(If you’re new, this is the starting bit of a story I’ve decided to write about. It’s only the beginning and I doubt I’ll continue posting because it’s usually hard to keep track of stories. But, for now, this is as good as it’s going to get. LOL. Enjoy.)

I sat picking at the tiny bread crumbs that made a mess of my work place as I pondered about what Emily might be doing at that very minute. It was great that she had had the day off in over two weeks. I was happy for her. My best friend had been working her butt off for so long that even if you were slogging the weekend at the local baker’s, you’d still be happy for her. And I genuinely was happy that she had taken off time to go vacationing with her fiancé.

“MIA! A little help over here?” a familiar voice called out. My head immediately snapped back up and I looked over to a table full of rowdy looking teenagers besides who stood Claire. I raised my finger indicating I’d take a minute, but she shook her head vigorously and signaled to rush over to the table immediately.

“These boys tell me someone mixed up their order. Does that sound like you?” This wasn’t a question even though she made it seem like one. I was just about to reply when she cut me off by raising her hand. She eyed Simone who was attending the next table and asked her to fix the problem I wasn’t aware I had created.

She dragged me to the back of the store and shut the already fragile looking door that gave its usual whine before fastening itself. I looked at her all wide eyed and shrugged.

“This is the second time you’ve mixed up orders in under a week!” she yelled. And when I say yelled she did properly yell at me.

“No, I didn’t. I took their right order this time around.”

“So our customers are lying? You’re putting what was evidently your fault on to the customers because that’s an easy escape? TWO TIMES IN A WEEK?”

“If the ‘customers’ you’re talking about are those rowdy kids, then yes. They’re lying. They did it the first time. They changed their orders just when I served them. They did it this time around too.” I didn’t think I would actually snap at her like the way I did but I didn’t feel sorry after I had spoken.

“Amelia McClay, you hear me nice and clear, child. You keep up this nonsense any longer, I wont be doing the favors I’m doing for you right now. This has got to stop. You told me you wanted to earn your money. For what you’re capable of doing. And if messing up ever so often is what you’re specialized in then I don’t think I can help hold your fort up any longer.”

I stared at her in disbelief. Here was the person I was working for since over 3 years telling me that I was being irresponsible. She called me a screw up even though it wasn’t to my face and the actual words. I’d never been told I couldn’t do something so straight up. This was not my fault. I hadn’t mixed up the orders. I couldn’t have done it to the same customer. Couldn’t she see that? After all this time of working with her couldn’t she see that I was being played?

“You need to go back and apologize to them. Now.”

I sulked but I made sure she didn’t see it. There was no point now anyway. But, I had to do what she told me to. So, I yanked the door and dragged my feet as heavily as I could across the marbled floors and went straight to the table with the teenagers clinking their jugs of drinks against each other’s.

“Ho-ho. I’m guessing it’s an apology you come bearing?” I was being greeted very well. If only Claire could somehow hear what was going on.

“Hear-hear. I’ve come bearing an apology” another mimicked in a failed attempt to sound like a twelve year old girl.

I cleared my throat and gave each of them a sharp look before I started. “I’m sorry to have messed up your orders. It wont happen again.” I was willing to walk away that instant but a comment rooted me.

“How do you wish to compensate? Now? Tonight? The weekend?” The urge to turn around and throw a blow across the guy’s face was overpowering the voice in my head that told me to keep on ahead and never to turn back or tend to this table. Luckily for me, I realized keeping my job was worth more than tossing the contents of their pitchers on their miserable sly faces.

I kept on ahead without once throwing a dirty look in their direction. I climbed back on to the chair I was assigned behind the desk and got to work on the accounts I had to do for the entire week. It kept my mind off what had just happened

I was oblivious to the conventional tell tale ring of the old copper bell above the doors or that a person had been trying to get my attention for the past god-knows-how-long until Claire reappeared again and snapped me out of my trance. Of course she had to think I was day dreaming but I was not. I was in actuality doing the job I had to.

I glared behind her as she disappeared and then shifted in my seat to look up at our new customer. A suited man who didn’t look above the age of 24 with deep furrowed eyebrows with stern eyes glaring back at me and lips set in a straight line stood cocking his head to one side and waiting for me to stop gaping at him. I immediately recovered myself and blinked repeatedly.

“How can I help you?”

