Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Early Morning Blues.

Waking up early is, by far, one of the hardest things I've done. I just cant. The ringing alarm, the knocks on the door, the ring-tone in my cell; everything merges with the dream and a less pleasant dream replaces it. A new story starts being told.

I'm sleeping. The alarm in my computer/cell has been ordered to start its ordeal at 6:00 AM. And it just cant wait.

1. I'm dreaming about races of flying dolls and talking motorcycles at a nuclear war. A big one. A Triumph is just about to chop a Barbie's head off when suddenly another Barbie pops into the picture. But instead of rescuing its comrade, it starts singing. It doesnt stop. Somehow, in an era of talking motorcycles and really deadly flying dolls, Lynyrd Skynyrd is still liked. The Triumph stares in wonder as the newcomer continues singing Sweet Home Alabama (alarm-song). The song gets louder by every second. Suddenly, the motorcycles and the dolls are replaced by a big man. A monster. Twenty storeys tall. Someone is still singing the song and the big bad guy is not pleased. Irritated, he starts searching the streets frantically for the mystery source of the song. At the end of the road, he finds a house. He peeps in through one of the windows (He's big. He can easily do this.) and sees a guy with a goatee having a tape-recorder in his hand. The source. Determined, he charges at the guy with a sword.

That's when I wake up.

2. I put off the alarm and sit on my bed trying to remember why I wanted to wake up so early. Its cold. I start shivering. This stage is the worst.

You now remember the reason for waking up so early. So you know its utterly necessary to stay awake and do what made you see sunrise. But then, there's the bed.

I give one look at the bed. Its one mammoth pizza. Too big for even several dehydrated hungry obese men, lost in the Sahara desert for over a month to finish off. And I'm one of them. So I sleep off. Again.

3. But this time, the dreams dont have any of the dolls or motorcycles. Not even the giant. Instead, the thought of not accomplishing the task I had so enthusiastically set the alarm for and so irritatedly woken up for nags the mind. Its not the deep sleep that I wanted. But the superficial-subconscious one haunted by dreamy images of some random guy ordering me to get up and get going who my mind very adamantly ignores.

Dream time is much slower than real time. An hour goes by. And its 7:00 AM. I wake up again as the random guy wins.

This is how it is. The three stages. Seldom have i been able to wake up early. On a few days, when I have, to study, I have dozed off while doing so. Being nocturnal is so much fun. And then there's Chandrama. Who wants to study when others dream about bikes? God bless the -that someone- who introduced snooze. "I tried."

Friday, January 2, 2009


Anger. I'm angry. I want to break some glass. I want to slap someone. I want to tear up entire books.

I feel like... :

1. Throwing my cell out of the window.

2. Clicking the power button repeatedly. It'll make the system crash.

3. Smashing my cube into pieces.

4. Burning. Anything.

5. Kicking the dustbin outside my room.

6. Ignoring gtalk-pests. Or maybe just throwing a really acidic fuck-off along their way.

7. Shouting.

I have other things on my mind too. But my brain's in just too chaotic a state to sort them out. Wish i had vampire teeth. Aaaarrrgghh!!!