So you're sixteen?

Yes, I know, I resurrected the blog yet again. Maybe this is a sign I should just let it live instead of killing it off so often. I probably won't update as frequently, but I s'pose it makes sense to keep it around. Now, on to business.

Sabby, thanks for the tag.

Dear 16-year-old me,

I know you feel you don't need my advice, and you know what? You're right. You have all the advice you could possibly want, and more, from all sorts of sources. And to top it all off, you have more innate common sense than I do. And a lot more heart. Hang on to all that. I know you're an incurable romantic, but don't let that get in the way of your priorities. You haven't until now, so you should be able to manage that for a year or so yet.

Your dreams are within reach, and it's a lot easier than you'd think. Don't just give up because you start to feel that you're not so much better than the others as you used to think. You're actually not doing too bad. In fact, there are people who struggle for what comes to you so easily.

Live a little, though. Yes, you will look back, and long to have these times back. Not because your problems get any bigger, or more complex, like everyone seems to think. But just because you'll come to believe that you could've done a little better. You know that perfectionist streak of yours? It'll never go away. Nor, apparently, will the perpetual lateness. =/

Math for A/Ls? Stay away from that creepy pedo teacher of yours. That way, maybe you'll be able to keep your love for the subject, and your self-respect.

And boys? I know you won't believe this, but you'll get your wish not to be the ugly duckling anymore, and there will be boys - lots of them. True, it's awesome to have people admire the way you look, but remember to treasure the ones that value your heart and mind, as you do now. They'll be the ones who have a part of you forever. The first one? If you can make it work, do. If it doesn't, don't use that reason I did to end it. You'll regret it later, even if it seemed the thing to do at the time.

I know you think you'd never care for somebody who doesn't love you. But it may happen, whether you like it or not. If it does, remember that no matter how much two-way lust there is, if the love isn't two-way, it isn't going to be enough for you. And no matter what you think, you can't change him. In fact, that's a good general guideline - if you have to change a man for him to be what you want and need, he obviously isn't. Let him go before it becomes a bigger mistake. Hindsight's a bitch, isn't it? If you don't let go, there will be pain. And lots of it. You will become a different, not better person, and will do things you're not going to be proud of. So let's save us both the heartache, shall we?

Don't worry, there's hope. Lots of it.

OK, now that we've covered ambition and boys, let's move on to cash.

Don't let it rule your life. Don't rush into things you aren't ready for, just to fulfill some obscure goal of being and having everything you want by 25. There's time. Savour life as you live it, there are no replays.

Depression? For God's sake, just do something about it! It's stupid to wait for someone to save you. No one ever will. They'll all just tell you why you shouldn't be.

Most important of all, hold your head up high, no matter what happens, and no matter what you're going through at the time. Give as much of yourself to others as you can, but keep your core. You have the courage, the strength and the talent to survive. You'll need it to face the things that come your way.

Oh, while you're at it, be just a teeny bit nicer to your cousin. You'll miss her horribly when she's gone. :)

I'm sorry this isn't as entrancing a letter as you'd've hoped for. I swear, you will be able to write much better than this, but it's unseemly for you to look down your nose at your future self anyway. So there!

I tag AlterEgo, just to see what she'd say and Sain, if she's still blogging.

Why I want to stay in bed with the covers over my head

No. This isn't really about that although there are reasons aplenty for it. No, I'm not jobless. Yes, I do have work, which I will complete shortly.

Before we begin, I have an announcement. I've cut my hair. Yes, all of it. Let the games begin! I've already had the standard 'but you look like a boy!' comments, so a bit of ingenuity would be appreciated. I mean, not to inconvenience anyone or anything, but that does get monotonous after a while. Thank you.

OK, on to other stuff now. I'm sure you've noticed that a lot of people in advertisements don't look like they're Sri Lankan. This used to irk me, but now I'm glad things are this way. It allows me to pretend that everyone more good-looking than me is from another country (and hopefully, in another country).

Last night was a long one. I won't get into it, but I'm really tired of trying to explain. So, yes, I give up.

Work awaits. Will return later.

Prattlings

Turns out there's always an upside, even if it involves being lectured at by a fatboy. No, not a fratboy. That would be worse.

So. Planning to pull myself up by my fuzzy fuchsia socks, I am. But then I'd planned on doing that earlier on, and no one believed me then. Oh well. I've learned over the weekend that I'm heavier than I'm s'posed to be, thanks to a shelf giving way under me when I was smart enough to use it for leverage to get something out of a cupboard. Yes, the shelf is dead. No, I am not. I suppose this is a good thing, marking me as fit for survival, yes?

Periodically, I lose it. Probably hormonal, the doctors tell me. Gee aren't they the smart ones. From looking at a calendar, I could've told 'em that. And for those of you who think PMS is just hype, keep thinking that. Hopefully when your guts have been ripped out by an angry woman, and spread out on the floor in front of you, you can tell her it's a figment of her imagination.

