Final Post

For some reason a lot of people have said 2011 was one of the worst years of their lives. On the contrary it was one of the best for me. It was like chocolate sprinkles on a strawberry doughnut kept on a rainbow coloured unicorn plate of gold for me. Not that I like unicorn flavoured doughnuts. My favourite is crispy cream. Or chocolate filled. OR BLUEBERRY!

Getting back.

It was a fun year. Loads of theatre, singing and cooking. Not enough blogging unfortunately.

This year was one I would remember.

It just decided to combine all the good things in life. I have never felt more confident and let me tell you- It feels great.

New York was definitely a high shining bright spot of sunshine in 2011. The best place on Earth. No point arguing.

But, it wasn't all laughing around and goofing off. I learnt really important things too. Like the fact that Justin Beiber is a nice guy. He's even talented. But I still hate his fans. *smiley face*

I'm going to try taking some singing classes next year. And cook more. Coming second in Masterchef Modern made me all kinds of upset.
(Oh yeah. My school had a Masterchef. Beat that losers!)

I think I'll really put in more effort with this blog. I don't write enough and it really is something I love. I appreciate all 10 of you who follow this blog for nothing. I'll do more to make it worthwhile, I promise :)

Ciao 2011, hope the new year will be just as awesome!

Saanya A,
Talk The Talk

P.S- If you're wondering why I write my blog's name after my own, it's just cos it makes me feel more professional :D

An open letter to VanillaSweetheart

You should know that I'm mocking you with the title.
Internet rants are not my specialty but for you, and only you darling, I'm willing to try. I don't appreciate your bitching and joking about my accent but because it was only in school and not on a public forum, I let it slip. The internet however, is a bigger deal.

Get this in your head- I am a bigger person than you. I am using your pseudonym so that by the end of this you have at least a bit of respect left and I hope that will be enough for you to apologise.

Let's get it clear Sweetheart, what you do or say on your blog doesn't affect me a bit if you're not talking about me. When I read your blog for the first time, I thought 3 things:
1) She writes well and her blog is quite engaging.
2) Words like 'wanna' and 'gonna' almost destroy her posts. She shouldn't use them.
3) She should stop calling it her 'personal diary'. IT'S ON THE NET.

Basically, your blog was not interesting enough for me to go back to. Still I complemented you the very next day just to be polite and SUGGESTED that writing full words might be a good thing. I didn't say that your blog is terrible. I didn't state the various problems with it. And not once did I utter anything along the lines of, "Your English is horrendous." I did not imply it and honestly, I don't care enough about you or your speech to say something like that anyways. I don't know Bengali and you do. Doesn't make you better than me. Same way though my English is more developed than yours, I don't think I am better.

But since we are on this topic, let me tell you what really is wrong with your beloved blog.

Firstly, if it's on a public forum, it's not personal. Don't get hurt if you posts are read by people and if they have opinions about it. If you didn't mean for anyone to read it, you could have changed your privacy settings. And not telling anyone about the blog in the first place would have been an absolutely FANTASTIC idea. The world gossips- deal with it. And once people found out about the blog, you could have changed the URL.
Aren't all the possibilities shocking? In any case, writing your over emotional releases over the net was a terrible idea to begin with.

Secondly, if you didn't want people to get involved in your blog even if they read it, a really good idea would have been to not use their real names. Nobody wants to be the cause of, or even a part of, anyone else's problems. Hell, that's the reason I'm ranting in the first place. And honey, some of the people you talk about are so sick of it, they can punch you in the face.


I understand that you have problems. I'm sorry you do. But find a better way to solve them. An electronic diary is not one. And taking my name in something I find a waste of my time, just to make me sound like a villain and you the helpless victim, is definitely not one either.

I hope my words haven't hurt you too much.
Have fun writing VanillaSweetheart,
I bet we all would be clutching our seats with anticipation for your next post.

With loads of disgust,
Saanya A,
Talk The Talk

Good Job, Steve Jobs! (A terrible title for an amazing inventer)

In light of Mr. Steve Jobs' recent death, this blog has dedicated itself to. I have decided that after months of not posting anything, my comeback post will be to him. Though to Apple I am nothing, to me Apple is close to everything. The man was an inspiration and he will be missed so much by the world that I swear the kids of my grand kids will mourn each year on this day. Here is a short review on all the Apple products I have:

1) The iPod 30GB Video:

My review-This was the first Apple product I got and I still treasure it. Incredible still and always will be.

