is very keen on asking me if i update my blog and comments on posts she finds funny.. if she doesn't find them funny (Which is most of them), she doesn't comment! Sigh..<br /><br /><a href="http://www.chronicwriter.com/">Chriz</a> - My very first blogger buddy :) He's super funny.. amazing fun to talk to.. keeps pulling my legs.. someday my legs are gonna come outta and then it will HIT him! Anyway.. i love his comments tho i keep retorting back. And he always has a kind word or two.. and i'd say something else about him here but he'll kill me.. so i'll keep quiet :P .. Thanks for being a great friend :)<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Sindhiya</span> - Now.. this chick is someone i really have to apologise to. She has given the best comments on few of my posts till date. Somewhere along the line, i shoo'ed her away from my blog.. and she has point blank refused to come back again. *Gets down on one knee and yelps in pain* i'm sorry sindhiya! I hope you will become my follower again :( Missing your comments here.. really...<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Swetha</span> - This gal is silent reader. She will screw my ass if i don't tell her about any updates i make on my blog. And she thinks i have a great sense of humor ( which i think i don't).. anyway.. she comments when she wants to and they're always nice comments :) Lowe u too ma<br /><br /><a href="http://thoorika.blogspot.com/">Thoorika</a> - This child will NEVER change. She s my CNB - Chief of Nonsense Bureau :P I keep tellin her also to update her blog but she keeps askin me for ideas to write on! Like i write on ideas.. i write from the bulbs i get everyday.. and her comments are always mean and sarcastic! I'm kidding.. keep readin mine gal.. even if u don't update urs.. and write more love stories ;) hahaha<br /><br /><a href="http://devilstalk-nan.blogspot.com/">Nandhini </a>- This DOG will never update her blog. She is THE MOST LAZIEST person i've ever met. She s an amazing writer but she thinks she's mediocre. She's good at sarcasm but she thinks she can't make a joke. She USED to read my blog. Now she doesn't. Nonsense gal. Do come back :)<br /><br /><a href="http://letterstomayank.blogspot.com/">Mayz </a>- This guy's poems are MIND BLOWING. I'm a really BIG BIG fan of his poems. He just hits you right on target. He's also an amazing blog friend... keeps insulting my hindi.. but that's ok.. because i don't know hindi.. by the end of this year i'll make sure i know more than you :P Besides.. i'm three generations younger than u.. like u said.. hahahaa<br /><br /><a href="http://arcsandrainbows.wordpress.com/">The ARC</a> - My blog THANGACHI... who is 5 months younger to me but talks like she's 30. This gal is another amazing amazing writer. Is frustrated with college.. like me... and is jealous of my job :) hahaha.. lifts me up when i'm down and puts me down when i'm up.. kidding ;P is currently mad at me as i haven't commented on her posts.. its ok thangachi.. i will do so<br /><br /><a href="http://lokpria.blogspot.com/">Lokpria</a> - She reads my blog whenever she can. She's a brilliant political analyst. Hope she maintains her blog according to her passion :) Lowe u maaaa<br /><br /><a href="http://vipsdontlie.blogspot.com/">Vipasha </a>- She will comment on posts that pertain to her only :P hehehehe.. Vipasha.. please please update ur blog.. u probably won't read this post anyway :P<br /><a href="http://arcsandrainbows.wordpress.com/"><br /></a><span style="font-weight: bold;">Pratap</span> - This guy never comments on the blog. Cause everytime i ask him to comment he'll comment in my chat window instead! Bloody talented designer.. does all my college projects for me :P and tells me i rant in style.. lol.. thanks for reading :)<br /><br /><a href="http://ouchmytoe.com/">Jammy</a> - I am his official biggest fan, coming in toe with Chriz who would have married jammy if he could have. This guy is hillarious and he's damn sweet. 'India's funniest blogger' :) I have nothing but respect for him. Honoured that he reads my blog too :)<br /><br /><a href="http://almostsunday.blogspot.com/">Rakesh</a> - There are two rakesh's who comment (the 's is wrong there i know)... want to thank both of them for reading my blog :) nice to have you guys here :)<br /><br /><a href="http://multimenonwrites.blogspot.com/">Multimenon</a> - Has a super blog. I love the way he writes. And he's my newest blogger friend ;) Thanks for reading man :)<br /><br /><a href="http://abhisheksim.blogspot.com/">Abhishek</a> - Super sense of homour (changed) ;).. and he always comments nice things on my blog.. :P that's y i like him.. hehehe..<br /><br /><a href="http://alaktus.blogspot.com/">Vikas</a> - The other IIT boy... genius in the making.. also keeps pulling my leg.. :) Thanks man..<br /><br /><a href="http://kittykampf.blogspot.com/">Kitty</a> - Calls me Val Helsing for some reason. Nice blog friend.. gives honest comments :) Thanks<br /><br /><a href="http://bblurts.blogspot.com/">BBlurts</a> - Thanks for readin my blog :)<br /><br /><a href="http://rassumfrassum.blogspot.com/">Swati</a> - She reads posts now and then.. radical feminist.. love her comments.. thanks dude<br /><br /><a href="http://keshigirl.blogspot.com/">Keshi</a> - You're absolutely brilliant.. :) Thanks for readin my blog<br /><br /><a href="http://gerimox.blogspot.com/">Gerimox</a> - Thanks for the comments :) Keep reading my blog :)<br /><br />I hope i've mentioned everyone. Others who've read my blog also have my thanks.. just ping me if i've left our ur name.. i'll add it asap! :)<br /><br />Yes yes, a very mushy post.. violation of another resolution :P hahaha.. Thanks guys! You rock! :)<br /><br /><br /><span style="text-decoration: underline;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-5228502021441579459?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-90828581908350502672009-01-05T19:55:00.004+05:302009-01-05T20:51:17.922+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://kingp1n.com/bloggerphotos/Seekingachange_9846/WantChange_thumb.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 321px; height: 422px;" src="http://kingp1n.com/bloggerphotos/Seekingachange_9846/WantChange_thumb.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />This is a very famous dialogue. By a very famous person. Senator and soon-to-be president Barack Obama used this mantra to win the election. Unfortunately, though i've been using this (in singular form mostly), i haven't been able to do anything, let alone make a nation vote for me! I know you are probably wondering what i am talking about. Let me elucidate.<br /><br />I used this dialogue and was subject to this dialogue twice today. And in all the below explained cases, my action plan and my strategy failed to work, though the magic words were used. Maybe i should ask Obama for tips *thinks with finger on chin* ... anyway, let me tell you what happened.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Scene 1</span><br /><br />This morning, i realized as i opened my purse that there were only bills inside it (as always). I found a year-old bill for a coffee treat i had hosted, a bill for a t shirt i bought few months back and balance statements from my ATM. Yet, however hard i searched i could not find a single RUPEE in my purse. I scavenged, turned my purse upside down and even stamped on it, hoping i could feel some money but i couldn't. Now, the problem with asking my dad for money is, HE WON'T GIVE ME ANY. "Why do u ask me for money when you earn?", is his question. He does not understand that the needs of a teenager cannot be filled with just a stipend she earns from a part-time job (which she tries to save also). I can't blame him. He gives me Rs.200 a week, which i finish in two days.<br /><br />Anyway, i approached him while he was getting ready this morning and told him "Change i need". He blinked at me. "What?", he asked. "I said Change i need". "What did i do now? Everything's fine. What change do you need? If you want me to stop dropping you in college that's fine. But i fear by the time you reach your class, half of it will be over", he replied coolly. I had to think fast. Of course my dad had to drop me! Or i'd miss half my classes everyday. It's tough to reach on time when you wake up at 7:30 a.m. sharp (note that point) for a college that starts at 8 a.m.<br /><br />"Did i say i want you to stop dropping me? Don't assume things. You men always assume things. Why do you think i want you to stop dropping me?", i retort. "You women always talk in parables. Why don't you stop wasting time and tell me what it is you really want? It's 7:45 already", he said. "I need change", i said truthfully. "What? There you go again. Why can't you talk in english?". "I thought i was talking in english. Give me some change!", i shouted. "Change? What? Oh, you mean money? What can't you use the term 'money'? First you quote Obama, now you change it into change.. i mean.. money... are you okay?", my darling father, who is also a doctor, had suddenly had doubts about his daughter's sanity.<br /><br />"So, do i get the money or not?", i asked.<br /><br />"No. Use your own", came the reply.<br /><br />"This is the change i need. I mean... the situational change. I need you to start paying for me again", i told him.<br /><br />"Do you want change as in money or change as in situation?", he asked again<br /><br />"Can i choose both?"<br /><br />"No, actually, you can't choose either. I'll take you to the atm", came a smart reply.<br /><br />So much for my witty dialogue. And so, that story ends.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Scene 2<br /><br /></span>I was sitting in class today as the lecturer was distributing the papers of exams i don't even remember writing. Anyway, i got decent marks and i was wondering how she liked my answers as i had not only used every single flamboyant word i knew, i had also uses phrases and idioms like 'Every cloud has a silver lining' in my answers.<br /><br />No, it was not my english paper. It was in fact my 'current affairs' paper. I hadn't known much about any issue but i somehow managed to score more than i expected due to use of 'such' phrases in my paper.<br /><br />Anyway, my lecturer, who i suspected did not even know me by name, approached me suddenly and told me "You! You have done well but need to improve". I was startled. Not because she was talking to me. But because i was in the middle of an important discussion with my friends and she interrupted me! But, i quickly regained composure and managed a "Huh?".<br /><br />"You need to 'change' and improve your writing skills", she told me. "Ok ma'am. Change i need and change i shall", i told her. "I expected more from your paper. You are doing well, but the writing part, i'm not too satisfied with. You will need to 'change' your style to suit the answers well and give an objective editorial type answer", she instructed me. I nodded vigorously, surprised at the marks she had given me if she had so many problems with my writing skills. She seemed unperturbed by my lack of response to her advise.<br /><br />The words "CHANGE YOU NEED" were written all over her face as she continued to stare at me, probably expecting me to reply. (No, the words were not painted across her face in black ink, though that would've put across the message much clearer. I guess we can only interpret thoughts through facial expressions until that happens)<br /><br />"I'll 'change' my writing style ma'am. Will surely do a much better job next time", i replied, not knowing what else to say. She nodded, smiled and turn to walk away.<br /><br />Suddenly, she turned back and asked me,<br /><br />"WHAT IS YOUR NAME? I'M SORRY BUT I'M NOT FAMILIAR WITH YOU"<br /><br />I could only imagine who that lecture was actually for.<br /><br />All my dialogue and my zest had gone waste, yet again :(<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Statutory Warning: The following incidents are all true and are not meant to make anyone laugh. It is sad humor and any laugh that comes out of it is purely coincidental.<br /><br />Statutory Warning for the Statutory warning: The statutory warning was not meant to be funny either. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-9082858190835050267?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-1526434491522178472009-01-02T10:45:00.002+05:302009-01-02T11:25:07.925+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.ac-nancy-metz.fr/enseign/anglais/Henry/resolutions-angusandphil.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 354px; height: 359px;" src="http://www.ac-nancy-metz.fr/enseign/anglais/Henry/resolutions-angusandphil.