“I’d like a blueberry croissant with the drizzle. I’m in a hurry”


Until our time meets again,



Ahhh! It’s begun. I’ve gotten up to six pages already in less than a day. I only hope I’m up for the task. I don’t have the time to come up with an entirely new concept so I figured I’d get started with a fan fic. Like they say, baby steps, mate. Baby steps. I’ll be back with the ranting soon. :’)




In 2011, when I had just stepped into the fringes of teenage life, this sudden brainwave hit me. I wanted to write a book. I wanted to write a book about vampires and then get famous for it and then have people interview me and then wear these fancy knee length dresses and dine with the ‘who and whos’ of the Hollywood movie industry. My plans were big and they were extremely far-fetched but I still held on to all of them without letting my mind think otherwise. By the way if you’re wondering why I chose vampires, in my defense, Twilight was a pretty huge thing back then. I was just like every other hormone ridden teenager and slobbered over the books.

So, I did what I wanted to do then. What would a 8th grade girl want to do, anyway? She had all the time in the world. So, I went at it full speed. I was so caught up in the whole idea of the book that whenever you saw me, I’d be lost in my own thoughts. Thinking about ideas for the plots, the lines for them, memorizing each place that I had mentioned. I was what you would call screw loose. And I seemed to care lesser and lesser about what people thought as the whole book tore me away from reality.

The first 100 pages went great but then I started realizing, I was re-writing Twilight again just with stupider dialogues. I didn’t want to stop though. 100 pages wasn’t an easy task. I got back to the start and began editing out bits and pieces. And gradually as I got well into my final school year, the 10th grade, I had come up with something that was pretty much my own and I was fast pacing toward 200 pages. I’d write when I couldn’t type and type when I couldn’t write.

I was the crazy kid at home. And no one seemed to mind it because they thought it was only a phase. But little did they know, I was very very very very serious about what I was doing. I wanted my book published. I was all set on it and made up my mind I was going to Hollywood. Until one day, a part of my soul was lost. I exaggerated that a little but it almost felt like it had.

The system I was working on was reset to factory setting when I was in school and all the work that I had put in for 2 long years, was gone. I didn’t have a draft nor did I have any lose bits of my story. My father had warned me about this happening because the laptop had been acting up. But I took no heed and decided to continue anyway. My father tried persuading me to transfer the story to my email which I did, only parts of it which I wanted to work on. He was more bothered about the story staying than I was. But those weren’t enough to start from the ground up. All I wanted to do was get the book done and find a good way to end it. But before I could, I was left with nothing.

I’ve felt grief before in a much higher magnitude but this was something I couldn’t comprehend and come to terms with. I felt like I should just stop with everything I had going on and retreat. It was not something people understood and I didn’t speak about it. It took me a good amount of time to get over it. In a bid to get over it, I began channeling all the free time in working out. And 2013 was the year I went from FAT to NOT SO FAT. People thought I was actually working out and dieting and doing the goods and lost so much of my previous weight but that was not it. Although there was a part of me that wanted to lose weight, the loss of my book triggered my vigorous ‘shape shifting’. The one thing that I would forward to every single day was 4 o’clock. The time I’d be back from school and could sit down and type. I’d think about the scenes in school, while people were talking to me, while I was doing my business in the washrooms and while I was sleeping.

But after the day it all got deleted, and there was no way to restore it since the lappy shut down again, I gave up on the idea of writing. I detested writing after that. I hated reading novels. I hated everything that brought back memories of what I wanted to forget. But that was easier said than done. One day, I walked into our local library after probably forever and straight up at the entrance, involuntarily my sight shifted to the usual place where the book with the red apple in the hand stood displayed. It wasn’t like how they usually stacked it. The books were usually placed back to back but this time, the first part of the twilight series was standing tall and looking me straight in the eye. I didn’t know if that was how it was placed or if someone just dropped it by there without putting it back to where it belonged but there it was. A cold dead stare was all I gave as I found myself walking toward it. I asked my mom to let me borrow the book instead of her getting the book she wanted for the week. She was exasperated at the idea of me reading the same book again. But there was no stopping me. I was going to do it.

And I did. I remembered everything that led me to write the book. From the moment I turned the last page of the book I had already read about four times, the exact scenes, the lines, the places, the characters all came rushing back to me and I remembered what I had walled off for the longest time. And like usually, it drove me insane. I laughed at myself because I knew exactly what I was going to start doing the next day. I’m sure you guessed it too. (I never continued the same plot. I seeked a different one which I lost interest on after I started losing track of what I wanted to write. It wasn’t easy starting from the bottom. My writing skills were burnt exposed. I needed more motivation that just one book.)

