Read THIS First ..

Read THIS First..
Each word on this blog is the original creation of the writer. You better not copy it!
No comment is directed towards any individual/group.
Happy Reading!

Tuesday, July 31, 2012

If I could...

If I could, I'd tell you
What I mean, with just a smile
Without words to say, I'd take you
In my thoughts, deeper by a mile.

If I could, I'd never think 
Twice before envisioning myself
To be in that place of my dreams
Eluding 'practicality' itself.

Pic from Google
If I could, I'd leave every
Materialistic thing, just to be
With you in your hour of need
If only this is what you'd really see.

If I could, I'd make your anger
Your sadness, your irritation, vanish
With just a feather touch and fill in love
In your heart, where it was always banished.

If I could, I'd forget what I went through
All those times I didn't know the difference
Between a friend and a fake, who
Left me with no other chance.

If I could, I'd be all what I want to be
Without a care in the world, of what
Others might see. I'd be my true self
For me, for you, for everything I ever sought.

If I could, I'd believe in this
And nothing else, begin to live again
With that zest and vigour, no pessimism
Now I think.... Maybe I can.....

Hello people! I would not have been writing this at all, had I not been down with fever and advised bed rest by the great doctor! Wait, I don't want sympathy, you know why? Because I look at it this way: I'd been into a crazy schedule for almost a month now, calculating how many months more to go (it's 23, imagine!). Not that I don't like it at all, I do. I've learned a hell lot of things in just a month and I'm very happy about it, but, I'm more of an emotional person, someone who values thoughts, feelings, emotions, love and family beyond anything else. I needed a break, for heaven's sake! I could have spent these past two days lying down because of fever, worrying over what I'm missing, but I chose not to. Really, how does it matter? I'm actually feeling relieved, that there's still something called 'normalcy' in my life. That I can get up in the morning to the sound of Mom leaving for work, have breakfast peacefully when it's not a Sunday, sit in the veranda with awesome weather and read a book, not even look at my phone all day (I wish I never had one! I dislike them so much), read a week's worth of collected newspaper supplements and have something to write about on this blog! 

I do have homework, pending assignments and all, but I can at least have a day, right? Maybe it will result in 'inefficiency', 'less marks' and 'running behind schedule', but listen, I'm not a machine and I'm not going to work like one. I was thinking this over last night, that how bad it is that because of the so called 'important' things like 'work', we have to cut down on the time we want to spend with family. Like still going to school when someone at home is ill because you have a test, or leaving for work because of an important meeting? Why? Why can't we just do what we feel like doing? Maybe we can, if we decide to forgo these materialistic benchmarks we create for ourselves. I don't want this to happen in my life and I'd make sure I make it the way I want. Seems a bit too 'impractical', right? Okay, maybe I wouldn't get the highest score and lose that high paying job. Guess what? I couldn't care less. 

Friday, July 20, 2012

Thought mismatch!

Sometimes I seriously thought I'd been born in a different place than where I was supposed to (err.. even my parents think so), but now I think I should've been posted on this planet centuries ago! At a time when human population was not so abundant and I could've walked around without bumping into some stranger every 5 seconds and being baffled with how diverse we all are. Just like I felt amazed today (in a not-very-good sense, though) at how my thinking doesn't seem to match with most, and where it does even the teeniest bit, I start loving that person like crazy! So you see, all my friends have been made because they  actually understood what I was trying to say, at some point of time.

Pic from Google. I know these are socks, not thoughts, but at least it rhymes! :P

Just to clarify things, I want to point out a few peculiar characteristics and the way I feel and behave. This can be a direct retort to anyone who judges people on how they look and behave in a closed environment (like in a classroom). Or maybe not, because no one actually has been going about being judgmental, except myself. And the one I'm judging is, well, me. See? I don't even make any sense these days. 

