"Happy" Guy Fawkes Day, Pt. II

So my friends, it seems as if we have come full circle.

Normally, people tend to reflect on the past year of their life at holidays that are by consensus viewed as significant, like New Year's or a birthday. I, however, choose Guy Fawkes day.

I shall now attempt to remember my life, month by month, in the past year. I do not care if this is profoundly boring for you.

November: Washington, D.C. At the risk of sounding melodramatic [Me? Melodramatic? haha!], a general loss of trust occurred during this month.

December: Did you know that Egg Nog+Pepsi=golden?

January: All I can remember at this point is that I got full marks on my French final. How sad is that? The memory part, not the grade, mind you.

February: The month sans meat. You can read about it. Somewhere. I'm thinking about repeating this. Albeit, when it's not Chinese New Year, so I don't have to go another year without the Firecracker Chicken of Panda Express. Priorities, man.

March: I cannot recall anything specific, but that was the era of "In the Spirit of Full Disclosure," hyperlinked for your convenience.

April: The Friday of empty classes, due to Coachella and Portland JEA. Euro review sessions.

May: AP test! And then God knows what. I discovered "Pan's Labyrinth" was actually brilliant, "The Graduate" ensured that Simon and Garfunkel trotted around my head the whole day, and most appropriately for this date and post, I finally got to see the entirety of "V for Vendetta."

June: A pretty good month. World cup! World cup! World cup! The last week was intensely stressful and very, very bittersweet. Closed out this month in Bombay.

July:Calcutta. In all sincerity, I've realized that a post on my time in Calcutta is ridiculously long overdue. This is one aspect of myself that irritates me to no end.

August: Calcutta, Dehra Dun, Delhi. Family reunions, full houses,c cold coffee, short tempers, psychopathic dogs, there's-never-such-a-thing-as-too-much-Chinese-food, and nail polish.

September: At this point, I hadn't talked to anyone my age, forget people in LA, in two months. I remember brimming with excitement to go to school and get my schedule, which actually ended up being the most glorious 1-6 schedule imaginable. School has a different vibe this year, methinks. But I think it's for the better. I have classes with people I haven't had classes with in years, whilst I have no classes with people who have been in at least one since fifth grade.

October: The busiest month of the year.

November: It's five days old. As for expectations, I can't sense anything about Kansas City next week, which is making me really impatient.

Looking back, I'm disappointed. I turned 16 one month and a day ago. It all happened so fast. There were things, some superficial, some...not, that I wanted to accomplish before I hit that mark. I need to get cracking. I turn 17 in 11 months [holy shit], and as everyone knows that means I can do magic outside of school and am therefore a legal adult.

Poll-ution

I cannot, in good conscience, call the title of the post clever, without going into elaborate tangents and stretching this post, a field that those of you who read my blog would know I'm very proficient in, but currently do not feel like getting into, as I am quite eager to get to the point, as is apparent through this brief sentence.

Let us take a look at the results of the two-month-old polls:

Do you like the changes to the blog? Comment on the post either way.

Seven of you oh-so-kind people voted on the poll. And all for the same option: "Maybe so nah nah nah." Now, I can see why I shouldn't complain about that, as I was the one who allowed it to be an option. However, my beef with you seven [or five, as you shall see] exists because of your failure to read the second part. Yeah! There were only two comments [meaning from two people] on the post about the changes, and only one of them was constructive.

However, if I perhaps quit insulting my readers, they'd do what I told them to do. That sounds sort of evil.

As for How did you find this blog?, I'd just like to know the story behind the "confusion/accident." I know of a couple people who were confused when they found it, but that was because they thought it was someone else's. Which is also an option. So, please tell me!

Choose your favourite[s]:

I have a feeling that one person chose all of them, another just chose darling Cacofonix, and another only chose the Shieldbearers, while a clueless [that is sincerely meant with no offense] fourth was honest enough to admit that they had no idea what I was talking about. Only four people voted on this, while nine voted on another, so I feel as if some of you could have been more honest. And the Shieldbearers were the scrappy underdogs [Not that I'd call Vitalstatix a dog-that's Dogmatix. Get it?!], coming behind from seriously nowhere. Seriously. I'd actually be quite interested in hearing why.

And now for the question that I saved last for a reason...