So there. Instead of my usual posts which I restrict to about 600 words, I wanted to type out something that would take me full force back into writing. I don’t know if this post was for you or if it was for me, either way if you read it and felt what I felt, then we good! I wont be doing this much often because I have a new idea for a book I’ve just started. (Yep. The hollywood craze is back. I’ve begun from scratch again. Feels mighty heavenly.)


Until our time meets again,




I didn’t want to bore you. Like I said I haven’t figured out who this post was for. This little write up just gives me enough boost to continue writing the story I’ve already started. Thank you, by the way, if you read all the way to the end. Also, inspiration is from ‘ME BEFORE YOU by Jojo Moyes’. It’s worth your time, I promise. But for those who like movies better, that’s on it’s way too. :’)


I miss having my holidays. Mehh!

Today’s motivation: No holidays. I know. I’m hanging in there/here, whatever. But, this is what makes it all the more fun to write. I’ve had my fair share of holidays since the time I was made human. Although, I hadn’t had a holiday for a long time before November 10th, 2014. I had forgotten the feeling of leisure by the waters. (Yup, I’m a beach girl. It’s funny how I refuse to type out beach babe. Huh, weird.) Moving on, since my never ending academics refuse to cut me loose, I decided reminiscence is as good a holiday as opposed to fretting about the DESTRUCTION of my summer vacations. Hmph!

So, from the holidays I’ve had so far, I realized a thing or two about how important holidaying is for a person.


  • The off-time.

This had to top MY list because I’m known to work under pressure. So, if you want me to do something for 3 days, I’ll only really get to it on the second day, even though I fan out the process. And although that might seem like I procrastinate a lot (which I do), it works for me. I work better under pressure. So for me personally, after I’m done with whatever I had to get done, and been working hard at it (at the last minute like usual) I expect someone to spoil me and take me on a holiday. If I don’t get that, get ready for Godzilla: The Re-re-birth.


  • The unknown.

People who plan the trip might not know how this feels but, for the person/people who don’t know about where they’re going, it’s crazy. It’s almost like reaching a high with the wallop of excitement before arriving at the destination. Our ever so adroit father knows just how to keep us dizzy and eager for our holiday. The feeling of the unknown is waaaaaaay better than knowing where you’re going and not part taking in the journey because you’re only bothered about the destination. Even though I HATE travelling (with a fierce passion i.e.), the tingling amusement keeps me going strong. (Great work, pops.)


  • The bonding.

Be it a family vacation, a buddy trip or a honeymoon (You know I’m still a kid if I’m giggling at this. GOD!), holidays are universally accepted to be the primo way to band. (Now, wasn’t that funny to read. GROW UP, LADY! Also, I meant bond.) Holiday=superlative for bonding. I’m not saying all holidays are fun and great. Some are like having bears fighting around all day. I’m not addressing those group of holiday-ers. But, most times holidays are great because you’re cut off from real life (Usually. Only if you have no network on your phone, these days. Which is hardly the case.) and you have no other option than to interact with the familia/buds/your other half (Why is this funny to me? Oh my God!)


  • The pointless shopping.

I feel like the only time my dad allows me to buy absolutely redundant things is when we are on a holiday. Because, why not? Here’s how a conversation usually goes,

“What would you do with a Shrek figurine set? You’re 17 years old”, says dad.

“The question is what wouldn’t I do? I can make him a swamp in my room and we’d be shrek and donkey”, I reply.

“You don’t have to try making a swamp in your room. And this is why you have no friends”, he replies.

“Right in the feels, man. So, it’s 325 rupees. I’ll be with mom.”, I say and have a mini dance party as I watch my dad pay for a green blob of soft vinyl.

Classic example of a conversation between the pops and me. It’s all okay to buy whatever you want when you’re on a holiday. It’s accepted. I even think there’s a thing in the constitution of holidaying rights. Don’t take my word on it. I’m not quite sure. (Also, the Shrek that I bought now has no head and Fiona is naked and I don’t know where their 8 kids disappeared and I still sleep with Donkey and his dronkeys. If you don’t get all my Shrek references, WATCH THE GODDAMN MOVIE. What are you doing with your life, child?)


