Blog Update #1 – Sunshine Blogger Award

Miss Shodha had nominated me for the Sunshine Blogger Award back in February 2017. Actually it is Shwetha, spelt Shweta but isn’t Shodha so much better? (I’ve called her that since school).
She writes tiny tales, poetry, and literally ‘anything under the sun that has caught her attention’. This might be a good time to mention that I almost immediately get to know when she has read a post of mine, because my phone hangs up from the deluge of notifications. It’s time to return the favor 😛 – check out her blog My Random Ramblings. 😀

Anyway, if any of my readers (especially non-blogger friends) find the idea of virtual awards in the blogosphere ridiculous, it almost is. (An award would be nothing but a picture you would have to copypaste from your friend’s Award Post onto your own Acknowledgement post. Like so : sunshine-award1.jpg

Thankyou Shodha for this picture (yet another attempt at murdering my phone), and for neglecting my neglect and nominating me for a second Award. I loved answering your questions 😀

But then the idea is networking and references (linking back) and the like, you get the point, so it falls short at almost.

The Rules.

  • Thank the person(s) who nominated you in a blog post and link back to their blog
  • Answer the 11 questions sent by the person who nominated you
  • Nominate 11 new blogs to receive the award and write them 11 new questions
  • List the rules and display the Sunshine Blogger Award logo on your post and/or on your blog

Shodha’s Questions :

1. Do you remember why and when you decided to be a blogger?

Of course I remember. I also wrote a post about it just in case the blog ruined my life and I couldn’t recollect whose fault it was.

2. If it were so that you can listen to just one song on repeat for the rest of your life, which song would you choose?

Velikku Veluppan Kaalam or Neeraduvan.

3. Which Hogwarts house do you think you would be sorted out into? (Sorry if you aren’t a Harry Potter fan! 😛 I had to pay homage to my favourite book series! :D)

Ravenclaw 😀

4. Who is your favourite author?

Confession : After Paulo Coelho back in 8th, I haven’t followed any author/series religiously. But Khaled Hosseini can make anyone cry, so.

5. Which famous person do you wish you could be neighbours with?

Sherlock Holmes.

6. If you could bring a fictional character to life, who would it be? (Also, please do explain the reason why you chose them!)

Sherlock Holmes. Then be neighbors with him. Then ask Professor Watson if I can work with him on his blog.
I (too) hate myself for saying that, let’s not sabotage the plot.

7. If your blog had a playlist, what songs would be included?

Despacito, Iris, The Middle, Hawa Hawai, An Irish Party in Middle Class, Pinneyum Pinneyum, Love you Zindagi, Tonight I know, Up & Up, Hymn for the Weekend, Chinna Chinna Asai, Budapest, Hey Soul Sister, Did I Take this Question too Seriously?

8. Do you have a favourite book-to-film adaptation? If so, which one?

Any adaptation that I liked was only because I read the book after watching the movie, or because I never read the book I think. I can watch Chamber of Secrets over and over cos of the former.

9. If the world were to end tomorrow, what would you do today?

1.Have a panic attack
2.Remember everyone’s dying so it’s alright
3.Gather my family, which might take a while since it’s a big one now
4.Ring up friends one by one to tell them I was off Whatsapp during the last couple of months, sorry for no messages, I love you.
OH that was a good one, Shodha.

10. Name your favourite TV show and at least two reasons as to why you think it’s awesome.

I hardly watch any these days, so favorite YouTuber? Ryan Higa. Original content. Doesn’t post bullshit even if that means losing out on views(=ads=revenue).

11. What’s your greatest fear?

You know the incidents you feel guilty about thinking they were your fault? And you have nightmares about them? Just me? Okay. Greatest fear is coming to know they’re true.

nominate :

Nipun – Road to Roadblock

Anu

Frank Prem

Laya – My Black Rusted Harp

Owning a dog with anxiety

Niall O’ Donnell

Sunith – Perceptions

InspiresN

My Questions:

1. Is there a country you have always wanted to visit, and if so, where?

2. What do you do on a rainy day?

3. What is your favorite book, or if you prefer, your favorite author?

4. What four people would you invite to a dinner party (contemporary, historical, or fictional)?

5. If you could live in a book/tv show/movie, which one would you pick and why?

6. How did you start blogging?

7. What’s the story behind your blog name?

8. If you could talk to your younger self, what would you say?

9. Is there anything you would change/delete from your past?

10. Do you play an instrument?

11. If the world were to end tomorrow, what would you do today?

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Life Updates

OKAY LONG TIME NO POST.

Life Update 1 : Youtuuuuuuuuube!
Today, I’m a 13 year old girl that wants to marry Ryan Higa.

I always believed the best bloggers are the ones who tell you a lot about their lives without telling you much about themselves. You’d know if you know. I’m not so sure if I believe in that theory anymore, also I’ve been out of touch with WordPress for a while (Life Update No.2).
Also I deleted Whatsapp and have been off of Facebook and Instagram (Life Update No. 3).

