How I invited Edward Cullen into my bed.

It was the whispers that lead me to him, the hushed sighs that told me who he was and the prominent blushes on the cheeks of the girls that he had captivated that intrigued me to know him more. And so yet again, I made myself familiar with a Vampire.

Those paled skinned immortal drinkers are always such a dream, followed only closely by lunar shapeshifters whose only vocabulary seem to mostly include the word, "Mine." (Reminds you a seabird from a popular movie probably?) And so, being a fan of Dracula, I took up on reading the Twilight series, which I must say introduced me to yet another fandom. I have a very passive take on Twilight, I loved the book when I read them at the age of 16, and wished with my whole being that I would find my own Edward Cullen and I was fascinated by the idea of the Volturi and that these vegetarian bloodsuckers that sparkled in the sunlight. Hey! You have to admit, it was original. I hated the movies, and even Robert Pattinson who I had fallen in love with for his role as Cedric Diggory could not save it. The graphic novels on the other hand were beautiful and being a comic book lover, I loved them the most.

Any twihard or Vampire fic lover in general would have woken up at night with a nagging sensation and a wild beat of their heart and looked around their dark room for a silhouette of a man with dark eyes watching them from the shadows. (Tell me you have done this before!) Also, they would have woken up and looked into the mirror, not for signs of a pimple, no no no, but for two tiny bite marks at the nape of their neck.  Have you ever looked at someone too pale, or with sharp canines and held your breath and watched them to know if they might be him, your immortal soulmate. Well, I know people who have.

With the heated debate over Team Edward or Team Jacob, or with the undeniable fact that where there are Vampires, there will be Werewolves, what makes this type of fiction so attractive to the young adult?

Probably the idea of the unknown and forbidden, the fear of death and the dream of immortality, or just that all Vampire seem to be sexy supermodels now. But like a close friend of mine would say, "How could you fall in love with a Vampire? They aren't even the same species!" and so it would seem, we just love falling in love with the unobtainable.

The ways of introduction to the world of Vampire are various, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, The Vampire Diaries, etc. through T.V, Anne Rice, Darren Shaw and Stephenie Meyer (yes, for a majority of this age) through books, and many would say that the Underworld series played a great role in this influence. Dracula though, is undoubtedly the ruler of Vampire fiction and will stay that way for a long time to come.

Book series like The House of Night series and Vampire Academy are immensely popular in Y.A fiction right now, and with the launch of the Nocturne branch in Mills & Boon, and Vampire and Werewolf being genres of their own, it's hard not to get caught up in the craze.

These creatures of myths and folklore used to be something that we feared and made your skin crawl. But now, portrayed as something to be desired, you would just rather go out with one. One thing for sure, fiction like this is here to stay, regardless of the hate and amusement.

What about you? A stake through the heart or a pale-skinned boyfriend, what would you like?

A word of advice though, Zombies, that's what everyone wants now.

The matter of acceptance is a grave one indeed.

It doesn't matter what you are or who you may be; you may be a potato for all you know and all you want is acceptance from the opposite sex. Your girlfriends might remark on your features, saying how pretty your eyes are, how soft your skin is, how the very worst part of you (or what you might feel is the worst) is something that makes you unique above the rest. Remember the thick unibrow you had your whole life? Well shave half of it off, shape it and voila! Those are the most beautifully shaped eyebrows ever.