2) The iPod Shuffle 1st Generation:

A gift from my dad. Mine is purple too (I love purple so this was a perfect gift) And though some people complain because they can't choose the exact song they want to listen to without searching a lot, I never really had any trouble with it. It's an epic little thing.

3) The iPad I:

Another gift from my dad. God, I love this thing so much. At first I was so afraid to own it that I had nightmares that I spoiled it. I used to wake up at night, go to my desk, hug it and then go back to sleep. Yeeeaaaah, probably shouldn't have admitted that. But wow, this thing is beautiful.

4) The Macbook:

Okay so technically it's my mum's but I'm using it now so I suppose I can call it part mine. Maybe. Not. But it's so fun and fast and pretty!

5) The iPhone 4:

 This one's my baby. I just got it and I'm head over heels in love. My brother had it in black so I already knew the features but mine is white. Yes, it is a big difference. I named it Pattie Luphone. After Pattie Lupone. You know her. YOU SHOULD KNOW HER.

That's her just beeteedubloo.

So there, five wonderful Apple products. I love every one of them and will cherish them till I die. Steve Jobs did an exceptional job with every product he ever made. Rest In Peace sir, I'll miss your brilliance forever.

Free Yourself

--I miss writing here. It's been too long but I have just been so busy. I can't even think straight, let alone write well. But I wrote this a while ago, when I felt like a terrible person. That happens sometimes but I accept that and am trying to get better. Another reason that I'm updating right now is because I feel that way right now. But I'll be better by the time this entry gets 3 views. I think. Anyways, this is pure fiction, I think it's easier making up stories while writing poems. My own life is too messed up to rhime. So now, after months, here you are, a useless poem:

         

Free Yourself

     Free yourself from the falling tears,

Remember the lies as the truth,

    Pretend as if everything's alright,

Even if the pain continues to intrude.

    Free yourself from the selfish desires,

Remember the times when there were none.

   Live in those times, kill those thoughts,

For those times should help you through the times to come.

    Free yourself from the cutting pain,

Think o fit as a sensation in your mind.

  Think, though even when the pain would end,

It will always leave a residue behind.

   Free yourself dark sorrow,

Paint happy memories instantly,

  Free yourself from the tainted and bad,

Free yourself from me.

I'm not perfect, not even close. Don't be like me. You can be an angel, but I can turn you black. I can turn you against the light and everything you believe in. Then even if you become mine, you won't be this epitome of pureness that you are now. You won't be my angel. You'd be my fallen angel.

Hear me out....

Sometimes people don't agree with how I see the world. Usually they think I'm just plain stupid and wrong. What they don't realize is that there can be more than just a 'right' or 'wrong' answer to a statement. Maybe there can be multiple reasons. But even while I write this I know that there will be a lot of people thinking that I write rubbish and that this post is well...... Wrong. Most of these people might even be relatives of mine who stumble across this blog. And although I really don't want them to hate me or my way of thinking, I have to write this. As this is my blog, I have to write my thoughts, my opinions and my suggestions. I don't mean to hurt anyone but i do have a freedom to speech. At home a lot of people don't pay attention to what I say. In an earlier post I wrote about how someone can hear but not listen and honestly, that was from personal experience. I want my voice to be heard and this was a good way to do it. But even as I started this blog I got warned by everyone I knew to not say something that might cause trouble for me by the conservative people who believe in only the 'right' and 'wrong' answers. That was their way of saying that if I wrote something They didn't believe in, it would cause trouble for me by Them. Of course, I tried looking at the situation from their shoes but it didn't suit me well. Still I try to keep an open mind to what they said every time I sit down to write. The reason I don't post often is because the things I want and need to say are silenced. I believe in things a lot of people in India don't. I believe in things a lot of people all around the world don't. But does this mean that these things are not supposed to be believed in? Does this mean that I don't have the freedom to believe? I hope not.

I just want a place where I can present the world from my point of view. I don't ask anyone to agree with me but it would be nice to not be shushed all the time. If anyone who doesn't believe in what I say comes across this, they can simply choose to not read it. Trust me, I won't hunt you down and kill you. In return, I would like the reason for writing this blog back. I would like the freedom to write it. 

