So Yesterday

A couple of days ago "What I miss the most" was trending on Twitter. And I went on tweeting-rage that day. Here are a few things that I Miss the Most.

VHS Tapes - The excitement while going to the video rental store. The search for the perfect Thrusday evening movie(I grew up in the Middle East, where the weekend used to be on Friday). The squeal of happiness when you find that the one that you've been waiting for is in today. The restlessness as you pop it into the player and listen to the whir as it rewinds. Winding the tape with a pencil when the player gets stuck. Sticking the magnetic tape with cellotape when it breaks due to overuse (my Alladin tape)

Getting my hair cut in the barber shop - They do a neat job and they do not bug you with unwanted advice. They do not tell you how a clean-up could solve all your problems in life. They do not tell you obvious things about yourself ("hey, you're graying. hey, you have pimples, hey, you have crap hair") And they do that cool thing with an electric razor on the back of your head. Awesome it is.

Dungarees -  I wore dungarees to school on my 14th birthday. I looked like a complete idiot. But dungarees were undeniably cool during those days. Not to mention comfortable.

Highlighter pens - I used this pen a lot, mostly to show people who bothered to look through my books that I've read all this. Though I really wouldn't have. I like how it would brighten up the pages of my boring Chemistry or Physics book.

My bunk bed - I bagged the top bunk before my sister could. I broke the bed in a couple months and had to share bottom bunk with sister. :(

White Ink bubbles - My desk at school used to be filled with white ink bubbles. If you haven't tried making white ink bubbles, you should. There is something very soothing about it.  Not sure if it had anything to do with its smells.

Bicycles - I don't understand why people don't ride cycles too much after they've grown up. I mean you don't need a license to drive it. And its way better exercise than sitting on a scooty or a bike. And how can you ever feel sad when you're riding a cycle?

The way Barbie smells - Go to a shop. Pick up a Barbie. Smell her. She smells heavenly. Try not to get thrown out of the shop in case people think you're a pervert.

The Titanic Craze - All the boys were sporting the Jack Dawson hairstyle. The girls all had fake 10 Dhs version of the Blue Diamond. And everyone around the corner was going "I'm the king of the world" and doing the classic Titanic pose. I had a Titanic phonebook, a Titanic t-shirt, a Titanic notebook and a box of clipping of anything related to Leonardo DiCaprio. It was nice to be manically obsessed with something.

Enid Bylton books - This I miss the most. I had this huuuuuge collection of Enid Bylton books which I used to read over and over again. Fairy tales, mysteries, school stories...had them all. I remember going to book fairs and coming home with tonnes of books. And just gobbling up the words all night long. I'd finish reading all the books by morning. How I longed to grow up and write books just like she did. My dad sold all my books when I was away at college. So now I don't have even a single book to mark my childhood. Someday I hope to buy them all again. If not for my child, then for myself. Those books, they were the most magical things of my childhood days.


Photo albums - No, not the ones on Facebook or Picasa. The real actual ones. The ones that you pile around when your friends come to visit. And the ones from which some guy who has a crush on you flicks a pic or two when you're not looking. The plastic ones that the studio gives with the developed photos and the negatives. They almost always have a real corny pic on the cover. I miss the feel of an album. I miss putting pics in frames and on pin boards.

Pen-pals - I never had one. But my sister did. And it was so cool. Getting an actual letter from a person living in a weird exotic country far away (okay, so maybe her pen-pal lived in the street next to ours or something, but still) I did have quite a few online-pals. Back before Facebook and Twitter was around to spoil all the mystery one could evoke about themselves. Long, long emails. I think my first email friend was a 14 year old Australian girl called Amber. Sure, "Amber" could also have been a 44 year old Indian uncle with a hairy chest and a vest with holes in it. Still, the not-knowing was splendid enough. At one phase of my life, I had more online friends than real-life friends. Now I have more imaginary friends than real-life friends.

