<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849</id><updated>2011-08-12T13:46:36.310+05:30</updated><category term='Random'/><category term='Delhi Diaries'/><category term='Saree'/><category term='Fight'/><category term='Uz'/><category term='Whine-Queen'/><category term='My Chikas'/><category term='Dream'/><category term='Wedding'/><category term='Cryptic'/><category term='Shopping'/><category term='IPL'/><category term='FunnyIMHO'/><category term='Rant'/><category term='The Four Letter Word'/><category term='Gaana'/><category term='Fiction'/><category term='Gyaan Guru'/><category term='Mom'/><category term='Y'/><category term='Guest'/><category term='Tig Tag Toe'/><title type='text'>Queen. Drama Queen.</title><subtitle type='html'>Keeping The Nautanki On.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>50</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-7519807546250184483</id><published>2009-12-30T16:23:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-30T16:27:05.666+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Happy New Year and all that jazz.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;This, the later part of December, is my favourite time of the year, maybe second to my birthday part of the year, but whatever. All the festivity for Christmas and new year, and the whole ‘new year, new beginning’ thing really appeals to me. It brings with it long commentaries on The Year That Was in almost all the major newspapers and periodicals, which for no particular reason, make me very happy. Also the holidays and nothing much to do -ness gets you introspecting and pondering over the usual; circumstances have changed and the context is different but the same old questions torment me once again. My existence is yet to be justified. There’s so much to be done, and the process hasn’t even begun. How good is good enough? How much is too much? Where does right end and wrong begin? Where do we draw the line?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;s&gt;January to April passed in a blur. The school annual function. Exams, exams and more exams. Board Examinations. JEE. The total screw-up. The regret. [The demons of which still continue to haunt me at night, though less frequently now. One day, I will get over it] The much-awaited long vacations. Which were really not much fun. Restlessness. Anxiety. Results. Moroseness. Numbness. IIT Delhi. Cramped rooms. Stinky loos. Homesickness. Helplessness. Hopelessness. Introduction to Quantum Chemistry. Introduction to weird sicko guys. And scheming (p)sycophantic girls. Missing a practical class, the following quiz, allegedly resulting in missing a grade. Missing the next grade by a whisker in multiple courses. Bad grades. All’s bad that ends bad? Being mean. Guilt trips. Stupid mistakes. Guilt trips. Being a prick through the Goa trip. Guilt trips. Boy, this has been one unfulfilling year. I wonder why I am doing this post.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/s&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;It will be alright, won’t it? Someday?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Please don’t give up on me. I am trying my best. Okay, no more moaning. I understand I am the joker, and the joke is on me.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“Love is like a flower, even the most beautiful kind dies.” – Till Lindemann&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Farewell. Photos. Best student - IX to XII. NCO 17. IMO 27. Shopping. Loads of it. A’s big confession. Long emotional speeches. Long emotional letters. Promises to remain in constant touch [kept]. Anticipation. Excitement. College. Momos. Butterscotch icecream. Institute roof. QC events. Rendezvous. Strawberry Shortcake. The mushroom and black olives wala pasta they have at Pizza Square [Absolute Fabulosity].&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;So the nice parts are fewer in number than the bad ones, and mostly consist of ‘alimentary’ accomplishments, but this is a post I had written a few days ago, and I hate it now and I hate the fact that I can do nothing to make it a little bit brighter or even remotely readable, am back in my self-loathing state and I’m sorry but right now I cannot ‘count my blessings’. The above passage was my last attempt at trying to make this cheerful. Sadly, there’s not much I can think of right now which kind of reinforces my belief in the fact that I am totally worthless and insignificant. Very very abruptly now, but since this was the point of the post, here’s wishing me[and everyone else] a super-awesomely happy, exciting, cheery AND lucky 2010 which will hopefully find me a better person.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;Happy New Year! May it be your best yet.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;PS – This also turns out to be my 50&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; post. [Not counting the first post Uz so sweetly deleted, and then the one I did] Congratulate me. Or bite me. Either way, wouldn’t make much difference. Wow. Am I miserable or am I miserable?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-7519807546250184483?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/7519807546250184483/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=7519807546250184483&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7519807546250184483'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7519807546250184483'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/12/happy-new-year-and-all-that-jazz.html' title='Happy New Year and all that jazz.'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-145686480149007642</id><published>2009-12-24T00:30:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-24T00:36:44.859+05:30</updated><title type='text'>...Santa that's my only wish this year...</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); font-family:Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="text-align: auto;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#000000;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="border-collapse: collapse;  line-height: normal;font-size:medium;"&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; World Peace. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Female empowerment.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Roomie attaining enlightenment, promising to keep the room neat, clean and green. And I am not very particular about the last part.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Educational opportunities for the retards who write the dialogues for the Star Plus/Colours/Sony soaps.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Restraint over my words and actions. Also over my mind, which seems to have a mind and mood of its own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Compassion, not just towards fellow humans, but also for our four-legged furry friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Better understanding of the human psyche.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; The ability to stick to my plans.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; An opportunity to change someone's life, make a difference, a positive one.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Forgiveness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Unexpected hugs. Nothing, and I repeat, nothing makes me happier. Conditions apply though, please smell nice. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Choco excess, Barista. On my to-do list.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Earphones which fit into my ears. Honestly, I never seem to find a pair which would stay inside. I have unnaturally small ears, maybe, but they seem to keep dropping off on their own. The earphones, and not the ears, I mean.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Alvin and the Chipmunks version of 'She Will Be Loved'. I am just totally unable to download it, though I did find it on youtube, but I want the mp3 version, one which can be stored and listened to at will, on my cellphone.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; A surprise party. I have never had one. Surprise parties are meant for birthdays, occasions which get me humongously excited, like a year before they actually arrive. Which kind of means the day after my birthday, I start preparing for the next one, which is kind of true. The point is, I am so totally into my big elaborate party myself, I never gave people the opportunity to surprise me with one! Though considering the fact that my best friends are like the epitome of laziness, I wonder if they would give me one even if I hadn't had one planned already. Sigh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Infinite supply of Mountain Dew and Cheetos 'Masala Balls'.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Guitar-playing guy. :D&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Return of Powerpuff Girls, Dexter's Lab, Pokemon, Flintstones, Jetsons on Cartoon Network, and also F.R.I.E.N.D.S.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; Soft toys. Can you ever have enough of them?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&gt; 'All we need is love'. Not really. Maybe we need more expression. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;PS - The title is a very sweet song by Britney, go give it a hear.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:georgia;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-body entry-content" style="text-align: auto;margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; line-height: 1.6em; "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="post-footer" style="margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; "&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-145686480149007642?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/145686480149007642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=145686480149007642&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/145686480149007642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/145686480149007642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/12/santa-thats-my-only-wish-this-year_24.html' title='...Santa that&apos;s my only wish this year...'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-8825076205690732150</id><published>2009-12-22T23:06:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-24T00:27:35.498+05:30</updated><title type='text'>...Give me reason but don't give me choice, 'cause I'll just make the same mistake again...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div  id="songlyrics" align="left" style="font-family:verdana;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;I deleted the entire message archive on my cell today.&lt;br /&gt;And yes, this is big, big enough to warrant a blog entry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There have been resolutions taken tonight. Hopefully they will seem as good in the morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Same Mistake - James Blunt&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saw the world turning in my sheets and once again I cannot sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Walk out the door and up the street; look at the stars beneath my feet.&lt;br /&gt;Remember rights that I did wrong, so here I go.&lt;br /&gt;Hello, hello. There is no place I cannot go.&lt;br /&gt;My mind is muddy but my heart is heavy. Does it show?&lt;br /&gt;I lose the track that loses me, so here I go.&lt;br /&gt;And so I sent some men to fight, and one came back at dead of night.&lt;br /&gt;Said he'd seen my enemy. Said he looked just like me,&lt;br /&gt;So I set out to cut myself and here I go.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not calling for a second chance,&lt;br /&gt;I'm screaming at the top of my voice.&lt;br /&gt;Give me reason but don't give me choice.&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'll just make the same mistake again.&lt;br /&gt;And maybe someday we will meet, and maybe talk and not just speak.&lt;br /&gt;Don't buy the promises 'cause, there are no promises I keep.&lt;br /&gt;And my reflection troubles me, so here I go.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not calling for a second chance,&lt;br /&gt;I'm screaming at the top of my voice.&lt;br /&gt;Give me reason but don't give me choice.&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'll just make the same mistake,&lt;br /&gt;I'm not calling for a second chance,&lt;br /&gt;I'm screaming at the top of my voice.&lt;br /&gt;Give me reason but don't give me choice.&lt;br /&gt;'Cause I'll just make the same mistake again.&lt;br /&gt;Saw the world turning in my sheets and once again I cannot sleep.&lt;br /&gt;Walk out the door and up the street; look at the stars.&lt;br /&gt;Look at the stars fall down.&lt;br /&gt;And wonder where did I go wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - And maybe someday we will meet, and maybe talk and not just speak.&lt;br /&gt;Don't buy the promises 'cause, there are no promises I keep.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;             &lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Yf4xgf3gL4w&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Yf4xgf3gL4w&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-8825076205690732150?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/8825076205690732150/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=8825076205690732150&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8825076205690732150'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8825076205690732150'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/12/give-me-reason-but-dont-give-me-choice.html' title='...Give me reason but don&apos;t give me choice, &apos;cause I&apos;ll just make the same mistake again...'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-7098510324285732456</id><published>2009-12-14T12:22:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-14T22:02:46.922+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Would you make me number one on your playlist?</title><content type='html'>Its official. I agree with MTV. Twilight is gay. Its like, a mountain of mush. *Brokeback Mountain of Mush, did you say? :P*. It begins okay, all high school-ey and cute-ish, but then goes on to oh-my-God-one-of-my-flying-in-the-wind-hairstrands-was-within-a-metre-of-the-nail-on-Edward's-pinky-finger-and-so-I-get-my-cardiac-arrested. And am sorry but all it makes me feel is, well, nauseous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Clad in brown trousers and a chequered white shirt, unfailingly he comes, every night at 8 30, and mornings at 7. Without complaining, without flinching, Bhavesh braves through the tasks of washing, cleaning, dusting, and the likes, bestowing upon him the honour of being my mom's Knight in Shining Armor. As we sat having dinner, mom cracked a fairly humorous joke, not rib-crackingly hilarious but funny enough to deserve a chuckle. But me being me, got my famed insane fit of giggles which later metamorphosed into mammoth hysteria, so much so I started choking on my &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;dal&lt;/span&gt;. What registered with the auditory senses was an eclectic hybrid of giggles mated with the gasping-gurgling-attempts-at-oxygen. My parents being my parents had had enough experiences of my 'freak of nature'ness and hence calmly continued eating, mentally trying to convince themselves of the fact that I was in fact, but a consequence of their own gene pool. When suddenly a breathless figure appeared on the anvil *okay, door*, terror writ large on his face *okay, I exaggerate*. "&lt;i&gt;Kya hua?&lt;/i&gt;" Bhavesh asked, with more than a subtle hint of fear marking his voice. "&lt;i&gt;Kuch nahi, has rahi hai!&lt;/i&gt;" said Dad, obviously embarrassed. "&lt;i&gt;Oh, mujhe laga wo gir gayi aur ro rahi hai..&lt;/i&gt;".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I can't bring myself to meet his eyes. Not that I wanted to stare deep into them for eternity or anything, but you know. I can't even look at him, I am like Embarrassed with a capital E, followed by a capital M, and then a capital B, you get the drift. What the world come to be. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Continuing with the &lt;i&gt;she&lt;/i&gt; series. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;She was, indeed, living a fairytale, with just a slight twist, what with the Hero and the Bad Guy being the same person. She thought his lying would make it easier for her. And she was wrong, as usual. There was a time when she would reread his messages and smile, now she just feels sick. She shakes her head and laughs at being in the QuestionMark mode all this while, when the answer lay stark in front of her. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was too lazy to reach out for the remote and change the channel, which gave me an opportunity to be apprised of certain gems, which would only be found, abundantly so, on Star Plus, such as this one:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;i&gt;Tumne us neech jaath ki Sarla ke chawal ki kheer banayi?&lt;/i&gt;" *thwacks the wife*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just sitting through a half-hour daily makes me want to do so much to the script/dialogue writers, details of which will remain unmentioned, for this blog believes in the Gandhian ideals of peace and non-violence.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Oh and  just by the way, I think opening multiple windows instead of multiple tabs, is very very lame. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-7098510324285732456?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/7098510324285732456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=7098510324285732456&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7098510324285732456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7098510324285732456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/12/would-you-make-me-number-one-on-your.html' title='Would you make me number one on your playlist?'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-7021288590882449104</id><published>2009-12-13T09:33:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-13T10:31:49.192+05:30</updated><title type='text'>slit wrists, again.</title><content type='html'>This was not what she had expected. Definitely not what she had wanted. Those were the paths she had vowed never to tread again. Yet she found herself on the same crossroads. Or maybe, not. There wasn't a choice left to make, now. She had unconsciously decided on the direction, while still in the trance. Now that she had finally removed her rainbow-coloured glasses, only to find herself on the point of no return, she wanted to go back. Nothing in her life had ever been in her control, and this was no exception. She realised she had used up her lifetime's share of will power, and the vestiges of her sanity were fast dwindling as well. She realised there's only so much she could do when she was just a puppet on strings, in the hands of someone who didn't even realise. Realise his power on her was but an exponential function, every tiny maneuver producing a colossal emotional upheaval. And then she gave up her pretences, her high and mighty wall of defences. And then she broke down and cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And God said "Let there be light". And there was light. &lt;br /&gt;And so she moved to the darkness. The light brought to sight so much she didn't want to see.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-7021288590882449104?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/7021288590882449104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=7021288590882449104&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7021288590882449104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7021288590882449104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/12/slit-wrists-again.html' title='slit wrists, again.'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-3440913012285319161</id><published>2009-12-12T14:37:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-14T11:14:46.926+05:30</updated><title type='text'>"..and so the lion fell in love with the lamb.."</title><content type='html'>"And I knew in that I had my answer. I didn't know if there was ever a choice, really. I was already in too deep. Now that I knew - &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;if&lt;/span&gt; I knew - I could do nothing about my frightening secret. Because when I thought of him, of his voice, his hypnotic eyes, the magnetic force of his personality, I wanted nothing more than to be with him right now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even if.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-&gt;Twilight&lt;-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yqsMbFEfCC4&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yqsMbFEfCC4&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-3440913012285319161?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/3440913012285319161/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=3440913012285319161&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/3440913012285319161'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/3440913012285319161'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/12/and-i-knew-in-that-i-had-my-answer.html' title='&quot;..and so the lion fell in love with the lamb..