I am a sissy,whiny,unhappy,bored girl with reverse eating disorder and 15-something obsession with cribbing about anything and everything under the sun at the moment. And dear reader, you have to put up with me if you don’t decide to hit the Back button and get the hell out of here.
It’s raining incessantly these days. I hate rain. They create a sense of deep-seated foreboding in me. The heady smell of damp earth, the cool blast of wind against your face, the way the insides of your nostrils go cool when you take a deep breath-everything unsettles me deeply. I do a horrible job of describing the rain and that nettles my OCD self more. The brotha was listening to depressingly beautiful songs the day the first shower took place and I had half a mind to go and jump off the roof.No I am not exaggerating and I am not really sorry if I come across to you as a mildly autistic,attention-seeking 16 something brat.
AK has left for Frankfurt.With promises of bringing back dark Swiss chocolates and German beer.Much yayness to that.
Correction: I did exaggerate at the ‘promises’ part.
One of the very few things that keep me going these days is the ATP meetings. All our meetings take place at Lake CCD.Which means, great coffee, incomprehensible sleep-inducing music,warm comfortable bean bags,fun,laughter,taking down notes at breakneck speed etcetera. The ennui takes a beating when I meet these guys.
Our newly phoren-returned neighbour’s wife has a weird fake accent making it difficult to follow what she’s saying. She claims to have forgotten Bengali after having lived for 23 years in Madhyamgram and 7 years in Michigan,shudders at anything remotely Bengali,listens to Mahler and never leaves a chance to show pictures of her old house to whoever drops by. I have already seen pictures of her wooden panelled floors,bathtubs( beautiful ones I admit), patio etc. Sometimes I wonder why they’d returned. The poor woman clearly hates her new house. They now live in a cramped three bedroom flat,where the maid rings the bell at 6 in the morning followed by the jharudar(sweeper) who hollers to her for the dustbin and the newspaper boy who whistles. The kid has already picked up a Bangla word or two much to her mother’s disdain and insists on being served aamer aachar( mango pickle) for lunch. Rumor has it that her husband,a techie found it difficult to make ends meet and decided to return before he gets the pink slip.
Everybody has exams these days. Gah!
The Boy got me How I Met Your Mother season 2,3 and4, The Big Bang Theory and a couple of movies(after much snicker and disdainful glances). My life revolves around my room,the dining table,tv,the laptop and the bed. I rarely go out(read : Am dragged out),hardly socialize,wear mang old clothes and sit like a grumpy grinch in busses,walk on random roads like a lost stoned person,stare blankly at distant spaces and crawl back to my den at the end of the day-listless,indifferent.I keep telling myself it’s a phase-an unproductive,super-tiresome one at that.
Now I’ll sign out before you start contemplating to or actually kick my posterior.