I recently realized I have friends check my blog when jobless or something because apparently it’s more hassle-free than texting (calling I can maybe understand but texting, seriously). Also when have I put up Life Updates on my blog? Yeah okay.

Somebody said I should be happy since I get more views.

See thing is, I’m not at that point in life where I’d rather have views than messages.

Some day I’ll edit out and post the 21 drafts from my PC and the 19 from my phone’s Evernote. Some day I’d prefer blog visits over personal messages. That day, dear readers, is not today.

Maybe if I were getting paid, but I’m not. So like I said, not at that point.

Yet.

Also why I’m not responding to the Sunshine Blogger Award Shweta nominated me for. I don’t really get awards, but then again I don’t get them either. But thankyou Shodha 😀 Will reply and nominate soon enough. I find the Award-nominate-stuff lingo interesting for want of a better word.

(Update: Sunshine Blogger Award)

Also I cannot work on the lap for long since I got specs last month (Life Update No. 4) and it hurts, I should’ve seen that coming since the movie marathon that began as a part of my personal New Year Celebration got diversified and extended to over 2 months. From Notting Hill to Youtube to my Path to Slow but Sure Blindness.

I deleted all superfluous apps from my phone right after I got diagnosed with myopia – okay it’s just shortsightedness but it’s not just shortsightedness, it’s the onset of you know what. In my case that is, I just know it.

With specs on, I look like the annoyingly prodding kid that goes “What’s this? What’s that? Why is this like this? Why is that like that?” I hate them too.

Life Update No. 5 : Youtube  (To whomsoever it may concern, just to be clear I’m not getting paid for this, or for anything else I do as a matter of fact)

If you’re from Trivandrum, and especially if away from home, you should watch Uppum Mulakum 😀

Lilly Singh – funn and relatable if you’re from India. Oh look at me all fancy pretending to have non-Indian readers. Slowly realize it’s for high school kids, so move on to..

Brandon Rogers – OFFENSIVE. Savage more often than not. Cusses a lot. Scary shit at times. Not for the faint-hearted (I skip some of it truly madly deeply). Or the easily offended. Or the nice people. But genuinely cleverly creative – makes you go “I COULD NEVER HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT” if you’re me but then you’re not me so I guess there’s no point but you’d know if you know.

Ryan Higa – Clean, neat, smash. Puns and sarcasm, creativity and I might as well add good looks. I’m a bad advertiser and an even worse seller, but it is more than fart jokes trust me.

I don’t mean to sound racist or anything, but I didn’t know you could crush on Chinese/Japanese/Korean guys. Something about that sounds racist, especially those chinky hashes, I think.

I had a couple of friends who’d go all K-Popish lockish someish and I distinctly remember watching a couple of their videos in school after Sreya mentioned it, they look great but again, they all look alike. Now I know I just never tried. Did I mention I’m a troubled 13 year old girl today.

If you’re racist like I used to be, you’d find Ryan Higa similar to all the other Chinese/Japanese/Korean guys. Except Jackie Chan and PSY and the Pen-Pineapple-Apple-Pen guy. OH GOD that sounds like the most racist thing I’ve ever read. But then he’s American so not even.

And he’s funny. Also, he dances.

*dies*

Just Between Us – Um, the best?

PS : Life Updates are cool, but I hope you know they aren’t what they claim to be. Nothing on the internet is. Thanks.

Back when we were kids

Before college and high school, before crushes and heartbreaks, before Science got split into three different subjects and Social Studies into two, even before we were taught integers and fractions.  Back when we wanted to grow up. Back when we were kids.

If you ever followed the road opposite to the Ganapathi temple in Medical College back then, you’d reach the Medical College quarters. It’s where more than half my childhood lies, it’s also where I decided I didn’t want to marry Kunjacko Boban after all.

I was the annoying little sister who cried on cue and made sure my elder brothers were scolded and punished by my parents for mischief that I’d worked up – that’s what my brothers would tell you anyway. Served them right too, they called me fat all the time. But either way I was still the little sister, with a tiny potbelly I’ll admit, and could always be seen seated on Achu Annans shoulders or carried by Kannenan on his back 😀

Biju chetan and Aju chetan were the neighbours Kannan and I spent most of our time with. (yes they’re brothers). We were undeclared best buddies, with a share of harmless details of our exploits to be kept secret from both our parents. We were always present at each other’s birthdays. In those days it meant Birthday cake with icing from Jayaram bakery, the quintessential puffs and cutlets and samosas, homemade chicken curry/parotta, juice and icecream etc.

