DOOOOOOOODOOOOOOOOOOODOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO



Stupid jokes.

Beautiful smile.

Eyes that say so much.

And voice that eliminates all fears.

Hiding behind you, feel safe.

Feel at home.

YOU make sense when nothing else does.

And you cause happiness.

Only your opinion matters.

Being part of your world, if even a little while provides asylum from the rest of the world.

With you, can hide forever.

You, is all thats needed.


Even a few seconds of you makes the whole day a lot more bearable, life happier, and every issue smaller. Nobody else matters when looking at you.

Every breathe becomes different. Every step lighter. A smile comes forth even though try not to. A genuine one.


Thank you.

Taffy at 8:57:00 PM

Oh How i Wish ...

For once i my life i actually want the holidays to end. This house is too small for four people and a dog.Chinese New Year has to be one of the most stretched out tortures ever.

No offense. But atleast you guys got something to do.

You know i haven't seen the outside world in two days.

I have nothing to do.

Nickelodeon is repeating cartoons. Spongebob just ran away from Sandy for the second time.

He's hiding under the rock, you idiots.

B'sides, I am not really a TV fan.

The house is too hot.

I actually watched my mother fold clothes.

I cleaned my room. Washed my clothes. I changed the bedspreads. Packed up my desk. Touched up the wall paper in my room. Swept and mopped the floors.

I even lay on my bed and stared at the ceiling.


I'M ACTUALLY STUDYING.


Next up i'm gonna design the car and sign for open house, following that will be ironing clothes for the next two weeks.

ARGH.

Oh, i dreamt about my church service... and heard a real long sermon about something.Although i can't remember what. hmmm... maybe i'll go to church this Sunday.

Maybe.

Oh lord i am looking forward to accounting lecture tmw. Atleast i will see sane people again...


I think i'm gonna go watch a movie... Constantine sounds good.Keanu Reeves Rocks.
Only actor i know who uses the exact same facial expression to emote every thing.
Maybe i'll go borrow Swades. hmmmm..Any body wanna tag along? Probably going today...

I must be really bored, i'm actually going to do what i regard a waste of time. Watching Hollywood movies.

Phooey.

Taffy at 3:28:00 PM

SN_

'''AP...


With one hand, I can count the days i don't walk out of the home in a huff, breakfast in hand, desperate to get away from this place i have to live in.

All this family ever seems to know how to do is snap at each other, nag, and be embittered. And lately selfishness abounds.


Mine, Mine. MINE.

I have been hurt.
I matter... That's all they seem to say.


When I lost my voice and could barely squeak, apparently I had to find a way to talk. Cause if i didn't, it meant i was being rude and arrogant as always. Regardless of the fact nothing could come out of my throat. Regardless of the fact she was screaming her question from the kitchen and i was in my room and it meant i had to walk all the way across the hall and into the kitchen to whisper. And even if i did do that, i didn answer immediately, so that makes me rude anyway.Plus, when i stood in front of her and spoke nothing came out of my throat, and i'd face my mother face cold and stern as always, unyielding and impatient, a frown marring her features.

I think ever since her mother died, shes changed. She's become... scary. unhappy. I don't think she even loves me anymore. She's not as pretty as before. Got loads of grey hairs.

Apparently, my mother was having sore throat too, and if she could scream, so could i.

Where is the logic? I lost my bloody voice.LOST. GONE. No more.

And then when i leave home crying, which is something i never do, they wonder why on earth i'm crying, and they scold me for that too. And they ask me why, when i can't speak, and yet again they expect me answer.

It gets stupider.

Following which they came to the conclusion i couldn't handle the stress that came along with directing and Stage managing.

"Give it up." they said. "Since you're so weak, and such cry baby, no ones gonna respect you."

I felt like laughing.

Such a fucking irony.


Cause when i went to school, there were the ppl ensuring i ate, getting me drinks, speaking for me, yelling on my behalf. Getting me cures.



Yell , yell, yell.

Argue, argue.

i can't even tell the difference between their voices any more. It all sounds the same.

Angry and Hateful. Snappy. A Three-headed demon.


Today, eve of Chinese New Year, all across the globe there are people gathering to spend time with their families.

And here i am, locking the door to my room, eating all alone and away from them. Trying to block out the sounds of their voices. I don't think they notice. They're too busy yelling out in the hall.

My mother nags at my brother. My brother defies her. My father yells at both of them. My mother whines back. My brother sulks and snipes back. Sooner or later once the animals notice me, i'll get pulled in as well.Sometimes in the midst of all this yelling, i hug my mother, or brother. But the introduction of love seems to have no effect. It just continues.

My dog has more patience and love than all three of them.

Sometimes i feel like my chest is going to burst with all the frustration and tension.


I don't think they're ever going to understand how i feel. Human emotions to them are things to be laughed at. Nonsensical and weak.

I am the trouble-maker. The teenage garbage. All teenagers behave this way.
Well atleast i have an excuse. Whats yours? Got a reason for the way you behave?

Mental retardation perhaps?


I don't talk to them anymore. In Fact i don't even speak at all. I don't want to. I'm content to stay away. Silent.

Taffy at 10:13:00 PM

TEARS

I like to think our tears contain colours and scents.
There are different kinds of tears and each one a different colour and smell.

Tears of happiness, tears of hurt, of despair, of bitterness and of hate. There are tears of anger, of passion and then humiliation. And of course, crocodile tears. Or tears, that simply leak out for no rhyme or reason.

