I flicked it away.

Ok, this is going to be one of those melancholic posts, where I will crib and crib and crib.
Bear with me.

I wish I could get stoned or something.Its a pity, most of the nice sounding blogs that I read are about people who get drunk and get stoned and say nice stuff or hilarious stuff or philosophical stuff, depending on the amount of consumption.
I have been told that my blog sounds nice too, but I have to make an effort you see, to make it sound nice enough.I don't know why I keep on trying to please people.why can't I just be me?..Maybe that IS me. The slightly sycophantic, sad, fat case.

Just you inform you now.It is beyond midnight, and I really wanted to try smoking..so after I finished typing the above paragraph, I sneaked in to my parent's room and filched a ciggie from my father's pack.And ahh..

I AM a sad case.I mean I want to smoke.But I can't smoke....


Anyway.
Well, I guess I should talk about something depressing.I love cribbing.
So, I used to be this pretty kid when I was a six year old..I used to go to school wearing this Grey-tunic-pink-shirt uniform and people tell me I actually looked like a pink rose.[the name of the school being Rose Bud].Living in a joint family, with the most adorable, nearly-human dog you will ever come across, a cousin with whom I would sit and Watch "Alif Laila" every Monday.My sister and I would spend hours at an end listening to music cooped up in a room.[Though I never understood why she would listen to all the cassettes in the same order every single day.].In the winters we all would laze around in the courtyard, near the tulshi gachh.My cousins and me would play snake and ladders and badminton[in which I sucked].Life was as good as it can get.

Cut to eight years thereafter.
We had shifted to an apartment in the suburbs.
My sister was ten.We all knew what autism was.My parents had had their bit of training so as they could train their kid.I did not have any training, still I managed to train my sister.( Look thats Sharukh Khan.... thats Rani Mukherjee and thats A.R.Rahman.Thats a bhalo gaan.Thats a baje film.Thats Shaktimaan.He can fly.Thats a Bhooter serial.....blah blah bhah...)
I was almost as tall as my mother.I had grown considerably fat because I was terribly scared of attending the once-fun dance classes.My Father was extremely proud of my water colour paintings that were stuck up on the walls on my room with cello-tape, and would show them to any guest who was kind enough to care.I was extremely proud of the short stories that I had written.[all take-offs, "inspired" by the various stories that I had read earlier.I am a born filcher].Everything was hunky dory.Except school.How I hated school.I mean I did not realize it, but I actually hated being the dorky, below average in academics,no spectacular extra curriculars to boast of either, bespectacled fat girl in the class.The fact that I was unpopular, THAT killed me.Day after day, every day.Plus no one would listen to the stories that I had to tell.[Morons, I say.These people are in my orkut friendlist now.They tell me I look good now.As if thats all that matters.Oh well, it kinda is all that matters, I suppose,sometimes]

Cut to three years thereafter.
I was in a metropolitan city.A BIG city.A big school.With nicer people.I loved Calcutta the day I set foot here.The school was good.The place gave me a kick.So did a certain bespectacled guy in the Commerce section.

I initially like the rented place and the oddball land lady.I liked the fact that there were schools exclusively for autistic kids.I liked my school too.For reasons other than good teachers and nice library of course.
Then we moved on to another rented place with an odder family of owners.
This place was the kind which had all sorts of crawly insects in abundance.There would be times when I would splat an insect sitting on my legs, thinking that its a mosquito, and it would turn out to be a cockroach.

Wait.
I was supposed to be cribbing wasn't I?
I am not cribbing am I?
This post is turning out to be the most horrendous autobiography ever, isn't it?
I just cracked a stupid joke about myself dint I?
I think I am back in my element.

ohh, just to end this flashback [as if this is a movie or something]

Cut to the present:
I am in a situation where I am really proud of orkut.:-|
and I like blogging and sugarless black coffee with a pinch of cocoa powder.
I have made up my mind about what I want to be, where I want to be and also, what the father of my kids should be like.



Here, I would like to digress and post a picture.Clicked by me.Just for the fun of it.


This pic was supposed to be the commercial break in the middle of the post.


Cut to the precise present:
I have a university practical exam tomorrow, sorry, today.In about ten hours from now.I have not studied.I was supposed to be studying, but well ahh...err..
anyway...I was mildly depressed because I don't want to give the exam tomorrow....damn! today....aah and well since I can't smoke, I think I will have some coffee.Toodles.

[In case you are wondering what the post title is about, its the cigarette.]

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Disclaimer:
If any of my family members are reading this blog, they are to put special emphasis on the blog title.They are to read it and repeat it again and again.They are to understand that I flicked it away, after just one puff and not after having the whole of it.And it tasted yucky anyway so...