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />After a 2 day hangover due to pizza mania (u'd probably know what kinda 'hangover' it was), i'm back to welcome the new year :) This is my 98th post. A couple more and my blog post writing turns 100! Oh man, even blogs get old i tell you, it's so sad.<br /><br />Anyway... I usually never take resolutions, mainly because my brain forgets it the moment i make it. Absent-mindedness personified! Since i'm jotting this one down in my blog, i won't forget, hopefully (unless i forget my blog of course!). Anyway here are my top ten resolutions for 2009.<br /><br />1. Sssssstttttt..........ooooopppppppppp eeeeeeeeaaaaaatiiiinggg ughhhhhhh........... JJUNNNNNK FOOOOOODDDDDDDD .. .Ahh i wrote it at last.. my brain was sending alerts to my fingers to stop me from writing this line but i managed to make it... uh... understandable.. now, the only left is to follow it.. sigh..<br /><br />2. Tattoo all those things that i must remember to do everyday, Ghajini style. With a brain as warped as mine, i don know how i manage to remember to brush my teeth every morning (wait! I don think i did yesterday...... and today.... SHIT!)<br /><br />3. Instead of KALPANA WAS MURDERED tattooed like a chain on my chest, i shalt tattoo I WISH MY HOD WAS MURDERED *in case some hitmen are giving new year discounts or helping others for free*<br /><br />4. Stop insulting my dad on my blog... this is a tough one... since his image here is already tarnished... i dearly hope he doesn't read this.. I don't think i can ever STOP doing it.. i'll try to reduce it this yr :P<br /><br />5. I will try to improve my murdered english. I was readings the 10th standard diary of mees sometime back and I HAD THE BETTER ENGLISH THEN THAN NOW... Showings what an undergraduate degrees in journalism doings to u!<br /><br />6. Try to start reading non-romantic un-sappy novels. 2008 has been a mushy year for me. I don't know what has happened to me. I must've read 10 or so love stories with tragic endings! Oh man, i've resolved not to step into unknown territory this year. *hehehehe*<br /><br />7. Dreams on fire.. I'm currently listening to that song from 'Slumdog Millionaire' (Which by the way is an AMAZING movie.. please watch it) .. anyway... i'm planning to set my dreams on fire this year, since i'm graduating and haven't still figured out what i want to do in the future. Ok this does not literally mean setting my dreams on fire... though that would conjure really funny mental images.... oops.. anyway..<br /><br />8. Learn Hindi. Due to a sudden influx of hindi speaking friends and examination questions based on hindi films and political groups, it's time to arm myself with hindi skills to effectively battle and bull shit them all *shoots from toy gun and blows out the smoke from the front, hollywood style* If you can't beat them, join them!<br /><br />9. Stop swearing! Oh man, i've become this swearing machine. I just HAVE TO SHUT THE F*** UP... oh SHIT! .... >>>> YOU SEE WHAT I'M TURNING INTO? I NEED TO RELAX... AND RELAX... MEDITATION.... CHILL... CHILL... CHILL... CHILL... WTF AM I DOING? (sigh.. this is going to be tough)<br /><br />10. SMILE... I'm gonna use this weapon alot more often than i usually do. I'm gonna smile no matter what. Like my HOD once told us "You have to learn to smile and say NOOOOOOO". So the next time she asks me to get coffee for the guest lecturer i'm gonna smile and say NOOOOO<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-152643449152217847?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com20tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-58562174277231063602008-12-31T00:00:00.000+05:302008-12-31T20:36:23.141+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.netwrx1.com/%7Ediamond/dtdesigns/dt120applicuts/CW%20happy%20new%20year.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 432px; height: 322px;" src="http://www.netwrx1.com/%7Ediamond/dtdesigns/dt120applicuts/CW%20happy%20new%20year.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I'm sitting here extremely high on pizza. (hiccup!) Man, i thought my appetite was gone and i just hogged as though there is no tomorrow today. And here i am (hiccup!) sitting in front of the computer (hiccup!) thinking what the hell i am (hiccup!) doing here. I should probably be snuggled under (hiccup!) the covers since my eyes (hiccup!) are drooping but i can't leave without writing a post (hiccup!) for HNY... yeah.. i don't know why everyone's got a short form for New Year!<br /><br />I was chatting online with my cousin today and suddenly he asks me "What plans for NYE?". My first reaction: Which football tournament is that? (hiccup!) no no.. it must be tennnis... or cricket? (hiccup!) I decided to safely reply "None. Your plans?". He says "At my friends place". I blink again. NYE at friends place? So, it's happening in Australia (he lives there btw) and he's gonna watch it. (hiccup!) I ask him "No party plans for new year?". "I was talking about the party at my friend's place", he replied (hiccup!). What? (hiccup!) Football tournament in his friend's place (hiccup!) and he's having a party? (hiccup!) And then it HITS ME (hiccup!) REAL HARD. NYE - New Year's Eve. (hiccup!) (hiccup!) (hiccup!) (hiccup!) (hiccup!)<br /><br />*Drinks water*<br /><br />So that's what NYE means. There was a point when i even thought it had something to do (hiccup!) with New York *giggle* (hiccup!) See what i mean? Yeah u see the number of hiccups (hiccup!) that have come up during the post. I know its impossible to get high on pizza (hiccup!) but i've managed to make it possible (hiccup!) I'm not kidding. I just put my headphones (hiccup!) on my head and told my poor friend who was sitting next to me "oh so that's why they're called headphones". (hiccup!) She almost called 911 (read, my dad) but i managed to stop her (hiccup!) before the line got through (LOOK! I MADE A JOKE!) (hiccup!) Ook, before someone else calls my dad, i shalt wish you all a <span style="font-size:180%;">VERY VERY VERY<br />HAPPY NEW YEAR :)<br /><br />Thanks for reading my blog. This thanks does not authorize you to stop reading. Continue reading it right through next year too, until i thank u again :P (i made another joke! i can do this shit too)<br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-5856217427723106360?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-66958238935278693892008-12-30T09:29:00.005+05:302008-12-30T09:45:44.688+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://lfc.ab.ca/images/Wolf-Moon2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 356px; height: 356px;" src="http://lfc.ab.ca/images/Wolf-Moon2.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />This is a poem i wrote about myself in my first year of college for some project. They wanted us to do a self portrait of a different kind. For all of you who've wondered why the hell i associate myself with wolves, here's your answer :P (Yes yes, i'm coming out in the open about it)<br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >A pale reflection looks back at me, <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >From the crystal clear water at my feet.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >The story unfolds at this very place,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >I suddenly move back, my legs in retreat.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >I turn away and look around,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >My home, the jungle, in all its glory.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >I strain to hear, but there is now no sound,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >So I shall pause and tell you my story.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Not long ago, a cub was born,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >So sleek in frame, Mystique was her name.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >The one who gave birth did not live very long, <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Leaving her alone in a world so untamed.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >She grew up a fighter, she won so many,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Yet inside she missed what mattered most.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >She watched many packs and fished out many schools,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >But she didn’t feel alive, she felt like a ghost.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Her feelings, she learned in the hard way,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Would not help her live in her home today.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >So she put them away, and moved on;<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Her whole life was ahead, to herself she would say.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Years later she looked into the pond, <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Her eyes had a glow she had never seen before.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >She looked at the moon and sang her song,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >She had grown into a legend, of many a folklore.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Her eyes could see where no one can.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Her nose could trace out the slightest smell.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Her ears could hear from far, a land.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >And her legs could run afar so well.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><o:p></o:p></span><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><o:p></o:p></span> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Her mind works fast, she must survive,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Her heart in unison, she will live.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >Her eyes shone courage and a commitment to try,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >And her heart so strong, to none she will give.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" ><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >This is my life, and now you know,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >And I shall go on, and my story shall grow.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:130%;" >I am a warrior, I must win each fight,<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span style=";font-family:Garamond;font-size:14;" ><span style="font-size:130%;">I am the wolf that howls every full moon night.</span><o:p></o:p></span></p> </div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6695823893527869389?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-24727508336738624222008-12-29T11:16:00.002+05:302008-12-29T11:39:42.755+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images-0.redbubble.net/img/art/size:large/view:main/1449634-2-silhouette-of-man-stood-by-tree-overlooking-manchester-city-centre-at-night.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 509px; height: 381px;" src="http://images-0.redbubble.net/img/art/size:large/view:main/1449634-2-silhouette-of-man-stood-by-tree-overlooking-manchester-city-centre-at-night.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I finally managed to clean my room yesterday. It took me two whole hours to set things straight in this messy little place and i found papers and papers of my really old poems. There were ones i wrote in school.<br /><br />Back then i was called 'The Poet' :P because we had an exercise in class where one person had to come read their favorite poem everyday. And being the 'outstanding' students that we are, almost everyday people would forget to bring their poems and queue up in front of me. And during break i'd sit and write them one which they would read in class. The teacher would be bewildered and ask them who the poet was. And they would point at me. Ahhh.. what fun :P<br /><br />This is a love poem i wrote in my 10th i think. It's bad and please spare that 10th kid who thought she could write :P . Ok shy is coming. But i'm brave enuf to publish this on my blog :P<br /><br />I've got some 2 or three. I'll release them one by one. Here's this one.<br /><br />My love, he stood right in front of me,<br />Those eyes that captured every-<br />moment, i wished that i could see,<br />But i couldn't; the irony.<br /><br />For the last time i looked at him,<br />I reached out and touched his face.<br />An ocean of questions i had to swim,<br />To not cry and win this race.<br /><br />But as he started to turn away,<br />My fear, my agony, they began to play.<br />Why i felt torn, i couldn't say,<br />And it pained me he had to go away.<br /><br />He came close and lifted my face,<br />His eyes so soft, a sad smile.