What are real ramblings?

I’m giving myself 10 minutes to write this. No editing, no going back and erasing the part of myself that lay in the black and white symbols.

I have a question—a dilemma—that I’m not sure what to do with. I want to write poetry, and I want to share that poetry with the interwebs. But what is the line between writing poetry for myself and writing poetry for the excitement of the share? I want to write for myself, and I want my emotions to be real and true, but can they be when I feel pressured to post something, anything, just have some words on this page that is some reflection of myself?

When I write for the interwebs and not myself, are my words actually my own?

When I edit my words for the interwebs, are my thoughts shifted and altered in the process?


He Loves Me, He….

Haven’t posted in a while, but then again, haven’t been sane in a while too.

And yes, that does make me sound like an immature, crazy teenager, but actually, right now, I feel like the most sane and mature I’ve ever been.

Let me backtrack for you.

Today, I told him that I had feelings for him—feelings that were more than the feelings of friendship. And today was also the day I found out that even though a person can have the most intense feelings imaginable for someone, these feelings do not have to be reciprocated. Yes, today I found out that he does not and never has felt  the same way about me.

And though he told me sweetly and clearly that he only saw us as friends, I still felt like my heart was melting—dripping down and cascading into the crevices of the dirty sidewalk until I could no longer find it.

It hurt, I’m not going to lie. It still does whenever I think of him or people talk about him. But there’s a silver lining to every cloud, as I’ve found out through this experience.

First, I have discovered that getting your heart broken does not mean the earth comes to a standstill. I know, this is radical information coming your way, but it was somewhat comforting knowing that I didn’t die after getting my heart broken, that my world didn’t crumble and that I was physically okay. Second, I realized that my life does not have to revolve around a boy. Again, shocking news for everyone out there, but today was the first day in a long time that I didn’t walk back to my college dorm thinking “I really need to see him. Please let me just see him once.” It was actually pretty liberating.

But the biggest silver lining is that, after this, I feel as if I can do anything. I feel grown-up in a way that I’ve never felt before, in that I conquered my fears of telling him. I feel as if I know myself more fully now, like I’ve just met a different side of myself, a confident, stable, brave self, that I didn’t know I possessed.

I am proud of myself for telling him. I am proud of myself for staying strong after hearing the very news that I was dreading. And I am also incredibly thankful for my friends here at college who supported me and made me feel as if I wasn’t crazy, but courageous.

Hopefully, I’ll come back from Spring Break and not want to huddle up in a ball and lock myself in my room every time I see him (and I will be seeing him a lot since we live on the same hall). I think that’s a doable goal to have. And I think I might be able to stay friends with him, and maybe now I’ll be able to meet a guy who does want to pursue a romantic relationship with me. Who knows. All I know now is that everything happens for a reason and maybe, just maybe, this will all work out for the best.

I’d like to end my mini-ramble by asking everyone to follow in the footsteps of Gloria Steinem and, tomorrow, do one outrageous act and everyday rebellion. I suppose this was my outrageous, rebellious act—what will yours be?

Sooner-than-later Proclamations

As you may know from my Firsts and Lasts posts, I am quite possibly head-over-heels in love with one of the guys on my hall. We’re close, but I’m fairly certain that he has no idea about how I feel. So, after three months of anguish, heart-wrenching emotional roller coasters and just some god awful days, I’m going to end this cycle of misery and flat out tell him. Tomorrow. At 2.

I’m just a little scared.

Which is why I decided to write out what I wanted to say so that I would at least have an idea and not completely freak out when it comes time to tell him. Tomorrow. At 2. And what better way to write out my proclamation of love than on my blog, so that the whole internet can read it?

That’s right, there are a million other ways. Yet, I think it’s only fair, considering how little I’ve been posting recently. So… here goes.

Hey B—, could we talk? I have something important to tell you, and I just need to get it off my chest.

He says yes, or at least, I hope he will.

Before I start though, I want you to promise one thing—to the best of your ability you will not treat me any differently after hearing what I have to say, and we will still stay friends. I get that it might be awkward for a little bit, but honestly, my friendship with you matters way more than anything else.

I can just see his eyes widen and his smile drop a little bit at this. What a cutie pie. But he’ll say yes and encourage me to keep talking in that adorable accent of his.

Okay. Here goes. I think that I’ve started to develop feelings for you.

He’ll try to interrupt with some exclamation: “What?” “Oh.” “Really?” “Shit.” “Huh.” (take your pick. Though most likely, he’ll say something in a foreign language). But I’ll steam-roller through to make my next point.

