Blab.

There's a new girly.
She seems hot.
...appears to have some sort of knowledge of Latin.

She asked about Literature and Books.

So, I blabbed:

Oh, shit.
She's mentioned my name, and now I feel the pressure to write something pretentious about my reading habits.
Truth is, I hated reading, words, English etc until I was 16.
My English wasn't even comprehensible until I was in Year 2, and it was only in Year 7 that I learnt that you can get improper and proper English.

My older sister was a Childhood Poet.
She put me to shame.
Pages and pages of rhymes and anecdotes...
She moved onto fictitious stories of a Dog named Lottie,
and eventually autobiographical accounts of how she spent New Years' Eve '94.
She hadn't even seen her 8th birthday.
She was the English Queen, so I shunned it all....
and I regret it.

Because, it turns out, I love to read.

Obviously, I have so much to read, yet, and haven't touched upon nearly all the books mentioned here....
but I do love Etymology.

Words are my world.
Technically, they're my thought carriers...
but I do love them.
As I've been slowly uncovering this reality, my writing has improved.

Gone are the days of trying to rhyme Orange with the Earl of Borange, ahem; poetry and creative writing is not about the order of the words you choose...
It is all about the words.

This all means Jack Shit, though, because I waste my time contemplating whether Aliens are invading my city because of the flashes of lights that I see, time to time...

Sometimes, rambling makes the most poetic sense.

Words.

http://but-a-test.livejournal.com/
ManGrot's Blog.

...full of words.

http://but-a-test.livejournal.com/11209.html
The words speak to the alien that lives in my head.

...'Cause when I pack my bags, it won't be for Vacation.

So, Wednesday morning, I had a chat with Quasi.
The kind that we used to have.
The Deep Shit.

He feels that my family are holding me back.
He's not the first person to say that.
...but he's the first person I've taken seriously about it all.

It's got me thinking.
When's the right time?
When do I say, I'm not the person you think you know... I've been living a different life for several years... I have no intention of following the life plan that you hope, wish and pray for...
When do I mention that I have no interest in all the things that they push me towards...?
How do I build up that courage...?

Knowing fully well that there's a good chance it'll go belly up, and I'll move further away from where I want to be.

Today, whilst washing up, it hit me.
I can't carry it on with Quasi.
No matter how long I wait, it's not going to happen.

So, I should forget, right?
I should work towards pleasing the Parents.
Atleast, calm one part of my life...
Makes a bit of sense.

...but, I can't give up Ness.
I've spent the past three years building up Ness.
Creating the person who fits me best.
Growing into the mould.
More than that, I've spent the past five years working on myself...
Finding out who I am, what I believe, what I don't believe, when I feel happy, when I feel sad...
...Am I supposed to give all that away?
Go back to the girl who wears fleeces and has no opinion on anything?

Do I forget my desires?
My dreams to live in an apartment in a Cosmopolitan city... My dreams to work in Event Management... My dreams to live in New Zealand, go for a Yoga retreat in the South of Spain, learn to swim properly, take part in a musical of some sort, focus on my writing, work at a Summer Camp in America... and so many more smaller, unimportant dreams, like stay out until early morning and not worry about whether I should find a place other than my bed to sleep in, 'cause it's too late...
or, even, just spend the day out and not have anyone to answer to...

What about my desires as a girl?
The wishes, hopes and prayers that every girl has...
I don't want to get married...
Unless, it's with the right person.
That means Non-Bengali, and Non-Muslim.

I mentioned the other day, Quasi was talking about our possible children.
I woke up.
For so long, I've been so blasé about these things.
I don't want to get married, I don't want children, I don't care if I never fall in love, I don't want or need a family of my own...
I do.
I really do.
...but not how it's been written for me.

I wish there could be some compromise, where we'd be both happy...
But, the only compromises that I can think of, involve me bending over backwards and being unhappy, just so that they're not sad.
I can't ever make them happy, so I'm not even going to try anymore.

I'm rambling.
None of this is planned, at all.
...Free Thoughts.

Which is why, I can't remember what was said on Wednesday morning much.

I just know that I can't just up and leave, because my family are holding me back.
A day's going to come, when I'll just pack my bags... and it won't be for a holiday.

Self Explanatory.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bmnJHSESFHg

Peaks and Troughs...