I'm not a bad person. I won't write in a way that will hurt anyone. And if something I say does hurt someone, I apologize in advance. I respect all perceptions even though I may or may not believe in them. All I ask for is the same.

Cricket slays me. In all the wrong ways.

Cricket is one of the few sports I find so mind numbingly boring that I cannot stand to watch it for more than 3 minuets. I find this game, irritating, frustrating, overrated for no apparent reason, almost always fixed and of course slower than a turtle injured on all 4 of its legs. Now, before i seem like my country's traitor and the police stick wanted posters of me all over town (they do stuff like that when you hate something they live by) let me explain my hatred.

Growing up in beautiful and oh-so-blessed land known to all as India (yes, I AM writing this just so Indians reading this post can be merciful later.) I have witnessed my country having a special interest in this sport. To be honest, it is more of an obsession than an interest. Every Indian boy has a faze in his life when he truly believes that he will grow up to be one of the great cricket players of India who's pictures he has taped on the walls of his bedroom, bathroom and even car dashboard (well, his dad's car dashboard.) And these boys will fight his parents to buy him one of those extremely ugly cricket kits along with the bats and balls. Little do they know then that they will, like those before them, use this equipment for about 5 days and then retire to their  television sets to watch the matches instead of playing them. True story.

And so as you can imagine, the marvelous people of this great nation (still kissing ass here) will not stand to hear a word against the game that has become their life, the game that is more loved than their partners, the game that had a bigger impact on them than their children. So how can a give them the dreaded truth? That the sport they adore is just a sport. More than that, it is a terrible sport. I can't, can I? And so, due to this I live my life dreading the day of a match. 'Cos this is no ordinary day, no don't you believe for a Second that it is. Schools declare holidays and offices give half days, something they don't do on festivals as big as Id. And then these cricket freaks sit in front of the tele with their eyes glued to it with more concentration than ever before in their lives.

But because I have to (more like want to) I suppose I'll force out the truth- Cricket is too long, has sweaty fat men running about and frankly, I have no idea why everyone can enjoy men hitting balls so much. Hello? It happens on TNA all the time. And wrestling can qualify as a worthwhile sport.
Cricket has as much importance to my life as Rebbeca Black's song "Friday" does. I hate it and always will. And now, dear people who talk to me during the ICC World Cup season, please note that I have no idea what the score is, I can't predict the winner and I WILL punch you if you ask me the batting average. In my opinion, cricket is as useless a game as curling (yes that game where they have giant brooms to sweep huge ass hockey pucks into circles.)

     Now if you will excuse me, the news informs me that a mob consisting of my entire country is coming to get me so I have to end this rant and run away from these fat black people.
P.S- I'm not racist. They want to torture me. I'm entitled to say that =/

Words

There is something so therapeutic about writing. Just writing...anything. On paper you can do anything, become anyone you want to or remain the way you are without anyone hating that. On a bad day, I write. No tears. No fights. Just words. And they come pouring out, like they want to be there. Like they belong there. They're filled with all the emotions I keep stored up. Sometimes I reserve such emotions so that later I can go and type them into a story. Sounds pathetic but it's actually a better use of emotion. I believe that if serial killers or depressed people slitting their wrists would just sit down and write for a bit, they might reach a better place than the one they are in. This is because there's no identity when you write- no names or race or gender or sexual orientation because what your words are is what You are then. In stories and poems everything can be perfect and nobody will doubt you or disgrace you. You're free then, for those fleetingly few minuets or hours, you are completely free to be....you. Penning down real feelings so that you don't have to suppress them or fight them. Entering a new world when the real one seems too complicated. That's the magic of writing. 
     It's the reason why I, personally, started this blog. I didn't crave or expect any followers. Of course I LIKE having people read my thoughts and words, in fact I even love that. But just having a forum to write is one of the best things that has happened to me. Someday I wish I can do more than just help myself with this. I wish my words can help someone who needs it. The only problem is, I don't know how to do that. Reading good blogs really clears my head so I'm just going to try to not write too many crappy posts. 
    Until my ink dries and computer crashes, I'll keep trying with the faith of my words. We'll see how it goes from there on.