<br />My hand into this, then laced,<br />I wished, this moment, forever i could trace.<br /><br />I stayed in his arms afraid to let go,<br />I did not want him to go away.<br />My pain, he too felt, i knew,<br />And peacefully there, for moments, i lay.<br /><br />He smiled at me, one last time,<br />I stood there as he went away.<br />My life, my smiles, with him sublimed,<br />With no strength left, my knees buckled and gave way.<br /><br />My eyes were closed and i could see,<br />Glimpses of a future, i had so carefully planned.<br />Those beautiful eyes never leaving me,<br />Everything was going, what i thought i had in hand.<br /><br />It's not far but until the day i can see him again,<br />Blind to the world, shall stay my vision.<br />Living my life in a world with no pain,<br />Until he comes... my life.. an Illusion.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-2472750833673862422?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-88772096204780639502008-12-25T22:43:00.007+05:302008-12-26T00:00:28.440+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SVPREZ_C62I/AAAAAAAAASQ/wjxpvDY_E2o/s1600-h/old.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SVPREZ_C62I/AAAAAAAAASQ/wjxpvDY_E2o/s400/old.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283796661460724578" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">THEN<br /><br /><br /></span></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SVPPYIjdH9I/AAAAAAAAASA/F4KqRGgefdE/s1600-h/collage3.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 321px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SVPPYIjdH9I/AAAAAAAAASA/F4KqRGgefdE/s400/collage3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5283794801355726802" border="0" /></a> <div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Now</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>My 'original' school gang met up for dinner today. The group that <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">i've</span> been friends with since my 9<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">th</span> standard. There are 6 of us. We decided to make it a Christmas dinner and since a couple of them hadn't given us their birthday treat we clubbed it all together into a scrumptious dinner at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Mmmafia</span>.<br /><br />All six of us met at a friends place to discover she wasn't home. H and time aren't the best friends and she's been late for every single meeting/movie/school/college since we knew her. And as usual i landed up at her place first to find her mom <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">tellin</span> me she's not home... i waited and i waited till A, K, R and V showed up some half hour later claiming there was too much traffic (H's house is 5 minutes away from theirs!) After we all settled down and almost got pissed, H showed up saying she had work at a particular club she was a member of and we set off on our dinner journey.<br /><br />The last time the entire gang met was during H's birthday treat and after that we've never had the chance to go out together. Today was special. We were in the car singing loudly to some arbitrary tune that was playing and i suddenly turned nostalgic. When we were in our tenth.. we had a zillion exams before our boards and after every exam H used to drop all of us home since we all stayed in the same area (still do).. and we used to fight to play a song and sing it at the top of our voices. And we had a pattern of getting dropped... K first.. then A then V and then me.. it used to the best 15 minutes of our day.<br /><br /><br />Anyway we reached the restaurant and got our tables... we have this understanding. we never order for one single person. We always order as a group and share. We ordered couple of starters, couple of main courses and just started talking. K was desperate to drink and would not go past the page on the menu that had 'whisky' written in it. She was looking longingly at it and later realised it was not a drink but a dessert. She resolved to try it at the end of her meal.<br /><br />We were generally chatting and teasing each other about times in school. It was a long time and we were having a lot of fun getting to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">knw</span> what everyone was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">upto</span>. Two of them are engineering students. 2 in B com in my college but we rarely get to meet. And one is studying medicine.<br /><br />We've been to numerous eat outs and stuff along the years but we were all been kids then and fought over each other not having money, one taking the larger share of the food, someone not paying enough, someone arguing over some silly issue. We've always had issues crop up between us. Believe me <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">i've</span> been the pacifier in so many cases <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">i've</span> got the household name of 'counsellor'.<br /><br />But this time it was so different. We shared without fighting and ate our fill and didn't mind whatever the other person did. We've grown. Though the 3 who were supposed to pay the bill fought over it, this time they fought to pay the entire amount themselves. Reminded me of that master card advertisement where friends meet up after years and remember old days..<br /><br />Sigh... If only i could go back five years and live those days again...<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-8877209620478063950?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-47801450266845898722008-12-24T22:32:00.002+05:302008-12-24T22:50:09.543+05:30Thoorika... ur tag is next.. i'm too lazy to write urs :P .. shall do so next.. no tension maaaa<br /><br /><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">1. What is your occupation? <span style="font-weight: bold;">I occupy my chair, my sofa... so much that my dad thinks i'm gonna leave marks on them!</span></span><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">2. What color are your socks right now? <span style="font-weight: bold;">ummm... i can't say really.. i've been wearing the same pair for years.. they used to be white.. now they're green and... uhh.. i don't know what the other colour is...<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">3. What are you listening to right now ? <b style="">You and me by lighthouse<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"> <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">4. What was the last thing that you ate ? <span style="font-weight: bold;">Buttermilk (sigh..)</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">5. Can you drive a stick shift? <b>Yup :)<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">6. Last person you spoke to on the phone? <b>Amritha.. (sigh again!)<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">7. Do you like the person who sent this to you? <span style="font-weight: bold;">No i don't like her at all... i hate her so much i took up this tag to tell her that (iysh please know that i'm kidding and trying to be sarcastic here)</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">8. How old are you today?<b> 19 years and 5 months<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">9. What is your favorite sport to watch on TV? <b>Man vs. Wild ( :P)<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">10. What are your favorite drinks? <span style="font-weight: bold;">Pepsi, coke, vodka rum.. oh man i'm such a bum! (i rhymed!)</span><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">11. Have you ever dyed your hair? <b style="">Nahhh... i haven't sprouted any grays.... yet<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">12. Favorite food? <b style="">Pasta, nachos, nan and paneer butter masala... last but not least thayir sadam :)<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">13. What is the last movie you watched? <b style="">Vaaranam Aayiram… :(<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">14. Favorite day of the year? <span style="font-weight: bold;">Jan 31 :)<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">15. How do you vent anger? <b style="">Write it down somewhere.... or just sit with my head in my hands<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">16. What was your favorite toy as a child? <b style="">Video game console :)<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">17. What is your favorite season? <b style="">Winter... if u can call it that in chennai.. love snuggling under a blanket at night...<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">18. Do you want your friends to e-mail you ? <b>YES!<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"> 19. When was the last time you cried? <b style="">I don’t cry... shhh! :)<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"> 20. What is on the floor of your closet? <b style="">I don't have a closet<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">21. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending to? <span style="font-weight: bold;">I'm tagging Bajju... but i have no hopes of him taking this tag :P if he does then he's my oldest friend.. going back all my 20 yrs.. otherwise its Thoorika and Iyshu.. frnd for 3 yrs :)<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">22. What did you do last night? <span style="font-weight: bold;">Uhh... i'd rather not tell this in public :P<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">23. What are you most afraid of? <b>Water</b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">24. Plain, cheese, or spicy hamburger? <span style="font-weight: bold;">Spicy... not for the next two days tho.. medically unfit u see :P<br /></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">25. Favorite dog breed? <b style="">Golden Retrievers... oh man i so badly want one :( (Bajju remember our call to blue cross to 'inspect' rates? :P )<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">26. Favorite day of the week? <b style="">Sunday ( no coll)<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">27. How many states have you lived in? <b style="">The one and only Tamil Nadu!<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">28. Diamonds or pearls? <b style="">None.. i hate jewels<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style=""><o:p></o:p></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">29. What is your wish for this new year? <b style="">I want to do all the things i'm planning to do :D<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="font-size: 85%;"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;">30. New year resolution?<b style="">Get serious about my future... on alot of aspects<br /></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><br /><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 14.4pt; font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-size: 85%;"><b style="">I'm tagging Thoorika, Bajju, Mayank, Abhishek and Chriz<br /></b></span></p><span style="font-size: 85%;"> </span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-4780145026684589872?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-90198545865991192572008-12-22T19:15:00.002+05:302008-12-22T19:36:00.463+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sdarts.org/features/sdclassroom/student%20sleeping.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 228px; height: 202px;" src="http://www.sdarts.org/features/sdclassroom/student%20sleeping.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />1. You enter the exam hall armed with a ball point pen only and find people around you bringing customized stationary kits with pencils and pens of different sizes and colours, spending over ten minutes choosing the perfect instrument for the job.<br /><br />2. You wear an oversized t shirt and jeans and find people in formals complete with vermillion on their forehead.<br /><br />3. You relax in your chair and suddenly get goosebumps at the sight of a girl immersed in books even at the last minute. She seems to be possessed by the book. You clear your throat and try not to look at her.<br /><br />4. You do not rush to open the seal of the question paper when the bell rings and use different methods to open it neatly and find the boy next to you shaking in fear at the precious 5 seconds lost in the process of opening his.<br /><br />5. You use the only known method to answer unknown questions (which are most of the lot) 'inky pinky ponky...'. And alot of heads turn to face you, horror-struck. Oops...!<br /><br />6. You while away time by shaking the desk which is already shaky and creating a tune out of it in the process.