I'm in love.

With Him.

#Lesson for the day: What? It's love.

The hours

It takes exactly 17 minutes and 38 seconds to go from the north of delhi to the west in the metro. I checked. Four times. It takes just a little more than that to go from actually wanting to laugh and snicker to lying comatose on the bed staring up at the fan that never tires, even though the only thing it knows is to go around in circles. It takes an hour longer to finally fall asleep, even though you know you won't like the dreams that are bound to come. It takes two hours more to think about what you've started doing and feel bad about it. And then immediately stop caring because that is what got you into this mess in the first place.

It takes till nightfall for the entire morning to wash away from your mind so that you can cry a little. No reason, it feels right to be letting something go. It takes till midnight for the music to start. Somewhere in my mind, Snow Patrol and Coldplay begin to alternately opening wounds and plastering them with band-aids. It takes the three seconds post midnight to check the chat that just came and feel the lump settling in your throat. It takes nineteen whole hours for reality to come crashing down my head and I let out one little tear, just to finish up the day's quota.

It takes nineteen hours, 30 minutes and some lingering seconds to stop counting the hours, minutes and seconds and finally take off the wrist watch.

It still takes too many hours, minutes and wasted tears for the world to finally stop.

#Lesson for today: When it hurts, laugh about the weather.

She never felt quite as comfortable in the curves of someone else's body. Does anything else matter, she mused as she felt her grin grow wider with each passing second. Secrets tasted much better than propriety, after all.

#Lesson for today: None, given up.

Of everything the rain isn't yet

And I dreamed of a slippery road,
running uphill when I wanted to go down
a small shack on the edge of the cliff
teetering, almost daring gravity to make it fall
where there is a sad looking boy, a stranger
who'll save me from the ranks of those that
forget to believe in love

And then I dreamed of hands that would
throw little raindrops my way
just because they wanted to move
of steam rising from our cups and
the thousand smoldering fires in the
valley that spun itself around us
and I opened my eyes to find that I was
still on my own
only the dream of happiness had grown

(Click to Enlarge)

#Lesson for today: There are at least two for real Comic Book Guy's out there in the world.

Omelette du Fromage

Lemon Girl is proud to report that she successfully pulled off a delicious cheese omelet at the first try.

#Lesson for today: I may not be able to go back to normal omelettes.

There is the perfect template for me in the designer part of blogger. With lemons and stripes. And it makes me so sad that it does not go along with the feel of the blog.

I wish it did. :(

Whom? Whom?

Douglas Adams said it was Mice, who were secretly controlling mankind.

Tom Holt says it is Frogs.

Whom to believe?

#Lesson for today: Mankind is definitely not controlling mankind.

Meme’d

Ten things you wish you could say to people right now:
~ I don’t like you much.
~ I really miss you but have too much pride to say so
~ I wish you didn’t love somebody else
~ Don’t stop believing in yourself, honey
~ You’re going down the wrong way, you’ll be sorry
~ If only we could spend every.waking.moment. together, I’d be happy
~ Come back please, you’ve been missed
~ Somewhere, there is somebody waiting for you. Patience
~ You make my heart burst into twenty thousand gazillion smiles
~ You do realize that I am always right?

Nine things about yourself:
- I like lemons
- and lemonade
- and animals
- and Questionable Content
- and wear mismatched clothes
- and forget where I was supposed to go
- and can’t get enough of books
- and can be found dancing to funny songs
- and having epiphanies by the hour (or week)

Eight ways to win your heart:
` Love my doggie
` Have good language skills. Good enough to be able to correct me
` Text me crazy lyrics at any point of the day
` Daydream with me, about me, for me
` Be interesting. Tell me what you like, everything. Fromquantamphysicstopoopjokes
` Know that it’s fine if I’m acting crazy. Act with me. Don’t tell me I’m crazy though.
` Don’t be gross. That’s my job.
` Read blog and comment liberally.