A whelm of emotions tide over and pour out of the windows to your soul. Because its those very emotions that have touched and filled your soul.

Your Soul they say, are woven with many threads of myriads of colours, shades of which even rainbows don't have.Each colour stains the nature of its tears.

Cry tears of happiness and out flows a flourescent yellow, radiant like sun beams, and accompanied by the scents of moonflower. An irony.

Tears of hate are red. Hot as coal, they carry they odour of sulphur and scorch the person inside out.

Keep any of these tears inside, and they turn to poison. Embittering you and turning you vile, green and sour.

A man who starts crying will never stop, and neither will he want to.

But a woman who STOPS crying?

Fades.

There will come a day, when grief so overbearing comes, and she loses her ability to weep.

Soon she ceases to see colours. The world turns cold and tombstone grey.

Lifeless. No longer does she take delight in green, budding leaves or red roses.Th pure white of clouds hold no glee.

She won't even see the colour of her favourite dress.

Go on long enough, and she'll lose her sense of taste and smell. And then what remains?

A corpse?

Perhaps.

Taffy at 10:24:00 PM

-Change-

Is good. I guess.
I don't think I am who I was any more.

This time, when I speak my mind, I mean it.
This time, I'm quiet, but I'm loud.
I guess, like they say, actions speak louder than words.
I only hope they count.

This time, I am past looking-inwards.
I'm not trying to be Miss. Sensitive,
I never will be.
Tactless, blunt, to the end. I Swear.

But you can count on me to be honest.
To myself firstly, and then to you.

I don't tell myself what I want to hear,
But what i need to hear.

At least i'm brave enough to do it.
SOMEONE needs to do it.

I hate whats going on.
Which is why i'm gonna change it.
CHANGE.

Taffy at 10:10:00 PM

Magic

Ever read a book that just shipped you away to a world that you thought was forgotten?

A world you once lived in, filled with lavender scents, and warm afternoons, and long, dreamless, deep sleeps, when every hurt healed and peace filled your bones? Where you whiled away your time under the shade of old trees, with the smell of sweet grass drying in the sun lulling you into a midday nap?

Where in the nights, the smell of soil lifts off the ground, and merge with the rays of moonshine, and together with the hum of insect life provide the perfect setting for story telling and secret sharing by little girls who dreamt of growing old together?

That when you flipped the pages of, you could almost smell the fresh air laced with lemon polish, and taste Indian Spice Tea?

For me these are memories brought alive whenever i read "Practical Magic". I think it even lives up to its name, the way every words seems to carry a sense of magic and mystery with it.

To me the book is a mix of citronella, and lavender, and old wood and old wives tales. To me its a reminder of a little forest, sandwiched between an old block of flats and a railway station, far away from the rest of the world. Quiet, and filled with lives passing thru.

Of a house where bedtime was 2 a.m. and, you woke up when you got hungry. Where it has book shelves filled with musty smelling books, infused with smells of lavender and moth balls. That no matter how many times you went thru, you'd find something new and strange.

Of a house where there was no sign of being touched by the rapidly modernising world outside.

Where pictures of strange idols and altars were considered holy. And when the June month settled in with its characteristic hot days, the rooms always seemed magically cooled by visiting breezes.

A house only visited during holidays, and when they came to end you wished you didn\'t have to leave it, not just because of the playmates you were leaving behind, but because of the place itself.

Childish games and innocence, grandmotherly love, and shared food, and hot cups of coffee during thunderstorms...

Thunderstorms when you huddle together under blankets, and watch the wind almost blow trees straight off the ground, and preceding which you can smell the rain coming and feel the wind blowing colder than normal. You just know when its gonna rain. You can smell it.

Smells...They hold memories better than any photograph or video. Burn an incense stick of Citronella, and it reminds me of all the various wood furnishings polished with lemon polish. Jasmine brings back wedding halls and prayer rooms, and fidgety afternoons spent in them memorising verses, while trying hard not to melt in our skirts.

The smells sometimes even become a burst of colours so strong they blind you.
It happens when you reminisce.


Most of all it reminds me of relationships, of ties that cannot be broken. Because they're ties forged with blood. And blood carries power. Blood carries life. In you, lives your ancestors, and thru you they live forever, etched in your genes, you carry their mistakes their experiences. And you are part of them.

No matter where you go, you carry them with you.

And its because i do that, that when ever i take a sip of coffee, or smell citronella incense, or drink tea, or just walk past any place that carries a particular smell. I think of my Granny's house. And not just smells, I hadn't found a place i could fall asleep in the way i did in that home, until i went to Nad's place. Its deep and soul healing. These things decided who i became. The familiarity i had with these smells and things, made me as i grew up, keep reaching back to it. For familiarity breeds understanding they say, and in order to understand the world i reached back to all i hold familiar, from time to time.
-------------------


Somethings missing. And something is building. I think its called ...desire.

Its all around me.

People desiring, for love, for time.

For things they cannot possibly have.

For a second chance.

The air is filled with sighs and if-onlys.

Its so strong it reaches in to you and pulls out a long sigh.

If i could colour it, it would be purple, the kind of purple that seems to carry a hint of regret and a shade of wants with it. That once it touches you, you're stained with melancholy.

I know everytime i see this colour, i'm going to be reminded of this season.

This season, where the heat was merciless, and the afternoons slow, and the evening windy and filled with trepidation of the unknown.Where in parts of the world people were rebuilding their lives washes away by angry tides.

Where in secret chambers of their hearts, some were mending broken dreams.



I feel... sad.

Taffy at 2:15:00 PM