A Midnight’s Dillema

To write or not to write- that is half a question
To go over in the mind asleep;
Slings and arrows of wakefulness
To surface from its sea to consciousness
Or suppress them, end them. To sleep, to sleep-
No more- and by a sleep to say release
Let go of a thousand and more thoughts
That the mind is heir to- ‘tis euphoria
Devoutly to be wished. To sleep, to sleep-
To sleep, perchance till twelve. Ay, there’s the rub,
Of an eye, for ‘til the fresh rays come,
The thought has left this mortal coil.
This gives us pause. There’s the respect
That makes calamity of so long and dark a night.
For who would bear the glares and ticks of time,
The spacing out, the offended glares,
The pangs of a body hungering for sleep, and its arrival’s delay
The sleep deprivations and the spins
This patient merit of th’ body takes
When he himself his bed made,
With bare hands? Who would fardels bear,
To fumble in the dark, for the light switch
But the dread of losing that thought,
It’s departure to new-found lands
From where it never returns, puzzles the will
And makes us pick those quills we have
And have them fly over flapping sheets
Thus does the clock above make fools of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
To shut the eyes tight, and ward off all thought
Is sicklied o’er with the pale cast of another thought
But enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard, their currents hasten
But sleep must lose the name of action- Sleep-deprived you now!
The fair inkiness! Black, In thy testament
Be all my sins remember’d.


P.S. as you can probably guess, it’s that time of the year again.

Test time.


Bake Yourself a Happy Holiday Season!

I’m writing this one because I couldn’t not.

It’s that time of the year: vacation!

It’s the time kick back, have no fear, to give a cheer, and throw those books high in the air…
No, that wouldn’t be necessary. They already pile up that high.
Besides, I’m not one to throw books.

And that was the most pointless introduction I’ve ever written.

Anyway, let’s cut right to it.
Holidays are here, and while no one’s holidaying, it has been a pleasure to wake up at 11 am.
I won’t say anything about sleeping at 2… that’s sort of become the norm, hasn’t it?

I have, to my utmost satisfaction, replaced a computer textbook with a Ludlum book- of the Jason Bourne series- for  a while… that’s ephemeral.

But anyway… holiday season.
Allow me to address some myths.
Some folks worry that all the holiday spirit and sweet will, well, do what sweets are apparently supposed to do.
Tell that to someone who’s cupboard cleaning has finally caught up with them.
Or to someone who’s turned the house upside down whilst looking for a lost novel.
Or to someone frozen in a kneel-down position, carefully filling the floor with chalk powder.
Or someone stretching out to six feet in height to reach that nail on top to hang some lights.
Or to someone who’s spent their vacation the way a twelfth grader does. Sigh.

Holiday season… that time of the year when wearing itchy embroidered netted weirdly shaped clothes is no longer an accepted form of torture, but a must.

I’m staring at a possibility of being put into one and told how ‘cute’ it looks this year.
How can a seventeen year-old look cute.
But I’m not here to rant. I’m making an observation.
I imagine male traditional must be a lot more comfortable than female trad.
The worst that can happen in Indian male trad? Embroidery. Heavy embroidery. Terrible fitting.
But female trad?
The way most of the upper clothes are made is quite different from your average tee.
They’re made to narrow down around the rib cage and the waist. The male ones aren’t, they ‘flow’.

You wear a fem trad by pulling it over your head. Think of the discomfort of pulling something that narrow over your chest.
Female chest, might I remind you.

Then there’s the next level, who’s levels of discomfort I cannot even begin to imagine: the sari.
All I can do is wear the most constricting military can get, and salute.

Yet, it might finally catch up to me- the dreaded trad!
(This comes from a T-shirt wearer!)
So wish me luck!

So, holiday season… I lost my rangoli making virginity.
First time, and I went straight in with the powders!
Incidentally, my mum gave up and bought stencils this year.
I gifted her a protractor that made its way back during a cleanup session, which she promptly returned.
“I’ll leave the technical aspects to you”, was her succinct reply.

And so I did.

Here’s the world-famous twelfth grader entering familiar territory…

What else can you expect from me.

I went ahead, went overboard and made a Bakelite rangoli.
You can’t argue with me, because it’s symmetrical.


I got an immediate reaction from mum: a facepalm. But she does admit I did a much better job than her!
Heck, even the structure’s accurate, check with the IUPAC!

So did I study today, or did I not?
(Except that isn’t a valid question… despite all my rants, I don’t study everyday, not until we’re two weeks away from apocalypse!)

So sleep a little more, and happy Diwali from me!


Musings of an Exam Giver

It’s self explanatory. It’s addictive.

WARNING: Major geekish/chemistry/physics avalanche to hit in five, four, three, two…


Well, here goes.


See me right of the sunset
On your color TV screen
Powdered, yellow as I can get
If you know what I mean
Nitro-groups to the left of me
And nitro-groups to the right
Ain’t got no looks
But warn the kooks
Don’t you start no fire

I’m DNP, not dynamite
DNP- your chemistry ain’t right!
DNP ain’t shit that flows
DNP – watch me explode!


Leaving group to the rest of the compound:
Babe, baby, baby, I’m gonna leave you
I said baby, you know I’m gonna leave you
I’ll leave you when the ‘lectric charge,
Leave you when the ‘lectric charge comes a-rolling
Leave you when electrons come along.


The aldehyde musician
Went in for a trade
With a tip of a hat
Over counter he bade
Good day mister, I’m no trouble to men
Just a humming traveler, I’ve come alone
I’ve no gun, but I’ve a microphone
But I’d trade my Carbon for a Hydrogen,
For then, I’d finally have found my ke(y)-tone.


When you ask the chemist for recommendations and they pass something over the counter with an evil grin and say, “Try Nitrotoluene” and you smile for a minute before realising that they meant trinitrotoluene, or TNT.
[probably the reason why you can’t get TNT at a chemists’.]



Cuz they always said the sky’s the limit.


In the time of chimpanzees I was a monkey
Butane in my veins
And every other chemical compound in my head
And in spare sockets in my eyes.
       – Studying chemistry.


“Where it’s at
I got two study tables and a pile of books


All my life
I’ve been searching for something
Something never comes
Never leads to nothing
Nothing satisfies but I’m getting close

– And then one day, Heisenberg gave up and left it all to uncertainty.


Concentration of the reactants is inversely proportional to time. Sketch the graph… Concentration decreases over time.
Hold it, that’s my graph!



A + B + C = pi.
Sigh. I miss the times when crust + filling + bake + icing = pie.


Who knows what conversations go on between radicals when they undergo decomposition?
“Welcome to my breakdown.
I hope I didn’t scare you.
That’s just the way we are when we come down.”


Bohemian Lament

Is this a real pile? Is it just fall-acy?
Caught in a landslide
Of books sliding down on me
Open your eyes
Look up to the ceilings and see
I’m just a poor boy
Pile of books taller than me,
Knowledge easy come, easy go
Little high, little low
Any way the wind blows,
The answers seem to blow with them
Away from me

Mama just killed a man
Just the turn of a page,
Now he’s confused and filled with rage

Mama, the lesson’d just begun
But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away

Mamaaa ooooooooooo
Didn’t mean to make you cry
But I won’t be done with this by tomorrow
Grind on, grind on
As if nothing really matters.

