omg, for the first time i tried to organize a trip. So many problems, i lost count. So i decided to write them down. So many problems with the girrrls, so many with the guys. (Mostly with girls, sorry to say)

1. Parents-
1a. No permission if its too far
1b. No permission if its for too many days.
1c. No permission if its all girls (not safe)
1d. No permission if there are any boys (not safe)
1e. No permission for trains ( how will you carry all your stuff AND find a taxi AND reach on time?) (This one actually left me speechless)
1f. No permission if any "kids" are driving (so unsafe)
1g. No permission if its too isolated.
1h. No permission if its too crowded.

2. Budget.

3. Place. Oh god, the place. Till the night before we are supposed to leave, we don't know where we're going. Some people have a problem because its too far, they have to get back on time (make that 1i), people just can't agree on a place!

4. How to get there. Cab..? Who'll arrange it..? It should be someone we can trust. It should be someone who won't squeal all.

5. Place.

6. What to do once we get to the place.

For heaven's sake, I just wanted to get out.

Asmi

I am me, without you
I am a mind of my own,
On my own
I am a thought, uninduced
Not influenced by sage or fool

I am the wisdom to know
I am the courage to ask
I am the strength in my bones
it takes to find my own path.

I am the wish to acquiesce
I am the will to resist
I am the desire to love, and be loved
I am the whim to loudly sing.

I am not the rainbow, above the clouds
For I am but one in a crowd.
But I am whole,
And I am me,
Because I am free.

Aristotle?? Nah.. me!

Tragedy causes a catharsis, purging the soul of base concepts, said Aristotle. How is that possible? Tragedy, trauma, even just unhappiness.. Doesn’t that invoke the very base concepts that remind us of our very mortality and humble existence that is governed by feelings like pain and grief? Instead of purging the soul, it fills it to the brim. Like what they say.. pain reminds you that you’re human. That’s what I’ve heard, anyway.

Tragedies are always beautiful when they’re not true. Stories of unconditional love.. always better when I know they’re not real. Take Romeo and his Juliet. I would cry and feel bitterly for their mercilessly interrupted love story, as long as I know it’s fictional. Somehow I would be highly sceptical if someone told me that they actually existed and died for each other. As if. Besides, that would just be dumb.
The cause for all this ranting is a movie I have just seen. It was an implicit portrayal of a director’s real love story with a movie star. And how he gives up everything for the schizophrenic actress who is desperately in need of help and love. Written by, of course, the director himself. It was such a blatant lie that I had to repeatedly get the thought out of my mind to enjoy the movie. It was, again, a beautiful tragedy as long as he doesn’t pretend that it is real. The whole thing leaves me with a queasy feeling in the tummy. God knows why.