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Posts Tagged ‘moodulator’

wakin-dreamI hope you lot have read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time, because today I have been doing what I think Christopher meant by “doing groaning”.

This is creepily close to EXACTLY how I feel.

This is creepily close to EXACTLY how I feel, not to mention sodarnedcute!

WHY am I doing groaning? Because college starts tomorrow. And this is a Very Bad Thing because:

1. I can’t wake up at 10:30 a.m. anymore. In fact I have to wake up at six. If that doesn’t move you to tears, consider yourself dead inside.

2. College will most likely be rubbish because ‘sources’ tell us that the teachers are 100% pure crap (and this wouldn’t be a bad thing at all if it wasn’t for the fact that there is NOTHINGELSETODO at this college. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that I have Lucid for company, I might have shot myself by now).

3. I will be back at around 5:30 p.m. (traffic permitting). This means that I will have precisely enough time to eat and- get this- STUDY before I go to bed. This because I noticed a little clause on ‘daily evaluation’ on one of the forms I had to fill in prior to admission, meaning we’ll have to study every-damned-day.And then, it’ll be time to go to bed (which I MUST do if I want to attend the first half of the course at all.Sigh.).

So, basically, at this moment I am faced with a Decision: 1)Have A Life (or) 2)Go To College. Not that I really have a choice, of course.

4.Also: I could catch Swine Flu and DIE. (I don’t actually believe this.Anything to elongate this list, though.).

God.

What’s even more annoying is the fact that I’ve finally written a post, the tone of which is NOT verging on desperate and WE ARE DONE WITH NaBloPoMo.

I defy you to deem this situation unworthy of doing groaning. In fact I’m of the opinion that failing to do groaning would be an unforgivable negligence of duty.

P.S. : 1.Of course, I will keep a nice positive, open mind and probably moan some more give you a less prejudiced report tomorrow.

Wish me luck.Sigh.

2. I also found this:

How true!

How true!

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The Moodulator Returns

wakin-dreamTo exclaim or not to exclaim? That is the question.( We’re talking about the title, folks.No need to lose hair over it.).

Anyway, by popular imaginary demand, I bring you The Moodulator.And for this week..Or month…Or year (take your pick), it reads:

grump

That’s right. Grumpy. If anyone’s looking for a kid to adopt ( preferably someone who lives in Greenland or something) or heck, a circus (!!) , PLEASE. PICK ME! Because that’s been my predominant ‘mood’- I-want-to-run-away.

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searching-for-me Since I’ve nothing better to say, you get this cop-out-in-disguise post, instead.




The moodulator rolls …and rolls some more and gets jammed on:

stoned_fish Stoned fish.

Yeah, stoned.Because I grow opium and ganja and charas ( I don’t think you can really grow any of them, actually..they’re just the end products of stuff extracted from plants) in my non-existent backyard. And also because when I win a beauty pageant and they hand me a crown, that’s exactly the expression I shall don : STONED.

Now, you must be wondering exactly how much crack is in my system, what with my turning out so much trash.Either that, or you’re calling the coppers..

If it’s the latter, let me put your fears to rest.All the above is the result of a classmate’s observation on my permanently bored doormat-dead expression.Adding insult to injury is the fact that I don’t have much have nothing to say(So yes, for all practical purposes : Stoned Fish.).Speaking of which..I want to know WHY.

1. WHY do I not have things to say? Not always.There have been several accounts of people dropping dead from sheer shock when I talk too much- yeah, I was the one on the news last night.This is why you should watch it (even though I don’t.Mental note: Add to ‘Weirdnesses‘ list.)

2.Obviously from the amount I type, it’s not like my head just goes ‘Bzzzz.. NO SIGNAL’ all the time! ( I confess there are times when it just goes on that fuzzy grey screen-mode, though..)

3.Why does this particularly happen when I’m talking to Fuzzy Logic (We’ve both been wondering that.You can picture the conversation :

Me : So..

Fuzzy: Erm..

Me : *Awkward laugh* Yeah.

Fuzzy : WHY US?!!!! And yes, with that many exclamation points.

If anyone wishes to psycho-analyze us, you’re most welcome.In fact I will be putting up PSYCHO-ANALYZERS WANTED signs on here in the near future.Er, you are most certainly not allowed to probe into anything else, ofcourse.Too much of a good thing, you know.. ( Kindly note sarcasm.)

