Month: September 2015


To R, the only one who has never taken me for granted

Just 20 days into this blog, and I’m already having a panic attack!!! I feel like I’m running out of things to write about! I have a lot of ideas, but when I sit down to put them into words, my mind goes blank. I just sit and stare at the cursor blinking at me, and watch the screen go dark after a while.

I’ve searched far and wide for inspiration. I even searched the internet for some inspiration. *hides face behind hands* I even went so far as to ask one of my friends what I should write about. That idiot, of course, had no ideas.

So, here I was, panicking about what to write. Are my writing days over? So soon??!! Oh, no! How will I face people? *cries* (Too much of an exaggeration? Okay.)

And, then, inspiration struck. It was like a light bulb had gone off in my head! Maybe I should write about having this panic attack instead! But, then came another problem. How do I end the post? I again presented this problem to said friend of mine. And again, said friend had no ideas. No surprise there! (If you are reading this, I’m very sorry!)

And, I just told said friend that I mentioned him in my post, and he got very excited.

Him: Whaaaaat? Really??!! Am I really in your post??!!

Me: Yes, you are.

Him: No kidding?

Me: Absolutely not. *shakes head* You’ll see. *smirks*

I’m pretty sure he is going to murder me and bury my body somewhere no one can find it after he reads this. But, who cares? I feel better already! Hmm. What does that say about me, I wonder. And, if I stop posting after this, know that I was murdered by someone who claimed to be my friend!

And, since I don’t want to die so soon, I dedicated this post to him. Genius, right? *proud expression*


Home sweet home.

To Pranay Oscar Lakra, who has such an amazing personality.

Happy birthday, in advance. 

We’ve all been taught about the differences between a house and a home. A home has people, whereas a house does not. I remember I had a poem about it in eighth grade.

A home is the way you eat dinner together every night with your family, watching TV and laughing together. A home is the way your bedroom door creaks when you open it. A home is the way your bathroom door won’t quite close completely. A home is your messy room, your overflowing desk drawer. It’s your cluttered closet, and the way you just shove your clothes inside and quickly close it before they can all come falling down.

It’s the pieces of dust that are settled in the corners. It’s the ants that come in search of food. The way the crows come sit near the window when you’re eating, in hopes that you will feed them. The way the stray dogs that live near your house wag their tails and lick you as soon as you come out the door.

A home is the way the music keeps blaring out the speakers all day long, because your mom can’t work without it. A home is all the fights and arguments, and the making-ups after. It’s the smells wafting from the kitchen as your mom cooks.

A home is the way you try to be as quiet as possible at night, because your family’s sleeping. It’s fighting for the TV remote with your dad. Home is knowing that, no matter how far you go, you always have a place to come back to.

Home is comfort. Home is joy. Home is love. And, sometimes, home is a person.




I was nominated by DAUNTLESSDREAM. Thank you so much! Guys, go check her blog out, she is fabulous, by the way.


1. Thank the bloggers who nominated you.
2. Put the logo in your post.
3. Post 7 facts about yourself.
4. Nominate 7 other bloggers.

Since I’ve already posted a few facts about myself, here are some new ones.

  1. My real name means beautiful lady.
  2. I want to travel the world.
  3. I procrastinate. A LOT.
  4. I’m the nicest rude person you will meet. Haha!
  5. The thing that bugs me the most is when people use “your” instead of “you’re”. It’s not that hard to type two letters extra! I wonder what they do with all their free time.
  6. I’ve always wanted a dog, but I’ve never had one of my own. (If any of you feel like gifting me one, I won’t complain! Golden retrievers are fine. This is a cry for help, people!)
  7. I always keep my promises, even the small ones. Because I know how it feels when people promise you something, but don’t follow through on it.



I’ll get around to nominating the rest, later.


15 random facts about me.

1. I’m weird and crazy. The more you get to know me, the weirder I become. Just when you think you’ve figured out how crazy I am, you realize that there is another whole level of craziness you didn’t know about. But, my craziness makes me who I am, and I wouldn’t want to change it for the world.


2. I love being melodramatic, and I’m a fan of hyperboles.

tumblr_nhiyj4D07I1s10ykeo1_12803. Sarcasm. Need I say more?


4. I’m a caffeine addict. I cannot function without my daily cup of coffee.


5.  I go through books like money flying out my hands.


 6. Whenever I eat, I eat my least favourite things first, so that I can get it over with and really savour the rest.

7. The number 8 is my favourite. I also like the number 5. I don’t like odd numbers, except for the ones that add up to 5 or 8.

8. I love making lists, if only for the sheer pleasure of crossing things out when I finish them.

lists9. I’m a grammar Nazi. Bad grammar is a major turn-off for me. I mentally correct people’s grammar all the time. And occasionally, out loud.

1965430_973554255996898_2647310145624765279_o10. I’m very picky about things. It takes hours for me to shop, because it’s hard for me to find one thing that I have no complaints about.

Picky-576x57611. I have an eidetic memory. I can recite entire conversations from years ago, can remember what you wore on which day, and so on.

tumblr_lyc0dvTEwZ1r8p6ylo1_50012. I love Oxford commas. I didn’t, not at first. But, last year, I gave a speech about them in my English class, and I’ve loved them since.

oxford-comma-examples13. I hate the number 13. I don’t know why. (Ha! Such irony.)


