When i was smaller and more malleable, mum often said — study now child, you cannot see time move. Before you know you will be staring down at the question paper.
I have spent many afternoons staring down (or up) at the long hand of the clock, just to prove that i can see the time move, but most of the studying has been done in the ‘eleventh hour’ as father calls it.  I am hoping this eleventh hour will rise to the ocassion this august and september.

I have an exam, but besides that, pasta girl and i are on a secret mission. We have plans to accost a lot of random people, even the ones on the roads, into being our fnew best riends.  I have to basically find new best friends within a fortnight. Pastagirl will be away for more than a month between august and september, another good friend ‘72 mm’ (:D)  is leaving the clan to cross the seven seas in mid august. A dear friend akshoo has applied for a transfer out of pune. I am just running out of people i can still call on a saturday night at 11 pm and crib. I will admit that my immediate future looks rather bleak and unfriendly, so i have pressed into action – the eleventh hour plan. 

Which we put into action on saturday, walking down FC road when we spied an interesting looking house, which we thought  was perhaps a theatre group because of a pablo neruda quote outside. Pasta girl wanted to poke around. And when we rang the bell, the lady welcomed us in and it turned out to be the house of four hopefully interesting architects, who are sold on the wadi-type, minimalistic, mediterranian type style of architecture.

And as much as i realise that i might not be able to afford these guys when i build my home, nor can i call new architect friend at 11 pm on a saturday night, my movie plans for saturday evenings are at least taken care of, so said new architect friend – apparently they screen fancy european movies on weekends at the architect house, which has a pretty water body — by the by. And im thinking this is atleast better than a year ago when i would end up working for lack of other options.

Yes, maybe i wont have to pay for my sins jusst yet. p.s : i am so effing tired of this city. I so want to move, but being friendless and clueless in a new city is something i am not up to, at present. I need more time. I want to climb up to the menacing clock, unscrew the glassy cover and tell the long hand to stop moving, and if it doesnt listen to me, physically stop it from moving. Stop long hand stop, it is not yet time. I am still young and i want to be fine.

This is not important

because right now I am supposed to be hard at work, theorising, on my dissertation and this is the time I choose to write a post on my blog. I cannot help it. It’s in my blood: this tendency to waste time when I am on to some argument, which inevitably fizzles out when I get back to it.

In a while, I will orkut, then open Google chat then ofcourse check mail for the zillioneth time, even reply to spam mails abusing them for wasting my time, then worry that noone other than them seems to be mailing me. Even ma and pa have forgotten their child. Depression will pile on. I will check PTi and Google news, then wonder again if P Mukhs will die, what will happen to the front page tomorrow if he does, feel crummy, hope he doesn’t die then, hope Bush does.

Curse orkut now, that blasted sonic wall.  no images even, I say.

Then feel really really stupid and get back to a dissertation to a by-now-very weak argument. And then do a Wodehouse ( ‘I just stare at the computer and curse a bit)

This is a vicious cycle. What are the odds that I will be writing on this page again in a while?