so the student council's changing soon.
new editor, new editorial board. do i still want to be part of that?
we had a sort-of meeting today. just a bunch of old members, to figure out innovative ways to hold selections for the new board.
somehow they just forgot to call me. ofcourse, they realised soon enough, and i received apologetic phone calls summoning me to the food court asap.
wow. and i worked with them for a whole year. did i really leave NO personal imprint?
maybe its a sign. time to move on to other things.
like alcohol. and nicotine. might as well throw in some meaningless sex.
what could possibly be better?
i think im addicted to pain.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
respite
i wake up, shower, get dressed. new clothes that i havent worn since i left home. home. where was that again? back in delhi? mumbai? lonavala? well, its manipal now. for the next couple of years.
it seems like home more than ever now, because i have people to hate here. people to avoid in the corridoors. people that make me cringe when they get too close. class is an adventure, a search for the perfect seat where none of them are in my direct line of sight.
today seems like a better day too. fresher. promises of a long lost friend speak to me of comfort.
interact is deserted when i walk in. ten minutes early. i lounge around on the staricase, waiting. i see him 2 minutes before class begins. 7:58 by my (interact synchronised) cell phone clock. he's walking up the stairs, talking to someone i think i've met before.
just seeing him again makes me feel lighter. like someone's sharing the burden. or atleast distracting me from its heavy weight. he spots me finally and breaks into a smile.
im sure he's going to say 'you look good, dj', thats always the first thing he says to me when we meet after a long while. but there's no time. class starts NOW and we both have to run.
but i reach out, and he understands. he leans in for a hug. a long one, about ten seconds, oblivious to the chattering crowds rushing past. i feel the warmth of friendship, compassion and understanding seep into my skin. and in that moment i am happy again.
transformed for a second. strong in the knowledge that he'll be there when i'll need someone to fall back on...
it seems like home more than ever now, because i have people to hate here. people to avoid in the corridoors. people that make me cringe when they get too close. class is an adventure, a search for the perfect seat where none of them are in my direct line of sight.
today seems like a better day too. fresher. promises of a long lost friend speak to me of comfort.
interact is deserted when i walk in. ten minutes early. i lounge around on the staricase, waiting. i see him 2 minutes before class begins. 7:58 by my (interact synchronised) cell phone clock. he's walking up the stairs, talking to someone i think i've met before.
just seeing him again makes me feel lighter. like someone's sharing the burden. or atleast distracting me from its heavy weight. he spots me finally and breaks into a smile.
im sure he's going to say 'you look good, dj', thats always the first thing he says to me when we meet after a long while. but there's no time. class starts NOW and we both have to run.
but i reach out, and he understands. he leans in for a hug. a long one, about ten seconds, oblivious to the chattering crowds rushing past. i feel the warmth of friendship, compassion and understanding seep into my skin. and in that moment i am happy again.
transformed for a second. strong in the knowledge that he'll be there when i'll need someone to fall back on...
Sunday, January 27, 2008
frugal
i wake up, get dressed. my clothes glaringly noticeable in their simplicity.
make it to class just in time. take my seat. left side of lecture hall, second row from the back. between a guy who couldn't care less; and a girl who used to care enough, before she met someone who took that part of her away from me.
i sit through class. mostly making notes, but also doodling and writing on the back pages of my notebook. those scribbles mark my days, my ways.
after class, i rush through the crowd, ahead of everyone who might catch up with me and ask questions. they stream into the mess, in twos and threes, but by then I'm already eating at a table in a far corner. as far away as possible. I'm done by the time they're half through.
i stay attentive in class though. its my escape from the world. for even though they're all around me, they cannot talk to me.
once the day is over, i enter the sanctuary of my room. its a depressing mess on most days. things that remind me of what my life should be are strewn all over the bed. books, journals, eye makeup, swimsuit, random Cd's.
i run from my room as soon as i can. go out into the evening with earphones on. escape into music. sometimes i head out towards the library, where the enforced silence allows me to not make eye contact with anyone. i read, I'm lost in the words. they're making no sense to me because I'm concentrating on the phonetics. what they sound like in my head. entire sentences go by before i realise whats happening.
i feel like I'm breathing under water. like there's no need to come up for air. everything is blurred by that watery medium. there are no blacks, whites, or greys. only shades of blue exist.
food turns into something devoid of taste. something medicinal, whose function remains to sustain, without giving pleasure. i don't care what i eat anymore. but i go to the mess twice a day. thrice if I'm awake.