So, there. Those were the things I could compile of what holidays really mean to me. Even though, like I previously mentioned, I HATE travelling, with the right people the loathing tones down a notch. (Just a notch because the minute I puke-which is EVERY SINGLE TIME I GO ON A HOLIDAY- the resentment hits me hard.) I might go off like crazy cussing everything around me but in the end, I’ll always settle down. It’ll be a ball travelling with me, I swear. :’D


Until our time meets again,




If you’re like I am and hate the travelling part of the journey and get motion sickness very, very, very, very easily, passing out helps. Just hit yourself in the head or get someone to do it and zonk out. You’re welcome! :’D


I told you I’d be back, yesterday. I always keep my word. (If you know me, I never keep my word. But, today I decided I’d do the impossible. Because YOLO. Okay! I’m never saying that again.)

Today’s motivation: A ball of hair. So, I need some real time to take off and rant. Because, personally, I’m a much sweeter person when I’m crazy. (Which is usually.) Anyway, moving on, I thought why don’t I dig up something that really annoys me and work it out. Try to find why it bugs me. And I did do that but then halfway through I realized, I’m not crazy to hate these things. These are actually really annoyingly gross things that people do. So, I came back on here and decided, heck, I’m going to write about my pet peeves. (I know you can already feel me going for the kill with this one.)

Leggo. (I feel like I should apologize for the constant leggo, but who’s a rebel? ME.)

1) Flicking boogers.
I know I’ve done it when I was younger. I know I’ve made balls and stuck them on walls. (I don’t lie okay? I’m honest here. More so than in real life.) Anyway, just because I did it doesn’t mean I can stand to see you do it. If you’re below the age of 11, then maybe I can let it slide. But if you’re already growing ‘watermelons’ and a ‘pair’ in the front yard, I expect some decency. Don’t try to find treasure in your nose and stuff all five fingers and a toe into your nostril. And if you do find anything in the bountiness your nose offered, don’t start playing bombing the city and flick them all over the place. Go home and calmly assort them into size groups and then deal with gravity. (Still helps after 17 years. Okay, moving on. Don’t try to decipher that.)

2) Not replying when I reply.
I’ll have people calling me a 100 times in a day but I’ll never pick up the call if I don’t feel like it. But when I do feel like knowing what happened after 350 calls, I get no reply. So now I’m stuck here wondering what happened. Was the person in danger? Did the person run into a pole while dialing for the 351th time and is battling between thinking straight and not thinking at all. (By this I mean concussions.) Or, if my mom calls at me from another room and when I yell back, I get no answer. (I know this happens to aaaaall of us.) So I sit there yelling what what what what like as if I’m set on repeat and retard. (If you’re my neighbor and reading this, now you know why I yell WHAT 70 times a day. I’m glad that’s in the clear now.)

3) Inappropriate Touchers.
These are the class of people who keep to themselves. But then, how exactly are they inappropriate touchers if they keep to themselves, you may wonder? Wonder. No. more! (I had to say that. It might help if you read it in a super voice.) These people are the ones who will shamelessly scratch their buttocks, their front yard, under the ‘cantaloupes’ and every place considered inappropriate-to-scratch-in-public imaginable. My personal best is the wedgie. People trying to free their fabric from in between the crack is in itself a show. The positions they get into to make it seem inconspicuous is literally #entertainment. (I probably shouldn’t observe people much. But life’s too little to be apologetic. :’D)

4) Running nails on the chalk board on purpose.
There’s a special place in hell for you people and it’s called, ‘No nails’. People who enjoy watching others troubled by this noise are the same ones who as kids wanted to rat on you wearing rainbow undies to school. (Not saying that I wore rainbow undies. Mine were just really VIBGYOR.) They just want to see the world suffer. So the best way is to take your nails, the ones you obviously didn’t care about enough, and run them down a chalk board. Because who doesn’t like the sound of naasty?!

5) People who take double the time you took to reply.
These are the types of people who will wait an entire day to reply just to put it across that they have their own lives going on. If, mistakingly you take two seconds to reply, this person will purposefully take an eternity to reply back to a ‘what’s up with you?’ message. Why? Because, god alone knows! Honestly, I don’t understand how a person replying to a message tells anyone about what they’re doing. You might be taking a dump and not reply to a message for 35 minutes (My average dump time, in case you were wondering. I feel like we’re starting to grow closer. How warm.) but people will just automatically assume you had someone over for tea, went to the Netherlands, rode a hump back AND visited the zoo with the Queen. So, to get back at you for not taking time off to reply, they take a year and a half to reply to your next message. (Just great.)