We usually waited for our parents to leave before kicking off with cricket in their compound. We bowled with the 8rs pink/white rubber balls or the more expensive optic yellow tennis ball for 30 rupees that was handled with more care. I was always the underdog, Kannan never took me on his team. Achu annan occasionally joined us, he was nicer and always picked me. I’m sure the rejection scarred me for life. Though it made more sense when we played football, cos I always ran away with the ball, err, in my hands, that is. Football was too boring for me anyway.

I owned like one doll or two whose faces I had disfigured in an attempt to beautify, you don’t sit inside playing with those when everyone else is outdoors. At times when I got bored I’d sell fish on the back steps of our house. Different shaped and sized leaves painstakingly stacked and arranged neatly, I’d diligently make sure no flies sat on them and that my customers got the best and the freshest picks. No none of the boys ever visited, even my parents never visited though I always invited them very nicely. I don’t think they were all that impressed.

When corporation people unloaded sand in front of Biju chetan’s garage, the others would jump from the low sunshade onto it while I would nonchalantly prepare mudcakes using cherattas (coconut shells) and coax anybody who’d care to taste them. Yeah nobody ever did.

When it got too hot to play outside, we played Video games (cartridges and joysticks, people?) at their place. The four of us would huddle in front of the tv. Countless runs of Mario and duck hunt and I don’t even remember the names of the rest of the games we played. Afternoons meant more cricket/video games followed by cycling/badminton at our place in the evening. We usually went back home only for lunch and in the evening when it got too dark and the games were over. Sometimes we’d fall asleep on their beds, nobody was ever home in the day, even otherwise it was okay I think. Anita aunty was always so sweet (still is), she gave us the best birthday gifts and even had me cutting her son’s birthday cake once.

During vacations when everyone else left for holidays, we’d be in empty quarters abandoned by their residents, plundering the guava and mango trees there, checking intermittently and listening intently for any sign of intruders, other than us, of course. At times we’d bring back home the fruits of our labour the parents never noticed. We made tons of envelopes using newspapers and cooked rice –it was our mini project-, wondered what to do with it and eventually sold it to the lady fishmonger who routinely visited our homes (she gave us 2rupee coins each)  😀 Any spare change we ever got was spent in buying and stocking pink rubber balls, once we started playing they got lost so often, and eating the round pedas at the Milma shop in the main road.

When we weren’t playing or searching for the umpteen lost cricket balls on the other side of the road, Kannan and I were busy fighting, physical mental material psychological every kind of possible damage included. Following which I obligingly cried to let my parents know. They knew, I think.

All our plots had mango trees and during summer seasons we’d eat fat and ripe orange and yellow mangoes raw and pulpy in the morning, noon, evening and at night.

We were forever sweaty and covered in dirt, always running around and shouting to each other loudly, sometimes across goalposts (always a distinguishable rock), or from opposite sides of the wicket (3 aluminium rods each) or the court net (that we had a proper one though), or even across compounds. We always got home after dusk, exhausted and happy. We’d shower, eat, watch Doordarshan and fall asleep somewhere in between. Unless we decided to fight, which was twice a day, followed by my drama.

Those were the days when happiness meant wearing your favorite dress on your birthday, and the prettiest and nicest strangers were the ones that smiled at you. When soiling your clothes was the way to be and nobody minded except the elders. When summer didn’t mean heat as much as it meant cricket and cousins and mangoes. And spending all the time under the sun were 4 (and at times 5) tiny people forever playing and fighting and laughing.

And I’m mighty glad we were loud enough for a lifetime 🙂

Convocation and other things

Late post. Wrote this on convocation day of batch of 2015.

Convocations are fun. Not only cos there are hats and cloaks (and of course graduation) involved. They bring back seniors you’ve waited months to see again, they probably bring together classmates who passed out, planned a reunion whose date was extended over and over again until finally they just settled to meet for their convocation. (I can imagine that happening with our batch once we pass out of college). They might even be when some dearest couples meet after okwhoamitojudge. I’m sure convocations have other functional facets too, more on that coming up next year cos next in line is yours truly.

Convocation at CET last year was not a very emotional affair for me, save for meeting a handful of passouts. Back then, we were still third years (read: careless juniors), following the paths of seniors (I’m not even going to elaborate on that, and no I’m not winking), we were yet to be acquainted with project work and hectic final year schedules (no mini project for civil, baby). Life was good.

You had to rush to civil canteen at 4 if you wanted to sit by its verandah cos usually seniors would already have seated themselves there. Most evenings there’d be student groups comprising all batches in the civil grounds discussing some intra-department event or program. And in my class, everyone was either co-ordinating something or partaking in some other thing or they were swamped with other stuff to be doing any of those things. CEA and ICI would juggle with dates and time slots to make sure their activities didn’t clash, and even so there would still be overlaps, cos there was always so much going on, big or small, whether it be Hanging Gardens, or some techie engagements.