The past two days have been the first time I haven't had to worry about work (much), or family.
I've been able to be myself, and have fun for myself.

Yes. I saw The HunchBack.
I spent the night with him... but that's not the only reason for my being ever so happy.

I met up with a few other people.
...and I loved their company.
Tuesday, I was treated to Pizza Express, a walk down South Bank, and I was taken to Tate Modern... which I was a bit disappointed by, there weren't so many things that caught my attention, and even then, there weren't many pieces that were interesting or could be interpreted in a fun way.
But, hey, I saw a hairy muff.
That's got to say something!

Alchi was absolutely lovely.
I genuinely enjoyed his company, and didn't have evil thoughts in my head.
Not like when I met up with KbW on Wednesday morning... I was regretting asking him to meet me.
It pissed me off that he was still trying it on, when I was crying into his shoulder.
Yea.

Oh, before I forget.
...because I will.
I saw a Chandler/Matthew Perry Look A Like.
I also saw Mme. Douglas.
She didn't know who I was.
She obviously hates me. I remembered on my way home that she used to give us a months' worth of work to do in one night.
I never used to do them well.

I also went to the o2...
Watched a movie, watched people, watched myself dance...
I really enjoyed myself.
Ma protegé was absolutely amazing. She reminds me of my younger self so much.
But, with self-belief, determination and a direction.

...and yes, seeing the HunchBack was beautiful.
We went for Maki, Ice Creams and a walk under the London Eye...
Even someone like me, who hates Romance, appreciated the beauty of being with someone you have feelings for in the middle of a buzzing crowd, music of so many different styles, people of diferent ages, walks of life etc... Yet, for the first time, you don't people watch.
You're so into what's going on with you.

I hardly slept.
Well, whenever I did finally manage to drift off, I'd feel him between my legs again.
I'm not complaining, though; it was Heaven.
For a few hours, I was free.
I had no neurotic thoughts, no worries, no doubts... I wasn't thinking in the past or the future.
I was just being in the moment.
...and I experienced that moment with Quasi.

We discussed what we'd name our child if I fell pregnant. We discussed what options I would have, and that we should run away and get married.
All nothing but talk...
But, for a girl like me, the butterflies in my tummy just wouldn't settle.
Resulting in my not being able to stomach breakfast.

I told him about my OD story.
...it took everything in me not to cry and break down in his arms.
He told me how he had faith in me, and how he saw big things in store, if only I put my enthusiasm and love into whatever I do.
I have friends who say I'm capable of grand things, but it's all a bit superficial when people say thigns like that.
Even if it is Kenan.
Maybe I'm wearing Rose Coloured Sparkly Shades, but Quasi's conviction seemed genuine and heartfelt.

I spent most of Wednesday weeping.
..because I realised I still had hope.

I called him when I got home, to let him know I wasn't abducted by aliens.
He was out grabbing a bite to eat, and said he'd call later.
He did.
I was half asleep.
He turned cold.

It doesn't help when people like Grumpster and Pop are upset that you forgot to even think of them.
...and they don't even want to hear your apology, they just want you to suffer.
Well, congratulations.

An incredible high ended with a sharp low.

Pussy

Apparently, I ended it with The HunchBack a few days before my birthday.

...Which is why I'm still up at 1.45 am on a Tuesday morning, hoping that by some form of telepathic wizardry, he'll know that I just want to... well talk.
to him.
..and be in his company.

Yes.
I am a girl.
I think about cuddles, and sweet nothings.
I have tears in my eyes, yet I feel that I have nothing substantial to cry about.

I don't even know whether he still has feelings.
for Ness.

Is it right to get so worked up over an almost relationship?

Who am I kidding when I talk about our goings on?
Apart from me, clearly, obsessing about him, there's not much to it.
Is there?

I hate it.
I build myself up like this everytime.
I tell myself that I should let it go.
Not let it affect me.
If we fuck, we fuck.
That's it.
Pure Fuckage.

I toughen myself up, become that confident girl who carries on carrying on.
I have fun, and become that girl who oozes contagious enthusiasm.

...Then out of nowhere, he pops up again.
and I'm a girl, again.

...and I can't even tell him about these thoughts, the frustration that I have no idea what's going on.
I don't know whether to say I like him, or lust him.
The fact that I still don't know the basics about him, yet I've told him more than anyone could find out even if they were stalking me.