I love observing people, especially if there's something that catches my eye, like the color of their shirt, or a beautiful design, or their bag, or shoes, or the way they walk, talk or look. If I find them fascinating enough, I'd need someone to punch me to make me realize I've been staring far too long. I can't just help it. You know, they should be happy. They could make it to my not-yet-started-book! ;)

At this point of time, I don't care about what 'anyone would think of me if I did this'. I just don't. I'm not going to change my plans or the way I feel comfortable just for you, if you don't care to do something yourself. It's funny, because not-so-long-ago, I would've felt great pangs of sadness if I got victimized, even in a joke, but not anymore. If you think you can make me the butt of your jokes and make me feel bad about it, you're so wrong. 

I really like trendy stuff. The only thing is, I start liking them after all the hullabaloo has died down and no one wants to talk about it anymore. Or they just don't care. That puts me a year behind my peers in the way we think and what we like. So if I'm scoffing at you now, over something everyone loves, just know that I'll be 'loving it' a year later. ;)

When you notice things a lot, you see the way people treat/think of their teachers changes a bit as you get into college or afterwards. Just a bit, because I respect all teachers a lot. I don't think there's more hard work required in any field than it is in teaching. While in school, as little kids, we do everything possible to make the teacher like us (though we don't know she loves us anyway), then as we get into higher classes, we see our classmates making fun of our teachers and to gel in, we laugh at their lame jokes too. I admit that happened in college and I'm ashamed of it. Now when I'm into Post-grad college, I respect them all the more, because the effort they put in and bearing our atrocious behavior, they're doing a lot

Even though I've learned a lot from reading and it's my ultimate pleasure experience each time, it's still a tiny reason why I don't really know how to talk much. Though I shouldn't be attributing this to reading, because otherwise as well, I'm a dork-head. I mean, while walking in a group, I see people continuously speaking about something or the other, the grass, the class, the roof, the proof. I don't know how they do it! I also notice what they do, but really, I don't word it out. How there's an omlette smell in the canteen, there's just no point. And weirder still, it seems normal when I hear it from them, but it seems stupid when I will be the one to say it.

I love music with great lyrics with a soothing tune, and also that which has a lot of dance beats in it, but I can't dance. I don't. I'm too clumsy for something that beautiful. I'll be sitting somewhere off the dance floor and making up all sorts of steps in my head, but when you drag me to the floor, I wouldn't do more than just sway at the spot. Believe me, even my feet wouldn't move. I'd watch you all dancing so wonderfully and wonder why I can't and attribute it to the fact that our TV doesn't have enough music channels, rather than accepting that I haven't really tried (that's actually not true, I did learn hip-hop for four months sometime in 2010, which was a flop! Dancing and I? We're a mismatch.)

[Added later: My definition of subtlety is completely old school. There's always a fine line between what is normal behaviour and when it starts becoming insensitive/indecent. In my dictionary, this line is very fine and I hate it when anyone crosses it. Try to cross the line and I'll opt out of it.

I very well know how to 'adjust'. Just remember to be a little considerate yourself when you ask me to 'adjust']

I don't know why I've written it at all. There was something I thought of while in class (that doesn't mean I don't listen in class. I just daydream a little too much ;)), but when I actually got down to typing, I forgot and this is the result! Anyway, I still hope it'd warn you how very unstable my mental balance is, in case you still had misgivings about my intelligence. Okay, that's not true. I'm a freaking genius. See a hint of instability? ;) 

Life update: College is okay. Better at least, than before. Though our workload hasn't decreased one bit. We get off even later now, but I've convinced myself that it's okay. :) 

Thursday, July 12, 2012

Theandric Thursday # 4: Living the dream.. part 2!

Theandric Thursday is a fortnightly feature on my blog, where I'll be having fun with putting down those weird thoughts and stories that occupy my mind most of the times. The dictionary definition of 'Theandric' is 'Relating to the joint agency of the divine and human nature'.

If you're interested in participating, write your own Theandric Thursday post and drop your link in the comments section. Feel free to write reality, part-reality-part-fiction or fiction, anything above the 'normality' of our world. ;) You can use the above picture on your post and link back to this post.

