<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161</id><updated>2012-02-16T18:38:58.780+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Psych Rant</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>279</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7096279473194630212</id><published>2012-02-12T22:46:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2012-02-12T23:10:09.712+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Wonderwall.</title><content type='html'>I don't care how many times i repeat the same happy shit on my blog about how awesome life is. I'm still going to do it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still going to write about it, because no matter how many times, i say it, it's not enough. Right now, i feel grateful. There's exploding happyness and then there's explosing gratefulness. And i'm experiencing the latter right now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm lucky. I'm lucky to be here right now. To have parents so awesome, they TCS me badminton rackets from back home just because i told them i felt like playing Badminton the other day. To have friends back home who still make an effort to stay in touch. To have managed to find, and actually be friends with the only sane group of girls in my college. To have my khala's place to go to every weekend, to catch up with s2, and take some time off from the hostel/college atmosphere. To finally live in the same city as N so that we're able to hang out and have sleepovers at her place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, i'm grateful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have forgotten how to be happy. I don't know many happy people. I'm glad i'm happy. Helplessly happy. Like Ayn Rand says, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Its not that i don't suffer, it's that i know the unimportance of suffering.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe exactly that. You suffer, yes. But why do you have to let it take over you? To let it be more important than all the good things in life? I feel blue. I take my time. I deal with it. And then it goes away. Because i can't take sadness. I hate feeling that way. It's not how one's supposed to feel. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aah. Anyway. &lt;br /&gt;I gotta go do some work now.&lt;br /&gt;byebye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s. Wonderwall's playing in the background.&lt;br /&gt;And its raining outside.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7096279473194630212?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7096279473194630212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7096279473194630212&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7096279473194630212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7096279473194630212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2012/02/i-dont-care-how-many-times-i-repeat.html' title='Wonderwall.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1485691148387014660</id><published>2012-02-11T01:24:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2012-02-11T01:28:14.371+05:00</updated><title type='text'>February.</title><content type='html'>This is my 300th post. Clapping. Okay. Moving on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have the worst flu ever. It started as the usual 5 minute sneeze attack that i get, everytime i get out of bed or go out of the room ( i think it happens because of temperature change). But then, it got worse. And now my forehead and head and nose and everything feels heavy and watery and awful. A friend of mine's making soup for me. Knorr Chicken and Ginger. I hope its good. &lt;br /&gt;So i'll have soup, and then ima go out in search of hot water. I hope i find hot water. Boiling hot water. Scalding hot water.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*after a while*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. I had the soup. My bowl had more ginger than chicken. So r2 gave me some of her's. She had more chicken. So i had it. Then i went to take a shower with only moderatoly hot water. Sad. Had food. And now i'm in bed again. Im going to have coffee soon. Because i need to stay up to complete my Histo diagrams. I want to sleep. I want to sleep all day, and all night, and only wake up for a nice walk outside or a cozy wintery movie. But that's not happening. So. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love this time of the year. I love February. I don't want it to end. I want to hold on to it. Because after this, summers start. And tests start. And exhaustion starts. Februaryyy. Don't leave meh. Pliss? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have to complete my Anatomy sketchbook. The labelling's left. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss watching death note. &lt;br /&gt;I hate the fact that my Behavioural Sciences professor sucks. He's useless. Bummer. &lt;br /&gt;I had orange juice today. Had salt it it. Why did it have salt in it? I didn't like that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel feverish. This is a pretty whiny post. Its a comfort post. Like comfort food. But i don't have ice cream right now. I would like some Pasta however. Or noodles with sausages. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*at night*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So its 1 20 a.m. And im done with my histo diagrams. And the sketchbook. I've taken my meds. Brushed my teeth. Talked to the parents.  And now i'm in bed. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goodnight, world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1485691148387014660?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1485691148387014660/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1485691148387014660&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1485691148387014660'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1485691148387014660'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2012/02/february.html' title='February.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-3516465698491253986</id><published>2012-02-04T22:37:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2012-02-04T22:37:18.094+05:00</updated><title type='text'>A case of exploding happiness.</title><content type='html'>I don't remember the last time the weather was THIS pretty. I don't. I'm walking in the hostel grounds. There's cold wind blowing constantly. In my hair and on my face and i can't feel my hands anymore. It smells of rain. A few drops fall infrequently. There's something so infectiously fresh about this wind. I can't describe it. Im on my own. With headphones on. Hot noodles and Little women (the movie) await me in my room upstairs. I love this. I could explode. I'm just. Glad to be alive. Right now. In this moment.&lt;br /&gt;This shit is magical. &lt;br /&gt;And i can't contain it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. All that's missing is Subway's Roasted Beef sub. I could kill for one right now. &lt;br /&gt;Also, i watched When Harry met Sally last night. I liked it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-3516465698491253986?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3516465698491253986/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=3516465698491253986&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3516465698491253986'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3516465698491253986'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2012/02/case-of-exploding-happiness.html' title='A case of exploding happiness.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-5873287422717418674</id><published>2012-02-01T20:58:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2012-02-01T21:22:17.358+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Disconnected.</title><content type='html'>I hate parlors. Beauty Parlors or Salons or whatever you want to call them. I don't trust them. They always find a way to mess you up. Whatever you want them to do, they'll either overdo it or under-do it or do something that they're not supposed to do. They're hateful. Okay? Okay. Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What I actually want to talk about is how Disconnected I feel these days. &lt;em&gt;Disconnected&lt;/em&gt;. Could not have found a more appropriate word. Like today. I was sitting in the college auditorium, in that dark dingy auditorium, watching girls practice their dance for the Welcome Party. And I thought to myself. &lt;em&gt;'Wth am I doing here?&lt;/em&gt;' I'm not interested or motivated to do anything at college. Because nothing seems worth the effort. Really. It doesn't. I'm not bothered. Just not bothered. [A cat just started crying in the corridor. Loser won't shut up &gt;.&lt;]&lt;br /&gt;The problem is, I WANT to be bothered. I WANT to give a shit. I want to be involved with something that I give a shit about for a change. Something I'd actually want to take responsibility for, and work for, till i get it done. But no. Doesn't happen. Not here it doesn't. Here, shit goes on. Which I find uninteresting. And stale. And pointless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So anyway. The good thing that happened was. W came to the auditorium, while i was there. And poked me (I dozed off during the whole dance-practice-watching-thing). I told her how bored I was and how i wanted to leave and work for an NGO right away. In return, she suggested that we go out. I was like, Out where? And she said. Out. Anywhere, just Out. And my sleep went away. We got up and left college. And started walking. To nowhere really. On our way to Nowhere really, W asked me if I wanted to go visit the church nearby. I almost jumped with excitement, considering how I've always wanted to go check that church out but no one ever agreed to come with. So. We went to look for the Church. Found the church. Also found out that it only opens on Saturdays (whats up with that? =\). Took a picture of it. Found out about a tiny school for kids that's inside the same building. And came back to college just in time for the next class. I felt great. Just to have gone out. And to have acted on a whim. =] I felt better. &lt;br /&gt;So me and W have decided that we're going to go to a new place every week or two. From college. It shall be FUN. Yay. I've threatened to slit her throat if she ditches me. So. Yeah. Little things. Are awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also. I am either Overestimated or Underestimated. What is up with that? But then again, isn't everybody? Somewhat. Oo. I read this article on Cupid and Psyche. Their story. Was insteresting. Oh awesome. I have my second Behavioural Sciences class tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it. That's the only class that I actually look forward to. So it better be good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im using r1's laptop, and its running out of battery. So i better go. &lt;br /&gt;More later.&lt;br /&gt;Buhbye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-5873287422717418674?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5873287422717418674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=5873287422717418674&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5873287422717418674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5873287422717418674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2012/02/disconnected.html' title='Disconnected.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-4279835028374023015</id><published>2012-02-01T09:30:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2012-02-01T09:31:27.294+05:00</updated><title type='text'>During the lecture.</title><content type='html'>During the Embryology lecture, i'm reading something on my cellphone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W: What are you reading?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: umm. Three things. A blog, quotes of Albert Camus and a random article on Wikipedia on Psyche.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;W: Become a pigeon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-4279835028374023015?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4279835028374023015/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=4279835028374023015&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4279835028374023015'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4279835028374023015'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2012/02/during-lecture.html' title='During the lecture.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-3597606404499945671</id><published>2012-01-28T02:23:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2012-01-28T02:23:50.190+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shuffle.</title><content type='html'>I love my little post-midnight coffee trips down to the cafe with r2. We talk about random things and sip hot styrofoam coffee that burns my tongue. The cafe guy puts a lot of cream in it. I like that. R2 paid for the biscuits and the coffee. Remind me to pay her back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;January's almost up. February's already here. February is my favourite month of the year. Because its my birthmonth, and because its the last month of Winters. So i try to hold on to it. February, i.e. It's precious. This february, i'm looking forward to more than just my birthday. This february, we have sports+literary week at college, which means a relatively lighter study schedule. And the welcome party. Then there's my cousin Buck's first wedding anniversary. Cute. What else? Oo. Yes. February the 29th. Leapyear. And. Ofcourse. I get to visit home. *happy sigh*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Who likes Hajmola? I hate hajmola. Just saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the guy who plays Hemmingway in Midnight in Paris. He's hilarious in the movie. Casually epic, i'll call him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm pretty insane i've realized. Well i realized that a long time ago, but. I feel it more now. Or maybe everybody else is way too plain. I don't know. This track. Called. I love my parents. By buckethead. Kills me. It makes me sad. But i love it. I really do. I also love my cellphone. Even though it's really old and cancerous. But its loyal. So i love it. And i love its keypad. Enables me to type all of this on my phone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time last year, i was living alone. No roommates. Adjusting to college. Adjusting to hostel life. Walking four storeys up to my lonely little room a billion times a day. I miss that. Need one month of that. Please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life's twisted. Songs are evil. They bring back memories. And when you have your playlist on Shuffle mode, it rips your brain apart. Song after song. Memory after memory. Old and new. Nostalgia. Mood fluctuations. Shuffle. Evil. Remind me to do a post on what each song in my playlist reminds me of. That shall be interesting. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My phone's battery is about to die. And my throat is crying for water. And my eyes are twitchy. So i should better post this right away and prepare to sleep. Yes. Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pigeons are my new interest by the way. They're not just fat and dumb. They can see UV light and they have only 37 tastebuds. We have 9000. And if you make em a home, they'll always come back to it. Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bye world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-3597606404499945671?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3597606404499945671/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=3597606404499945671&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3597606404499945671'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3597606404499945671'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2012/01/shuffle.html' title='Shuffle.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-6293216090009278345</id><published>2012-01-19T23:18:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T23:21:36.602+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Of r2 and me.</title><content type='html'>Here's what r2 (roommate) thinks of me: &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*'you're the most ridiculous person i've ever met. You should know that'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*r2: you're such a chiiiild&lt;br /&gt;me: you're such a mom. I'm sad for you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*To r1: 'WHERE did you find this girl?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*'What are you?'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*'You look like a chinese cat'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*'Your mom called you a sensible bachi. Hahah. Why did she say that? How could she say that? I find it funny'.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*'A, you are a perfect baby'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*'A, aap aik bachi hainnn'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*'isko please koi baahar dustbin main phenk aaye'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*r2: Why is that place so messy?&lt;br /&gt;me: because three people were sitting there a while ago.&lt;br /&gt;r2: But only the place where you were sitting is messy. What does that indicate?