&quot;'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-8012024934339666680</id><published>2009-12-05T23:30:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-06T01:01:09.414+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rant'/><title type='text'>so psyched-ness is a permanent state of my mind now</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;And if there's somebody in your life who you think would only be remembered as a regret, maybe you need to chuck him out, here and now, because there's no going back. No pretending it never happened. Because it &lt;i&gt;looks&lt;/i&gt; like the easiest option but sorry, it doesn't work out. You just realise they are too much 'into' you for you to shut them out. You realise you are not a child anymore and that closing your eyes will not make you invisible to other people. And when you open them again, things will be the same around you. That you only get to spend so much time in Fantasyland, and then 'Show's over', your ticket ain't valid no longer. Too much you-know-about-them, too much they-know-about-you, too much happiness, too much hurt, just too many memories. Decoding every subtle attempt at sarcasm, looking through every fake smile, catching every hint of a tear, and yet trying not to look into those omniscient eyes is no fun. You could be lucky and not run into him and everything would seem fine, but put yourself and your insane-mess-of-emotions within a 2 metre radius of him for a couple of hours, and you are no longer in the amethyst-bed-covers-and-cheery-lilac-curtains room: suffocated with teddy bears, karaoke-ing away to the latest Katy Perry, you are holding on to the phone listening to the dead staccato beats, trying not to let the tears stream down your face.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Piling up hopes, only to crumble into a heap-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I need to give up before I fall in too deep.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Note - Please don't take offences, anybody, it isn't about you, okay maybe it is, but it isn't just about you, its also the other you, and more of me and my indefatigable stream of abstruse thoughts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Dad asked me what I count as the happiest moment of my life, or maybe one of the moments I was exceptionally over-the-top happy? I could think of none. Has my life been that shallow and uninspiring? Can you tell me what was yours? Or if lucky, one of &lt;i&gt;them&lt;/i&gt; happiest mo's?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;---&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I so need that Goa trip next week. Maybe I'll throw away my laptop and cell phone at home, disconnect from the world, and try and attain some 'moksha' from the proverbial 'moh-maya'.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-8012024934339666680?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/8012024934339666680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=8012024934339666680&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8012024934339666680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8012024934339666680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/12/so-psyched-ness-is-permanent-state-of.html' title='so psyched-ness is a permanent state of my mind now'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-5975821849931666916</id><published>2009-12-04T20:10:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-04T22:27:46.799+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tig Tag Toe'/><title type='text'>Tag-ilicious</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;Have you ever had to choose between two people? If so, how hard was it?&lt;br /&gt;- No. Or maybe I don't remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you have a member of the opposite sex you've told everything to?&lt;br /&gt;- Yes. Sad I don't talk to him anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever lost a friend(s)? How?&lt;br /&gt;- Again, none I remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you honestly have any regrets?&lt;br /&gt;- Yes, loads.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you met anybody that changed your life?&lt;br /&gt;-Changed the way I behave, yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Missing anybody?&lt;br /&gt;- Not really. Got over missing people, its not worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you in any kind of emotional pain right now?&lt;br /&gt;- No, just menstrual. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you believe in marriage? Do you plan on getting married someday?&lt;br /&gt;- Yeah, more or less.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which is harder: walking away from somebody you love or coming back to somebody who has hurt you?&lt;br /&gt;- Walking away is ALWAYS harder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would your new last name be if you married the last person who texted?&lt;br /&gt;- Shrivastava, I don't intend on changing my surname.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has your heart ever truly ached for somebody?&lt;br /&gt;- Don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When did you last cry?&lt;br /&gt;- Yesterday.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it easier to pretend everything's okay for you?&lt;br /&gt;- I don't do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever cried while you were on the phone with someone?&lt;br /&gt;- Loads of times.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you take walks often?&lt;br /&gt;- Oh yes, and I have somebody to thank for it. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet you're talking to someone right now, aren't you?&lt;br /&gt;- No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could you forgive your best friend for sleeping with the guy/girl you like?&lt;br /&gt;- Maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do any girls/guys hate you because you went out with their ex?&lt;br /&gt;- Never done anything like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think "I love you" are strong words?&lt;br /&gt;- Yes, and ones I use very loosely, I should be careful on who I choose to spend them on, no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you nice to everyone?&lt;br /&gt;- Yes. I try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever receive a really long apology?&lt;br /&gt;- Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does a kiss make you feel better?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;- Hugs do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is anything bugging you right now?&lt;br /&gt;- Yes, a weird sense of null-and-void-ness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you think you could live without your cell phone?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;- I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you date someone that none of your friends like?&lt;br /&gt;- Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you woke up as the opposite gender, what’s the 1st thing you would do?&lt;br /&gt;- Get upset?!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you want a well-paying job or a job you enjoy?&lt;br /&gt;- Well paying, if I have to make a choice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you like hugs?&lt;br /&gt;- So much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where do you want to go to college?&lt;br /&gt;- "I am where you want to be" - on my college teeshirt. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is any part of your body sore?&lt;br /&gt;- Voicebox, I talk a lot. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who was the last girl to say something to you?&lt;br /&gt;- Mum asked me to take my meds, if it counts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there anyone you would seriously punch right now if you had the chance?&lt;br /&gt;- No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You're thinking about somebody right now, aren't you?&lt;br /&gt;- My goldfish who died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why did you last cry?&lt;br /&gt;- Was watching 'A Walk to Remember'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you looking for a girlfriend/boyfriend?&lt;br /&gt;- A fairytale love story, would be more like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you wish you were somewhere else right now?&lt;br /&gt;- No, I am where I want to be. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When was the last time you laughed really hard?&lt;br /&gt;- Couple of hours ago?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did anyone see you kiss the last person you kissed?&lt;br /&gt;- I don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will you kiss the last person you kissed again?&lt;br /&gt;- Maybe. If she's had a bath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you currently wanting any piercings or tattoos?&lt;br /&gt;- Tattoo on the shoulder blade. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you like your life as of now?&lt;br /&gt;- Could be better, on the academic front.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last time you walked on the beach at night?&lt;br /&gt;- 6 years. Diu. School trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you always answer your phone?&lt;br /&gt;- Yes, even when I am angry at the call-er.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there a high chance of you going out to the movies soon?&lt;br /&gt;- Yes, tomorrow. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Has anyone told you they would never leave and left?&lt;br /&gt;- Nobody's said that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When was the last time you talked to one of your siblings?&lt;br /&gt;- No siblings.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something that confused you today?&lt;br /&gt;- Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did you last sleep other than your house?&lt;br /&gt;- Hostel room?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you plan on getting drunk in the near future?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;- I want to get drunk real bad once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you sleep with the door open or closed?&lt;br /&gt;- Open&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If your ex said they hated you, what would you say?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;- "Too bad". :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you feel about your hair right now?&lt;br /&gt;- I could get it straightened, I don't know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever had a best friend of the opposite sex?&lt;br /&gt;- Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Fess up, who was the last person you thought about kissing?&lt;br /&gt;- I kissed my roomie when she was mad at me for not disposing off the newspapers, though I don't know if it calmed her down so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Name one person you wish you could fix things with, and why haven’t you?&lt;br /&gt;- Nobody I can remember.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you find smoking unattractive?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"   style="  color: rgb(51, 51, 51); line-height: 14px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"&gt;- Very.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever found it hard to get over someone?&lt;br /&gt;- Not really.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Will you be in bed within twenty minutes?&lt;br /&gt;- Don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are you friends with someone who's older than you?&lt;br /&gt;- Yes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Does anyone think that you're a bitch?&lt;br /&gt;- I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your honest opinion: high school, best or worst years of your life?&lt;br /&gt;- Somewhere in between.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever stolen from someone?&lt;br /&gt;- No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is there anything in your past you just don't talk about at all?&lt;br /&gt;- No.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 14px;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 14px;font-size:11px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 14px;font-size:11px;"&gt;Tagged by Misha.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"    style="font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:100%;color:#333333;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style=" line-height: 14px;font-size:11px;"&gt;I tag all my pretties who haven't updated in a while. So that's you Abhilasha, Disha, Vasudha, Novocaine. :)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-5975821849931666916?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/5975821849931666916/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=5975821849931666916&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/5975821849931666916'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/5975821849931666916'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/12/tag-ilicious.html' title='Tag-ilicious'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-4781692586145521549</id><published>2009-12-02T19:28:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2009-12-02T21:46:52.690+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Sweet Home Alabama, oops, Ahmedabad</title><content type='html'>So when this lady at the-counter-where-I-get-my boarding-pass asked me if I have any seat preferences, I wanted to say 'Next to Mr.Cute Guy pliss?', but ended up going 'window, if its possible', which it wasn't, for that matter. I am always very unlucky when it comes to my seating in journeys. There was this time I had actually managed a window one, but then Auntyji decided to encroach upon mine, and I was too sweet to say anything. I normally remain very psyched through air journeys and so it doesn't really matter. Plus I can just catch glimpses of the outside anyway, unless of course, Uncleji decides to hog it all to himself. The weird part is every time I have an aisle seat, Unclejies and Auntyjies next to me have to use the lavatory multiple times during those 85 minutes. And then the Hedonistaah has to wake up from her psyche-induced slumber, and shift and blah and bleh. You know about all those movies and novels where they have the female lead sit next to a cute guy, and then they get talking, and so on and so forth. Never happens to me. Only Us and As. &lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Mom was faint with super high BP yesterday. 100/150. And to think she normally has low BP. And do you know why? Because moi was to travel alone. Sheesh. We are a family of highly emotional fools.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My Math tutor at the JEE coaching place was all "OMG, you have become even thinner! On a diet or something?". And I weighed myself at the Doc's today. 52!! EEEEEEE. So I am back to 52. And so I binge. For a month. Yay.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Breaking News:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My. mom. is. teasing. me. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;With. a. guy. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Never. before. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Help. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;PS -  I love waking up to texts. *hint hint nudge nudge*&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-4781692586145521549?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/4781692586145521549/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=4781692586145521549&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4781692586145521549'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4781692586145521549'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/12/sweet-home-alabama-oops-ahmedabad.html' title='Sweet Home Alabama, oops, Ahmedabad'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-26729720232290051</id><published>2009-11-28T11:12:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-28T11:12:50.297+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I think I'm falling for you</title><content type='html'>Check out last Saturday's issue of Mint(HT supplement).&lt;br /&gt;Life-changing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At least for the next four hours, after which, I start whining about academics, roomies and fatty acids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cookie - "She called you a donkey."&lt;br /&gt;Zookie - "Wow. How accurate."&lt;br /&gt;Cookie - "I love that word."&lt;br /&gt;Zookie - "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;She&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;called&lt;/span&gt; or&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; donkey&lt;/span&gt; or..?"&lt;br /&gt;Cookie - "Teehee. You. You are my favourite word."&lt;br /&gt;Zookie - "You mean 'you'&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; is&lt;/span&gt; your favourite word."&lt;br /&gt;Cookie - "No. I mean you are my favourite word."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me and C went to Select Citywalk after the exam today. She had to get a birthday gift for somebody she is 'just friends' with. Anyway, so we ended up walking for four hours and could decide upon nothing. Blahness. Total blahness. Plus we weren't focussing on the task at hand. We spent quite a bit of time at 'Mothercare' going all 'EEEEEEEEE' at all the aww-somely cute teeny tiny thingumjigs over there. And also the Kids Section at Pantaloons. And Shopper's stop. Some days I feel so domesticated. And all housewife-y. Like when I Diwali clean-ed my room. Or when I organise and reorganise my cupboard(I could never understand why my Mom loved doing that). And when I yell at my roomies if they don't have meals at the proper time, or don't take their meds. Okay yes, I know I do those things too, but then I have somebody to yell at me too. Oh and its nice to have people yell at you. But then if its nice people we are talking about, you don't care if its yelling or shrieking or plain sweet-nothing-whispering as long as they're talking to you. :) Sheesh. I make it sound like such a favor. Or maybe it is. And and, don't you love 'tu jaane na' from the ajab movie? And and, aren't momos the best thing about Delhi?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No, they are not. The best thing about Delhi is its&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;c&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;rowd&lt;/span&gt;. **[Excluding certain IIT Profs here]&lt;br /&gt;Nice warm sweet. And also very very dressed up all the time. Random pretty woman in Select Citywalk showed us the way to the Metropolitan Mall. Like got up, and walked us half the way. Shweet no? And it could also be the fog. Or the beeyootiful IIT campus, and the MS, and the sight of the MS through that fog in the mornings. I like the fog. It gives you clarity of thought. [ironic, I know]. Teaches you to overlook certain blemishes, and that everything, in persepective, is pretty. Though I don't really get the point of all girls having rebonded (straightened) hair in here, I mean, whats the point? You end up looking the same. Like the next girl in tow. Okay but that may be me obsessing because I have hair which doesn't fall in the domain of either straight or curly. Its just intermediate. And I hate intermediate. It, in some weird way, stands for mediocrity for me. And while on the topic of best things about Delhi, let me not forget my Knights And Dames In Smiling Armour. So, three point two five cheers to Pouty Poo, Novo, and the Depletor of my Cellphone balance, TheDarkLord. Maybe my CS roomie too, agreed she has more wildlife in her head than Kaziranga, literally and metaphorically, but in all her buffoonery and rigid idiosyncracies, I think I have found a golden heart too, and she thinks I give the warmest hugs ever. So double brownie points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its been a measly peasly four months and I already have a memory bank, which I look into on and off, to gorge off on some sweet tidbit whenever the sugar levels are low. Maybe this is Delhi's gift to me. The memories. The random walks in and around the campus. Cafe Qahwa, Subway, Barista, Rainbows, Scissors, Archies. And when I go past them again, they bring a smile to my face. The tree I had sat down under listening to your stories. Random hugging on account of obtaining tickets to 'Love Aajkal'. Outside Priya. With people staring. One Tight Slap followed by 'It hurts' under 'Hate the Sin, Not the Sinner'. Passing out in the Chemistry Lab. And then being fussed over. The awkward lunches at SipNBite. The 'fanta' treat. The eerie calmness of the road to Green Park. The watchman you had asked directions from, to IIT. The shop in Jia Sarai we had walked a mile for, for a Sprite. Which you&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; jhutha&lt;/span&gt;-ed anyway. And the fact that I am okay with &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;jhutha&lt;/span&gt; now. Mind you, just yours and C's. The Ber Sarai book trip. Running across floors in the MS till 3 in the morning. Embarrassed. Trying to hide. 'Shutaap' on the pseudo-terrace in Citywalk. Walking into Levi's and going 'Anything under 300 after discount?'. The Password sharing ceremony at the Roundabout. Holding hands to sleep. Sharing blankets. Cuddling. Crying on the stairs of Bharti building. Crying five minutes to my eighteenth birthday. Getting lost on the highway. Watching you sleep in CYL. Bawling into your arms the night before Minor 1. Getting up, close and personal with Nitin Jain. *Okay, no up, no personal, but just a metre away. Ooh.* Going all 'Oh I am so going to miss you' and then not talking for days. Singing (if it can be called so) 'White Flag' at the top of our voices 3 hours before the MEL110 major. The Momos at SDA. The Kathi Rolls in that very shady street. Candles at India Gate. India-ness at India Gate.&lt;br /&gt;So, this is to Delhi *with its 'dil' and all, i don't know about &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;its&lt;/span&gt; 'dil', but it sure has mine* , I think I'm falling for you. