blink blink

So I finally cleaned out ALL my stuff . Yup, everything I own is now arranged, organised, labelled and put away.

In the nine years that I've lived in this place, I never realised how brilliant my life has been. Although, at the time it seemed horrible. I found notes, letters, writings, drawing and reciepts from people I forgot I was friends with, and places I thought were really horrible. My childhood was way cooler than I remember. Plus I've known and still am friends with like the coolest bunch of people.

Meh, enough of this soppy crap. India here I come.

Eddie was right

Holidays..hmm. I don't like them too much. I like the staying at home-no school-can do anything part of it. That's alright. But it's the going away bit I can't stand. I'm not one for traveling. With people. And movement. And schedules. And I don't like aeroplanes. Or is it airplanes? I forget... Trains are awesome though.

So anyway, it's that time of year again. We're leaving for Bangalore in 9 days and I am so not ready for this. My exam's aren't even over yet...I think this is the first cousin's-wedding I'll be attending (on the father's side ofcourse, since we made it to Roy's one last December). The reason we (Juls and I), don't seem too psyched about this, is because we're going to be the 'youngest' ones there. But the wedding and the parties are the least of our worries. Heck, we have each other so we'll survive. What I really do not like is the idea of spending the rest of the vacation in Mangalore. It's pretty and all, and we still get all the comforts of city life we're accustomed to, but come on! Just thinking about all the 'visits' we have to pay, to every single family in town, gives me a migraine. Plus my cheeks are already hurting from thinking about the number of kisses and squeezes I'm going to get for "growing up so fast!"

I'm in no mood to hear any cute tales from my childhood, or meet my mother's third cousin's sister's son's nephew thrice removed. Or get made fun of my 'accent'. The worst part is, Mangy's are obsessed about food, booze, food, music, food and weddings. Oh, did I mention food? We are forced to eat 15 different types of pork, chicken and mutton three times a day. And if we do make the mistake of saying something along the lines of:
"Oh, no thank you. I had a very heavy lunch. I'm really not hungry" ,
poor Mummy gets hauled into a conversation which starts with all or most of the following:
"Don't you feed your daughters?"

"So skinny! And still so fussy over food!"

"Don't they eat Indian food in Dhubaey (I think they mean Dubai) ? Do they find it spicy?"

"Ah! Young girls these days! So figure-conscious!"

But I think the trips to India get bearable with each passing year. I think I've just grown tolerant to everything.

*sigh. 9 days left. I better start practicing my fake-polite smiles and bug-killing moves.

Whatever, at least they get better television there.

Oh yeah, I also don't like the rains.

contemplation

Things I learnt this year:

• I'm allergic to milk/dairy products.
• I like Batman.
• Girls love chocolate. Boys love chicken. Everyone loves food.
• My spelling is terrible. I am not articulate. I have problems with apostrophe's.
• I don't have a self esteem problem.
• I hate Disco. Can't stand it. It's dead because it sucks.
• Everyone's weird.
• I like my hair.
• Boys should have fuzz on their face.
• Girl's give in to their feelings too easily, and are very 'touchy-feely'.
• I like photos.
• The 80's are back.
• Dilu's right, I care too much.
• My first impressions of people are usually wrong.
• Nishu's not a movie person. I am. So is Saad.
• Flowers are cool. Except for roses.
• Simon and Garfunkel are not gay.
• The word 'cuticles' makes people laugh.
• New Indie bands aren't indie.
• Dude doesn't get angry.
• Petrol is expensive, even for the middle-east.
• Short people tend to be very successful.
• Mr Roberts paints.
• St Michael's church needs a new strategy.

That's all I can think of for now.

the great blogging idea

So hey, here I am trying a leave a mark in cyberspace. Not sure how long I'm going to keep this up though... My handwritten 'diaries' lasted till I was about 13, and then I just got too lazy. But this blog idea has sparked up some interest for now, and I've actually taken the time to sign up and stuff. I am determined to make an effort..

So last night was Juls' prom night. woohoo. That wasn't a real, enthusiastic 'woohoo', in case you were wondering, partly because i'm not one for huge 'bimbo-jock' social gatherings, and partly because my prom wasn't all that interesting. Nish and I only went because it was 'our prom'. *sigh
So, our prom took place some time in June 2004. Mum and Dad dropped us off at Jumeirah Beach Hotel, hair curled, make-up fresh, and nervous as hell. Wafa seemed a tad surprised to see us, and my fake so-good-to-see-you-too smile quickly turned into a ooh-looky-a-big-hall grin. We rushed towards where Emily was sitting, looking like a very pretty china doll, and then spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, safe from smoke-filled air, and disturbingly loud hiphop/techno noise, which most of the Cambridge crowd refer to as music. The salad was good though...

Not oddly enough, Juls seems to have had an 'awesome' prom night. But then, most people tend to like that sort of thing. I mean, she went in a limo with 14 others kids, so. Plus, she gets along with a lot more people then I ever did. Weirdly though, we do seem to share a few traits in our 'dressing-up' routine. I think we get that from our paternal aunts. Very 'mangy' and 'rodriguesy', as we would say.

Say, this isn't too bad for my first ever blog entry huh? later then, if I do manage to keep this up.