Too quick
It’s time has come
Sends shivers down my spine
Eyes shutting all the time

Goodbye everybody
I’ve got to go
Gotta leave the world behind and face the books

Mama, oooooo
I don’t wanna die
And sometimes wish I’d studied a bit before

I see a little silhouette of a book
Scandium, scandium, can you be less scandalous
Thunderbolts and lightning are just electrons flying at you
Galileo, Galileo, Galileo, Galileo Galileo didn’t see this coming,

I’m an unpaired electron, no body loves me
Unpaired and Lost from his metal was he
Spare him his life of unfulfilled valency
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
Let him go!
Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go. (Let me go.) Ah
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
(Oh mamma mia, mamma mia) Mamma mia, let me go
Bismuth has an orbital put aside for me
For me
For mee!

So you think the plain ground state was made for I?
So you think I’ll just keep spinning here till I die?
Oh, gaining, velocity baby,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right out of here

(Put down the book, and)
Nothing really matters
All the prep there can be
Nothing makes the difference
For me.



Revere a million prayers
And draw me correctly into your pulpiness (ruled exam paper)
But there’s nothing there
Light only shines for those who’ve studied
Unleash a million pen marks
And blank out then erase them babe
Do you have no mind
It’s like it died
Long ago (Sometime last night)

Sleep feels warm to the touch
It can bring me back to life
But chemistry blazes me alive
Now I’m dead inside.

You’re free to give brains a fry
Whilst I am crushed and pulverised
Because you need control
Now I’m the one who’s letting go
You like to give an inch
Whilst I must convert to centimeters
But now I’ve nothing left
You have no cares and I’m sleep bereft

Your skins feels warm to caress
There may be magic in your pages
On the outside, you’re ablaze and alive
But you’re deadly inside

Fill me now, with expertise
I need you to sit in my brain
Open up to me, stop hiding from me
It’s hurting, babe
Only you can help me pass
Don’t leave me out in the cold
Don’t leave me out to die
I gave you everything,
I can’t give you anymore
Now I’ve become sleep deprived.


When the super-important, favourite-child, Earth-shattering discovery of a ‘100% appearing’ question does NOT feature in your paper and you were COUNTING ON it – Butthurt.



Believe you me I have a pocket dynamite. It’s not an insulated wire cutting gone wrong.


Exams in 5 days.



I’ve just found the meaning of life.
(On the Internet, no less.)



Loki got it easy. He became the god of mischief. Mischief. How easy is that. Try being the god of chemistry. Won’t last a day.
Pull this pin, let this world explode.


Light falling on a perfect black body:
“Hello darkness my old friend
I’m back in black!!”


It was a sad moment.
Someone said to me, 3DS, as in the Nintendo 3DS.
I had a mini brain crash and was left wondering HOW on earth do you mix a 3d and a 3s orbital like that.
And then another meteor crashed: that of memory.
Hello from your past? Remember Nintendos? You fucking own one.

Oh, crap.


The name’s Bond.
Pi bond. Code =.


Chemistry is all about observation and educated guesses.


The answer my friend, is blowin’ in the wind
The answer is blowin’ in the wind.

How easy would exams have been then!


If your mum is practicing to enter a Make the Weirdest Face contest, go ask her for some dihydrogen monoxide.


Frenkel defect.
Frenkel’s life: When you work so hard to discover a void, and get a defect named after you.

(At the end of it all)
Frenkel: Frenkly my dear, I don’t give a damn anymore.


Effects of chemistry:

Every step that I write is another mistake I’ve made
Every second I waste is more than I can take

I’ve become so dumb
I can’t draw you there
Become so tired, so much less aware
I’m becoming listless
All I want to do
Is catch more of sleep
And care less about you


Chemistry textbook: Aniline smells a bit fishy.
– Look at the crow calling the Raven black!


At 2 am
And all the coffee junkies
Open their pen-scratched palms
And ask angels made of ticking clocks and garbage scream out,
What will save us
And then the sky opens up
Everybody wants to change the world
Everybody wants to change the world
All I, want to do is try
Wanna try, wanna try, wanna try
Wanna try, wanna try now
To change the test date


City rains: The rain, my friend, is blowing in the wind,
The rain is blowing in the wind

I still don’t think it’ll ever be enough! They’d make us wade through the knee deep water and write the paper if they had to!

Sometimes I wonder if My Chemical Romance got their name after spending long harrowing hours with their chemistry textbooks.


“Aromatic amines are less basic than aliphatic amines.”

Of course are, have you tried sitting all day drawing hexagons over and over?


Rho rho rho your charge
Gently down the currents
Merrily merrily merrily merrily
Life’s an iostream.


C/C++: making hashtags cool before they were even called hashtags. #pound #include


Note: Despite all I’ve written about electrons, after a day without electricity (well, mostly) I’ve rediscovered my respect for the tiny unseen particles that control so much of our lives.



That’s about all of the rubbish I managed to squeeze in with 3 weeks or so of pure exam giving.

Whether or not it amounts to much in my papers is yet to be seen. But I hope you enjoyed this post!


Bohemian Lament

Exams draw near, and it brings out the worst in me.

In my defence, I get bored.


Is this a real pile? Is it just fall-acy?
Caught in a landslide
Of books sliding down on me
Open your eyes
Look up to the ceilings and see
I’m just a poor boy
Pile of books taller than me,
Knowledge easy come, easy go
Little high, little low
Any way the wind blows,
The answers seem to blow with them
Away from me

Mama just killed a man
Just the turn of a page,
Flicked an eye and now he’s dead

Mama, the lesson’d just begun
But now I’ve gone and thrown it all away

Mamaaa ooooooooooo
Didn’t mean to make you cry
But I won’t be done with this by tomorrow
Grind on, grind on
As if nothing really matters.

Too quick
It’s time has come
Sends shivers down my spine
Eyes shutting all the time

Goodbye everybody
I’ve got to go
Gotta leave the world behind and face the books

Mama, oooooo
I don’t wanna die
And sometimes wish I’d studied a bit before

I see a little silhouette of a book
Scandium, scandium, can you be less scandalous
Thunderbolts and lightning are just electrons flying at you
Galileo, Galileo, Galileo, Galileo Galileo didn’t see this coming,

I’m an unpaired electron, nobody loves me
Unpaired and Lost from his metal was he
Spare him his life of unfulfilled valency
Easy come, easy go, will you let me go?
Bismillah! No, we will not let you go
Let him go!
Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let him go!) Bismillah! We will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go
(Let me go.) Will not let you go. (Let me go.) Ah
No, no, no, no, no, no, no
(Oh mamma mia, mamma mia) Mamma mia, let me go
Bismuth has an orbital put aside for me
For me
For mee!

So you think the plain ground state was made for I?
So you think I’ll just keep spinning here till I die?
Oh, gaining, velocity baby,
Just gotta get out, just gotta get right out of here

(Put down the book, and)
Nothing really matters
All the prep there can be
Nothing makes the difference
For me.