<br /><br />7. You randomly circle answers and then realise you have negative marking for every wrong answer (shit!)<br /><br />8. While you work out sums mentally (inky pinky style) you find your neighbours using their hands, legs, shoulders and everything else that is available to count and solve problems.<br /><br />9. You finish the paper an hour in advance and yawn loudly only to find hostile stares and irritable clucks of tongues.<br /><br />10. You know the right answer for the question but mark the wrong option because you are too busy trying to circle the option perfectly, tongue out, in extreme concentration and precision, that you fail to see which option you actually circled. (b...b...b...b.... shit i just circled d!)<br /><br />11. You are totally against marking the same option more than twice. (a... this one's also a.... 3rd also a? no, i'll mark b. There hasn't been a 'b' in a long time)<br /><br />12. At the end of the test you admire the answer pattern that you have come up with on the answer sheet, not worrying if the answers are right or wrong.<br /><br />13. You take a 15 minute nap and wake up to find the bell ringing and think "At last!"<br /><br />14. You fight to give your paper first while a girl in front of you fights to retain it and holds it close to her heart because she has '2 more questions to complete'<br /><br />15. Finally, you look at the feedback column in the answer sheet and cannot gauge if the paper was 'tough' or 'easy' and decide to circle 'very easy' hoping the examiners will find the irony of the entire thing.<br /><br /><br />P.S: I did all this when i wrote my SNAP yesterday.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-9019854586599119257?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-68276865715463724802008-12-20T19:04:00.003+05:302008-12-20T19:49:58.393+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SUz9_-jZg7I/AAAAAAAAAR4/zHbirXKVTi4/s1600-h/exam.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 303px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SUz9_-jZg7I/AAAAAAAAAR4/zHbirXKVTi4/s400/exam.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5281875738563806130" border="0" /></a><br />We had two exams today and for the first time in my three years of college, i would tell you, i had no clue what i wrote in both my papers. Well, yesterday i spent most of my time online doing mundane things and not really bothering to open my book. Why? Cause my book was blank. I had no notes and had a couple of xerox that i just read thru cause i was falling asleep in the process.<br /><br />This morning, it actually hit me that i'm about to attempt two tests that i'm totally not prepared for. The exam was at 8 30 and i woke up home at 8. I ran helter skelter and somehow managed to reach college by 8 25. I sat down and wondered what the hell i was going to write. Of course, i knew things here and there but i didn't know anything properly.<br /><br />So, the first paper was placed in front of me. I saw the subject line 'Corporate Communication'. "I've heard this name somewhere", my brain told me and i churned it only to realise i spent an hour at around 3 in the morning ruffling through pages in my notebook, half asleep, totally disinterested. My eyes scanned the questions. Out of the 15 that was there, i knew 3... totally stretching it that is. The rest, i consented to bullshit.<br /><br />When you are doing a course a course in journalism it is mandatory that you need to have a special talent of bull shitting or you won't survive. Every single answer in every single paper will have facts and fiction of very extreme sorts. There have been times i've repeated one line around 20 times in the same answer. Anyway, i sharpened my sleep affected brain to face this new obstacle; completing the paper and trying not to fail.<br /><br />As i put my pen to paper and wrote 'Section A', my bench started shaking violently. I had sudden mental images of an earthquake that reduced the college to rubble and i don't have to continue with the test. But to my utter annoyance and disappointment i found out that the girl next to me was causing all the vibration. I honestly didn't know if she was etching her answers on her paper or writing them. She was literally putting enough pressure on the pen to snap it into two. I waited for her to settle down and after 15 minutes of waiting i came to the conclusion that that's just how she writes. I settled to write my answers amidst shaky grounds.<br /><br />I started off with whatever i knew and as i wrote i found out that i actually didn't know what i knew. So i bull shitted there too. I wrote in big bold letters and wrote the same things over and over again for every answer. After 5 answers, my brain wanted to rest and hence switched off. Of course, with my brain fast asleep there's not much i can do. So, i resorted to looking at people's faces.<br /><br />I looked around the class, observing people with their eyes scrunched in concentration, trying to get their answer right. One of my classmates was dancing in her seat, her arms flailing this way and that i found it very funny and stifled a laugh when the invigilator passed by me. Another one was busy applying moisturizer to her leg in the middle of the exam! I mean, what the hell!<br /><br />My mind then wandered to a romantic song i was listening to last night and it immediately built a love story with an unnamed un faced man. Sigh.. my brain will work for all this only. And i thought it was asleep. Maybe my brain was dreaming.<br /><br />After wasting another fifteen minutes i somehow managed to persuade my brain to wake up again and remind it that i need atleast 20 marks to pass. So it relented and started coughing back to work.<br /><br />I wrote another 10 sides and i got tired of it. Totally i had attempted 7 questions. I needed to attempt 3 more. I didn't know any of them. Ok, i thought. 'Tools of Corporate Communication'. I guessed they were stuff like pamplets, newsletters. I vaguely remembered reading those words in a xerox and attempted the answer with great fervor. Halfway through i got confused between a brochure and a pamphlet and switched them. Then i realised what i had done and spent more time correcting that and totally forgot about circulars. Therefore, my answer was kinda complete but half baked.<br /><br />I had ten more minutes and 2 more answers and i somehow managed to convincingly bull shit that too. I heaved a huge sigh of relief as i quickly exited the hall. I think i'll pass.<br /><br />My 2nd exam was an hour later. I spent that hour in between with all the notes in my hand, my mind completely elsewhere. I was laughing at one of my classmates who was very seriously trying to mug stuff in the last minute. I spoke to another one, who, like me, was trying to sleep than study. At the end of the hour, i came to a conclusion that today i've gone back to being the old 'me' about studies again.<br /><br />It was 11 and papers were distributed. The beauty about this exam was that i never knew what subject i was actually writing. I mean, i had the stuff and i knew this was the exam but i didn't know the name. My eyes first went to the name and i memorized it in case someone asked me what exam i wrote.<br /><br />Then i went about inspecting the paper to realize that I'm actually a little smart (not very, don't worry). I was an economics student in school. And i've done a HR paper in college. Both mixed together and you get media management. I knew a little here and there. And i had enough knowledge of both to crap all i want. I was surprised to find that out of 15 i knew 10 questions. I would pass, i sufficed.<br /><br />The earthquake writer continued her practice of trying to etch her answers not only on the paper but also on the desk. As i started writing, suddenly my bench shook so violently that all my stuff fell off the table. I turned to find my partner very laboriously rubbing at something that refused to erase. I glared at her and settled down to write again.<br /><br />Few answers down the line, i was staring at the paper, whilst my mind was contorting monopoly and oligopoly into something extremely weird when i suddenly heard a voice "Where's the paper?". My head snapped up. Paper? Huh? What paper? I wasn't even copying, in my defence. I looked up and saw the invigilator smiling at me. Actually, the lecturer who taught the subject was invigilating and i was wondering if she lost her mind. "What ma'am?", i asked. "HOW's the paper?", she said slowly. "Very easy ma'am.", i replied. "Really? Then all of you will get above 90?". I sealed my lips shut and nodded, smiling in between. She walked away, satisfied.<br /><br />Well, i don't know about 90 but i guessed everyone in the class would pass since the paper was easy enough. I finished the paper in 45 minutes flat. I looked around and saw everyone else writing.<br /><br />I didn't know what to write. I check and double checked and triple checked and counted out the number of answers loudly, awakening my partner from her concentrated writing. Then i got fed up of not knowing what to do and decided to give up my paper. I was just tying my paper when i heard a loud "AAAAAAAAAAAchoooooooooooo" and my paper went flying from my hands to the ground.<br /><br />Sigh... a perfect soggy ending to an amazing story.<br /><br />Today's lesson: My partner is a walking natural disaster. Not only cam she produce earthquakes, she could whip up a tornado also.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6827686571546372480?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com19tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-86451423735926908632008-12-16T22:34:00.002+05:302008-12-16T23:08:09.563+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.tattletart.com/wp-content/nick-carter.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 371px; height: 308px;" src="http://www.tattletart.com/wp-content/nick-carter.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />For the sake of my non-tamil audience i shalt translate my title into english.. it means 'maturing early'... in a more sarcastic note.. yes yes.. one that you would associate with me..<br /><br />Today i was trying to clean up my messy room. If you haven't seen my room yet, please ask those unfortunate souls who have. I'm sure they will tell you horror tales about it. My dad keeps tellin me that my asthma was because of my dusty, messy room with random things thrown about and he is soon predicting that i will get some other disease also due to over exposure to this room. But you know what? I love the place. It's small, cozy and has room only for me. Keeps the parents out! That's what i really need :P<br /><br />Getting back to the topic, i was rummaging through some really old diaries that i had. They were these notebook calenders that i used to take for my math tuition in my 6th and 7th. I opened up a couple to see each page torn in half with a blade. Ahh.. fond memories. How i used to come back from tuition, take a blade and tear every damn page into half. I wish i could do that to my 5 sub note now. Sigh...<br /><br />Anyway... as i was scanning the pages of one such diary... i came upon my scrawled, incredibly ugly 6 std handwriting on the last page. And this is what it read:<br /><br />Hi,<br /><br />I'm Anusha studying my 6th standard in NPS. I am in 6 A. I hope someday that when i am in college one nice boy will be my friend. I will help him with his homework and everything else. He will be my best friend. And i will take good care of him.<br /><br />Thank you for reading this.<br /><br />My first reaction at this bold piece of writing : ROTFL .... i mean, i was in 6 std and i was already dreaming about knights in shining armour. And for the next ten minutes i was giggling continuously. I couldn't help it. How clever was i. Maybe i was setting and reminder for myself, knowing few years later i'd pick it up and read it. Either ways, it was hilarious.<br /><br />At the end of it, i remembered how when i was young my dream man had blonde hair and blue eyes. He was actually Nick Carter of Backstreet Boys. I was so crazy about him that i and a friend of mine set up a club called NCBSG - Nick Carter's Backstreet Girls. We had a separate notebook for this and we developed a secret code through which we would communicate. People from my class were extremely curious about it and tried cracking the code. But none of them knew what anything meant. We had a code for each alphabet and that was in a piece of paper safely hidden at home.<br /><br />Once, one of my bitchy classmates got tired of our 'club' meetings and complained to the teacher saying that we're saying 'bad' words and doing weird things. Of course everything in our official club notebook was coded and my teacher didn't understand a word when she confiscated the book. So she too came to a conclusion that we were up to no good.