&lt;br /&gt;me: that you're not a good mommie.&lt;br /&gt;r2: ....&lt;br /&gt;me: and you failed to clean up after your baby. :)&lt;br /&gt;r2: *goes and cleans up the mess*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*r2: Are you trying to threaten me?&lt;br /&gt;me: I'm not trying. I am threatening you.&lt;br /&gt;r2: ....&lt;br /&gt;me: ....&lt;br /&gt;r2: okay, you win.&lt;br /&gt;me: thankyou.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-6293216090009278345?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6293216090009278345/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=6293216090009278345&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6293216090009278345'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6293216090009278345'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2012/01/of-r2-and-me.html' title='Of r2 and me.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-5736387720251298902</id><published>2012-01-18T23:22:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2012-01-19T00:33:32.039+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Shrapnel.</title><content type='html'>I'm having tea, so that i can stay up and study Anatomy. I've been staring at my book for the past one hour. Zero outcome. I'm watching Amelie on my phone. I love watching movies on my phone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an amazing weekend. I spent it at N's. And it rained. Fun. Fun. Fun. Made french toast at 3 a.m and watched pulp fiction while it rained. Ate huge bags of top pops and watched Lion King 2. Bought a bag of trashy junkfood, all of which tasted like shit. Aaaah. What fun. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, i'm back at the point where I'm frustrated by how little love people have for their lives. I mean. They don't care. They don't do things for themselves. They don't think about things. They do the Typical. The Routine. The What-people-say. Its frustrating. Really is.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My hostel's cafe is finally serving coffee. And its good. So i'm glad. Also, we have coffee at college which is also good. They're both the same actually. So i finally have a cure for my sleepyness at college. I'd never go to college if it weren't for the attendance. Okay, well, maybe not never. I'd go on alternate days maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, i'm at a point where, the people closest to me are telling me that i've changed. Yes. There was the whole 'You've changed.' thing. I don't know. Well, i have. But i don't see how i could've stopped it from happening. I don't mind changing if i know that it's for the better. But i do need to settle down now. I feel floaty. Like a leaf. Rootless. Mehhh.. -.-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've finished my tea. Still haven't started studying. I'm going to regret this. I weally weally like Ryan Gosling. I watched Drive with N. There was this scene where he crushes the other guy's face. Brutal. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think what i want more than anything right now is to sit infront of the heater with my mom, and eat peanuts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love the word Shrapnel. &lt;br /&gt;And I feel lonely today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Byebye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-5736387720251298902?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5736387720251298902/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=5736387720251298902&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5736387720251298902'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5736387720251298902'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2012/01/shrapnel.html' title='Shrapnel.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-457858829795983313</id><published>2012-01-07T01:27:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2012-01-07T01:30:28.757+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Of a good day.</title><content type='html'>It rained today. Played Name/place/animal/thing/movie with friends at college. Won. Walked to the hostel in rain. Went out with friends. Had a huge chocolate toblerone cone. Took pictures. Laughed and talked till my jaws hurt. Literally. Watched Deathnote like crazy with r2. Watched a stupid movie. Drank horlicks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can smell rain in the corridor outside, and i have no test tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For now, life is good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-457858829795983313?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/457858829795983313/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=457858829795983313&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/457858829795983313'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/457858829795983313'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2012/01/of-good-day.html' title='Of a good day.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7707221164927689133</id><published>2012-01-02T00:49:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2012-01-02T00:57:09.193+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Ze Resolution.</title><content type='html'>Here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Be less lazy.&lt;br /&gt;  About myself. About everything I do, and everything that i need to do. I need to get things done. And feel that rush. The one you get after you complete a task. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Restore the Awesomeness.&lt;br /&gt; I need to be Me again, whatever/whoever that is. So this includes, figuring that out. And then becoming that person. Because lately, I don't feel like myself, at all. I'm this weird new person who is weird. I need my calm self back. I need my awesome self back. Who does not let little things get to her. Whose in control. And who is awesome. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Study hard. Party hard.&lt;br /&gt;   I need to study better. Not more, just better. Need to build my concepts, and manage time better. And when I'm not doing that, I shall have fun. I shall go out, and have fun and not have a care in the world. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Get closer to my People.&lt;br /&gt;   'nuff said.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Get thinner.&lt;br /&gt;   Not that I'm fat. But I need to shed some weight. Thin is healthy. Thin, is awesome.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Finish Atlas Shrugged before my birthday.&lt;br /&gt;   Started reading that last year. After my cousin gifted it to me on my birthday. I'm still not done with it. Needless to say, I took my time with it. But enough now. I need to finish it. By February the 25th.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Tell people I love, that I love them.&lt;br /&gt;   ..or at least, let it be known to them. Or show it to them. Somehow. I have this fear of dying without anybody knowing that i gave a shit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Be honest.&lt;br /&gt;  You can never be honest enough. So yes. The goal is to be as honest as i can be. And to try to not offend people in the process. Which is kinda hard, considering how people hate you for giving an honest opinion even though they asked for it. But, I shall try.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Donate blood.&lt;br /&gt;  I mean. Being O negative. Is. Reason. Enough. And also because I want to. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Be better at confrontations.&lt;br /&gt;  I run away from confrontations, like.. like.. *insert awesome analogy*. Yes. So i do everything in my power to avoid confrontations. Because confrontations are awkward. And I hate awkwardness. And i hate confrontations. But oh well. If i want to be anything like the person I want to be, I need to stop doing that. Or at least, sort of, maybe, try to be better at it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Religion.&lt;br /&gt;  Figure THAT out. Read about it, think about it, question it, look for answers, be confused, be satisfied. All that. And more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Wear my retainers regularly.&lt;br /&gt; This might be the hardest one of all. -_________________-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;- Be less dependent, and more dependable.&lt;br /&gt;  Need to. Desperately. Stop depending on people for things. Not stop, actually, but reduce, for sure. I'm human aren't I? So I'm going to continue taking some people for granted. But. That's about it. Nobody else. &lt;br /&gt;Oh and, I love being depended on. Heh. So yeah, that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay I think i need to stop. Cuz i feel like I could go on and on. &lt;br /&gt;I might've missed some important points, but I guess this is enough for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Toodles.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7707221164927689133?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7707221164927689133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7707221164927689133&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7707221164927689133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7707221164927689133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2012/01/ze-resolution.html' title='Ze Resolution.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-4254706667707901419</id><published>2012-01-01T19:20:00.004+05:00</published><updated>2012-01-01T20:04:23.341+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Clarity that clouds my mind.</title><content type='html'>Badly, badly need to write. &lt;br /&gt;So. First day of the new year. 2012. Wow. Okay. Since I have so much on my mind, i'll try and write everything in bullets so its easier. Here goes:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I'm back at the hostel. In my bed. Under a blanket and my favorite comforter, with a cup of Joshaanda on the side table (bad cough -.- ), and lifehouse in the background. Just took a shower, wore a new blingy sweater which is blingy but very comfortable. The roomies are sleeping. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* The roomies spent a week at my place, in my city. They had fun. I had fun too. There was constant activity at the house. We went out everyday. Watched the Pirates series all over again, and i was reminded of how awesome Johnny Depp is. We ate a lot. I met my friends. They met my friends. Had a good time. And now we're back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I start college again tomorrow. Second year. Mbbs. Hi. Going to have too much to catch up on, since i missed the first week. But, that's alright. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I think I'm going to catch a fever by tonight. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I've made New Years Resolutions, yes. I'll do a post on that after I'm done with this. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* My parents. I miss them. I miss home. I miss my family. I did not want to come back so soon. I feel homesick. I feel homesick after a long time. And I'm welcoming the feeling a bit. Even though it sucks. I wish I could spend some more time with them. Couldn't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Shit. The headache is back. What the hell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I'm irritated. Constantly. Grumpy, more like. Little things are getting to me. All i want, more than anything is to live alone for sometime. A month maybe. To clear my head. To think things through. Figure shit out. For now, I'm irritated. By everyone. And everything. Except for this. This, the writing, listening to music, and being in my blanket. With nothing to disturb me. No one to disturb me. Being on my own. This is nice. Everything else, is irritating. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I need my gloves. They're in that bag over there. Get them for me please?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I need to buy new stationery tomorrow. The thought of that makes me happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I'm lost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Byebye now. Resolution time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Edited: Okay, resolutions post later maybe. For now, I feel like someone's drilling a hole in the upper right corner of my brain. It HURTS. O.o&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-4254706667707901419?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4254706667707901419/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=4254706667707901419&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4254706667707901419'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4254706667707901419'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2012/01/clarity-that-clouds-my-mind.html' title='Clarity that clouds my mind.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-3708135519106477355</id><published>2011-12-20T23:02:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-12-20T23:02:06.076+05:00</updated><title type='text'>This is home.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;This is what I call home. This. Being in my room. My red room. My little red room. With my little white heater. Listening to a weird instrumental that I don't know the name of. Sipping hot coffee. Using my own computer. Typing on my own keyboard. With half frozen hands. Wearing mismatched purple socks. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;This. Is. Home.&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-48znS27Wp0E/TvDNcNoQq8I/AAAAAAAAAW0/LR_WI-gnzdg/s1600-h/room%25255B9%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: right; margin-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="" border="0" alt="" align="right" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AmHU7m4tbFA/TvDNgBPZCpI/AAAAAAAAAW8/N7l1zVfT6H4/room_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="206"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Having my camera with me again. Watching Midnight in Paris with s1 at night. Discussing random nothings with the parents over Kashmiri Chai. Reading my novel, and falling asleep on the floor. With a huge comforter over me, which is the perfect wintery shade of blue. Waking up randomly at 6 a.m and taking a hot shower. Using s1's weird nicely scented products. And falling back to sleep. In the blue comforter. On the floor.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;This. Is. Home.&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Being lectured by dad for not being interested in cooking. Or shopping.&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-NXk1G-bXZgQ/TvDNjOZWuVI/AAAAAAAAAXE/fWiaMX_Crs4/s1600-h/coffee%25255B4%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: right; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="" border="0" alt="" align="right" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-a5RzUXJAAPo/TvDNmNb1dOI/AAAAAAAAAXM/2wz-x2RGiYA/coffee_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180"&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Being pampered by mom. Getting breakfast in bed. Huge burgers and fries. Annoying s1 out of her mind. Laughing idiotically for hours with s2. Going out with friends. Every. Other. Day. Being idiots. Me taking pictures of every little thing. The cups, the speakers, the walls. &lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;Home. &lt;br&gt;(:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-3708135519106477355?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3708135519106477355/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=3708135519106477355&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3708135519106477355'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3708135519106477355'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/12/this-is-home.html' title='This is home.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-AmHU7m4tbFA/TvDNgBPZCpI/AAAAAAAAAW8/N7l1zVfT6H4/s72-c/room_thumb%25255B3%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1158504719685114962</id><published>2011-12-18T22:04:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-12-18T22:21:48.671+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Free atlast.</title><content type='html'>Its weird that I haven't eaten anything all day, except for a stupid little bun with chicken spread that the Daewoo people put in their weird little lunchbox. Thats it. And I don't feel like eating. Mom's gonna come home, and kill me if she finds out. Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I find a weird kind of similarity between Steve Jobs and Maynard James Keenan. No reason. I just associate them with each other. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I cannot believe that my profs are over. They're over. Im free. And I have no exams till late next year. Ofcourse I'll have huge tests happening every other day, but i can take anything other than Profs. Profs. Are. Too. Much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imma start watching movies again. And finally finish Atlas Shrugged.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For some reason, my friends from home were super excited about me coming back. I don't know why. But it made me feel nice. And warm. It pleasantly confuses me. When they do that. Im going to meet them soon. Can't wait. