A Colorless Frenzy -

my life in a nutshell, at the moment. It is a whirlwind of endless work and experiences, only to be muddled by the complexity of it all. Time to myself is what is cherished most. Sitting in solitude means a new opening into what matters to me, and no one else. Learning and accepting that one lives for his own life is what is substantial, the supposed "true" significance of existence. Don't put your trust in someone else only to be hurt in the end.

As morbid as it may seem, the underlying truth manifests itself through a slow, painstaking process. The ironic aspect is that one doesn't realize it until it is much too late, after anything can be done. When it is over, the grief passes and a lesson is learned. It has been referred to in the past. Humans are sick, selfish creatures. What hasn't exemplified this enough, if not Hollywood and literature? We live for ourselves, by ourselves, and with only ourselves. No other reasoning must be employed besides the obvious truth of human self-indulgence and in this case, adolescent instability and false hope.

I recently put this to the test, and came out with two seemingly opposite results. The empty, singular feeling remains, for it never fades away. Yet an even stronger emotion resides closer still, one of independence and freedom like no other. In the past, using another as a crutch to my mental sorrows and as a gateway to my wildest of emotions, I was deceived. It should never, and will never, occur again. I've grown stronger, and at times, I wish others could see. They might possibly interpret it as a fucking joke, or even a ridiculous way of experiencing things. Yet who are they to decide? It's my life.

So, kids, the moral of the story ultimately is: if you are not permanently stuck with the person for the rest of your life, your faith and morality lies only within you, and nobody else.

Live to never forget it.

Paper-cut Epiphany

I cut my finger today as I was organizing old photographs with my family. It was a photo of my younger cousin, Sid, who was most probably two or three at the time. He was sitting on an old sofa in our apartment in Edison, and looked quite defiant in pair of blue rain boots and bright turquoise overalls. The funny thing about the shot is that the sun was shining only on his eyes and nose, and the rest of the living room had this dark orange tint. He has big lips, Sid does. I think it runs in my family.

Is it too much to ask for an apology, maybe some repentance? Or possibly some sort of sign that whatever occurred in the past was a mistake? I believe so. It sort of is sad to be a lone-star. One never really knows what else is happening in the world besides in the one he holds dear to himself. This year revolves around midnight study sessions, warm tea, and my bedroom. Just me, myself, and I.

These days in which I am stuck inside my house for prolonged periods of time, I think. About life, and death, and everything in between. "Everything happens for a reason." I am horrible with the word trust. I cringe at the fact that people around the world mourn for weeks over somebody they were close to, and then take no time whatsoever to forgive when that person crawls right back to them.

Am I the worst kind of person imaginable? One who only wants what is fair. Or, possibly, a lost soul who wants nothing but peace. How quaint.

All we can do now, my dear Watson, is wait.

Renewal?

Nose currently buried deep within- Like Water for Chocolate: A Novel in Monthly Installments with Recipes, Romances, and Home Remedies by Laura Esquivel.


We're Going to Be Friends- The White Stripes


Snow, snow and more snow. And sadness, as it appears that this school year is the worst. Midterms commenced a few hours back, and English is done and over with. I feel like the only things to console me these days are warm socks and The Beatles. The despised flurries fall almost as if in heaps, and I can't help but wonder what the balmy weather must be like in India at this very moment.

Visit India one day if you enjoy the vibrant hues of the spectrum. Trust me, there is no such thing as tackiness when it comes to clothing and appearance. It's a panorama of sights, smells, sounds, and experiences. What's not to love in adventure?

I don't think I have lost myself these past few months. I am proud to say I know where I am, and what I wish to be. Doesn't that give you a sense of hope, what with the dismal weather and stresses of life? 

Alas, I have forced myself not to watch the third season of Skins UK until after midterms!

She wishes to disappear from the face of the Earth.

Like a small speck of dust left on your coat

pocket, like warm breath after a hot chocolate

battling strong and hard against the frozen

December air. Laugh in all of your undaunted,
fickle amusement. Your chutzpah might as well be
punished.

Ignorance is Bliss

But is it really? What can one perceive to be true bliss, a simple life or a meaningful one? One in which aspirations are reached each and every day, perchance. A life that is lived for something, or possibly even someone. George Orwell replaced true emotions with a miserable existence for all. Aldous Huxley portrayed modern society as one giant "orgy porgy" of immaturity and innocence.