<br /><br />Through the entire problem my friend and i would be in giggles cause we realised how embarrassed they would be when they found out about the silly club. Finally, the matter went upto the vice principal and we were called to her room.<br /><br />After a one hour interview with us she somehow managed to make us confess what it really was. Now, this lady, the vice principal was a damn strict lady who has a record for breaking a lot of the guys' bones. This was our primary concern. But when she heard out story, for the first time in the school's history, she laughed out loud. She gave us both a toffee and sent us away.<br /><br />All these memories came reeling back and i was still laughing over the diary when my father came an hour later, concluding that his daughter had finally gone mad.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-8645142373592690863?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-45080449159092326162008-12-15T11:28:00.004+05:302008-12-15T12:13:00.829+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.edjo.com/forever/gallery/boots/fyDreaming.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 435px;" src="http://www.edjo.com/forever/gallery/boots/fyDreaming.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />No, this one is not a sad post. It is not a post on careers gone waste and dreams not achieved. In fact, it has nothing to do with the word 'seriousness'. I'm tired of writing sad posts and i'm not a person who can stay sad for long. Atleast i don't want to be one :) . Well, last night as i tucked myself into bed i was fantasizing a love story between... ahem! i shalt not mention names here... anyway.... i was the female lead in the love story... i'll leave the male lead to your imagination. Anyway... i have this habit to telling stories to myself before i sleep. I play a story in my mind and usually just as it reaches a super climax i doze off... sigh...<br /><br />They say if you think too hard about something before you sleep you dream about it. I think this is bull shit. I always think hard (sometimes i think so hard that i end up in the loo) about me swimming in a tub of chocolates, or in some mansion with my LOWE, moonlit walks, candle light dinners, puppies and writing something path breaking but you know what kinda dreams i get? I get dreams of failing a test, or my HOD giving me a lecture or a dog CHASING ME or a tsunami (i don't know why i'm traumatized by something i didn't even experience first hand). But this time, my dream was little different.<br /><br />Anyway, i was playing this story in my mind about me and.... ahem! looking at the beach. Full moon, its rays casting beautiful colours on the sea. We had just had a candle lit dinner and we were walking hand in hand to the beach. Slowly as we approached the shore, the view was breath taking. As i sucked in the fresh air, i turned to see ... ahem!... on one knee and he was smiling up at me... He took my hand and kissed it. He then opened his mouth and said......<br /><br />I don't know what he said. I slept. Damn it. Someday i'm going to have to push the fast forward button on my stories so that i get to the good parts soon...<br /><br />Anyway... in my dream the situation continued. I was surprised.. i mean in my dream i was surprised that my man was still in front of my on one knee. Weird? I thought so too. He was again repeating taking my hand (this part sounds like a mega serial continuing from the last five minutes again the next day) and as he placed it to his mouth he turned into a cobra!!!!<br /><br />I'm not particularly scared of snakes, maybe because i've never been infront of one but i get constant dreams of snakes and dogs chasing me. Maybe that's to give me exercise in my dreams since i don't really exercise in reality.. hmmm... anyway.. he changed into a cobra that was MULTICOLOURED! Being kissed by a cobra is bad enough but a VIBGYOR one? please... my dreams never cease to surprise me...<br /><br />Either ways, when i saw the cobra i started running and the cobra was chasing me. Somehow as i try to outrun the cobra on the romantic beach, a giant wave starts forming and i stand and stare at it and the cobra disappears into thin air.<br /><br />In my dream i suddenly remember how a lady and her dad hug before a wave hits them in 'Deep Impact' and i search for someone to hug but i'm alone. I run again and there is a house. It's my house. I get into it and lock the door. I think the giant killer wave took the role of 'big bad wolf' in 'three little pigs' coz how much ever it 'huffed and puffed' on my door, it couldn't get in and it went around my house! lol... i had to laugh here.. sorry.. :P let us continue<br /><br />I turn and find that my house is this museum turned home ( i genuinely don't know where that came from). There were old paintings (including the Mona Lisa and last supper.. probably Da Vinci Code influence) and dinosaur exhibits. But the whole place was furnished amazingly with vintage furniture and decorations, just the way i've always imagined.<br /><br />Suddenly some random fellow comes out of nowhere and asks me to cook him dinner. I stare at him. Subconsciously in the dream i know he is my HUSBAND! I'm flabbergasted. But i'm confused. I know i'm not married. I wonder if my dad secretly got me married when i was sleeping. Then i remember that i'm actually in a dream and this guy was just a figment of my imagination.<br /><br />I shook my self awake and spent a good 5 minutes laughing over it. Then i lay back down and slept.<br /><br />This time i found an old man in a 'Transformers' style robot body with his head alone human like. He looked vaguely like Geoffrey Boycott. I don't know why he came in my dream with his slurred english but he was talking to me about alien invasion and he suddenly morphed into a super cool ferrari and i felt like Samuel Witwicky (i hope that spellin is right. for those of you who didn't see transformers he's the male lead).... and the car was operatin by itself and it took me to this forest where i found.... ahem! being abducted by aliens. Someone fights, someone rescues ahem! and he wants to thank me for saving his life ( i don't know what i was doing during the fight).<br /><br />He bends on one knee, takes my hand, kisses it and says........... "Thanks buddy!". And i hear a distinct voice shouting "WAKE UP ITS 10 o CLOCK!".<br /><br />Sigh... Dreams are just BAH!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-4508044915909232616?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-54452219328671592322008-12-07T23:41:00.005+05:302008-12-10T22:36:57.271+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://creoleindc.typepad.com/rantings_of_a_creole_prin/images/see_drunk_close.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 450px; height: 450px;" src="http://creoleindc.typepad.com/rantings_of_a_creole_prin/images/see_drunk_close.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Inspired by a true incident</span><br /><br />I'm waiting up. I don't know how long i need to. I don't know if he'll even come home. But, out of sheer hope in the lord i sit up, meddling with the numerous holes that have sprung up from nowhere in my saree. I have only 4 of them. All 4 which my mom and dad gave as dowry when i married him. That was ten years ago. Now these sarees are crushed, faded, smelly and torn.<br /><br />I hear the sound of scuffling feet. I look up expectantly but i'm disappointed. It was only a dog. I go back to examining my now gray,but once cream coloured saree. I'm upset. It's almost 2 in the morning. I know, by now, what state he will come back home in. Sigh! I want to run away. It's a torture waiting up everyday wondering if he'll come back home a husband or a killer.<br /><br />I've grown used to it. Ten years of beatings, thrashings, swearing have made me immune to it. Right now, all i do is bear it and let it go. What else can i do? I'm uneducated, my parents have passed on, i have two kids who i want to bring up in life and i have no job of my own. I want to work but he won't let me. If i run away how would i bring up my kids? How would i make them study? I want my kids to earn alot more than i ever will in my lifetime.<br /><br />My ears perk up. I hear his voice. Oh no, not again. He's been drinking. There, i see him; shirt unbuttoned, sticking out of his khaki auto-driver uniform pant. His hair askew, hands flapping around, one around a bottle that was almost empty. I knew for sure that this must've been this fourth or fifth bottle. Sigh... i'm in for a reckless night.<br /><br />"You wretched woman.. where are you?", he said coming inside the hut we call home. I got up and went to him, pulling his free hand over my shoulder, guiding him inside. "Let go of me.. you think i can't walk? Let go", he said swaying violently as i let go of him for a few seconds. He slumped to the ground and demanded his dinner.<br /><br />I placed the food before him and he looked at it suspiciously for a long time. "Are you sure you didn't poison it you wretched thing? I know you want to kill me. The rice looks oddly discoloured. You eat it first and show me that its safe". I obliged. I ate a couple of hand fulls before he pushed my hand away and started gobbling it down.<br /><br />As he was eating, he spotted a stray hair in his food. That was the beginning of the most horrible night of my life. "You BITCH!", he screamed, running at me, throwing the plate at my face. It struck me on my forehead and i started to bleed. Before i could gain balance, he slapped me right across my face. Finger marks etched themselves onto my skin. The stinging pain brought tears to my eyes. I don't cry. I don't like to cry. But i couldn't help it.<br /><br />Another blow followed, this time on my stomach, sending me reeling backwards. The pain was just starting to set in. Blow after blow followed. At the end of it, i was on my back, pinned to the ground with a black eye, a torn lip and a cut across my forehead. The numbing pain in my stomach and back was driving me insane.<br /><br />Why am i subject to such torture? What did i ever do wrong? I've been thrashed, kicked, spat on, trodden upon, dragged, pulled, pushed, slapped and belted. What more do i need? I have to do something. I'm sick and tired of being an object of ridicule when i tolerate his sick behavior, his drinking, his abuse. I won't take it anymore. I just can't put up with this again.<br /><br />I look up at him, a new fire alight in my eyes. I've never felt so vengeful before. I want him to feel my pain. I want him to know how it is to be abused physically and mentally every single day of your life. I want him to suffer, every single minute. There is a change within me. I am more stronger than i can be. It has to be tonight or it will never be. I understand that now...<br /><br />He is coming at me again, his slippers in his hand. I grope around me and find something. I don't know what it is. He lunges at me and with every inch of strength that i can muster, i strike with my weapon.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">THUD!<br /><br /></span>Sound of body meeting the ground. There is a pool of blood. My internal fire is quenched. Panting, i look at his lifeless body. I had pierced his heart with a knife. For a moment, my feelings are down. I look around, depressed<span style="font-style: italic;">. </span><span>After a few moments, i stepped out into the night.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I looked up and i laughed</span><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-5445221932867159232?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-70041339304871294272008-12-02T20:47:00.003+05:302008-12-02T21:21:41.390+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://yetanotherdave.com/comics/microsoft_maths.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 530px; height: 355px;" src="http://yetanotherdave.com/comics/microsoft_maths.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Ok you might have not understood my title and i'll explain what IDE is. In my college.. we get to choose an Inter-Disciplinary Elective every 2 semesters since the 2nd year. This sem, we had the same and i had already made up my mind to choose 'event management' which was offered by the business admin department. And me being mathematically challenged (i'm the kinda person who thinks 1+2 = 12), i'd have been the last person on this planet to choose maths as an elective.<br /><br />As the campus tv announcement started about the different electives, i was half sleeping and half listening. I didn't listen to them mention that 'Game theory and decision making', which, according to me, have nothing to do with maths, was infact offered by that same dept. But i didn't hear them mention that cause i was too engrossed in eating chapathi and channa from a friend's tiffen box.