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The roomies are coming over to my place. To my city. For a week. That shall be interesting. A little unsure about inviting them to my Life. But oh well. We shall see. My mom's going to make all of us really fat. With all her food. Fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That shall be all for now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1158504719685114962?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1158504719685114962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1158504719685114962&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1158504719685114962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1158504719685114962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/12/free-atlast.html' title='Free atlast.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-258242180421231057</id><published>2011-12-15T19:24:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T19:25:05.382+05:00</updated><title type='text'>s1 has a blog!</title><content type='html'>So hi. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S1 has a blog now. About time she started balogging. *rollseyes*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soooo, yeah. Check it out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;dreampraylove.blogspot.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kthanksbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(for weird people who don't know who s1 is, she's my sister. 3 years older.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-258242180421231057?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/258242180421231057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=258242180421231057&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/258242180421231057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/258242180421231057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/12/s1-has-blog.html' title='s1 has a blog!'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-2249574736019769858</id><published>2011-12-11T15:48:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-12-11T15:51:47.290+05:00</updated><title type='text'>From the study room.</title><content type='html'>So i'm sitting here in the study room, listening to music that I like, and talking to s1 on whatsapp. I just finished a packet of Nimko and cocomo. My back's about to freeze and my legs are already frozen. I need to pause this song. The lyrics are distracting. Yes. So, students have started coming to the study room. It was empty when i first walked in. Empty was nice. I hope nobody comes and sits next to me. I need my space. It was this want for my own space that made me come here in the first place. So yes, i'll be very annoyed if a random girl decides to sit in the cabin/desk thingy next to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are certain recurring themes in my dreams. Like. My old school. Babies. Car accidents. What's up with that? I had a dream the other day. The other night*.  Russian voodoo was involved. Hah. Weird. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My blog's been super dry lately. Just like my throat is, every morning. That dry. So sad. It used to be this cozy happy place. It was peaceful. Now its all. Weird. Because i blog from my phone now. Back at home, i took retarded pictures of useless things. And i posted them here. I don't even have my camera here. I miss it. I miss home. But it doesn't make me sad. Its a constant feeling, somewhere at the back of my head. Doesn't bother me at all.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm tired of being in the room. Tired of the blue and purpleness of it. Tired of the three beds. Tired of the cozy blankets. Tired of being out of clean spoons all the time. Tired of being around people. Im just tired. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm gonna go to the room, and get myself a shawl. And my wallet. Then i'll buy a cup of tea. And then. Biochemistry. Hectic days ahead. Still. Seventeenth. December. Is it EVER going to come? I don't think so. Maybe never.  A cat's making weird noises. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So i did go and get myself a shawl. And tea. And a chocolate muffin that tasted like mattress. The cafe here has no coffee. So i asked the guy. Y u no coffee? Apparently, they only serve coffee once its foggy all around. Great. My phone's battery is almost dead. So i shall go now.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Dependency. I hate it. Scares the shit out of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Goo'bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-2249574736019769858?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2249574736019769858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=2249574736019769858&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2249574736019769858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2249574736019769858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/12/from-study-room.html' title='From the study room.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1358666307031754176</id><published>2011-12-11T12:02:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-12-11T12:05:22.304+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that are heavenly.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x3StL-rhnTg/TuRWBzNq6II/AAAAAAAAAWg/0I-5iX0xjb0/s1600/111220111692.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x3StL-rhnTg/TuRWBzNq6II/AAAAAAAAAWg/0I-5iX0xjb0/s320/111220111692.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5684763218575812738" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1358666307031754176?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1358666307031754176/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1358666307031754176&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1358666307031754176'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1358666307031754176'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/12/things-that-are-heavenly.html' title='Things that are heavenly.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x3StL-rhnTg/TuRWBzNq6II/AAAAAAAAAWg/0I-5iX0xjb0/s72-c/111220111692.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1799623419140838622</id><published>2011-12-02T21:16:00.004+05:00</published><updated>2011-12-02T21:30:20.251+05:00</updated><title type='text'>&gt;:|</title><content type='html'>Unfinished notes on my cellphone are increasing in number as days go by. I write, i save, and i never open it again. Maybe I'; publish all that later, one day, when I have nothing else to write. Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;What an ugly emoticon. In the title. Yuck.&lt;br /&gt;So. Its 9:17 p.m. Im at the hostel. No one's in the room right now. Which is a blessing really. Because blogging is always fun when no ones around. We've ordered Shawarma. Then I'll have gol gappay and then Coffee. And I'm not even hungry. But. Im going to eat all that in an attempt at uplifting my mood. Because my mood sucks. And there aren't many things i hate more than feeling sucky. I hate this feeling. I like being happy. I hate being sad. Its as simple as that. &lt;br /&gt;I need something to uplift my mood. I could watch a movie, or go out for a walk, or do whatever, but I know nothing's going to work unless I deal with all the teeny tiny little thready issues that I have on my mind. I also know that I can't deal with all that right now. Not today. Because it's sort of not in my hand. I hate feeling helpless. And useless. And eww. What a stupid feeling. I hate how i sound chirpy even when i feel sucky. &lt;br /&gt;Okay the food is here. r2's going to get a movie. I asked her to get ANY movie I could watch anything right now. Hostel people have sucky movies. Losers.&lt;br /&gt;Bye. -.-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mr.Cuddles looks adorable today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1799623419140838622?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1799623419140838622/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1799623419140838622&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1799623419140838622'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1799623419140838622'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/12/blog-post.html' title='&gt;:|'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7027221423668420370</id><published>2011-11-26T00:04:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-11-26T00:04:39.755+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lucky.</title><content type='html'>I feel lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my second Prof today. Went alright. The first one sucked. Not even sure if i'll pass. But, whatever. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel lucky. Because i've realized how pampered I am. Infact, i am a little amazed at just how nice everybody is to me, generally. My family loves me. I  whine infront of my sisters 24/7, i mean, literally 24/7  about my exams, and they put up with it. I ask N to talk to me continuously, and she does. My mom, prays for me relentlessly, and dad keeps a check on everything in his own discreetly cute way. My cousin Nd keeps a check on me too and gives me mini-brainwashing-lectures from time to time. And promises me to give me his new Galaxy s2, incase i fail. My friends ask me about my exams regularly. And then i have the Roomies. They're good people. They pamper me because they know how retarded, clumsy and lazy I am. They find me funny. And they miss me when im not there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also have an amazing rooftop here at the hostel, where i can sit for hours by myself and marvel at the awesomeness of the sky. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What more can I ask for?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7027221423668420370?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7027221423668420370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7027221423668420370&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7027221423668420370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7027221423668420370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/11/lucky.html' title='Lucky.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-2764870904938672604</id><published>2011-11-20T22:10:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T22:17:47.342+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mood flucktuations.</title><content type='html'>At times nothing helps.&lt;br /&gt; So i just go outside, listen to Coldplay, walk under the street light thing, marvel at how pretty everything is, smile to myself, and come back inside. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It helps.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, i present to you, my exam playlist:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Paradise - coldplay.&lt;br /&gt;(whattay mood lifter. Its so ME.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You can't save me - Richie Kotzen&lt;br /&gt;(a friend posted it on facebook recently. I liked it. And downloaded it.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soothsayer - Buckethead&lt;br /&gt;(as good as a cup of coffee most of the times)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;November Rain - Guns and Roses.&lt;br /&gt;(because its long and awesome)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ghost host - Buckethead &lt;br /&gt;(gooood study music. Keeps me focused)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Blue Jeans - Lana del ray&lt;br /&gt;(heard it on my online french radio. It has a funny feeling to it. Perfect walking music.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Saari raat jaaga - Noori&lt;br /&gt;(For when i take a break just to listen to a song)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..and that is about it for now. Except last night i couldn't sleep. So i turned on a random comedy channel on my online radio. Ellen degeneres made some lame jokes and i fell asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s. Yes, i said fluck-tuations. What are you staring at?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-2764870904938672604?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2764870904938672604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=2764870904938672604&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2764870904938672604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2764870904938672604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/11/mood-flucktuations.html' title='Mood flucktuations.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-3163439713360832792</id><published>2011-11-19T08:14:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-11-19T08:49:14.515+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Deathby proffs.</title><content type='html'>Weird day yesterday. Woke up early. Walked to college. Attended a one-hour lecture. Of sorts. Bought some stationery. Bought barbican. Bought Nestle juices. Hostel. Slept. Woke up. Studied. Studied. Slept. Woke up. Studied. Started panicking. Texted N. Talked about stupid stuff with N. Talked to s2. For two minutes. Talked to mom. Assured her that my prep was fine. Tried to study. Couldn't. Panicked more. Texted people. Felt worse. Had a craving for biscuits and tea. Went out to get biscuits. Got biscuits. Made tea. Had it. With biscuits. Took a break. Watched random movie trailers on my phone. Tried to study. Couldn't. Felt awful. Went to sleep. Woke up. Drank barbican. Studied a little. And panicked again. Wasted hours doing nothing. Felt shitty. Tried studying. Studied a little. Wrote a long note on my phone. Ranted, really. Erased it. Tried studying again. Ended up missing mom and dad. Went to sleep. Kept waking up every fifteen minutes. Had a billion dreams. Of fire and rain, and fire again. Of hell.. in my drawing room. Of a ship. And of a girl i don't even know. Woke up finally an hour ago. Around 7 a.m. Took a heavenly shower. Now here i am. Sleepy as hell. Studying again. Feeling shitty. Will do anything for a good cup of coffee.&lt;br /&gt; Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Exams have a way of bringing me down.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-3163439713360832792?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3163439713360832792/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=3163439713360832792&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3163439713360832792'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3163439713360832792'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/11/deathby-proffs.html' title='Deathby proffs.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-5596566400754538286</id><published>2011-11-14T02:38:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-11-14T03:10:37.262+05:00</updated><title type='text'>s1 hates me.</title><content type='html'>While s1 was studying..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: s1!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s1: the hepatic parenchyme is organized into cribiform anastomosing sheets or plates..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: s1. Im scaredddd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s1: ..of hepatocytes seen in microscopic sections as cords of cells..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: s1! I cant studyyy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S1: hepatocytes immediately abutting the portal tract are..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: s1! Meray nakhray bardaasht karo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s1: rederred to as a limiting plate forming a discontinuous rim around the mesenchyme...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: meray nakhray bardaasht karo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s1: of the portal tract. There is a radial..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: meray nakhray bardaasht kao!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s1: Shut up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: ...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-5596566400754538286?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5596566400754538286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=5596566400754538286&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5596566400754538286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5596566400754538286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/11/while-s1-was-studying.html' title='s1 hates me.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-5414414455683831953</id><published>2011-11-08T01:23:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-11-08T01:23:40.155+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiny Eid post.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So. Eid. We didn’t go to our relatives this time. I was super bummed. But then. We did our own little BBQ d&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-xSyhmJWQ8Qs/Trg-Rerl2qI/AAAAAAAAAWM/_ne_NsaZxHU/s1600-h/bbq%25255B4%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: right; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="" border="0" alt="" align="right" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hPIt1lBaWD4/Trg-Sh7NcWI/AAAAAAAAAWU/J5_PuPaYeHA/bbq_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="150" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;inner at home. Just us. And it was amazing. And I ate a lot. And had custard later. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;So yeah. I'm happy. &lt;/p&gt;            &lt;p&gt;My proffs start in about two weeks. The panic shall kick in soon. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-5414414455683831953?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5414414455683831953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=5414414455683831953&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5414414455683831953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5414414455683831953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/11/tiny-eid-post.html' title='Tiny Eid post.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-hPIt1lBaWD4/Trg-Sh7NcWI/AAAAAAAAAWU/J5_PuPaYeHA/s72-c/bbq_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-8413078050671409977</id><published>2011-11-05T18:26:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-11-05T18:39:25.836+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chen.</title><content type='html'>The last two weeks have been great. Stayed at Khala's last week. Now I'm home for Eid. Im going to miss it. Its hostel again after this. But that's fine too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My roommates have decided to call me Chen from now on. They think i look Chinese. Ahan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Watched In Time yesterday. Refreshing idea. Not well executed but. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hate how people say things they don't mean. Confuses me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is all for today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-8413078050671409977?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8413078050671409977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=8413078050671409977&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8413078050671409977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8413078050671409977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/11/chen.html' title='Chen.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-355392542399466595</id><published>2011-10-27T03:52:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2011-10-27T04:11:13.325+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Snippets - 3</title><content type='html'>[next day]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its 4 a.m. Haven't written anything all day. Last night and the&lt;br /&gt;morning after, were super weird. Got over the temporary insanity by evening.&lt;br /&gt;ThankGod. Came to the hostel. Caught up with the roomies. Talked about&lt;br /&gt;all kinds of stuff. They assigned each of us duties while i was gone. I'm the&lt;br /&gt;dish washer, apparently. Which is fine actually. Because room cleaning&lt;br /&gt;is not my thing anyway. I finally did some studying today. Felt good.&lt;br /&gt;Had two cups of coffee, and Hello headache. =] Have to wake r2 for Fajr&lt;br /&gt;in a while. Better get my chapter done before that.&lt;br /&gt;More later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6:49 pm:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lying in my bed. Just finished eating a not-so-yummy shawarma. Watched&lt;br /&gt;Grey's with it. Me and the roomies went out to get food supplies.&lt;br /&gt;Walked. Its weird how none of the stores had a k&amp;n freezer. Not cool.&lt;br /&gt;I'm wearing socks today. I shall sleep now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9 pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my roomates decided to not let me sleep. Sprayed water all over me.&lt;br /&gt;Revenge. Is. Due.&lt;br /&gt;So i got up and had coffee and did some Physio instead. About to go&lt;br /&gt;out for a walk with r2. Gotta get naans for dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;01:12.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just came back from an hour long walk. Love my hostel for this. Love&lt;br /&gt;being able to walk outside, anytime of the day, or night. But shit, I'm&lt;br /&gt;tired now. Parhay ga kaun?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;01: 38&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel weird. I don't know what i feel right now. Doing nothing, makes&lt;br /&gt;me think weird. But I'm so sleepy, i don't feel like studying. And i'm&lt;br /&gt;afraid that if i sleep now, im going to wake up really late. But i&lt;br /&gt;feel weird. And i don't know what one should do when one feels like&lt;br /&gt;this. Im going to sleep. And that's what one should do. I plan on&lt;br /&gt;waking up at Fajr.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[next day]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10:25&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..yeaah. So one woke up at Fajr. Just had breakfast. Cheese sandwich +&lt;br /&gt;tea. I'm so cold. A cat just tried to come inside the room. I shoo-ed&lt;br /&gt;it away. Next time I'm spraying water on it. This morning, i feel&lt;br /&gt;alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11.04&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;suzaaaanna, suzaaaanna, suzaaaanna, im crazy lovin youuuu.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;16:20&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: *&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;shudders&lt;/span&gt;* eeee its so cold!&lt;br /&gt;r2: *laughs*&lt;br /&gt;me: what?&lt;br /&gt;r2: you remind me of of that cartoon character.&lt;br /&gt;me: which one?&lt;br /&gt;r2: all cartoon characters.&lt;br /&gt;Me: ....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[next day]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15: 39&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night was fun. I went out for a walk. Everybody was asleep.&lt;br /&gt;Came back and slept.&lt;br /&gt;Talked to N on skype. Had barbican. Felt amazingly fresh. The roomates were&lt;br /&gt;sleeping so it was a video call without the audio. Told her about a&lt;br /&gt;stupid thing that happened earlier that day and laughed like an idiot&lt;br /&gt;for the next ten minutes. &lt;br /&gt;Slept at 5.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;17:02&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahah. A cat mutilated r2's shoe with its claws. Its ruined. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;22:25&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Been lazy all day. Finally got out of the blanket. Took a shower.&lt;br /&gt;Had coffee. Then an ice cream. And roamed around the hostel with the&lt;br /&gt;roomates. Refreshing. Studying, now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;00:43&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YAY. R2 loved my watch. Finally. Someone other than me and N&lt;br /&gt;appreciates it. R1 made a nice cheese-omelet-pita-bread thingy for&lt;br /&gt;dinner.&lt;br /&gt;It was nice. I need. Coffee. Now. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;02:33&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm in love with my life right now. Doesn't mean that everything's&lt;br /&gt;perfect. Doesn't mean that im super happy and doesnt mean that i dont&lt;br /&gt;have issues. I love life because everythings &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; perfect, because I'm &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;not&lt;/span&gt; always happy, and I &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;do&lt;/span&gt; have issues. Life's twisted. And that&lt;br /&gt;is why i like it. :]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-355392542399466595?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/355392542399466595/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=355392542399466595&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/355392542399466595'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/355392542399466595'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/10/snippets-3.html' title='Snippets - 3'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-4733774610800414141</id><published>2011-10-24T23:39:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T23:50:47.216+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Snippets- 2</title><content type='html'>So last night wasn't really productive. I slept a lot. And woke up&lt;br /&gt;late feeling pathetic. Hide and Seek by Imogen heap is one of my all&lt;br /&gt;time favorite songs. I'm sleepy. Maybe i should sleep for sometime&lt;br /&gt;before i start studying. Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm up. Watching the last samurai all over again. Cruise looks good.&lt;br /&gt;And the kids in the movie are way too cute. I want to borrow one. But&lt;br /&gt;anyway, loving the movie. Been too long since i last saw it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have realized that i hate Wanted. The movie. Fraternity of&lt;br /&gt;assassins. Pfft.  Watching the Young Frankenstein on TV. I'm not&lt;br /&gt;interested. Re-animation of dead tissue he calls it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm hungry. Khala offered me Mcdonalds. But Im not s2, and i don't say&lt;br /&gt;yes to mcdonalds everytime someone mentions it. So i refused. I want&lt;br /&gt;to eat something else. I don't know what though. Bleh. I don't feel&lt;br /&gt;too good right now. Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like studying with just the lamp on. Helps me focus. I've lost all&lt;br /&gt;my focus lately. I need it back. I wonder who stole it. Maybe you did.&lt;br /&gt;Did you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lamp. The scarecrow. A.c. Texting with N and Coffee. I finally have&lt;br /&gt;the perfect environment for studying. Notochord, here i come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Rise to fame, time has come. Make your claim, time has come for the  &lt;br /&gt;crow to fly away!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-4733774610800414141?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4733774610800414141/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=4733774610800414141&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4733774610800414141'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4733774610800414141'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/10/snippets-2.html' title='Snippets- 2'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1910495862169625208</id><published>2011-10-24T12:57:00.004+05:00</published><updated>2011-10-24T13:04:11.715+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Snippets - 1</title><content type='html'>I've started writing random nothings about my day on my cellphone lately. I'm going to start pasting it in parts now. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;19th. Oct. 2011.&lt;br /&gt;Going back to Lahore on Friday. One day to go.&lt;br /&gt;Stupid, stuuupid day today. Bad BAD mood.&lt;br /&gt;But i just had a laughing fit, while talking to N right now. Just got&lt;br /&gt;off the phone.&lt;br /&gt;Im desperately looking forward to meet her again. So that we can have&lt;br /&gt;the Supersonic superfudge sundae again. And watch Family Guy and go&lt;br /&gt;nuts. :]&lt;br /&gt;Warid hates me. I hate him too. Yes, i just called Warid a him.&lt;br /&gt;That is all for now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;[next day]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way to Lahore. Lazy lazy journey. The nice old lady sitting next&lt;br /&gt;to me, insists on talking. She said '&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;beta, dar dar ke jaayain&lt;/span&gt;'. No&lt;br /&gt;idea what that meant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, she just told me a story about her daughter in law's brother's&lt;br /&gt;future wife. :) And now she won't stop talking. Halp meh! I'm going to&lt;br /&gt;pretend to fall asleep.&lt;br /&gt;Amazing. She changed her seat. And is now chatting away with the woman&lt;br /&gt;in the front seat. Yay me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear baby in the backseat. STOP crying, you! &gt;.&lt; Everybody knows&lt;br /&gt;you're faking it. I don't see no tears.&lt;br /&gt;So..Stop..making..my..ears..bleed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reached Lahore. About to fall asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up. No one's at home. Haven't eaten anything all day. Went to the&lt;br /&gt;kitchen. Had a pear. It was small. I'm dreading studying Embryo. But i&lt;br /&gt;should try and start. I want a chocolate. Which reminds me, i had two&lt;br /&gt;chocolate muffins in my dream. And won a $71million lottery. Great.&lt;br /&gt;Okay enough. I'm changing into my comfort clothes, and starting&lt;br /&gt;studying. Wish me luck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nd gave me an overview of embryo. He had these awesome simulations&lt;br /&gt;that were helpful. Now i have to study it on my own. But why is it&lt;br /&gt;that every time he teaches me, i feel dumb? Too dumb. Way too dumb. It&lt;br /&gt;sucks. Imma call N in some time. I'll make coffee too. I love the new&lt;br /&gt;Cheetos. The ultra spicy ones. I played with Nd's new Galaxy s2&lt;br /&gt;whatever. Used the Swype thingy. It was fun. Okaybye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..............&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;[Later that night]&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Studied a leetal. Made coffee. Talked to N for two hours. Watched&lt;br /&gt;masterchef and Castle during the phone call. Now my head hurts, and&lt;br /&gt;the embryo book looks intimidating. Btw, Terranova is the suckiest&lt;br /&gt;show ever. I haven't ever seen it. Not planning on watching it either.&lt;br /&gt;Heh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;...........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More later.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1910495862169625208?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1910495862169625208/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1910495862169625208&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1910495862169625208'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1910495862169625208'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/10/snippets-1.html' title='Snippets - 1'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7443372677182220729</id><published>2011-10-18T20:14:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T20:15:07.573+05:00</updated><title type='text'>s2 is a spoilt brat.</title><content type='html'>s2: omG. I feel like having fish. I'm gonna ask dad to bring it for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: We dined out just yesterday. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: so?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: So..its not necessary to dine out everyday. We'll have fish some other time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: Shush. Imma call dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: -.-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*she calls dad. Dad agrees*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: See? He didn't have a problem, you did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: Whatever, you suck.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: Man, your kid's are gonna suffer so much. I feel sorry for them already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: ..And your husband will shoot himself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7443372677182220729?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7443372677182220729/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7443372677182220729&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7443372677182220729'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7443372677182220729'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/10/s2-is-spoilt-brat.html' title='s2 is a spoilt brat.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-3127652689043294523</id><published>2011-10-18T01:05:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T01:09:26.800+05:00</updated><title type='text'>No name face.</title><content type='html'>Today, was a goood day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Woke up, got yelled at by mom for not studying at all. Studied half a page. Went to an Arts festival with s1. Which sucked. A couple of paintings were nice though. Met a friend. Went to have food. Because i was super hungry. Had fuuuun. Laughed. Randomly decided to accompany s1 to her Maternity ward duty. Got tired. Came back at night. Had some tea. Talked to some friends. And that is all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, on a side note, if you're the kind of person, who says 'Ghajni!' everytime someone talks about memory loss or worse, short-term memory loss, i hate you. I also hate you if you say 'Dostana!' everytime someone talks about homosexuality. Okay? Okay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, and I suck at cheering people up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Buh-bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[me to s1: Please koi title batao post ka.&lt;br /&gt;s1: Shhh.&lt;br /&gt;me: Please.&lt;br /&gt;s1: Shhh.me: Please na. Kuch bhi boldo. Just say something.&lt;br /&gt;s1: No name face.&lt;br /&gt;me: Thats a song.