I know I always mention the Sex.
Yes, I love it with him.
...but I don't just miss that.

It's never been about Sex.
That was just my cover up.
I am a stupid girl, with a poonani and bastard feelings.

I remember how easy it was to start talking to him.
It was like rearranging your room, and sleeping in a new corner for the first night.
Safe, but, exciting.
We probably spent four months texting back and forth, before we did anything.
Then Summer stole him away... and I got him back that Autumn.
It was light and fun for two years.
The dynamics changed during Christmas.
Feelings were mentioned, and things weren't so carefree anymore.

WhirlWind.
I got caught up in the silent promises that were never spoken.
The assurance that made me take the first step to facing my fear of heights, the sincerity of his condolences...
Fuck it, even the amount of time he spent devoted to making me comfortable, rather than forcing himself upon me...

...and everytime I yearn for him and then realise that there's nothing, I feel like Cameron Diaz in The Sweetest Thing.
The scene after she finds out, that after travelling over three hours to find the guy she went crazy for after meeting him for ten minutes, and just screams.
I feel like that.
Only, I don't have a suitable time nor place for it.

Pop asks all the time about the other guys.
KbW and Taylor... and to some extent the guy who calls me Nuno...
They don't do anything for me.
I need 'Modo, if I want to.

...pathetic.

Sunday is Family Day...

So, for most people, Sunday is the day to spend with your family, and do stuff.
Not mine.
Usually, the parents go out after then wake up and have breakfast, they usually take the SheDevil with them.
The older sister makes her plans, and I remain at home with Little One.

So, the Sunday just gone has left me feeling very weird.
I woke up to get ready for a wedding.
...I must say, as much as I remind myself of Narcissus, I genuinely do think I looked beautiful on Sunday.
Figures, the day you wear your mother's sari, and not your own BubbleGum clothes, you feel like a Goddess.
So, we went to the Wedding, ate, mingled, took pictures.
The Dog, the Baby, Natiska and my Twin were there.
What is it with Gujjus coming to Bengali weddings?!
I should've done a Kenan and been more confident... but that always ends up in self doubt, leading to me looking in pain...
So, I just went and made small talk.
I hello and a smile is surely better than a full on air smooch and fake pictures...

Father, once again, made us leave before the ceremony even took place, just like NoorJahan's wedding.
We had a tag along fmaily who wanted to go to the Mela near our house, so they were going to make a pitstop and pray at ours.
Usually after weddings, us siters get together to take pictures.
We couldn't 'cause it was Bin Laden's family who wanted to use our house.
It's not that I hate extremists, I think they're actually trying harder than the moderates to follow their religion... It's just they're so fucking awkward!
You make small talk, and they point out several sins in your one sentence.

So, they come, they see the mess, and they conquer our kitchen and bathroom.
I, in the middle of it, have a lightening speed tidy up, find some gaviscon for the smoker "uncle" and set the prayer mats for everyone, all whilst in the sari and heels...
I think that deserves Kudos.

Uncle tells Little One about the Mela.
Little One wants to go.
FFS.
So, I get out of my sari, take my slap off, and chuck my jeans on.
Yea, I was slumming it.
My parents went along, too.
So, our two families, minus the evil sisters, went along to an Islamic Mela...
Little One and I ditched them as soon as we got in, but they wouldn't leave us alone.
I had countless phone calls, and kept bumping into them.
There's about five sisters, so it was hard trying to avoid them.

Little One and I enjoyed a Slush Puppy and a Hot Dog together, and he had a game of football and a donkey ride, too.
Not bad.
...and we timed it just right, as we joined our parents and the other family at the exit.

Small talk, small talk, small talk...
and they left, and we made our way back home.
In the car.
Even though it takes five minutes to walk.

I get home, and finally get into decent clothes.
Mother suddenly wants to go to the Balloon Fiesta.

We've lived in this city for more than a decade, and they've never given two shits about Summer fayres etc.
Why on Earth did she want to go on the last day of the Fiesta, and who on Earth did she find out from?
So, we make our way to the lovely place that I want to take the HunchBack...
Only, we're directed 15 minutes around the grounds because we took the car, and didn't use public transport.
So by the time we found parking, it was all over and people were returning to their cars.

