Prologue

I am half dead. No, closer to fully dead. Today has been blissfully hectic, and I managed to pop a few of mums' blood cells as hoped.

Made some bucks in the process as well.

I'm pretty happy, considering the fact that I managed to take a couple of very ego-satisfying photographs. Plus I don't mind jerking off to the middle of nowhere now, because it will probably be followed by a fatiguing trip down to Colombo to sing at some Gandhi memorial thingy…

Hectic heaven!

Freedom

So the crap is done and now we're free. Fat lot the bleeding anti-climax. Woke up late and prepared the short-story, dressed and left for school. Paper was "okay" as usual. But I discovered something in the process of answering it. Writing is feeling. When the words automatically pour you realize that you're living what you're writing although you've never been there yourself. This is probably absolutely priceless. The experience of writing. Reading these words I type now would probably mean nothing to anybody else, but saying this moves me, moves me so, that the only thing more important is the experience I'm describing. The writing. I did honestly almost cry with the girl. I was there; I lived those few months with her as she lost her mother and almost lost her whole family. I was there as she fell through to the pits of depression, as she decided to fly, and as she actually did, letting go, and accepting her loss. I lived that life with her, in one hour.

I was telling you my story, the most important thing that ever happened to me.

It was real.

And I want that fucking A.

I came out the hall feeling terrible, but as usual, all those dejected looking people inspired me to smile a bit and be happy and look forward to another day of being disappointed and fighting with my mum about useless shit.

Q: Do I get my hair ironed at the salon or do I let my mother do it at home?

The answer is obvious to me, unfortunately it's obvious to my mother as well, and our opinions differ. So we argue; I want to go to the salon and get it done there, because:

1. My iron is old
   
2. My iron is burnt
   
3. The clasp-thingy is missing
   
4. I don't have the time or patience to sit around while mum messes with my hair
   
5. I don't want my mother to do my hair because I'm pissed off with her for vague reasons during this time of my life
   
6. I know Amma will say no and I wanna do something she doesn't want me to do because I wanna piss her off cus it's unfair that I'm the only person pissed off these days
   

Amma wants to do it at home because:

1. It's cheaper
   
2. She likes playing with my hair
   
3. She doesn't have to wait with me at the salon which means she can go for her stupid 'woman-to-woman' meeting
   
4. She can control what I'm doing to my hair
   
5. I don't want to do it at home
   

A: I do it myself

This seems like something of a compromise, but that's the kind of deception mothers are paid to come up with. I don't get what I want, but she gets most of what she wants. Plus she didn't go for the stupid meeting

Q: What do we get the couple?

I wanna get the little feng-shui crystal balls that light up the whole house with this unearthly brilliance in the morning when they catch the sunrise. They're cute and they're happy and they come in these little boxes so wrapping (which inevitably falls to me) is easy.

Mum wants the stupid chimes cus they sound nice (like bleeding crickets early in the morning).

I have more reasons for getting what I want but mum gets what she wants because… well, because she's mum and she's annoying.

A: Chimes – which I have to box and wrap and listen to before they're boxed and wrapped – urgh!

Tomorrow is going to be hectic, and I'm already loving it. Most of the people I met today (upon realizing it was the last day of my A/Ls) asked me what I felt like. My prompt and honest reply was "busy". Right after the paper I had to go to the studio and confirm the bookings, the times etc.. and (yes!) there was something wrong with the arrangement and somebody had got the time wrong. This meant another million calls to people who weren't answering their phones because they're sick, because their phones are on silent mode, because they're driving, because they're having legal sex for the first time and because they just can't be bothered… but anyway I loved that… walking down the road, real fast with the phone on my ear, my tie flying off and my hair in a mess. Felt like I was in charge again. After that there were a million things to buy, last minute flower-arrangements to check, make-up tips to share and snotty remarks to make at my brother who wanted to know my plans for tomorrow.

Oh I am going to love the drama tomorrow. Mum's gonna have a heart attack every few hours and I am going to boss the whole bleeding party.

I am coming back to life, real hard.

Watch out!

;)

Oh LOL and I acquired a piece of interesting information (call it gossip if you like). Dear mister I-need-to-fuck-a-bitch-with-French-manicured-nails has been dumped. THAT is why he asked me out yesterday. That is probably why he asked me out again today. Rush Hour 3 – yippee!!! (urgh!) WHY do males in general not have the volume of brain-cells necessary to understand that when you hurt a girls' pride she's never gonna be the same after that? EVEN if you're really upset about the fact that your father just had a stroke (oh! Poor baby!)?