So, there. These are things that bother me. I have a couple hundred more but I figured I’ll save them for some other time. And besides, I don’t want you thinking I’m a person who hates everything. (Which I am but I don’t want you thinking that. Or thinking. At all.)

Until our time meets again,


Its not that I don’t like people and the tiny cute little things (not cute) they do. It’s just that I have zero tolerance to people and the cute little things (not cute) they do. Cheers.


I’ve been away for a while so I’m still a little off my game. I’ll be back with better stuff in some time.

Today’s motivation: SnapChat. I’m just like any other teenager, okay? So, my phone is a dump yard with all social apps (because honestly, I’m much better off communicating from behind a screen as opposed to real-time chatting. I’m not a serial killer, I swear.) I’m not an app hoarder and don’t download games and all that shiz because I want my phone running smooth without apps getting in the work way of the others. And I like my battery intact at least for a good three hours, thank you very much. So the only kinds of apps I have are the very few utterly famous ones that every person seems to have now. (I’m having language issues today. Apologies.)

Getting back to the topic at hand, SnapChat has been one such app. I’ve been on this platform for under a year (I’d say 10 months now) and still haven’t figured out the works of it (YAY!) but I’m better than most of my friends and I take pride in it nevertheless. So, since I was on SnapChat relatively before any of my other friends were, I had the opportunity to watch them ‘grow’. So, these are the types of people I’ve seen on SnapChat.

Leggo.( I can’t do anything about the leggo. I’m too attached to let it gooooo -that’s a Frozen reference BTW. Look over it if you hate it.)

  • The silent snappers.

I got to admit, I was one of these people when I first started off. It was terrible because I hardly followed anyone and I’d have just three stories on my list and I’d just watch them over and over again (yep, I have a zero social life situation). But, ever since I got the hang of it, I’ve been hating people who just watch my story but don’t have any of their own. I mean I’m still going to complain everyone’s story is booooring but it’s nice to see you at least have something going on. If you never snap, the first thing I think is you’re a serial killer who lives in a box and watches everyone’s snap story and then laughs demonically. You is just creepy to me, honestly.


  • The one second snapper.

(Guilty.)These type of snappers are the ones whose story is 5 seconds long with 5 pictures. And the captions are a mile long. So you got only one second to read ‘Such a good day at Czechoslovakia.’ By the time I’m done with ‘such’, the picture is gone. I personally hate this. I’m a person who likes to take time judging people. HOW DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO THAT IN A SECOND? So I’m going to have to keep assaulting my screen for a good 30 seconds to watch your story over and over again. I hope you’re happy that my screen spazzed out after that.


  • The Leonardo Da Vinci snapper.

This person will literally draw and doodle things on any picture and it’s not even ‘art’. It doesn’t have to make sense. Even if there are four people with exceptionally well done makeup, guess who’s without a green mustache and a purple toupee? NO ONE. There are stars all over the bottom. Frogs in the sky. Glasses on someone’s mouth and a random zzzz written across someone’s chest. Or my favorite one is people who snap random people and draw bikinis and drawers on top of their clothes. These are the ones I love. (Only if the bikini top isn’t on the shoulder blades. And the drawers aren’t on the stomach. If so, then you need some classes, bro.)


  • The serial screengrabber.

I can’t even….. this person probably has my entire puberty process in their screenshot folder (Jk.)But, without a shadow of a doubt I can tell you that their screenshot folder thingy is so much more full than their actual camera roll. (This is why I have trust issues.) When I put a timer on my snaps and when I only keep it for three seconds, I WANT YOU TO RESPECT THOSE THREE SECONDS. You can ogle only for those three seconds and in case you couldn’t, life’s unfair, sister/brother. Get over it. Even though I amn’t doing anything wrong, the moment I know you’ve taken a screenshot, I feel like you have the evidence for the crime I never committed. Straight up creepy.


  • The filter freak.

Do I even have to? Snapchat comes up with new filters every single day (the horror is real) so every single day there is this one person who uses all the 12/13 filters. And it’s usually the damn puppy face. If the filter worked perfectly fine every time, then I’d stand it for a while but it’s usually people who keep raising their eyebrows and opening their mouths like idiots and nothing even happens. So after that they just straight up move their face muscles in ways I didn’t know the human face could be moved. (This is the reason why I have a weird face. Not that I was actually born a beaver. :’D)


And then there’s me as a snapper. Let’s not go there. So, I hope you guys liked it. If you didn’t, you know what people say, I didn’t wake up to please you. (See? I told you I’m a very sweet person really!) Okay that’s probably not what everyone says. But let’s just go with it.


