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Posted in Rants and opinions

Fictional people and worlds

I prefer fictional people to real ones. That’s the sort of person I am. No offense to any of my friends reading this. Fictional people are amazing. No matter how flawed they are, I would rather spend time with them than anyone else. And that means that I tend to get emotionally attached to them. Particularly ones that I actually invent. They’re fully developed, amazing, very real people in my head before I’ve even put them down on paper. Sometimes they get a little lost in the process of me putting them down on paper. But that doesn’t matter too much to me. If I can’t show people how amazing these imaginary people are, whatever. At least I know.

Sometimes, I wonder how writers kill off their characters and make it seem like it was the easiest thing to do while leaving millions of readers devastated. I know I would have to kill one eventually if I keep writing. But I’d have to make that death count. Like really count. I will never let any of my good characters die in vain. I swear.

You know how fictional characters have the most amazing lives? They’re full of drama or adventure or near-death experiences or other things that are as far from normal as one end of the universe is from the other. My exaggeration is a little over the top, but you get the point. I can’t help being jealous of them because my life is seriously mundane. It’s as mundane as anything could get and it’s boring. If being bored was a talent, I’d be the most talented person in the multiverse. The point is, the word “Boring” defines my life.

So rambling about how awesome fictional people are is my average interesting day. Stuff doesn’t get more exciting this. Rarely, if ever. I forgot why I started writing this in the first place, but I’ll tell you something. This post perfectly sums up why I spend so much time reading and writing. I’d rather live in an imaginary world all the time than in the real one. Reading and writing help me do that. Besides, the real world is a terrible, terrible place.

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The Patient

Salut mes amis! So I write these kind of incomplete short stories that I think are pretty good. I’m a good writer(not to toot my own horn). Anyway, this is one of them. I like being the person who posts the randomest things on her blog. I can write anything, I guess. So I’m adding my short stories to the list of things I can write here. So, yeah. Here it is.

Dr. Pillsbury softly tapped the arm of her cream leather chair. She looked into the doleful grey eyes of her patient as she tried to get him to talk about his feelings. “Did you ever want something so badly that you were ready to do anything to get it? Even kill for it.”, Mr. Riverton asked. Dr. Pillsbury fidgeted with the pearls around her neck. “Do you want something that badly right now?”, she asked. “Why can’t any therapists ever give straight answers? You’re always being cryptic or replying to questions with your own ‘rhetorical’ questions! Yes. I do want something that badly.” Mr. Riverton looked down at his large feet, seeming a little embarrassed.

“For once, Dr. Pillsbury, just answer my question. Have you ever wanted something so badly you would do anything, I mean anything for it?” “Yes. I have.”, she replied with a straight face. She betrayed no emotions and no thoughts. Her whole job was about her patients and she focused on getting them to deal with themselves and the deep, dark parts of their minds.

“Tell me then, Dr. Pillsbury. What was it you wanted?” Samuel Riverton stared at her, waiting for her answer. He sat opposite to her, just a little distance away. His hair was dark and curly, she noticed, unlike her own blonde locks. He was a big man. He had broad shoulders and a burly figure. He could overpower me easily if it came to that, she thought. He scared her. She didn’t know why. He licked his lips slowly. It made Anne Pillsbury uncomfortable, but once again, she showed no emotion.

“I don’t talk about myself with my patients. At least not unless I think it will help.” “It will help. More than you think. So please, tell me.” Mr. Riverton pulled his couch a little closer. He observed Dr. Pillsbury’s face. Her dark eyes, the wisps of golden hair around her heart shaped face, the curve of her eyebrows, her full lips, the faded scar on her chin. He noticed everything as she spoke.

“My sister’s boyfriend. I was in love with him and I wanted him. I did some terrible things to get him. So yes, I have definitely gone through what you seem to be dealing with right now. So what is it that you want?” “No. We’re not done talking about you, Dr. Pillsbury. How did you get him? Your sister’s boyfriend.”

Anne hesitated. She didn’t like the direction the session was going in. It was almost like she’d switched places with her patient. But she answered anyway. “I doctored some pictures and made it look like my sister had cheated on him. Then I comforted him after he dumped her. He fell in love with me and then married me. But I regret what I did. The guilt eats away at me all the time. Now let’s get back to you, Samuel. What do you want so badly?”