I believe bliss is attained when one finds why he or she was placed on this very planet. No "perfect life," or "eternal soul-mates." Just the simple realization, a matter of fact. I think this bliss is exactly what I need. At this very moment, and for the rest of my life. What is the overall purpose here? I am a mere adolescent who is trying to find her place in reality.

If only dreams and my subconscious mind overtook my grasp on life.

Then, and only then, would I actually be able to live.

P.S.- To my amusement, today was the day I realized that everyone looks wonderful in black. Everyone. Good feelings coming through never fail to please, for the days are beginning to become blurs of nothingness.

Good night. 

Model United Nations

First off, I would like to apologize to myself and for anyone who is currently reading this blog for not posting in an entire five days. Writing heals me in ways that you would never imagine, yet this weekend has been so hectic and overwhelmingly busy that I was not able to blog! Now, I am just barely able to scrounge up this post with my phone. I hope it will have the same healing effect.

Model UN is one of the most enlightening and invigorating experiences a teenager can be a part of, and it changes you. It focuses around representing a nation that is previously assigned to you,
and speaking in front of a committee of about 50 to 150 people. Public speaking is a major aspect of the entire weekend, and I love it. It began with one of my close friends introducing it to me in middle school. I had no idea what it was or what one would encounter, so I was nervous my beginning time, last year. It turned out to be a life-changing weekend, at least for me. This year, I was in the same committee as last: Social, Humanitarian, and Cultural Committee. The entire group this year is like a family to me, and the mere idea of having to leave once again makes me so apprehensive.

I must terminate the post early, for sessions and the commemoration speeches will start soon. Hope everyone is having an equally exciting weekend.

Color My Life with the CHAOS of Trouble

As the old year whispers its sweet nothings into my ear for the last time, I have all but twenty-two minutes to speak before the new year. The new decade in this millennium will begin, and I have to say that I am no where near ready. Life is, essentially, flashing before my eyes. I yearn to discover the exact reason as to why I am situated in my corner of the world, and for who. Writing my everyday thoughts clear the muddled pathway to understanding, and I am more than thankful for the select few that decide to read my words, no matter how meaningless they may seem.

The clock ticks. Fifteen minutes.

All I must say is that after this year, things will be different, at least for me. Letting go of the most distracting things, such as Facebook, has been a mind-cleanser. I can write what I feel, and what I want to feel, rather than stare incessantly at photos of people I neither really know nor care about. Before I know it, two valuable hours of my life have passed by, and for what achievement? I gain nothing by wallowing in my self-pity and loneliness. Here is where I have my own small slice of the "world's" (apple) pie, a single yet substantial place set out only for me. And my thoughts that I carry.

So bloggers and writers of the world, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Have a wonderful and prosperous New Year, 2011.

-  -  -

Eleven minutes remain, and the clock that ticks in time and tune with my eager heart will strike a new beginning.

Look-- there She goes...

The truth. As feeble attempts come and go, no one is able to fulfill my wishes. My whims go unnoticed, and I stay in a corner, secluded, baffled as to why.

Blah. I don't feel like writing some sort of seemingly intelligent but really utter bullshit today, I want to write, well, me. The life-ruining snow, what it should now be called, led me to cancel about half of my plans this winter break, while leaving some others still in the air. The quiet, accumulating drifts that usually fall are watery and windy this year, which means nothing else than a blizzard, to say the least. The "best" weather reporters on the local channel declared about "2 to 4 inches of snow to be expected," yet about 11 to 12 inches have already stacked up beside my bedroom window. I left my home early this afternoon, eager to embrace the season's first snowfall, yet was disappointed to find that our car could not exceed about twenty miles per hour on a county road.

Winter makes me want to run away from home. I'll do it, I really will. See if your weak arms can stop me. Your cautionary words will fly by me like dandelion seeds, whisked away by the gentle summer breeze. I have a plan, I do! I'll take the cheapest plane down to Timbuktu and live a happy life with an old hermit named Geraldine who owns a tea shop, and we'll gossip about taxes and the best cookie recipes, about men and the corruption that politics has to suffer these days. She'll take care of me, and I her.

Or maybe I'll go to Santorini in Greece, and work as a foreign student. Cleaning up hostels and restaurants and mildly starving on a day-to-day basis, I'll still be searching for my goal in life. Whatever it is, it will be better than here. I'll convince myself that.

