This is going to be a very random one, because the day I had was pretty random too.
I wish neatness wasn’t a prerequisite for the accounts paper I wrote today. It’s really not my fault that I kept changing my mind about how I wanted to treat the depreciation, or if I wanted to capitalize life membership fees. It’s also not my fault that I kept interchanging October and July and that matters because we need to find depreciation accordingly for 6 or 9 months. It really isn’t. Of course it’s another thing that yesterday was spent in researching books at Landmark, bitching with cousins and debating about whether or not we had an exam due to the riots. And not studying. Also it wasn’t exactly very nice, when I kept remembering lines from my book, and ideas to make them better during my paper, not only because it made me copy all the wrong amounts in the wrong places but also because I couldn’t note down these suggestions anywhere. And now they’re gone.
My horoscope was unusually right today. Surprisingly enough, both the papers predicted different stuff, and both the horoscopes came true.
“There may be a minor mishap, resulting in an arm or leg injury. It’s the right time to execute your ambitious plans. You may have to be strict with your subordinates at work.”
I fell down and twisted my ankle. I also succeeded in cutting my leg with my own toe nail. The levels of my intelligence surprise me every day. In spite of knowing that this might happen, I still let it happen. Maybe it’s because they generally write crap, so on the one day they decide to actually predict my future, I really don’t pay attention. I know it’s just the right time for the execution, but I’m not finished yet, so my ambitious plans will have to wait for a little bit more. And I don’t have subordinates, so I cant be strict with them.
“Every time you think you’re finished with an assignment or task, it will turn out that there is one last detail that needs attention. It’ll be frustrating, but it won’t last. Remember: one step at a time. If you try to do everything at once you will certainly fail.try to keep your vision focused on what you are trying to achieve. Remember that criticism can be helpful.”
The last detail is so true of my book, because every time I think that I have 5 perfect pages, there is always an XX somewhere because I still have to fill in a name, or a date, or an age and even at one place a colour. I cannot even choose a colour nowadyas without thinking it through. Also I do realize that I cannot study for accounts, and write my book at the same time. Which is why I chose to write my book instead because I’m focusing on finishing it. Criticism was indeed helpful, when my mother pointed out that it was impossible for teenagers to be so efficient in life, so I might as well be a little realistic and make them 23 or even better 25. Clearly she doesn’t realize how efficient I am. Or maybe they're lying to me and I'm actually 20 years old, which would explain all the not wanting to grow up sadness.
Since I’m in such a writing mood these days, I often think that I should just chuck my MBA plans, and stick to writing all my life. Then I remember how moody I am, and I won’t exactly be allowed to write about whatever I want to, considering how half the time I don’t know what I’m writing about. Then I also remember the internship, and how I longed to do the advertising.
There is this song that is stuck in my head. Considering how its about cocaine, living fast, dying young, divorcing models, forgetting love and lots of other things that i wont talk about, i dont know why i like it so much. Maybe i was 'fated' to be stuck with it. It refuses to budge even an inch; it refuses to leave my mind. I think it’s just as stubborn as me. So we’re involved in this battle, neither of us can win. My parents do not understand why I need to listen to so much of music, but quite often music is my inspiration to write. That and nature of course. There was a spectacular rainfall two days ago. Yes, spectacular is my new favourite word which means ur gonna have to read it a lot. Maybe that feeling of being in awe of nature, of feeling so insignificant, so impossibly tiny in front of the beauty that surrounds us makes me write.
The sun peeps at me from behind a curtain of clouds only to hide again. The first drops of rain fall asking me to let go of my fears. The sky is overcast and joyful. The stormy winds are spreading dust over everything, concealing all that there is. Much like man and his cloak of pretences. The roar of the wind engulfs us all, demanding our complete attention. And the quiet rainfall only reminds us of the serenity of life whose absence continues to plague us.
The smell of the first few drops of rain mingling with the earth’s mud takes control of my mind. I can’t seem to concentrate on everything. It’s the smell of the bacteria, Actinomycetes, that grows in the soil that produces spores when it rains, which my biology teacher told me in the 10th, and it seems to have this peculiar way of controlling my mind. I really cannot think. I just sit in one place, and continue to smile. Which isn’t such a bad thing after all. Because after all that smiling, I do write a lot.
It’s a totally different thing though that when I look back on all that I’ve written today, I find most of it crap, and nothing of substance and nothing that’s good enough for my book, save for a few sentences that no one would probably notice anyway. Okay fine, nothing except for a few fab sentences that I’m in love with and that I know by heart even though they aren’t that amazing.
My book feels like my baby, not that I would know what having a baby feels like but. So I hate the fact that I’m going around calling it ‘The unnamed corporate story’ which is what it’s saved as on my laptop. I actually went to the extent of having a discussion as to whether people would buy a book called ‘The unnamed corporate story’ and then I went ahead to chop myself by saying that I certainly wouldn’t buy such a book, because if I had the creativity to write a book, that got published, I would have the creativity to name it something better than ‘The unnamed corporate story’ Because honestly would you go around calling your kid, ‘The unnamed brown eyed girl’ just because you couldn’t think of a spectacular name for her?
Considering how I’m not really writing anything that’s worth reading, I’m going to go now. Where, you may ask. But of course to ‘The unnamed corporate story’ and its countless XXs.