Beauty is acquired. Rarely is someone just born beautiful. Not to say that people are born ugly, but you still need to do certain things to look desirable. For a girl, rid yourself of most of the hair, straighten things out, look like all the time you spent at the palour is something that is gifted to you by sleep every passing day and you would be something that society would term something of great beauty. I would not know if it was easier for men, for them, its about the rugged yet clean look where even after sweating it out at work, they need to look like the sexiest beasts on the planet.
But what is this all for? Is it hardly ever for you? Even though you might be self sufficient as hell, you don't need another to help you through life, in the end, we are raised with story tales. With stories of Knights in Shining Armor, of Prince Charmings, of men who will protect and accept us for who we are. Someone for whom we don't need to shave our legs that long winter break, someone for whom we can sit in our baggiest Cheetos stained clothes, our hair in a tangle and who would look at us each time with fondness and simply say, "I adore you."
You might be a feminist, you might be alone and happy about it, but in the end, that's all you want, that's all you need, someone to accept you as you accept them.
You don't need rainbows and butterflies, chocolate and kisses (though they would be generously accepted), you just need that one person who would say, "Be yourself! The world may hate you for it, judge you for it, but I will only love you for it."
As cheesy as it might sound, and this is cheesier than the cheesiest cheese burst pizza, you just want someone to say all your I-Love-Yous to, someone to say, I miss you, someone you could coin the holiday card greeting of 'Wish You Were Here' to.
You want to belong to someone, you want to fit in their arms, smile for all their smiles, be a shoulder for all their sorrow and a hand to hold as they walk their path of life. You don't want to be alone because the world is filled with so many lonely people who don't want to be alone together. You see your parents, the first couple that you encountered together. For all their bickering and their disagreements, you see the gentle looks they give each other as the remember the hurdles they overcame in their chapter of life, you see the proud looks of joy as they look at you. They might have made mistakes in their lives but one thing that they did do was create new life, they gave you a life, the one that you have now is all because of them. It might be shitty at times and you might wish you did not exist but you still got a chance at something wonderful and that's a lot more than a million stars would have.
Everything that you want, comes from the feelings you had growing up, the warmth of a body that surrounds you, that unconditional love, that joy that fills you up at the slightest hint of admiration, those shy sly blushes at a word of a compliment. Everything. What we really need is just approval. We just need to feel accepted, just a sign that we can stop trying so hard to fit in and just be the person we want to be. All in all we just want to be allowed to be who we are.

K - It's so not okay!

I still remember the first time I came across this dreadful reply. It was one pleasant day a few years earlier when I was chatting with an online friend. Innocent and a gullible newbie to the ways of cyber chatting, I was anxious to understand it all.

The conversation was taking a boring turn and I had said something (I don't remember what) to which I got a reply in the form of a lonesome letter. The letter 'k'.

Puzzled by what it could have meant, I stressed over the various meanings and full forms it could hold. My initial thought being that it could be okay, but that seemed too far fetched to be true and so I proceeded to asking my friend what 'k' meant. His prompt reply was, “It's 'okay'.”

Okay -> O.K ->  K

Here we see the linear process of okay. A word written in three different manners, the irritability levels increases from left to right.

Now users of the K would be puzzled as to the strong opinions of the haters of the K. Why do we hate it? It's just a letter isn't it? A quick response which only makes typing easier. What's so irritating about it?

There are various types of ways K can be said and expressed. These include;

The K with a emoticon:

K :) or K :P

This is sweet and light hearted and shows that the person has taken the effort to care about you. Putting the small emoticon next to the K shows the way the K is meant to be said and in what emotion. It makes the receiver of the K feel good.

The expressive K:

K! or K?!

This K is tolerant too. With an exclamation it shows that the replier acknowledges something, with a question mark, it asks the receiver if it's okay. With both an exclamation and a question mark, it tries to make the receiver understand that the sender is confused or that he's asking if it's okay or not okay.

The dotted K:

K.....

This is when the irritability levels really start to rise. If the K by it's own wasn't enough, you have the dots that make the receiver feel like the sender is bored or disinterested and isn't really bothered about them anymore.

The small K:

k... or k :D or k!

The small K works in a variety of ways, depending on how it ends and how it is used. If it is used in between a message it doesn't matter much. But if the message starts with a small k then it shows how the sender was too lazy to even turn it into a capital.

The single K:

K

This is the most notorious of all the Ks. The single K!
It's the most annoying thing an individual can do!
When you receive a single K. Most people just stare at it... Waiting.. Waiting for something more. Something to fill all that emptiness.
But no, it's just a K, a single letter staring back at you as you wait.
The insensitivity of the K has nothing to compare to. A single K makes you feel unworthy, unworthy of getting anything more. Like the only time a person has for you is to send a K, just to satisfy you and say that they DID send SOMETHING.

“You are not worthy of my time or effort,” that's what a single K denotes.

My best friend and I absolutely despise K with all our hearts. For us, K is only sent to piss off people, to indirectly tell them that we are pissed with their crap and they aren't worthy of our attention anymore. It works extremely well with people who know our hatred for K well but with others it isn't much of an abnormality. But I have to say, it gives me a great deal of satisfaction to send someone who I am particularity angry, irritated or annoyed with, a K. It has become a means of ending a discussion and has worked many a time as a perfect example of Reverse Psychology. I found that when I send someone a K, 4 outta 5 times they would reply with an apology.

And so K has its benefits too!

But there are other things that are as annoying as K. These include:

1. Dots

    The extra extra dots thats follow a fullstop in a sentence.
    Eg: Hi ya.....how r u doing....?