Yet deep down, I know it won't be. They say family is all you've got. But you know what, I have always wondered one thing. Who are the "they" that we always refer to when we speak of having morals and doing the norm? Are "they" a group of philosophers? Perhaps the most normal people, "they" are the ones who know all about living in regularity and sticking to the status quo. It has always bothered me a bit that we never really concluded who they are, for these people could be incredibly dimwitted.

After a stressful day surviving the heater in my house, I like to take my cold hands and press them to my eyes. It's a habit that I have. Oddly enough, it calms me. Sure, I look like an idiot who plays peek-a-boo with herself, but after a few seconds of pressing my eyelids, I open them to feel as if my sight is renewed. Yeah, psycho bullshit. Nobody ever really said I was normal.

Ahem, drumroll pleeease.

Rucha's 2011 Resolutions:

1. Fulfill your utmost potential in school

2. Learn to understand people for who they truly are

3. See life with a new, more refined, perspective

4. Be healthier

5. Do five kind things for someone...anyone

6. Smile more than three times a day, and mean each and every one

7. Come to a peaceful understanding with my parents

8. Aim high and be headstrong

9. Expect the best in people, even if they have let you down in the past

10. Live, and let live

In a few short hours I will be well on my way into an exciting and invigorating self-project. It's called... are you ready? "Doing nothing." It's a cleansing process, and trust me, the only thing it will cleanse you of is your sense of living on the edge, and being anywhere near productive.

Oh, winter break. What have you done to me?

P.S.- I love perfection when words intermingle with each other in bittersweet...simplicity.

"What is it about snowy days? The white hue; the warmth of one’s house; or is it the opaque magical beauty of a world as it is gradually painted over by a white brush?

So breathtaking. So utterly delicately breathtakingly perfect."

Jingle Those Bells

I sit here, in all of my profound glory, eating leftover pork-fried rice from a staff party out of a steaming plastic bag (yes, plastic) and a cup of warm green tea. That, my friends, is the beauty of having a boss and staff who are Chinese.

I remember on my ride home I had so much to write about, the ideas were all just buzzing in my mind, but at the moment they all have seemed to disappear. I listened to a chorus performing today, and for some reason, I was laughing. Like pure laughter was escaping from my lips as I watched to uncomfortable teenagers sing in front of half of my school body. I was giggling for most of the time, and I like choruses. Guess I'll never know the answer to that one.

A couple of months ago I came across this quirky French band known as Dionysos. It's an incredibly talented group of musicians that get their eccentric flair through the works of Tim Burton, for their latest album La Mécanique du Cœur (The Mechanics of the Heart) is based on a book by the band's lead vocalist Mathias Malzieu. It's a very...fantastical album, not really based on reality so much as something Tim Burton-esque. It just is what it is.

There's this part of the song La Berceuse Hip Hop du Docteur Madeleine that goes "You mean without sex? I mean without passion."
But Mathias comes out as saying weezout sex. I love the French.


My holidays consist of frequent visits with family most of the time, yet this year a lot of them are visiting India, not that I am complaining. I am such a sucker for a day with just myself. Peace mends me well, and I find that life this year is just going as it was meant to go. No true or specified path, just the way it is supposed to go.

I am not sure if I believe in fate or not, or even destiny. I mean, sure, you met the woman you are currently in love with because the exact moment the two of you met in that dirty college gymnasium was right after her volleyball game and before your swim meet. It all worked out perfectly, until the moment you realized you were in love with her. Contradicting? Seems so, especially considering the fact that fate just does not exist in my eyes. You take a hold of your life, do you not? Your supposed "plan" that was mapped out by some unearthly being is never set, you decide on what you want to do. I am not contesting or refuting religion, it's as simple as saying peanut butter is made from just that: peanuts. We are our lives, no one else can control them.

Unless you have independence issues. Then that's a different story.

Seeing as my eyes as just about to lock themselves shut for the night, I'm going to bed. Oh, and what do you know? It's Christmas Eve.

Europe

It has been my long-time fantasy to be able to backpack across the continent of Europe ever since I was twelve years old. That was the time I read the book 13 Little Blue Envelopes by Maureen Johnson, and the extravagant idea of travelling to a far-away land, with the possibility of finding unexpected love and lots of food (this is what truly convinced me) is still planted in my mind today. I wouldn't even mind going alone for some self-therapy. I feel like everyone in the world should try that someday, but I feel like the lack of time stops me.

Ah, Le Tour D'Eiffel. C'est très joli, non?