Until our time meets again,




If you don’t have SnapChat, DO IT! DOWNLOAD IT! USE IT! Maybe you can turn into Picasso with all the doodling. You can thank me later then. Cheers.

THINGS YOU’LL FIND YOURSELF DOING. (I think we’ve already established that I’m equally bad at titling.)

I didn’t plan on doing this today but since I was feeling out of sorts (and needed to amuse myself), I’M BACK!

Today’s motivation: Inspiration (How else could I try to sound deep then?) What I wanted to say was I didn’t have any motivation today. But what drove me to think about writing today was SUNDAY! In all honesty, I’ve tricked my mind into thinking Sunday is a good day but in reality it’s a pre Monday. Almost like a Monday. Let’s just call it a Monday sans 3% nastiness.

So today I wanted to let loose and here’s how I achieved it and have been achieving it since the past week because let’s be real here, I haven’t been doing ANYTHING productive lately but definitely feeling the blues (and I still wonder why). Trust me, I’m not going to be boring because I was born pha-bu-lus.


1)Scribbling/giving definitive proof that you can’t draw for nuts.

This is normal, okay? Scribbling doesn’t mean you just can’t stop moving your hands. What it means on a deeper level is, you just can’t stop moving them. How does it help though? You can draw people you hate (if you’re bad at drawing then you can draw worse pictures of them without even having to try) and then stab those pictures (trust me, it’s not immature). Let me tell you the feel.  It’s like the feeling you get once you’re done with your business in the washroom when you urgently needed to use it. #thefeels.

2)Singing like you’re trying to communicate with a whale.

In case you sound like a frog with a sore throat, it’s for the best, hon. The louder and more terrible you sound, the more liberated you feel. (I can’t tell the same about the people around you but for you, I promise it’ll feel amazing.) How does this help though? When you yell out the lyrics which aren’t part of the song, it’s obvious you’re making up stuff that you want to scream and get rid of. How is this not better than keeping everything bottled inside and losing yourself everyday little by little. (I’d choose scream singing over crying ANYDAY. I don’t see why you can’t communicate with the people of Ghana from India by screaming the message at them. Result: Not so amazing vocals BUT zero phone bills.)

3)Exercising aka ripping the one gym shorts you were hoping to use when you hit the gym in 2055.

Exercising doesn’t have to mean tying a ponytail with your feet 4000 times. Exercising for me means moving my body until every single one of my bones feel like liquid and then waking up the next morning and realizing the parts of your body which you didn’t know could hurt (like your eyelashes). How do I achieve it? Try jumping like crazy. How does it help? You’re going to feel tired, I won’t lie to you. You might breakdown in between, still not going to lie to you. But, once you’re done focusing on trying to work yourself, you’ll be ready to kick some butt. (Also, you can hit the gym. It might not be a pretty sight at first but it’ll only go uphill from there.)


When I say this I don’t mean devouring everything in sight. Some people, and it is scientifically proven, find relief in eating. (Like moi). So, if you’re one of them then you already know where to go and what to do if you’re feeling down but if you’re not one of those big foodies and don’t revert back to food, then eating might not help. But how do you know you’re one among the problem eaters without having tried before? Here’s how. If something hits you hard in life and the first you do is get something to eat, there that’s enough. More than enough to tell you how you channel your feelings. (Talk about being obvious.)


Now this is a form of exercising but the reason I made it a different point was because, being a person who LOVES dance, I had to do this justice. And here’s how dance helps me. Anger through contemporary is my ish. (Although, the only contemporary I do is quarter of a split and half a turn for 3.5 minutes.) The magnitude of satisfaction it gives is incomparable. But then again speaking for the non-dancers, let me tell you why you should do it anyway. The atrocious dancing is mind numbing itself. You don’t need anything else entertainmentwise. If you got a mirror to see yourself dancing, then you’re all good.

So there, those were the things I could think of to bust your stress/disappointment/anxiety/whatever it is. The reason why it all involves crazy ideas is because a secure person is a person who can laugh at himself/herself. And if you’re comfortable doing a headstand twerk and feeling the music, I cannot imagine the level of exhilaration you’ve reached. All power to you, darlin’.


