The Fault In Our Stars - Troye Sivan (Official Music Video)

Such a beautiful song inspired by a brilliant book. <3 Please watch. Troye Sivan - Fault In Our Stars

Italy.

Ciao, bella gente.
Italy. What comes to your mind when you think of Italy?
Pizza? Spaghetti? Lasagne? Fashion? Men? Wine?
I'll tell you what comes to my mind.
Beauty, Love, Gelato and Talking with your hands.
I love Italy. Really. With all my heart.
The one time I went to Italy, I was almost 12.
I was so excited. My family and I went to Rome. We lived in a convent.
Okay, now don't laugh. These nuns have this hotel type thing. They rent out rooms to tourists, etc. Anyway, I was in Rome and I was 11. I loved the place. I loved walking down the street and looking at these gorgeous people laugh, fight, talk. I  observed how these plump, rosy cheeked Italian women haggled with the men over fruit and exotic looking vegetables and delicious meats. Roma was beautiful. Enchanting.
Alas, when you're with family, especially if they're Indian, they don't do much. Sure, we went sight seeing, visited the Vatican, ate pizza, etc. But we didn't really sample la bellezza che è l'Italia. Thank God for Google Translate.
I've seen enough movies set in Italy. read books romanticizing the inviting place and its people. I mean, who didn't fall in love with Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck zooming around on a Vespa? Or become envious watching Julia Roberts eat a whole lot of food and drink too much wine by herself in Eat, Pray and Love? Or  wished they had a villa like the one in Under the Tuscan Sun?
But what really made me want to go to Italy again was discovering the love the city of Verona holds while I watched Letters to Juliet.
I want to go to Italy. Learn to talk Italian and haggle with vendors and be dramatic by throwing my arms in the air.
I want to own a little cottage. Or stay at a vineyard. I want to become an apprentice in a little restaurant tucked away deep in the city of Roma.
I want to go to Naples and fear getting mugged while eating the best pizza in the world.
I want to sample Wine and walk around in the Italian countryside.
And I don't mind doing all this by myself. And I will. With my own money.
Yes, yes, this is all talk. I'm only 18.
But this is a promise to myself.
So, I'm going to start off by learning Italian.
Then I shall work to get the money for all this.
And then I'll spend a month in Italy. At least.
1 week in Milan.
1 week in Verona.
1 week in Tuscany.
1 week in Rome.
This will just be something for me. Discovering a culture, one might say.
All by myself. 

The world is going cray cray.

I liked it when I didn't know what was awaiting me in the future.
I liked it when I didn't have to make tough choices and worry about inane things.
I liked it when all I worried about was my Marathi exam (UGH, I HATED that subject) and if I would do well in my weekly Algebra exam.
I liked it when I didn't know where the duck I was going to college.
In short, I liked the 10th grade.
It was freeing and worry free.
Well, too bad I don't have a Time Turner. Or a Tardis. Or a good ol' Hot Tub Time Machine (Ahhh, that was a fun movie). I could do with a Hot Tub though.
Now I actually have to make a choice! Between colleges! *cue bratty spoilt girl tantrum and whining*
Yes, I'm still a spoilt bitch.
So yeah, me.
I've had this anger thing going on.
Its undeniably creepy.
When I'm angry, I can feel my anger travelling to my fingertips like sparks.
Like I said. It's creepy.
From this, I concluded that I'm turning into a werewolf. Embracing my animalistic side.
If I do, I'm definitely going to be an Alpha.
Hell, yeah.
Meh, I'm weird like that.
So. College.
That's going to be fun.
Drunken parties and late nights out? Whatevs.
Fun Karaoke parties and midnight walks that turn into drunken gatherings? Fuck yeah.
Like I said, I'm a weird child.
Who's going to college.
All alone.
Living by myself.
On a budget.
Without my mommy.
Cue the quarter life crisis.
Bye munchkins,
Tall Girl M.

WHAT IF.

I got into both my dream schools.
No, not one. But two.
NYU and Sarah Lawrence.
By now you must be like, "Why is this slut so stupid and annoying? Why ain't she jumpin' in the air like a dayum kangaroo?"
WHY? BECAUSE I HAVE TO CHOOSE.
Boohoo, yeah, I need a cookie, whatever.
Yes, yes, children are dying in Africa and I'm crying over choosing between two top notch schools.
I geddit, I'm a selfish bitch.
BUT right now, I don't care. I don't feel guilty.
4 years of my life depend on this.
My entire career might depend on this.
I can't pick the wrong one.
How do I pick the right school for me?
How does one decide between two dreams?
Your most cherished dreams.
Only one. Pick one.
Can you?
Is it easy?
Will your heart break?
Your eyesight blur with salt and water?
Over memories that didn't take place?
People you would've met had you chosen the other path?
Would that path have been better?
Or worse?
What will you choose.
What will you do.