Cycle of Life

I was reading an article on how the population equilibrium on the planet will be maintained- a cycle of events that supposedly take place, that ensure a balance in human numbers on the planet.

Very roughly, they cycled as follows:
At first, there was a medium-ish population, and a small, hand sowed-and-reaped produce just enough to feed it.
If the population increased, the food supply was the limiting or checking factor, maintaining our population size.

Then came the mechanisation.
All of a sudden, with industrialisation, machines were reaping more crops than ever.

For once, an increasing population had enough, and even surplus food in store. (Cue: the Great Depression of the late ’20s, where the grain produce was so much, it had no more value in the markets.)

With this, and advances in technology and medicine, the so-far tight check on population growth loosened, and what began was the third phase of the cycle: something we call the population explosion.

In this stage, life conditions look relatively hunky dory, people live, live, and keep on living.

We’re accelerating too much, the problem of today.

Well, here’s what the cycle says.
This is where a fourth phase in the cycle kicks in.

There will then follow a stabilisation, wherein, with lower mortality rates and more longevity, humans will start reproducing less.
There simply won’t be a need for people to have as many kids anymore.
[Also, I may add, the lack of a libido, as seen in the Japanese, and the introduction of AI into the sex sphere, may play big roles in bringing down the very need/urge for human sex, and indirectly, reproduction.]

Now, I’m not economist or researcher. But I have another theory.

The human race will advance further in the intelligence sphere, and we’ll soon be delegating our intelligence to algorithms.

We’ll progress to the point where we’ve become far too comfortable.
(And trust me, we’re on our way there.)

The human body was designed for action. We were predators and prey once. Now we prey on the supermarket.
We use to be on the move.

Heaven knows we may adapt to inactivity. But mostly, I think that would fall apart.

Soon, non-movement-related illnesses would begin to take control of the human race, and human numbers will fall, because most likely, we won’t be able to reverse the damage.
Lifestyles mostly only progressively change, not regressively.

Now birth and death rates will balance out, and for all you know, despite improving technology, we may not have the problem of food surplus, because of the growing importance of (and money diverted to the production of) medicinal precautionary drugs, etc. in the human diet.
We come back to Step 1 of the cycle, i.e., balance. (Birth = death ≤ food supply).

There is another way, though.

Human beings’ strongest claim to the top of the hierarchy has always been their superior thinking ability. We’ve outsmarted and ousted almost every other dominant species on the planet. We call it civilisation.

But, of late, we’ve been handing over the reigns to the Golden Age bearers; with a machine to do everything a human can, the human needn’t work anymore. We have submitted to the idea of the Reigner Supreme: the now preferred machine.
Soon enough, the machine takes over the thinking aspect as well. Like a rusting machine, the now-useless human brain rots away in wastefulness.
No longer the well-oiled machine it once was, the evolution of the human brain stops.
With our front running claim to the top, our biggest weapon blunted, we will slide lower. Rationality and logical thinking will be lost, one bad decision will lead to another, till we’ve effectively dwindled down to the last human.
Ain’t that hard to kill the last dodo, is it now?

At last the cycle will end, and the winners, created by the ones they destroyed, the Reigning Machines, the victors, would stand tall, perfect and purposeless.

Hey, I’m only a science fiction writer, but who’s to say that dolphins won’t rule our planet one day?



Journaling my Journal

Trying to work on finishing my lab manual.

How blockbuster.
I have until sundown to finish writing all my physics practical experiments. Great job, Teach’.
That was delivered to cinematic perfection.

I had all holidays to do it, but I didn’t. I told myself, once my tests are done, I will write the damned thing, it’s all in a day’s work.
And then I let it go.

Till today. Teach’ drops it in so casually, you couldn’t have imagined it causing any damage till the damage was done.
Plenty whaaaaaaat?????’s follow.

I’m writing a physics journal write now. Oh, sorry, I meant right now.
But I’m also journaling my writing of my journal. ‘Cuz I’m bored.

Disclaimer: I don’t suppose this is going to be all grammatically correct, since it’s just a draft of thought. My main aim is to finish the journal, this is ‘cuz I’m bored. And why not, it may even be a guideline to someone else who’s on the last minute thing. (Don’t leave it to then!)

Well, here I am then, physics journal. But I’m doing maths. I’ve planned it out.
20 minutes an experiment. 15 experiments. 5 hours? I should be done by 12! Joy, I may get a few hours of sleep!

Fact: My last journal writing period was exactly like this one.
One day to go, a whole journal to complete.
It took till 1 then, but the good part was that I finished listening to (and pretty much learned by heart) the whole Sounds of Silence album.

I have too much journal work left to include a link. But Google exists and thrives for a reason. Give a listen sometime.

Update on my journal: I’m thinking of throwing in some Lorem Ipsum in the procedure and listening to Nirvana.

Journal writing can be a very creative process.
You need to think of the shortest word to replace a sentence and still need it to look convincingly long. I don’t even have a very big handwriting.

Did you know you can covert a galvanometer into a voltmeter? All you need is a little patience, very high resistance converted in series luck.

14 experiments to go!

Mean heart
Cold heart
Cold heart
Cold heart

These are not only Tourette’s lyrics.

Hello darkness my old Friend
I’ve come to talk with you again
Because I plan to see you and then shut my eyes again
And resume my sleeping

What an idea would bunking be tomorrow?
I’ve 14 experiments and, like 7 hours before the day changes.

Did anyone watch England’s incredible 377-7 against Pakistan in the Women’s World Cup yesterday?? Shame it was rained out, as today’s game (SA vs NZ) looks to be heading to, but Pak had their task cut out. Ayesha Zafar batting pretty well, though.

I feel like Usain Bolt.

“You take a 98% concentration fuming nitric acid and add the acid to three times the amount of sulphuric acid. Do this in an ice bath. Then add glycerin with an eyedropper, drop by drop. You have nitroglycerin.”
Nitroglycerin is a dynamite.

Fight Club is the one time you’ll love chemistry. Unless you love it already.
The part I love, is that I actually understand what he’s saying out there.
Now back to the physics.

I just cut down a three line point to half a line. Then I realised that doesn’t work. Then I had l lengthen it. Manipulate your manipulation. We lead sad lives.

A friend once said they felt wrong being ungrammatical in notes. I think we’ve passed that stage a while ago. I’ve lost all my articles. And most words under three letters. Unless they’re absolutely necessary.

Rain, rain, please leave England
I believe you’re better appreciated here than in no man’s land
Please flood the school entrance till no one can enter
If you’d like to keep going, the more the better
We’ll decide how much to grade my journal based on synchronised swimming with excuses.
(I’ve picked up quite a few on the last survey.)

Hamlet’s eternal dilemma: to take a bathroom break, or not to take a bathroom break.
I’d thought a phone break was out of question, to be honest.

I’m thinking of the song Friday I’m In Love. Would it have hurt to have been a Friday?

Enough with me being a Negative Creep. I’ll be more positive now. Not for the wrong reasons. But I may just finish.

Last year’s physics journal anecdotes:
A friend finished his journal with quite a flourish last year: his procedures included half the class’ names and movie dialogues.

Another pal began writing her journal with music on. Her aim turned out to be a lyric. The page found it’s way to the dustbin. She later tells me, I mostly listen to instrumental stuff while studying.