Then we got to S7, and before the place had livened up, rather fateful things happened. In stead of the tons of heads that filled college front after 4 and the after-college hours punctuated by crowds and buzz at chechi kadas, sanika, core’s front, bus stops and pretty much everywhere, there permeated empty and quiet. All through S7 we waited for things to go back to normal and for college to go back to what it used to be.

It never did.

Today, convocation happened. And frankly, today’s the first day of this year that college felt like CET again. People were shouting and laughing and their uproars rang noisily in the classrooms and the corridors and all around the place. College hasn’t been this loud since last year. So many familiar faces, there were seniors whose names I didn’t know and still don’t, but the mere freshness of familiarity brought happiness. Even that scary chechi who always glares at you, or that creepy chetan who makes awkward eye contact.

The favorite seniors were hugged and kissed, the not-so-favorite ones smiled as if in solemn awareness. In the beginning of final year, it was as though we’d get used to the numbness felt around college but today we realized we really need a batch of loving doting annoying infuriating seniors to make it the CET we knew. They were back and I guess that’s when we realized we’d actually missed these people. Sure, some in particular, but generally just all of them being present here. Probably because they were a part of the carefree years when college was (relatively) lively. When we didn’t have career discussions looming over our heads 24×7, because that wasn’t our burden to bear :P. Because basically they were in charge, and they were everywhere.

Today was like a day from ‘those days’. So when you hear that the dragonfly you once had a crush on has flown back, it thrills for a while, then dies out. When you exchange with seniors pleasantries and what’s going on in your lives, it’s only casual talk. It’s like they were here only yesterday, they’re here today, and they’ll be back tomorrow.

Well guess what? They won’t, and tomorrow will be like the past 7 months have been (because I’m so bloody optimistic). But today was good, tomorrow we’ll be back to being final years, the day after we shall part ways and be gone. And the next year, it’ll be our turn to get dewy-eyed about all that we’d missed (or maybe that’ll be just me), heartily complain about our too loose/too tight cloaks, drown in hugs, pose for pictures, cheer in jubilation, throw our hats up in the sky, and finally wonder why we never realized life here was quite brilliant*.

*I hope.

 

 

Finally starting My Blog

Final year/semester of B.Tech –

You realize you don’t want to work an IT job or a Core job or any jobby job for that matter. Babies aren’t really your thing, they cry too much, would somebody pay you to take care of puppies? You realize you are now 21, you will be 22 in a couple of months and you’ve been spending the last 4 years (almost like a fifth of your life) in a subject that you don’t want anything to do with after graduation. You have no clue as to what to do after the 4 months of college that’s left. You realize you’ve practically wasted years of academics that could’ve been effectively spent studying something you actually like. You realize you don’t even know what that something you actually like is. You have no idea what to do with your life. You panic.

No, the last para isn’t about you, it’s all me. “You” just sounded better than “I”. So I had, um, a couple of mild and severe panic attacks in the past semester, but I’ve come to develop a certain mechanism to handle them which works fairly well. Except the two times that I had to be quarantined.

Step 1: Notify all my closest friends that I’m worried/confused/close to a cardiac arrest when I think of the future.

Step 2: Listen to what they have to say, mostly involves “same here” if the friend is doing B.Tech, “so are most of the others” if not.

Step 3: Calm down. (You are not alone is the best therapy ever). Sleep, wake up forgetting all the exasperating shit, go back to my life till the panic sets in another day.

Now, this is how I take my life decisions. Oh wait I haven’t taken any for myself. Either way it’s a ritual to consult her before tough ones and also after I screw up everything. Mostly because I never listen, still.

Screenshot_2015-12-22-00-58-55.pngThis is a pretty emotional moment for me, posting a Whatsapp screenshot in public. Yes, the convo’s been scrolled to a strategic point so that the (more) embarrassing stuff can’t  be seen.

Which is when I remembered about my TRUSTMEYOUREALIVE – name of my blog- that’s been dead since it was last alive.  Okay so I’ll confess I created this blog back in 2014 when I wrote something new after quite sometime and wanted someplace fancy to post it. I mean like a page just for like an article is like fancy, no?

This time, I decided to listen to Miriam after all. Blogging’s free and I could always read it later to myself, if nobody else does.

Special thanks to my brother(s) who bought me my new lap which is pretty much the only reason I’m here cos time and again, I’d thought of posting random stuff I’d written but the idea of sitting in front of the PC in my First floor hall on the molded plywood chair and typing it out made me drop it. Wow, I really need to start writing shorter sentences.

So here’s hoping I start writing online regularly :D. (OK AMMA, whether online or not doesn’t matter as long as I’m writing!)

PS: Sorry if the beginning of this post misled you into thinking it’s about handling panic attacks or life decisions even.

PPS: This was meant to be a teeny-weeny post of max 200 characters. Sorry for the long intro, you may now continue reading nonsense elsewhere.