Ink pens - The whole process of filling ink into the pen the night before school, after you're done "keeping your timetable" (that's arranging your books according to the periods the next day. Cos a bunch of jumbled out of order books would mean absolute chaos.) I couldn't figure out how to do it for the longest time. My sister had to show me. But that feeling of accomplishment when I finally nailed it! Awesome. I also miss ink cartridges, the ones with a tiny silver ball in it. Me and whole bunch of girls in school had a collection of those tiny silver balls. I also had a broken pencil points collection. Now I collect tweets. :-/

Old phones - The one with the holes that you have to stick a finger in and twirl. I used to love twirling all the numbers starting from 0 upto 9, for no apparent reason. I love the tiny ringy sound it makes. I miss the heaviness of the receiver. *sigh*

I can hear a lot of my younger readers going, wow, you are like super ultra old aren't you? (You know who you are, don't you) Yes, yes I'm old and ancient and whatever. But hey, I'm still here aren't I? So in a sense I get the best of both worlds. And also, while you write a post 15 years from now about the good ol' days of Facebook and Ipads, my great grandkids will come and tell you that you're old. So there. :P
I could go on and on and on. Don't get me wrong. I'm not like stuck in the past or anything. I'm cool with all the new things too. But just sometimes, I wish I could sneak back into the past, just for a day or two, and wallow in the simplicity of things and come back and update my Facebook status about it. :)

Tell me, what are the things that you miss the most?

I Like, I Don't

Its time for another pointless post bout things that I like and don’t like. In points. Because I'm to lazy to type out a whole post. :-) Yenjay!

I like it when a sunny day turns cloudy and you actually see it happen. As in you notice the dark shadow cast over all the sunniness, inch by inch. It makes me feel like I sneaked a peek of one of those things Nature does before we notice. Like plants growing or sweat popping outta skin. :-)

I don't like being talked to during a movie. Please refrain from talking to me just for those 3 hours.

I like to listen to that sudden short intake of breath that singers do in between lines of a song. It makes them seem human just like the rest of us.

I don't like it when a pill does not go down your throat but sorta swirls around in your mouth and you end up with the horrible taste of a melted tablet in your mouth.

I like the smell of new things. Like a new book or a new school bag or shoes or a new eraser. Oooh and new clothes. I would purchase the thing that they use to induce that smell. Oh and also the musty smell that’s there as soon as you turn on an air conditioner. Heavenly.

I don't like it when I find ants in my eyebrows.

I like it when I get to do the "What to expect when your expecting Puberty" talk to pre-pubescent girls. I’ve done this only once and I think I scared the wits out of that kid but it was still nice to be older and world-wise

I like laughing out loud at a corny joke on tv or bawling at a sad scene when there is noone around to judge you.

I like masala movies where the hero walks in slow motion and kills all the bad guys with a flick of a finger. I get goosebumps during these scenes no matter how bad the movie is.

I like the first 15 minutes spend with a toddler right after he wakes up from a nap. They’re all dazed and lazy and oh-so-not-hyper. Its a nice relax-y time. And I love their bleary eyes.

I don't like it when people call you up and talk and talk and talk without breathing, without even giving me a tiny little 2 second break so that I can say “right, ok, so I gotta go now.” If you've ever wondered how the line had  magically gone dead when you were explaining to me how exactly your great aunts ended their real estate disputes, well, I don’t know either. :-|

I like it when married couples who probably haven’t held hands since 1985, huddle close together under an umbrella when it rains. With an arm around waist or shoulder, heads together, it somehow reminds you that that they had been young and very much in love once upon a time.

I don't like it when people send you something on chat and then go “oops, wrong box”. I used to do that a lot when I wanted to inform someone of something without actually having to say it to him/her. Or I’d just be trying to make it seem like “I’m talking to a whole lotta other people and I wasn’t sitting here staring at your name on my chat list willing you to send me a message for the past one hour.” Hate that.

I like daisies. I like Meg Ryan because in You’ve Got Mail she says that she likes daisies. Or maybe it’s the other way around.