Seven things that cross your mind a lot:
- Would this have a Wikipedia entry?
- Oooooh, blog post!
- I am a ninja! I will make you my bitch!
- How did I end up like this? I used to be fine.
- But I’m happy ending up like this, I think.
- I want my own tragic kingdom. Or an hour in Narnia.

Six things you wish you never did:
~ Opened my mouth, to start with.
~ Given people the wrong idea.
~ Given advice
~ Dated (yes, I do regret having those particular boyfriend(s))
~ Stopped dancing
~ Maths

Five turn-offs:
- Over confidence.
- Facebook profiles.
- Thinking you’re already an important part of my life.
- Pragmatism.
- “I don’t read books/like animals”. Go die, fucker.

Four turn-ons:
- Books + Spectacles *drooooool*
- Lack of certain common senses.
- That wild, crazy look in the eyes that says I love you.
- The perfect hug.

Three things you want to do before you die:
- Write a book. A good one. A makes-me-filthy-stinking-rich-yet-the-love-of-all-age-groups one.
- Hug a panda.
- Love, properly.

Two smileys that describe you:
- B-)
- :-> (quite the smug bitch, I can be)

One confession:
I am a ninja. I make people my bitch!

#Lesson for today: Memes. Loath them, dislike them, you can’t ignore them.

Hello

I'm finally over with my internship. Woo-Hoo! What lemontastic lessons did I learn there, you ask?

#1. It is acceptable to use the words boobs on the world page of a newspaper but nowhere else.
(Read As: Indian women are not in possession of them; all foreigners are)

#2. All socialist news will include "Brinda Karat has commented".
(Read As: Only acceptable socialist hottie in our country)

#3. The day feels incomplete if the Maoists/Naxals/Kashmiri Militants didn't do anything news-worthy.
(Read As: This is how we sensationalize newspapers)

#4. Shashi Tharoor + Twitter = Newspaper Fodder
(Read As: He's easy to quote, why waste time anywhere else?)

#5. The AP ministry finds serving gur with tea instead of sugar as the only wholly undeniable proof of corruption.
(Read As: Much of the country is unknowingly corrupt)

#6. Sports story editors must inform the photography department of their stories at the earliest. Only photographs with 'interesting' positions will do.
(Read As: Not so sure myself.)

There were many more interesting instances that I cannot share for fear of my boss stumbling on to this link from my work bench. Don't worry though, I'll be putting them up as soon as I can run down to office and delete the browsing history :D

#Lesson for today: If you don't check on your ability to love every now and then, you may just forget how to.

Oh hell come ring this bell

The only true sign that I am not a delusion trapped in someone else's fantasy is that mosquitoes exist. Nobody cares enough for them, not even enough to let them enter the realms of a tragic kingdom.

Somewhere along the edge of your world, there is a feeling waiting to be found. You almost saw it once, but then the swirling dust storms grabbed it and fled. And then you wait, like a Djinn stuck in time at the same spot for years and years to know what it was. Nothing changes they say, you only change what you felt about it. Wonder once, malice now. Still, a touch of excitement lingers somewhere. One that sends you spiraling away till the earth cracks beneath your feet to make you stop.

And then you wake up, you've fallen out of love. No void to remember it by, just a touch of wanting to hang on longer. Just another day, with a mosquito buzzing near your ear.

#Lesson for today: If you stop caring so much, you'll start to love again.

Grumble

I think the neighbours must think I ritually slaughter peasants/have exceptionally amazing sex every now and then, judging by the sounds coming from my room. Loud screams, with sudden bouts of cheering and then some silence.

But as life would have it, neither of those two particularly appealing things is going on. The loud screams are a result of having gained weight in spite of giving up chocolates/chips/junk food/aerated drinks for a while now. The sudden bouts of cheering happen when a previously hated tee fits perfectly. The silence, when I fall asleep from being a depressive-maniac.

In further uninteresting news, I am yet again stuck at an internship. It has sucked away much of my dry wit and longing to be funny. Explains why you are reading the most boring post of this blog ever.

Except the sex part. Everybody likes sex parts.

#Lesson for today: If there is a God up there, he doesn't like lemons much.