Goodbye

Tonight's probably going to be a night of tears and sadness and smiles and pictures and fun and dancing. But most of all, it's going to be full of memories. I know this takes cliches to a whole new level, but having spent the past 5 years here, in this school, letting go will not be easy. To make things worse, I don't know when I will see these people ever again. I mean, what with them getting placements all over the world, it feels so impossible to keep in touch. I just hope that the closest friends will remain. People like Jesika, Siddharth, Sasha, Ayush, Khushbu & Vyoma. People who have actually made a difference. Thank God for Facebook & Skype but I wish it weren't to end so soon.

I don't know what life's going to be like after school. Which place will I go to.. Who my new friends will be.. None of that stuff. And though that does seem to be the least of my worries right now, I wonder if they'll be anything like my present friends.

Goodbye's never seemed so hard. But then again when was goodbye easy. The last time I said goodbye in the 7th grade, I was curled up in my bed for 2 hours with my teddy bear blanket soaking wet by the end of it. Oh well, everyone needs to get on with life, as do I.. And all my friends. And even though I know they might not read this, goodbye & I love you guys for giving me the best 5 years of my life <3.

Ramble.

It's been a while since I woke up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy. School's a bore. Even though we essentially have 7 days of school left. Everything's a drag. And I want to kill someone. Reasons for crap mood:
1. Weird guy/girl.
2. Bad throat (boo you smoke & beer)
3. Manslut.
4. Okay. There was a fourth reason but I can't remember.

I'm sleepy. Yes, I've already slept in the evening. No, that doesn't make me non-sleepy.

I want sheesha.

Okay bye.

Colours

Crushed glass lays on the floor. Shards of bangles, sharp yet beautiful. A shiny kaleidescope of dreams, colours and opportunities.
That is what life is. A big shiny kaleidescope of what was, what is and what will be. Something you look at from far and see it as a whole in its absolute perfection. Take a moment to look closer though, each piece has its own imperfections, like each of us. Like each perfect moment in life holds its imperfections. You can overlook the imperfection of each shard and paint a beautiful, perfect picture. Or you could scrutinize each detail and destroy the beauty of the moment.
Wishful thinking. Hope that each moment is flawless like the surface of a polished diamond. And yet, that perfection will rise from imperfection. Yet, we want life to be easy. To be colourful, to be simple. Then why complicate things? Introspection helps.
"Whoever said that the rain is gloomy has never danced in the rain"
There's always a rainbow at the end of the rain. Will you wait for the breath-taking array of colours to fill your sky whilst you sit, sullen, in the downpour? Or would you rather dance in the rain, hold someone's hand and seal your forever with a kiss? I would choose the latter.
I see those bangles, wooden bangles now - orange, brown, blue, yellow, black, green, pink - colours. Gracefully hiding behind my books; and yet I see them, in their full glory, as the light up the table, a bright array of beautiful colours. Slip them slowly onto your bare hand, clunk clunk, and somehow, they're so vibrant that you feel alive.
Life, like colours, isn't always bright. But there is still some colour at every stage of life. Perspectives change, black for me, is all the colours. Black for you might be darkness. When life hits its low, everything seems dark - black. A pessimist would see it as an endless pit of despair and no escape. I see it as black too - but because black is an amalgam of all colours and life can head into a myriad different directions. It's only a matter of choice. It's how you decide to see things.
Yes, I might sound like an indefatigable optimist at times but I'd rather see life in techno with a multitude of colours, sparkle and shine rather than in a claustrophobic reel of black and white tape.

May 2010

4th May, 2010. 63 days to go. 9 weeks. 2 months. Seems like a lot of time. Truth be told though, it just isn't. 2 months can never be equal to 2 years. And yet, I'm embarking on this mission to achieve what seems to be close to impossible. Dedication, perseverance, hard work, blah blah blah. These things run in my head all the time, it's absolute chaos in there, something that I cannot figure out after having lived for 17 years with myself.
IB grades have never been this important to me, not before today. Not before I saw my parents overlooking Basu's tirade of endless abuses and utterly demotivating crap, for the lack of a better word. Sometimes, I wish I could go to him and tell him how much I hate him. Tell him that how many ever times he tells me not to use the lift, I don't give a rat's ass about his fucking opinion. I don't give a fuck about what he thinks of me or my apparently "gloomy future" and he can just go and shove it. Personal vendetta is one thing, trying to ruin a student on the basis of a personal vendetta is the most immature and pathetic thing I have ever seen. Quite obviously I don't think very highly of Mr Abhimanyu Basu and the apparent authority he commands in school because truly, no one respects that man. The only reason we, as IB students, listen to him is because we fear him and hate him for his brutality. And thus, I pity that fat excuse for a man.
But here, I deviate. Getting back to May 2010, the following three months will be one of the most crucial phases of my life and nothing can stand in the way of me trying to work towards a grade good enough to leave Basu gobsmacked. Math has never been my forte even though I aced my IGCSE 10th grade with an A*. Yet, the IGCSE now seems like a small and insignificant hurdle in the light of the forthcoming exams. Yes,  I hate Math with a true vengeance, almost as much as I hate Basu. But I vow to forget that I hate it, no I cannot love it, I wouldn't ask for the impossible. But I can always forget that I hate it, just for 3 months. Seems like a small price to pay for a life full of hopes and aspirations devoid of all aforementioned gloominess. Psychology, I love. And yet, I cannot do well. Disappoints me sometimes. But 63 days is not too less to master what I've lost out on. Okay so maybe I might have to stress my STM and LTM to encode better (wow, I'm already doing it!) but it's okay. As long as I get into a good university/college, nothing seems too difficult.
Today I rediscovered my love for Ms Chinai. Yes, she has been mighty mean to me sometimes but I will not absolve myself of all guilt by holding her responsible for it. I have been a lax student and she has only tried to be a good teacher. When she offered that she would speak to the University where she works at to admit me based on conditional SAT and IB final psychology scores, I swear my heart leaped into my mouth and right into my hands. And if it weren't too gross, I would've offered it to her, because really, no other teacher (besides Mr Joshi of course) has ever cared so much. It's a mighty good feeling.
With a resolve to ace the IB in May 2010 (and shut Basu up forever), I depart now to resume doing my lab reports.
Good luck to me. :)