We’re losing handwriting. And time.

How many pens will I finish in one sitting?

Only twelve to go!!

Spherical Mirror Parallax removal: The one time looking in a mirror is not vanity.

Past journal anecdotes: (not mine this time)
Our physics teacher had once told us that an examiner had been unhappy with a graph in a mirror experiment that labelled ‘u’ (object distance) and ‘v’ (image distance) because she felt it could get mistaken for ‘u’ – initial velocity and ‘v’ – final velocity. Speeds in a mirror! We’ve seen it all.

I actually don’t know who I’m trying to entertain throughout my journal writing.
My chances of finally making it in time? Not.

It started raining suddenly and hard this evening. A cat got surprised and yowled in agony. And again. And again. For ten whole minutes!

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
And heaven knows I’m miserable now

– Sounds like me all of last week. And the holidays.
(The song is by the Smiths.)

All my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay
Oh I believe in yesterday
(and tomorrow, forevermore, procrastination)

I’m not half the man I used to be
There’s a shadow hanging over me
(under my eyes)
Oh yesterday today came suddenly

I He said something wrong now I long for yesterday
(and all my nonexistent summer break)

Soon to come: An Ode to Coffee.
We’re not yet at that stage, it’s like, 8 o’ clock. Still running.
Have I mentioned I feel like Usain Bolt?


My little sister these days knows more practical science than me.
We’ve reached a point where Facebook videos have better science ideas than a 12th grade physics/chemistry textbook.
Who knew the worth of a hot glue gun.
(Soldering guns can be used to fix pickups. Guitarist, alert!)

11 to go!

This countdown seems worth it. Almost. If only it could move as quick as the doomsday clock.

If only this work were cheese
Everyone would be at ease

Cheese and fine wine are a few things that only get better with procrastination, unlike my situation.

Wait, introspection when I’m only 5 down? What am I doing!

I’m looking hopefully to the sky for a number of reasons:

a) When the zetas fill the skies
It’s just our leaders in disguise
b) Rain. Rain? Rain! RAIN!?
c) Looking for the odd-lightning bolt to strike and turn me into the Flash. I need the speed.

At 9:30, as I sit and write a lens experiment, my instincts open up. My situation is clear before me.
Everything comes into ‘focus’. 😉
(Naw, have I fallen this low?)

My book cautions that in an optical bench experiment, “tips of the needles should be as high as the lens.”
I don’t know what to interpret anymore.

I just misread sexiest as sexist. Am I getting defensive, or is the work getting me?
(Don’t worry, it wasn’t in the physics book.)

10 to go.

Declare this an emergency
Come on and spread a sense of urgency
And pull us through
And pull us through
And this is the end
This is the end
Of the world

(There will always be a Muse influence on me. Sue me.)

Teacher, leave us kids alone!
All in all, it’s just another brick in the wall
All in all, it’s just another prick in the wall.

Sigh. 9 to go.

9 still to go, but I’ll keep updating here!

Someone get me a fast forward button for the night.

I’ve realised my maths assumption at the start of this Herculean task was probably as screwed up as I’m going to be by tomorrow morning.

Journal/Practicals anecdote: We were doing an experiment with a travelling microscope.

A pal of mine, great guy asks our teacher, “Ma’am, if I take a microscope with me for a weekend drive, does it become a travelling microscope?”

Practicals fact: My chemistry lab partner and I have set off the smoke alarms in the chemistry lab twice in two weeks already.

Test tubes can get awful c-c-cold
(Talkin’ ’bout my generation)
Why not break some before you get old
(Talkin’ ’bout my generation)

Been there, done that.


I got no motivation
Where is my motivation
No time for the motivation
Smoking my inspiration

(Lyrics to Longview by Green Day.
I can see those alarms going off a third time.)


Has someone taken your faith?
Its real, the pain you feel
You trust, you must
Is someone getting the best, the best, the best, the best of you?

Yes, I must confess, I didn’t imagine it was this much. I told a friend in the evening, that with 12 experiments to go, I’ll probably complete by midnight!

She laughed nervously and said, honey, I don’t mean to burst your bubble, but that ain’t happening. Not today.

Shit, I suppose.

Oh no love! You’re not alone
No matter what or who you’ve been
No matter when or where you’ve seen
All the knives seem to lacerate your brain
I’ve had my share, I’ll help you with the pain
You’re not alone!

Oh, dear, I actually want someone to tell me this right now!

We’re now in the next day. Crap. Aborting mission? Almost at that! Maybe a few more…

She says we’ve gotta hold on to what we’ve got.
It doesn’t make a difference if we make it or not.
We’ve got each other and that’s a lot.
For love we’ll give it a shot.
Whoaaaa, we’re half way there
Whoaaaaao, Livin’ on a Prayer
Take my hand and we’ll make it I swear
Whoaaaa, Livin’ on a Prayer

It actually doesn’t make a difference anymore… It’s sleep or coffee, every cell for itself!

So… I end the day with 7 experiments to go… Not too bad progress! I’ll have to fend for myself tomorrow, but I gotta admit, it’s been an interesting journal writing session.

Thanks for keeping me company all these hours! (Sort of.)

Sparks will fly and smoke alarms will ring tomorrow.

Good night!




This is after school, the next day.

For anyone who’d want to know about the smoke alarms, or how the day after went, I’ll let you in on this.

You know, life has funny ways of going about itself.

I decided not to bunk, despite the fact that I slept at 12:30 and got up at 7.

50% of my class bunked. Was that encouraging? We actually had 50% of the class present, that was a surprisingly big number of people attending! 😛

So our present population also had a big number of people who hadn’t completed their journals, and we figured,

If we die, we’ll die together,

And then the first period for the day begins.

It’s English. Our teacher’s busy next week. She wants some extra teaching time.

Guess what? She’s decided to borrow time off physics. Not ten minutes or so. The whole period.

I’ve lucked out! All that was running through my head was this: ‘Well, what do you know! I guess sometimes Fortune does favour the brave!’

So in the end, I have a great experience behind me, and all’s well that ends well!

Just 7 experiments to go!




So how did today go?

I’ve decided that both I and other readers would be pretty fed up with scrolling down endlessly through till we both have finger sores (wait a minute. I’ve written a journal for, what, a net worth of ten hours, are we talking about my finger sores?), so Day 2 of my conquest is a separate post.

Follow the madness here!

(And thanks for keeping me company through those lonesome early hours of the day!)

Saviour of the Universe

Ooh, has this blog been bustling!!
Over the last week, I’ve received about ten new email follows already, but I’m not exactly jumping about them, in reality, they’ve only been really hit-and-run, and I’ll explain that further.

You know when you sit down to create your new email id (your thirty-fifth one) and really don’t know what to name it? You eventually end up hitting your head/hands over the keyboard like a tortured Bach and then run to Enter before you can truly realise your latest masterpiece.
So has been the case here.
I’ve been receiving follows from all the qwertyabcxyz’s I could, and they’re all Outlook ids, everyday/second day, similar time.

Yes, I know they’re spam. But I didn’t really take notice. Heck, if they’re scammers, their self-appointed job is to spam me, in this situation, it’s me who’ll be spamming them. Besides, the stats look pretty, don’t they?