<br /><br />Finally, we had to jot down 4 options, according to our preference and they would give us what they think would do us good. As they listed the courses for the last time, i was suddenly struck by 'Game theory (i'm a game addict, u see) and decision making (i'm yet to make a decision on my future, so you know!)'. I thought it was offered by the comp sci dept and was all geared up to learn something about 'Age of Empires' and 'Warcraft' (my eternal love) and all. I let go of my event management dream and signed up for 'Game theory' along with one other friend, who was also under the same impression.<br /><br />The next day, i come to know that i have voluntarily chosen to commit suicide by signing up for MATHS! Well, it's not like i'm really bad at maths. Just that MATHS DOES NOT SEEM TO LIKE ME. IT EVADES ME AT THE MOST IMPORTANT TIMES AND I BLINK AND STARE AS THOUGH I HAVE NEVER SEEN NUMBERS IN MY LIFE.<br /><br />I left maths 4 years back after i chose to take commerce with english in school. My love-hate relationship came to a thankful end, except for the basic addition and subtraction in accounts, which i was thankfully good at. Well, if u count out the addition mistake in my board exam that cost me a 200/200 :P where i added that 4000 + 4000 = 10, 000. I dunno how i came up with that.<br /><br />Anyway, i hoped against hope that they would see that i had given event management as second option and realise i'm not too good a mathematician and put me in the other. But, as luck would have it, i got MATHS.... My decision making skills need alot of tweaking!<br /><br />I entered the class, wondering how on earth i was gonna cope and a very nice looking lady walked in. I hoped she would teach well. But as soon as she opened her mouth, i opened mine too. I mean, my jaw dropped. I heard a squeak instead of a voice! If that wasn't so bad, her speed... my god! she could beat a concorde!<br /><br />My already sluggish brain, which usually switches off anywhere near numbers, snored very loudly as Ms. Minnie mouse (my new name for her) squeaked on and on about 'operational research' and about 'probability' and what not. Here's an excert from her speech:<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, am i right ma? Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak am i right ma? Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, Squeak, am i right ma? Squeak, Squeak, Squeak.</span><br /><br />The following are the words i deciphered through constant training of being under another friend who had a very similar problem:<br /><br />"1 rupee coin." "Certainity." "Heads or tails." "Only that." "Nothing else."<br /><br />Because boredom reached new heights, i started randomly writing names of people i know, ticking off people i'm not in touch with when my ma'am approached me. "Did you understand ma?", she asked in a span of half a second. It took me 1 minute to understand. "Yes ma'am", i replied, taking 2 complete seconds to say them. "What are you doing ma?", she asked.<br /><br />I looked down at my notebook. "Probability", i chanced, remembering a word she used in between her squeaking. "What sum? I haven't even given any exercise?", she asked. "I'm writing my own example ma'am. In a condition of certainity, i'm ticking off all those people ill probably be in touch with through out my life and those who probably will be chucked out. There are only two status of nature's here. Be in touch, not in touch. Alternatives are the names of my friends. I'm tabulating the result ma'am", i surprised myself, wondering how i had understood her squeaking and my ability to deliver coherent answers concerning maths.<br /><br />She looked puzzled and then asked, "Really ma?". I nodded "Yes ma'am". She seemed to consider it for a minute. She looked at my faithful companion who was at my side. "Yes ma'am, i was just helping her multiply", she replied, making me believe a sigh of relief. "Show me once you finish the sum ma. Am i right?", she squeaked again. "Done ma'am", i smiled.<br /><br />The class went on and when the clock struck 1, i sneaked out of the class so that she doesn't see me. Now, i am stuck with 'Homework'. I have to probablise ( is that a word?) my friendship and convert it into a mathematical problem.<br /><br />Like Minnie Mouse told us in our very first minute of class "Any problem can be converted into a mathematical problem maaaa".<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-7004133930487129427?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-61876257690383856302008-11-30T19:45:00.004+05:302008-11-30T20:56:41.696+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.pioneer.net/%7Emchumor/00images/4903_driving_cartoon.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 392px;" src="http://www.pioneer.net/%7Emchumor/00images/4903_driving_cartoon.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a>From the above title it is easy to come to the obvious conclusion that my dad can drive. Of course, he's been cruising behind a steering wheel for more than 3 decades. What more do u expect? The problem and the reason behind this post is the fact that because he knows how to drive... HE WONT LET ME!<br /><br />This doesn't mean that he never lets me anywhere near the car. I do drive him around once in a while. Infact, i drive ONLY under his vigil. Because, the last time and the only time he let me out alone, i came back home with the rear part of the car smashed in. Err.... Nothing happened to me, don't worry. It was just the rear guard that got hit. Following that, my father has laid down strict rules that i shalt not use the car unless he is sitting right next to me.<br /><br />That might not be so bad if HE LET ME DRIVE. Yesterday, I had to go somewhere for a 5 minute work and i asked dad if i could borrow the car. As you would have guessed, he decided to accompany me, since i'm still 12 years old and i cannot drive (that was sarcasm btw :P ). Anyhow... here's a conversation between my father in my subconscious mind:<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Act 1 Scene 1</span></span><br /><br />The parking lot at our apartment is narrow and it takes a little time to maneuver the car out of it. My dad, who had driven the car the previous night, had not put the gear back in neutral. I did not notice this. This is wat happened:<br /><br />I turn key<br /><br />Car lurches<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">My mind (MM): </span><span style="font-style: italic;">Dad must've left the gear on. Will change it to neutral and start again.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">1 second later</span><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Dad:</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> I've left the gear on, don't you see? Where are your eyes? Don't look at that boy standing there. Look at the gear. Change it to neutral</span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Act 1 Scene 2:</span><br /></span><br />As we wait to turn into the main road<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">MM:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Here's a gap. I'll just put the indicator and turn.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">.5 second later</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">There's a gap. Turn here. What are you doing? Put indicator. Do i have to tell you all this? And you want me to let you drive alone.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">MM:</span> Sigh...<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Act 2 Scene 1</span></span><br /><br />Driving down a considerably empty road.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">MM:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Let me shift to third gear. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">1 second later</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> Shift to third gear now. Don't you know you have to shift gears? You are wasting my petrol! I am paying for it not you. </span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Act 2 Scene 2:</span></span><br />Nearing a red signal<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">MM:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">I'll just gradually push in the brakes from now on, so that it stops completely behind that innova.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1 second later</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Put on the brake. Why are you driving at top speed when you know that the signal is red. You wil only hit that innova if you do. Step on the break gradually and halt there.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Act 3 Scene 1:</span></span><br />Nearing a one-way<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">MM:</span><span style="font-style: italic;"> I think i should just take a U Turn here</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Almost<br /><br /></span> <span style="font-weight: bold;">Dad:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Take a u turn. It's a one way. Can't you see? Blind girl. You are giving me tension every minute. Why can't you think all this for yourself? Why are you waiting for me to tell you?</span><br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">MM:</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">@#%@$@$@^@</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6187625769038385630?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-16264789709123513692008-11-28T20:39:00.007+05:302008-11-28T22:12:38.134+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.speedysigns.com/images/osha/large/CAUTION049.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 285px;" src="http://www.speedysigns.com/images/osha/large/CAUTION049.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Now, i'm not really into research and analysis et all but today as i was watching a 'Varanam Aayiram' song video, i hear Suriya mutter this punch dialogue to his lady love "I'll come for you and i'll sweet you off your feet". Now this expression 'sweeping someone off their feet' sent my abnormal brain into deep thought and this brain quickly brought up a theisis on the expression itself!<br /><br />'Sweeping' someone off their feet can mean two things:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">1. Sweeping with a broom 'off' their feet, meaning, somewhere around, inbetween or in the vicinity of their feet.</span> <span style="font-weight: bold;"><br /><br />2. Sweeping them off their feet >> using a broom to trip them so that they are totally 'off' their feet or hitting them with a broom until they are down on their knees. Now they're on their knees, not feet, right?</span><br /><br />Do you get it?<br /><br />Now why would someone want to do that to someone they love? It is beyond me. Let us consider both situations alright? And consider yourself in the middle of each and trying to propose to someone you love.<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Situation 1: </span><br /><br />"I will come for you and i will sweep you off your feet"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Action:</span> The person standing in front of you and you take up a broom and start sweeping around them. Actually, if you are a guy, this might sound grim! But looking on the brighter side, the girl might actually accept you for one of the following reasons :<br /><br /><ul><li>She thinks you'll make a good house husband</li><li>She thinks your broom is a good one</li><li>She thinks your a part of the witches committe</li><li>She thinks you are dumb, which is an added advantage</li><li>She's a dominatrix whose sole aim in life is to make men sweep floors.</li></ul><br />If you're a girl, well, consider yourself married by next monday!<br /><span style="font-weight: bold;"><br />Situation 2:</span><br /><br />"I will come for you and i will sweep you off your feet"<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Action:</span> The person is standing in front of you. You take a broom and start beating them up or tripping them, both of which ain't a very bright aspect. But..... but... they may accept you still because:<br /><br /><ul><li>They will be tripping and hitting other parts (oww!) of you very soon</li><li>They think you will stop beating them if they accept</li><li>You them a good back/foot massage that cured an annoying crick in their back/foot that has been there for years.