Hey, I know I was supposed to post this last week, but you know what I'm going through, right? Some sympathy please. ;) As it is, this part of the story is very long. So I won't chit chat more, you just leave whatever you're doing and read this! :P

This story is continued from TT post #3, Living the dream...and something else.

I hadn’t realized when it got so cold. I was shivering, but maybe that was only fear. As much as they were terrifying, my eyes were still drawn to the four white, beautiful creatures towering over me. Who was this one? Blond hair, almond shaped brown eyes and red lips forming a tight line.

“I’ve seen you before!” I blurted out, not being able to control that emotion anymore. If I’m already stuck with these weirdos, I might as well know who they are.. or what. The female stepped perilously close and snapped, “Oh Goddamit! Not again! Does this look like a fancy party to you?” I winced. She was too close for comfort. I could feel the distinct smell of salt in her. Weird. “Just shut your questions and tell me, what is it that Lomar’s after?”

Despite all the nerves, I couldn’t help being surprised. Lomar. It was a very familiar word.... a very familiar name. Though, there isn’t really anyone I know who’s called Lomar. It was a distinct memory, something I thought I could put behind if I never thought about it again, I didn’t want to. If these creatures are connected to him, I was sure I was in for something really unpleasant.

“I don’t want to talk about it” I barely whispered. But that was enough. She was literally nose to nose. This wasn’t the response she was after, I realized as she caught me by the shoulders and pressed her nails into my skin. “You’ll have to. There’s no time. Tell me now!” she hissed, her salty breath on my cheeks. The next moment, she released me. The familiar guy, whom I decided to call FG in my head, stepped forward.

I might have missed what he said had I not been looking at him, he spoke so softly. You would think it was just one of those lost words and whispers carried by the wind. “Listen, I look like Liam Hemsworth, don’t I?” Gosh! That’s it! I’d been gaga over that character ever since I saw the Hunger Games! What is Liam Hemsworth of all people up in a tree house with me, not to forget three other scary creatures and doesn’t even look like a human!

“But,” I stuttered. He was unsmiling when he put up his hand all tired-like, as if I’d already exhausted him, and continued. “I’m not him, of course, which is where our truth comes in. We’re ancient Aymara* people who...” He stopped seeing my awed expression, since I was sure my jaw had dropped listening to the words ‘ancient’ and ‘Aymara’. He continued and I noticed his voice had taken on a slightly higher pitch. “Hey! Don’t go on looks. I know this must be hard for you but you have to understand. And that would be easier if you just listened to me, alright?” He settled himself on one of the soft pillows, so we were face to face. I didn’t fail to notice the female twitch, though. The other two simply stood staring at FG, whom now I mentally referred to as LLH, short for ‘Lookalike of Liam Hemsworth’. I nodded and he spoke. “Maybe you don’t know, but Aymara are traditionally people living in and around Lake Titicaca in South America, since centuries before outsiders discovered our abode in 1535. Our great ancestors did their best to make them leave us alone, but they wouldn’t budge. They loved the Lake, but only because it’s a convenient waterway for their big steamers, not for reasons our ancestors worshipped the Lake and worked so hard to preserve its sanctity.

Lake Titicaca. Pic courtesy: The all mighty Google!
 “Anyway, there was one particular outsider who found an unnaturally high interest in our beliefs. Our ancestors knew better, of course. He wasn’t someone to be trusted, they could look right through his pretence. He pretended to be interested in becoming one of us, he said he wanted to worship our Lord, Viracocha*. They tried all means to send him away to his country and when our ancestors were successful, they celebrated. However, the celebration didn’t last long, for the land was swarming with bloodsuckers a few days later. They came in hundreds and started killing our people off. The few of our ancestors who managed to survive by running to their special hiding places, later realized that the creatures were vampires sent by the intruder, who was agitated at being turned down. The Aymaras, furious at their loss, tracked down the intruder and killed him off. They returned to their land, which now reeked of blood and loss and worse, a few hundred of their population who were just bitten, not killed. Those bitten were kept in cellars and behind bars for a while.