Kathleen Kelly: I love daisies. 
Joe Fox: You told me. 
Kathleen Kelly: They're so friendly. Don't you think daisies are the friendliest flower?

Trivia – Meg Ryan’s daughter’s name is Daisy.

I like the way Meg Ryan walks.

I like it when babies touch your face.

I don't like it when they later try to yank open your eye sockets and pull out your eyeballs.

I like all movies that I’ve watched from beginning to end. No matter how bad it is. There is always some portion of it that I can relate to even in the bizzarest way. Or I just feel that I’ve learned something that I would’ve never known until I watched that movie. Be it a funny dialogue, or a thought or a costume or an exotic name or an idea or a psychological disorder or just basic trivia.

I don't like it when you make someone read a book or watch a movie that you absolutely love, but they don’t pay attention to it like their lives depend on it. I mean they’re texting in between the most crucial scenes or skipping the most important chapters. Sure, they probably don’t like it either when I’m yanking their head up so that they're facing the screen or breathing down their neck asking them what line they’re reading now. But still, no respect for the arts.

I like aprons.

I don't like it when you just have to “give in” when you’re winning an argument because the other person is just a “child”. It’s just not bloody fair. 

I like old keys. I love the feel of them. 

I don't like smiling when wearing white because it makes your teeth look so-very-not-white.

I like how everyone is financially equal in Facebook. No matter what pictures you’re posting – of your 3 different cars or scenes from the bus you ride to work everyday.. or from where you send your comments – your shiny new Blackberry or a shady old internet café down the street, you’re all on Facebook. Its literally like you all hang out at the same place. Without having to constantly check how much is left in your wallet. Which is cool.  

I don't like it when someone near me coughs or sneezes. I hold my breath for as long as I can or until I feel that the viruses and bacteria has stopped floating around in the air and has settled. Or I flap the air around me towards them as subtly as I can.

I like the way people’s eyes sparkle in movie theaters.

I like it when someone touches my hair. Or my ears.

I like blood red nail polish.

I like old scars and telling the story about how it got there. I always figured that "If a scar does not last too long on your body then it probably doesn’t have a story that is worth talking about." My very own quote.

I like making up my very own quotes. 

Nothing Happen Today. Good Night.

            I was going through a bunch on my old stuff some time back. I've got these cardboard boxes full of "junk" as my mom and dad likes to call it. But I like to call it my "Treasure Chest Of Memorabilia" (ok, no, I don't. I just call it my stuff. This sounded fancier. And I wasn't even sure what memorabilia meant.. or how its spelt .Google to the rescue as always.)

Anyway so this treasure chest which might just look like an ordinary suitcase from the outside, is filled with years of valuable and one-in-a-million memories. Bits of scrap paper passed around in class, movie tickets, wrapping paper with tag on, letters and cards, flowers that has been dried between pages of books, locks of hair (no, im not a psycho), stones from a memorable place and other things that mite cause you to rethink my sanity level. Among all these, I found a couple of diaries. Now who hasn't written a diary once atleast once in a lifetime. They're so wonderful and personal, especially when you start writing so young. To me as a kid, it a whole new playground. I didn't have to use my best handwriting. I didn't have to stay between the lines. I could use pens with ink that are not blue or black. I could doodle right in the middle of the book if I wanted. And I could stop writing whenever I wanted. My first diary was introduced to me by an aunt, who wanted to encourage us kids to write. It was this lil black leather book with a flap so that you can button it shut. I wrote unfailingly for weeks. Some of my entries, as I read it now.. are hilarious : 

September 7^th Wednesday 1994

Today in the I had a very BIG headace. At home alsaso my dad brought the termomiter. I was having 100.

Um.. ok so not hilarious,maybe. Just plain dumb. For a 9 year old anyway. I'm guessing the headache affected my sentence formation.. And my spellings.. thank god you can't see my handwriting. :-/

January 23 Sunday 1994

Today in school I did not have 4 peread. I am so happy today because I don't have tuion.

July 12 Tuesday 1994

Today I went to ice scat. I could not scat. But I enjoyed it. I am sleepy. Good night. Bye.