But before you question the validity of my blog, I’ll give you the latest: they’re all gone, each and every one of them. Poof, vanished.

I’d be lying if I said I weren’t disappointed. I’d have loved to engage some random jobless people hunching over a computer somewhere in ‘Latin America or the Carribean islands’ (unless that’s a VPN). They all (all the drunk-slam id’s of the same person) unfollowed.
Oh well. I guess that was the last of my spam interactions.

Boy, was I ever wrong.

So yesterday, after a long day of coding, I open my inbox to check for college mail, aand I see an email from an ‘Alex’.
I click.
WordPress wants to let me know that there’s a new comment on my blog. The grammar’s beautiful. See, on this blog, I have a ‘Moderate Comments’ setting on.
Unfortunately, I’d forgotten to do that on my other blog.
Soon, I receive another email.

This time, WordPress informs me that a comment has already been published on my blog.
It’s from–guess who–Alex!

It reads:

Nice blog here! Also your web site rather a lot up fast! What web host are you the usage of? Can I am getting your affiliate hyperlink on your host? I want my web site loaded up as fast as yours lol

The grammarian in me is moved to tears.

I’m annoyed, at 2 in the morning when I’d rather be sleeping (second thought: when would I not?), I’m being spammed by some bored spammer over lunch. What’s worse, my spam filter seems to be down. This shouldn’t have gotten through in the first place!

I’m about to hit ‘Mark Spam’.
Then I realise I haven’t watched a James Veitch Scamalot video in a month. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about, I highly recommend you Google him up. Top-notch fellow, rising comedian who’s routine consists of his true-life trysts with replying to spam emails. Worth your time, I kid you not.)

So I decided, I need my fix.

I hit reply.


Thank you.
If you want your website or weblog to be as fast as this one here, YOU MUST SUPPORT NET NEUTRALITY, MY FRIEND!
T’is the only way.

I sat back satisfied. There! With such a reply, even the guy must know he’s not doing a very good job being conspicous, nor is he getting what he wants… whatever he wants. I don’t expect to hear back.
But you know we wouldn’t be here reading this if he didn’t, don’t you?


I am no longer positive where you are getting your info, however good topic. I must spend some time finding out much more or understanding more. Thank you for magnificent info I used to be looking for this info for my mission.

Interesting. Now I definitely see reason for using 10 different IDs. Also, I’m glad my little poem complaining about my life was vital for you to gt the codes you need to prevent a nuclear apocalypse. I forgive you, Alex.


Thank you, 007. I advice maximum caution, and wish you the best of luck in completing your Mission successfully.

Alex is on a Mission. He has a clear target in mind. (Wish I knew if he knows what it is, but) He’s out to get it.
Guy won’t give up.
He tries again, with a different email id.
Unfortunately, he forgets to change his name. He’s still Alex. Hey, it’s alright. Changing ID’s must be like replacing the flowers on his table.
If he has any.

Alex (with a new qwoxzcdfwdw@outlook ID):

Wow, amazing blog format! How lengthy have you ever been running a blog for? you make running a blog glance easy. The full glance of your web site is great, as smartly as the content!

I like butter. I also like running. Running long, pointless conversations.


I agree with you, making a blog run sure is a lengthy task! In fact, we’re aiming for the 20k next month! You ought to join us!

Are you getting a hang of this? The point is to be as pointless, and as annoying as them. And pray you haven’t forgotten a chemistry test that’s happening the next day. No, I cannot complete a post without the word ‘chemistry’. I must be extremely bad at this.

Unfortunately, our friend Alex is too!
In fact, he managed to remember this blog too. The post he had targetted was one I had posted on both my blogs, so it must’ve been easy for him to get confused. My spam filter is on here, but this was as good as they come, I couldn’t pass it up.


You actually make it seem so easy together with your presentation however I in finding this topic to be actually one thing which I believe I might never understand. It kind of feels too complicated and extremely large for me. I’m looking forward on your subsequent publish, I will attempt to get the dangle of it!

See, I was feeling pretty perky by now. I felt benevolent replying to this.


Don’t get discouraged, Alex! I recommend signing up for the Word of the Day on https://dictionary.com, it’ll work wonders! For example, a word like Floccinaucinihilipilification might seem huge, but it really only means ‘to judge something as worthless’.
Once you expand your knowledge, you’ll start feeling more confident about yourself! Go for it!

PS: if that doesn’t work, try singing in front of a mirror.

And I look forward to hearing from you on other posts soon!

If nothing else over the past half hour, he sure got part of this message.

Of course I heard back from him. He was sort of becoming my pen pal/ego booster by this point. Feeling low? Alex thinks your post can save the planet from destruction! (Yes, I received that thrice.)
He;’s at it again.


I’m not certain where you are getting your information, but good topic. I needs to spend a while learning more or working out more. Thanks for magnificent information I was looking for this information for my mission.

Alright, I get the point, I’m the Saviour, ain’t I? I don’t have to hear it from you.

I didn’t reply.

I think I broke him. His eyes opened. He saw the Truth.
I can sleep.

This afternoon, I check my inbox.
No Alex, bummer.

But, I have an email from an Enid Townsend.
Someone likes reading, and someone likes music.
And someone never grew up beyond Enid Blyton. Possibly. I don’t judge a book by its cover, nor a comment by the number of x’s/c’s/q’s in its sender’s email address.

Just to be sure, I check up the IP address.
Sure as day, it says ‘Latin America or the Carribean islands’!
Guess who’s back! I’m almost touched, Alex, no no no, wait, Enid remembered me beyond a day!

She says:

I appreciate, result in I discovered exactly what I used to be looking for. You have ended my 4 day long hunt! God Bless you man. Have a nice day. Bye

I love her already. She’s a rebel. She put a full stop for every sentence but the last. I have to oblige with a reply.


You did?! Lucky you, man! I’m glad you didn’t end up like this guy. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3-5YC_oHjE
He’s been searching for 30 years now… maybe you guys should trade the secret to success, or something.

I haven’t heard from either after that, and it’s got a bit lonely with just me and those Carbon atoms, so I thought of sharing this here. Hope you enjoyed it, afterall, I’ve got to start catering to real people again!

Also, someday when I’m famous and you read my biography, you’d have heard it first: I just saved the planet from nuclear apocalypse.

Over and out.

Also, come morning and guess who’s back? Latin America’s buzzing me.

Kristi Acevedo: F*ckin’ amazing things here. I am very happy to look your article. Thank you a lot and i’m having a look ahead to touch you. Will you kindly drop me a e-mail?

I don’t know what to say anymore. I oughta file for sexual harassment.

So I reply:

Dearest Kristi,
How did you know I’m so clumsy? I drop emails, and tons of chemistry textbooks and press irons when they’re hot too! If you’re clumsy too, it’s about time you emailed zeklutzunion@klutzy.com

Unfortunately, I have a new follower in the most ancient sense: someone who won’t stop following up!

Lenora Novak (aka Alex):

You can certainly see your skills in the work you write. The world hopes for even more passionate writers such as you who are not afraid to mention how they believe. Always go after your heart.