I'm such a drama queen.
Love,
Tall Confused Girl.

Mildly terrifying.

Just.
What.
I can't even..
See there? I now have this annoying habit of not completing my sentences since I've started using Tumblr. Like, to express something, we don't even complete what we have to say and we just KNOW what the other Tumbling peep is feeling.
Which is annoying to the rest of the world.
But who cares?
I don't even

Yeah, so I'm just sitting around on my laptop at the dead of night waiting for University decisions. Which mostly end up being rejections but I oddly don't seem to care.
I don't seem to care about a lot of things these days. Like I have to do something about this. I can't just sit around and eat cheesecake and be all la di fucking da all day. I HAVE TO TRY SOMETHING.
And this is when life starts to terrify me.
What am I doing with me life?
WHY DON'T I CARE ANYMORE?
I used to give a lot of fucks about a lot of fucking things. (Sorry for the overtly annoying swearing)
But now, I'm just so... BLAH.
I hate being BLAH. Being BLAH sucks.
And now Wattpad has ruined my life. RUINED.
SO FUCKING ADDICTING.
Its not even funny how addicting it is. Like seriously!
XOXO,
Not Gossip Girl.

Dafuq is my life.

Effervescent. Enigmatic. Exciting. Ecstatic.
That, puffballs, is how I feel about my future.
2 rejections and 1 acceptance and I feel elated.
Why? Because I'm going to university, bitches.
I am going and making my dent in the world! I don't know how, but I will.
But how am I going to survive?
For the 18 years that I have graced this world with my bubbling presence, I have lived surrounded by a close family and a melange of friends. Never have I felt alone. I've never lived alone for a long period of time! I've never had to survive on a particular budget! I never had to do my own laundry or cook every day or go buy groceries for myself all the time!
I really need to stop whining, I know.
BUT I AM TERRIFIED.
That sense of security will be lacking for a while.
I can't help it.
It's a HUGE transition.
And its coming closer.
I can't wait for it but I'm hopelessly dreading it at the same time.
And my mother doesn't want me to go. She's freaking out too.
But I can't show her that I'm freaking out or she'll force me to stay.
I WANT TO GO. But I don't.
Its a lot to put down. My thoughts are going in a million directions about this.
So I can't really convey what I feel.
This is as far as I can go.
All my Love,
Tall Girl M.

Freaking out like a headless chicken with wonky legs.

So, I casually logged on to my Facebook this week, as per routine. And I saw these bunch of people from my school updating statuses about getting into university. And I started getting what I like to call 'quarter life crisis' So this is how my thought process went for about an hour:
OMGOMGOMGOMG These people got into university already. They have places to go. I haven't got any replies. WhatAmIDoingWithMyLife. Omg omg omg omg. This guy applied to the same university as me and got in. We sent our packets around the same time! Why haven't I got a reply? Does this mean they'll reject me? NOOOO That was my backup. Which means no school I applied to will accept me. All my friends are going to go to good universities in the US, UK, Canada and I'm going to be here. Alone. Who would want to talk the lame - o who didn't get in anywhere? And Im never going to go to Harvard Law. I'll never be a lawyer in New York! I'm not going to own a brownstone! I'm going to have to get married early to a fat Gujju guy and bear three kids who'll be named Jas or Suresh.
Oh My God.
My life is over.

There you have it. 

Why all my future beaus will break up with me and run for the hills.