2. The short-forming of short words

    Like the title says, making short words shorter.
    Eg: K for okay and recently, O for or / of, sill for silly 

3. Completely changing the spelling of a word
   
    Some words are changed to appear cooler, but they could not be more uncool!
    Eg: ma for my (ma birthday iz cominz soon), kewl for cool
  
4. The fondness for Z

     Using way too many Zs in a word.
      Eg: I lizzzzzz it.... , Itzzz o kewl!


(Like seriously? Have you ever walked on the street and heard a person talk like they're a snooze alarm?)

5. The multiplicity of a letter (s)
    When only one letter is needed but you put a lot more for good measure.
     Eg: Hiiiiiiii.... Wazzzzup? Or Omgggggggggg! Thatsss soooo coooolllll......


The above few are some examples of the type of messaging we find today. There are other things that are more annoying but that's for another blog, another day.

So know people of the world! If you type like anything mentioned as 'irritating' in this blog, know that not only I but others with me are cursing you as you type and saying with absolutism- K IS SO NOT OKAY!

SON OF A B*TCH- Why some dogs deserve that title.

A couple of weeks back I was 'dog-siting' for an ex-teacher of mine. Her father had died that day and since she could not pass on her dog to anyone else, she turned to my mother for help. My mother being the martyr that she was, readily accepted and helped my teacher get through her painful ordeal.

She went to Ms.G's place, helped calm her nerves, took an auto with dog and woman and brought them back to my house all before I had even had breakfast! And so there I was, in my jammies, still hazy from sleep and I found my mother at the door, with my ex-teacher, her niece and a hormonal dog.


It took me awhile to register the scene before me. And as I stared at Zorro (yup that really was his name), his bloodshot eyes stared back at me. (I should mention here that he's a Golden Retriever and they aren't all as fun as you might think)

Ms.G gave me quick instructions to handle her dog.

“We usually feed him twice a day.”

“He likes bread and milk.”

“He loves fish.”

“Zorro is very naughty.”

“He jumps a lot.”

“We usually take him for a walk in the evening.”


After a million more pieces of advice, before she left she turned to me and said matter-of-factly, “If he's troubling you too much, just drug him.”

Horrified at the very thought of it, I let out a nervous laugh until I understood that she was serious.

A little uneasy, I waved a quick goodbye, promising to look after Zorro as a token of my condolences. After Ms. G and her niece left (taking my mother with them) I was left with a very confused dog on my roof. Stressed as I was with the sudden turn of events I decided it would be best to feed the dog first.

Besides his barking was starting to drive me nuts.

Don't get me wrong, I have had a dog before but he died four years back and the closest contact I've come with a dog since then would be avoiding the ones on the streets.

So there I was, with a plate of bread in one hand and a bowl of water in the other. I go on to the roof and stand behind the dog who was looking the other way. I swear my life on this, that dog had to be deaf! It didn't hear me open the gate, nor call his name, nor did he hear me walking towards him or even when I was practically on top of him. (So much for being a guard dog)

Finally I think he might have noticed my shadow or felt a presence behind him and he turned back to look at me. Now like I mentioned before, Zorro had these bloodshot eyes that really creeped me out, and even though externally he looked like a cute Golden Retriever, his eyes spoke otherwise. Like they say, eyes are the mirrors to the soul and his looked like they reflected the pits of hell. That should have been my first indication of the hell I was about to go through later that day.

Back to feeding him- I placed the bowl of water in front of him, encouraging him to take a sip. He looked at me, looked at me hard, like he expected me to add some whiskey to it. Or better still some red wine (to match his eyes). I then placed a couple of slices of bread at his paws, hoping, no no praying that he would at least give that a go. He didn't even sniff at it! Just turned around and sat with his back to me and... This is the most painful thing to say... I was ignored by a dog!!

That's when I remembered his master telling me that he loved beef and fish. SO HE'S TOO GOOD FOR BREAD!!

Pissed off that I wasted so much white bread on a useless dog I went back inside, but not before stopping at the door and yelling at him, “YOU'RE DEAF!” and when he didn't turn to the sound of my voice, I went inside satisfied, with a smug look on my face.

But not for long, Zorro started to bark and how he barked! He started a mini opera on our street. First he started to howl, probably to tell the other dogs how he was kidnapped and trapped in a tower by an evil dragon that only gave him bread and water and then the other dogs responded, pitying him. And soon all the dogs in a 500 mts radius started howling together, while I waited worriedly for an annoyed neighbor to come and demand that I silence the dog. Maybe I should have taken up Ms. G's suggestion of those drugs. Not for the dog, for me.

