Let's get something straight here. I have a biological problem that prevents me from working in discipline. Or under pressure. I'm more of the fuck it, this is what I feel like doing right now kind of person. Except, of course, when it's things that will decide everything. The make-or-break things. Like studying, and college admissions. You know, the stuff I'm insanely anal about.
But otherwise, no use telling me, or my telling myself to do things. I decided to write this blog. Actually, we did, but still. And instead, I wrote about everything else. I have an assortment of pointless pieces sitting in a 'My Work' folder on my desktop. We have been doing things on the list. Obviously. But we're short for time. We have ten days left, and a FUCKLOAD of things to do. Huh. So we're going to have to cut a thing or two off the list. Please. There's no list police, nobody has to know, right? Right.
So, obviously the no smoking week is out. Either way, I've cut down to about three cigs a day, which is, if I may say so myself, the boss. I mean, that's 21 a week. That's how much I used to smoke over two days, a week ago. So I'm going to give myself a pat on my back, and, as a reward, I will not do the no smoking week. Right? Seems fair to me, too.
So, coming to the list. We watched a play this Saturday. It was awful. I'm sorry, Motley, but if you want to experiment in theatre, stay the hell away from George Bernard Shaw. He is not to experimented with. While the actors belted out the dialogue in cheesy accents and fake voices, Shaw lay in his grave, moaning and begging for his pipe so he could calm his frazzled nerves. I could hear him.
On another note, one of my favourite musicians in the world, Ray Manzarek, keyboardist and the glue that bound The Doors together, died last week. I found out while I was at work. And this may sound silly, but it hurt. It really hurt. It felt like everybody I respected in the world of music, was leaving the world to the idiots who made music off computer programmes. That day, I pulled out my earphones, played The Doors on a loop, and wrote poetry to Morrison's voice, Manzarek's music, Krieger's notes and Densmore's beats- hoping that someday, somebody would want to sing my words, too. That's what they gave me. Hope. First Morrison, then Lennon, now Ray- I don't know how much longer I'll be able to stay sane in a world where Akon is all things cool in the global music scene. Maybe I can count on Dylan, though, That man NEVER dies. ;)
We went all around the city. To South Bombay for drinks. Prithvi for the play. Into this AMAZING shopping complex in Powai, where shopping is this mysterious, beautiful monster that seduces you into the darkening shadows of ATM machines and reducing bank balances. I just can't stop shopping. It's a disease. Speaking of shopping, I really want to go to Colaba Causeway again. I saw this pair of killer shades there I've been having wet dreams about. And besides, one can never have too few accessories.
Mila and I plan to go clubbing this Friday. Bring out the Nine Wests, ladies and gents! But that said, we need to be a little thrifty in general, so we're Googling Ladies' Nights all over Bombay. To no avail, of course. But mainly because when a website says 'Free alcohol all night!', we instinctively suspect them of having concocted a very elaborate scheme to extort five grand from us, anyway.
Oh, and I had a bit of a pregnancy scare the other day. And when I mean scare, I mean SCARE. I didn't tell anyone, obviously, and it's not like I missed a date or something. It was just a day of utter paranoia and despair. I had stomach cramps, nausea, the whole deal. Yes, I know, symptoms like those emerge only three weeks into the fertilization- yeah, I know my Biology, babe. But you can't blame me. Try talking to a weeping me, who thinks she's going to have to quit college, marry some guy her parents pick and move into the suburbs, about implantation. What's worse, I didn't tell anyone. Not even my boy. Because I KNEW I was being an arse. I really did. But I couldn't help it. Don't you know? Worrying is a compulsive trait. It's all fine now, though. I've been thinking about other things to worry about. Maybe I could now fixate on how the house is so dirty. Yeah, there come the palpitations. Predictable bastards.
Oh, AND, I made a new friend! A lot of new friends, actually. But the most surprising one, was Sushmita. Mila and I met her on a train to CST. Mil and I were talking about this:
And she said she couldn't help overhearing, and that our conversation made her miss being a girl. So we included her in it! We spoke about shopping, places to relax, and how much we loved the city. It was great. And sort of reaffirmed my faith in people. And in this city.
They really don't care enough about each others' lives. That's why everybody gets along so well.
Speaking of cities and their people, I don't think I want to ever visit Japan. EVER. I have a non-racist explanation, wait!
Mila and I watched The Grudge 2 in the darkness the other day. I still can't close my eyes entirely in the shower. I can almost hear the burp-like breathing of some dead Japanese woman. Why do they do this to their audiences? No, why?
It WAS pretty funny when the electricity failed when Mila was in the shower, though. She FLIPPED. Ah, life's small joys. But the movie. Crap. It was bad. I knew that. I dissected it as much as I could, so I could take focus off the content of the film. Didn't work. Shut my eyes through most of the movie, ended up- by pure accident, watching the only two ACTUALLY frightening scenes in the movie.
Eep. No more horror movies, ever. The only thing that made me feel better is that Mila was fifty times more scared than I was.
This is what I dream about at night. I hate little-kid ghosts. Fucking scary.
Okay, enough of this nonsense. On, to more interesting things.
So Mil and I did a nude photoshoot.
Told you it was interesting.
It was SO liberating. Man. I made Mila start, because for some reason, I was nervous as a fuck. I must've gone through two packs in three hours. But, in the end, it was really good. It felt relaxed, and easy, and empowering, in a weird way. It felt like fetters were being loosed, and burdens were let loose. Did I mention I love being naked? I mean, not in front of other people, but just in general. So this felt like letting go. It was nice. Plus, looking at the pictures made me feel like a sex goddess. In my own head. Love the feeling. Make mental note to feel it more.
Sneak peek? This is Mil's photograph of me. Before the clothes came off, that is. *blushes*
On another note, I wrote another post about my style inspiration, to whom I owe an independent update. I'll put it up in a bit.
In the meanwhile, I'm wondering how much fun it'll be if we combine No Bra Day and Red Lipstick Day into one big, slutty day.
Love,
Arya.
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