I have parents.
Indian parents.
Who think they're all progressive and in with the 'lingo'.
Yep, my mum and dad are nutters.
They're like normal parents but boy, do they have their quirks.
I have never introduced boys I like to my parents and I hardly ever tell them who I like.
They found about my first crush when I was about 12 -ish.
They proceeded to tease me for months everytime they saw him (we lived in the same neighborhood) and then call him names (privately) and generally took the mickey out of me.
I love them, I do. I probably inherited all my weirdness from them as well.
My mum likes singing in a high pitched voice and bugging me. She likes talking in weird accents and thinks its hilarious. She also does weird exercises like jaw exercises. She likes creeping up on me and asking me things in quiet little whispers. If she thinks one of my guy friends are cute she'll tell me to 'reel him in'. And she makes crude and inappropriate jokes about anything and anyone.
My friends find her hilarious.
I live with her. It isn't.
My dad once asked me if I was lesbian. Once, when he was a little tipsy he told all his colleagues at dinner that I was a mistake but the best mistake he ever made. He likes saying things like 'Yo, dude' to me. He makes fun of everything and I do, and he has an account on Instagram. For no reason. He makes outrageous  statements and he gave me my first alcoholic drink at 11. And hookah.
I have crazy but awesome parents.
I'm pretty sure when I introduce my future boyfriend to my parents this is how its going to go,
Mum: "Hello! Hello! I'm Veena, Mahak's mum. You must be (let's call him Bob for now) Bob! Sit, have a chicken wing!"
Dad: "Hi Bob. Nice to meet you. I'm Nikhil." *proceeds to shake hands with Bob* . "Can I get you a drink? Wine? Vodka? Rat poison? Kidding"
Bob: *overwhelmed* "Uhhh. Hi?"
Mum: *stage whisper* "Not very articulate, is he?"
Me: "MUM!"
Bob: "Nice to meet you.... Oh God! Is that the time? My cat needs surgery!"
Me: "Noooo BOB! COME BACK!"
Mum: "He has a cat? Let him go. I hate cats. Such horrible creatures"
Dad: "You said it. Let's eat"
.......
Maybe, I'm exaggerating but this could TOTALLY happen.

John Hughes did not direct my life.

I have a cloud of messy, straight hair which curls a little at the bottom.
When I was little I apparently had a cloud of the curliest hair in the neighborhood. Which people loved and adored and loved to muss and pat. But then suddenly, POOF! It turned straight. I always knew I was secretly a witch..... this doesn't make sense.
Anywayyyy, even though I lost all my curls, people still doted on my big eyed, chubby cheeked, cherubic self. That's what I was told anyway. And then, I met my soul friends. My lifelong sisters, my 'gang'. And we were a blissful family until I moved when I was 14 from my family's 2 bedroom hall kitchen terrace flat from the depths of a happy and friendly community to a bigger 4 bedroom hall kitchen flat deeper in the suburbs in all albeit detached community. I didn't have any neighborhood friends 'cos well, all the kids were about 8 years younger than me. Bleh.
So I kept to myself in my new bedroom with a little balcony, looking out of the window, sighing and wishing I had my friends around.
However, I digress.
You may think its vain to talk about my hair, but the one thing I particularly covet and love about myself is my hair.
My hair isn't particularly messy but it changes according to my moods, on its own. I kid you not. On days I feel particularly relaxed and happy of sorts with a sense of calm, my hair looks like a flowing river with little waves rippling at the end. On days that I'm hurried or forgetful it looks like billowing, black smoke swirling around in the air and on days that I'm upset, its just straight. No life. Just straight. I believe everyone has little telltale signs (I think I'm a minor Metamorphagus).  Contrary to popular belief, I'm not always in la la land, I do observe things. For instance, a friend of mine starts to absently pick at things when he's in a bad mood. Now this may be quite common but its something a person tends to overlook. He picks at little things. If we're in a coffee shop he starts looking absentmindedly at a menu, or picking up the little table number thing and playing with it, or he'll take my ring off my finger or even start playing with my scrunchie. And I know that he's either hiding something from me, which is probably the problem, or he's upset with me, which hardly ever happens. Maybe I notice this because he's my best friend, and we're mostly in sync, which is weird for us since we've never been in sync with anyone before. Now you must be like, 'Girllll, you his girlfriend. There ain't no platonic shizz going on here'. (I have no idea why I imagined someone saying this in a ghetto accent. I love ghetto accents. They be cool) But naw, I'm not his girlfriend. I'm just his future wife, apparently. That is, if no one wants either of us as their spouses which is probably true seeing as we're a pair of messed up individuals with abandonment issues. But we've made it clear, he wants me for - um - a particular part or parts of my body and I want him for his bungalow. Oh yeah, he lives in  this kickass old timey bungalow which is the coolest thing EVER. Now if John Hughes directed my life, I'd probably help him hook up with the girl he loves and in the end he'd realize I'm the one for him and he'd fall in love with me and we'd ride off in the sunset in his battered old car (P.S. The movie is Some Kind of Wonderful. Gah. I love it). But, that would be too cliched wouldn't it? Eh. I still want his bungalow.
Laugh on , munchkins.
Weepy Tall Girl.

The World Needs more Nikhil Khodas.

Right. So I don't read books by Indian authors normally. I mean, I have read some but a majority of Indian authors don't really cater to the sci-fi / fantasy genre. At least I don't know any who do. 

But I was recently introduced to a book called the 'Zoya Factor', by a friend of mine who couldn't stop gushing about it. So I borrowed her book and started reading. And boy, I couldn't put it down.