I had a major musical revival today and last night. I feel like I must have downloaded over 50 albums. I love indie music, and the White Stripes were a major point in all of the hysteria. One of my friends in French class told me about an artist he heard when he was visiting Paris and Marseilles over the summer. He said the radio was always busting with his eclectic Français electro-pop beats. Stromae's just an interesting guy overall, truly talented.

And adorable.

Aaanyway, don't you just love to cuddle up in a corner with a good book and some of Debussy's Clair de Lune playing, enjoying a hot cup of tea? How I wish I was an old retired lady, with 103 cats and a pair of blue rhinestone reading glasses and tiny feet. But, alas. I'm just me, a teenager with blurred perception and excessive hormones.

I can't stop thinking about food today! It's all just so delicious, I mean who doesn't love food? YUM. From Japanese ramen, sugar cookies, chocolate bunnies, cupcakes, watermelon, blueberry muffins, hamburgers, broccoli with chicken, gumbo, chicken curry, strawberry shortcake...I can't go on because I think I might die of hunger.

Isn't it funny that when one says "myocardial infarction" he sounds eighty times more intelligent than just saying a heart attack? Oh medical melodramas, you make my life complete.

Hopefully the last week before Winter break will go smoothly. 

Get Back in my Life

These days are passing by in a blur and I feel my teenage adolescence speeding away like a freight train with no final destination. Just looming in the distance, while others have some sort of goal, some place that they wish to be. While I, hazed by the gloominess of winter and loss of some valued relationships, am floating in the air. Free from troubles, yes. Yet I could say that I am searching for troubles. I need something to make me want my conscious to speak to me. To tell me: No. That's wrong. Yet what mischief can Rucha cause with just me, myself, and I?

I feel like my goal will appear some day. It has to, right? I mean, that's why we are here. To go on and overcome those fears, to endure great feats of mental and physical anguish, to spread our thoughts and feelings and...love to our surroundings. It should become clear eventually. I am just waiting on it to dawn on me.

I want to live for something. 

So, what do I want to "Get Back in my Life?" I have abso-toot-ley no idea. Désolé, mes chéries. Maybe one day, I will learn all about fulfilling dreams, and I will let you know.


On the less pessimistic and brighter side, I have quite an exciting event coming up. With one of my close friends I will be visiting NYC in less than a week. I simply love the city in the wintertime. I remember as a child I went there with my parents and all I could remember was ice-skating near the Rockefeller tree and having frost-bitten fingers and toes. It was quite the night. 

The city gives me some sort of hope, and like Alicia says..."A concrete jungle where dreams are made of." Is my dream nestled in New York? I am trying to figure that, and several other things out these days. Hopefully my long To-Do list will be all checked off by this summer, at least. 


Then, I will have my Bucket List to finish. Joy!


Enjoy the festivities. ♥

Paychecks and Predicaments

...and good music.

Whenever I receive a paycheck, it gives me this uplifting joy, and it honestly is the one thing that is giving me great happiness in my life. It's a mediocre high school job, and the pay in minimum wage, but I could care less. It goes to a couple of new college textbooks if I'm in for a splurge, or possibly a month's worth of rent in an apartment somewhere in my near future. So, I guess it's a dim light in the dark, hazy existence I call life.

I am always in some sort of unusual trouble when it comes to my emotions. That, and the actions of others that inevitably affect my well-being. The past few days I have been completely off the loop. On a regular Friday evening, I spent time with my family and did more than half of my pending homework. I haven't done that in months, for "procrastination is key" has been my motto for about three years in the making. I just am incredibly confused, and I am not sure if I can call it hurt, yet it's possible.

Disclaimer to any who read the following: it will baffle you if you are not familiar with my life, so therefore, most of you. If you are, well, this is my way of coping. Basically, another way to answer that constant question: what (or who) do I live for?

Hey, Confusion. Why don't you come around?

So, I feel hurt and just plain old down in the dumps today. Is that even a regular saying anymore? The day started off unexpected, for I had a plan to go into the city with an old friend. Yet now I sit here, alone, and wonder what that girl is exactly thinking and going through at this moment.

The story goes as follows: I have a friend, let's call her Geraldine. Now, Geraldine came here from a foreign country. She does not live with her parents, yet lives with her Aunt, and her husband, accompanied by her other cousins, who are in the same situation as she is in. They have come to America to study and go to college, to basically start a different life. She has far less privileges than your average American teenager, for I guess she is trying to prove herself, to both her parents, as well as her Aunt, and even herself.