</li><li>They think you are trying to drive a deadly spirit out of them</li><li>You are putting them to the test with a very weirdly done obstacle course</li></ul><br />So there's my analysis of this very peculiar situation. It might not be a thorough analysis but it is one still. And it will make you think the next time you use that word to propose your love to someone... hahaha.. i've expertly ruined one of the most romantic english idioms ever :P And i'm proud of it.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1626478970912351369?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-67236025697714707652008-11-27T20:02:00.004+05:302008-11-27T21:00:04.761+05:30<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SS67_3hLzzI/AAAAAAAAARI/GgdBKVrlHJ8/s1600-h/DSC00173.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y3avfMTh0XQ/SS67_3hLzzI/AAAAAAAAARI/GgdBKVrlHJ8/s400/DSC00173.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273358919606718258" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V - Encounter Specialist in the FLASH</span><br /></div><br />At the wake of terror in Mumbai, two important people of the country were in deep discussion on how the situation could have been handled and how easily it would've been to rescue the hostages then.<br /><br />My friend V and I were discussing possibilities of her becoming an encounter specialist and saving those hostages. Here is the conversation:<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V:</span> My blood boils everytime i see terror attacks on my country. I was telling my mother that i want to join the RAF.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> What was her reaction?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V:</span> What do you think? She laughed on my face.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> I would have too, had i been her. Why don't you think of something more feasible for you? Like sucking on your lolly pop?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V:</span> Shut up. Am almost a year older than you.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> But you look like a 12 yr old.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V:</span> That is an advantage. I have a plan all sketched out in my mind. A plan, had i been in RAF now, that would have worked against the situation.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> What plan?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V: </span>I will dress up as a cabaret dancer and entertain the terrorists so that they're distracted then i'll shoot them all. *Makes gun noises*<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Child, if you look like a 12 yr old, they're gonna be disgusted. They may even say 'awwwwwww' instead of 'aaaaahhh'. They're not pedophiles you know.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V: </span>Excuse me. Now i'm 20 and i look like 12. When i am 26 i'll look 18 right? I will look like a woman then<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> You are right. So, if u are a cabaret dancer it means u'll have to dress scantily. You don't think they'll spot the gun?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V:</span> Good point. I didn't think of that.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Do one thing. Do cabaret dance and invite them one by one to your room. When they come, shoot.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V: </span>Super plan! Cha i wish i could become a commando. I'll be the bravest. And when i'm killed in an encounter with a terrorist you'll see vidoes of my marching straight, looking all brave, in every news channel.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> Haha... Yeah. They will say "V took a bullet for the country".<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V:</span> Yeah. *dreams*<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> By the way, why didn't you come to office today?<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">V: </span>My mom told me she'll kill me if i step out of the house today.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">Me:</span> ROTFL! Hostage situation, indeed.....<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6723602569771470765?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-76072140194294210092008-11-27T12:44:00.003+05:302008-11-27T13:01:19.031+05:30This thing's giving me the goosebumps.... superb trailer!!!!!!!!!!!!!<br /><br />HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF BLOOD PRINCE<br /><br /><br /><object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-b2b200ced54f6928" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"><param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v21.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db2b200ced54f6928%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330378770%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5C9C372AE937F6E44AF551214AD23A681712B8AD.84045F737BE59C4B94613216BB98C2D4EB156F91%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db2b200ced54f6928%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DK3p2ee6N2_birsj-CzYcuu-sj4g&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v21.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3Db2b200ced54f6928%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1330378770%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D5C9C372AE937F6E44AF551214AD23A681712B8AD.84045F737BE59C4B94613216BB98C2D4EB156F91%26key%3Dck1&iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3Db2b200ced54f6928%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DK3p2ee6N2_birsj-CzYcuu-sj4g&autoplay=0&ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /></object><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-7607214019429421009?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-22034749960414463902008-11-26T19:54:00.005+05:302008-11-26T22:38:32.411+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.torito.nl/illus/visual/writers_block_400.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 527px; height: 356px;" src="http://www.torito.nl/illus/visual/writers_block_400.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Today... i was trying to write a lead paragraph for ma story on Ranga Rao (refer to previous post). I think i've seriously got into another one's of my writer's blocks. Coz i wrote and i wrote and i wrote... and at the end of a strenuous 2.5 hrs, i had mastered the art of writing two full sentences, which i later erased because i thot it wasn't good enough! Leaping lizards! And i thought i could write.......<br /><br />Anyway, my comp at home is infected by sum 'entranneous illegal activity' (thanks to a very tech savvy dad who doesn't know anything about viruses and is extremely fascinated by pop up windows) and i sat down in my office to write the article. I was bent on finishing it today. Well, my luck was otherwise...<br /><br />I began..<br /><br />"A seventy something bespectacled man opened the door...."<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />naaaaa.......</span><br /><br />"A man, sporting a striped orange kurta and white pyjaamas with sandles"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I'm not writing for Vogue</span><br /><br />"Down a narrow wooded lane off haddows road..."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Uh... this ain't a horror novel...</span><br /><br />"What do you do when you are passionate about art, music, dance and writing? You start a collection of gramaphones"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">DELETE DELETE DELETE</span><br /><br />"What do you do when you are a music and dance scholar?"<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Make sure you never give an interview to this shitty journalist.... DELETE!</span><br /><br />"Ranga Rao, a seventy something man has the country's largest collection of gramaphone records, numbering to a massive 42,000"<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Stamp, trample, kill..... yourself</span><br /><br />"....................................................................."<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />That's the best i've written all day</span><br /><br />And so i've been going on...... and i'm yet to arrive at the perfect sentence... Sigh!<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-2203474996041446390?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-69948482909372808372008-11-25T18:28:00.002+05:302008-11-25T19:15:51.387+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.hindu.com/fr/2007/01/19/images/2007011901940302.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 330px; height: 350px;" src="http://www.hindu.com/fr/2007/01/19/images/2007011901940302.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Till this very day, i thought i wasn't a judgmental person. I thought i was a person who could determine people's characters well since i observe alot, by default. But i proved myself terribly wrong and bow my head in apology to a man i learnt to admire today.<br /><br />V.A.K Ranga Rao. He's in his late 70s' and i decided to interview him for my paper. What is so special abt the man? Well, his impeccable english though he's just done his 12th std is one. Apart from which he owns the largest collection of gramaphone records in the country (42000) to be precise. Whoa!<br /><br />Anyway, the guy was haughty and threw an attitude on the phone and i braced myself for this meeting, thinking i was about to face a 'cantankerous' old man, as he himself told me later. Well, when i reached his place and called him, he told me to come ten minutes later. Of course he didn't know i was waiting outside his place but it put me off. It worsened the already bad impression i had on him.<br /><br />But as soon as i went back ten mins later and knocked on the very old house he lives in, i knew i was wrong. He invited me inside graciously. He sported a smart orange kurta and white pyjamas. He looked scholarly and a little weathered. As soon as i entered the house, i found is ironical to his sophisticated, impeccable behavior. The house was MESSY! it was full of dust with gramaphone records, books, papers, envelopes lying all round the place and a table right in the centre. The house had 2 floors.. .all three levels containing more books and more records. I was mesmerised!<br /><br />As he started talking about him as a critic.. the amount of mistakes he found in every book, i was hooked since i was a voracious reader myself. I found his knowledge on varied subjects to be absolutely stunning. He's what one would jokingly call 'walking encyclopedia'. And by all means, he justifies the nick name.<br /><br />After a tour of almost 5-6 rooms in his mansion dedicated to books, books and more books, videos and records, i wondered if they were his only company. He seemed chatty, asking me a few personal questions here and there but not altogether unprofessional. He was blunt, straight forward and did not mince words at all.<br /><br />I find bluntness in men a very admirable quality. And this old man was right on target. If i spoke softly he would say "i'm sorry, i'm deaf, could you be louder?". If i stood up and continued the interview he would shoo me to a chair "i can't talk to you if you stand. Please sit or i won't be able to hear you". If i asked him a particular question and didn't write it down he would say "i don't tolerate factual errors". it made me scribble steadfastly across my book even though i didn't understand what i wrote.<br /><br />He said to me "just wait 5 mins. i 'm making tea". When i refused it he said "it's not for you. It's for me. in the process, i'll just give you half a cuppa"... and he made me drink the drink i despise so much i've not even smelt it in years!<br /><br />Well, by the end of the our interview session, i had become his ardent admirer. The guy is an expert, not because he has to be but because he wants to be one! It was superb and though i didn't have an ounce of the knowledge he had, i felt as though i had achieved a great feat by interviewing this man.<br /><br />He was not such a cantankerous old man after all, just a guy who can-carry-tank-sized-info and had a computer like amazing memory. Kudos! to this walking encyclopedia.<div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-6994848290937280837?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-15195676688546515762008-11-23T20:05:00.002+05:302008-11-23T20:42:10.996+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/lowres/ear0728l.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 358px; height: 400px;" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/lowres/ear0728l.