“You can imagine the plight of the ancestors; they had to keep their own wives, husbands, friends and children, tied up and confined because they suspected they would be dangerous. However, the bitten ones, like they were called in those days, never showed signs of meanness, anger or evil. The ancestors thanked their Lord, for they believed that the magic, love and purity of their lord Viracocha was too powerful for vampires. There were signs, of course. They looked different, like vampires, to be precise. Like us. Thus was created a new mix, and we were born to our parents almost 60 years ago. We have a mixed blood, so we grow very slowly. Sometimes we get bored with the way we look, so we sneak up to humans in different countries, take a part of their skin and through a painless process, we start looking like them. Anyway, a few years ago, as was predicted by our ancestors, we had some intruders. They didn’t attack, but one of them wanted to be a part of our community. We aren’t as smart as our ancestors, but we know their teachings. This was almost like the case of the previous intruder, just Deja Vu, and so we tried to capture and kill this one before he could leave. Nasty business, but we couldn’t have vampires raiding our land again. Due to a real sad case of inattentiveness, the intruder escaped.

“You know what happened then, don’t you?” LLH spoke like wind. The way he said, it wasn’t a question. It was a fact I had to acknowledge. He put one hand on my knee and as I glanced down, I saw how bad I was shaking. There were goosebumps on my arms and I had trouble breathing. I realized he was trying to calm me down. How touching. What did he say about his age? 60? Damn! Before I knew, I was speaking in a voice that seemed totally unlike my own, a mechanical one like a robot. “I’ve seen all this many months ago. All in my dreams, or call them nightmares, for that’s what they were. This whole story you recited, you could’ve saved your breath, I know this. I saw this. He stayed on the land 10 days, hiding in a spot very near your shrine of Lord Viracocha. One night, seeing his opportunity, he dived into the Lake and stayed there 5 hours 49 minutes, finally emerging with a golden cup laid with silver at the rim, kissed it once and took off. The Aymaras didn’t realize something was wrong until after a few months when their people started suffering. There were health problems and they had a hard time performing the simplest of magic. Their prayers weren’t answered. All this while, he misused the power and made hundreds of slaves. That intruder is Lomar, who’s been torturing people all over the world.” I finished speaking. All was quiet as they all stared at me. Some parts of this story must be new to them, I thought.

The female was the first to recover. “I can’t believe this! A human?” She used the word as if it was like acid on her tongue. LLH leaned forward, making me shiver involuntarily. “Are you sure that’s what Lomar took? Our Lord’s most precious tool?” His voice was almost breaking, as if he couldn’t believe something of this magnitude could ever happen. “I didn’t know that’s Viracocha’s most precious tool, but that’s what I saw,” I whispered. He brushed his hand over his blond head, the one that was on my knee, I realized with a pang, an expression of agony distorting his features. I had to blink twice and shake my head to understand what he was saying next. “You realize we tracked you down with great difficulty. There was certainly a glitch in Lomar’s plan. Your dreams and your head wasn’t affected by the immunity curse he spread all over.” He smiled. “You’re special, you know that?” I couldn’t help smiling.

“All right!” came a harsh voice and the female, whom I mentally called the SI, short for ‘Stupid Intruder’, pulled LLH up by her side and continued, “We’re going to track him down, because you don’t possibly know where he is, do you?” I shook my head. “Fine” she snapped, turned away and held LLH’s arm, pulling him along with her, out of my tree house. Thankfully, LLH had the sense to stop and say something. “Hey, you know your information is immensely helpful. I’ll try... I mean,” he glanced back with a shy smile, “we will try our best not to come looking for you again. Hopefully, we’ll have Lomar killed before you next go to sleep.” He winked, smiled and stepped down the ladder Xavi made. His cronies followed him dully. Huh, interesting company he keeps, I thought.