I'm grateful to the people who make the effort to talk to me. the people i used to be close to, part of my inner circle, but not anymore. i make an attempt to try and seem normal, OK. sometimes i feel like sharing, but then i realise its pointless. I'd have to explain too much of that which i cannot even explain to myself, let alone to anyone else. i let it go.
i let go.
i make sure I'm tired by the time i enter my room again. i cant stand to see the broken bits of my past lying around me, so i turn off the lights as soon as i can.
i sleep a dreamless sleep. until i wake up in the morning and do the same thing over again.
what is hope? where will i find it?
make it to class just in time. take my seat. left side of lecture hall, second row from the back. between a guy who couldn't care less; and a girl who used to care enough, before she met someone who took that part of her away from me.
i sit through class. mostly making notes, but also doodling and writing on the back pages of my notebook. those scribbles mark my days, my ways.
after class, i rush through the crowd, ahead of everyone who might catch up with me and ask questions. they stream into the mess, in twos and threes, but by then I'm already eating at a table in a far corner. as far away as possible. I'm done by the time they're half through.
i stay attentive in class though. its my escape from the world. for even though they're all around me, they cannot talk to me.
once the day is over, i enter the sanctuary of my room. its a depressing mess on most days. things that remind me of what my life should be are strewn all over the bed. books, journals, eye makeup, swimsuit, random Cd's.
i run from my room as soon as i can. go out into the evening with earphones on. escape into music. sometimes i head out towards the library, where the enforced silence allows me to not make eye contact with anyone. i read, I'm lost in the words. they're making no sense to me because I'm concentrating on the phonetics. what they sound like in my head. entire sentences go by before i realise whats happening.
i feel like I'm breathing under water. like there's no need to come up for air. everything is blurred by that watery medium. there are no blacks, whites, or greys. only shades of blue exist.
food turns into something devoid of taste. something medicinal, whose function remains to sustain, without giving pleasure. i don't care what i eat anymore. but i go to the mess twice a day. thrice if I'm awake.
I'm grateful to the people who make the effort to talk to me. the people i used to be close to, part of my inner circle, but not anymore. i make an attempt to try and seem normal, OK. sometimes i feel like sharing, but then i realise its pointless. I'd have to explain too much of that which i cannot even explain to myself, let alone to anyone else. i let it go.
i let go.
i make sure I'm tired by the time i enter my room again. i cant stand to see the broken bits of my past lying around me, so i turn off the lights as soon as i can.
i sleep a dreamless sleep. until i wake up in the morning and do the same thing over again.
what is hope? where will i find it?
Thursday, January 24, 2008
case presentation rant
you can never know how bad it can get until it gets that bad.
and it always hits you hard. in the wrong places if you're really unlucky.
i presented a case today and it was awful, oh so awful. by far the worst of the 3-odd i've done. here's how it went:
Students crowded around three sides of a cramped bed, staring down at poor-young-little-patient who has had the bad luck of suffering, since birth, from a fairly interesting disease. which basically condemned him to a life of torture at the hospital.
the kind that involves brazen staring, strangers moving their hands on you like they own you and not to mention trying to cut off the blood supply to your arm completely and permanently by using, over and over, an instrument called the sphygmomanometer.
trust me, the patients prefer the needles and knives kind of torture.
i maintain, however, that the students themselves are victimised (read: terrorised) into this sort of behavior, so its not really their fault.
so anyway:
students crowding around. doc (D) walks in and silence ensues. nothing can be heard apart from the steady drip drip from the patient's iv. D stands at the head of the bed, frowning at us. he has scary, bushy eyebrows.
D: Who's presenting?
MD: (waving hand from somewhere at the back of the crowd)
D: (looking extremely displeased) you know you're supposed to be by the patient's bedside if you're presenting!
so i pushed and shoved my way through. ended up standing right under his nose. i'm not exaggerating:
i could count his eyebrow hair now (and nose hair, but thats irrelevant). while in the middle of contemplating how to tactfully suggest an eyebrow plucking session every once in a while to this kind gentleman (i would have even given him the number of my favourite place, see i'm SUCH a nice person), i heard him thunder from above me:
D: begin!