I said good night, bye, sometimes Good evening and occasionally, love ya, to my diary. I know…  :-/

After a while the posts got shorter and shorter : 

June 18 Saturday 1994

Dear Diary, Nothing happen today. Good night.

June 19 Sunday 1994

Dear Diary, Nothing happen today also. Good night.

About a month of this and then I got even lazier and started to resort to using ,, ,, in every day's column. As in "same-as-above". Apparently nothing happen to me for the rest of the year.

But then again when a new year dawns, I'd again start off on the crisp pages (which smells yummy by the way) of a fresh new diary. 

Once in my teens, I realized diaries are kinda kiddish and that I should move on to the grown-up version of diaries - the journal.

 I'm not sure what the difference is, but I was a major Babysitter's Club fan then, and the kids in that book always wrote in journals, which simultaneously (crap, I cannot spell simultaneously.. without spell check that is.) was considered to be a cool thing to do.

See the journal on the floor? See it? So cool!

 I figure the only difference is that diaries are meant to be written at night before bed and journals you can whip em up whenever you want and bitch bout life in it. Which was pretty much all I did in my journal. Complain bout my parents. Complain bout how I look. Complain about my best friends. Complain bout how much I had to study and how utterly useless algebra is. With an occasional random post about a new crush or two. :-)

May 16^th 1999 (excerpts)

….. except for one who is drop-dead gorgeous. Well, he's not that cute but then he is really cute. But I think he's some sort of fuddy-duddy (I'm not making this up. I did use the words "fuddy-duddy". I mean how cool was I!)

……….When a girl next to me said the words "fall in love" to someone she was talking to, I looked up at the same time he was looking at me. I know its silly and doesn't mean anything my heart was pounding so bad that time. I think I'm a silly jerk. He doesn't have a nice accent and he hardly ever laughs. Geek. But he looks nice when he smiles……

…..I really really wanna talk to him but I don't have the guts. What am I gonna say anyway? I heard he's a boring conversationalist…….

Ahhhh to be 13 again! 

Note : To know how that story ended.. clickety click here!

I stuck to that journal throughout my teenage years. It wasn't much to look at. It was a notebook with a picture of a bunch of animals on the cover. And it says P.M.S deluxe. Lol! I just noticed that now. I bought it from the store in front of my house for 7 bucks. Eventually I punched a hole through all the pages so that I could slip a lock through it. For ensured privacy. Expect I lost the key one day and had to rip it open anyway. The last post I've written in it is where I'm stressing bout passing 12^th grade and college and life in India.

Do I seem 18 now? ( I asked the 192 paged book) I think the way I write is different (not my handwriting). Or maybe I'm just trying too hard…

What's that even supposed to mean?

Once in college, I didn't do much journal or diary writing because college hostels are one place where girls just get a kick outta reading other people's diaries. In fact, when I was a kid, I used to jump at every chance to read my sister's diary. Except it didn't have anything earth-shattering in it. On the first page of her diary, she'd write – Do Not Open and do this drawing of the danger sign which actually just looked like a peanut on top of an X. On page two, she'd personally address me and say something like "You know its bad manners to read other people's diaries so PUT IT DOWN", which is sooo the wrongest thing to say to a jobless kid with a level of curiosity that could've killed a whole street of cats. But seriously, her diaries were boring. So in college, when eventually I did start writing, it was more or less for an audience. I'd write it so that others would like it if they read it. It would be humorous and charming with tit-bits of interesting trivia once in a while.

So today I hit a mosquito with my bare hands and then I swear I heard a crackling sound. I felt bad about it for a bit, but alas! (yes, alas) the deed had been done. I had crushed the poor thing's endoskeleton..Which as I know is just like human skeletons but on the outside. Yaawn, Off to bed, then. Tomorrow is gonna be another jam-packed day! (uh, yeah right!)