Finally after a few hours my mother returned- exhausted and sleepy. While she readied herself for a bath, I quickly filled her up on the details of how the dog was doing. After her quick wash, she came up with me to the roof to check up on Zorro. (For those of you confused about the going up to the roof, I should let you know I live in a three floor apartment and my house consists of the second and third floors, half of the third floor being the roof)

When my mom saw Zorro she started cooing like a mother bird, pouring out loving words which now!!!! Zorro could hear. And then she took two slices of bread and gave it to Zorro. I opened my mouth to tell her that Zorro wouldn't eat it and stopped short when I saw him eagerly gobble it up. I glared at the damn dog and he smirked at me. SMIRKED!

“Let's take him out for a walk,” my mom says.

“Let's wait for bro first. It'll be easier if he's around,” I say.

“Hmmm... he's gone out to play. So we'll take Zorro out for a walk now.”

Reluctantly I agreed to it, but I was secretly happy inside at the prospect of taking a dog out for a walk. Quickly I changed into a pair of jeans and a shirt, not really looking for comfort but more for looking great talking a dog for a walk. Bad idea. Very bad idea.

Finally when my mom was ready too, we stood at the terrace door, the honor of holding Zorro's lease bestowed on me. Looking at the six flights of stairs in front of me, I shivered slightly.

“Come on Zorro,” I tell him, nudging him to go. Zorro gave me a bored look and yawned. After trying unsuccessfully to shift him, I turned to my mother and started saying, “Ma! What do I-” Zorro leapt down the staircase almost ripping my arm out of its socket.

“SLOW DOWN! SLOW DOWN!” I screamed.

“WOOF WOOF!”

I was dragged down the six flights of stairs that I dreaded so much, the dog pulling me forward like a steamroller. Luckily we didn't meet anyone else on the stairs; I dread to think of what would have happened then.

At last Zorro was stopped by the building gate, barking, probably what meant “Free! I'm frrrreeeee!!” and then he proceed to try to jump over the gate.

My mother joined me shortly, laughing at my little trip down. I scowled at her darkly. It's when we went onto the street was when I realized what my perfect role, if I ever wished to act, would be. THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE DAME !

To avoid losing control of Zorro I had to keep a hold of his leash near his neck and this kept me in a permanently hunched position. I screamed myself sore, screaming, “Zorro no! NO!”

And that dog just kept dragging me about. Here, there, everywhere! My street became his own personal toilet. Never did he have to shit more than he had to do that day. Each pole, ditch, tree and grassy area belonged to him. It was his right to give a piece of himself to it.

He would drag me to pole and shit, looking at me the whole time, either to say, “Ha-ha you look like this!” or “Isn't it beautiful. A lovely brown!” Ya to match my eyes. Then he would drag me to yet another pole and shit there and turn back to look at me and say, “Ah! Don't you think I did a better job with this one?” Yes. Yes I did.

The only thing worse than the poles were the ditches. Yes you heard me- D.I.T.C.H.E.S
It was like Zorro wanted to play a different type of hopscotch with me. He would hope into a ditch and when I fell in, he would jump out.

The next thing he did was taken out of an old Bollywood movie. You know, the running around the trees with your lover. Only this one involved him running around a pole while I ran after him. I stopped chasing him and stood still, smiling to myself smugly thinking that now he couldn't run around  anymore. But that S.O.B just ran around me, tying me to the pole!

When I finally set myself free, that's when the real drama started. A boy, maybe a couple years older than me, came walking down the street. With two female Golden Retrievers. Now isn't that just lovely?

It was love at first sight.

Zorro turning his head after laughing at me, spots the fair beauties coming towards him. His eyes lock with the fairer of the two. They look at each other and sparks fly, explosives light and they run in slow motion, barking in pure happiness, the wind blowing softly, a romantic tune and then they are stopped short, choking as they reach the end of their lease.

The two dogs mourned sadly at each other, trying to get away from the humans that had a hold on them. A crowd had started to form since the dogs were blocking the narrow road and they watched the love story play out in front of them. The lad who held the two female dogs was scrawny as hell and yet he had unimaginable strength! The other female who wasn't the least bit interested in Zorro, stood to the side and yawned like she was telling the other dog, “You can have him if you like. I can get better.”

