Hellogoodbye.

I'm bored.

New blog:
http://www.brakingjuggernaut.blogspot.com/

See you there. I hope.
x)

Brandon Boyd is ridiculously appealing.

What?
He is!

Anyway.
I have decided to put to rest rumours about my apparent death by typing off one of those inconsequential, meaningless blog entries about my inconsequential, meaningless life. I hope this assuages all your fears, especially whoever it is that has been mailing every alternate day to enquire about my health?!

I'm flattered and everything, but really, guardedsk8r144, it's suffocating.


So.. hi.

Well, my exams are approaching (yet again) and I haven't opened my books (yet again).
I'm actually terrified I might flunk something.

Like Hindi, for example. Which, apparently, has progressed so quickly, that I have been left far, far behind with my half baked knowledge of bloody French.

Or maybe I'm just dull, so I forget stuff fast.

Case in point: national languages.


The good thing about study leave, though, is that it leaves you with a sudden, unexpected sort of freedom to do whatever you like - i.e. if you manage to mute that obscenely annoying voice at the back of your head which keeps reminding you of idiotic things like responsibility towards education, etc.

The bad thing is, in my case, that freedom translates to plenty of contemplation time.

And this week's theme for consideration has been rather sleep - snatching and overall misery inducing.

Which brings me to another point.

It seems that the days of simplicity have long kicked the bucket.

It’s almost as if things have to appear convoluted and difficult to understand to pique our erratic interest – Like if it isn’t worth complaining about, it isn’t worth dealing with or something.

Seriously.


Have we become so cynical and contemptuous of contentment that we purposely clutter our lives, just so that we have something to carp about?

Is it merely boredom that is leading us into this quagmire of endless self created, frivolous complexities?

Or could it possibly be that the idea of cynicism itself has been so greatly romanticized over the years that with every step traversed, we find ourselves curbing our optimism for fear of becoming outdated?

Somewhere in between misanthropes and romantics, is firmly lodged the mother of all identity crises – the faction of the ‘Neo – Cynic’.

Ever tried walking in the dark?

Blindfolded?

Neither have I, but I imagine that this is close to what that must feel like.

I also think that perhaps it is time to stop the sardonic whining and actually open up a text book.
It keeps slipping my mind that they weren’t purchased merely for their ornamental significance.

Or maybe I should just try to get some sleep, it's almost 1 am.

Good grief, I've become one of those people who spouts on openly about their lives in public.
What next?
Gossip Girl references?

*Clutter*

Ahem.
Bye.

Featherweight.

You know those days when you feel like... breaking things?

Everything?

I'm just saying it's too bad houses aren't made of glass.

Wordless. Literally.

I can't write.
That's that.
I'm sorry.
I give up.

I tried, I really did.
But it won't happen.
Blame it on the flu or the Government or whatever.

Goodbye mes amigos preciosa(s).
I will attempt to be back soon and violate other foreign languages by my poor knowledge of their technicalities.

Sigh.