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pinkpanzy
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Name: Chaya Tharangini
Gender: Female
Interests: Obsessions with Apolo Anton Ohno and Harry Potter, and of course, God, music, friends and family, key club, and apricots.
Expertise: obsessing, being the crown princess of english, the beauty queen of everything. = ) ohh and the huh? what? game = D
Occupation: Student
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
Member Since:
8/29/2003
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| I now have a blogger site: angelspinenvy.blogspot.com. Follow me if you'd like! | | |
| As the title may indicate, this will be a two-part entry, the first about my occasional spells of decent writing and the second about my weird, but so wonderful, relationship with my best friend.
I'm re-starting to work on a piece I began way back in September or October of last year. It was (well, is) a piece about responsibility and failing to live up to it, approached in a somewhat lighthearted way. I was inspired to write it, at the time, because I was terribly upset with myself for having recently lost an earring that I really loved and that I knew was rather valuable. [Side note: I've yet to tell my mother that I lost the front--I managed to find the back--of said earring. I'm afraid of her disappointment.] The other day I was thinking of those earrings again, which brought me back to the piece, which brings me to this moment, at which I am blogging as a break from working on it. If there's one thing I really should do during my time off from school (I graduated a semester early before starting medical school this fall), it's write a piece worth publishing and send it out. I can do this. My writing can be good. It's this last bit that I re-discovered when I was rereading the piece last night. For example:
In fact, losing jewelry is precisely the sort of thing to make me feel depressed. The sheer vastness of the impossibility of ever locating the earring or necklace devours me, and I am left breathless by the realization that [it could be anywhere]. (NOTE: the part in brackets should be italicized) When I was a child, my worst nightmare involved not monsters or ghosts but an impossible task and the resultant ineffable, but inexorable, sense of never being able to reach the goal. In the nightmare, I stood at the far end of a vast, futuristic plain of sorts, sobered by the knowledge that I would have to traverse a distance I could never quantify and walk past the horizon that even my dream eyes could barely see. The very worst part of the dream was not even my inability to name what frightened me the most about the task. Instead, I shied away from its inescapable message: you may as well not try, because you’ll never accomplish what you set out to achieve. Looking for a piece of precious metal gives me the same awareness of my smallness and the task’s vastness, the frightening sense (really, the frightening certainty) that the thing I want most could be yards from me, lying undiscovered.
Part II
My gay best friend and I are something of an odd couple. This is mostly because we are just really freaking weird people. Today we were sitting at the corporate coffeehouse on campus, rather close to one another (as we generally tend to be). I caught a whiff of his sweat and for some reason it made me think of Taco Bell. I told him this, and realized that I had made that connection because his sweat smelled like garlic. Imagine my surprise when he told me that he had crushed and eaten a whole clove of garlic, just like that, today [apparently it tasted like fire]. And that's why his sweat smelled garlic-y. And that's why it made me want Taco Bell. And after we had made that connection, we just looked at each other and went, I can't believe we just did that.
Yay illustrative anecdotes about key friendships. | | |
| This weekend I'm going to perform in a show on campus, and in preparation for it I have a plug for the show on my Facebook status, which precludes my changing it to reflect my thoughts, etc. I was just thinking that it sucks to not be able to write something I feel like writing on my status because of this plug, and then I remembered that I have a Xanga...
The semester is ending really (really) soon, and with it my college career. That's weird. I'm behind on my reading (as expected for this time of year) but it's much more grating than usual because I'm actually enjoying the books I'm reading for class (even The Monk by Matthew Lewis, and that's for my 18th century British fiction class, which is totally not that fun). Also bad is that I have two final papers to write (and they, or their rough drafts, are due SOON), and have yet to really begin either of them. I'm banking on its being a productive weekend, but I kind of know it won't be. Which is fabulous. I guess I'll figure out some way to get it all done.
In other news, I'm listening to Psapp radio (they're the band that sings Cosy in the Rocket, the Grey's Anatomy theme song) on my Pandora and "Sleeping In" by The Postal Service just came up and it reminded me how much I love that band. Which is actually what I wanted to write my Facebook status about. Which is what brought me here. Yay The Postal Service.
Over the summer when I had my last week at my internship, my coworkers took me out to dinner and then gave me a cute grass-green(ish) notebook to write things in. I wrote somewhat faithfully till approximately August (I finished the internship in late July) and then haven't written anything more or less since. That's bad. What kind of "writer" am I? I thought I would get so much more productive/organized/get better priorities this semester, but taking two classes ended up being a lot more demanding than I expected.
Also, I think I have an attention span problem. Which is worrisome. Because I'm supposed to go to medical school next year. How am I supposed to do that if I'm a bad study-er? Maybe I should go back to reading The Monk and stop playing my Pandora and sign out of Facebook..... | | |
| Friday night I went out to the local bar/pub/wine place scene with a couple girlfriends, which ended up being wildly enjoyable. And yes, I'm exaggerating a bit. Anywho, one of my friends got this AMAZING new SLR camera for her 21st birthday a couple weeks ago, and has been using it to excess of late. Which is a-okay with me, since it means I get a lot of awesome pictures taken of me, seeing as how she's a very good friend of mine. At the wine place we went to, I thought I'd get creative with the camera and took a picture of my wallet, keys, and phone on the pretty mosaic table we were sitting around:
Someday, when/if someone loves me, he (or she, I suppose, in a friend or family way) will look at this photo and feel warm inside because it reminds him/her of me. I kind of love the idea of someone's signature items reminding others of that person. 
Side note: I'm seeing Owl City in concert this weekend, and may I just say once and for all: I don't care how much you like his "Fireflies." I liked his music before you did. And yes, I realize that is kind of a bitch move. I'm comfortable with that. | | |
| Best Grey's line I've heard in a long time (from a song, so I guess it doesn't really count):
"You're the reason my heart beats. It's cause you showed it how." | | |
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