MD: (jumps) oh, uhhm. The patient is a 19 year old male student from Kerela...
D: (interrupting) who told you all this?
MD: urm, the patient did, sir
(like, duh! i wasnt dreaming up fairy stories, you know)
D: does he look sane to you?
MD: (justifiably taking a moment to analyse whether or not that was a serious question)
D: do you think he's alright?
MD: (thinking: well he's in a hospital. so he IS what they call 'sick') he seems to be fine, right now...
D: you think he's fine? then why's he in the hospital?
MD: um. Thats why I took a history. so we could figure out why he came to hospital.
D: (smiling smugly) continue, continue
WTF?
MD: ok. 19 year old male, student, from kerela...
D: (interrupting again) no. say it properly. you're telling me his history in points, like its his biodata or something. a good history should flow.
("flow" ??)
MD: uh huh. Our patient, on this fine morning, is a young man of 19 years. he hails from the neighbouring state of Kerela, where he spends most of his time studying for a BCom degree.
(I had half a mind to go on and list what his likes, dislikes and hobbies are; i think that was the only thing that could possibly make it worse than it got soon after)
MD: Patient presents with the chief complaints of fever with associated abdominal pain. His fever began a week ago...
D: thats enough. give me 10 differentials for fever with abdominal pain.
MD: um. hepatitis. ureteric colic. basal pneumonia.
(by now, im running out of ideas, and i'm nudging frantically the person standing by me) (but, oh no! person standing next to me is patients' mother, and she's looking extremely indignant)
MD: pancreatitis. appendicitis... peritonitis?
my silent cries for help fell on deaf ears. my batchmates had been completely overwhelmed and their collective presence of mind amounted to a little more than absence.
but it was good in a way. every three words i said, D would take it as a cue to speak upon my inadequacies for ten minutes or so.
we got through the history fairly quickly, because i figured out that skipping entire symptoms made no difference to D's ranting. so i read three words off every third line of my notes, and we were done only half way through our lunch break.
yeah isnt that great? usually we're let off twenty mins before afternoon class.
dirty looks were exchanged before we dispersed though. most were directed at me, but you'll be pleased to know i deflected them expertly in the general direction of D.
and it always hits you hard. in the wrong places if you're really unlucky.
i presented a case today and it was awful, oh so awful. by far the worst of the 3-odd i've done. here's how it went:
Students crowded around three sides of a cramped bed, staring down at poor-young-little-patient who has had the bad luck of suffering, since birth, from a fairly interesting disease. which basically condemned him to a life of torture at the hospital.
the kind that involves brazen staring, strangers moving their hands on you like they own you and not to mention trying to cut off the blood supply to your arm completely and permanently by using, over and over, an instrument called the sphygmomanometer.
trust me, the patients prefer the needles and knives kind of torture.
i maintain, however, that the students themselves are victimised (read: terrorised) into this sort of behavior, so its not really their fault.
so anyway:
students crowding around. doc (D) walks in and silence ensues. nothing can be heard apart from the steady drip drip from the patient's iv. D stands at the head of the bed, frowning at us. he has scary, bushy eyebrows.
D: Who's presenting?
MD: (waving hand from somewhere at the back of the crowd)
D: (looking extremely displeased) you know you're supposed to be by the patient's bedside if you're presenting!
so i pushed and shoved my way through. ended up standing right under his nose. i'm not exaggerating:
i could count his eyebrow hair now (and nose hair, but thats irrelevant). while in the middle of contemplating how to tactfully suggest an eyebrow plucking session every once in a while to this kind gentleman (i would have even given him the number of my favourite place, see i'm SUCH a nice person), i heard him thunder from above me:
D: begin!
MD: (jumps) oh, uhhm. The patient is a 19 year old male student from Kerela...
D: (interrupting) who told you all this?
MD: urm, the patient did, sir
(like, duh! i wasnt dreaming up fairy stories, you know)
D: does he look sane to you?
MD: (justifiably taking a moment to analyse whether or not that was a serious question)
D: do you think he's alright?
MD: (thinking: well he's in a hospital. so he IS what they call 'sick') he seems to be fine, right now...