Due to bit.ly statistics that show clicks from random places...do I know you personally?

I have no friends. Well, two.

That's all I have to say. Oh, and I forgot a family option. Whoops.

I have no bloody friends. Except for two. Hmph.

Seesaw

...is infinitely preferable to teeter-totter.

A teeter-totter sounds like a teetotaler; the latter must keeps his or her balance as to not fall off the wagon.

Yikes, I am weakening!

This reminds me of the matrimonial ads I perused in India. This charmer of a man sought a "tall, fair, slim, beautiful, vegetarian" girl, while he expertly described himself as "tall, very fair, Rajasthani, 40-something, vegetarian, a teetotaler, and morbidly obese."

Points for honesty.

"Teeter-totter" also sounds like "tater-tot," my least favourite form of potato, after waffle fries. I once had the best plate of fish and chips in Sedona, but it was served with waffle fries! So, I resorted to stealing my parents'. That place had very good hot chocolate, as well.

I once got two massive bruises, in the shapes of my fists, from a seesaw. I guess my overgrown thirteen-year-old self kind of deserved that.

It's funny, though. Seesaws start to lose their appeal once you hit a certain height, as they cease to offer thrills. Yet, seesaws begin to strengthen their appeal once you hit a certain age, as you're reminded of the thrills you once got from them, when you were as tall as your bathroom sink, and not now, when the bathroom sink is as tall as your knees.

That is why I favour swings and tires. You can fly high or get really dizzy, take your pick. And then crash into the seesaw.

So, Thoughts?

As you may be able to tell, I changed the template/scheme of this blog. A lot.

I am torn between the old way and the new. Damn it. I should've taken a screenshot before I changed it!

Anyway.

I liked the simple, BLACK-ness of the old format. Images also seemed sharp against it. And it complemented my preferred Courier font.

But, I decided to change it since Blogger came out with a new way to design blogs.

It seems a bit crowded to me. I like the colours, but they're also a drawback. There are a lot, and some have trouble showing up against the various backgrounds. I tried to remedy it to the best of my ability, but I couldn't fix the 'days left to vote/how many votes' underneath the polls without changing the text colours of the whole page.

I might change it back or find a nice compromise. I miss the stark blackness. Either way, however I need to spend a lot more time with the design feature.

Thoughts, suggestions, comments, criticisms, ideas, pro/con lists are demanded! On any aspect of the blog.

And you don't have to be clever, and please please please don't post any comments here that talk about another post. Just do it there. Please, just talk to me about the layout. And vote on the polls. But do both! There's no 'or' option here.

ix

No, not nine.

I changed my display name!

No one, except Blessy ever calls me Mally, so 'twas kind of ridiculous to keep it. And it wasn't aesthetically right.

So, I have changed it. To Mallix.

See, I don't really have a nickname back home. Meaning LA. Meaning given by friends. You see, on the first day of every school year, I completely eagerly anticipate roll call, so I can hear my name mangled and then incorrectly correct the teacher. I tell 'em :"Mallika," the first syllable pronounced like a shopping mall. But in reality, the first syllable is pronounced "mull" like "I mulled it over and decided not to pronounce your name as Malleeeka." Ahem.

I don't bother giving that form of my name [Yes, I've now come to regard my true name as having two forms], as it's really hard for non-at-least-semi-Hindi speakers. People tend to overcompensate and it comes out like "Mule-ika." I'm not an ass, though you may be. I get too happy when I think of insults. Kinda ruins the effect.

The worst is when people correct subs for me, with such a disdainful attitude and like they know me so well. Yeah, it's my own fault that they use this Ikea form of my name [Digression: You know why I said Ikea even though it's not really a mall? Well, in sixth grade we had a sub called Mr. Morrisey. The first thing that greeted us when we walked in was 'The More I See, The More I Like' inscribed on the board. Uh. And then he wasted 20 minutes getting us to write 'clever' phrases to preserve our names in the collective consciousness instead of handing us the thing on Imhotep and Zsosor and the step pyramid that we were supposed to read. And I came up with something horrible like 'The Senator gave a speech next to the mall, Ikea.' But he was right. We never did forget his name]. And I don't mind it, actually, because I'm so used to it and it was of my own choosing. So please! Keep calling me that. My problem is I'm usually annoyed with whoever corrects my name and I usually mumble "I can speak for myself!" Kinda pointless. But you can correct it for me if you know I never get annoyed with you. Just not on the first day. Actually, just disregard this whole roll call business. I sound like a Mule-ika.