Awwww, you know, I’ve always wanted to be an open heart surgeon, I suck at it.
You’ve just made my day!
I shall always remember to believe in myself and go for it thanks to you, training be damned!!
Also, do you mind if I quote you to my detractors?

What’s more, Alex has been exploring my blog, and has found other posts too.

He chose a post titled Doom to post his next masterpiece:

Kim Miranda:

Thank you for another great post. The place else may anyone get that type of information in such an ideal approach of writing? I have a presentation subsequent week, and I am at the look for such information.


Man, Kim… If you’re looking for Doom, where on earth do you work??

And hopefully, that’s it for now. It must be pretty late at night in the Caribbean, so we may have more tomorrow.
But heck, chemistry’s call is stronger, so I’ll try to keep the suspense… for a little while at least.
That’s all from me!

Update! I have nothing left to prove.

Gotta give it to the guy though, he’s a real sport!


Do I want a change of scenery?
It’s the fifteenth time this wall has passed by me
Or fifteen more, easily

Mission’s lost signals to ground control
And now my mind’s truly alone
Is anyone home?

And I look to the skies for a sign of the end
But the laws of space and time have bent
I declare I cannot be ment

I’ve walked this fine line fifty times
And repeated these fifteen lines
Leave me alone and I’ll be a walking landline

I am a looping, skipping tape
How much more can you take
With the ever-rising stakes?

Snap me out of this apathy
It’s got a stranglehold on me
My motivation steamed and is nowhere to be seen,

Just lie a little…
Just try a little…
Die a little…
Lye a little…
Cry a little…
Was always sci-fi to me,
And now it’s all I see in me.

When Alarm Bells Ring

I’ve pretty much been leaving myself Post-It’s all over the house. I swear, if I expanded base to the whole city, we’d practically be living  in a Paper Town.

Our walls are practically caking with paper now. Once when we were out of space, I grabbed a permanent marker and left myself a note on the glass to conduct a survey. Of course, when it was done, I ethanoled it off. Deodorant’s honestly more handy this way!
Hey, science student here.
Not surprisingly (and I mean that), I learnt this neat trick from a lifeskill teacher.

It has happened on more than one occasion in school that I’ve drawn or written a preparation reaction for a bomb without knowing. IUPAC’s doing a good job, replacing all well known names with less dangerous-sounding ones!
Some are more obvious, of course.
2,4,6-trinitromethylbenzene, anyone?
(It’s TNT, just for the record.)

There was this once when we were in the chemistry lab at school, doing salt analyses.
My lab partner and I have a penchant for, well… living up to the crazy-haired dudes-in-white image: being a bit excited.
Now, we don’t really screw around or try dangerous reactions as such, but we’ve broken a test tube or two and set off the smoke alarms a few times in the lab.

Not in the recent past though, half owing to the fact that we’ve pretty much had exams going on ALL of last month; I had a printed calander of the month of November, and guess what, it was my test schedule. Another reason why there have been no sirens was because the last time we entered, last week, the alarms are in our chemistry teacher’s head. We had one of the most confusion-filled, messed up practicals, and they were our mocks, prelude to the real deal… It’s a story for another day. It was tragic, but hilarious.

Basically, my mother is probably glad that an unmonitored kid at a college far away has not picked chemistry as her major.

So it was a salt analysis that we were doing that day, and my partner and I were trying to live up to our reputation without being kicked out of the lab. (hasn’t happened yet, but I have a hunch that the day it does, the smoke alarms will be more than the more the culprit the us…)

It was a salt that was confirmed with the 2,4-DNP test, it gave either a colour change or a precipitate, and I think it was orange… I need to do that again, don’t tell my chem teacher. All of chemistry in about 15 days, and chemistry isn’t all I study, no no no. To add to that, I’ve recently gotten addicted to James Veitch’s scam email-reply gigs, and at 3 minutes a vid, they’re the perfect length and are perfectly hilarious.
In short, no Christmas for me.
[I think I’d written this before Christmas. This is what happens when I pencil stuff down. It can take ages to put it up!]

So we were doing the DNP test, and the very existence of the DNP in our lab intrigued me. See, I’d done some research when I was bored studying chemistry.
DNPB, or the 2,4-dinitrophenyl group has been around for a while. The Germans use it as gunpowder—combustable and explosive. It fell out of use after that, though, until America rediscovered it in the 80s.
The key word here is combustion.
DNP would raise the temperatures, and an America grappling with obesity woes saw promise in that.

Soon, DNP pills had the market floored, and guess what, they did work, after all, it was only the application of a principle.
DNP caused combustion and raised metabolic rates, and so people began running through their bodily reserves much faster. DNP became the wonder pill the country had searched for for decades.
And then the overheating came to light.
Risks of death were turning out to be pretty high for DNP takers. Of course, it isn’t until you try it out for a few that results and effects actually show. So most people only say the fat-fighting wonders of the pill and made a frenzy for the pharmacist’s. The risk stats came later. One person was believed to have literally cooked to death: his body hit a whopping 43 degrees Celsius, he roasted.

Sure enough, the substance was banned. And here it was, in our chem lab.
Never mind the hot, concentrated hydrochloric acid and sulphuric acids (that we use on a regular basis and have a few lab coat holes because of), there was an explosive in our lab!

(About the HCl, don’t ask how many times people have accidentally swallowed it (in its dilute form, thankfully) while pipetting it out for titrations.
’Adventures In the Chemistry Lab’ ought to be a multi-seasonal television series in its own right. Maybe I’ll do it someday.
Season 1, Episode 1: We Are Bot Responsible For Your Death! (Though We Will Attend The Funeral). [True story. Grade 11, pracs session 1]
Episode 2: No, a Jacket Will Not Substitute For Your Lab Coat!
Episode 3: Brrring, Bbriiinng, Briiinngg… [smoke alarms]
Episode 4: Please Pass the Salt

Episode 10: …Briinng, bringg, brinnggg… No One Cares Anymore.
Season Finale: Can This Batch Pass the Prelims?

Season 2 Premier: A New Batch Arrives!
(Liner notes: Thank god, the last batch made it out… we need more salt!))

So I went around the lab educating people with droppers filled with DNP solution, of the explosive potential of DNP.
At the rate I’d hyped DNP up, I had almost expected something to happen when one drop of DNP fell into my test tube…
But it only just turned orange.
Not even a smoke alarm went off that day.

Speaking of which, our final Board practicals begin next week, complete with an external examiner; that’s when the smoke alarms will really ring!

Look Around

It’s taken me about three months to finally finish all my college applications, I repeat ALL of them, and it’s only now that I noticed this. The song ‘Look Around’ by Red Hot Chili Peppers is practically written for and about our lives around this time!

Here’s the original song for reference. I’ve written the lyrics below, along with my interpretation in brackets. What do you think?