I peeked over the side of the tree house, but couldn’t see LLH or SI or anyone anymore. Seeing a shadow of movement on the left, I snapped my head over to that side, only to see Xavi looking angry. “You were supposed to meet me at 7!” he called from below. “We’ll be late for dinner. Better get down here right now and don’t whine all the way when I ask you to walk faster!” Great. I wished LLH could be here, if only for his speed and strength, so I wouldn’t have to walk all the way with my over-sentimental brother. As we walked anyway, I let my mind wander to Lake Titicaca, Aymaras and their Lord Viracocha, the white and bearded representative of the Sun on Earth, carrying all his worshippers’ troubles in his gold and silver magical cup. I found myself wishing LLH would find and execute Lomar, that demon, and retrieve the cup.

So many things happen in life, that you can’t really keep track of it all. That’s why some information is repeated to you in your dreams so that when the time comes for a varied breed of an ancient magical community to visit you for information, you’d know what to say.


*Aymaras are real people in Lake Titicaca who really worship Lord Viracocha. The story’s mine, of course, based on what I read about the Aymara people. Nothing like the sort happened, really. :P The inspiration came when I was reading about Lake Titicaca in the book, 'Discovering the Wonders of our World' by Reader's Digest. 

PS- Please. Do. Not. Kill. Me. For. This. Crazy. Story. And. The. Length. I mean, you have to understand, right? I’ve written something after weeks! The weight of emotions would be something! ;)

Read Usama's awesome Theandric Thursday post 'The Girl at the Bus Stop'

Friday, July 6, 2012

An update on Life!

Hi Guys! And Hi blog! I missed you so much! I'm hoping you haven't all left my blog (metaphorically, of course, since I can still see you as "Members"), considering pathetically low blog activity. Believe me, there isn't anyone as depressed as I am when I think of no activity on my blogs. I was being tortured busy with the new college this past week, what with all the horrible amounts of assignments and homework. Plus the classes that end at 3 (ha!) just a couple of days and at 5 almost all days (*wailing*) plus having classes even on Saturdays (*banging head on the wall*) plus well, let's just not get into it. I haven't read a book this past week (and I just remembered I am supposed to review "Poor Little Rich Slum" by Rashmi Bansal and Deepak Gandhi by Sunday and I haven't even started with it), I haven't been able to read any blog posts, commenting and replying to mails and stuff. Heck, I haven't even properly interacted with my family members this week. I mean, no sibling fight either. Now you know what I'm talking about. :| 

By the way, whichever idiot said that MBA would be easy, just get over that not-so-true notion. I'm just trying to desperately hold on to live life as normally as possible. Needless to say I need to work a lot in that aspect. It's nowhere near normal at the moment. *Controlling emotions* I'm getting carried away. I didn't plan to crib about it, but it's like that presently. And I'm a cribbing expert, so yeah, I'll say it. Thank you blog. And super duper friends who're reading this! You're awesome! And I feel like a tremendous load has been shifted much better now. Thanks! ;)

So now, cutting the rona dhona, I just wanted to tell you how much I'm missing this mindless posting, not that I would have anything intelligent to talk about anyway, what with having to use up all the portions of my tiny brain in classes and homework. There are so many posts I had lined up (just the ideas, I haven't written any) on both my blogs and I'm missing typing all this so much. Really God, I have never before appreciated a Sunday more than now. Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!! I have so many unread books lying here and there, since I haven't even been able to set the small bookshelf or do anything human either.

Tell me, don't you hate it when you don't get the time to pursue your hobbies? When there are people who want to dictate how you should spend your time? I mean, that's the horribly horrible idiotically non-sensible worst part about it all. I absolutely loathe strict schedules, and that's what I'm getting. :'( At least the time when classes are over, I should get to do my own thing. But I get home at 6 (minimum) and then get busy with homework. When will I read? Or blog? Or write stories? Or learn French? Or learn about Mountaineering, which is something I want to do now. 

