With every day slipping by, I realize that the deadline is looming before me, dangerously close, and the taste of stress seems bitter, sardonic, and nearly heart-wrenching. I remember my happy-shopping days, and happy-reading days, and happy-cookie days, and baking-days and beach-walks. Now, its just working-days, and memo-making days, and laundry-days, and infrequent lazy-days, and hanging around the campus days, and the occasional (or not so) beer-drinking days. Excruciating amounts of work, coupled with less incentive, equals over-stressed person.

:

At this juncture, everything seems uncertain and hazy, and attachments seem trivial--work seems painful, and superficiality seems delicious--it's an acquired taste, I guess, much like beer.

Much as we wouldn't want to admit it, we do change. Life, people, and circumstances, mold you, squeeze you till you asphyxiate, and then breathe new life into you, making you more different--with different beliefs and principles.

So, with a twinge of nostalgia pinching my gut, I remember the happy, 'cookie-devouring, music-video-watching, sparkly-hair-clip-wearing' teenage me. And then I revert to the unending stack of chores, and the big question that keeps popping up. "what next?" And suddenly, all those nifty squabbles over 'who-said-what-about-you' just seem trivial and stupid. The big question needs to be answered. Soon.

In the process of being exposed, I seek to retrieve the lost pieces of the puzzle--they're not really lost, you see--they're hibernating in peaceful solace, hiding from the jagged edges of the objects that are hurtled towards it.

note to self.

1. stop procrastinating.

2. meet deadlines.

3. stop being paranoid.

4. stop caring too much.

5. stop thinking.

6. watch more cartoons.

7. smile at self.

Going back. Yay.

Btw,

I just realized that I'm freaking 20. Damn.

The beginning of a new era.

I was busily languishing in luxury, my head stuck in a pool of unproductive, non-intellectual rom-coms, after a grueling semester and a not-so-peppy internship, when a cloud came crashing on my head. The moot problem. Which I had been waiting for, with bated breath, for the last 2 months. I had resigned to the fact that vacations were meant for enjoyment (only after the not-so-peppy internship, of course) and home was the haven of laziness and hard-work would only be possible in the presence of equally competitive faces, a.k.a, not-at-home (NOT that I don't enjoy that, but the cribbing just makes it sound more real, and in any case its not the work that leads to the lamenting, it is only when the work becomes an overdose). However, I am much mistaken. The era of Semester V begins even before I reach my favorite desert.
What I foresee for the next semester:

Work

More Work

Some faculty members sitting on my head

Black Instant Coffee

Travel ( a lot of it)

Attendance issues, perhaps leading to a fine, because of above-mentioned reasons

Parle G to keep me company and Cerelac to substitute meals on the 'I'm not walking to the mess' days. (and I am proud of my cerelac addiction. Its filling, nutritious and absolutely delicious, so what the heck)

Chocolate, and pastas EVERY TIME I go out.

and vodka, in limited amounts.

Please, please, dear God, let there be light.

and, let my fan-and-cooler function normally.

I shall melt.

Cutting hair short = Life changing decision.

Damn.

Who needs outside-people when you can seek comfort in yourself? There's nothing like curling up with a stack of books, and a mug of hot-chocolate, and devouring them till the crack of dawn. Cell phones should be banned.

Is it impossible in today's incredibly conservative society for a girl to love herself and to feel comfortable in her own skin without being mistaken for a bimbo who's out for some fun?! Is it so difficult to have conversations, meaning conversations.

I am sick of a lot of things.

the perfect sunday!

1. sidey nonetheless cute Tamil movie, that doesn't contain any fighting or knife-stabbing.

2. the longest, most luxurious apple-smelling body massage.

3. shopping.

4. very-vanilla latte.

5. more shopping, and amazing shoes...!!!

6. wine (and lots of it till pleasantly buzzed).

7. homemade Chinese food.

I love weekends.

Fact of life: We always desire things that we cannot have, be it that sinful chocolate cake with whipped cream and ice-cream and other delectable add-ons, or a law degree from a fancy ivy league school, which doesn't strip us off every last penny from our coffer. Our thirst persists, despite silent protests from within.

We even fall for PEOPLE that we cannot have. The bespectacled, suave guy, with broody looks, dreamy eyes, faint stubble, patrician hands, and crisp shirts. The guy with the smooth, husky voice, who likes literature and poetry and world politics and who drinks mint tea and reads travelogues in coffee shops. The guy who has probably charmed a million girls with his debonair charm and wit, and who has left behind a heap of soggy crumpled tissues.

We know what's good for us, and what's bad for us, but still, the brief sweetness on our tongue is always chosen over the bitterness and the burning.

Karela juice or chocolate milkshake? We know the goddamn answer!

things that haven't changed:

1. blogging during internship

2. facebooking during internship.

3. "dentist appointments" during internship.

4. spending 135 freakin bucks on ONE scoop of swiss-chocolate ice-cream at Movenpick. During internship, of course.

5. chocolate cravings. they just dont go!

6. Addiction to sitcoms and soppy stuff.

7. Dancing

8. Taste in music

9. Taste in books

Things that have changed:

Everything else

Things that are about to change:

Career decisions.

And the question I ask myself. WHY did I take law?