The great tragic of Zorro and the other female was starting to piss me off as it reminded me of my own pathetic excuse of a love life. It's annoying and harsh that two dogs can find true love at once when here I was without a boyfriend and anything that even resembled love in my life!!


Finally the boy was able to pull the dog away and as they went their way Zorro turned to look at me accusingly.

“Tough luck old boy,” I told him with a grin.

And to punish me, he went and jumped into a ditch.

Well the rest of the story is hardly worth writing about, Ms. G came home later that evening and took away Zorro and I was finally able to rest into a comfy chair, my back showing signs of being broken, my shoes muddy, the smell of crap in my nose and my shoulders relaxed in a feeling of good riddance!

The Blog Craze

Why do people write blogs? Seriously why?

Why am I writing a blog you ask? That's simple love, coz everyone is!!

I mean there isn't anything fantastic about my reason to write one. I got an account on Blogger over a year back and completely forgot about it until I noticed that one of my friends had started writing one. So I head over to his page and find that he started writing one because one of his friends had been writing one! 
( Wow I wrote 'one' six times in that paragraph!)

So there I was, switching between the two blogs, finding out the inner secrets of their minds- what they see when they look, what they think when they think. (Crazy I know!)

And so I thought to myself, "Hey! You have an empty blog waiting for you, a new keyboard waiting to be broken into... Why don't you write a blog too!"

And that's when the idea struck me my dear readers..
I can write too!

(Actually the main reason for my starting a blog was coz I was jealous that my friends have ones of their own. )

Note
Did you notice my last three sentences started with an A?
Well of course you did! Coz that what you all are, critics looking for mistakes. *Growls*

You know what I love about typing something? Its how fast my fingers move on the keyboard. It's so fast that sometimes I have to stop to think before I can type and that ruins my flow andallmywordsendupgettingjumbledup!

http://youtu.be/Meepit7SVtY

Its like a contest with me every time. How fast can I type? How much can I type in a minute? I love it!! Sometimes I type for the sake of typing. If I go to a mall, I go to the nearest electronics store and locate the section that holds the laptops and then I start my craze for typing.

I pick my targets well. Big laptops with big keyboards.
I open the word doc and stare at the blank page with love.
And then I.... Think about what I'm going to write. (Haha! You thought I'd say type didn't ya?)
THEN I TYPE! I TYPE I TYPE I TYPEEEEEE!

I start off with something random, my name, what I like and then I look up and see people staring at me so I write about them.

An attendant was pretty pissed off when he came forward to see what I was typing and realized how perfectly I had described his nose.

Ah I've strayed far from the topic at hand! Why do people write blogs?
My reason, if you haven't guessed it yet, is because I love to type. (DUH!)

Others might think of their blog as their personal diaries, ones they can pour their heart and soul into.

The thing about blogs are, once you start one, your outlook on the world changes. Everything suddenly seems important! You could write a blog on the coffee you just had, on the juice you just spilled, how the earth looks after it has rained, why you like something and why you hate it.

You could just look out of the window and think, "Ah the sky! I'll write something about it in my blog." (I'm telling you, that's the truth and nothing but the truth)

But what I want to ask you, dear reader is- Why do you read a blog?

More on this next time!!!

Adiós

Exams- Snooze, you Lose

Examinations, a period where emotions overcome you to such extent that you start to behave rather peculiarly.  (That fly looks tasty)

Examinations, a period where you curse yourself for leaving off your potions for so long. (I don’t know this and this and this….)

Examinations, a period where the slightest of things, annoys the hell outta you. (“STOP BREATHING NOSE! YOU'RE MAKING TOO MUCH NOISE!”)

Examinations, a period where you think your life is over and you start to think of the good times.

(Remember when I used to sleep? Ya that was a lot of fun)

Oh forgotten blog, you might have by now, understood what ails my innocent mind. EXAMS! Oh how the word makes me quiver in fear.

The most important exams of my life is fast approaching and yet here I am, typing away to glory, looking for some solace and peace of mind.


What is it with exams that makes you doubt yourself so, you ask. Well, the mere idea of sitting in a stuffy room with no ventilation and fifty other children while looking at the paper in front of me with my mind as blank as the answer sheet is the reason I doubt myself.

Why, oh why, were exams created?
A teacher must have started them, for no other reason than to play with the minds of his harmless students.

I regret to tell you my dear reader that this entry will not be as humorous as my last. For the exams have made me a notch too serious.