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Hedonistaah is disappointed in the wizard of Uz. I thought we could do better than that. I thought you knew me better than that. 'So much for my happy ending' and all..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And, chinkypoo, you know why I like you so much with your twisted psyche? Because it gels so well with mine. Our psyches twist together, in tandem, like the two strands of the double helical DNA. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-26729720232290051?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/26729720232290051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=26729720232290051&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/26729720232290051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/26729720232290051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/11/i-think-im-falling-for-you.html' title='I think I&apos;m falling for you'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-8919813307509104740</id><published>2009-11-25T10:24:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-26T01:13:02.195+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Continuous and Comprehensive Evaluation</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cbse.nic.in/cce_logo.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 289px; height: 192px;" src="http://www.cbse.nic.in/cce_logo.gif" alt="" border="0"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-8919813307509104740?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/8919813307509104740/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=8919813307509104740&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8919813307509104740'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8919813307509104740'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/11/d.html' title='Continuous and Comprehensive Evaluation'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-7345334914293755814</id><published>2009-11-14T14:08:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-14T15:07:28.994+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>To the end of the world and back</title><content type='html'>Sometimes more than anybody and anything else in the world, I hate myself. And its not about me obsessing over trivial things even when I am on my oh-God-am-stuck-with-trivial-mortals-who-obsess-about-broken-nails-and-broken-relationships trip. No, I am not talking about me the hypocrite. Or me, the biased bitch. *Yes, I am very very biased, and prejudiced, and judgemental. The very things that endear X to me are those I find repulsive in Y.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So yesterday I was in a bad bad mood. And a 'how are you' sms from the DarkLord sent me to tears. Basically one of those phases when even a traffic jam can make you cry. And all I needed was a hug. And all I had in my room was my messy &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wali &lt;/span&gt;roomie. Only refuge, and I was very desperate. And as the roomie, who, by the way, I had called a bullshit-er 10 minutes ago, kindly wiped of the saline off my cheeks, all I could think of was if she had washed her hands after she'd used the loo the last time. And when I saw ink stains on her hands later, I really had bile up my throat.&lt;br /&gt;I am such an ungrateful wretch. And mental filth is harder to get rid of than physical dirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Elaborating on why 'how are you'-ness psyches me a lot - sometimes when you've got nothing going right, and people ask how you are, and you mentally start framing an answer to that question, do you realise how sad and pathetic your existence is. Everything in a properly worded/sentence form always has a stronger impact. At least for 'words are all I have' people like me, who unconsciously compose a narrative of every moment they spend awake, to exhaust on somebody who's probably not even interested in listening. I sound like dripping depression all the time these days. I am not like that, really. When I am not on my self-hating guilt trips, I am normally euphoric, delirious and delusional. Ask people who talk to me at 2 in the night. People who have all the time in the world to change their gmail theme, but not a moment to send in a one statement reply. :|&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you remember kids going "You're mental" when they meant "You're mad"? And even though the former isn't grammatically correct, don't you find it infinitely cuter?&lt;br /&gt;Doesn't it feel like somebody stopped short of saying 'You're mentally retarded', which though, would be a medical condition, which shouldn't be joked around with, but then so is madness. Somehow mentally retarded sounds all technical and hence, much more serious. That's the advantage with big words. Or maybe disadvantage. You can call somebody mad, and there'll be no issues, but call someone a retard, and people could take offense. Plus it sounds nasty too. Its weird how the same meaning words have different connotations. 'Pagal' is something now used affectionately. And insane sounds so cool. Egad. Excuse, its just me, the random bullshit-er.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why don't you ever look at me when I am talking to you?"&lt;br /&gt;"So you caught me."&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, but why? I am not that ugly, you know, nobody's got their cardiac arrested by merely looking at me, yet."&lt;br /&gt;"Geez. Its because I am afraid.."&lt;br /&gt;"Now I'm scary as well? So is it like scarily ugly or uglily scary?"&lt;br /&gt;"I am scared I won't be able to match up to the trust I see, or rather try to avoid, in your eyes."&lt;br /&gt;"If only you would look into my eyes for long enough, you would realise.."&lt;br /&gt;"Realise what?"&lt;br /&gt;"That they are dark brown."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-7345334914293755814?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/7345334914293755814/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=7345334914293755814&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7345334914293755814'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7345334914293755814'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/11/to-end-of-world-and-back.html' title='To the end of the world and back'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-6346613472888296736</id><published>2009-11-08T11:29:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-08T15:27:51.331+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Chikas'/><title type='text'>Update</title><content type='html'>1. So this OhmiGod-she's-so-cool senior dropped by, and I was all 'EEE'-ness but then the meeting wasn't exactly in the rosy surroundings I had intended it to be. My room was like the epitome of filth+mess with all kinds of ugly things ranging from my retainers to flowery undies(guess who!), strewn around in a not so tasteful manner. The only two embarrassing things my room was rid of were my two roomies, which are like &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;the&lt;/span&gt; most embarrassing, so thankyousomuchGod for that. And super-senior-woman, if you're reading this, please don't let yesterday's experience put you off visiting my room in the future, I promise I'll be neater, and that I'll throw all my roomies' stuff into the bin, next time I find it lying around without a proper sense of direction in their worthless unemaciated existence. Sigh. If only I could do the same with the two other occupants of this room who fall into the same category.&lt;br /&gt;*My roommates aren't that bad, they're pretty cute, in a way, take this as fiction, alrite!*&lt;br /&gt;2. I trusted you to not read my blog after I asked you not to. You broke it. You can expect to never be considered a friend again. I am sorry I don't forget easy.&lt;br /&gt;3. And if 'she' was getting distressed about the number of 'I love you's in the comments section of my previous post, I can't imagine her horror if she reads the messages in my inbox. Far more lovey dovey, far more scandalous. And yes, all girl friends. :) And no, it doesn't look gay to me. Its very very cute. So again, DQ and Lasha, and the rest(Uz,Am,Ra,Suey,Novocaine,DarkLord), sending you a large pitcher of hedonistaah-love, with a lifetime supply. Which reminds me, Uz, stop being so pissed with me and come back. Lets have a&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; running in slow motion through the yellow mustard fields, hugging and reuniting&lt;/span&gt; scene of our own. &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;4. And an unexpected mail. Which made me go all 'Aww'. EEE. I really don't deserve sweetness like you in my life.&lt;br /&gt;5. Most importantly, reconnected with somebody who was very very special to me at one point of time. Things had to sour and we had to move away without a proper bye. Thank you for coming back. Thank you so much. You have no idea how delighted I was, when I saw you obsessing over a guy and not 'it' like you used to. Maybe its still there, but I know its dying. You sound happy M, and that makes me super-duper-yabba-dabba-doo-ey happy. You're one very special woman, and very brave. I always looked up to you, admired you, and wanted to be like you. I still do. And when you grow up to be this superstar diva, I will tell people around me, you were my first best friend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-6346613472888296736?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/6346613472888296736/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=6346613472888296736&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/6346613472888296736'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/6346613472888296736'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/11/update.html' title='Update'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-1360701232586236092</id><published>2009-11-05T13:58:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-05T17:36:49.763+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><title type='text'>..And I don't need no Carryin' on..</title><content type='html'>Disturbed. Distressed. Tired. Tensed. Frustrated. Fed up. Misunderstood. At times. Mistaken. A lot. Messed up. More than I can clean up. More than I had expected. More than I can handle. An apology for an existence. Like a pebble lying inconspicuously on the road. A stone which does nothing but gather moss. And once in a while, in an uncanny rush of enthusiasm, tries to do something useful, and ends up causing an accident and getting kicked out of the way so that the world can resume its journey in peace. Me = Useless. Waste of space. And there will be no happy ending. Just a lot of 'crashing' and 'burning'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No expectations. No explanations. No clarifications. Everything has already spiralled way beyond control. Its time she learnt. To shut up. And start keeping her secrets. To herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The DQ raised a very good question yesterday. "Why do you hate it so much here?". To which I mumbled some rubbish about the city making me feel unwanted, and out-of-place. But the truth is, I have no answer. I do not know. Why am I such a freaked out psycho? Why am I such a whine? Why do I have an issue with everything? Why do I write such embarrassingly stupid stuff? &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;What&lt;/span&gt; exactly is my problem? I have no clue. Like The Dark Lord puts it, they don't teach us all that in JEE coaching classes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/yk_9sEhV3vM&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/yk_9sEhV3vM&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Help.&lt;i&gt; Please.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-1360701232586236092?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/1360701232586236092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=1360701232586236092&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1360701232586236092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1360701232586236092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/11/and-i-dont-need-no-carryin-on.html' title='..And I don&apos;t need no Carryin&apos; on..'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-4633506866437069922</id><published>2009-11-04T18:59:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-04T19:51:18.541+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Whine-Queen'/><title type='text'>Just another face in the crowd</title><content type='html'>Sometimes the seemingly most innocent and innocuous statements stimulate the extremest of reactions. I remember a friend writing to me, in a particularly sentimental letter about how once my saying "&lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;Khush raha kar&lt;/span&gt;" had touched her deeply. I remember thinking this wasn't what you would call the quintessential tear-jerker super-awesomely mushy statement which would get you all emotional, and definitely not one which you would expect people to remember you by. But as I now stood, clutching desperately onto the phone, with the familiar warm voice cooing 'Try and be happy, &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;beta'&lt;/span&gt;, I realised how much something like this affects you when you know how you are fighting your way through the day, the hour, the moment. How difficult it is to maintain a bright and cheery exterior when your insides are tearing away at every smile you fake. How it feels to fall down and have nobody's hand to pull you up, but your own. And how you try to survive solely on the distant hope that you'll be visiting home soon. Sheesh. 'Visiting home'. Going back home. Where I belong. And will always.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-4633506866437069922?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/4633506866437069922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=4633506866437069922&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4633506866437069922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4633506866437069922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/11/just-another-face-in-crowd.html' title='Just another face in the crowd'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-7695539557494844205</id><published>2009-11-03T19:13:00.009+05:30</published><updated>2009-11-03T20:37:06.569+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Four Letter Word'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fiction'/><title type='text'>Stupid Cupid.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/SvA5WbImAjI/AAAAAAAAAFc/H1d1S9VTUB8/s1600-h/angular_momentum.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 309px; height: 193px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/SvA5WbImAjI/AAAAAAAAAFc/H1d1S9VTUB8/s320/angular_momentum.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399879010620932658" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is it that on the day and at the time you're feeling your worst is when the one true crush of your life decides to suddenly and unexpectedly tap your shoulder all 'Hey'-ey as you're trudging along after a long tiring day with a bitter expression on your face, (why bitter? because you just tasted life). And then instead of a sweet charming 'Hi' all you can say is 'Yikes', while that pink thing inside your ribcage, which used to be as big as your right-hand but has now swollen to mammoth proportions, keeps going 'Yayayayay' all through. And then the rest of the way back home, you can't help but keep praying 'Oh God, please please please could I have been looking drop dead gorgeous', though you know this was the very day you had forgotten to comb your hair and were most definitely looking five months pregnant.&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - Its when you read Neil Nitin Mukesh as Nitin Jain, do your realise you're officially obsessed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/SvA6m24A-xI/AAAAAAAAAFk/kghoSjtK2JM/s1600-h/why_do_you_love_me.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 424px; height: 102px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/SvA6m24A-xI/AAAAAAAAAFk/kghoSjtK2JM/s320/why_do_you_love_me.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5399880392457124626" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-7695539557494844205?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/7695539557494844205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=7695539557494844205&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7695539557494844205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7695539557494844205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/11/stupid-cupid-fiction-fiction.html' title='Stupid Cupid.'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/SvA5WbImAjI/AAAAAAAAAFc/H1d1S9VTUB8/s72-c/angular_momentum.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-3837166674220088366</id><published>2009-10-30T21:02:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-31T02:51:23.315+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Cryptic'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FunnyIMHO'/><title type='text'>Comfortably Dumb</title><content type='html'>This blog was meant to be a medium of documenting my life around the JEE, its aftermath and its consequences. *Whoot, sounds like I was so mucho into JEE, which totally, and sadly, wasn't the case, but anyway*. A better option would have been writing a diary, you would say. But moi, the wannabe, born-into-the-limelight-and-can't-stay-away-from-it woman (Ha! 18 is so woman), would wilt away into upset-ness if she didn't have people knowing about it and commenting. So people here don't always give her the pleasure of the latter, but at least I know you guys read. Hopefully. And I obsessively compulsively confess everything anyway, so its not like I would have something on I could not put up here. Damn digression. The point was, me not treating the blog as a diary which me should have been doing. So, one tight keyboardslap to moi.&lt;br /&gt;And, back to business.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Get Thin Quick Scheme isn't working, and so I have given up sweets too. I had a Gulab Jamun today, which can be excused as I was really really depressed, with my room-mate leaving for her guardian's place, and so me=miss her so much. 3 days of missed breakfast, and 2 days of missed dinner, and no sweets on top of it, but no visible change yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something very terrible happened this week, but I won't blog about it, I have already told everybody I could, and I don't want a written memory of it. Now that I wrote this, its completely defeating the cause, but then its my blog. I do what I want. I have all the permission in the world to behave like a random-verbal-shit-retching maniac having a neurosis, and I know thats what I am doing now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The CHN class today was particularly entertaining with the guy demonstrating the Optical Microscope thingy going all: "Ang bang dang whooshtang foogang clearly, Dumastang wang wang goes in hair, clearly, Mang gang jang wang plang, hey you. is it clearly?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week has also seen me in pretty euphoric moods, which shouldn't have been the case, as a) terrible something aforementioned happened b)haven't got much work done c)got marks, which weren't much d)couldn't even qualify for the finals in the quiz yesterday. So yeah, despite all that its-just-not-my-day thing happening, I've been pretty okay, and not wallowing in self-pity like I normally do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I don't normally blog about very close friends, but this needs a mention, if its to be a proper diary, so, here goes, I have come into contact with 'dodgy doggie' aka 'pure evil', who is also pure adorability, who showed me what drugs look like. Not the pharmaceutical drugs, my sweets, but the real thing. The ones they show in movies and write about in novels. And before momsy and daddy, and close concerned friends and seniors get all disturbed about the company I am keeping, let me clarify we just found it lying inside the IIT campus, and before I could touch it, responsible 'pure evil' threw it away. But anyway, that checks one of the many many things in my to-do list of very unnecessary things. Remember Twilight? Edward had to not-very-willfully bite Bella, and consequently turned her into a vampire, in order to save her life. Now, pure evil is equally hesitant about me crossing over to the Dark Side. But a part of me knows I was always meant to be there. I could never handle the sun when I was young, I would get headaches/faint/throw random tantrums. Now I understand why. I was always The Devil's Own. And it took me 18 years and a chance meeting with Satanic Shadows to realise. Sheesh. Who let this doggie out?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cryptic much? And very un-me like. Whatever happened to the wannabe cheesy writer who wrote about happiness and sunshine and cottonwool and barbie dolls? It could be the still-awake-but-very-sleepy-at-2 am-ness catching up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With the arbitical-nonsense off my head, and into your computer screens now, I guess I have done my Bad Deed for The Day and can now peacefully sleep.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; Like we would say in gujju, 'Good night, fox'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - I still look for you in the multitude of students who trot out of the HUL class in the Seminar Hall every Wednesday at 4. And sometimes, I think I see you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Don't go looking for meanings, this was written in a very very morbid context, which could be a part of a 'fiction' piece I may never have the courage to put up, or even save.]