&lt;br /&gt;s1: Its an album.&lt;br /&gt;me: Okay.]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-3127652689043294523?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3127652689043294523/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=3127652689043294523&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3127652689043294523'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3127652689043294523'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/10/no-name-face.html' title='No name face.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-8757846136928709367</id><published>2011-10-15T22:43:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-10-15T22:43:10.080+05:00</updated><title type='text'>P.s. I’m happy.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I found a new place to sit on my terrace. It’s a brick. And its very comfortable.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I made goood coffee today. Drank it while sitting on the brick.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Went out for lunch. With friends. Fun. As always. They make me happy. They hated my watch, but that’s okay. Going to meet them again on Monday. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Had 4 dreams last night. Same-ish theme, different stories.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I look nice today.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I read about Endorphins today. I always knew what they were, but what I didn’t know was that the word itself comes from ‘endogenous morphine’. Nice, no?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I found a new happy song for myself today.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Just now:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s1: Parhti kyun nai ho?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;me: Pata nai.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s1: Batao! Parhna nahi hai?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;me: Pata nai.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s1: Exams kab hain tumharay?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;me: Pata nai.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s1: Abhi tak nai pata chala?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;me: Pata nai.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s1: *stares at me*&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;me: *stares back* What?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s1: Batao!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;me: Kia? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s1: Choti bachii! Parho tum.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;me: ahan.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s1: UFFFF!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s1: Book laao apni tum. Kuch nai aata tumhe. Kyun nai samajhti ye baat tum?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;me: pata nai.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;…&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Annoying s1 is fun.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I took two pictures, while studying. Have ay look.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-yOtWlBiub3Q/TpnGHxwP2FI/AAAAAAAAAVc/siweFtZCWuQ/s1600-h/DSC05507%25255B4%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="DSC05507" border="0" alt="DSC05507" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XEDWkafsoAY/TpnGIvHDRiI/AAAAAAAAAVk/mNYi-YDL-OI/DSC05507_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Please don’t kill me if I have uploaded this picture before, because I'm getting the feeling that I might have.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-xi3U3Opvd-w/TpnGKrZ1V7I/AAAAAAAAAVs/BpL2MdcCqhg/s1600-h/DSC05501%25255B4%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="DSC05501" border="0" alt="DSC05501" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-aOyJFlG7P3w/TpnGLHbZwcI/AAAAAAAAAV0/4OOGz6pDI_Q/DSC05501_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Oh and you know what will make me happy? If Noah Wyle plays Steve Jobs in the new Steve Jobs movie. Which reminds me, I need to watch Pirates of the Silicon Valley again. Yessir, I do. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Okay byebye. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-8757846136928709367?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8757846136928709367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=8757846136928709367&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8757846136928709367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8757846136928709367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/10/ps-im-happy.html' title='P.s. I’m happy.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh3.ggpht.com/-XEDWkafsoAY/TpnGIvHDRiI/AAAAAAAAAVk/mNYi-YDL-OI/s72-c/DSC05507_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-2680285359136895753</id><published>2011-10-14T13:41:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-10-14T15:23:19.211+05:00</updated><title type='text'>iDream.</title><content type='html'>I had another series of weird dreams last night. &lt;br /&gt; So here's what i remember.&lt;br /&gt; Im sitting in my hostel room with my roommates when these men come, who're supposed to teach us some experiment about how animals respond to pain. A guy brings up a cute little kitten and starts torturing it. The kitten starts to cry, and the guy keeps showing us its tears. 'See? See? It responded to pain', the guy says. Then he brings this bigger animal, which kinda looks like a cat but isn't really one. He makes a vertical cut in its head, about 2 inches. Blood oozes out. But the animal feels nothing. And then i go 'Hmm..Whattay cute creature'. The guy's like 'You think so?' , and then makes the animal open its mouth. Its mouth, apparently is huge, and has a built-in..wait for it... purple octopus. Weird octopussy arms keep coming out of its mouth, which is when the guy warns us to not let it sting us, because then we'd get '&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Opsis Heamosis&lt;/span&gt;'. No idea what that is. &lt;br /&gt;That was pretty much it. Except there were other random scenes.&lt;br /&gt; One was where im stuck in traffic. Traffic consists of a large number of carraiges. Driven, not by horses, but camels. They're supposed to take everybody to the examination hall.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then there was one, with my cousins dancing on a new bollywood song. And one where my new watch stopped working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then one, where my friend N calls me up to tell me that i forgot Malone at her palace. And Malone, apparently, was my air-conditioner. &lt;br /&gt;..yeeah.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-2680285359136895753?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2680285359136895753/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=2680285359136895753&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2680285359136895753'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2680285359136895753'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/10/idream.html' title='iDream.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-15350033007050055</id><published>2011-10-13T19:49:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-10-13T19:51:33.165+05:00</updated><title type='text'>I want a moon.</title><content type='html'>Sat for an hour on the terrace. Watched the moon play hide and seek with the evil black clouds. Wanted to steal that glowy white ball of perfection and keep it in my pocket. Got bit by a dozen mosquitoes.&lt;br /&gt;..Totally worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-15350033007050055?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/15350033007050055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=15350033007050055&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/15350033007050055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/15350033007050055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-want-moon.html' title='I want a moon.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-333938967040885696</id><published>2011-10-11T22:32:00.004+05:00</published><updated>2011-10-11T23:20:22.678+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Long post iz happin.</title><content type='html'>Too much lazyness. Too many donuts. And popcorns and movies. And sleeping even when I'm not sleepy. Tomorrow's the 13th. I need to start studying again. That's the problem with being at home though. I get so relaxed, i get so caught up in being &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;at home&lt;/span&gt;, that studies don't really feel like a priority. It's one of the reasons I keep insisting my parents to let me go back to the hostel soon and get my studies done. Properly. But i'm here for at least a week more. So I'll have to make a routine for myself. A schedule, or whatever. Schedules suck, btw. Because I hardly ever follow them. But they're important, in a way, cuz they give me perspective. So yeah, I'll make one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mind actually, is pretty...preoccupied. There's no place for Biochem tonight. At all. Which is why, i thought watching movies one after another would be a good idea. I also got some reading done. And some sleeping. And I spent time with Mother. I had time to read blogs too. But then halfway through the movie, I thought I'd go get fresh. Take a shower. And I did. And I've decided that I need to take a walk. On the terrace. With coffee. Suprisingly, I feel like having Juice instead. Cold juice. Pineapple or Orange. Nestle's bitter orange. Not the normal orange. I feel like having that. But we're out of juice, so I'll have coffee instead. On the terrace. With songs. Happy songs. I need endorphins. And after that, I'll give Biochem a shot. The purpose of which, will be just to get me in the mood for studying. Because its okay if i don't get any studying done tonight, but I definitely have to start tomorrow. And if im not in the mood by tonight, I'm going to end up wasting the entire day tomorrow too. Which can't happen. So yeah. Biochem. Tonight. Hopefully.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a realy weird dream last night. Well. One of many. I was sitting in my my Biochem Lab. No actually, it was my Physio Lab, and I was having my Final Biochem Practical. And there were two questions on it. I forgot one. But the other was about How to &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Ceramicize&lt;/span&gt; [cover in ceramic, apparently :s ] an Alligator. And I just stared at the sheet, and was like. Shit, I've studied this. Why can't I remember it. And then, all i wrote my answer sheet was this:&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Apparatus: Syringe, NaCO3, Distilled water..&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;Thats it. And I was freaking out. &lt;br /&gt;And then there was this other dream, where we're having a wedding of sorts, at our house. And my mom comes and tells me how everybody kept saying good things about me to her, and how they loved what i was wearing that day. And i asked her '&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Oh they were? Like who?&lt;/span&gt;'. And mom says. "&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Lady Gaga&lt;/span&gt;". &lt;br /&gt;Yeah. Ahan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay awesome. Xmen-First Class just finished downloading. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think Tim Burton ruined Charlie and the Chocolate factory, and Alice in Wonderland too. Why couldn't he just stick to the books? But No, that way, he couldn't show off his imagination could he? Has anyone seen the Oompas Loompas? I mean. They're frikkin UGLY. &gt;.&lt; And they dance weird. Urgh. Okay. Deep breath. Whatever. Isn't it weird that everytime i sit to write a blogpost, my dad calls me and asks for coffee? So i do need to go and make him coffee. And make some for me too. And then go walk on the terrace. And clear my head hopefully. &lt;br /&gt;I did not want this post to end so soon. But. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;Im glad I wrote something at least. I've been writing shit and doing the whole [Ctrl+A +  Backspace] thing a lot lately. So. Yeah. Achievement.&lt;br /&gt;Im hoping to write more and more and more in this place in the upcoming days. I need to.&lt;br /&gt;Yeah. Okay. Bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The north is to south what the clock is to time.&lt;br /&gt;There's east and there's west and there everywhere lying.&lt;br /&gt;I know I was born and I know that I'll die.&lt;br /&gt;The in between is mine.&lt;br /&gt;I. am. mine.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Isn't Pearl Jam awesome?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-333938967040885696?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/333938967040885696/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=333938967040885696&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/333938967040885696'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/333938967040885696'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/10/long-post-iz-happin.html' title='Long post iz happin.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-5579585043516322959</id><published>2011-10-09T01:06:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-10-09T01:06:28.343+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Carpal Tunnel Slug</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Hi.   &lt;br /&gt;I got home a few hours ago. It was a long journey. It was a little tiring, considering the fact that I was sitting on the aisle seat once again. Even though i originally had the window seat. Which the hostess made me give up, because she had to keep her luggage there. =\ [How rude of her]. What was nice though, was that the woman i sat next too was also reading Atlas Shrugged. That was interesting.     &lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Its colder than Lahore here. Which makes me SO excited and happy! Winters, are just round the corner. *jumps with excitement*    &lt;br /&gt;I spend two days at N's before coming here. I had SO much fun. We always have fun together, which has made us realize that we should hang out more often. And we will. InshAllah. Yay. I went shopping with her too. And got lots of stuff for myself. Including a watch. I call it my Retarded Cartoon watch. But its so awesome, it makes me happy every time i check the time. =] Here's a picture.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-o0Uy51eR_O0/TpCtNTDxcVI/AAAAAAAAAVM/0x13X_w41As/s1600-h/071020111389%25255B5%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="071020111389" border="0" alt="071020111389" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9-NjDwst8Ac/TpCtOXuX72I/AAAAAAAAAVQ/yXYCGrvM2Js/071020111389_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="180" height="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;So yeah. Its so Me. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s1 just came back from her Maternity Ward duty. She has gross stories to tell =] .   &lt;br /&gt;I bought huge bags of Top Pops. And I'm addicted to them. Because they're the love of my life.     &lt;br /&gt;Also, I got a haircut. Yay.    &lt;br /&gt;And. I sort of have zero tolerance for lameness right now. I am in no mood of putting up with people being lame, and useless with me. Ew. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Okay, I'll write more later. I do have lots to write. I haven’t been writing much lately. For now, here's a painting N's little sister made for me while i was there. &amp;lt;3&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-Hvv5BKykIPg/TpCtPZk4i5I/AAAAAAAAAVU/UgF-yTz7h_s/s1600-h/081020111396%25255B5%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="081020111396" border="0" alt="081020111396" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-_mNr9kFOhJE/TpCtQXSfFHI/AAAAAAAAAVY/G5Ba5Uwpbzw/081020111396_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;p.s. The title. Is a track by Buckethead. Whose music im totally blown away by these days. *.* This one, I don’t like that much. But the name’s funny. So. Yeah.   &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-5579585043516322959?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5579585043516322959/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=5579585043516322959&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5579585043516322959'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5579585043516322959'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/10/carpal-tunnel-slug.html' title='Carpal Tunnel Slug'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-9-NjDwst8Ac/TpCtOXuX72I/AAAAAAAAAVQ/yXYCGrvM2Js/s72-c/071020111389_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-2390914249387676911</id><published>2011-09-28T10:11:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T10:13:49.385+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Morning.</title><content type='html'>Coffee, elevates my mood. Always. &lt;br /&gt;I'd have it three times a day if i could. But i'm sticking to 1-2 for now. Anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like this morning. Its ten a.m. I woke up an hour ago, had maceroni, watched tv. And made myself some mild coffee. I slept in my drawing room last night. S2 tipped me off. She told me that day that if i wanted to sleep really really well, i should sleep on the drawing room sofa. And so, last night i did. And omG. It was.. Heavenly. Im in love with that sofa now. Its dreamy.