Samuel smiled slyly. He leaned forward so close to her that she could feel his warm, minty breath on her face. “You. Anne Pillsbury. I want you. And I’m willing to do anything.” Anne jumped back, her eyes wide. Samuel laughed, like he had expected that to happen. His maniacal laughter rang in Anne’s ears.

The sound of his terrifying cackling was the last thing on her mind before Samuel lunged at her with a knife in his hand and slit her throat. She bled out on the floor as her whole life flashed before her eyes. Every horrible thing she ever did consumed her mind in the last few seconds of her life.

Samuel waited to see the life leave her eyes. He put her carcass in a body bag which he wrapped in the large carpet on the floor. He’d been waiting for that moment. He was going to stuff her pretty head and mount it on a wall. He walked out the building just like he had come in and disappeared into the crowd with a rolled carpet on his shoulder.

A poem on depression 

The world’s as dark

As can possibly be.

I’m locked inside myself,

And I can’t get free.

The world’s also blank,

Like a page without words.

As empty as I am,

So empty it hurts.

I’m surrounded by people,

But I’m still all alone

My mind’s in a scary place,

And I’m on my own.

I’m trapped in a cage,

I can’t get out

I can’t seem to breathe

Or see or shout.

I’m drowning,

Sinking really fast,

But someone’s hand

Reaches for me at last.

The world’s growing bright,

I’m finally free

I’m not empty anymore,

I can breathe, I can see.

Things are different now,

I know I’ll survive

I crawled out from the darkness,

And I’m glad to be alive.

Depression is a big deal and it’s often treated like it’s something that just disappears eventually, something that’s not important enough to pay attention to. But it’s not something to take lightly. It has to be treated with compassion and empathy. Mental health is just as important as anything else. I wrote this poem to talk about depression and how big a deal it is, but also to say that it’s possible to come out of it. That suicide doesn’t have to be the only option. That there are things in the world to live for. And that there are people in the world who care and can help. And I want to believe that there’s always hope in the world. That we just have to look for it.

Posted in Rants and opinions, Why?

Why parent-teenager relationships suck

Here’s a question that occurs to a lot of people. Why is it so difficult for parents to be friends with their teenage kids? Seriously, why? Why is it that when we hit puberty, our friends become way more important that our parents? We don’t talk to our parents anymore. We don’t think they get us. We don’t think they’re cool. So here’s my opinion on this.

The thing about being a teenager is that we want to be treated like adults, but we’re still treated like kids. And yes, we’re moody and hormonal and stubborn, but even our parents were teenagers once. They’ve been through it too. That’s got to count for something. Except it doesn’t seem to help them when it comes to connecting with us.

One reason why is because they’re from a different time. When they were young, they didn’t have so many distractions as they so often remind you. They didn’t have gadgets and video games and bla bla bla and they went “outside” and played with their friends and bla bla bla and listened to music that wasn’t loud and offensive and bla bla bla. You get where this is going. But here’s the thing. I think that my parents’ generation is annoyingly opposed to change. They refuse to adapt. They think everything in their time was way cooler than things now. I’m not saying this applies to everyone or that it’s a bad thing really, but see why it’s difficult for them to connect with us? But, hey, it’s not entirely their fault though. We’re not ready to try and listen to the sort of music they like or try to do things the way they used to. We’re not trying at all. But come on! They’re the ones who want to be involved in our lives. We’re not asking for it.
Speaking of being involved in our lives, some of them try too hard. They make too big a deal of everything. That makes it difficult for us to want to communicate with them. About anything. They interfere in everything particularly things that you’d want to handle yourself. And it’s so not cool when you get your parents involved in something serious at school because then you’re just a snitch.