We took the scenic route home, we passed Brunel's attractions, the Posh part of town...
The Matthew.
... which reminded Ma Soeur Ainee about the production we did in Junior School.
How very apt!
"...headed back East, headed back East.
Head. ed. East.
That adventurous lot!"

We chuckled the rest of the way home.

I spent most of the day in the car.
With the family.
With hardly any arguments.

Impulsive...?

So, we decided to meet up today.

Grumpster and I.

...but he had to shoot off to court.

Yes, I have a thing for people who have an invisible chain that drags them to the courts all the time.

So, I went and had a wax.

A bit more pleasurable than usual;

Sally touched my clit, and then pressed into it each time she ripped out more hairs...

Hers fingers gently stroked against it whilst she worked on my lips.

I think she was doing it on purpose, because I knew I was wetter than usual.

She did my ArseCrack really weird, too.

It felt like she was ringing my sphincter, as if to tickle it.

On a normal day, I have to change my knickers after a wax session.

Today, I had to peel my knickers off because I was so wet.

I decided to get my hair cut today, too.

Just because I was walking past Kenan's hairdresser.

I walked up the steps, and in a matter of seconds I was leaning against the sink and having bosoms thrust in my face, whilst the lady washed my hair.

I only wanted a bit of a trim and shape put back in...

I really didn't want to change it much.

I mentioned how it had become a mop and was really heavy.

She said she'd thin it out...

My hair is now short and really thin.

But I like it.

I then walked back into Town.

I was meant to go to New Look for a new pair of Pumps.

Instead, I went for Sushi...

...on my own, may I add?

I've always found it hard to dine on my own.

...but a place like Basaba or Yo! Sushi makes it quite fun.

I'd never sit down at KFC on my own, though.

I managed to do a Mind Map for BAYS and sort out some paperwork.

Things I didn't need to do, but felt I had to, right at that moment in time.

Vatti called then, and I gave some blasé story...

I realised, I had only meant to pop out for an hour... It had been three.

I paid, and left.

...and lied.

I said I'd take the next bus back, when in fact my feet were taking me towards New Look.

A cardigan, strapless dress, pumps and bags of SuperDrugs and Boots goodies later, I was waiting at the bus stop.

I pulled the cardi out of the bag, and put it on straight away.

Bright Pink.

I ran up the stairs as soon as I got home.

My neon pink heels.

I hadn't touched them since I bought them.

I laid them out in front of the mirror, and I stripped.

Everything.

Clips, socks, nail varnish.

The heels were too bright to battle with anything else, but my body.

I slowly started to put on the different clothes I had accumulated in the past Summer months.

I cloaked myself in Vanity, and the camera started flashing.

Yes...
I texted Quasi... and read that I arranged to meet up with him on Friday night.
Spend the night.
It won't happen, and I never would ask something like that, but today Impulse took over.

Snippet.

When you kiss, you don’t know what to do with his body.
“What do you want?” he asks you, and he has his hand in your panties.
Instead of saying “I want us to 69 and then I want to fuck you in the ass with your dildo,”
you decide to take things one step at a time and say, “well… um… you could… perhaps penetrate me”, meaning with his fingers, but he misunderstands, and smirks.

“Right. I’m going to fuck you,” and gives you such a smoldering look that you’re too embarrassed to correct him.
When you fuck, you retreat into yourself, suddenly shy. You’d already ridden out your drunkenness and so are no longer bold.
He enters you from behind, the two of you kneeling, and his hands cup your breasts and move down your body, urgently, like his hands were meant to cruise all over your skin.
You feed off of his pants and jerky body movements,
feeling like you’re being worshiped,
...feeling like this is worship.
There has to be something spiritual about all of this concentrated attention.
Religious, even.

You end up on your hands and knees, and your body feels nothing except red hot shards of pleasure at your core.
He grunts.
Swears.
Comes.

You don’t.

But you revel in the fact that you’ve reduced him to this.
This articulate,
overly-intellectual
person
to
one word:
Fuck.

Time for sleep.
He rolls away from you, turns out the lamp, says you can feel free to stay.
Not that he wants you to; but that you can feel free to.
He plays classical music on his iPhone.
You close your eyes.

Afterwards, you’ll look back on that moment as the moment that he lost interest.
But, for a few minutes at least, nothing else existed for him except you; and your quota for… whatever it is, was filled a little more.