&lt;br /&gt;I need to re-heat my coffee. Okay done.&lt;br /&gt;So yeah. I feel fresh. &lt;br /&gt;I just have the fan on. Its not hot at all. &lt;br /&gt;I ran on the treadmill yesterday, for fifteen minutes. Just to feel fresh. It was fun. I must do it again today. Feeling fresh, is important. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh God, i love this morning.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-2390914249387676911?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2390914249387676911/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=2390914249387676911&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2390914249387676911'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2390914249387676911'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/09/morning.html' title='Morning.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-170476011658328764</id><published>2011-09-22T23:41:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-09-22T23:45:30.516+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happytired.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;There's something so amazing about having a jampacked schedule ahead of you. One with no studying involved either. I have one. These days. There's so much going on right now. I think i should write stuff down in points. So, yeah. Here I go:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;* I got done with my Sendups, yesterday. Woah. Can't believe it was yesterday. Anyway. Yeah. Yesterday. And i came home on the 6pm Daewoo. Slept in my own bed at night. Woke up all fresh. Woke up early, 8-ish. And had a nice little breakfast.&amp;#160; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;*Met my friends again. My awesome home-friends. They're stupid. And nuts. And we all have issues. But I love being with them. And i love meeting them everytime i come home. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;*Got to go to the dentist tomorrow. Got to buy new shirts tomorrow. Got to get weird Thyroid test done tomorrow. And a few other things. Tiring.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;*Going to spend Saturday at my friend's. Going to spend the night there. Really looking forward to it.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;*Have to head back to the hostel soon. Got to start studying. Got to plan out everything. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;*I feel lucky. Right now. For a number of reasons:    &lt;br /&gt;- Im free.     &lt;br /&gt;- Im home.     &lt;br /&gt;- My family's going nuts trying to convince me to stay home. Which makes me feel ultra-important.     &lt;br /&gt;- s1's baking cookies in the kitchen. Always wanted to have a sister who baked\cooked. Finally got my wish.     &lt;br /&gt;- Im doing so many things right now. That makes me happpy. Being busy, makes me happy.     &lt;br /&gt;- I looked nice today.     &lt;br /&gt;And then there are other things, that i don't mention here. So count those too.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;*Im super sleepy. But I have to watch Harry Potter 7 with s1. She asked me to have coffee, stay up, and watch the movie with her. But Im trying to avoid caffeine these days. Overloaded on it during the exams. So i don't know. Movieee!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;*Audioslave. I am the highway. WHAT AY SONG!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;*I feel like a gypsy. Hostel, Khala's house, home. Going back and forth. I sort of hate it. And love it. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;* I told s2 today that I was 'falling in hate with' her. Then we laughed.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Yeaaah, I guess thats it for now.    &lt;br /&gt;Whattay weird haphazard post btw. Bleh.     &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-170476011658328764?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/170476011658328764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=170476011658328764&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/170476011658328764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/170476011658328764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/09/happytired_22.html' title='Happytired.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-6074016741812829209</id><published>2011-09-16T18:41:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-09-16T18:42:13.599+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain more.</title><content type='html'>OmG, the weather these past two days? Amazing.&lt;br /&gt;Its almost cold. O.o &lt;br /&gt;It rained all morning today, which made me cheerful even while i waited two hours for my turn in my Physio viva. Lost my umbrella. And walked from the hostel gate upto my block, in the rain. Again, amazing.&lt;br /&gt;Came to my room and slept. Havent been able to sleep in the afternoons these days even after staying up all night. Weird. Anyway. Got up. Went out with r1 to the hostel cafe. Had hot noodles+vegetables. Yum. Its so pretty outside. I can't get over it.&lt;br /&gt;Amazing, amazing, amazing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;..And now, anatomy calls. -.-&lt;br /&gt;Bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-6074016741812829209?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6074016741812829209/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=6074016741812829209&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6074016741812829209'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6074016741812829209'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/09/rain-more.html' title='Rain more.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7950208755859362390</id><published>2011-09-11T14:09:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T14:09:56.836+05:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Here's a list of 10 random things that i love or hate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. I fall in love with my hands (Forearm included), everytime i complete a task, a tiring one, like writing a long exam or lifting something heavy. I love the idea of being able to do stuff with them. My hands, i.e. Yeah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. I hate uncertainty. In my plans, i.e. It annoys me. But yeah, the general uncertainty and vagueness in life, i appreciate. Adds salt to things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. I love jeans. I'd wear them all the time if i could. (not really, but just saying yknow).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. I hate hi-necks. Theyre uncomfortable and weird. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. I love falling asleep in places other than the bed. Those make the best naps. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. I hate it when people ask for favors in their weird pleasing manipulative self pitying ways. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. I love people who appreciate craziness. There's no fun if you're not even a little crazy. Crazy, is important.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. I hate it when cakes have pineapple slices in them. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. I love the smell of old stationery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. I hate not having anything to watch on tv, while im eating.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7950208755859362390?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7950208755859362390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7950208755859362390&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7950208755859362390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7950208755859362390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/09/heres-list-of-10-random-things-that-i.html' title=''/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1609680948494573928</id><published>2011-09-08T08:30:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T08:31:32.732+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weird morning update.</title><content type='html'>This shall be a random update. Well, not that random. Just an update about whats on my mind right now. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just woke up. S2 called and woke me up. I sent her a voice clip saying 'Hi im Forrest, Forrest Gu-ump'. Haha. Okay. Not in a good mood. I slept for only about 2 hours. Was in a weird subconscious state even then. Woke up with a stupid irritated feeling in my stomach, i blame the coffee i had last night. Haven't had anything since. And my mouth feels all sore. S2 says its the stress ulcers. :/ i'm also annoyed because tomorrow, i have my physio exam. Fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been watching all these random movies on tv lately, and what is uup with the brides in the movies? Why do they wait to get to the altar before they make all kinds of sudden decisions about their life? Acha, fine, bhaagna hi hai, to there must be a side door or a side entrance/exit from where she could prolly make a quiet exit, but no. She HAS to run the entire length of the aisle, burst open the doors and make her grand exit. Bleh. Drama queens, sub.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then, there's another thing. Yknow how, the guy/girl in the movie always starts telling the guy/girl they're into, this wannabe cute story about a 'special' place of theirs, could be anything, a park, museum, beach, anything, that their 'dad/mom/grandpa always used to bring them to', and how they told them some shit story about how safe and awesome it was, and how they always ended up there to feel 'safe' there again? I hate that. It's lame.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel cranky. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point is, exams are not a good time for me. That is, the day before the exam. I'm fine generally. Exams have a way of bringing out my worst moods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need to get busy. Do something else, except studying. And stressing. OmG. A mosquito bit me. Dengue's in the air these days. Stay away from me. :/ Anyway. I need to be so busy. To not have time for anything. To physically wear myself out. Aaah. But that can't happen till after my proffs. I'm just going to be annoying-busy till then. Need the fun-busy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I feel like i need to whine. But i don't want to. But that's what I have been doing. But whatever. But okay. But its 8 20 a.m. But i had to be up and studying by 8. But what about breakfast. But okay. Lets stop with the buts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long day ahead. &lt;br /&gt;But Bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1609680948494573928?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1609680948494573928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1609680948494573928&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1609680948494573928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1609680948494573928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/09/weird-morning-update.html' title='Weird morning update.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-5149897005159733620</id><published>2011-09-07T00:21:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-09-07T00:22:44.253+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Happy 20th, N!</title><content type='html'>Its my friend N's birthday today. &lt;br /&gt;I called her at 23:55.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*bell rings*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N: A, abhi paanch min rehtay hain!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: tsk! Badtameezi nai karo ub. Nai rehtay. .. Balkeh rehtay hain, i know. But phir twelve bajay log call karainge aur drama karainge to main to abhi hi karoongi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N: haha, haan drama karainge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: so. HAPPPYYY BIRTHDAYYYYYY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N: thankyou.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: ye kia hota hai. Thankyou. Excitement show karo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N: mujhay nai samajh aata aur kia boloon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Say 'yayiieeeee, thaaankkyouuuuuuu'.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N: acha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: So. Okay. OMG N, you're not a teenager anymoreee! Tumhari teenage khatam ho gyii!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N: haaaan, ho gyee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Tum phir se mujh se bari ho gyi. You're 20, im still 19. Meri to teenage rehti hai. Muahahahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N: hahah, kitni meannn ho aap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: hahah. Yes. :) so. Cake etc ka kia scene hai?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*we start talking about cakes and all when suddenly*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;N: acha mujhay aur log phone kar re hain bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*beep*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.. Yeah. Happy Birthday to my only Best Friend. :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. I think i did enough to pass my exam. The one i was fretting about, in the previous post. Heh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-5149897005159733620?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5149897005159733620/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=5149897005159733620&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5149897005159733620'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5149897005159733620'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/09/happy-20th-n.html' title='Happy 20th, N!'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-5948007978183442580</id><published>2011-09-05T03:55:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-09-05T03:55:50.191+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Pre exam weirdness.</title><content type='html'>I have my first paper in a couple of hours. &lt;br /&gt;I think i have about 25-30% of it prepared.&lt;br /&gt;This, freaks me out.&lt;br /&gt;But i'm tired of freaking out. And i'm tired of finding it funny. Its not funny anymore. &lt;br /&gt;I can't stop imagining myself in that stupid exam hall, sitting there, all cluless and lost, watching others frantically fill page after page. Yeah, not a good image. &lt;br /&gt;Just about two more hours to go.&lt;br /&gt;I just don't like to fail. I don't. -.-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-5948007978183442580?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5948007978183442580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=5948007978183442580&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5948007978183442580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5948007978183442580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/09/pre-exam-weirdness_9982.html' title='Pre exam weirdness.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-2257902116277642913</id><published>2011-08-30T06:40:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-08-30T06:46:15.124+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Mad 6 a.m conversations.</title><content type='html'>At 6 30 a.m, s2's tired of studying surgery and i'm not liking physio very much either. When suddenly:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S2: A, would you like to do a submandibular excision?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: No i don't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: You don't?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: well, on you maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: but i don't have a tumor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: then i'll do it anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S2: i'll do the Tracheostomy on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: no. I will do the tracheostomy on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: no. You can do it on someone else. If you're going somewhere and somebody can't breathe, you'll be like hey! Letme through. Imma do the tracheostomy, because best sister ever has taught me how to!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: yes! I will do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: yes. So you'll take your scalpel and...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: but i don't have a scalpel. Im in a park and a girl's dying. I dont carry my scalpel around with me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: okay then take a knife and..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: but i dont carry a knife with me either! Do you think im ay gangster man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: no but there a people around. They'll have knives?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: all they all gangsters man?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: okay but you need a knife.