And that last statement leads me to peer pressure. I wish it didn’t exist, but it does. And peer pressure is what gives you an idea of what’s considered cool and what’s not. Adults seem to forget that peer pressure exists in school. It’s what leads us, sometimes, to think our parents aren’t cool. And it also leads us, in some cases, to do things we probably shouldn’t do. And in cases like that, it’s probably good for parents to get involved, but I think they need to give us a little room to figure things out for ourselves first. We want to be treated like adults, remember? We want to feel like we can take our own decisions and deal with things on our own. And I think we need a little bit of that freedom. To make mistakes and learn from them. But yes, we also need to know our parents are there for us in case we mess up really bad.

My point is, we want our parents to try to understand us and connect with us, but we also need them to give us a little space and a little freedom to feel like independent individuals who can do things on their own. And sometimes, we don’t need them to be our friends. A million times more than that, we need them to be our parents i.e. responsible adults who can reprimand us for doing stupid things because they love us and want us to learn.

Posted in Rants and opinions

Gun control in the U.S.

So you probably know about the school shooting in Florida. If you don’t, you’ve clearly been living under a rock. Let me drag you out from under that nice, shady rock. So, on the 14th of this month, a 19-year-old named Nikolas Cruz killed 17 people in Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida. He had mental health issues. And he’d been expelled from the school. And he planned a shooting. And it turned out to be one of the worst school massacres.

I don’t live in the US. What Donald Trump does has no direct effect on me. These shootings are horrible, but they happened in a whole other part of the world so they don’t directly affect me. But no matter where in the world you live, you give a damn about what happens in the United States. I don’t know why everyone cares so much. But that’s just how it is. Even I care. And because I just love inflicting my opinions on people, this is what I think.

This incident isn’t surprising. When I hear “Shooting in the US”, what I end up thinking is “Again?”, because it just keeps happening. And every time it happens, it’s like a wake-up call for the US, but it doesn’t last very long because the country just falls asleep again. Gun control debates begin, but they don’t get anywhere. This happened after the Las Vegas shooting, this probably happened after all of the other, previous shootings and it’s happening now. Gun control debates that just go around in circles. This time, we have victims of the shooting advocating gun control. Teenagers who were there and saw people they know die. You’re thinking something good might happen now. You’re thinking maybe some laws would be changed and that they’d make it more difficult for a person to get a gun. You’re thinking they’ll finally do something about it.

But then President Trump comes up with the ingenious idea to train and arm teachers to prevent school shootings. Wow. Students and teachers were shot at in a school. They saw people die. They had a barrel of a gun pointed at their heads. So why don’t we bring more guns into the picture? Yeah. Great idea. President Trump sure is a “stable genius”. No offense to anyone who actually supports the guy or whatever.

Now I’m going to come to the fact that there were cops outside the school a little after the shooting started. They did nothing. They just stayed outside. And to hear Trump talk about how he would’ve run into the school unarmed if he had been there was ridiculous because personally, I don’t think he would’ve done anything.

Anyway, if it isn’t clear enough already, I support gun control in the U.S. Not that my opinion matters much because I live in India. It doesn’t really affect me at the moment. I want to go to the U.S. later so it’ll affect me then. Unless they do something about it now.

But it seems to me that it’s too easy to get your hands on a gun in the U.S. And there are too many people dying because of that. No one’s talking about getting rid of guns entirely. That’s not what should happen. They’re required sometimes. Self-defence and all that. I get it. They just have to make the gun laws more strict so that a 19-year-old with mental health issues can’t get a gun to kill 17 people in a high school. And so that any other kind of shooting doesn’t happen either. I mean seriously, how many more casualties are there going to be next time?

Posted in Inspiration, Reviews

I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings -Maya Angelou

‘I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings’ is the first book in a series of autobiographies by the African-American poet, writer, civil rights activist and my namesake, Maya Angelou. It is the most well known and most critically acclaimed book out of the 7 autobiographies. The book talks of Maya’s childhood and coming of age.

It barely took me any time to fall in love with Maya Angelou. Some friends of mine joked about it, saying it was because we shared a name and I’ll admit that maybe that’s a part of it (I am sort of obsessed with my name), but it’s also so much more than that. Maya was incredibly inspiring. She was strong and intelligent and persistent even through the toughest times in her life.

