New Neighbours

Today a new family moved in next door.So here's a list of what's out and what's in at my place now because of my new neighbours:

OUT

1.Showering with the bathroom window open.

2.Listening to Limp Bizkit's expletive-laden song "Hotdog Flavoured Water" at noon.

3.Saying "No one lives next door" as an excuse to my friends' allegations of me not taking enough of an interest in getting to know my neighbours.

4.Making loud orgasmic noises while having sinfully delicious chocolate mousse for dessert.

IN

1.The pitter-patter of little feet next door and also a hell lot of juvenile gibberish,I suspect(not to mention the overwhelming fear of being woken up in the middle of the night by the sound of the baby crying its lungs out).

2.The irritating prospect of my nymphomaniacal friends asking me to rate the hotness of the alpha male figure next door on a scale of 1 to 10,1 being 'sad middle-aged sleazeball looking to get with a sixteen year old' and 10 being 'hot enough to be way out of the average girl-next-door's league'.

3.The even-more-irritating prospect of the alpha male's wife coming in every second day to borrow sugar or detergent or whatever else it is that women seem to run out of at crucial moments.

4.Waking up to the sound of noses being blown(instead of birds singing)on chilly winter mornings.

After writing out this comprehensive list,only one question plagues me-Am I becoming a logical negativist??

Alternate East Side Story

Every Sunday for the past two years I have been travelling in a certain bus at exactly 9 o'clock in the morning and every Sunday I have been noticing a certain woman on that bus.She isn't very beautiful.She isn't tall.She doesn't have an hourglass figure.She doesn't wear designer clothing.She doesn't carry an expensive handbag.She doesn't put on any make-up.But I never fail to notice her.She's a middle class woman in her early thirties,dressed modestly,who always has the exact fare ready for the conductor.There's something about her that makes her seem sincere.

Last week,I finally struck up a conversation with her to satisfy my peculiar curiosity.I asked her where she goes every Sunday.She told me that she takes the same bus to the same place every single day of the week but I only see her on Sundays because I happen to take that route only on Sundays.She goes to a beauty parlour where she works.

In every conversation,there's a talker and a listener.In most of mine,I've been the talker.But last Sunday,I became the listener(not because I had to,but because I wanted to).This woman,who had fascinated me since the very first day I laid eyes on her,told me the story of her life.She had been orphaned at a young age(she couldn't remember how old she had been) and had grown up in many foster homes.As soon as she turned eighteen,she started working at this beauty parlour that she went to everyday.She had learnt everything-from how to cut hair to how to give pedicures-at that parlour.Steadily she had saved up money and made a life for herself.She didn't have any living relatives.She had very few friends.She hadn't met the right guy yet.But she was happy with her life.If she died tomorrow,she would have no regrets.

I don't know her name.I will never even ask her that.Only her story is important to me.You,dear reader,may have seen it all before on TV or read it in a book,but I'm proud to say that I met such an independent woman in real life.She is the inspiration for the person I strive to be.I know she will never read this and she probably has no idea that I've been noticing her for so long.But I guess that's the way I want things to be.

Escaping The Institution

I want to walk away,

Away to a place where all the colours are kept...

To a place where everything is red,

where I have the courage to press down on the blade

to remind myself that I'm alive and people care...

To a place where everything is blue

and everything that I do reminds me of you

and your significant other...

To a place where everything is green,

where people still envy me...

To a place where everything is grey,

where sanity is virtual

and there's no need to fit in.

Untitleable Musings

Today is a weird day.A friend kept talking about how,at this time of the year,you can't find melons anywhere and I kept thinking of how delicious a slice of lemon pie would be right then!Rhetorical question:Can you develop dyslexia at the age of eighteen from reading too many boring,crappy theories about mass communication?Plus I'm going through this Lenny Kravitz gaga phase but "Are you gonna go my way?" doesn't seeem to garner any affirmatives from anybody...Doesn't anyone else see what I see in this frizzy-haired,woolili-loving freak?The randomness of my thought process is scaring me now as I engage in a discourse with myself on whether joining Atheist Nexus recently seems like a skeptic's misguided attempt to convince herself that she isn't envious of the believers.Another random thought-How is Sylvia Plath's poem 'Daddy' about Electra Complex?

A Call From Anonymous

He came into my life like the winds of september

I swayed back and forth like a branch in stormy weather

Should never have let him in through the door

But I ended up crying for him on the kitchen floor

Things were moving too fast but I was immobilized

I gave out,I gave in and then I realized

that there was life inside of me

and time seemed to crawl on endlessly

It was barely a month but it seemed forever

Then he said,"We can't be together.."

It thought it was safe in me

But my torment wouldn't let it be

It never put its fingers in mine

I never sang it a lullaby to stop it from crying

It never smelt the wet earth after rain

Never moved when i was sober and sane

It never slept in the light

'Coz I decided I couldn't be a mother last night...