Let me rewind 3 years, go back to class XII, and apply to those colleges that offer fancy Journalism courses. Those colleges that I wrote off with much smugness and snootiness.
Let me be an author, a newsreader. Let me devour literature without dissecting it. Let me dance, sing. Let me LIVE.

why law school?

and WHY is every law firm not like Crane, Poole and Schmidt? Why is there no Alan Shore, or Denny Crane? Why is there no scotch-on-balcony conversations? Why are there mechanical associates-on-wheels robots, and on helluva task-master lawyer who tests his poor frisky interns, who haven't been TAUGHT at law school. Why does the fat judge sleep in Court? Why can't the fat-judge with the beer belly SPEAK ENGLISH? WHY are courtrooms over-crowded? WHy are interns not paid? Why are law-firms overstaffed and competitive?

Career decision needs to be rethought. And revamped.

Men-- By Maya Angelou

When I was young, I used to
Watch behind the curtains
As men walked up and down the street. Wino men, old men.
Young men sharp as mustard.
See them. Men are always
Going somewhere.
They knew I was there. Fifteen
Years old and starving for them.
Under my window, they would pauses,
Their shoulders high like the
Breasts of a young girl,
Jacket tails slapping over
Those behinds,
Men.

One day they hold you in the
Palms of their hands, gentle, as if you
Were the last raw egg in the world. Then
They tighten up. Just a little. The
First squeeze is nice. A quick hug.
Soft into your defenselessness. A little
More. The hurt begins. Wrench out a
Smile that slides around the fear. When the
Air disappears,
Your mind pops, exploding fiercely, briefly,
Like the head of a kitchen match. Shattered.
It is your juice
That runs down their legs. Staining their shoes.
When the earth rights itself again,
And taste tries to return to the tongue,
Your body has slammed shut. Forever.
No keys exist.

Then the window draws full upon
Your mind. There, just beyond
The sway of curtains, men walk.
Knowing something.
Going someplace.
But this time, I will simply
Stand and watch.

Maybe.

I can't believe that I haven't blogged in a year. I can't say that I didn't try. Maybe it's because so much has changed in the past year--I wouldn't even know where to begin.
But things are well, different, but well. Change is good, catastrophic but good, paradoxical as it sounds.

However, some things never change. A toast, to nostalgic memories, and to the things that remain the same.

It's over. The internship, vacations, fun. All over.

Back to "that place". I even look forward to it, but just a bit.

Change is good.

Monosyllables.

Less is more.

Less words, more sense. :-)

Court proceedings.

Lawyers. Lots of them.

One hot-tempered, short-tempered, cranky judge. To quote a very pissed off lawyer, "The monkey that climbed its way into the High-Court, from the lower-court."

Ass fried by cranky, deranged judge.

The law? "Vaat laa?"

Piled up cases.

AC.

Black coats (robes? The Harry Potter kind. Not at all.)

Polyester.

Smell of phenyl.

Gavel.

AIRs.

Books.

Money.

Cash.

Liquid.

Justice? No effing way.

I will NEVER work in a corporate law firm. NEVER. IPR was interesting. But Company law? Urgh. Eyuck.

To think people actually enjoy it.

Tiredness.

Sleep. Required.

Food. Required.

Sleep. Rest. Tired. Stinging eyes.

But, what do I get?

Work, more work.

I FINALLY have work to do. Some case involving Eyetex Dazzler (the cheap local brand of nail-polish and lipstick). Its to do with trademarks, which I have NO CLUE about (first year law student, remember?).

But still. Its work. Research. Work. Yaay!

The dance-show was a lot of fun. My red dress didn't fly up in the air like I anticipated, and the straps of my heels didn't snap mid-dance. My partner (though he was way, way, way older than me) didn't drop me (he only nearly did), and he twirled me just right. Salsa is fun, and if law-school and internship didn't eat up so much time, and if I could find a suave guy for a dance partner, who doesn't think that dancing is gay, and who doesn't have hygiene issues, I'd do it every damn day!

Now it's just the internship. The internship. Massive pain in the rear internship.

Why is legal drafting so boring?

WHY can't I be given "WORK" to do? Not just researching on some ridiculous pointless property dispute and the Law of Wills and the Hindu Succession Act, 1956 (which is one of the most bloody archaic laws I've ever come across, but heck, I'm a first year law student. What do I know? I live in my idyllic, rosy bubble where there is uniform civil code, AND anarchy. Contradictory, right?). What is left of my legal brain is rotting and rusting from facebooking, blogging, chatting with random people from the past that I don't intend to really catch up with, and doing other pointless non-intellectual activities between the occasional bouts of research.

And I JUST found out that this is a paid internship. I'm going to get paid for sitting in this air-conditioned office everyday for a couple of hours, using their super-fast internet connection to facebook, blog and chat with random people. I hope they don't pay me. I really hope they don't. I don't deserve this. I feel like a supreme lazy bitch. But then, I'm not lazy.

THERE IS JUST NO WORK TO DO. Nothing. Zilch. Nada. No. WORK.

The stupid court is closed, and it won't open till next week. There are these super-smart fresh-out-of-law-school associates here who keep flying about the office filing writs by the second. This place is over-staffed, and there is JUST NO WORK.

GIVE ME WORK!! Make me file a writ, type out a legal-notice. Something! I'm not that stupid. What is left of my brain is functional enough to WORK, which is why I'm interning in the first place. I'm supposed to LEARN, not learn to be a SNEAKY, LAZY BITCH MISUSING OFFICE PRIVILEGES. Urgh! I'm blinking at this fat, huge, 5000 page text on the Law of Wills researching for a case that has been pending in court for the last two decades and that is probably not scheduled for hearing until next year.

Law-school. And its numerous myths.