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-3837166674220088366?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/3837166674220088366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=3837166674220088366&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/3837166674220088366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/3837166674220088366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/10/comfortably-dumb.html' title='Comfortably Dumb'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-8172701193734394419</id><published>2009-10-27T00:48:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-30T11:46:01.681+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Thousand Word Post</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Bathroom Rules&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/Sup9AzfpLFI/AAAAAAAAAFE/p_xxWkXp3IQ/s1600-h/27102009162.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/Sup9AzfpLFI/AAAAAAAAAFE/p_xxWkXp3IQ/s320/27102009162.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398264556133362770" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;By Moi and &lt;a href="http://abhilashak.blogspot.com/"&gt;Abhilasha&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*to&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; impress&lt;/span&gt; the BHM inspection committee.*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And you don't get to see the tears I cry..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/SuqDfj_LqtI/AAAAAAAAAFM/K3FdSVclS0k/s1600-h/25102009157.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/SuqDfj_LqtI/AAAAAAAAAFM/K3FdSVclS0k/s320/25102009157.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398271681616390866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;..Behind these Hazel Eyes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*My first charcoal painting. :D*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - Pictures say a thousand words, in case you feel I bluffed in the title. But nobody reads the title anyway, so bleh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-8172701193734394419?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/8172701193734394419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=8172701193734394419&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8172701193734394419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8172701193734394419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/10/thousand-word-post.html' title='Thousand Word Post'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/Sup9AzfpLFI/AAAAAAAAAFE/p_xxWkXp3IQ/s72-c/27102009162.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-6242552946435485391</id><published>2009-10-23T13:31:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-23T13:59:23.123+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FunnyIMHO'/><title type='text'>Of Earthquakes, Fat-ness, My Roomie and other Scary Things</title><content type='html'>Its official. &lt;a href="http://edition.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/asiapcf/10/22/afghanistan.quake/"&gt;There was an earthquake last night&lt;/a&gt;. I, obviously, couldn't feel it. [There are few things which can distance me and my food, and me and my sleep. Slob, yes.] But my roommates were nice enough to wake me up as they ran. Now, I, having experienced the 2001 Gujarat earthquake, and all the aftershocks that came with it, get totally jittery and panicky with the quake thing. Plus, waking up to screams and the sound of people running, is very very scary. So when everybody collected, all excited and chatty, in my wing, me and my roommate(thankfully as much of a sissy as I am) stood holding hands, and shaking so much like the quake was still on.&lt;br /&gt;After the whole tujhe-feel-hua?-mujhe-feel-hua! gossip, we returned to bed, almost on the verge of crying. And the third roommate with her weird morbid ideas of 'when death has to come, it will' and 'why are you scared of death, its an experience' did nothing to help our cause.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But then its Himadri, right? And there is something to smile about whatever the case.[Touchwood]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girl 1: "I felt it. It was very very strong. Severe enough to wake me up from sleep, and guess what I woke up to, the cupboard swinging violently!"&lt;br /&gt;Me and Roommate: *shudder*&lt;br /&gt;Rest of the girls: :O :O :O "Hawwwww".&lt;br /&gt;Girl 2 *apparently embarrassed at being one-upped in sensitivity*:" I felt it too. I woke up too."&lt;br /&gt;Me and Roommate: *shudder*&lt;br /&gt;Girl 3 *You should know who she is*: "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Yaar, mujhe to feel nahi hua&lt;/span&gt;. I was sitting here filing my nails, they haven't even fallen, see see."&lt;br /&gt;Me and Roommate: *shudder*&lt;br /&gt;Girl 1 *trying to steal the thunder back*: "But we were in the room opposite to yours, how come we felt it and you didn't?"&lt;br /&gt;Me and Roommate: *shudder*&lt;br /&gt;Girl 3: "Arey there is something about epicentres na. Your room could have been one!". &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And she was totally serious, it was incredible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: *tries to catch people laughing*&lt;br /&gt;Me: *tires of searching in vain*&lt;br /&gt;Me: *goes back to shuddering with The Roommate*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In further news(:D), like you might already have noticed, I am bursting at the seams. And so, after pensive introspection, I have decided to give up rice. And have been pretty much successful. No rice lunch-dinner-yesterday and lunch-today. But I kinda more than made up for it, and totally defeated the effort, by having 5 &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jalebis&lt;/span&gt; for dessert. F-I-V-E &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Jalebis&lt;/span&gt;. There was a time, the very sight of those made me puke-y. IIT has made a monster out of me. I was the &lt;span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"&gt;thin&lt;/span&gt; girl. People used to look at me and go *sigh*.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; But then. Times change. People change. I just never thought it could have this 'getting wider' connotation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a parting comment, I leave you with something very insightful my roomie had to say yesterday. My roomie and insightful are not even in the same zip code, and this was one of those rare 'Eureka' moments, so do give it the attention and astute appreciation it deserves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The President of the United States? I know I know. Hold on. Um...Obama Bin Laden?! Haina Haina??"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/Hds3jvjZY-Y&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/Hds3jvjZY-Y&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-6242552946435485391?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/6242552946435485391/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=6242552946435485391&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/6242552946435485391'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/6242552946435485391'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/10/of-earthquakes-fat-ness-my-roomie-and.html' title='Of Earthquakes, Fat-ness, My Roomie and other Scary Things'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-806876264750280282</id><published>2009-10-20T18:57:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-20T18:58:36.899+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Urgent</title><content type='html'>You need to read &lt;a href="http://india-in-my-nightie.blogspot.com/2009/10/two-persons-hurt-in-climbing-mishap.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;, right now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-806876264750280282?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/806876264750280282/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=806876264750280282&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/806876264750280282'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/806876264750280282'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/10/urgent.html' title='Urgent'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-4285116159420820218</id><published>2009-10-16T23:22:00.009+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-22T13:46:05.282+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fiction'/><title type='text'>Once upon a time...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="center"&gt; &lt;/div&gt;..I wrote weird emo poetry(if you can call it that by some stretch of imagination, that is).&lt;br /&gt;Pretty old. 2006. So, pretty much, a slice of history.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Fragmentation&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://th05.deviantart.net/fs27/300W/f/2008/125/2/b/Sad_Angel_by_lady_nightstalker.png"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 243px; height: 221px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://th05.deviantart.net/fs27/300W/f/2008/125/2/b/Sad_Angel_by_lady_nightstalker.png" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;No need for epic ballads&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;of promises contrite,&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;when all you feel&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;is apathy at my plight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't have to disintegrate&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;inch-by-inch at your sight, &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;when my own parchment skin&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;writes suicide notes every night.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;Counting Days&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0HJ191Gsfqw/STGG7QVQzBI/AAAAAAAAEMw/_ovkSIWXEBY/s400/art,photography,sad,snow,umbrella,inspiration,polaroid-077c02cc5af673f94aff4a5f59ecfe6d_h.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 234px; height: 309px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0HJ191Gsfqw/STGG7QVQzBI/AAAAAAAAEMw/_ovkSIWXEBY/s400/art,photography,sad,snow,umbrella,inspiration,polaroid-077c02cc5af673f94aff4a5f59ecfe6d_h.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div align="center"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;till&lt;br /&gt;your july eyes&lt;br /&gt;will sail me ashore&lt;br /&gt;&amp;amp; snow-flakes of doubt&lt;br /&gt;will fall on me&lt;br /&gt;no more...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/Sti1-v0d72I/AAAAAAAAAEU/vR9eR5P1vL0/s1600-h/wd.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393260643369217890" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 237px; height: 251px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/Sti1-v0d72I/AAAAAAAAAEU/vR9eR5P1vL0/s320/wd.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; alone, you remained-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;your cloaked paradise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;but every time it rained&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;i knew,'twas you:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;in disguise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/Sti0-nwSZnI/AAAAAAAAAEM/35lG5VAJFmU/s1600-h/wd.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/Stiz2sFRZDI/AAAAAAAAAEE/RbJYRw2w9DQ/s1600-h/wb.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5393258305903748146" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 240px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/Stiz2sFRZDI/AAAAAAAAAEE/RbJYRw2w9DQ/s320/wb.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ink-stains have faded,&lt;br /&gt;the soul still remains&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;smudged.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;lying crumpled in waste-bins&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;these memories&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;untouched.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;***&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;PS - Why do I label most of the stuff I write as 'random'?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDIT: Second reading makes me realise how shitty it was. I mean, this is the stuff I normally laugh at, not just because its emo and wannabe dark, but also because, its just so shitty. Don't read, pretty please. And how 'intellectual' of me to put it right at the end of the post. But then if I have it as the title, it'll be reason more so for people to read, so um, just to let you know, I agree with your opinion on this post, and you can save the tomatoes for later. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-4285116159420820218?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/4285116159420820218/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=4285116159420820218&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4285116159420820218'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4285116159420820218'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/10/once-upon-time.html' title='Once upon a time...'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_0HJ191Gsfqw/STGG7QVQzBI/AAAAAAAAEMw/_ovkSIWXEBY/s72-c/art,photography,sad,snow,umbrella,inspiration,polaroid-077c02cc5af673f94aff4a5f59ecfe6d_h.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-3218874059926479985</id><published>2009-10-15T18:48:00.006+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-15T21:59:44.902+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Four Letter Word'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fiction'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Bad piece, I know. I just had to write &lt;em&gt;some&lt;/em&gt;thing today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Venturing into forbidden territories was like her forte. And the hyperboloidal paraboloid roof above Dogra Hall was her most favourite place in the whole world. And standing there with her most favourite person in the world trying not to explode into one million pieces at what she knew was going to follow, was the most difficult thing she had done in a long long time. Tougher than learning those mammoth reactions. Tougher than integral calculus. And applied mechanics.&lt;br /&gt;"I wait. Everyday. For a call which wouldn't be a call back. For a message which wouldn't be a reply."&lt;br /&gt;"I like doing that."&lt;br /&gt;"Cheap thrill?"&lt;br /&gt;"No, I like making people wait."&lt;br /&gt;"I could just jump off, and then you would have to wait. For eternity. In vain."&lt;br /&gt;"Was that a threat?"&lt;br /&gt;"You think I would kill myself for you?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, sorry, I know you won't."&lt;br /&gt;"I just could."&lt;br /&gt;"You don't mean it."&lt;br /&gt;"I don't."&lt;br /&gt;"Get lost!"&lt;br /&gt;"Just because I won't die for you?"&lt;br /&gt;"Maybe."&lt;br /&gt;"Alright, I understand, you love me so much you want me to die."&lt;br /&gt;"You don't get it!"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh yes, you and your sad old ideas of romance. And I am supposed to be the girl."&lt;br /&gt;"..."&lt;br /&gt;"Stop staring into space, say something!"&lt;br /&gt;"How can you switch between hot and cold that swiftly?"&lt;br /&gt;"Newton's Law of Cooling states that the rate of change of the temperature of an object is proportional to the difference between its own temperature and the ambient temperature."&lt;br /&gt;"You've lost your sense of humor."&lt;br /&gt;"Like I've lost you."&lt;br /&gt;"What is that supposed to mean?"&lt;br /&gt;"You know it all, pretty damned well."&lt;br /&gt;"Don't complicate things."&lt;br /&gt;"Don't run away."&lt;br /&gt;"Am not going anywhere."&lt;br /&gt;"I wish you weren't."&lt;br /&gt;"..."&lt;br /&gt;"You know what I say about relationships. They don't end, they just evolve..."&lt;br /&gt;"..into silences."&lt;br /&gt;"Into silences."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-3218874059926479985?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/3218874059926479985/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=3218874059926479985&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/3218874059926479985'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/3218874059926479985'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/10/bad-piece-i-know.html' title=''/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-4882900821944610206</id><published>2009-10-10T13:41:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-11T13:20:28.945+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Whine-Queen'/><title type='text'>An 'Inconvenient' Truth</title><content type='html'>You know you are having a bad day when...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/StBB8cJkHoI/AAAAAAAAAC8/WkGbhPkMnF4/s1600-h/08102009151.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390881260566748802" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/StBB8cJkHoI/AAAAAAAAAC8/WkGbhPkMnF4/s320/08102009151.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-4882900821944610206?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/4882900821944610206/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=4882900821944610206&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4882900821944610206'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4882900821944610206'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/10/inconvenient-truth.html' title='An &apos;Inconvenient&apos; Truth'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/StBB8cJkHoI/AAAAAAAAAC8/WkGbhPkMnF4/s72-c/08102009151.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-4366393837378919566</id><published>2009-10-04T16:44:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-10-04T16:45:10.373+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Whine-Queen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>From Bad to Worse</title><content type='html'>Self-Obsessing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# The movie 'Koi Mil Gaya' and the whole alien thing scared the hell out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# Virtually everything scares the hell out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# I hate running, but not because of the fear of sweat, or physical exertion, but because am scared I would fall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# The "smell" of deos make me pukey. I can't stand (or stand next to) people who use them. Smelling all soapy and fresh is nice, but deos are total bleh-ness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# I hate it when people write "ya" when they mean "yeah".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# Bad english totally turns me off. I almost had a crush on this guy once, but just in time, he went all "It is written on the behind of the book.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# Sometimes I listen to loud music just to shut the voices in my head.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# I want to run away all the time, wherever I may be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# I like, okay, not like maybe, but I prefer being alone and quiet in the dark. It both fascinates and scares the hell out of me, but i still do it, its therapy when i am in of those 'intermediate' phases, when there is something stuck between normalcy and full-on depression, like a knot in the chest, with me having no idea why. It pushes me to hardcore upset-ness, and then I can cry it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# I often wonder if  'cutting' is a form of penitence or is it a sin in itself?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# Why do we try to gain acceptance from the people who snub us most?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# I have, lately, failed to live up to my expectations of myself. And its not just academics am talking about. Its about me, the person, the good girl, or is she anymore? I hate the grown up me. I have turned so evil. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sheesh. I wonder if I should publish it or just let it be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-4366393837378919566?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/4366393837378919566/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=4366393837378919566&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4366393837378919566'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4366393837378919566'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/10/from-bad-to-worse_04.html' title='From Bad to Worse'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-8736364813221478782</id><published>2009-09-15T17:15:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-15T17:49:20.619+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Four Letter Word'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><title type='text'>When IIT turns into ITI...</title><content type='html'>1. "Prof. S. Arun Kumar is one of the toppest engineers in the world" - 2009CS10***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. History of catalysis. Being shown pictures of great 'catalytic' scientists.&lt;br /&gt;Roomie: "Stud &lt;em&gt;lag raha hai yaar&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;Me: "&lt;em&gt;Shaadi kar le&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;Roomie: "&lt;em&gt;Mar gaya hai, pagal,&lt;/em&gt; year of death &lt;em&gt;toh dekh&lt;/em&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Me: "You don't know SHUBHAM TULSIANI?!?!?!?!"&lt;br /&gt;Roomie: "&lt;em&gt;Kon hai? Kisi ka&lt;/em&gt; boyfriend?