So I went to Puttalam. Which has nothing to do with PMS, apart from starting with the same letter. And it turns out, men are quite highly thought of there. The billboard I saw is evidence of this - "Men too can make a difference", it proclaimed boldly. Such a groundbreaking revelation that I just had to share it.

In a bit of a hurry now, so will stop there. May post tomorrow if I have the time.

Flurry fluffy fuzzy fucshia... socks

Men will wear the strangest things.. hence the title of this post. Yes, I actually saw someone wearing one with black pants and a white shirt. No, I didn't not have a title for this post and reach in and scrape the bottom of the titulification barrel for it. Yes, I know exactly what I just said. And I know that it makes very little sense. My, my, aren't we making progress?

So back to the fluffy sock. It looked quite out of place on his foot (or ankle, in this case, because I didn't ask him to take his shoe off) - as though someone had stolen a cute little sockpuppet-on-his-way-to-becoming-the-next-Elmo and had the gall to wear him. Or them. I only saw one, and possibly due to Missing Sock Syndrome, the socks were mismatched anyway.

In other news... *cue shot of a scared looking newsreader as she turns over the page and finds it...wait for it.. blank*

Oh Really?

Self-Castigation

I've been quite busy lately, surprisingly enough. It's made me wonder why I insist on juggling a whole heap of stuff when I know I'm terribly uncoordinated and will drop everything while still flailing wildly, trying to be sure I catch it. And this is after I roundly chastise Darling Dad for doing the same - except he does it on a much larger scale. But being the spoilt only child, I should be allowed to whine when he jeopardizes my plans but not giving me a huge trust fund, shouldn't I? No? Really? Oh, alright then.

Knowing me, all this busy-ness has led to lots of procrastination, giving me time to contemplate the state of name boards on my way to places. I noticed a whole heap of security firms with names along the lines of 'Black Watch', 'Red Alert' and something 'Guards'.. I only wish there was one called BlackGuards. I thought it was funny at the time, but now that it's down in black and white, I can only conclude that my sense of humour is cornier than popcorn.

I've been spending time alternately giggling to myself at the most ludicrous things - things which I shall not mention here for fear of being branded a complete and udder cow (Yes, forgive the lameness today, it cannot be avoided.) - and sobbing over equally silly things. Feeling left out and out of place, something I thought I'd outgrown this year, but apparently have hung onto thanks to my packrat tendencies.

I've was told today that I'm lacking in confidence - that I talk it, but don't walk it - and I have to agree. I'm not sure when and where I lost the conviction that I was better than everyone else (believe it or not, I had it once), but I can't find it anymore. I don't have an inferiority complex, merely an equality complex. I don't like being on par with people, when I could be better. :P OK, that's not entirely true where looks are concerned, but only looks, so I may as well admit it. No matter how many times others tell me I'm beautiful, I never seem to match that inner picture of what I would like to be. This seems to be quite a recent development, because I used to be terribly complacent about it. Ah, the horror! Do I have to deal with teen angst now? The only consolation in all this is that I can take pride in the fact that I've enough of a sense of moral superiority not to hate those I wish to be like. :D

It also turns out that I'm extremely attention hungry. I live and breathe the right kind of attention, and when it's stinted, I get extremely upset.

Sometimes I take an instantaneous dislike to people I barely know. My head tells me that I don't know all of it, but there're some people who get my back up just by breathing. And then there are others who I develop an infatuation of sorts on as soon as I see them. I can't even give myself credit for good taste, because it's got very little to do with how they look.

So why am I spewing all of this out now? I don't know, but better out than in, I always say.. *bUUUUUUrrp* :D

There. I'm done for the night. Sleep awaits, hopefully.

Panging

Longing for old days and times past, for things that in the story of my life are mere moments. Wishing that I weren't wishing, mocking the dreams that bring yearning. The past is gone, let it lie. Some things are better buried until you die. This is how it was meant to be. Let it go. It's better this way, y'know. Those days of being lost, searching for that anchor must be done.

Now that anchor's found, stay still, stay strong. It's worth it, like the darkling voices say. This'll be there at the end of the day. It is what you asked for, or have you forgot? Stop blowing around like wind-flung chaff. Old passions have no place here. They don't rate a solitary tear. Stupid child, do you not know?

I have too much to do to listen to stupid voices in my head. And I know that what I have now means more to me than anything that's gone before. The whispers are just that, and I'm not listening to them anymore. There are no "couldhavebeen"s or "wouldhavebeen"s left. I've tried, and I know. But memory is a bitch. I forget everything. And then I remember - a song, a word, a touch. Breathtaking in its clarity. Heartbreaking in its distance.

Standing, I push it away. Life's too short. I've made my choice. And I've made it with all my heart.

Yes, utter nonsense, but I needed it out of my head.