Honestly, I know that you don’t feel the same way. I know that you don’t reciprocate my feelings, and that’s totally fine with me. I just really need to get this off my chest because it’s sort of been driving me crazy for a while, and I feel like the only way I can stop feeling like this is by telling you. I don’t expect anything from you; I just want you to know how I feel. I really hope that our friendship doesn’t change because of this, but if you need some time away from me, I totally understand that.

At this point, I’m not sure what he’ll say. Maybe he’ll be shocked into silence, or he might try to say something comforting, but really it will make me feel worse. Maybe he’ll ask me how I actually feel, when I knew that I felt this way? But I do know for certain that he will tell me that he doesn’t feel the same way about me, but that I’m a great girl; I’m funny, lovable, and cute, but he just doesn’t feel the same way. It might take him a while to say this, but he is a gentleman, and I know (or at least I hope) that he’ll understand that this is taking a lot of courage on my part to tell him this, and that I will not be able to deal with a flat out “no.”

But then again, so what if he just tells me “no,” and we end our walk in an awkward silence? I’ll just have one more story to tell my friends back home, and one less thing to regret later on in my life. As long as we can stay friends, I think that I’ll be fine.

So that’s my sooner rather than later proclamation of love. Wish me luck. I’m going to need it.

Firsts and Lasts

First, I want to apologize for not posting anything at all during my first semester as a college freshmen. It was such a whirlwind of activities, classes and people that I barely had time to free read, let alone write any poetry. But now that first semester, I’m going to try second semester a little differently, with more “me” time, and less “IT’S THE START OF COLLEGE” freak out time. This involves spending time writing poetry, reading more and spending more time with people, rather than living my life based on test schedules and grades, which will hopefully mean more posts on this site. Before this, however, I feel it necessary to fill you all in on the many firsts of my first semester of college:

  1.  First time apart from my family for longer than two weeks.
  2. First time I met a celebrity, and that too, Gloria Steinem of all people. Let me tell you, she’s amazing. After meeting her, I find myself saying “WWGD” when I’m faced with a problem that seems impossible. She’s my new idol.
  3. First time I stayed up later than 4am because of homework
  4. First time I had honest talks about sexuality, women issues and gender dynamics with people of my own age group.
  5. First time I had: beer, tequila, vodka, bourbon, rum and whiskey (I feel like I have to point out that the consumption of the alcohol was spread out over the course of five months. I did not have all 6 beverages in one night. I’m not crazy). Turns out I’m not a fan of beer, but I am a big fan of hard liquor, a fact that my mother isn’t pleased with.
  6. First time I became really good friends with people of the other gender
  7. First time I kissed a boy
  8. First (and last) time I kissed a girl
  9. First time I went to a party that didn’t involve sleepovers, cooking or watching movies
  10. First time I felt like I completely fit in with a group of people and that I could finally be myself, that I wasn’t just a peripheral member of the friend group.
  11. First time (and this one’s a whopper) I fell in love. Though I’m still not sure if what I feel is love or not; I just know that I miss him so much all of the time, and that whenever I’m feeling down, all I have to do is think about him, and I instantaneously feel better. But I’ll post something on that topic another day, because I could fill a thousand books about how I feel about him, and why he is the sweetest, cutest, best person in the whole entire world.

And here are some lasts:

  1. Last time I ever have to take another math class again
  2. Last time I decide to drink when I feel emotionally down (that was a bad mistake on my part, and it resulted in one of the worst nights of my life)
  3. Last time I care what people think about me or say, because I know that I have so many people who love me just the way I am.
  4. Last time I spend Thanksgiving without my family. I visited my friend’s family, and even though she was very sweet, Thanksgiving isn’t the same without my family’s traditions and my family members themselves
  5. Aaaand… last time I forget about this blog for six months at a time. I am certainly going to try posting at least weekly in college. The only reason why it’s so hard, other than the school and social reasons, is that I want this blog to remain anonymous, which is hard to do when people are walking through my hall as well as in and out of my room 24/7. For instance, I definitely would not be able to talk about the boy I mentioned in 12) if I knew my hall mates were going to read this.

Happy holidays everyone! I look forward to catching up with all of you and getting back to this little section of the internet that I can call my own.

If I say sorry, will that make it alright?

I haven’t posted here in a month. More than a month, more like.

I’m surprised all of you haven’t unfollowed me yet.

First off, I would like to say that I am incredibly sorry for not posting for such a long time, and I really have no excuse that could explain this other than the fact that I am simply a lazy teenager.