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh. RIP AIR 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;.&lt;  &gt;.&lt;  &gt;.&lt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-8736364813221478782?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/8736364813221478782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=8736364813221478782&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8736364813221478782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8736364813221478782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/09/when-iit-turns-into-iti.html' title='When IIT turns into ITI...'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-5930086019598548283</id><published>2009-09-10T02:17:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-11T11:56:06.865+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FunnyIMHO'/><title type='text'>This Past Week...</title><content type='html'>Sweetest thing someone said to me : "You're my latest obsession." :D&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;Wittiest wisecrack:&lt;br /&gt;Me - "...but the point is..."&lt;br /&gt;AIR 1**: "That you don't have one"&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;"What is the course for this is new knowledge for you?" - Feedback form, CYP100&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;"Cancer sucks"&lt;br /&gt;"Smoking makes you suck"&lt;br /&gt;                                           - &lt;em&gt;Ingenious &lt;/em&gt;slogans from the poster-making event, courtesy NSS, IITD&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;And oh, something I heard - "There are two girls in the mechanical department of IITD, and people are still trying to figure out who they are..."&lt;br /&gt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---&gt; HIGHLY RECOMMENDED &lt;---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/3vj5QUGApnU&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/3vj5QUGApnU&amp;hl=en&amp;fs=1&amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-5930086019598548283?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/5930086019598548283/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=5930086019598548283&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/5930086019598548283'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/5930086019598548283'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/09/this-past-week.html' title='This Past Week...'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-6446299201979769777</id><published>2009-09-08T03:45:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-09-08T03:50:21.687+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>For The Sake of It</title><content type='html'>Around 4 in the morning, and I don't intend to sleep, no, not yet. My first night-out, wheeeeeeeeee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Double wheeeeeeeeeeee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wheeeeeeeeeee squared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And and, she needs advice. Or maybe she should just learn to take her decisions herself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And she needs to stop being such a 'compulsive confessor'. Or not. Whatchathink?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-6446299201979769777?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/6446299201979769777/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=6446299201979769777&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/6446299201979769777'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/6446299201979769777'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/09/for-sake-of-it.html' title='For The Sake of It'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-5341181917170701222</id><published>2009-08-27T13:45:00.007+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-30T18:49:41.329+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gaana'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FunnyIMHO'/><title type='text'>This and That</title><content type='html'>Overheard:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"These experiments were &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;carried away&lt;/span&gt; by..." - in a CHN lecture, spoken by, ahem, our lecturer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Aniline kiska test de raha hai? Amine ka?" - in CYP100&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Mera cyclohexane to koi functional group ka test nahi de raha, ma'm!!" - in CYP100&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Is Benzamide testing positive for amide?"&lt;br /&gt;"Amide? Wo kaha check karna hai? Am testing it for urea" - Yeah. Again. CYP100. Do all those chemicals do something to our brain?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Tum bhi Kanpur se ho na, sahi hote hain Kanpur ke log tumhari TA bhi Kanpur se hai, usne N2O6 isolate kiya hai, aur tumse aniline ka test nahi ho raha" - The prof, to me. (CYP100)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ye ladki hote huye bhi tumse kitna achha kaam karti hai" - MEL110, the ladki in question being me. My respect for the prof went down a couple of notches. "Ladki hote hue bhi" means what...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yaar, Informals mein please Nitin Jain ko bula le, please please please, main kuch bhi karungi, puri zindagi tere slave banke rahungi"&lt;br /&gt;"Itna kya obsessed ho? JEE AIR 1 hi to hai!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Wahi to. Sirf AIR 1. Bas. Tuchha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;***&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You forgot her birthday. She isn't in crush anymore. Period.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And two people she thought would, did not call her at 12, she was very very disappointed. :( wala.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;PS - Change of plan. No restricted access, yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/FTaPVlyEQc8&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/FTaPVlyEQc8&amp;amp;hl=en&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-5341181917170701222?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/5341181917170701222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=5341181917170701222&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/5341181917170701222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/5341181917170701222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/08/this-and-that.html' title='This and That'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-1032591428524546134</id><published>2009-08-22T23:31:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-22T23:38:57.878+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Please don't lie to me. It breaks my heart.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 1: Birthday Wednesday. Credit cards accepted, cash preferred. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note 2: I am now going to restrict readers for this blog. If any of you wish to continue reading, please let me know your Google account ID so that I can allow access. Thank You.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-1032591428524546134?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/1032591428524546134/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=1032591428524546134&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1032591428524546134'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1032591428524546134'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/08/please-dont-lie-to-me.html' title=''/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-8468677724064576348</id><published>2009-08-19T20:48:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-20T12:47:04.150+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Whine-Queen'/><title type='text'>The girl who hated chocolate.</title><content type='html'>Once upon a time, there was a girl. She was a happy child. Pretty much most of the time. She cried only when she had to visit the doctor. Then she grew up, came to the eleventh standard. IIT happened. She went to college. The people around her were nice. But she wasn't happy. She knew she had no proper reason for it. She knew she was insulting all the good things in her life by being a whine. She knew what upset her were all very trivial things. Somebody in her hostel lying to her is actually a joke when there's terrorism and poverty and insane stuff like that. She knew. She knew she should be very grateful for what she had. But at that point of time, a week before her eighteenth birthday, nothing else mattered. Her birthday had always been her most favourite time of the year. She would wait for the day all year round. And the whole eighteenth thing made it extra special. She had wanted it to be big. Maybe even small, just, &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;special&lt;/span&gt;. It was her eighteenth, for Godssake. She would be entering adulthood. Would not have made much of a difference, she still wouldn't drive, she couldn't have voted for the next 4 years, and she already watched adult movies. Still, &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;eighteenth&lt;/span&gt;. EIGHTEENTH.&lt;br /&gt;In a weird place. With weird people. Half of whom would not even know its her birthday. Almost the whole batch would wish her in school. Now it was college. Stoopid snooty college. Away from her parents. And her three best friends in the whole world.&lt;br /&gt;She feared it would be...boring. Or worse, sad. The girl, she always hated chocolate. But now, she wanted some. Its good if you're depressed, or so she had heard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She doesn't want comments on this post. She doesn't want to talk to anybody. If she doesn't reply to your messages/calls/mails, please excuse her. She's just not in the right frame of mind. She is screwed up, pretty much. And the whole idea of having a sorry birthday doesn't appeal to her. Which is making her :( - er.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[She did not even laugh when somebody called "chilled_****2004" messaged her.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She knows everybody is going to find this supremely 'immature' or 'childish' or 'plain stupid'. Maybe she will too, in time. But for now, No comments, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[Not a lot of people comment anyway, but whatever.]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - She is scared of sounding silly. And vulnerable. And stupid. And of losing the only confidante she has in here. Or maybe she already has. She is such a chep. She's a crazy crazy girl. Maybe she deserves what she's getting. And now she's rambling. And praying nobody reads this. She could just choose to not publish it. But she will. Somebody told her to not care too much about what other people think. But she's now scared of what 'somebody' might think. If he reads. An event she doesn't think will happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geez. She's a total mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And writing it all out did not make her feel any better. Like she thought it would.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:(&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-8468677724064576348?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/8468677724064576348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=8468677724064576348&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8468677724064576348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8468677724064576348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/08/girl-who-hated-chocolate.html' title='The girl who hated chocolate.'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-3816669551158346060</id><published>2009-08-14T16:04:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-16T01:46:22.942+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Whine-Queen'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Blah, blah and more blahs.</title><content type='html'>&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had this conversation a lot of times this past fortnight:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Random Person In Hostel: Are you an only child?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Yeah. Howdyuknow?&lt;br /&gt;Random Person In Hostel: You look all cute, and you know, pampered.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Uh, um, is that a good thing? Looking pampered?&lt;br /&gt;Random Person In Hostel: Haha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hear one, hear all. When I ask you a question, I want an answer. Do NOT Laugh, and if am talking to you online, do not LOL or :) or :D or anyfunnystuff like that. Because maybe I look like a kid(Yes, I have been told that by 3126 people in the insti. And its been just 4 weeks. Imagine!) and thus you might be compelled to take all my questions in jest, but I actually, totally, am serious all the time(mostly), and I HAAAAATE being called a kid, I've had enough, please. I mean it. I am turning 18 in 11 days. Please? PLEASE?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I've come home, Mum-Dad are like, 'Kitni patli ho gayi!!'. Which makes me thing exactly how fat I was earlier. Geez.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do you need to tell somebody you love them? Why can't they just...understand?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get terribly awkward and embarrassed at times, and I've been asked, by my *having-our-best-interests-at-heart* seniors, to not look at seniors so much while walking around the insti, and guess who do I turn to in times of such solid distress. My Cell phone! So the next time you see me busy typing furiously on my cell, don't think am messaging, am just locking and unlocking the keypad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something I've been noticing over the past few months(years?) is that people don't usually reply when you say Sorry. Another funny thing is that they say 'Its okay' when you say Thank You. Not that its wrong, but really, its been like one hundred fifty seven days since anybody said 'Welcome' or 'My pleasure' to me. And there was this guy in my chem lab class who went all 'Its alright. Don't mind. My pleasure. No problem' when I said Thank You for having borrowed his pen. Gives an entirely new definition to etiquette. Or maybe its just over-enthu? He must have been from the Aravali hostel, their chant goes 'Ara ka enthu high hai'. *Starts fiddling with her cell*. Ok, I understand its not funny. This point was totally random, but its 1 am at night, what else do you expect?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realised when I'm really really happy, I sing. And sing really well, or so I would like to believe. And your opinion on this issue is so not solicited. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am neck-deep in shit. Work, I mean. Work = Shit, pretty much. And the weekend is going to be over soon. Monday ko professors ko kya muh dikhaungi? :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ra, sweetheart, am sorry, okay? I'll make it up to you. Which reminds me, I have a lot of making up to do, to lots of people. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sigh. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-3816669551158346060?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/3816669551158346060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=3816669551158346060&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/3816669551158346060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/3816669551158346060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/08/blah-blah-and-more-blahs.html' title='Blah, blah and more blahs.'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-5211514266116069832</id><published>2009-08-09T11:52:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-09T11:54:43.362+05:30</updated><title type='text'>*From The Archives*</title><content type='html'>"You dont trust me?" He asked.&lt;br /&gt;"Not as much as I would come to, eventually."&lt;br /&gt;The Great Dodge again, he hated 'Her Sly-ness' as much as he loved her, yet was awed again and again by her remarkable way with words. Who knows, one day, maybe he would learn to speak like her. If not him, at least their kids would. At this thought, he said a silent prayer. Of having kids, who were just like her, of being together, long enough to have their own..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Like everything else, this chapter will end too," she sighed. He tried to scan her voice to decipher whether she was grieved or relieved at the thought. With her, one would never know. She would state things, not say them. The evening I saw her last, sunshine gleamed through her eyes. For once, in 2 years of knowing her, did I actually see her going ballistic with joy. She knew what was to come, but she wasn't scared. She gave the impression of being a woman in control, of being completely independent and self-assured. The kinds who would take offence if you offered to pay her bills, or open doors for her. She pretended to throw a little tantrum too, each time he put a display of his betraying-his-upbringing chivalry. But he knew, how she loved it. How she concealed her blushing smile beneath oodles of pseudo-anger.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-5211514266116069832?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/5211514266116069832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=5211514266116069832&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/5211514266116069832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/5211514266116069832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/08/from-archives.html' title='*From The Archives*'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-1410136870898831623</id><published>2009-08-07T18:17:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-08T10:46:07.531+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='The Four Letter Word'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><title type='text'>In The Last Few Days...</title><content type='html'>* I have been called Shachi, Shuchi, Deepshikha, Shalini, Shanti, Shruvi, Shubhi, and, hold your breath...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Prof: "I remember the names of only two people in this class. Aniruddh, and Sushi."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sushi. Yes, that Japanese delicacy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I have become numb-to-the-dumb. I did not even laugh at this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hostel-mate: "Itna to courage hona chahiye, yaar, batch rep mein, you should have some gut feeling, you know."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I have eaten out almost e-v-e-r-y-d-a-y. Am turning out to be such a Paris Hilton. Toned down, of course.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I have been smiling in my sleep. Guess why. *wink wink, nudge nudge*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I have been smiling waking too. Touchwood.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* But this weekend, and truckloads of work to be done, will do its best to snatch my smile. But I'll fight, I'll give it my best shot. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Love Aajkal. Mission Accomplished. Literally, and otherwise. Go figure. :P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;EDIT ( 8-Aug-09) : Gaya smile. Khush ho gaye tum?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-1410136870898831623?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/1410136870898831623/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=1410136870898831623&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1410136870898831623'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1410136870898831623'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/08/in-last-few-days.html' title='In The Last Few Days...'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-6421149080033445397</id><published>2009-08-03T21:11:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-03T21:36:58.848+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Delhi Diaries'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gyaan Guru'/><title type='text'>Delhi Diaries: The Gyaan Guru Speaks</title><content type='html'>#Never go walking anywhere in Delhi.  The supposed 'pavement' has a number of surprises in store for you, including puddles and potholes. Plus, a lot of drivers get their kicks by zooming an inch past you even when the whole road is available.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#Don't drink 'thandi lassi' at dodgy outlets even if you feel you are near-death. Trust me, a throat on fire is the last thing you want when you've already burnt the last calorie in your body.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#Don't go shopping at places where you think you'll get stuff cheap. The only cheapos you come across are people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#The 'Excuse Me' culture doesn't work here. They'll just push you out of their way. Gives a whole new dimension to the adage 'Creating your own opportunities'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#Staring back at people who stare at you doesn't help. They'll just stare harder. And will also probably like it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#The Autowallahs are the sweetest people. Usually 'Happy to Help'. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;# Don't drink Lassi, 2 glasses of Pepsi, and Orange juice one after the other. You may be very thirsty, but your tummy exploding is not a nice feeling at all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This post was written after a particularly excruciating and fruitless trip to Ber Sarai. If I sound uber-pissed, its probably because I am.