it's refreshing to have a colour change. hope this isn't too glaring though. if it is, i'll split up my paragraphs. priya looks so sad and tired outside in the garden...maybe i should go keep her company later before i leave...when is my dad going to go to WORK WHENWHENWHEN. ARGH. there have been so many times where i just didn't feel like college, where i'd ask to get dropped off at amcorp and sit sipping and iced chocolate in starbucks and doing some math or lit, after which i'd meet sen and waste away the rest of the day either thinking or agonising or going online.
and im upset over my AS results. stupidhead.
elena is leaving today. i will call her after class. wan tse called and made me want to blubber on the phone; she was half an hour away from her flight and i could hear the tears in her voice. i just read this featured blog where the girl talks about nothing but love and how her first kiss was and what her boyfriend did and ladida. yeesh. so in this entry we shall have no mention of a boyfriend and we shall instead talk about other things.
i have a thirteen-year old brother called vishal. he looks like my granddad, and he is a genius. no, like certifiably. two years younger than the kids in his form, and insanely intelligent. acts like a fool and talks like one too, however. but then you can see the flashes of brilliance surface, especially when he's trying to get my folks on his side. he's mastered the art of subtle coercion. stupidhead.
my mum is North Indian. milk-complexioned with jet-black wavy tresses. sharp features. yeah, she's gorgeous, turns heads all the time even at her age. horrible horrible temper, though. she's smart too, but not half as smart as my brother, i think. or so she says. she studies her way up/through. her name's prema latha, which means love something. ill find out and publish it somewhere sometime. we fight like crazy, and if it's her fault she'll NEVER say sorry. instead she goes out, buys me hersheys and sends me an sms telling me she's stocked the fridge. i've probably said this before, but i'll say it again - we are the dysfunctional Indian version of the Simpsons.
my dad is the Dalai Lama. he's so at peace with everything. he's South Indian, so the running joke is that my brother and i are Central Indian cos that's what you get when the parents 'collide'. my mum is prone to Extreme Lameness. she laughs at herself, and then you laugh cos she's so endearingly lame but that just encourages her and she spouts the lame-liners till we beg her to stop. my dad is actually really funny; he's got this acerbic wit he doesn't spare my mum from and calls my brother 'chronic'. we've never asked in what context. he's got a 44-inch waist which goes 'boing' when you touch it. i swear. we've tried balancing every damn thing small enough on his tummy and there's always enough room.
my mum's mum has strange ways of professing her affection. everytime she sees me, the first thing she says is 'donkey dog' in tamil. or 'stupid dog', depending on the meaning she attaches. she loves us but pushes our hugs away and raises her hand at the slightest jibe in her direction. i can't live without her. i adore her to bits.
my dad's mum has a remedy for everything. breakout? 'aloe vera EVERY NIGHT, just break off a stick and dabdab.' tummy ache? 'drink this [hands me very suspect looking liquid and watches me expectantly].' stitch in your side? 'bend over and touch your toes.'
enough for now. granny undies showing [argh, i hate periods]. much love, as always.
Posted at 12:37 pm by afrokarma