Just week ago, I heard that one of my younger brother's acquaintances had taken his life. (By a rope and a ceiling fan.)

My first thought was:
Oh how sad. How could anyone even think of doing that?

I went on to ask myself the reasons for his committing suicide and got quite a few,

1. The pressure from his parents and teachers.
2. Overworking himself to an extent that he couldn't think straight.
3. Believing the lie that if you don't get a 100% in your exams, life holds nothing for you.
4. Thinking that he was useless, worthless and moreover 'nothing.'

Life is cruel if its purpose is to only do well in your exams.

What is it that drives parents to force their views on their children? What is it that makes them think if we don't come first in class we are a failure?

What lets them do this to us? To break us and makes us to undermine our own precious existence. And finally leaving us with the only option left, to live and bear this torture, or end our lives and finally find some peace.

I regret to say that my second thought, after hearing the way he died was, “How cliché!”

That passing thought made a powerful impact on my mind. I hated myself for the insensitivity of that thought and its reason. That the growing death rates caused by suicide of students makes us think it's natural. That I actually thought it was cliché because so many students have done it before.

WHY? Why does it have to be like this?

It's a Dog-Eat-Dog World and yet we let ourselves be eaten- defeated and lost.

I found out later that the boy attended a popular Tuition center that had an alarming suicide rate of seven students last year. Seven students!! I think it's time that they took a good look at themselves and found the problem and fixed it. Don't they understand they are playing with innocent lives?

When did education become hell? Staying at school for a week to study because you get low grades. No holidays, no fun. The text books become holy. No times for breathers or rest if you want to pass the test.

Is this all that life has to offer for a student?

The coming exams have played a havoc on me. I dream of equations, recite dates when I'm awake and as I study, I have a growing premonition of doom awaiting me. A single line that I don't understand marks failure for me.

My friends' exams have ended and mine have yet to start. I think this just adds to my unhappiness. While they relax and are happy in the post-exam euphoria, here I am, biting my nails with black bags under my eyes.

Don't you ever get the feeling that you just want to curl up in a corner and just forget the world? Yes I'm get that feeling a lot.

But I think the best way to get over any bad time is to imagine the light at the end of a tunnel and so here I am looking forward to the after-party.

I have to say that laying my fears out on a paper gives me a sense of peace. Sometimes you just need to be able to let go of all the fear in you, to tell them to someone or express them in some way. Write, sing, dance, anything that takes the load off of your shoulders.

I wish someone had told the same to that boy. Maybe the only thing he need was an ear willing to listen. Maybe he just needed a shoulder to lean on. And maybe he just needed a hand to lift him from the darkness he had fallen into....

Dear readers, I think I have had my say; the rest is for you to think about. Was what I said right or was I becoming delusional with the exam fever?
Whatever the answer may be, pride yourselves for having read so far in this dreadful blog!

And now I beg your leave once again and hope that you wish me luck for my exams.

ARRIVEDERCI!

*Gets up from the corner and faces the world *




-------------------------------------------------------

Now I lay me down to rest
Pray I pass tomorrow’s test
If I should die before I wake
That’s one less test I’ll have to take

-------------------------------------------------------

Being 18- The perks of being a legal adult.

Ah yes! If you happened to stumble upon this blog of mine, on your way to something much more important.. Please don't let this hold you up. Sadly I do not have anything good to say about my dear dear distressed hand that would convince you to bear with the words written from my soul.

I am but a mere kind-hearted girl, recently turned 18 on the 4th of this very cold month. Oblivious to the ways of this cruel cruel world, I have decided to record my findings of the sights I have seen and those I have yet to lay my legal 'adult' eyes upon, in this notorious blog.

Fear not! I do not always talk like an old fart. Just when I'm bored out of my wits and try to act funny (to which I fail miserably) does this side of me come out.

To those in their 17th year, do not look so happy at the prospect of turning 18 soon. The promises of happiness, glory and pride that await you is but a lie. Apart from the fact, that you have grown a year older, there doesn't seem to be much of a change. Yes there are nagging old crones now that expect much more from you and you are showered with various responsibilities and duties. You can never act, speak or think like a child and you are expected to 'know things', (god knows what those are). You find yourself with a certain air that never existed before. If you are like me- the oldest of your friends; you are at liberty to act like you are wiser than the rest of them (of course this gives the others a right to tag you with the term 'old'. )

Alas, my thoughts have reached a stand-still at this point and I must bid you all adieu.

We shall meet again soon dear reader, please be kind to my words forevermore.