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Here i am beings the eeenglisu patientu because-u today i happenings to meetings oone verrry interesting persons-u that wantings to know the ways to one place-u. But she thinkings su that i don't know tamil and talkings to me in the eenglisuuu.. you understandings aah? Anyways, i was the walkings to the buss topu and was standings waitings for the bussu to come when the ladies approachings me and askings very eeeemportant koshtin in the eenglisu...<br /><br />"Where to go for porur?", she the askings, leavings me the dumbfounded. I not understandings a word she sayings so decently i askings "pardon me". She smilings. I was wonderings why all adventures happenings in connection buss for me. "You not know eeeenglis?", she askings me kindly. That throwings me long long ways. "I the understand", i stammerings.<br /><br />"Oh oh... You not know proper eenglis? All these girls these days not know proper eenglis even though they studyings in the eeenglis medium school. Grooming is not nice i tell you", she the complaining. I the gaspings. THIS LADY THE TALKINGS ABOUT THE PLIGHT OF THE EENGLIS... i not bearings.. i decidings to show her who the boss is.<br /><br />"Look", i tellings her. "Eenglis is very the tough language to the understanding. I can see that you have the masterings it but i haven't. Don't keep the complainings. Why not you startings a coaching centres to teach the eeenglis to the poor childrens?". i the retortings. Suddenly for her bulb is oning and bell is ringings.<br /><br />"Yes yes", she sayings. I am hopings it is not what i am dreadings. "I am going to the start one coaching centre for traning all these childrens in proper eenglis. I am thinkings that i won't even charge the fee. it will be free. you want to the join?", she lookings hopefully at me. Sarcasm is the lost, i'm thinkings.<br /><br />"Its wokay madam", i consoling her. "I'm very the busy with work now but i am tellings you, your students beings the very lucky. Tell my congratulations." She the satisfied and walkings off, leavings me nostalgic.<br /><br />I'm thinkings of a particular physics teacher in the school where i was the studyings who gave amazing dialogues about the girls who are the wearings short skirts.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"All these girls want to do is show the boys boys boys their thighs thighs thighs"</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-1519567668854651576?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-5830548350368777912008-11-23T19:00:00.002+05:302008-11-23T19:51:14.668+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://kojin.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/sm-08-4296-ragna-in-lima-silhouette.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 333px;" src="http://kojin.files.wordpress.com/2008/07/sm-08-4296-ragna-in-lima-silhouette.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />From then on, life isn't so bad. I spend my days sneaking a few minutes before and after work to talk to Ajay. At last i have a friend. He teaches me many things. About life, about love, about family.<br /><br />For months, i learn from him. He slips me few bucks here and then and my savings is considerably large now. I'm scared one day my father will find it and take it away. And i'm also scared about another thing.... I'm falling in love with Ajay. His careless smile, his charm, the way he holds my hand when he wants to say something serious, his hugs, the way he taught me to dance the other day, pulling me close et all; they make me feel things i've never felt before. I want to hold him too.<br /><br />A few days later, at the restaurant, i see a man and woman kiss. It gives me goosebumps. The rest of the evening i sit in a corner, imagining myself kissing Ajay. It's a worthless fairytale dream. I know. But i can't get over it all the same.<br /><br />I have decided to tell Ajay how i feel. I'm scared. I still wear the same old dirty pant and shirt when i go to work but i change into what he has bought me when we meet in the evenings. I am wearing a black and white t shirt and blue jeans that he'd got me few months earlier. I try to tame my hair but it isn't working out. I look into my small pocket mirror and decide i look decent. Today will be the day i break my own heart. But i can't help it. It's the risk i need to take.<br /><br />I wait at the usual place and he cruises in on time, in his fancy car. He is wearing an olive green tee and light blue jeans that are hanging on to dear life on his lean hips. He waves. "What's up buddy", he gives me a hi5. "I need to talk to you", i say. "Sure. Shoot". "I.... Umm... I think i'm falling in love with you", i blurt out.<br /><br />Uneasy silence follows. I want to die right then. He's going to laugh on my face and tell me that i was a slum girl dreaming of unattainable things. I see his face fall and his jaw drop. A tear seeps through my eye lids. I've never cried before. It's a strange feeling. Half relief and half pain. What a mixture. I see him shake his head and walk away from me. I knew then he'd never return.<br /><br />5 years have gone by. I still think of him and tears come freely. My parents are still at it. They have now started kicking each other. Improvement, i mutter to myself and walk away everytime it happens. I have changed jobs. I'm now working at a beauty salon and get paid a lot more than i used to. I get around Rs.3000 a month now. My home life is still shitty. My personal life is as lonely as ever.<br /><br />I walk down the narrow lane to the rented apartment that i now live in. I shifted here since my salary was good enough. It's not much but it gives me a separate room and i stay away from my violent parents. I have realised, as bad mouthed as they are, they need me and i don't complain anymore.<br /><br />I lose myself in my thoughts and a sudden movement in the sky makes me look up. A shooting star. The pang slices through me like a knife. I walk faster. No more empty wishes. My father was right. Why would god waste his time on a pathetic excuse for a human being like me. As i break into a run, i dash into a passer by. I look up to excuse myself. "Sorr..." The words stop.<br /><br />The man who made me run is now in front of me. He has grown taller, more muscular. His shirt fits his broad shoulders like it is custom made for him and his trousers stand perfect at his waist. There is no more the air of a laid back teenager. The lines around his eyes have hardened and he is now a man. "Hi", he says and i go back five years. The table. My dirty dress. His 'hi'.<br /><br />I nod. I don't know if i should say anything. "Remember me?", he asks. I nod again. He seems to gain more confidence and moves closer. "Your looking beautiful tonight". My head snaps up and meets his eyes. I've heard these words a million times in these five years; men trying to court me, trying to get fresh with me, trying to touch me but i've never heard them the way he said it right now.<br /><br />I find my legs giving way as i try desperately to stay calm and resist the urge of running to him to give him a hug. I stay still. "I'm sorry i went away that evening. I was just 19. I didn't knw what i was doing. All i could think of from that very day was you. I dreamt of the day i'd meet you again. When i finally found the courage to come to you, they said u had moved. I thought you didn't want me in your life and you decided to move on. But i couldn't give up. I searched the entire city and found your place a few months back. I've been watching you. Today, i decided it's time for me to make myself clear. I love you. I made a mistake. If you would give me one more chance, i'll spend my entire life making it upto you".<br /><br />Uneasy silence again. I look up. The shooting star is right above him. I smile. I know right now that God had indeed taken time off to make my wish come true. But i had to know. "Are you sure?", i ask him. Slowly, he smiles too. The same smile that had made me fall for him. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life". He extends his hand to me. The same way he had, five years ago. I take it and he pulls me to him, wrapping his arms around me. And i have my first kiss after 23 years of nothing but disappointments and regrets. The same way i had imagined kissing him 5 years ago. I pull away and point to the sky....<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Look! There's a shooting star. They say if you make a wish on a shooting star it'll come true. Why don't you try. It worked for me "</span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3675104027843673974-583054835036877791?l=thewolfscriptures.blogspot.com' alt='' /></div>Elithraniel Arawionhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/18404123710363962772noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3675104027843673974.post-86585820709770770532008-11-22T20:18:00.006+05:302008-11-22T22:09:32.705+05:30<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://euroross.blogspot.com/Shooting%20Star.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 374px;" src="http://euroross.blogspot.com/Shooting%20Star.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">They say if you make a wish on a shooting star it'll come true... I made one too..</span><br /><br />I brush the dust off my already dirty pants and start walking home. <span style="font-style: italic;">One, two, three...</span> I count the steps to pass time and just as i reach home, the remnants of the smile i wore faded away. I see the usual scene... my mother screaming her eyes out and throwing things at my drunken father who tackles them and rushes at her with his meaty fists.<br /><br />Sigh! If only they would just shut up. If only they knew how angry i was becoming with every fight. If only they knew that their only daughter hated their guts because she was 18 and had to work her ass off while they fought and spent whatever money she made.<br /><br />I don't have any pretty clothes. I don't have a cell phone. I don't have money. I don't have friends. I work at a local restaurant that pays me Rs. 100 a week, which barely helps meet ends at home. I wear the only pair of faded Grey pants (handed down from my father) and blue t shirt that i own to work everyday. They laugh at me. They howl and jeer. Though tears sting my eyes, i always manage to suck them back and move on, hoping that one day i'd be free from all this pain.<br /><br />I sit in my chair, looking at my mother curse my father with words that i've grown used to over the years. They've been at it since i was 6 and 12 years of this has made me numb to it. I stay still until the fight is over and then walk to my mother like i do everyday. "Dinner", i mutter and she gives me a disgusted look. I hold up my plate and she slaps a very weird looking goo on it, like she does everyday.<br /><br />I push down the goo without so much of a second thought and walk outside. I look up at the sky and smile as i spot a shooting star. They say if you make a wish, it'll come true. I close my eyes and make a wish. I hold it close, afraid that someone will steal it from me if they ever sense it. I am suddenly afraid God might not like it if i didn't smile when i made a wish so i give the biggest smile i can muster as i release my wish into the sky, all the while looking at the star as it leaves a temporary trail across the skies.<br /><br />THUMP! Something suddenly hits me hard on the head. I turn to see my father hitting me with his liquor bottle. Any harder and the glass would have broken and i would have been lying on the ground in a pool of blood. "What" i ask him. "What are you doing outside? Oh, little girly is making a wish. Don't you have any better thing to do? Do you really think God has time to listen to your pathetic little wish? Move over before i kill you". The alchohol in his breath is enough to kill me. I inhale deeply to avoid passing out and run into the cottage i call home.<br /><br />I drift into a troubled sleep, only to wake up from dreams of absolute poverty and homelessness. They strike me every night and i wake up drenched in sweat, my heart beating faster than mortally possible. Every night i go through this.<br /><br />The next morning, as i scrub plates and deliver food to zillions of customers i spotted one of the regulars. This one, i liked looking at. He was my age, always wore loose tee shirts and jeans, with some music device and headphones poking out of one of his hundred pockets. His head seemed to move to the music and he always sat with his eyes closed til his order came.<br /><br />I walk up to him with his food and he smiles at me. I smile back. "What's your name?", he asks me. I am starled. Why would this guy actually want to talk to me? I suddenly feel conscious of my looks and shy away. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks again but i'm tongue tied. Nobody's ever wanted to talk to me before. But here is on