As a sort of apology gesture, I found a poem that I think you will enjoy by Louise Bogan:

I do not know where either of us can turn
Just at first, waking from the sleep of each other.
I do not know how we can bear
The river struck by the gold plummet of the moon,
Or many trees shaken together in the darkness.
We shall wish not to be alone
And that love were not dispersed and set free—
Though you defeat me,
And I be heavy upon you.
But like earth heaped over the heart
Is love grown perfect.
Like a shell over the beat of life
Is love perfect to the last.
So let it be the same
Whether we turn to the dark or to the kiss of another;
Let us know this for leavetaking,
That I may not be heavy upon you,
That you may blind me no more.

I hope you enjoyed that poem, and I hope to post many more in the future, though this may change when I get swept up in all things college. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to blog in college, and it’s going to be a hard thing to give up. That’s because if I do choose to leave this blog, I know that I will be leaving a group of people who have supported me in my literary endeavors, who engrossed me with their own posts, and who, most importantly, created such a wonderful environment that enabled me to grow as a writer, reader and person. All of you are so amazing, and I hope that you continue blogging so that, in a few months, if I feel my fingers itching to type another post, I can log on and be swept back up into the blogosphere.

Thank you so much, and goodbye to all.

(At least for now.)

The Tattooed English Nerd

I finally got my tattoo!

I got it on Friday (coincidentally Friday the 13th), accompanied by my mother and my best friend, and it was actually a pretty nice experience. Granted, the first half hour was not fun, when I realized that the design I had picked out months in advance was going to take over half of my calf and that the tattoo artist couldn’t make it smaller because then the proportions would be wrong.

Fortunately I found another design that I like just as much, and the tattoo artist was very nice about it.

I definitely overestimated how much a tattoo would hurt. I always envisioned the tattoo artist using needles and puncturing my skin, but honestly, it did not hurt that much at all. It was kind of like someone scratching you, sometimes more violently, but never so bad that I screamed out or started crying. And my best friend was with me the whole time (my mother was too queasy to watch) distracting me by talking about Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings. It worked. And it also caused my tattoo artist to call us dorks a few times as he listened to his heavy metal with a tattoo gun in his hands. We didn’t care.

The only problem with my tattoo is that, from a certain angle, it can look like a menorah. I guess that just means I have to marry a Jewish guy now.

Overall though, I’m pretty happy. I had a minor stress ball moment at night, during that time when your mind is half asleep and half thinking, when I thought “would it still be alright to have a tattoo when I’m 40 or 50? What will people say?” And then, as if emerging from the murky waters, I suddenly woke up and thought “Who the hell cares?” I felt so clear, so present at the moment, and I knew then that all of the worries I have about my tattoo don’t matter. I like my tattoo, and now, it’s a part of me.

So if people want to think that I’m a biker chick because I have a tattoo, let them. I know that I am a nice, respectable, English nerd, the kind who doesn’t party, drink or do anything that society believes teenagers do. And I have a tattoo. I am a tattooed English nerd, and I love the way I am.

It only took me a tattoo to come to this realization.


Back Home!

It was a great 10 days, but boy am I glad to be back home. For one thing, cruise food stops being fabulous after the second day when the surprise of what they offer disappears. And another thing is that my family is just not a cruise family.

We enjoy traveling and seeing the world, but we’re not really people to take part in the cruise activities, and it’s just not fun to only stay in places like Corfu, Greece

or Dubrovnik, Croatia


for only four hours, max. Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded staying two weeks in each of the cities we visited (and I wouldn’t mind living in Corfu, Greece for the rest of my life), but with the cruise, it’s not possible to do that.

Besides that though, my family and I had an excellent time, and I’m looking forward to the next family vacation (my Dad’s pushing for Singapore in the winter and I have no complaints about that).

But even though I just got back from a fabulous trip, it’s not like I have nothing more to look forward to. For example, tomorrow I am doing something incredibly exciting but also something that every parent dreads and has nightmares about.

Yes, I am getting a tattoo.

I set up my appointment, talked to the tattoo artist, and I’m going to head over there with my mother and my best friend at 6pm tomorrow. I’m just a leetle bit scared so I’m glad that I’ll have some people with me. And the great thing is is that my parents are completely on board! Okay, maybe “completely on board” is going a little too far. Here’s their view on me getting a tattoo:

“We know you’re going off to college and that you’ll be doing things that we have no control over and possibly no idea of. So if you’re going to get a tattoo, we’d rather you got one with our knowledge so we can come with you and make sure everything is alright.”

I have the coolest parents in the world. They were also alright with me skydiving and studying English in college instead of engineering or medicine, which really shatters the perception of Indian parents, doesn’t it?

Hope you guys all had a great 2 weeks, and I can’t wait to get back to blogging 🙂