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: can i do it with a kitchen knife? Can i do it with my nail? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S2: okay A, you can do it with your nail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: but i dont have ay nail. :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: Do it with a rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: can i do it with a muddy rock?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: you'll have to do the aseptic technique on it, then you can do it with the rock. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: can i just lick the rock?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: okay you can just lick the rock. And do it with the rock.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: okay khewllxx. I will do the trach- .. Trache- .. Tracho-&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: learn the name first, you bimbo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: what bimbo? I know the name!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2: don't act like a bimbo. Learn the name. Its Tracheostomy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;me: im not a bimbo. I'm a Tracheostomer! :D &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;.. The end. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-2257902116277642913?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2257902116277642913/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=2257902116277642913&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2257902116277642913'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2257902116277642913'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/08/mad-6-am-conversations.html' title='Mad 6 a.m conversations.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1766533605596222942</id><published>2011-08-27T22:47:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-08-27T22:48:43.735+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hulk-like.</title><content type='html'>I am so angry. I feel like The Hulk. Except that i don't. But it expresses how angry i feel atm. But I'm not that angry really. More like annoyed, and frustrated. And angry. Annoyed, actually. Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;*deep breath*&lt;br /&gt;Biochem awaits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1766533605596222942?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1766533605596222942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1766533605596222942&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1766533605596222942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1766533605596222942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/08/hulk-like.html' title='Hulk-like.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7759272014076598489</id><published>2011-08-26T02:34:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-08-26T02:34:54.717+05:00</updated><title type='text'>iHate.</title><content type='html'>Hate. This. Sinking. Feeling.&lt;br /&gt;And this caffeine induced stress.&lt;br /&gt;And the heart's anatomy.&lt;br /&gt;And panic attacks.&lt;br /&gt;And this sinking feeling. Hate.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7759272014076598489?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7759272014076598489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7759272014076598489&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7759272014076598489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7759272014076598489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/08/ihate.html' title='iHate.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-6660188550786321624</id><published>2011-08-24T04:27:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-08-24T04:30:21.781+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Best sister ever. -.-</title><content type='html'>*&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Me listening to songs on my handsfree&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;s2&lt;/span&gt;: Isko koi iPod le ke de.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Me: &lt;/span&gt;Nai. Kyun?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;s2&lt;/span&gt;: Phone pe gaanay sunti hai. Ipod lo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: To normal baat hai, phone pe sunna. Sab suntay hain. Jab phone hai to kyun loon ipod?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;s2&lt;/span&gt;: Normal nai hai. I have one, s1 has one. Tum bhi lo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Nahi chahiye mujhay iPod kia hai!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;s2&lt;/span&gt;: Main to le ke doongi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hahahaha.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While posting this on the blog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Title kia likhoon?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;s2&lt;/span&gt;: ...Best sister ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;me&lt;/span&gt;: o.O &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 5 minutes of thinking:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Kia rakhooon yaaar title?&lt;br /&gt;s1: A, get over it yaaar.&lt;br /&gt;Me: Imma write this too.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-6660188550786321624?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6660188550786321624/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=6660188550786321624&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6660188550786321624'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6660188550786321624'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/08/best-sister-ever.html' title='Best sister ever. -.-'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7419165534721829783</id><published>2011-08-17T04:17:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-08-17T04:21:46.868+05:00</updated><title type='text'>I like chewy candies.</title><content type='html'>I've realised that when i drink too much of water that is neither lukewarm nor cold, but somewhere in between, it only makes me thirstier. :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm doing Anatomy these days. Hated it during college. But now that i've tried covering biochem and physio, anatomy looks pretty cute in comparison. Not because its easier, its harder actually, but biochem and physio are just dull. And they go on and on about stuff that i don't care about. Anatomy is very clear cut and nice.&lt;br /&gt;Thats my opinion nowadays, i don't know how long its going to last.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;s2 is coming in a week or so. She told me she was going to make me study a lot once she's here..which is a good thing, cuz God knows i reeeeally need to study more. Haha. She kept sending me the craziest voiceclips on Whatsapp today and i sat there alone in my room laughing like an idiot. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it started to rain. And i went up to the terrace as usual. Just sat there, had coffee and took in the prettyness of it all. Im going to miss it. Once i go back. Lets not talk about going back now shall we?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Had a really yummy Sehri. Cheese omellete without the veggies, 2 nuggets and a kabab. Yumm. So full. :/ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S1 has started baking. Made a red velvet cake that i ate the last piece of, yesterday. Now i want something new. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The gel pen i was using since the past few days, is almost out of ink. I need a new one. And i also need a haircut. And a new bottle of coffee. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay bye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7419165534721829783?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7419165534721829783/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7419165534721829783&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7419165534721829783'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7419165534721829783'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-like-chewy-candies.html' title='I like chewy candies.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-4698346445561503383</id><published>2011-08-13T03:22:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-08-13T03:32:07.619+05:00</updated><title type='text'>One of those moments.</title><content type='html'>You know how Sometimes things get so pretty, that you don't know what to do about it. You wish you could just sing at the top of your voice out in the garden where its raining like it hasn't in a long time. But you don't cuz your neighbours will think you're nuts? When you think that if you were a Sim, the diamond floating above your head would be bright bright green? And when you wish that you could save the moment with the click of your camera? When its one of those moments when its Good to be alive? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its one of those moments. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-4698346445561503383?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4698346445561503383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=4698346445561503383&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4698346445561503383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4698346445561503383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/08/one-of-those-moments.html' title='One of those moments.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-6952770737987633723</id><published>2011-08-09T23:56:00.004+05:00</published><updated>2011-08-10T00:18:02.913+05:00</updated><title type='text'>My parents are awesome.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BjiLwIIMycs/TkGH3XeOG1I/AAAAAAAAAVI/bCeFHuFh9OQ/s1600/090820111056.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BjiLwIIMycs/TkGH3XeOG1I/AAAAAAAAAVI/bCeFHuFh9OQ/s320/090820111056.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638937593707895634" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know i know. Ive already said this a thousand times, but omG, mom dad are actually pretty awesome. But what brought this sudden surge of love on, you ask? Ill tell you. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since i'd already finished every last one for s1's brownies, i was dying to eat something sweet today. Mom brought fruit, but i needed brownies, or cookies, or donuts, or cake. Well, you get the idea. So i said to mom, we'll go out tonight and imma buy me some donuts. Mom said sure. Dad came home. Had food. Went for taravee. Then came back, And sat down to relax. I went upto him and was like 'lez goooo :D' . He was like where? I said, donuts pliss? :( and he's like, right now? Its almost eleven. Im like. Pliss? :&lt; . Dad said no. Then mom went all cute, and started telling him how i'm so awesome and i should get donuts if i wanted them even if it was late. Dad was like, im tireeeed. So i said oh well, alright. We'll go tomorrow. Its okay. &lt;br /&gt;I said this and came upto my room. And in about ten minutes, mom called, and was like. Get ready, we're going. &lt;br /&gt;Awwww. &lt;br /&gt;And so we went :D and i got donuts, and junk food, and ABC waali jelly, and credit too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents spoil me. &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So they're awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-6952770737987633723?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6952770737987633723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=6952770737987633723&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6952770737987633723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6952770737987633723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/08/my-parents-are-awesome.html' title='My parents are awesome.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BjiLwIIMycs/TkGH3XeOG1I/AAAAAAAAAVI/bCeFHuFh9OQ/s72-c/090820111056.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-897865052763737963</id><published>2011-08-07T02:07:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-08-07T02:08:37.588+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Tiny bloodsucker.</title><content type='html'>There's this insect in the room. Its minute. About an ant's size maybe. You can hardly see its wings.. YET. IT HAS BITTEN ME IN 5 DIFFERENT PLACES ALREADY. I can't even see the damned thing. =[ Invisible sneaky MACHAR type.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Im hungry. Im craving Chocolate ice cream. I very rarely crave for it. But I do. Right now. Im going to eat soon. Before Sehri. Mom brought Cream rolls for me. Yuuurmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have btw, realized that I am a lot like my dad. Personality wise. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tiny shit just bit me 3 more times. :S Its out to get me. Little devil. &gt;.&lt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Going to meet friends tomorrow. Aftari.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Byebye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-897865052763737963?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/897865052763737963/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=897865052763737963&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/897865052763737963'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/897865052763737963'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/08/tiny-bloodsucker.html' title='Tiny bloodsucker.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-8053723810747710346</id><published>2011-08-03T00:51:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-08-03T00:53:28.940+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Like a stone.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So I am not in a good mood. What are you going to do about that? &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;What is up with this shortage of time? The whole exam thing. This does not make me happy. And I can NOT study in the afternoon when I haven’t eaten anything, or had my coffee either. =[ Whattay.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Mom made really yummy chaat today. And pakoray. I ate too much. Then slept too much. Then had coffee. Which was way too watery. Looked like I’d added the milk just for the color. Then started studying, but panicked too much. Thought too much. Too much happened. But no studying was done. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Planet of the Apes. I mean. Seriously? What kind of people make movies like that? I’d like to know what exactly was going through their minds when they decided that making a movie about human like apes taking over the world would be just what the movie watching population needed? And what I’d like to know more than that, is what was going on in their ape obsessed heads when they decided that they needed to make a SEQUEL to that? I mean. SERIOUSLY? PLANET OF THE APES? AGAIN? Pagal hain?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Oh well. =[&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Whatever.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;My phone has cancer btw. Check this out.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-2sXk42kF7wQ/TjhVLsbxYHI/AAAAAAAAAUk/NEiOd_J8wqI/s1600-h/DSC05328%25255B4%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="DSC05328" border="0" alt="DSC05328" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/-B_dUMF5gM8o/TjhVM0kUNDI/AAAAAAAAAUo/JZEciLn8NJA/DSC05328_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;It can’t be cured, and it spreads.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Its almost 1 am. And I'm slowly turning into a robot.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;That’s all. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-8053723810747710346?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8053723810747710346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=8053723810747710346&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8053723810747710346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8053723810747710346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/08/like-stone.html' title='Like a stone.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh4.ggpht.com/-B_dUMF5gM8o/TjhVM0kUNDI/AAAAAAAAAUo/JZEciLn8NJA/s72-c/DSC05328_thumb%25255B1%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-5096087760378736730</id><published>2011-07-31T02:08:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-31T02:12:43.242+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Been a good two days.</title><content type='html'>It has been a good two days. Fun. I really really badly needed this. A break from the 24/7 guilt of not studying for my exams. Yesness.&lt;br /&gt;Im still out of city. We head back home tomorrow. I really wanted all of us (my family + cousins) to go up north to Nathiagali etc because all of my friends are either there or have been there and back. And they're all raving about how amazing the weather is up there. But nobody in my family was really up for it, except me, so we ended up staying here. But! Even though im super bummed about not being able to go north, im glad still. Cuz ive had alot of fun still. I love being with my family, which includes me khala's and cousins and all that. Everybody has issues, everybody acts mean at times, and causes family problems, but i still love them no matter what. Cuz they're family. And i like being with the family. They're fun and retarded. I dont care.