Stiff club, it’s my nature
Custom love is the nomenclature
[‘Why  (college)?’ essays]
Turn down mass confusion
[Common App]
Hit the road cause we just keep cruisin’
[Campus tours/Moving from one rejection to another]
Double my fun, double my vision
[‘fun’ sarcastically. You work on application essays for six hours straight, are on the verge of glasses then]
Long hard look at my last decision
[Mid December/late March][Also what the colleges never do]
Hustle here, hustle there
Hustle me bitch and you best beware [Us?]
It’s emotional and I told you so
But you had to know so I told you
[Cliche essays]

Soft walk to horizon [Us in every essay]
One big crash that no one dies in
[Application process, as a whole]
This is for the folks in Fayetteville
It’ll come true if you say it will
[As you hover over the ‘Submit’ button, look at the name one last time, and with a sigh, click.][Also, us to Admissions.]

Look around, look around, look around
All around, all around, all around
Look around, look around, look around
All around, all around, all around
[What you do at the beginning of the application process when you wake up and realise you’ve been alive for 17 years and have nothing exceptional to say about yourself.
Grab that scuba gear. We’re divin’ deep.]

It’s emotional and I told you so
But you had to know so I told you

Please don’t look right through me
Hurts my heart when you do that to me
Street life out my window
City made breeze gonna stroke my skin though
Dropped a lot of words on an old brick wall
[‘Old Brick Wall = 750 ft high, made block by block, every time you sit before the blank Common App page with a writer’s block]
Rob a lot of banks got a pedigree scrawl [word bank]
Put my peg into your square
Run around like we just don’t care  [One word: Senioritis.]

Look around, look around, look around
All around, all around, all around
Look around, look around, look around
All around, Oh yeah!

Move it ah got to get ya, want to get you
Move it ah got to get ya, going to get you
Move it ah got to get ya, want to get you
Move it ah got to get ya, going to get you
Move it ah got to get ya, want to get you
Move it ah got to get ya, going to get you
Move it ah got to get ya, want to get you
Move it ah got to get ya, going to get you
[And will this thought with which you end every night end with that coveted letter, or yet another rejection?]

Look around, look around, look around
All around, all around, all around
Look around, look around, look around
All around, Oh yeah!

When I’m feeling small [125?! Can’t you give me more word room??]
And I’m hitting a wall   [I may have written about this in another essay to the same college…]
Wanna feel it all around
When I’m feeling small
And I’m hitting a wall
Wanna feel it all around [say it with me, gang–We can do this!!]

Tuxed Out

If you’d like to know how the night ended, it was with my mother laughing and saying that I “can’t even pull off a skirt right”. (I won’t argue. It’s only my third time wearing one.)

My tux plans went for a toss when, after having gotten my pants ready, mum and I realised that we don’t have the shirt and coat to go above it.
Yep, it took us a week to discover that loophole.
I don’t know whether to laugh or cringe.

So I ended up trudging along in a skirt. Figures.

Apart from that, it was as every Farewell should be—where you rediscover that you absolutely can’t dance, and that there are only a few varieties in this department: those who are bad at dancing, those who are exceptional at dancing bad, and those who can give you an illusion of a good dance. And you realise no one cares. And you realise why the stationery industry isn’t dead, when ink and thoughts flow freer than non-existent wine—yearbook signing!

Basically, awesome stuff.

(I hear laughter in the background. Is that a high-pitched Chemistry high on helium? Come on, it’s 1:30 AM!)

The Private Musings of an Excited Electron

In a few days, we have an official burden-release. Our school will formally dump us on our butts. (not really…)

We have our farewell, our final send-off, and then we grind our noses for a month and then head off on our own paths. It seems so much like a prism at play here: at school, you are a uniform beam of white light and everyone is the same, travelling down the air path, until you reach the final frontier, the glass barrier (or glass ceiling, if you’d see it that way), and cross over into a different, denser glass medium. There’s confusion, change of direction, slowing down — it’s the transition phase.

Once you reach the other face of the glass prism, you’re crossing again (the Official Dump, by the way), you’re leaving your glass cocoon, school, and stepping out into the faster, rarer air medium of the real world. Better pick up the pace.
White light passed through a prism emerges to split into its spectrum, as we all find our own wavelengths and split up into a diverse, varied, colourful spectrum and go our own separate ways. Where would this experiment be without a screen to capture the spectrum, to write the legacy for every eye to behold?

And that;s where we are right now. Still in the prism, going through our own little transitions, and at the threshold of emergence.
And yes, we are all a little refracted and deviated! (*aherm*, YouTube, *aherm*…)

One thing I’ve noticed though, is that the idea of Farewell, aka Dumping Ceremony (kidding), has somehow become interchangeable with the idea of Prom, which we don’t have.
A substitute, perhaps? It must be the formal dress code. “What are you wearing?” has become a frequently heard question — we’re turning into the Hollywood Press!
Red carpet, here we come!

Of course, if it really was Prom, I’d probably be playing Billy Idol’s Dancing With Myself all night and/or prepare to begin a charity bandage donation the next day for all the feet I’d have stepped on.
And it may sound absurd, but we’re taking a date to Farewell. Farewell! Of course, only from the leaving batch, but still, pop culture has gotten to us!
(The last farewell I remember, we’d all huddled around a hole in the terrace and channelized our ‘negative spiritual energies’ down it, and then had our teachers pray for our Board exams. You could tell from the look on their faces that the prayer was for real!
Imagine doing that with a date. And in a formal dress. Phew!)

But heck, life doesn’t need justification, and we played along. If we don’t have Prom, we’ll make it happen, I suppose!
Just for fun, I’d asked a really good friend of mine, and she said yes!
This was a few months ago, though, and I figured she’d forgotten… we all have electrons swimming in our brains these days, and I cannot explain why I overuse the word electron.

Today, after—guess what?—a physics paper, I happened to run into her and we sat down awhile and talked. Most of the school had probably emptied out; mum says I stay on till way too late, but in my defence, I won’t ever hang around a school again after a few months.
But thank goodness for the quiet moment, sometimes I cannot hear myself speak.

We began talking about Farewell-Prom, and how people were obsessing over what to wear (everything from a sari to boxers, most people had talked to me about it before). We began taking about people taking dates to farewell, no, not the edible kind.
Amidst all the hype, she asked me if I was going. I replied, probably. She told me I could hang out with her.
I remembered then that I’d asked her out. (We’re all tube lights with electrons flowing through..) She said, “Ah, yeah! Well, I’d have asked you if you hadn’t, anyway.”

That’s it. That just about made my day. Rainbows be damned, bring on the Prom. Mum’s even probably alright with me wearing a tux, which is a first (big IF I can get my hands on one in two days. I don’t own one.)

…One sec, wasn’t it a Farewell?

Sherlock’s On Holiday

“Such a thing is sleep
It never comes cheap
Always such a price
To cut you off from paradise
Roll of a dice,
A game of chance
Unto the REM stage to advance
Ah, sleep, such a dilemma is thee
The loser’s always me:
I lose sleep or chemistry/history.”

This is actually my sister’s life story. In fact, she’s asleep as I write this, after spending all morning that we were out for my design test, complaining about how we were wasting her time bringing her out with us, time she could’ve slept and then studied.
Oh well.