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-6421149080033445397?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/6421149080033445397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=6421149080033445397&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/6421149080033445397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/6421149080033445397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/08/delhi-diaries-gyaan-guru-speaks.html' title='Delhi Diaries: The Gyaan Guru Speaks'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-1123611587994629376</id><published>2009-08-02T18:16:00.012+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-02T20:19:47.611+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='My Chikas'/><title type='text'>The Three Mistakes of My Life</title><content type='html'>*Strictly in alphabetical order*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amrita: I was introduced to her by Kiran Ma'm(our Hindi teacher) when I had changed schools and wanted someone to take notes(copy Q&amp;amp;A) from. My Hindi was as crude as it could get, and hers was, well, Sanskrit. The only words I understood were '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hai&lt;/span&gt;' and '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;tha&lt;/span&gt;' and '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kya&lt;/span&gt;' and '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;kyun&lt;/span&gt;'. But she helped me learn. I always depended on her for Hindi. I remember her dictating answers to me on the phone, patiently, benevolently. I remember her laughing when I told her I'd written 'Vara' as the feminine word for 'Var' in our Hindi test. I remember her laughing even more when I cribbed it wasn't given anywhere in the textbook. And ha, I pipped her in Hindi in the tenth boards, I got 96, and she got 95. Yet, 95 out of the 96 marks I got, are unquestionably accreditted to her. I remember talking to her on the phone on the day the tenth board results were declared. I remember both of us being super-scared of failing. I remember she was still on the phone when the CBSE website(late by 8 minutes) finally updated. And I remember us having the same total. 576/600. The one result in my life I'll always cherish. And who better a person to share the utter bliss with. I remember eleventh and twelfth, and its trials and tribulations. I remember the stupid jokes we cracked, and still could never stop laughing at. I remember us crying together on your birthday, you consoling me. I could never. You refused to be "consoled". I remember you yelling 'molestation'. When somebody stared. :|. I remember holding hands when test papers would be distributed. I remember cuddling up in class, sitting so close the teachers thought we were gay. You always knew the best thing to do in a given situation. I always always always looked up to you. You knew me inside out. You would know why I buried myself inside my bag in class. You would know when I was going to cry. Sometimes the most trivial of things hurt me, and you knew every one of them. You knew of all the times I'd wronged, but you never judged me for them. One of your many qualities I hope to emulate. I never told you I love you, I know both of us are a little edgy with PDA, but I know you know. And I know you'll accept it. And me. Without question. Forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rashi: The Princess of Poise. The Propah one. With not a single hairstrand out of place. The only other person(the other being me, of course :P) in our group(of diplomacy queens) who would speak her mind. And that's why we had a lot of arguments in our first year together. And that's why we never had any grudges. Because we always said what we felt. Coming back to the point, the proper girl who always knew how to control her words and her voice, unlike me who would yap around in my very screech-y voice. I remember my fun-est day this summer. The day we spent doing a lot of illegal things, the sales lady knocking on the changing room doors when we were locked in, rather gleefully, for one and a half hours, I remember me saying the dress isn't coming off, them laughing, us laughing, at entirely different things, of course. Trying to look all normal in front of the guards. And how we scampered off as soon as we were out of his sight, and reach. I have seen you stand brave. I have seen you smile in duress. And I have learnt. Courage. *And also poise, I can never miss that word when I talk about you* You would do anything for the people you love, and you know how to make them feel special. You would shut me up when I would, as usual, be letting on more than I should in front of the wrong people. You have, unknowingly, protected me from a lot of image-damage, if I may say so. :D. And I'll always be grateful to you for that. And for a lot more things. Maybe this writeup is relatively shorter, but one thing's for sure, without you in my life, I would be much more crappier than I already am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ujjwala: The constant butt of all my jokes. You have, unintentionally given us a lot of comic relief in these last two pretty stressful years. And you still continue to. Like Now. And maybe the fact that you never mind is maybe the best thing about you. Or not. You're like the storehouse of virtues. Public Confession: She made me study, whatever little I did. If it weren't for her, I would probably be in Polytechnic somewhere or something like that. She would be the one I would call up and whine when I had done nothing the whole day with an exam the day after. It was like our ritual. Before e.v.e.r.y. exam. And she would unfailingly try and make me feel better, even when there was nothing to feel better about. I looked up to her. She was the sensible serious child. Who would 'feel guilty' if she watched TV for ten minutes on Diwali. Now, that was like the other end of the spectrum, but it was her I wanted to be like. Super hardworking. And I am still trying. But she left me in favour of IITK. :(. I was the rebel. She was the conservationalist. Somewhere in our two years together, I guess we moderated each other. She's the one who's never afraid of asking questions. Of sounding stupid. Again, something I want to learn from her. I remember her goofy toothy grin. And I am dying to watch her laugh again. I remember talking late into the night with her. Like proper 2 o clock late. Before the JEE results. Before the XII results. I remember sharing fears. Dedicating songs. Disclosing secrets. Whatever little I had. Dreaming up perfect love stories together. Our common love for books/movies. Of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;those&lt;/span&gt; kind. Celebrating when Mia chose Michael. Singing aloud, badly. Laughing at '&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Intregation&lt;/span&gt;'. Laughing at everything. Laughing at nothing in particular. The Zoya Factor. Yawning in mechanics together. The Capacitance class we both slept in, because of the sleepover the day before *in which nobody slept*. And four months of not knowing what capacitors are all about. Cribbing about rotation. And life in general.&lt;br /&gt;I really hope things materialise between the Asscoordi(!) and you, 'cause when you're happy, I'm happy. :P&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-1123611587994629376?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/1123611587994629376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=1123611587994629376&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1123611587994629376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1123611587994629376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/08/three-mistakes-of-my-life.html' title='The Three Mistakes of My Life'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-8286764292986011153</id><published>2009-07-29T20:19:00.008+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-30T20:02:21.618+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Whine-Queen'/><title type='text'>How The Hedonistaah Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life</title><content type='html'>Well, that was kind of on the agenda for college, but things aren't going as per plan, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;whats new?&lt;/span&gt; I am not exactly having 'the time of my life'. I study because I have nothing else to do. How pathetic is that?&lt;br /&gt;They say you learn all of life's best lessons in college, I agree. I have learnt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; To wash clothes.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; To coexist whine-less-ly with creatures having more than 3 pairs of legs.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; To survive with a 5 hour sleep, rice for lunch and dinner, and no breakfast.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; To get my own glasses of water.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; To sleep with people who sound the 'Extreme' alarm on your 'Gross-o-meter'.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; The pros and cons of giving into those guilty pleasures. Actually just the cons.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; To stop cribbing. *Eh, what am I doing now?*&lt;br /&gt;&gt; To use stinky loos housing beauties which served as extras in 'the Exorcist'.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; To wear  clothes inside the shower, which is exactly 1 square foot in area.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; To overcome my dettol-addiction.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; How it feels to be snapped at. *No, its not somebody in campus*.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; What Charlie Chaplin meant by "I love walking in the rain, 'cause noone knows I'm crying".&lt;br /&gt;&gt; There's no place like home. I always believed so, but now the faith is like Reinforced Cement Concrete.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; That I can be super-pseudo when I want to. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Bad bad girl.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt; That I can be super-selfish, super-irritating, super-bugging, esp. to this one super-nice guy, if you're reading it, which I hope you are, I am terribly sorry, for the millionth time. Your the first person I completely adored in here, and I have a hunch you'll be the last.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; Nobody fusses over you the way your parents do.&lt;br /&gt;&gt; To stop being so hopeful. It doesn't help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You three, you know who you are, I'll always love you mostest, and the more I see the people here, the more I miss you. Its called the Theory of Relativity. ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS - And again, you three, don't get all scared and call me up after you read this. I am not suicidal, not yet.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-8286764292986011153?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/8286764292986011153/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=8286764292986011153&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8286764292986011153'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8286764292986011153'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/07/how-hedonistaah-got-kissed-got-wild-and.html' title='How The Hedonistaah Got Kissed, Got Wild, and Got a Life'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-1817538773405656341</id><published>2009-07-08T16:55:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-08T16:57:58.751+05:30</updated><title type='text'>Double Post Today. Am I in a good mood or am I in a good mood?</title><content type='html'>Molly: Perry, no one’s pure evil! I mean, yeah, some people have a hard outer shell, but inside, everybody has a creamy center.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Cox: There are plenty of people here on this particular planet who are hard on the outside and hard on the inside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Molly: So they’d have more of a nougaty center?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dr. Cox: Lady, people aren’t chocolates. D’you know what they are mostly? Bastards. Bastard-coated bastards with bastard filling. But I don’t find them half as annoying as I find naive bubble-headed optimists who walk around vomiting sunshine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ref: The TV show Scrubs&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-1817538773405656341?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/1817538773405656341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=1817538773405656341&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1817538773405656341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1817538773405656341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/07/doube-post-today-am-i-in-good-mood-or.html' title='Double Post Today. Am I in a good mood or am I in a good mood?'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-5240656105780805986</id><published>2009-07-08T14:01:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-07-08T14:03:26.477+05:30</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I- DON'T - CARE! ", yelled Harry,snatching up a lunascope and throwing it into the fireplace. "I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANYMORE- "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You do care', said Dumbledore . He had not flinched nor made a single move to stop Harry demolishing his office. His expression was calm, almost detached. "You care so much that you feel you will bleed to death with the pain of it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-5240656105780805986?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/5240656105780805986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=5240656105780805986&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/5240656105780805986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/5240656105780805986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/07/i-dont-care-yelled-harrysnatching-up.html' title=''/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-8278608735434893397</id><published>2009-06-30T22:32:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-30T23:09:54.127+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rant'/><title type='text'>aka OCD</title><content type='html'>Having seen IIT-Delhi through the eyes of quite a LOT of students, and ex-students, by reading their blogs &lt;a href="http://www.iitd.ac.in/bsp/index_files/page0005.htm"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;, some dating right from 2005, I have an image in mind. And right now, I also can't seem to decide whether to be a full-on nerd and study 24-7, or balance acads with extracs. What I also know is whatever I decide, is going to have no consequence on what I actually end up doing. Its just that am very pretty 'vela' (see, am getting hold of the delhi slang) and so, fantasise, more than a fair amount, about my life there.&lt;br /&gt;I may discontinue this blog in a fortnight, I don't know what it is, but am in this 'disconnecting' phase. I don't know what I hate so much about right now, but I just want to start afresh. I want to get rid of my old messenger list, my blog, my memories of school, every thing and every so-called friend in my so-called social circle. I hate the fact that this guy who is supposedly this very-good-also-sometimes-called-the-best friend, is going to the very same place as me. I completely despise it.&lt;br /&gt;What is my problem.(?)&lt;br /&gt;I have no idea.&lt;br /&gt;I am, maybe, still a child, like everybody says I am. I live in utopia. I want everybody to be perfect, the way I believe perfect is. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Self-Note: Stop. Am not going there. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am obsessed. I am compulsive. And I am a disorder.&lt;br /&gt;Stay away.&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-8278608735434893397?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/8278608735434893397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=8278608735434893397&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8278608735434893397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8278608735434893397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/06/aka-ocd.html' title='aka OCD'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-4385495446944905712</id><published>2009-06-24T21:00:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-24T21:06:40.757+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FunnyIMHO'/><title type='text'>...where the skies are not cloudy all day...</title><content type='html'>Okay, let me gloat today. IIT-Delhi. Wow. Thank you so much God.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How-mucho-ever happy the occasion might be, there are always people out to spoil your party, so :D turned to :) and later :( , but now I have decided to be plain :| to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Q of the day: Username &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;ka matlab&lt;/span&gt; Full Name &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;hota hai&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;No points for guessing the ask-er.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;R.I.P. -  Dreams of getting into IIT-Bombay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note to self: Don't be a poophead, IITD rocks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-4385495446944905712?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/4385495446944905712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=4385495446944905712&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4385495446944905712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4385495446944905712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/06/where-skies-are-not-cloudy-all-day.html' title='...where the skies are not cloudy all day...'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-6412235559312024579</id><published>2009-06-15T23:01:00.004+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-30T18:47:33.127+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Guest'/><title type='text'>Look who Pee-d</title><content type='html'>- By Prashant aka Pee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do i even bother with this drag??......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;reasons galore....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1)Because That sparkling smile of yours is more contagious than that flu originating from the specie that u belong to :P .&lt;br /&gt;Those neat rows of 'pepsodentesque' teeth flash brighter than u are.(or arent :P)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2)Because your voice is like one of those french wines.....&lt;br /&gt;effervescent and bubbly,sweetish and heady and very addictive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3)Because i owe my elevated comfort levels with females to you.&lt;br /&gt;My constant interaction with you has resulted in me shedding those unfounded inhibitions and opening up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4)Because you are the first nerd i made friends with and did not regret doing so. Kudos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5)because your innocence is like a refreshing breeze in an otherwise sultry world. At times surreal, but endearing nonetheless, your unassuming being rouses my 'elder-brotherly instincts'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6)Because your feminity is fluently beautiful to behold.&lt;br /&gt;Though at times ostentatious, it cuts a figure right from the pages of some fairy tale for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7)Because you once said that i remind you of oliver barrett 3.&lt;br /&gt;Makes me look forward with optimism towards getting a Jenni Cavilleri of my own.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8)Because you are pretty intelligent and other girls, in comparison seem like morons......&lt;br /&gt;Your sharpness makes them dwindle into ungainly side-kicks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9)Because i never sensed the literary undercurrents in my veins till i met you. You became my muse owing to the obvious reasons.&lt;br /&gt;My pen has come a long way but madame muse remains fickle as always.......figuratively and otherwise....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10)Because your looks have displaced my normally adamant stand to the complete opposite end of the spectrum.&lt;br /&gt;The nasty criticism morphs into praise as realisations strikes me.&lt;br /&gt;The quaint little ugly duckling is transforming into a magnificent swan and i cant help but gape shamelessly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11)Because your preachings seriously rival the ancient gospels.&lt;br /&gt;Whether it is egging a slacker to take on a topper or convincing a disgruntled son to reconcile with his fiery dad, the goodwill that you disseminate only adds to your angelic persona.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;12)Because you put up with me day in day out and still manage to retain your sanity.&lt;br /&gt;The fact that i can get hopelessly irritating at times, and still you persevere, makes the absence of a halo around your head, even more conspicuous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13)Because your curly tresses are a scene of controlled chaos.But somehow, even this controlled confusion in your dense foliage compliments your looks positively.