I've started cribbing again. Sorry for making this a sad, sorry post. I'm hoping I'll get used to it very soon and find out ways to multi-task or do some work on-the-go so that I'm able to get some "me" time. Like today, thank goodness! Even though I have loads to do, I couldn't just stop myself from much needed cribbing writing here and getting to know what you've been up to! Tello please! What have you been doing? If you've been through this stage, tell me, does it get better? I mean, I'm enjoying the tiniest bit at the moment, but I'm hoping it gets much better soon and I'm able to live the usual normal life, at least when I'm home. And *realization*, DU is the best! :P If you're there or in any under-graduation college, please enjoy to the fullest. It wouldn't be anything like it later. I swear.

Hoping for better days ahead.

Which reminds me of two quotes by Dumbledore (Harry Potter, people!), which are among my top favorites!

"It is the unknown we fear when we look upon death and darkness, nothing more."

"Happiness can be found in the darkest of nights, if only one remembers to turn on the light."


[Adding this later: was listening to some songs I used to sing along a few years ago and realized that 'Every Part of Me' by Miley Cyrus is the one for me at the moment!]

Also, in case you haven't noticed, I was supposed to do the fourth Theandric Thursday post this Thursday (which was yesterday, in case you haven't noticed that either). I'll post it tomorrow or on Sunday and that is a promise, to myself and to you. :) And if you're interested in participating, you can do so any day this week. Check out the previous Theandric Thursday posts if you don't know what I'm talking about! (TT#1, TT#2, TT#3).

PS- Wish me luck!

PPS- Apologies for all the honesty felt words strike-throughs.

Sunday, July 1, 2012

Musing over dreams...

Even though I have really vivid dreams which I would really like to record and watch them when I wake up, I do not usually remember many details after the first few seconds of waking up. Which is why I always ask my family people not to do rash things in the morning that might wake me up all of a sudden, which brings on the conscious way too fast and I don't seem to remember a single piece of my sweet sweet dreams. :( It's then that I feel like a night has been wasted, that I was in a parallel world and I want to know what all there was and I can't help feeling mad at the one who's barged into my room, switched on the light and opened the drawers with so much noise, looking for something that I don't care a thing about. It's usually my brother and if by any chance I yell at him, the only remnants of the dream are lost, as if frustrated with my yelling, they've taken it back. 

Vacations are a different thing, though. I get to sleep in late and if I wake up on my own, I spend a few minutes remembering the details. That's what I did today as well and I'm surprised at how our innermost emotions get combined with all the stories we feed our brains during the day and bring forth unique dreams and experiences in our minds. I'm reading a book called 'The Secret Life of Bees' by Sue Monk Kidd (which, by the way, is so brilliant that every reader must have a copy of it. I'll be buying one too, since the one I have is borrowed from a library. And I haven't even read it full yet, but I'm giving it a 5/5 already! And I saw it's been made into a movie too. I'm going to buy that too). It's about a fourteen year old white girl who lost her mother when she was four and her dad isn't what we would say, a 'dad'. He's abusive and Lily, tired with everything, takes off with Rosaleen, their black house help, towards a town she knew her mother had been once. Among the many topics addressed is that of racism (this one is the second book I've read the previous month on racism), how the colored people are treated by whites. It's sure more of Lily's story, who is now living with three black women plus Rosaleen and she loves them so much that she feels sorry the white treat them bad.

Then we had a new show on TV starting last night, I don't even remember the name, the one where people tell true paranormal related stuff that happened with them. The funny thing is, I knew I would be seeing things at night if I watch that program, the same way when I read some scary scene in a book at night and then I'm afraid to even go to brush my teeth and the bathroom is one meter away, hardly! But I watched it anyway and it had a couple who bought a sprawling mansion with wide glass full wall-size windows and open area, with the sea view in front. I thought of it as an ideal place for myself, except that I wouldn't be crazy enough to build it that big and have two people living in it. Considering my over active imagination, it would probably scare me to death, paranormalcy or not. 