It humorously represented Indian mentality about superstitions,cricket, living in cities, the arranged shaadi, etc. You get my point, no? 

I'm just going to talk about the main hero.

And boy, he is a SEX BOMB.

Most Indian girls fan girl over - sorry for lapsing into Indian-ness - goras (basically any Western, non- Indian individual) 

But once you read about Nikhil Khoda, ANY man lovin' person in the WORLD would want him. I can't seem to put it down in writing, but I can assure you, he is the first Indian character in a book that really fascinated me. Somehow, when I do imagine Nikhil Khoda, Kunal Kapoor comes to my mind. I don't know why but he does. Although, I really can't think of any Indian actor who could portray him. 

Nikhil Khoda is about thirty, tall, tan and with Boost-brown coloured eyes. 

He's dominating but sensitive, determined but gentle and an all round GREEK GOD. 

I would make Tumblr account dedicated to him and Zoya (that lucky bitch).

Anuja Chauhan's (the author) play with words, colourful descriptions and Indian anecdotes will leave you clutching your sides in raucous laughter. Its a brilliant book to read when you're down or bored. Its light and did I mention it was funny? 'Cos it was funny. 

BUY AND READ NOW!

Love,

Tall Girl M fangirling over Nikhil Khoda. 

ALWAYS.

Rap that makes sense to me.

So I was recently introduced to this duo known as 'Macklemore X Ryan Lewis'
Some of their songs are quite of the party-ish and clubby kind and are really fun to listen to while some raise an issue. Macklemore is actually a really good rapper, and I don't even like rap that much but honestly, he's good.
Listen to this for example. It talks about addiction and the actual problems pertaining to it. Its quite brilliant, actually. It can help so many people.
Check out their other video titled 'Same Love' about marriage equality. Truly inspiring.
Don't let the man get you down!
Tall Girl M.

You shoot me down, but I won't fall. Hell no, I ain't titanium.

The sun is (was) shining, the wind is making my nose feel cold and I have a trunkload of work to complete.
Another normal day, then.
Today, imaginary audience, I'd like to talk about my insane 'feels' about not feeling good.
Does that make sense? Ehhh.... Don't answer that, little purple imaginary puffballs.
I had my SLC interview. It was Puhrettyyy good. If I get in, I will TWERK. Yes, I will. Mmhmm. I swear on my mother's third born. Who is incidentally, me.
Lovies, you can't feel happy ALL the time now, can you?
Well if you do, I want some of what you're smoking.
So, you can't always NATURALLY feel happy, now, can you?
Well, I don't.
Nuh uh.
So people can ignore me, fight with me, call me names, bitch about me, annoy me, be mad at me, insult me,
push me down for no reason, push me away for no reason, but I'll always bounce back.
It may not be one of those happy, smiley bobo doll bounces but more like a feeble dribble of a basketball.
But no matter what, I will be fine. Sort of.
I'll lock myself away for weeks and probably distance myself from everyone and everything I love and then eventually cry for 2 hours but I'll be okay.
My recovery time varies. Meh.
And that's just how I've been brought up. I don't honestly stay on one topic for that long because of the millions of ideas zooming through my head. I won't be mad at someone for too long because I really don't give a fuck after a while. I may distance myself and be weird but I'll come back. I always do. And it doesn't take too long.
My moods change in the blink of an eye. Literally. Speculate away, but that's how I am. That's WHO I am and I'm probably never going to change that. For anybody.
The power of love, dear hobbits.
The power of all consuming love.
Arriverdeci,
Tall Girl.

You make me feel like I've been locked outta heaven.

Random title, I know. I don't normally listen to songs by Bruno Mars, but boy I've been playing this song on repeat for a while now. 'Ze beats are awezome. AWEZOME.
Soooo, I've got news for whoever reads this bloggggg.
I have now started a second blog! Now, now, I'll still act like a fool on this one with the exception that my strange rants will be posted here while my poems, short stories, etc. will be uploaded there. If you want you can check 'em out HERE!
SO if you feel like you don't get enough of me, you can check out my depressing shizz. woohoo.
Later this week, I plan to talk about:
1) School shizz
2) My eyebrows (sigh)
3) Youtubers!
4) Teeny boppy songs.

Keep on reading!
That Kooky Girl.

P.S. BANANA PANCAKES ARE THE BOMB!

And we kissed, as though nothing could fall.

Heroes by David Bowie.

Now this song is just brilliant. The epitome of brilliance. Its fantastic. Its beautiful. Its heart stopping-butterflies in the stomach - goosebumps rising good.

