Non-Sprout

Life is so annoyingly crappy at times, it makes me so sick that I feel like going out and killing someone’s cat. And when life begins to get slightly crappy, everything else that doesn’t need to contribute goes ahead and makes a million dollar donation to make it crappier!

I don’t know what crappy exactly means. Its some philosophy of something I made up in my head. My philosophies make sense to three people in this whole wide world; I, me and myself. Yes they are three people, three people the world gives a damn about and I love the most. I wasn’t a complete “me” freak since the time I was born. I was a nice little helpful butterfly, flitting around the place, being nice to people. At that time I actually believed that good things always happen to good people. Good things began happening to me only when I went rotten.

People come up with a million philosophies a year, I could come up with a million philosophies a second. The only difference is, that their philosophies make sense to 1/5th of the planet, and then, 1/5th of that 1/5th of the planet ends up including 1/9th of the influential part of the planet, and so that lucky fool ends up becoming rich overnight. On the other hand, 2/3rd of myself begins to contradict the 1/3rd of myself that came up with some philosophy. In short, my philosophies aren’t worth any pondering.

Now that I’m done with the introduction, and I’m sure you’ve managed to guess what state of mind I am in at the moment. I suppose I can start raving and ranting about how miserable my life is, and justify my becoming a serial killer in the future.

I read “Catcher in the Rye” the other day, I haven’t finished it yet, but it’s a good book. Its about this boy, Holden Caulfield who flunks in a hell lotta subjects (except for English) and gets kicked out of school. Instead of heading home like all good ducklings do, he decides to take a little tour around the city. The book is mostly about his journey and the people he meets along the way, but what caught my attention was this one word – “phony”. Holden hates phonies and keeps criticizing them whenever possible, but ends up dating one crappy female named Sally, who gets all sentimental over nonsense.
I remember this one time he tells her that she’s a pain in the ass and she begins to cry tank fulls (yeah tank fulls not bucket fulls. Man! Can she cry!) I’d have punched the guy in his nose, emptied a glass of milkshake on his head and stormed off. But she just cries. Duh!

Fake people with fake laughs and smile and care and concern make me sick to the last intestine. Guys aren’t too fake, well most guys I’ve met are too dumb to be fake. But girls! Oh my! I suppose we’re just born talented. We can make a vulture believe it’s a swan for goodness sake. We don’t usually do it, we do it when there’s a very good reason, say loads of gifts, expensive parties, bike rides, blah and blah and blah.

That explains why I never managed to get a guy in college. They loved the girls who’d make them feel like Tom Cruise or Ben Affleck or even Hritick Roshan. If I was a guy and someone called me Hritik Roshan, I’d burn her alive and get a plastic surgery done (on me ofcourse). But the guys really fell for that stuff. Infact, they still do. Like yesterday, I was out with my usual group, and my ultra glamorous friend shows up wearing ultra glamorous clothes and with her hair left so that she looks like some hot hotty, whatever that means, and the guys suddenly forget that I even existed. I’m not heart broken or anything, but their stupidity never fails to amaze (and amuse) me.

Beauty and brains never go hand in hand. Dumb girls are always gorgeous, and the sensible ones walk around looking like “behenjis” or half dead zombie like creatures, but there are a few exceptions, like Sushmita Sen. Now she’s all brain and a hell lotta beauty. But I’m not dumb, and I’m not an exception either, I’m on my way to the zombie look, but that may take a while. The major hurdle between me and the zombie look is parents. YES! Parents. My mom (like all other moms) wants me to look pretty in pink and lace and weird girlie dresses. My dad desperately wants me to wear salwars. And I wanna look half dead.

I have successfully managed to take another topic off track, and I’m feeling much better so my raving and ranting ends here.

In the end, I’d like to thank my glamorous friend for being such a bitch, and the guys of my group for being her motivation of bitchyness. I’d also like to thank L’Oreal for creating a wonderful haircolor so that she can show off. I’d like to thank my mom for making me wear weird clothes yesterday, God for bad weather and Microsoft Corporation for creating Microsoft Word so that I can write cranky stuff (with automatic spell check) till kingdom come. Hope your day goes better than mine. Ciao  :)