Until our time meets again,




Eat, dance, scream, love and then scream again. The only type of limits are the ones you draw yourself. If you want to spontaneously eat an apple, do it. (That came from nowhere but randomness has already been established as being my thing. Just go with it.)


The seventh post just had to be special, right? (What with it being seventh and all. Jk)

Today’s motivation: Messaging Apps. So, I got to speak to some of my school friends yesterday over messaging and let me tell you, it was the best thing ever. Now its not that I haven’t spoken to them since god created light or anything (but not going to lie, it kinda felt that long). So, getting back, that got me thinking about why I couldn’t write about friends. Because what is more important than friends anyway (besides pizza. Duh!)

So, here are the types of friends I have or I am/been or seen elsewhere. (I’m amaze BTW. Just saying.)


  • The shoulder to cry on.

If this doesn’t speak volumes already, do you even English, bro? (I do. Evidently because the grammar on that line is so bomb.) So these are the type of friends that got your back no matter what. When I say got your back I don’t mean the ‘I’m going to fight the whole world for you’ type of a person but the person who doesn’t have to really care about what’s going on but will always listen to you bawl your eyes out and talk about how a personal size basic cheese pizza is now 195 rupees when you’re broke (THE HORROR). They may not stand up for you but they’ll always be there to catch you when you need them. (I don’t know how to describe them better. Apologies.)


  • The shopper.

Holy lard, these are danger. When I say danger I mean exactly what danger means. This person will never get enough of what a store has to offer. They are always on the lookout for better things but end up buying EVERYTHING that they’re NOT looking for. And who accompanies them? WE! Who wants to strangle them with the phancy blue belt they just bought? WE! For all you know, they might have just come shopping for ONE sock but what they end up leaving with is a Gucci bag, three dresses, four shoes to go with the three dresses they bought, seven necklaces, about a couple hundred rings and if they’re crazy, a pig too.


  • The coach. (aka the understanding one.)

This speaks for itself as well. But then again, let’s elaborate because you know you want to know what I think (because I’m such a good writer. Such a good one. Such a good good one. See what I’m doing here?) So anyway, this person has the best opinions on things, the best replies to the horseshit that you come up with and the best person to call when you need someone to tell you what to reply back to a person because this friend is the one who knows everything. (Like master oogway! They just know stuff. Like the universe! Okay, I’ll stop comparing now.)


  • The risk taker. (Self proclaimed)

The best kind of people to associate with (unless they’re some real nasty cuckoos). These are the type of friends that allow you to see life in a different way. By different I mean from the peak of the alps. Because they don’t care what happens they just wanna fun. And their motto in life? YOLO. You only lie once. (I didn’t make a mistake. I meant lie.) Lemme explain why? You can’t tell your mom you’re going to go sliding in Niagara falls because you’re stopid but what you will tell her is that you’re going to swim in a river. The next minute, you’re legit sliding down the rocks in Niagara. So you only lie once because you know when you get back, your mom, her sister, her great grandfather, his uncle, Gandhi, Prithviraj Chauhan and Hitler are going to skin you alive. (So there. Just when you thought I couldn’t come up with something utterly insensible.)

  • The foodie!

Did you honestly think I was going to forget this? Pfft! Do we even know each other? This person (I can rightfully include myself in this category because just because) has only one goal in life. TO EAT EVERY BURGER EVER MADE! (It’s not impossible, okay?) But, truthfully, this person is the reason you eat every 45 minutes whenever you’re out. This friend can’t keep his/her hands off of anything that is edible. One hour without food is hell for him/her. Nevertheless, coming to the pros of having this friend is, YOU’RE NEVER HUNGRY! You just have food around you at all times.


So, there! Those were the best types of friends I have. They’re amazing. Having them is like having vanilla ice cream with mango drizzle. (In case you ever get stuck about what to get me for my birthday, now you know *wink*.  Smooth, aren’t I?) Also, without that shopper friend of mine, I’d be still wearing rainbow pants. (They never went out of style tho) So, what I’m trying to get at is I’m grateful for every single one of these people that made the cuckoo I am. 😀 (Although, the sass is all mine.)


Until our time meets again,




I usually add a little something in the bottom for you and this time it’s this,

GO WATCH F.R.I.E.N.D.S. (And that was the best thing I could come up with.)