14. I’m a mood reader. The book I choose to read, depends on my mood. More often than not, I start reading a book, and after two or three pages, if I don’t feel like reading that particular book, I start another one instead until I find the perfect one.

15. I actually don’t have anything more to say. I just added this because, I like the number 15 more than the number 14. 14 feels a bit.. Unfinished.

( *in a small voice* I told you I’m weird, please don’t judge me.)


Oh, wait! I don’t have a dog.


5 types of people you meet in the bus.

  1. The one who comes and stands beside you, and makes all kinds of sad faces in hopes that you will take pity on them and give up your seat.

And you have to pretend to not see them, because you were standing for more than 20 minutes at the bus stop, because you wanted a place to sit on the bus and if they think you are going to give up your seat after THAT, they are very much mistaken. Unless, it is an old person or a pregnant lady, in which case you will give up your seat gladly because you are a nice person.

  1. The one that hogs the seat.

And you have to sit there in the tiny space they provide you, clenching your teeth and cursing to yourself.

  1. The creep who keeps staring at you the whole time and smirking.

You feel like punching his face, or at the very least cursing him, but you can’t. Why? Because you are in public – the place where it’s okay for people to stare at you creepily, but if you do/say something about it, you are a “total bitch.”

  1. The one who comes running from the other end of the bus, as soon as someone gets up from their seat, and pushes you out of the way to sit there even though you were standing RIGHT IN FRONT OF THE SEAT.
  1. The one that comes and asks you if the bus is going to a particular place even though it is written very clearly on the board that the bus is, in fact, going to that very same place.

And since you can’t do anything about them, you settle for are-you-kidding-me looks instead.


Don’t be someone who doesn’t look out the window.

They say, in life, the little things are the most important. Like, someone calling you pretty, or someone picking up a book you dropped, or a stranger smiling at you on the road, or a homeless person blessing you when you give them two bucks.

Life is not one grand gesture. It’s a million little things strung together beautifully to make the whole picture.

But, some people are too busy with what they think is important, that they miss what actually is. Yes, you career is important. Making it in life is important. Buying a home, being successful, becoming rich, all of them are important.

But, think about it. Is that all there is to life? What if you were so hell bent on making it in the world, that you lose everyone you love in the process? That you miss out on all the little joys the world has to offer?  Having everything, but having no one to share it with. Is it really worth it?

There is this line from a song by Alicia keys. If I ain’t got you. “Hand me the world on a silver platter, and what good would it be, with no one to share, and no one who truly cares for me?” When you are lying sick on a hospital bed, your career is not going to look after you.

“Don’t be someone who doesn’t look out the window.” I came across this line in a book by Sophie Kinsella, The Undomestic Goddess. The protagonist is a lawyer and she may very well become the youngest partner in her firm. But, it all gets to be too much and one day, she just runs off and lives in a small town working as a maid for some very nice people. There, she realizes what’s really important in life.

But, when the people from her firm find her and come to take her back, she goes with them. But, in the train, on the way back, she spots a very rare bird through the window. She cries out “look out the window, you guys!” But, nobody looks up. Everyone is too busy tapping away in their BlackBerrys. She thinks to herself, that these people are married to their work, and in that process are forgetting to live. She feels ashamed of having been this way. She says to herself, “I don’t wanna be someone who doesn’t look out the window.” She quits, and goes in search of the man she fell in love with.

I fell in love with that line. And since then, I never miss an opportunity to look out the window. Literally, and figuratively.

Wake up at 5 AM and look at the sunrise. Walk barefoot on the grass in the morning, when its fresh with dew. Go on a rollercoaster and scream like a little girl. Never forget to tell the people you love that you love them. Live for the little things. Look out the window.


My Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

I think this post is pretty much self-explanatory. I have OCD. It’s self-diagnosed, of course!

I had been having doubts for a while about my OCD. So, one day, I decided to look up the symptoms on the internet. I know what you’re thinking. Is she crazy? Everybody knows you never, ever go on the internet for a self-diagnosis! That’s like the first rule of the internet. Wait, is it? Well, if it isn’t, it should be!

So. I looked up the symptoms. And surprise, surprise, I had OCD. I was thinking about how to break this gently to my mother. And, I just blurted it out of course! And, it pretty much went like this:

Me: Mom, I have OCD.

That’s it. Not even an I-have-to-tell-you-something. Just straight out blurting.

Mom: Oh.

Me: That’s it? That’s all you have to say?! Mom: And you know you have OCD because?

Me: I looked it up on the internet, of course!

Mom: *nods head in an understanding way* Ah.

Me: Do you not realize how serious this is? I could become Sheldon. Or worse- horrified expression- Adrian Monk!

(Yes, my mom watches all the TV shows I watch, too. And, for those of you who don’t know who Monk is, he is an extremely brilliant detective who has OCD. That guy has MAJOR issues!)

Mom: If you become Monk, I’m not taking care of you, young lady!

Me: *stands there with hands on hips and an indignant expression*

Well, that’s just amazing!

I may have exaggerated a teeny tiny bit, but let’s not go into that. *sheepish expression*

And then, I proceeded to look into it a bit more. And, turns out, OCD is not psychological, but rather, biological. Well, it’s good to know that at least I’m not crazy. Although, that’s still debatable.

But, seriously guys. I do have OCD. I mean, do you not see the period at the end of each of my titles? But, don’t worry, it’s still self-diagnosed.