ANYWAY, back to the point seventy thousand paragraphs ago. There's not much you can do in terms of nicknames with the Fox Hills/Westfield Culver City version. Mally sounds like Molly. Mall sounds like, well, a mall.

So, that's why I'm broadcasting the version-that-my-parents-named-me form so you can see where my various family-given nicknames are derived from. But I'm not going to list them. But Mallix is one of them.

Pronounce it "Mull-iks."

AND the best part is that it ends in -ix. Like Goscinny and Uderzo's Gauls. I'm an Indomitable Gaul. Like Asterix and Getafix and lil Dogmatix. And let's not forget Cacofonix. 'cept only the men had -ixs, but all the women in the comics were insufferable, so I can be sufferable and thus earn the -ix.

Ironically, the Gaulish women all had names ending in -a.

Sorry, and You Should Be Ashamed

Dear Anonymice et co.,

Aren't I clever?

That's why you read my blog, right?

Unless you read it to scoff at me and my wonderful run on sentences that are absolutely okay because they make sense and are not confusing.

If your reason is the lator, quit PATRONIZING me and get off this sight.

Pffft.

On a more realistic note, since I have abandoned the notion that I should apologize in every post for my writing, I have a very serious message to convey to you. After I apologize for not updating when I say I will. But that's actually what I want to focus on. I've finally bloody updated and now I get no response. You ungrateful gits. Hmph.

With love,

Mallika

Naaah

1750 hrs

Me: We're going to Prithvi Cafe now? Isn't dinner soon?

Sai di: {incredulous expression} Soon?!

Me:...What time do you eat dinner in India?

Sai di: After 8:30?

Well it's worth the wait. It's been 10 months since the end of my last India trip, so I cannot be chastised too severely for forgetting the notion of Indian Standard Time. IST= an hour after what is conventionally normal/stated in invitation. Here follows an example:

-Arre yaar, come over at 8:30 for dinner.

{Show up at 10 pm}

-Ach, you're so early!

So, I'm back from the cafe place and from a 9:30 Italian dinner that ended at 10:45. You get the idea.

I am in India until the beginning of September and thus am able to justifiably renege on my promise to blog regularly to Anonymous on the previous post. Who is not going to love my writing style blah blah blah after this. Yo. My theory is that this person is my relative, most likely my father, as it is quite true that NO ONE reads my blog. Most of my 8 followers probably haven't ventured into this dusty attic of cyberspace in months. Feeling the love, guys.

I've been going to India at least once every year since I was a wee lass. It works out to a trip every 8 months or so. The minimum stay is 6 days, for my cousin-sister's weddings, and the max has been 7 weeks or so. OH I JUST REMEMBERED. IN YOUR FACE TEAM ITALY. HA. A-n-y-way, this trip'll be about 9-10 weeks.

And so two weeks after writing the above, lemme finish. I go on the computer every two days. I need to post something because there is a dearth of posts on this blog. So either tomorrow, since it is the weekend, or Monday, I shall write a lovely post about my adventures in Bombay NOT MUMBAI AS YOU WOULD KNOW IF YOU ARE A DEVOTED FOLLOWER. I know you're out there. Somewhere.

And I am now- well, in 2.5 hrs- going to watch the Germany-Uruguay match which is at bloody midnight. Which Germany will win. Because they're 'mazing. And because Muller {what the hell I can't find the bloody umlaut thing}is awesometastic and will definitely win the Best Young Play thingamagigy and Klose needs to beat Brazilian Ronaldo who had traumatizing teeth. Actually, the whole German starting XI is pretty awesome. I memorized them for fun. I have strange definitions.

ANYWAY, check out : twitter.com/modernoddity for my #badklosepuns tag which failed horribly. Yes, I'm slightly less ashamed of my twitter feed now. Slightly. And by the way, my apologies go out to my friend who was included in all the subsequent replies to my call for help with the tag due to the 'reply all' feature.

D-d-dare I say/I miss LA?