This song inspires me in every way. 

I originally was going to post something earlier about this song, but I got sidetracked. Teehee.

This song would be the theme song to a sitcom based on my life. Well, God forbid that should happen. T'would be the weirdest and creepiest sitcom ever. Oh yes it would. Mmhmm. *finger snaps*
Right, back to the song.
This song is my go to song. Its what I listen to anytime, anywhere. It makes me feel beyond myself, beyond everything and anything. It makes me feel like I'm gliding across everyone and everything. Maybe its just me, or maybe its just the song. But try this: Play the song on your speakers if you're alone somewhere and listen to it with your eyes half closed or on your earphones if you're in a crowded place. Just take it all in and you might get that same trippy feeling I ended up getting.
It was like my first joint,
my first high,
my first drunken experience.
It was hedonistic and strange. Beautiful but sad. Sweet and bitter.
T'was a force to reckon.

And you, you will be Queen. And I, I will be King.
For nothing, nothing can keep us together,
We can beat them,
Forever and ever.

Sprint to the sun and back,
Tall Girl M.

Sitting at a railway station, got a ticket to my destination...

"On a tour of one night stands
 My suitcase and guitar in hand
 And every stop is neatly planned for a poet and a one-man band

 This wave is stringing us along ,

 Just know you're not alone,

 'Cos I'm gonna make this place your home"

Today, I write about home. What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you come across this word? 'Home'? Say it out loud. Feel your lips move while pronouncing the 'O' and closing around the 'Mm'. It rolls across your tongue familiarly, does it not? The first things that come to my mind are Warmth. Comfort. Heart. Sometimes  Love. That's why you can have more than one Home. Home doesn't necessarily mean a structure of cement and plaster which contains your bed, your kitchen, your TV, your couch. Home can be anywhere - a bench in a park on a sunny day, a tree, a library, a playground, a store, a restaurant or even someone's arms *sigh*. Home is where you feel safe and good about yourself. 

Now, thinking about me leaving home for university frightens THE LIVING BEJEEZUS OUTTA ME. I have a friggin' network of people I depend on daily. Firstly, my mother. How will I live without my mother? And I don't mean the cooking or the cleaning. I can handle that fine. But how will I handle my colds or fevers or random cravings and my tantrums? I CAN'T HANDLE MY TANTRUMS. I think I'm going to cry. 

While I think I'll love living on my own and having all that freedom (cue me in sunglasses in a convertible with a top down driving at top speed singing , 'FREEDOMMMMM! FREEDOMMMM! FRREEEEDOMMMM!' with my long, shiny black hair swirling in the wind. *sigh* ) Pshhh, like my dad's ever going to trust me with a car. He doesn't even trust me with goldfish. Meh, I don't blame him.

ANYWHO, 

Home. Home is my bed, my mum's lap, my balcony, the coffee shop 5 minutes away, my best friend's arms, my other best friend's shoulder, my bathroom (shush, don't laugh. My bathroom is  pretty and warm.), my couch, my dressing table and the accompanying stool, the bookstore 10 minutes away. And this just proves that I will make a new home, with new people in a new place. I will get the warmth, comfort and love one way or another. 

Ramble on munchkins,

Tall Girl M.

Why I Wish I Liked Girls.

Now I've witnessed something fairly consistently lately.
Boys complain and cry about how girls don't ever give them a chance and that they'll never ever ever get someone because they're not good looking or they don't have the fit and sexxayyy body.
But the truth is, boys don't give the girls a chance.
They'll see 'hot', 'skinny' girls and say they're harlots and 'blondes' and they have an attitude problem, but in my opinion, boys are the one objectifying women.
They're quick to judge.
Even if they don't look that good - okay let's not talk about looks. Yes, they matter for most people, but the individual has to be NICE. Has to have some tact and sensitivity.
I know plenty of girls who are nice looking, not Hot, but Nice. Cute. And they are SUCH FRIGGIN' AMAZING PEOPLE.
But boys.
BOYS.
They complain about the bitches and  call the nice ones 'ugly' or 'fat' or 'annoying'.
Boys, if a really Hot girl is paying a LOT of attention to you, and you if you are a RECLUSE WITH NO MORALS AND NO SENSE OF PERSONAL GROOMING, then I hate to break it to you, Hottie's using you for something. Now I'm not saying all Hot girls are that way. I know a lot of them who are sweet and generally loving peeps and I know some who are dating the guys from the 'Not' column. Why? Because those guys are PURE GOLD.
Gah. I don't know what brought this on. I guess it was just germinating in the recesses of my brain.
Goodnight,
That Tall Girl.