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.

I Hate Because I Can

Dr. Sigmund Freud defined hate as an ego state that wishes to destroy the source of its unhappiness. More recently, the Penquin Dictionary of Psychology defines hate as a " deep, enduring, intense emotion expressing animosity, anger, and hostility towards a person, group or object."

5 Things I Hate

Picking up the phone
I absolutely de-test having to pick up the house phone. Cos a) nobody ever calls me in dat. and b) I hate having to make small talk with whoever does call. It just infuriates my mom when I'm sitting like 2cms away from the phone and still make her walk all the way from the kitchen to come up pick up the damn thing. And I hate when people respond to a Hello with a Hello. And then I say Hello again and they say Hello again and I say Hello again and.... Grrr. Makes me want to reach into the phone and clobber the person on the other end. I kinda appreciate prank calls in a way. Cos they keep the conversations short and simple. And its ok to hang up rudely. One time this breather calls up (breather : person who calls on the phone and instead of talking demostrates interesting breathing patterns instead) and I was in a real bad mood so I come out with all abuses I was aware of at that point. And all of a sudden the breather goes Hello and he sounds an awful lot like my Dad's Boss. Ugh. I hang up and pray that a third leg emerges out of the back of my neck so that I can kick myself conviniently. I've never been able to look the guy straight in the eye after that. And I never really figured out why he called up to breath.

Having a snot sneeze

Sometimes its nice because it sorta like clears your head and stuff. But have you ever had a snot sneeze when lying flat on ur back and have no tissue or hanky nearby? Not a pretty picture, I tell you. It was different when we were little kids and it was okay to wipe it whereever we wanted (what, that was not okay??) And are you kind who looks into the hanky after sneezing? I am. Can't help it. I have to see if it made a pretty little pattern. Please don't stop visiting my blog cos I'm such a pig.

And also at this point, I would like a moment of silence to think about Tariq, the booger eater in my class in Grade one. I mean sure we all used to go all eww and stuff, but I secretly had a crush on him for making an effort to be different.

People Looking at me Brush my Teeth
Brushing to me is almost as personal as peeing or bathing. Thing is I'm not the neatest brusher on earth. I'm a sloppy brusher. I get foam all over the place. Its like a foam fest. If someone were standing next to me, I'd get a little foam on them as well. I get creeped out thinking bout couples who brush together and share the same toothbrush and stuff. My husband would want to divorce me at the sight of my toothbrush alone. Tends to look like I washed the entire bathroom with it.

Having to repeat myself 867493826 times

So okay maybe I don't have the loudest voice in the world. But sometimes I feel that people just go "huh?" just to annoy you. I usually try twice and then say "its not important" the third time. Do you know how many important thoughts of mine have been left unsaid cos it this? Thank god I have this blog.

My nose
I didn't always hate it. I mean it was a normal nose until the day I was suddenly cursed. See I used to make fun of my sister's nose throughout half my life. So I'm sure she had something to do with my nose turning out the way it did. Its like what someone said somewhere once : I look at the mirror in the morning and the first thing I run into is my nose... or something like that. It was funnier when I read it. If anyone knows the quote I'm talkin bout please let me know. So yeah thats my case. I wouldnt call it the biggest part of my body. Maybe the 4rth biggest. But its defnitely the biggest thing on my face.

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