Sometimes I'd force my roommate to write about me in their diary then read it out loud to me. I think she tore out those pages about me after I went to sleep. :-/

Once I discovered blogging, I haven't really felt the need to write a diary. Most of my innermost thoughts and feelings, I usually blog about it. Or its my Facebook status. Ten years ago, I'd have tore someone's eyes out if they so much as hovered near my diary and read about my days where Nothing Happen today again. Now I'm just putting it all up on the web.. for public display.. of billions and thousands of people (ok, so not that many, I don't get that many hits on my blog :-( )

I started a diary last year though. But I stick to one-liners now. 

Day 1 - I got my driver's license today! Yay!

Day 2 - I almost run over someone today. Bummer!

Day 3 - I got my first pay-check. Yay!

Day 4 - I got fired today. Bummer!

After a while, I think I'll probably just shorten it to emoticons.  

Day 1

:-)

Day 2

:-(

Day 3

:-/

Day 4

?;0-(0''!~

Don't ask.

SHHHHH!Don't tell anybody...

Today in marketing class, our sir was speakin bout Secrets..ok I dunno why he was doing that in marketing class..I would probably have known if i had actually been listening..hmm..so anyway,all of a sudden, he's speaking about secrets..n suddenly he looks at me n goes - "hmm..so do you have a lotta secrets you can't tell anyone?"

Ok how dumb..first of all everyone has secrets..so thats a dumb question to start with.
And secondly..if its a secret then you obviously can't tell anyone..so thats like a redundant sentence...but then when I thought bout it..there are a lotta different kinda secrets..
There are secrets which u can't tell anyone..d kinds you take with you to ur grave..
N there are the kinds u tell just one person...just to see what the reaction'll be.
N if u like the reaction, then there is the third kinda secret..the kind u actually want everyone to know..i mean you'd be telling it to the 14 billionth person but u still start with "ok you're the first n only person who I'm telling this to..."
I dunno if its laddat for everyone...
I think I have more of the 1st kinda secret that d other 2 kinds..ever since i was say 5 years old i think..honestly..
I read this book once called Can u keep a secret? (chick-lit) where this female on an airplane thinks its gonna crash n blurts out all the secrets of her life to the guy sitting next to her.N then the plane does not crash n the guy falls in luv with her n they get married...OH Puh-leez..
Thats like one of my favourite books ever..but that situation is like soooooo not possible..
If i were in the same condition - first of all..I never get to sit next to anyone even remotely good-lookin or the "fall-in-love" with kinda ppl...It alwayz drunk middle-age men who has to get up to pee 6 bazilliiiooon times or old women or lil babies or nobody...
Ok so say some decent guy did actually sit down next to me n I did blurt out all the deep dark secrets of my life, the last thing he'd do is fall in love with me...he'd probably get so disturbed (thats as subtly as i can put it) he'd probably push me outta the plane before it can crash...
I mean why is a secret a secret?
because you don't want other people to know bout it.Because you might get into trouble if they find out.Or you might hurt someone's feelings if they find out.Basically other people's perception bout you is just gonna be a whole lot different once they find out everything bout u,right? So all those people who goes around saying.. "I don't care wat people think bout me..I am the way I am"...don't have any secrets?? from anyone? hmm I dunno..Maybe they don't.I'm just speakin based on my narrow frame of mind..
Oh then there is also the kinda secret that u think noone knows but then everyone knows but then wen u figure out everyone knows u just sorta don't say anything bout it so that everyone can just keep pretending noone knowz anything...ok..blah..scratch that..too compli..
Ok so those of ya'll who read so far thinking I'm gonna reveal some big-time historical secret bout me..HA!I don't even have the cool kinda secrets anyway..If I were to reveal some secret, I wish i had full-on
dish-kyaao kinda secrets..like..
I practice black magic on Fridays 12am to 3am .. or It was me who set our apartment on fire on Jan 6th,1999...or stuff laddat..
But sadly enough...ok who am i kidding..I've got looooadsaaa dish-kyaao, dish-um and dhink-chak secrets....which ur never gonna find out!!bahahahhahah! :-P