Anyway, the point is, I had a dream that combined these two plus those fears we don't really know we have, they're etched so deep that they come out in your dreams, making you run, trip, fall over, and other things that suggest you're insecure or something. (I haven't read any of this anywhere. This is what I think happens and if it matches with what really happens, that's another reason to call myself a born genius ;))

I wanted a new house to live in and so we shifted. It was big with too many windows for my liking, even a full sized one in the front, but there was no sea. It was just like the neighborhood we lived in before and the only thing that seemed different was that it was now made of glass, almost. Windows everywhere. Even though I liked the house, I felt too exposed, as if the house isn't offering shelter, but a view for prying outsiders who would peep in through one of the windows and see what we're doing. This detail terrified me, for if there's anything I can't live without, it's my privacy and my time. I cannot have strangers knowing how we lived or what I was doing at a particular moment. Which is what happened. Wherever I went, I closed the windows and pulled the locks in their sockets, though since it was a glass window, people could still see if they wanted to. I guess we were on the upper floor and even then I felt the need to shut and lock every window wherever I went. Tears streamed down as I did the same shutting and locking repeatedly and the windows I had previously shut stood open next time I came around. I would see prying faces, trying to peek in secretly, but I, being observant enough to notice a flinch, knew what they were up to. I tried communicating it to my parents, who didn't much think of it at first, but with my insistence, Mom scolded a boy who seemed to live in the house behind ours, with a few feet in between our back windows. He swore he didn't peek in, but I knew he wasn't innocent. I remember bawling and yelling and asking for curtains to be put on the windows, which we didn't seem to have! (Writing it down makes it sound even scarier! :P)

The other thing was that it wasn't just my family who were staying, but it changed into a big house where dark skinned people lived and we were just some people who've come there for shelter, but unlike Lily, it wasn't comforting to me. Much. No, it's not the color thing, I don't give a damn to where a person belongs, unless they have a kind heart, but it were the windows that were terrifying me. My life was too exposed, but also kind of shut off and the really weird thing was, even my Facebook account had vanished! I had to create a new one and they had avatars for us to choose, which ranged from totally white cartoons, darkening in shade gradually with many browns in between, finally settling to pitch black. I had lost all my contacts and even though I used my real, full name, others seemed to be having made-up weird names that didn't make sense. I chose a white avatar for myself, but Mom made me choose a brown one, saying that I should consider where I'm now living, which is what I am now. All the while I moved onto a new avatar to test, there would be tribal Indian music in the background and the cartoon on the screen (not even on any device. I guess it just floated mid-air) jumped and broke bricks like Mario. This is all completely weird since I'm not what they call a 'white' person. I'm an Indian and an Asian and for the total racists, maybe belong to the other category. I guess it was so I could completely get into Lily's life and understand her predicament, since she lived in fear of being caught and prayed to Mary to have a curtain around the house to keep her safe. 

It's amazing what brains can do and even though it was scary, I am very happy to get a little more deeper into what makes my dreams. It's what I feed my brain during the day and it either gets it all muddled up or creates a form where I can understand things better. Really, there's no such pleasure as reading and dreaming. :)

Random question: Have you ever noticed what we wear in dreams? It's one of the mysteries I've not yet grasped. I never notice this one detail.

Just an update, if you care to know about what I'm doing: New college starts tomorrow and I haven't done a thing! I mean, it's just like today's another vacation day and tomorrow I'll get up and just go. As of this moment, I'm not really excited, for I'm afraid I might not get the time to write and read and blog and lie in bed a few more minutes to remember the dream and write it down. :| I haven't even made any other papier mache object yet, nor have I created more bookmarks (I made three and then got more crafts materials to make more, but didn't get down to it). Who will do that now? I'm desperately wanting hoping to join a weekend hobby class because it's now a part of me. I cannot live without ECAs, whatever it might be. The idea of "just" studying gives me the shudders. *Shudders anyway* - involuntary! Wish me luck!


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