What I don't understand is: when she is faced with a problem in which she wishes to do something for herself, in other words, to have some freedom, why doesn't she fight for it? Geraldine, for lack of better words, "loves" to work. Schoolwork, community service, church labor, about any work that a teenager could partake in. Hell, she would get a job, that is, if she could.

She never has time for herself. Absolutely never, ever. Don't even ask her! This, my friends, is my best bud. My "BFFL." Tell me now, do you see something wrong with this?

She needs help, preferably some sort of therapeutic relaxation from the everyday life of a high school junior. She also needs to be able to sense that freedom and a break is necessary to actually live. You are a teenager, goddamn it. Please just realize this, for the sake of those who actually wish to see you every once in a while. You know, to check if you're alive or not...

It just hit me that I am currently obsessed with the so-called pop phenomenon Bruno Mars. If anyone has heard of this guy, please just look him up. Far beyond your average pop garbage these days, and an actual down-to-earth, talented kid. Not to mention quite adorable.

I've just been living on the edge the past few months since school has started. You ever feel like everything you live for is just focused on this one single thing and there's nothing you can do but fight for it? No compromising, no loopholes in that contract called life. Just live and make the best of what you are given.

Currently reading: Brave New World. By Aldous Huxley. Damn good book, with loads of 1) insight and 2) allusions. My two favorite things!

If I had gone to the city: ramen would be the first thing I would have eaten. Simply scrumptious, a Japanese delight, obviously involving noodles and a spicy broth. Plus many other appetizing things...

Time to do what I do best. Sit on my ass and watch old re-runs of That 70's Show, with leftover turkey and a warm fireplace.

Have a wonderful night.

Pie

It's has been too long, I know this!

This site is not much like Tumblr, where people decide, "Oh. Let me just re-blog this and that and call it my own, then laugh about it and comment about it. Then have others share it."

It requires one to spill his or her emotions out into lengthy paragraphs and entries, ones that the Tumblr-folk could write if they feel up to it. Yet with their laziness and the technological advantage called re-blogging at their fingertips, they mostly choose not to. Not that I'm complaining.

The thanksgiving passed by as per usual. I spent the night at the cousins' house with plenty of
Pecan pie and s'mores to go around (don't ask, it's quite a long time tradition). My uncle recently went out and bought a Canon T1-I or something model of a camera, and I played around with it for a while. Nothing truly professional, of course.

The weather has been quite gloomy, and I don't know if it's just me, but I kind of like that every once in a while. It's sort of relaxing to the mind with all you gaze out of the window is a cloudy fog and nothing more. Nothing less than dead trees and mist in the midst. The biting cold hits you hard like a rock or a moving car, yet you still are able to stay calm, and enjoy it all.

Or maybe that's just me?


Well isn't that simply delicious. 

I think pumpkin pie has to be my favorite. Only when it is cool, with cinnamon flavored ice cream and perhaps some strawberries on the side?
Yum. Time to cook up some concoctions in the kitchen!

Happy belated turkey day, all.

My Start

Currently listening to: She's Got You High by Mumm-Ra


Most say life is full of chances. Others contemplate that it's a justification of the risks one take. For me, life is about the simplicities, extravagances, and fulfilling conversations that come with being a teenager. School is my life as of now, and I would like to say that it has come to one thing: grades. "Striving for that perfect GPA will be worth it in the end," I tell myself day after day. But will it, really?

What if I end up in as someone who leads a horrible life? What then? I could have gone to Med school, why the hell not. Yet what if that God out there says "Oh look, Rucha's about to be happy. Better go get her."

Then?

What my true question to the world and myself is:
Will the struggles I go through now really turn out for the best, or is it just a mistake on my part to even go through with them in the first place.

I procrastinate. Trust me, I do. Any work I have quickly whisked away like sweat on a marathon runner's eyebrow. It's forgotten and more appealing things manifest in my mind. Short films, or perhaps a late-night watching of (500) Days of Summer will do the trick. As I sit here, the warmth from my electric heater radiating to bring life into my dark, empty room, I wish for the thrills of summer. The careless, humid nights where I could sit on my rooftop and sing songs and talk on the phone all night long, and nobody would care.

It was just me and myself and I.

But then school came along.

Maybe now is some time for Froot Loops and a cold glass of soy milk.