Being an African-American in Southern USA during a time when racism was rampant, it was difficult. Despite having to deal with racism, Maya also constantly felt like she didn’t belong anywhere. Her parents abandoned her and her brother when she was only 3 years old and she spent her early years in Arkansas with her grandmother. For a while, ‘white’ people barely seemed real to her. But later on, she started to feel the effects of racism. Due to her feeling of not belonging anywhere and the lack of any sort of physical affection in her life, she went through a horrible experience. She was raped when she was 8 years old and she didn’t even know enough to realize that it wasn’t her fault. She blamed herself for it and refused to talk to anyone, but her brother after the incident. The incident made her precocious and affected her life in ways she wasn’t quite equipped to deal with. But she pulled through anyway.

Maya had strong women in her life to look up to like her grandmother (Momma) and her mother (Vivian Baxter). She endured everything that came her way. She shunned the racist ideals in the world around her and as an act of defiance, she became the first black streetcar conductor in San Francisco. She went through so many things and came out stronger. All of this made her so inspiring. The book, ‘I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings’ was beautiful and it gave me a look into the early stages of Maya’s life while also making me aspire to be strong and brave and amazing like she was. Even her poems are very meaningful and the one I took a particular liking to was ‘Still I Rise’. The first few lines lines of the poem are:

You may write me down in history

    With your bitter, twisted lies.

    You may trod me in the very dirt

   But still, like dust, I’ll rise.”

She’s my most recent obsession and she is absolutely brilliant. I have 6 more autobiographies and a lot of poems to read which I’m totally looking forward to. The cool part about this is that we share a name! That’s awesome! Even though ‘Maya’ wasn’t her actual name. You’ll know how she got the name if you read the book. Sharing a name with her doesn’t make me any greater as a person, but I know that I want to be like her.

Posted in Rants and opinions

Confessions of an awkward teenage girl

I’m awkward. And if you’re awkward, you know what it’s like. I’m so uneasy around people that it’s difficult for me to make friends. I struggle to make conversation with people and I honestly have no idea how others do it. It annoys the hell out of me when I just can’t think of anything to say to someone. And for an awkward teenager like me, being the new kid in school is the absolute worst. 

It has been seven months since school started and I still only know a minute fraction of the people in my grade. Barely anybody at school knows I exist. But I’m not saying I don’t like myself because of it. I love myself. And I preach about embracing imperfection and accepting our flaws so I kind of have to love myself. But sometimes it’s  just hard to get over the fact that I’m awkward. There’s this voice in my head that keeps whispering, “Honey, in case you haven’t realized, you’re invisible. And unless you don’t mind, you should probably do something about it.” So every morning I decide, “Today I’m going to talk to someone new. I’m going to initiate a conversation and maybe I’ll make a friend.” But I never follow through. 

I guess some part of me thought, when the academic year began, that my so called ‘awesomeness’ would just bring people to me and I wouldn’t have to try. Who was I kidding though? I guess I also overlooked the fact that I’m weird and moody and those things don’t exactly make me very amiable. And then I realized there were people in the world who were naturally charming and goofy and instantly likeable and I could never compete with them.

It’s been 6 days since the beginning of 2018 and I have two resolutions. One is not to skip breakfast and that I’ve actually managed to do. The other one is to make an effort to be just a little less awkward and try to get to know my classmates. I haven’t made much of an effort yet, but I plan to start next week. So good luck to me! I really hope I follow through this time. But I’m only here for another year and then I’m going off to college so I don’t suppose it’s that bad a thing if it doesn’t work out. I’ll have a chance to start over and make an impression, so I think I’ll be fine either way.

My current playlist.

Listen to ‘Dusk till Dawn’ by Zayn and Sia if you haven’t already! That song is amazing and I can’t get it out of my head! I’ve been playing it on a loop lately and I’m obsessed! And I think Zayn and Sia’s voices go together really well! I kind of just had to mention it! That’s what’s on my playlist right now! Oh wait. And other than that, ‘Despacito’ may have started to die down a little, but it’s still an amazing, really catchy song. Also listen to ‘Stay’ by Zedd and Alessia Cara and ‘No Promises’ by Cheat Codes and Demi Lovato. And that’s it. That’s all I have to say for now. Au revoir!