&lt;br /&gt;For a change, i am not disturbed that a part of you is not 'straight'......:P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;14)Because you appreciate my sense of humour and that is very gratifying as i am used to haveing my spontaneous slapsticks, dismissed as mere PJs..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15)The endless hours spent chatting with you are the slivers of time, i most cherish.&lt;br /&gt;And, when you are long gone(god forbid), the archived conversations will bring all the happy recollections surging back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16)Because you are cute and annoying at the same time and surprisingly, even this cocky combo doesnt blow my otherwise short fuse off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17)Because all that pep talk of yours enlivens the being and arrests the sagging spiritswhen i feel languid and loserly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;18)Because you call me pee.And if anything, i only like being called so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19)Because you are so different and cosmopolitan in comparison with those guys from UP that i encounter at the wormhole.&lt;br /&gt;Makes it so much more easy to identify with you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;20)Because you managed to convince a serial procrastinator like me to start a blog and if i am enjoying the experience, i needn't look any further to express my gratitude.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;21)Because my fb account is indebted to you.&lt;br /&gt;It is finally in reckoning after you came along after months spent languishing in disuse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22)Because you enabled me to re-establish contacts with suyash and build upon an old acquaintance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;23)Because the out and out achiever that you are, i often find myself boasting of your achievenments.&lt;br /&gt;Inspires me to make this world, my oyster.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;24)Because you are you and there is no second.&lt;br /&gt;There never was, nor can ever be some one like you.&lt;br /&gt;never change princess........YOU RULE.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-6412235559312024579?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/6412235559312024579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=6412235559312024579&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/6412235559312024579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/6412235559312024579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/06/look-who-pee-d.html' title='Look who Pee-d'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-2698351936203881930</id><published>2009-06-15T21:03:00.002+05:30</published><updated>2009-06-15T22:07:28.374+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tig Tag Toe'/><title type='text'>Tag.</title><content type='html'>[x] yourself!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOUR BOY SIDE—&lt;br /&gt;[x] You love hoodies.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You love jeans.&lt;br /&gt;[] Dogs are better than cats.&lt;br /&gt;[] It’s hilarious when people get hurt.&lt;br /&gt;[] Shopping is torture.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Sad movies stink. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You own a car racing game.  &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;On My PC ;)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You played with Hot Wheels cars as a kid. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Rarely, but yes!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] At some point in time you wanted to be a fire-fighter.&lt;br /&gt;[] You owned a DS, PS2, N64,or Sega.&lt;br /&gt;[] You used to be obsessed with Power Rangers.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You have watched sports on TV. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Heh. Who doesn't watch cricket in India!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] Gory movies are cool. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You go to your dad for advice.&lt;br /&gt;[] You own like a trillion baseball caps.&lt;br /&gt;[] You used to collect hockey cards&lt;br /&gt;[] Baggy sweats are cool to wear.&lt;br /&gt;[] It’s kinda weird to have sleepovers with a bunch of people.&lt;br /&gt;[x] Green, black, red, blue, or silver are one of your favorite colors.&lt;br /&gt;[] You love to go crazy and not care what people think.&lt;br /&gt;[] Sports are fun.&lt;br /&gt;[] You talk with food in your mouth.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You sleep with your socks on at night. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;In trains, when I want least contact with the open surfaces, I freak out in trains, I think everything is dirty!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You have fished at least once.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YOUR GIRL SIDE—&lt;br /&gt;[x] You love to shop. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;I live to shop.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You wear eyeliner.&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You wear the color pink. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;I am surrounded by pink!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You go to your mom to talk. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You consider cheerleading a sport.&lt;br /&gt;[] You hate wearing the color black.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You like going to the mall.&lt;br /&gt;[x]You like getting manicures and/or pedicures. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You like wearing jewelry. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 51, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;With Sarees or Lehengas and stuff.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You cried watching The Notebook.&lt;br /&gt;[] Skirts are a big part of your wardrobe. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] Shopping is one of your favorite hobbies.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You don’t like the movie Star Wars. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;I hate the posters, never got to the movie!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You are/were in gymnastics. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;Like physical labour?! Me? :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] It takes you around one hour to shower, get dressed, and make-up. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;When I want to look major pretty, but doesn't matter 'cause I end up looking the same. Bleh.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You smile a lot more than you should. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;I laugh, giggle, get into trouble.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] You have more than 10 pairs of shoes. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You care about what you look like. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You like wearing dresses when you can.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You like wearing high heel shoes.&lt;br /&gt;[x] You used to play with dolls as little kid.&lt;br /&gt;[] You like putting make-up on others. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Gross-ness.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] You like being the star of everything. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] Pink is one of your favourite colors.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Appearance •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I am shorter than 5′5″.  &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;Just a bit :( &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I have many scars. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I tan/ burn easily.&lt;br /&gt;[] I wish my hair was a different color.&lt;br /&gt;[] I have friends who have never seen my natural hair color.&lt;br /&gt;[] I have a tattoo. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I am self-conscious about my appearance.&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve had/have braces.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve been told I’m attractive by a complete stranger. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I have more than two piercings.&lt;br /&gt;[] I have / had piercings in places besides my ears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Embarrassment •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve slipped out a “lol” in a spoken conversation. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;More or less.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] Disney movies still make me cry. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve snorted while laughing. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve laughed so hard I’ve cried.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve glued my hand to something.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve laughed ’til some kind of beverage came out of my nose.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve had my pants rip in public. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Health •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve gotten stitches.&lt;br /&gt;[] Broken a bone.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve had my tonsils removed&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve sat in a doctor’s office with a friend.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve had my wisdom teeth removed.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve had serious surgery.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve had chicken pox.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Traveling •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve driven / riden over 200 miles in one day. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Canada.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Cuba.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Niagara Falls.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Ottawa.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve gone to Sudbury.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to the Caribbean.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Europe.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to Florida. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Experiences •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve gotten lost in my city.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve seen a shooting star.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve wished on a shooting star.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve seen a meteor shower.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve gone out in public in my pyjamas.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve pushed all the buttons on an elevator. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve kicked a guy where it hurts. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;If its the heart, yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been to a casino. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been skydiving. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve gone skinny-dipping. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve crashed a car. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been skiing. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been in a musical. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve caught a snowflake or snow on my tongue. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve seen the Northern Lights. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve sat on a rooftop at night.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve played a prank on someone.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve ridden in a taxi.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve eaten Sushi.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been snowboarding. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Relationships •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’m single. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’m in a relationship.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’m engaged.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’m married.&lt;br /&gt;[] I miss someone right now.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve gotten divorced.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve told someone I loved them when I didn’t.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve told someone I didn’t love them when I did.&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Honesty / Crime •&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve done something I promised someone else I wouldn’t. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve done something I promised myself I wouldn’t. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve snuck out.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve lied to my parents about where I am.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’ve cheated while playing a game.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve ran a red light.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve witnessed a crime.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been in a fist fight.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve been arrested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Death and Suicide •&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’m afraid of dying. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I hate funerals. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve seen someone / something dying.&lt;br /&gt;[] Someone close to me has attempted / committed suicide.&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve written a eulogy for myself. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Materialism •&lt;br /&gt;[] I own over 5 rap CD’s.&lt;br /&gt;[] I have an unhealthy obsession with anime&lt;br /&gt;[] I own REAL designer purses, costing over $100 a piece.&lt;br /&gt;[] I own something from Pac Sun.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I collected comic books.&lt;br /&gt;[] I own something from The Gap.&lt;br /&gt;[] I own something I got on E-Bay.&lt;br /&gt;[] I own something from Abercrombie. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;:O I always thought I was way materialistic!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;• Random •&lt;br /&gt;[x] I can sing well. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Mum said so:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] Stolen a tray from a fast food restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I open up to others easily. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Sometimes too much, to too many people!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I watch the news. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I don’t kill bugs. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;They kill me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I sing in the shower. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I am a morning person. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Nocturnal animal, more like it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I paid for my cell phone ring tone. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;The Previous one, yes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I am a sports fanatic.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I twirl my hair. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Thats supposed to be a preening gesture, and I do it a lot, means I have  a crush on everybody around me?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I care about grammar. &lt;span style="color: rgb(204, 102, 204); font-style: italic;"&gt;Totally. If you don't like grammar, I don't like you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I have “?”’s in my screen name.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I love spam.&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve copied more than 30 CD’s in a day.&lt;br /&gt;[] I bake well. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;If Shuvi = Cook, Bake = Burn.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] My favorite color is either white, yellow, pink, red, blue, black, purple, or orange.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I would wear pajamas to school. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I know how to shoot a gun.&lt;br /&gt;[] I am guilty of tYpInG lIkE tHiS...EvErY nOw AnD tHeN. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I laugh at my own jokes. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;When nobody else does, just to feel better, like now:P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I eat fast food weekly. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[] I’ve not turned anything in and still got an A in a certain class. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I can’t sleep if there is a spider in the room.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I am really ticklish. &lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Like Really Really.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I like white chocolate.&lt;br /&gt;[] I bite my nails. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’m good at remembering faces.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’m good at remembering names.&lt;br /&gt;[x] I’m good at remembering dates.&lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[x] I honestly have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt;[x] All my answers were totally honest. &lt;span style="color: rgb(51, 204, 255);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(204, 102, 204);"&gt;Maybe. Maybe not. :P&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-2698351936203881930?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/2698351936203881930/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=2698351936203881930&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/2698351936203881930'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/2698351936203881930'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/06/tag.html' title='Tag.'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-4235597191945864036</id><published>2009-05-27T13:25:00.003+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-27T14:12:19.303+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='FunnyIMHO'/><title type='text'>Fantastic 5</title><content type='html'>#1 Its funny how these tabloid articles with those put-india-tv-to-shame headlines carry stories which end with one same line: When asked to comment on it, *Insert name of person* said, "Its not true!".&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, that doesn't stop me from reading them, I need my daily dose of drama, no?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#2 I got a message from an old friend from an ex-school, which said: "it ws so nice 2 c ur name in toppers list...U R D BEST FRND"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#3 Status message of a facebook 'friend': hey frends who took IIT...plz tell ur results......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#4 "&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Saand&lt;/span&gt;" *the bovine*&lt;br /&gt;        - Uz, on being asked what she is reminded of, by the colour red.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;#5 Reporter: 'What do you think of Priyanka as a youth icon?'&lt;br /&gt;       JEE AIR *** : 'Oh, she's hot'&lt;br /&gt;     Reporter: 'Er, I meant Priyanka Gandhi'&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-4235597191945864036?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/4235597191945864036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=4235597191945864036&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4235597191945864036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4235597191945864036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/05/fantastic-5.html' title='Fantastic 5'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-8748392253424346267</id><published>2009-05-14T13:07:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-14T13:14:28.888+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>"You be the prince and I ll be the princess, Its a love story, baby just say yes..."</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;“I look the same in all my pictures!”, whined Leia. Whining, with her, was not a matter of worry, it was a habit, a way of life. “Maybe its because you’re the same person, baby..” cajoled Nikhil, with ways of life like hers, a life-support was essential. She yelled, and shrieked, and clawed, and purred. He endured with a smile, and an occasional outburst. She was messed up in her own fears and insecurities. He was involved with hers. She threw herself to danger. He protected her like a child. She thought she walked on roses. He made sure it stayed that way. She took him for granted. He took her to the rides. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;            &lt;/span&gt;She was honest, in the sense she paid all her bills, never jumped the red light, never even parked in a bloody no-parking zone. But with her words, one could never say. It was difficult to predict, in any given circumstances, whether she meant what she said, or whether she was showing off her queen-of-sarcasm skills. He thought her eyes would never lie. But she was a quick learner. And had mastered the art of manipulating her still naïve eyes. Maneuvering them around to corroborate her little lies. Arguments. She loved them so. And took care never to lose. Her words were precious to her, she kept them close, never conceding even if she knew she was in the wrong, she had to have the last word. One could not counter her by pointing she had said something contrary a while ago. Her views, as she so often put it, were subject to change. She was whimsical, flimsy, and frivolous, and he loved every part of it. Of her. She was his prized possession. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=""&gt;           &lt;/span&gt;Living with her was a challenge, for every day he survived, he thought he deserved a job-well-done pat. And he got it. Sharing her life was every bit a reward as it was a task. For him, at least. She wasn’t a difficult person. But when she loved with all her heart, she thought she reserved the right to hate with all of it too. And she had expectations. She was from babble-dom, while he, was a man of few, rather no, words. She would make the droopy face, and move on to her next object of attention, the shinier the better. But it struck him to the core. She never understood why, though she thought she tried. Much. He could predict her next sentence, knew her inside out. She, at times, had no idea who he was. He knew all about her, maybe because she always said so much, describing every minute detail, inventing some, excruciatingly pulled out from her very blonde pensieve. He spoke less, and she wasn’t too good at mind reading. She didn’t know his demons. And she was too absorbed to care. She ranted, he listened. They were happy in their little blind-to-the-world cocoon. But deep down, she knew it wasn’t perfect. She knew she would have to let go. She knew she could still manage. And she knew he couldn’t, and wouldn’t. Let go.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;br /&gt;*Random write. Even if you hate it, please don't say it to my face. ;) *&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-8748392253424346267?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/8748392253424346267/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=8748392253424346267&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8748392253424346267'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/8748392253424346267'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/05/you-be-prince-and-i-ll-be-princess-its.html' title='&quot;You be the prince and I ll be the princess, Its a love story, baby just say yes...&quot;'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-1729010912141420903</id><published>2009-05-03T18:27:00.008+05:30</published><updated>2009-05-04T00:51:51.513+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Dream'/><title type='text'>KKR will never make it to the semis *sigh* ...</title><content type='html'>The cousin baby sister's out... *...of the womb, i mean*. EEE. &lt;span style="font-size:180%;"&gt;EEE.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I have been forbidden from posting pics, so won't. But its just your loss, 'cause she's the prettiest thing since.. um, me? Sacrilege, no no. Prettiest woman on earth, ok?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;     The Wizard of Uz has beaten all doubt that she's a girl, she has finally gone ahead and done what she had been threatening to, all these years. She has got a boy-cut! Are you even allowed to do that?! She is seventeen, for God's sake, and born a girl(Don't ask me how, but I do know, for sure). Yet she continues to defy all laws of the sisterhood of um, women. Mental note: Give crash course on feminity before she leaves for college. Now I know why I hear girls in IITs aren't all that eye candy. Its the serious &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;wala&lt;/span&gt; I-deny-all-allegiance-with-humankind attitude. Why, oh why. I think I know why. IIT types are supposed to be all sincere and hardworking, and the thing with girls is that, they are victims of certain neurotic social mores which state:&lt;br /&gt;Universal-Nonsensical Laws of Girl Stereotypes -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;1.'If you're pretty, you've got to be dumb'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;2.'Either you are dumb, or you're ugly'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;So, we can choose to doll up, or look sincere and hardworking. I am sure its those retarded guys who make up all these stoopid notions. Hell, girls are supposed to be multi-tasking since eternity. Just because them guys cant, doesn't say for the fairer species as well. Its so unfair I never got a wax done, just because I didn't want people to think I was '&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;waisi&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;'. Yeah, one should not pay heed to what others say, but um, I do. I do care what people think about me. Maybe everyone does, secretly or otherwise. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and something I saw on a coffee mug in an Archies outlet - 'If you're beautiful on the outside, nobody will care if you're ugly on the inside'. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And something I found on the net -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/Sf3oeX_oDGI/AAAAAAAAABg/nKW5gWaJ1uo/s1600-h/unique.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/Sf3oeX_oDGI/AAAAAAAAABg/nKW5gWaJ1uo/s320/unique.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5331673142411136098" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a few else, I found on www.despair.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~It's lonely at the top, but it's comforting to look down upon everyone at the bottom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~It takes 43 muscles to frown and 17 to smile, but it doesn't take any to just sit there with a dumb look on your face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~Genius is 1 percent inspiration and 99% perspiration, which is why engineers sometimes smell really bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~If at first you don't succeed, failure may be your style.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~If you never try anything new, you'll miss out on many of life's great disappointments.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~When you wish upon a falling star, your dreams can come true. Unless it's really a meteorite hurtling to the Earth which will destroy all life. Then you're pretty much hosed no matter what you wish for. Unless it's death by meteor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;~If you want to get to the top, prepare to kiss a lot of the bottom.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I had a strange dream last night involving me and Shahid Kapur, and Priyanka Chopra, which started with me pleading Priyanka to be boyfriend-girlfriend with Sha, 'cause I was SO unhappy he had been SO unceremoniously dumped by *India's-answer-to-dumbness-personified-Paris-Hilton* Kareena. A lot of chaos later, it ended with Sha professing his love for ME(!!!), and me crying. Weird much. No, I don't crush Sha too. So I fail to find ANY connection with the life-and-times-of-me right now. Anyway, weird, but cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;PS : To both of you, you know who you are, I waited all day just to see if you would call. Thanks for disappointing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-1729010912141420903?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/1729010912141420903/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=1729010912141420903&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1729010912141420903'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/1729010912141420903'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/05/kkr-will-never-make-it-to-semis-sigh.html' title='KKR will never make it to the semis *sigh* ...'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_aN_br20D3Lk/Sf3oeX_oDGI/AAAAAAAAABg/nKW5gWaJ1uo/s72-c/unique.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-7230269038851829518</id><published>2009-04-24T22:35:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-25T11:23:04.927+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='IPL'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Before I begin, I HOPE you people have caught on to &lt;a href="http://www.fakeiplplayer.blogspot.com/"&gt;http://www.fakeiplplayer.blogspot.com/&lt;/a&gt;, if not, shoo. scat. now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings me to last night's match between Kolkata Knight Riders and Rajasthan Royals. Lalit Modi, the guy who practically is the Father of The IPL, was seen shouting in the last over "Hope for a bowl-out, guys!". Now, if some random guy-on-the-street said it, it could still make sense, but hasn't it been light years since the bowl-out was replaced with the Super Over, to decide in case of a tie! And This Guy, of all the people, SHOULD know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, the drama continued..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Over 19.5 - Ganguly gets out, obviously disappointed&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ganguly: fug, oh fug, fug fug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Camera pans to Shilpa Shetty who obviously has no idea what's going on&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shilpa: Yay. So I can see our players rejoicing. We won kya?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Last Ball. Ishant Sharma grabs a run.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shane Warne: Get it done with quick, I gotta go home to the chikas.&lt;br /&gt;Ganguly: fug fug&lt;br /&gt;Shilpa Shetty: Somebody tell me what's going on! 20 overs done, why is nobody moving?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;KKR manage a measly 15, with RR in, Yusuf hits a couple of sixes&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ganguly: fug fug&lt;br /&gt;Shilpa Shetty: Ah, finally something I understand. A six is good, &lt;em&gt;hai na, Raj&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Match over. RR win.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, I was being yelled at, to shut down the TV and let everybody sleep, so I have no idea what happened next. I am sure of one thing though, for the next few days-&lt;br /&gt;Ganguly: fug fug&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;***&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a time, when I was around 7, I aspired to be the 'coach of the Indian National Cricket Team'. Me. The epitome of laziness. And yes, am talkin about the men's cricket team. No, not because I had the hots for anybody there, I am not too fond of sports people, they sweat a lot, and smell a lot. Plus, the bunch of guys in the Indian Cricket Team can't frame one proper sentence in English, and THAT is a super turn off. I just thought that the coach's job was to give pep talk, and I believed I was good at that. Anyway I was eight. At eight, I was planning to marry a south Indian &lt;em&gt;ladka &lt;/em&gt;so he could cook &lt;em&gt;dosas&lt;/em&gt; for me, which evidently, at that point of time, I loved. Also, my other career prospects at various points in time, have widely ranged from a maidservant('cause she was allowed to "play" with water and I wasn't) to um, a Miss India. Now the latter is not a career, but hello, I was 4, and I guess you are allowed to be dumb then. Anyway, what was I saying? Uh, forget it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I took this quiz at Facebook which said:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://quiz.applatform.com/track/?i=24001&amp;amp;h=74ed53a34ef4f40cbbc07cda0f5a6ad8"&gt;wattt is the best part in your face???!&lt;/a&gt; quiz and the result is &lt;a href="http://quiz.applatform.com/track/?i=24001&amp;amp;h=74ed53a34ef4f40cbbc07cda0f5a6ad8"&gt;lips&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ha a born good kisser,,obvious..okay yur jus very good at partyin n adjustable,, hav dumb attitude buttt ppl can handle it nott many,,.. anywayyy yur style is simple n yur a born singer,,.. yur lucky colours are,,..peach n pink&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why, oh why do people write like that, I can still tolerate the 'yur's but whattttt innn thee naammme offf thee devilll isss thissss styleee of writingg. Reminded me of those random creeps on orkut, who would go, &lt;em&gt;hiiiii....girlllll...wannnnaaaa fryy withhh meee??...lettt me knowwww...dying for replyyyy.... &lt;/em&gt;And I am not joking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;***&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS: Baichung Bhutia reminds me of a crush who's already taken. And so I can't bear to watch &lt;em&gt;Jhalak&lt;/em&gt; anymore. Actually, the crush. The one, and the only one. Who seems to have found his One too, but it isn't me. And all my life, I have to live knowing the fact that somebody else is married to my husband. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Last line taken from When Harry Met Sally*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-7230269038851829518?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/7230269038851829518/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=7230269038851829518&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7230269038851829518'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/7230269038851829518'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/04/before-i-begin-i-hope-you-people-have.html' title=''/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-3613881603407071447</id><published>2009-04-14T00:35:00.015+05:30</published><updated>2009-08-30T19:11:09.511+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Random'/><title type='text'>Random-astic</title><content type='html'>My CompaqKeyboard has the following golden words written on it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;                                                                          &lt;!----&gt;WARNING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;To reduce risk of serious injury, read Safety &amp;amp; Comfort&lt;br /&gt;Guide provided with productand at www.compaq.com/ergo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just how can a keyboard be a source of injury, though, is beyond me. Unless of course, somebody intends on falling asleep in front of the PC, and accidentally smacking his face onto this apparent WMD, or then of course, good ol' disconnecting it, and you know,&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; kisi ke sar pe fekna&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*stares at her feet in the awkward silence*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok. I thought it was funny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My two precious followers *beams*(yes I have a new one, apart from the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;pakka&lt;/span&gt; loyalist cuppycake choo-yash!), please don't disown me. Yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Tangential Note: &lt;/span&gt;The wizard of Uz, my Second Best Friend(this first second third best friend shit makes me feel like a baby, but I have a compulsive need of listing everything), "by mistake" *rolls eyes* deleted the first post of this blog, which somehow feels quite absurd, like wearing a dress without the undies on(!), but I can't do anything about it now, or can I??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--&gt;Does ANYBODY know? Can we get back an old -deleted- post???&lt;--          Passing thought: If while walking with my parents, I were to slip and fall, and yelled fug instead of shit, would they scold me?      Being the quintessential good girl has its own demerits, Uz and I get our highs by saying fug in hushed whispers. In private. When nobody's listening. Maybe its the see-I-can-be-a-bad-girl-too thing. Do I talk like some pseudo-angelic-puppy-eyed chika? Its not pseudo darlings, look closely, and you can just catch the halo.      Just went through what I had written. Ooh. Meet me at 1 am in the night, and your goldfish will seem to make more sense than I do. But then, my friends say they feel so even during the day...!   PS: Yay Vasudha. Everybody hail, the &lt;a href="http://www.no-url-left-for-me.blogspot.com/"&gt;tattletale&lt;/a&gt;! I heart your blog, and am excited crazy to have a follower who is not linked to me by blood, bench or bribe. :) Do update, its been eons.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-3613881603407071447?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/3613881603407071447/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=3613881603407071447&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/3613881603407071447'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/3613881603407071447'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/04/random-astic.html' title='Random-astic'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-2709322126236828656</id><published>2009-04-06T23:35:00.005+05:30</published><updated>2009-04-06T23:39:50.663+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Gaana'/><title type='text'>When I post, I do so in pairs</title><content type='html'>Everybody, and I mean, EVERY BODY, needs to check out &lt;a href="http://www.lyrics007.com/Guns%20N'%20Roses%20Lyrics/November%20Rain%20Lyrics.html"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;song!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-2709322126236828656?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='related' href='http://www.lyrics007.com/Guns%20N&apos;%20Roses%20Lyrics/November%20Rain%20Lyrics.html' title='When I post, I do so in pairs'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/2709322126236828656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=2709322126236828656&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/2709322126236828656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/2709322126236828656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/04/when-i-post-i-do-so-in-pairs.html' title='When I post, I do so in pairs'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-4429985114653669399</id><published>2009-03-14T22:08:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-14T22:39:27.244+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Shopping'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wedding'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Saree'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Mom'/><title type='text'>Bulletin-II</title><content type='html'>I got my saree!! Its an orange-and-pale ochre chiffon one, and I think it looks beeyootiful(Of course, that's why I bought it in the first place). But it was fun, the whole shoppin' spree, they always are, but today's was better, with everybody fawning over me as if I was the bride. There's this one guy who drapes anything you even remotely like around you, while the other guy goes &lt;em&gt;'Didi, ye bahut unique piece hai, aappe khilega'. &lt;/em&gt;He even said &lt;em&gt;'Aapka to safed rang hai, sab jaega'&lt;/em&gt;. &lt;em&gt;SAFED&lt;/em&gt;?? I am wheatish in kind words, but white?? Hello, even my mother wouldn't say that! And, oh yes, my mum was all '&lt;em&gt;thoda&lt;/em&gt; english colours &lt;em&gt;dikhana&lt;/em&gt;, you know, pastels'. Lol, he knows pastels, alright. And as I write this, another War of the Words with the TBF. What is this salty thing on my right cheek? Oops, a tear.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-4429985114653669399?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/4429985114653669399/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=4429985114653669399&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4429985114653669399'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/4429985114653669399'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/03/i-got-my-saree-its-orange-and-pale.html' title='Bulletin-II'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6535550940566549849.post-740163322940742506</id><published>2009-03-14T17:55:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2009-03-14T18:20:30.320+05:30</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Y'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Uz'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Fight'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wedding'/><title type='text'>Bulletin Board</title><content type='html'>Bhai getting married in May. Mom wants me to wear a gown. I detest. It'll be too much of a scandal for the poor Lucknow-ites. Reminds me, Uz wanted me to wear a strapless one(sometimes I wonder if she's straight), which of course, I can't 'cause its going to come crashing down taking with it all my supposed &lt;em&gt;izzat&lt;/em&gt; and my 'standing in thee society'(Zoya factor, anyone?). And am already wearing &lt;em&gt;lehengas&lt;/em&gt; for two other functions, so leaves me with the national attire, shopping of which I am supposed to do today. Oh, by the way, I fought with my third best friend. Again. And we are not talking. Again. And this "childish" decision was taken by me. Again. I repeat the whole 'Lets not talk' chorus over and over so many times, I wonder if it matters to the Third Best Friend anymore. But whatever, I don't care what the TBF thinks about me. I think. I hope.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6535550940566549849-740163322940742506?l=have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/feeds/740163322940742506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6535550940566549849&amp;postID=740163322940742506&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/740163322940742506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6535550940566549849/posts/default/740163322940742506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://have-eyes-will-stare.blogspot.com/2009/03/bulletin-board.html' title='Bulletin Board'/><author><name>The Hedonistaah</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00648819038759203103</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
