I am now currently halfway through 'The God of Small Things'. It's making me feel very depressed. But then all award winning books usually do. It's after reading books like these that I really feel the need to pick up some Nick Hornby, or Helen Fielding or anything Pop-fiction like just to make sure I'm in touch with the real world and my MTV-short attention span-plastic life. And yet again and again I pick up the Brontes or similar to pass my time. Will some one please pry those wretched stories about struggling/unfair/unrequited love out of my hand? I abhor the way my eyes get puffy after reading them. I should stop pretending to be litarary and stick to happy light chick lit and similar!
Oh damn! I admit! I cried while reading Tony Parson's 'Man & Boy' too alright?
Here's something that must have been MTV-short attention span-plastic influnced:

C'mon sister, put your hat on lets go
We're gonna rock the house and put on a show
Where the music's playing
And the crowd, it's sizzling
It's gonna be hot, hot, hot!
But mama says: NO!

Please, mama, let me go!
Just this time
I'll be good, I promise you
Just say it'll be fine
I'll be on my best
Next week till next year
Just say yes
Don't need no mess
Please mama, let me go!

The moods' jiving
The party's hyping
I'm at home begging mama please
I'll ace my tests!
And take out the trash
I'm on my knees saying
Please, please, please
But still mama says: NO!

Unfinished. And embarassingly hip-hoppy. But those were the days. 14 year olds can be forgiven for treating Smash Hits as a sacred doctrine. Sugi, do you remember those days? That was when Shampoo's Trouble was the trumpet of rebellion. And all of us had a personal vendetta against Nick Carter. Whatever was his crime?
I am not rebellious. I adore rules and stick by them. Never question means no trouble. But I've carved my way out from the 'curse of being the eldest child', protected, cotton wooled and barb wired beyond help. Maybe writing my poems was the one little window I was allowed to let my soul roam free.