Reaching the toenail of picasso

OKay so I started sketching again.. Summer has kicked in, holidays and heat cause my body to expand automatically and the latter drives my mum crazy. So, to avoid the "ulimate destruction of prospects of productivity" due to my lazing and lolling around.. I started sketching. SO, here's an attempt I made to draw myself. Well, one of the few flaws I can point out is that my face has come out looking chubby... least ironically, I must say.. given to the fact that my recent blowup due to excessive eating and scarcity of exercise "might" have caused some ''whispers on the street"... Yaya, and though mum does agree to the fact that my potrait is a tinge more chubbier that me, she's all "good, that you've finally not decided to overlook your baby fat and brought it out so beautifully in your potrait! Proud of you darling! bla bla bla" Okay so, I am wavering from the point. My point is, I had a lot of fun doing this thing. I made my mum burst with exhilaration and pride! And for the first time, my dad did appreciate my efforts without hesitation and picking out faults. SO, I am looking forward to boasting more about it! So, there goes my pic.. and ya, thanks to the scanner, I got only 3 by 4th of the pic and some of the pencil strokes turned out look like dirt.... but they're not... and also I look a bit like voldemort.. so, its pretty satsfactory as a soft copy :)

That thing with the blue tint!

Specs that you've been wearing for almost 6 years or  trendy contacts? Of course, you can well imagine what I would have chosen! Drowned away in boredom, and after a few desperate attempts of "innovation" in my present life that's devoid of any kindof enthusiasm or new prospects, I finally decided to get crazy and unrealistic (  that's what I say now). AAnnnnd.... SOooooO... I placed my approval quite satsfactorily in mum's everdoubting head annndd got those weird slimy concave silicone gel cups with the BLUE TINT. Just to clarify, my contacts aren't blue..
Owing to the never ending anticipation working up in my head, I nagged and begged, projected out my condescending character with least shame and finally got those lens delivered in time.
"You must wash you hands properly before putting in the lenses.", the optician said. His face bore an expression of disinterest. But I jumped up frantically to every word he said. Well, he uttered only that sentence much to my disappointment. I rolled my eyes a bit, attempting to warm up. Pulling my eyelids down and my eyebrows up, he shoved them in my eyes so fast as if the rajdhani he wanted to catch was pulling away.. "OUCHHHH!! holy shit! mother of contacts! This hurts like nails on a chalkboard!", I bellowed within my head in response to his flawed act. Tears rolled down my eyes. It felt like my vitreous humor was humouring me! "No!", I cried and mum meticulously picked the piece out of my eye and put it again. "Better!" I groaned. Okay now that scene recurred 4 5 times till till the outlines of the contacts switched to just "scratching my cornea".
So, the next few days of drama involved few "hard- to- believe-but -oh-you-have-to" episodes as follows:
 a) I succeed in pushing the lens into my eyes and squeal with delight when to my utter dismay, I  realise there's no correction in in my vision! And oh wait!The lens is not in my eye! OH its lying somewhere on the damn floor or its stuck to my clothes. I strip myself, I crawl to previously inaccessible corners, I try making assumptions like 'Is is lost at the back of my eye?" , and finally mum picks up the shrunken dehydrated piece from somewhere and *********** you can guess....
b) Mum gets to know its not appropriate for my eye and shoots the optician's ear with jolts of fire~~ And again a week of impatience results in fresh contacts.
After rahu kaalam got over, I bowed to lord " PLese let this not hurt me!".
I opened the case again that read "Bauch and Lomb". Now if this causes a tinge of discomfort, am definitely gonna sue you Mr.Bauch and Mr.Lomb! Really, sticking your finger into the eye is pretty gross. I did it anyways. It didn't feel different. The concave thing had a larger radius of curvature and so it caused more pain. I was anguished and baffled at the same time! The reason behind the lens hurting me was unfathomable and I chose to wear it anyways.
While popping in pills my dermatologist had recommended, I read the huge list of side effects that accompanied the tiny strip of capsules.
Tretiva; donot consume during pregnancy, causes birth defects.; patient might have difficulty in wearing contact lenses; causes dry eyes.; et cetera,,, I stopped at that line and jumped in relief. So, my eyes were not afflicted with any kind of hazardous thing, its just "dry eyes!"
I poured in a lot of multipurpose solution into the eye and from that merry day, me moping over contacts became an entirely obsolete act. " So dear! You've finally overcome your aversion towards lenses, haven't you?" Mum asks me everyday after placing it into my eye. I nod my head gently, reassuring her.

La la land machine!!