Oh I think I'm feeling good again…

Now to fuck with my hair and sleep, dreaming dreams of a hectic home-coming…

Sunday, August 26, 2007

So what I have a very important paper tomorrow? No better reason to waste the day on a mother-daughter shopping spree which pretty much achieved the purpose – not of emptying mums' purse but fixing the atmosphere between us. I actually told her about the funny phone call last night and managed to whine her into taking me to see an angel afflicted with diarrhoea. I think I'm going to be disappointed with my English grade. I really hope not, but I can't help thinking it's very possible. I am nowhere near finishing that short-story I'm supposed to have ready for tomorrow afternoon, although I've got a rough idea of the plot. I haven't seen a past-paper since about a month ago and I won't be surprised if I'm shocked at what I will have to confront tomorrow. I'm already disappointed with myself. I've not studied enough and I'm probably gonna fuck this up, the only paper that I really worked for and that I really wanna do well.

I'm going to allow myself to be diverted again, this time by my brother. He has acquired a funny sort-of twig. He picked it up somewhere in the jungle behind our house and fashioned it so now it looks like one of those old-fashioned pistols which curve at the handle-bit. Mother-dear is vehemently against violence and so he has had to stop himself from giving into the urge to point it in my face and tell me to "surrender and take those absurd earrings off!"etc… the new entertainment is beating time with this twig-pistol on any severely vibrating surface (example: the dining table) which creates the most unpleasant sensation in the ears. Perfect when one suffers from tinnitus. Well, anyway this noise is seriously annoying and it's ruining my mood, which has been better today than the last few days.

So yes, to continue with the details of my (comparatively) wasted day:

• Wake up late
  
• Argue and read the papers over tea
  
• Refuse breakfast
  
• Set off shopping (end up baby-sitting)
  
• Get a hair-cut
  
• Encounter a retard – this actually happened 'cus my mother (having brought up two lunatics) failed to recognize the guy for the psycho he is. We're standing near the car waiting for mum to turn the key in the lock (because the stupid remote gadget thingy suddenly kinda hurled its' internal organs in various directions) and he comes and stands real close – I mean REAL close – to Amma and goes "primrose ekata yanne kohomada?". Now he looks about my age but speaks like he's half a century older, which is phoney but my mum doesn't think it's a good enough reason to quickly get in the car and rush off, so she proceeds to give him directions to the place. The guy smiles, says "thank you" and turns around and walks in the wrong direction. Amma tends to gesticulate a lot when she speaks, and this is very much more true when she's giving directions so now it's OBVIOUS that this guy is off his rocker, but SHE, being even more so calls him back and says "puthey, anik peththatai yanna oney!" so the guy smiles again and says "thank you" again and walks ten steps in the correct direction and just stands there looking at the other side of the road <sigh!>. Yes, another random event, but 'random' is my thing, so there.
  
• Get felt up a few times by homo-sexual police officers
  
• Try on a million-and-one pair of earrings
  
• Politely tell the ex-boyfriend that you don't wanna go out with him tonight because you have a paper tomorrow afternoon and you need an early night (and because he fucking fucked a goddamned bimbo that looks like something out of the Underworld in that Tim Burton cartoon!!!)
  
• Get another hair-cut
  
• Come home and try on the whole Tuesday do – jewellery, make-up included
  
• Read The Chronicles of Narnia
  
• Get random insults form your mother about the state of your freshly-shaped (after a century) eyebrows: "Oh my God! I just notice! You look like something out of a science-fiction movie child! WHAT did you do?!" "Here, let me fix that" "Aiyo! You look HORRIBLE!"
  
• Blog
  
• Enthusiastically (not) eat an excuse for bread-pudding which tastes of that acrid stuff they apply when doing the whole 're-bonding' thing
  

Today has been a relatively useless day (for the umpteenth time!) but I'm happy. I've been listening to a lot of Christmas music (it's WORK!!!) and I'm sure that helped. It's funny how the sound of bells or something kinda intoxicates you. Also crashing plastic cars one against the other and 'blowing them up' with a three-year-old who can't remember your name and calls you by your brothers' name (especially endearing when you're female and your brother is male) improves the generally low tolerance levels.

No wait, I just finished the cycle I think.

Oh and my mums' boyfriend called again.

=)