I was er, analyzing myself? That’s a weird thing to say.Anyway, I was doing stuff.And weirdly enough, this passage kind of made sense in relation.It doesn’t explain anything, just brought to mind what I think about a lot- what people could be when stripped to the basics; to very feral, unthinking forms where it’s simply: instinct rules and everyone is in everyone else’s head (except mine because I have Ultra Firewall..).Something like that anyway.Because I just can’t stand around and discuss how shocking it is that Mary Sue‘s going out or what I think about the third woman’s saree.Really, I couldn’t care less and I couldn’t bring myself to care either; too much effort.And I swear, that is ALL that runs through most peoples’ minds ( or the mind’s representative, the oral cavity.Cavity …that’s a good name for it.).

So, obviously building a parallel universe is the answer to it all..

OK, I give up.Lets just hope that this will make more sense Stephenie Meyer’s way:

Life sucks, and then you die.

Yeah, I should be so lucky.”

OKOK, only kidding, sheesh! But I can’t help but love how very Jacob that is.Jacob, with that perfect sense of bitter, sarcastic humour.Ah, sigh.I’ll devote a post to that one day.But as for what I was really getting at:

I ran away from them, trying very hard not to think about what was next.Instead, I concentrated on my  memories of the long, wolf months, of letting the humanity bleed out of me until I was more animal than man.Living in the moment, eating when hungry,sleeping when tired, drinking when thirsty, and running- running just to run.Simple desires, simple answers to those desires.Pain came in easily managed forms.The  pain of hunger.The pain of cold ice under your paws.The pain of cutting claws when dinner got feisty...”

What I wouldn’t give..




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Because I’ve nothing else to say except for that I love the rain but I fear if I say any more on the subject, there will be petitions to stop us blogging.

And if that happened what would sad people with no real lives (like us) do?

This week, my predominant ‘mood’ has been:

“Angry-fish : Now featuring sleepless eyes and grey ” I’m fuming” swirlies. Contact BWC here for further details.”

_______________

Oh, yeah.I’m going places with a frown like that, me!

The rain has remedied this to the extent that my teeth are back safely in my jaw where they belong, I’m no longer emitting self-created grey swirlies and bloodshot eyes, and have long since stopped flapping my fins in frustration*.Many thanks for all the Get Well wishes.No, really.Although, I don’t recommend coming within 100 miles of me with a 35″ pole this time tomorrow night (My doctor says it’s all brought on by chronic school-allergy.).Which means you’ll probably 1) Find a long rant on here tomorrow-I hate school!- my condolences (or) 2) Find the much-awaited (hey, a fish can dream!)-‘Bookmark’ edition for this month.It’s a long one, I’ll tell you that much.This because I will have four straight days of holidays, people- FOUR! Woohoo!

Ahem.This is the pathetic typical-of-five-year-olds-behaviour that School has caused.Do you feel my pain? You’d better be feeling my pain, that’s what.

And the reason for these holidays ( Don’t you just love how that word just rolls of your tongue? Holidays.Holidays! HOLidays!) is what leads to the rest of what my post is about. Diwali– Festival of Light, colour and sweets but most importantly-fireworks!

Let’s say it again : “WITH ME! Fireworks.” And be sure to say it like it’s a Bad Thing.This here is a pretty futile plea (seeing as ONE Indian – far as I know- reads the blog) but give it up, people.Join Fireworkaholics Anonymous.Burn up your store of- wait no, DON’T burn them! Go into rehab if you cannot stop! Er, OK, I’ll just cut out the drivel and say: this is one of those environment-thingies.Because really, a week’s worth of explosions is a LOT.I should know.Last year, we were at the airport to receive my aunt sometime around Diwali- and we couldn’t see 2 feet under our noses ( What do we want to look at that’s 2 feet under our noses? I dunno.But we couldn’t if we’d wanted to.) for all the smoke that filled the place.Chokecoughgasp! OK, Sorry.Melodrama is just..catchy. Oh, wait then! I’ll go into rehab for Melodrama and you go in for firework-addiction! It’s a date er, deal .

If that wasn’t convincing enough ( and I suspect it wasn’t..), take a look at this :

And these:

Enjoy the sweets and the holidays, though- don’t let me put you off! Even though while you’re busy picking out rockets, I will be praying (not-so-secretly) for it to rain on your parade, so to say.I suppose you’ll be wanting those Get Well wishes back, then? Sigh.

‘Later.

*Alliteration score !

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