Seriously, when mom ordered me to write something, half side of my brain was snoozing heavily while the other half was dead alert! Now that's what I call "boredom"! You'll feel like doing something, but you end up not doing it at all. So, when this tug of war takes place in the battlefield called BrAiN, i.e when I am bored, I practically perform "simple harmonic motion" in the common passage of my home which connects the kitchen, the living room and the bathroom. Now I guess that order makes sense to you.
NOw, my home is like a group of 3 territories.With mom and dad trying to protect their territories from me and with me trying to invade both of them and becoming "alexander the great", we truly thrive in medieval age! While walking to and fro across the no man's land, if i accidently run into mom or dad, i'l be thrown back into my own territory. This happens till around 10 o clock and after that, when everyone is too sleepy to do anything, I get back to "feeling bored" like a free bird.
With the excuse of giving mum (whose btw lying down and watching tv or reading a book peacefully) a tight huggie, I go and place my head over her cushion soft tummy, trying to hear digestion noises.. annoying her to the extreme level. I do ridiculously kiddish activities like playing peek a boo with daddy, or staging a rock concert in the bathroom, or talking with my teddy bear, and giving a facial to my barbie dolls. MOm would be like, " Do you think you are a baby? Or are you trying to project yourself as cute? " And I would be like " Go away ! Dont disturb my teddy! He's sleeping." So this was the "baby phase" of my boredom. In the teenage phase of my boredom, I behave like a drama queen. I listen to emotional music, wash my face like a million times, cut my nails to perfection, brush my hair till it shines, keep segregating my creams, lipglosses and eye liners, though I never seem to use them, argue with mum and dad and bore my friends over the phone. And dad would be like " IF you wash your face so much and get obssessed with beauty, you'll end up looking like a monkey queen!"  ANd i'd say " I already look like a monkey queen dadzeee!! Tell me, I have no marks on my face today right?" And daddy says, "Umm... I cant tell.. There are a few on your left cheek.." Seeing my face drooping down, he'll say " What is this? Go and study! You wanna look like katrina kaif or what?" And before he bursts into another of his long lectures, I rush out to search for something else that's unworthwhile.

A peek at the peaks

Sometimes I blindly wonder as to what I would be doing 10 years later. At the age of 26, I guess. Firstly, imagining it itself seems like a dreadful task. It shoves jolts of fear down me. But I always see myself, wearing a coat and a formal skirt, my lip gloss shining, my curls falling over my cheeks, my stiletoes making a "tap - tap" noise over the floor, as I walk with a steadfast expression over my face. As i approach a big table, I hear a chorus of "good morning" .. And Bam!! I fall prey to the fear again. The doubts that get ejaculated in my mind.. regarding the dream.. Would it ever happen? Would I be able to fulfill my dream? I try to drive the desolation out of my mind, and resume the “dreaming in daylight” session shamelessly.

Somehow nothing ever feels amiss in my thoughts. The 26 year old Geethu is a successful woman. Extremely gracious, amiable, smart and beautiful. And of course, intelligent! Somewhat similar to a Sidney Sheldon lady protagonist. But with more decent aims of course. She is a superwoman, a role model for everyone. Her baby cousins adore her, her mum's proud of her. She always stays cheerful and sprinkles joy everywhere she goes. She wears diamond rings in three of her fingers and has her nails manicured to perfection. Whenever she walks by, she smells like fresh blossoms. Her eyes evince her innocence.

In case you lost track, I was talking about myself. All these things seem to be happening miles away. Maybe in a parallel universe situated in my head. And today's geethu is entirely devoid of all those characteristics. But still I have a ray of hope shining brilliantly in my head. My inner voice tells me that I own all the raw material and all I have to do is manufacture something phenomenal from it. Because when the lady dreamt of her future where she could become a big shot by just selling a pot of curd, she tripped down big time... thanks to her excellent assiduity towards her present life of course... (snorts)

Actually, I...

It's like one of those times when you have loads to say but you find no appropriate words that could give full justice to the thoughts sprinting in your mind. When movies read aloud the thoughts of a person, they are in the form of distinct words. But the real mind is just a whirlpool of vague emotions, which remain undistinguished from one another, sortof like a haphazard jumble. You can sense where the pieces fall in, but you fail to place them right. But when those pieces get attatched together, they give rise to a complex substance, commonly misjudged as realisation.. Well, I call it "opinion", the toughest thing that can be moulded..like ever. Most of the while, I deliberately prevent my subconcious from glueing those parts together because an opinion once formed or demolished cannot be regenerated. So, instead of throwing in a gallon of opinions into the vessel just to get contradictory results, let the pieces of your thought remain unassembled. There is seldom a need to arrive at a conclusion...
People often say that their heart aches, or skips a beat. No one can ever try to relate the incident to the real organ that pumps blood. I mean, why do you want to think about ventricular contractions when you are depressed? That's stupid and waaaay too dramatic, I suppose and at times I used to wonder why the 'heart' is given credit or blamed for everything. For instance " I put my heart and soul into my music". It can be regarded as impractical maybe.. Without beating about the bush further, I would say.."Now, that was an opinion" Though I do bluff a lot and say tons of emotional crap, there are few things I don't believe in.  And definitely some of them that I am strongly inclined to.
For instance, "supernatural elements". I actually don't know why I believe every tale I hear or see. Since childhood I live in this shiny glittering little universe of mine.. a blend of paranormal n mythical ages! I shamelessly do weird things like carrying a lucky stone with me everywhere I go.. I blindly assume illusions to be true.. Its probably way too sheepish of me to have such a perspective about things at this age. But finally, all these pieces fell into a pattern and told me that "I am special and rare"  Even today I wait for a glass shoe that fits me right or a secret closet that takes me to Narnia or  a broomstick that I would ride and play quidditch!
Honestly, I had no idea what I was going to write when I opened this page but there's no doubt that I poured out the turmoil in my brain perfect and maybe arranged the jigsaw! ;)