D: you think he's fine? then why's he in the hospital?
MD: um. Thats why I took a history. so we could figure out why he came to hospital.
D: (smiling smugly) continue, continue
WTF?
MD: ok. 19 year old male, student, from kerela...
D: (interrupting again) no. say it properly. you're telling me his history in points, like its his biodata or something. a good history should flow.
("flow" ??)
MD: uh huh. Our patient, on this fine morning, is a young man of 19 years. he hails from the neighbouring state of Kerela, where he spends most of his time studying for a BCom degree.
(I had half a mind to go on and list what his likes, dislikes and hobbies are; i think that was the only thing that could possibly make it worse than it got soon after)
MD: Patient presents with the chief complaints of fever with associated abdominal pain. His fever began a week ago...
D: thats enough. give me 10 differentials for fever with abdominal pain.
MD: um. hepatitis. ureteric colic. basal pneumonia.
(by now, im running out of ideas, and i'm nudging frantically the person standing by me) (but, oh no! person standing next to me is patients' mother, and she's looking extremely indignant)
MD: pancreatitis. appendicitis... peritonitis?
my silent cries for help fell on deaf ears. my batchmates had been completely overwhelmed and their collective presence of mind amounted to a little more than absence.
but it was good in a way. every three words i said, D would take it as a cue to speak upon my inadequacies for ten minutes or so.
we got through the history fairly quickly, because i figured out that skipping entire symptoms made no difference to D's ranting. so i read three words off every third line of my notes, and we were done only half way through our lunch break.
yeah isnt that great? usually we're let off twenty mins before afternoon class.
dirty looks were exchanged before we dispersed though. most were directed at me, but you'll be pleased to know i deflected them expertly in the general direction of D.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
who am I?
Burning flesh. Bloodstained sheets. Scandalous promiscuity. Lost innocence. Searching for paradise. Sea-spray. Salty tears. Gothic lolita. Black silk. Fiery Passion. Skeleton Key. Orange Sunshine. Late night internet. Ecchi Anime. Morning walks. Solitary music. Transcendence. Evening haunts. Fireflies falling from the sky. Deserted streets. Tarot cards. Candlelight. Dead flowers. Nicotine and Vodka. Chocolate and hazelnut. Leather boots. Boys and girls. Mermaids. Holding on. Chewing gum. Sharing a bed. Crying for joy. Laughing at irony. Cynicism and sarcasm. The eternal idealist. Mint chocolate chip. The law of three. Paper and a pen. Flights of fantasy. Clinic duty. Leukemia. Midmorning naps. Midnight snacks. Velvet lingerie. Denim fetish. Word play. Confession slut. Salvation seeker. Inner beauty. Visible scars. Masochism. Self destruction. Dark revenge. My own best friend. Betrayal.
The truth is not inside me.
The truth is not inside me.
y's list
What has life come to? Torn between two corners of the world. What means more to me? I wish I could have you.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
Skeleton Key
I did a sick, sick thing to my love.
My lack of loyalty, it swallowed her up.
And she cooks me food.
She squirmed and turned
like a skeleton key.
She left her man unattended to me.
Don't call me that.
Don't claim you love me cause you know that ain't true.
And you're finally free
to twist and turn like a skeleton key.
You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.
I did a horrible thing to that girl.
I bred my misery and drowned it in her.
And she got me high, And I hardly noticed
there were tears in her eyes.
And I miss you less and less everyday.
This stream of whisky helps to wash you away.
And it's clear to see,
You're nothing special. You're a skeleton key.
You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.
-Margot & the Nuclear So and So's
what a song...
My lack of loyalty, it swallowed her up.
And she cooks me food.
She squirmed and turned
like a skeleton key.
She left her man unattended to me.
Don't call me that.
Don't claim you love me cause you know that ain't true.
And you're finally free
to twist and turn like a skeleton key.
You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.
I did a horrible thing to that girl.
I bred my misery and drowned it in her.
And she got me high, And I hardly noticed
there were tears in her eyes.
And I miss you less and less everyday.
This stream of whisky helps to wash you away.
And it's clear to see,
You're nothing special. You're a skeleton key.
You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.
You've gotta let me know.
-Margot & the Nuclear So and So's
what a song...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)