In other news, today’s been an eventful day. The design test I mentioned wasn’t too bad, I didn’t study for it. (I signed up for it back when I was considering taking up design, but then I had a sudden change of heart and am going for computer science. I still decided to give it, just for fun.)
On the way back, we passed a domino-accident. It was on the highway, there was a row of cars on the opposite side with both bonnets and dickeys smashed in… chain accident. One car must’ve stopped, and before the one behind it could slow down, it rammed into it’s predecessor with some force, and this continued for–guess–six cars.
I’d go with my mum’s theory for this one: when you’re living in the big, clustered cities, you’re definitely not used to speed. Take to the free, open highways,and you just do not know what to do with it. Result? Bam!
There was a ton of traffic as many folks decided to stop and look on, or worse, record the whole thing. It was as clustered as it could get! I don’t know if anybody decided to call in authorities: half a kilometer after the scene, we saw some cops in their van just gazing out, most likely blissfully unaware. They were two drive lanes away, but looking back, we probably shoulda told them… however we could.
It was sad though, because that expressway is very well known for frequent accidents, probably all avoidable. I don’t have pictures, because we decided not to stop—knowing that lane’s notoriety, my first thought was, let’s first get out of here! I’d only just seen a video of a crash in Cali when people on the road were too busy gazing up at the SpaceX launch…

We’ll probably read of it in tomorrow’s news, and in all likelihood, no one will be too surprised.

Just saw something weird. There was a man on a scooter waiting for someone, and this stray dog in our neighbourhood goes crazy. It’s usually a bit over-excited (remember this? Same dog.), but today, its tail was wagging that extra furiously, and it kept barking incessantly, not right at the man, but above and around him; everywhere.
I figured, heh, regular day in the life. It and its accomplice, a dog that seems to have once been a lot more civilised than this one, but has his friend rubbing off on him (assuming it’s a him), usually bark in harmony, a 45-minute symphony. I don’t know if they’re aware of their listening demographic, but just to be safe and modest and not sing before a very large crowd, they often perform at 2. AM.
So I figured, nothing new here.

But as soon as the woman arrived and the two left, the dogs stopped barking. That’s it. Silence. And then they started sniffing around on the ground, just where the scooter was.

I was pretty intrigued now. This was looking exactly like those movies where some fishy, suspicious-looking crook comes in to carry out his task, and a olfactorily-functioning dog would take one sniff and start barking at the goon.
This guy did nothing but sit on his bike and ignore the dogs, but what if. What just if. Where’s Sherlock?

And I have no idea why I’m doing this right now when I have an application to submit. Tonight. 7 hours to go!


Dukin’ It Out–Or Not.

Nope, there was another test today, but that’s not what this one’s about.

(To be fair, it’s not chemistry. You’d get bored!)

What this is about is the fact that I’ve had a great day.

See, I’ve been doing this college apps thing for about three months now, maybe four. And it’s a long, lonely process.
It’s all about you. Every college essay can have more or less two stars, you and the college, unless you’re writing it about someone else. Solo.
Add to that the fact that we’ve got exams going on right now. You just go to school, write a paper and come home to study in solitude for another day (or two, if you’re lucky).

So yep, it can get pretty solo. And with a million different things going on there, you might feel like you need to talk about it every once in a while.

The trouble is, days I’m at home, the only people I have to talk to are my folks. And in their opinion, I talk a lot. If I were to quote them on that, I’d have written that in bold, caps. (Alternately, I’ve been through their cycles of “You’re too quiet, you just don’t open your mouth.” There is no in-between.)

Well, I’ll agree with them on this one thing, I can go on for half an hour, and I wouldn’t have finished talking about one facet of whatever I am talking about. To be fair to me, I don’t write college essays every day! So in favour of my grades they’ve often told me to pick up that chemistry textbook and shut up for goodness’ sake. I guess it saves that one hour between 3 and 4 in the morning that I may have been tumbling around with a textbook in hand in.

Still, it gets weird not to be able to discuss a weird idea you’ve had, or something you’d want to laugh about, because I’m pretty sure if someone collected and published the first ideas/drafts people got for their application essays, it would be a bestseller in the comedy/facepalm section, only behind my surveys. (Which aren’t selling anytime soon… but are still hilarious! You can check out the craziness here, and I’ll just use this space to say that I’ll compile another one soon after my tests are done. I’ve got nearly two months’ worth of answers in that notebook, so I’m far from done yet!)

It also doesn’t help that when I am in school, there really aren’t all that many people I can talk about writing essays to without me… doing the half-hour stream of rubbish thing.

But today, I met up with one of my buddies who too is writing college essays, and we had a pretty long chat about essays. Probably filled my half-hour quota! (She’s probably reading this too, so hi!) Which is pretty much why it was a great day. It’s reason enough, if you ask me.

If any of you out there reading this are going through your essay drafts for the seventeenth time, why not hit me an email, it’d be awesome to talk!
In other news, I was standing in the balcony today when I saw this person walking down the road playing a guitar. I couldn’t tell if it was a guy or a girl, cropped black hair with the front half dyed gold. I could only think, that could totally have been me. I’ve done that. Walked down the road with a guitar slung round my neck. And also have disrupted an entire cafeteria because I was sitting there and playing my guitar. They didn’t throw me out, but no coffee either. (Fear not, though, it was acoustic! The guitar, not the nonexistent coffee.)

So yep, that’s about it for now. I’m functioning on four hours of sleep (that being from 4:20 am to 8:20, no less) so do ignore any errors!
… just realised that I can’t say that to the colleges whose essays I’m going to write after this.
But if anything weird happens on my app, you’ll hear from me again!

… Who knew college essays were a veritable gold mine?

A+, A-Rated

So I gave a Chemistry paper today.

I know. I overuse the word, don’t I?

“Chemistry” is one of the first words in my suggestions bar.

But such is life… chemistry papers have been overusing me!

But I did give a paper today, and I’m here and alive.

But the interesting thing is what I noticed today. We had two sets of papers, just like we will in the finals.
Set A and Set B.
We were asked to indicate our question paper’s set next to the subject blank.
So it looked like this:

“Subject: Chemistry (A)”

Now, if you ask me, that looks more like a movie name with the rating indicated in brackets.

So chemistry would be an A-rated movie.
And sitting there with interlocking benzenes on my desk, I thought to myself, how true is that?

I mean, it’s got everything, it’s got figures, it’s got “mild character(istic) violence” (have you been in a chemistry lab? Dropped a reactive metal in acid?), it has action, some foul language (picture: trying to talk after a mouthful of hydrogen sulphide. Rotten eggs. Ever accidentally swallowed concentrated hydrochloric acid?), it’s got nudity (ask a horrified chemistry lab teacher after half her batch left their lab coats at home); it’s a perfect fit. Lock and key. Like an enzyme- and I got carried away. Apologies.

So I chuckled a little about it, and then got to work. And got screwed, but made it out from inky hell alive.

Fun day, huh. But in the end, when the massive reactions get you down, it’s the small things that keep you going. And that’s what this was all about.

This Is All I Have Left To Say


(Masterpiece, eh?)

I was doing chemistry.

By the way, I am studying. Don’t take this for slacking. Unless I have something pretty massive to say, I’ll try to keep a low profile… just for two weeks!

It’s that time of the year again.

PS, happy new year! I know I’m the worst person to ask the date to at the moment, it took me two days to realise we’ve crossed 2017. I’m not ready for 2018. Not yet!