&lt;br /&gt;Its 2 am and we just got back. Im so full. And so happy. &lt;br /&gt;Im happy. And i think being happy calls for  a blogspost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;so yeah okay. Movie time.&lt;br /&gt;Buhbye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-5096087760378736730?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5096087760378736730/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=5096087760378736730&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5096087760378736730'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5096087760378736730'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/been-good-two-days.html' title='Been a good two days.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-471162581533892687</id><published>2011-07-26T03:30:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-26T03:32:17.870+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Duck and Run.</title><content type='html'>I got my computer fixed. But the internet’s being an ass. So is the computer actually. My dad gave it to this guy to get it fixed, who apparently calls himself scorpiaN, and likes to name my windows account scorpiaN, everytime he fixes my pc.  Which is twice, actually. So scorpiaN, turns out, did not really fix my pc. I realized that today. It still has issues. Weird random errors. And I can’t even open my Notepad file on the desktop. I double click it and nothing happens. Boo you ScorpiaN. You suck.&lt;br /&gt;Its 3 am. And I’m not studying. WHY DO I DO THIS TO MYSELF?&lt;br /&gt;Btw, I wanted to write a sane blogpost tonight. Something nice. And meaningful. But my brain’s not feeling upto it. Bohut nakhray ho gyay hain iskay. -.-&lt;br /&gt;I don’t feel like doing anything right now. I just want to waste my time. Which is so not healthy. Not these days. When time is so important. But I still want to waste it. Nai parhna. =]&lt;br /&gt;I’m being a little reckless with myself these days. Doing whatever I feel like really. I’m thinking a lot, and also not thinking at all. Thinking about the wrong things actually, instead of thinking about things that are important. Like my exams.  &lt;br /&gt;I need to shift the Tv in my room.&lt;br /&gt; Okay You know what? Words don’t like me. They just don’t. Cuz if they did, they’d help me out when I needed them. Especially now when I have so many weird and important thoughts on my mind, that need to be saved. They should help me get them out on paper. But no. All I come up with is. &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I need to shift the Tv in my room.&lt;/span&gt; That’s just great isn’t it? =]&lt;br /&gt;Okay whatever. I have decided I’m not going to study tonight. I will waste yet another day. I’ll go to sleep soon.&lt;br /&gt;Buhbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. Duck And Run is just the song that I'm listening to. Heh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-471162581533892687?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/471162581533892687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=471162581533892687&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/471162581533892687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/471162581533892687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/duck-and-run.html' title='Duck and Run.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7311510779770985348</id><published>2011-07-21T20:15:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-21T20:29:55.861+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Of nails and coffee.</title><content type='html'>I want Coffee. New kinds of nice coffee. I miss cold coffee. Hmm. I shall make it someday. Im tired. I went to Sd's place today. We had to study. I dozed off everytime she left the room for something. And i had all kinds of weird 2 minute dreams. Lol. &lt;br /&gt;Im about to take a nap. Then maybe some coffee. I need to get Iced Teabags for myself. I don't know how they're going to taste though. But i have to try. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I downloaded a new Spongebobsquarepants theme for my phone. Its stupid. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've finally grown my nails a bit. Underline the Bit part. Im proud of myself for that. Because as i've already mentioned before here on my blog, I C.A.N.T grow my nails. I always cut them as soon as they show signs of growing. Because I can't hold a pen properly when my nails are longer than usual. I feel weird typing. And texting too. But those aren't the major factors actually. Its just that I keep picking at my nails all the time until they get broke =&lt; . I be mad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. Enough about the nails.&lt;br /&gt;Im tired. Bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7311510779770985348?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7311510779770985348/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7311510779770985348&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7311510779770985348'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7311510779770985348'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/of-nails-and-coffee.html' title='Of nails and coffee.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7473442275422120820</id><published>2011-07-18T22:22:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-18T22:24:55.341+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Terrace.</title><content type='html'>I love my terrace. I love going upstairs whenever it rains. And I love to have coffee in the rain. With music. I love looking at nothing special while sitting there. The road infront of the house. The houses on the side. The trees. The street light. That dark blue sky. I love that colour of the sky btw. I love that feeling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ive missed this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7473442275422120820?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7473442275422120820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7473442275422120820&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7473442275422120820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7473442275422120820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/terrace.html' title='Terrace.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-4366712421145290000</id><published>2011-07-16T22:46:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T22:46:53.668+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Smile.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I feel good. Met my friends again. Had a great time. I looked nice.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I feel lucky right now. &lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/-RDmrsMXB7rk/TiHOh7ii2kI/AAAAAAAAAUc/KZIlPCWYCn0/s1600-h/edit%25255B4%25255D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: right; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="edit" border="0" alt="edit" align="right" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hKbjKCWG4bE/TiHOi5TNhlI/AAAAAAAAAUg/EPjWHOPTOQY/edit_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="108" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;For all the things I have. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;“And that’s why I smile.      &lt;br /&gt;It’s been a while       &lt;br /&gt;Since everyday and everything has felt this right..”&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-4366712421145290000?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4366712421145290000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=4366712421145290000&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4366712421145290000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4366712421145290000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/smile.html' title='Smile.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-hKbjKCWG4bE/TiHOi5TNhlI/AAAAAAAAAUg/EPjWHOPTOQY/s72-c/edit_thumb%25255B2%25255D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-649065668446018489</id><published>2011-07-16T01:53:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-16T02:59:20.112+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Days go by.</title><content type='html'>Today's the fifteenth. Todays the day i officially had to start studying. For my exams. Which start on the 5th of September. Im so not in the mood though. Today was such a waste. Mom is funny. She wants me to eat all day. Here I'm worried that Im gaining weight, and there she is making me eat more and more.&lt;br /&gt;Im watching a random movie on Star Movies. Its called Lock Up. It has Sylvester Stallone in it. Eeek. They're making cockroaches race and then betting on em. =\ &lt;br /&gt;And i think now they're gonna kill his friend. Shit its 2 am. I should study something atleast. &lt;br /&gt;By the way. I went to My friends place yesterday, with my other friends. OmG it felt SO good to be with them again. I actually felt like i was Back, yknow? Nice. =] Yes i was right, they're gonna kill his friend. I can't watch people fight. I just CAN NOT! I hate fights. I'd do anything to avoid them. Okay sylvester stallone is angry. He killed the other guy i think. OMG somebody just stabbed him. This movie is sad.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Im going to meet my friends again tomorrow. FUN. Ive borrowed these clothes from s1 that i'm going to wear tomorrow. I looked nice when i tried them on. =] &lt;br /&gt;Sylvester Stallone a.k.a Frank is planning to make a run for it. OmG the other guy, Dallas, betrayed him and now he's caught. =[ SAD MOVIE :@ . Ooo oo. He's running again. Okay whatever.&lt;br /&gt;So anyway. s1 has this nude coloured Nail Colour and I really like it. Its the only one i like. I put it on yesterday :D . Heeee heee. Yeah whatever.&lt;br /&gt;Okay bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-649065668446018489?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/649065668446018489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=649065668446018489&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/649065668446018489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/649065668446018489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/days-go-by.html' title='Days go by.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-6485234108618342121</id><published>2011-07-13T04:45:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-13T04:53:38.162+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Blog overhaul : I finally did it!</title><content type='html'>As you can appearently see, I FINALLY GAVE MY BLOG AN OVERHAUL :D .&lt;br /&gt;Ive been meaning to do it since ages, but i never got around to doing it. I browsed through a billion templates, but i couldn't find even ONE that was 'me'. Which made me think that maybe I didn't need a big fancy new template anyway. I could take a simple black one and personalize it myself and fall in love with it. And that's what i did. I took the simple Awesome.Inc template from blogger. Changed the background, changed the font, changed the colours, (which are actually the same as before), changed the layout a teeny bit, made a new header, and i was done. And i love it. Oh and as you can see, I made a new page. The iQuote page that i wanted to create so badly. Ill be updating it frequently inshAllah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;IM SAD ABOUT ONE THING THOUGH =[ . I forgot to save a pic of my blog's look before the change. =[ Sniff. Very, very, very unfortunate. Sniff. =[&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But okay anyway. Newness. Fresh air. Yay.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tell me what you think. =]&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-6485234108618342121?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6485234108618342121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=6485234108618342121&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6485234108618342121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6485234108618342121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/blog-overhaul-i-finally-did-it.html' title='Blog overhaul : I finally did it!'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-757412510615471363</id><published>2011-07-12T02:02:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T02:22:39.934+05:00</updated><title type='text'>I be want new things everyday.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I am human. I always want new things. Here’s a list of somethings I really really want. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;1. I want to go abroad. Not permanently. But for sometime. Grey’s anatomy tells me that its always raining in Seattle. Maybe I should move to Seattle for sometime. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;2. I want an assistant. Who’ll do all the boring work in my life. Like. Taking my dishes back to the kitchen after I'm done eating. Organize my books. Remember where I put my glasses. Secretly throw away really old stuff of mine that I don’t really use but can’t let go off. Give Mr.Cuddles a washing every now and then. He gets dusty. Etc etc..&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;3. I want to go running at 5 am every morning on a long long road. And then have a nice breakfast with something nice to watch on the Tv.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;4. I want to randomly meet new people, and talk to them for hours.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;5. I want to be excellent at one or two things atleast.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;6. I want to get thinner. And then buy a whole lot of new clothes. And then wear a new dress everyday.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;7. I really like Robert Downey Jr. Its not something I want. But, I just really really like him. That’s it.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;8. I want to be interviewed by James Lipton on ‘Inside the Actors Studio’. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;9. I want to have a long conversation with a friend, who I haven’t talked to in a long time. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;10. I want to invent something. [mehhh, not really]&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;11. I want a gray shirt. Lots of gray shirts. Nice ones. Oh. And pants too. Gray. And black. And blue. And white. And that weird offwhite creamish colour. Oh and a blood red shirt too. Lots of new bloodred shirts. Andand. A dark blue one. The shade of blue that I saw my cousin wearing that day. It was so nice. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;12. I want to ice skate. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;13. I want to be the best person I can, and stop being lazy about it.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;14. I want to experience the feeling of being High. On a real drug. Ooooo.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;15. I want to have my words quoted and remembered by people. All over the world. Awesome.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-757412510615471363?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/757412510615471363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=757412510615471363&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/757412510615471363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/757412510615471363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-be-want-new-things-everyday.html' title='I be want new things everyday.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-8565897878780309201</id><published>2011-07-09T03:20:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-09T03:20:34.635+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Word trivia :D</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;One of the many things about me, is that I love Word Trivia. Words. Useless words, anagrams, weird words, whatever. I like Words. They’re nice. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;SOO. I was just googling stuff, and I thought I’d share some of the interesting trivia I found. Here you go:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;- Switching letters is called &lt;strong&gt;spoonerism&lt;/strong&gt;. For example, saying jag of Flapan, instead of flag of Japan.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;- &amp;quot;&lt;strong&gt;Rhythm&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;quot; and &amp;quot;&lt;a href="http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/syzygy" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;syzygy&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&amp;quot; are the longest English words without vowels. &lt;em&gt;[See, how nice I was, adding a hyperlink for the word and all =&lt;/em&gt;&amp;gt;]&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;-One of the longest English words that can be typed using the top row of a &lt;strong&gt;typewriter&lt;/strong&gt; (allowing multiple uses of letters) is 'typewriter.' [This is fun].&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;- No words in the English language rhyme with &lt;strong&gt;orange&lt;/strong&gt;, &lt;strong&gt;silver&lt;/strong&gt; or &lt;strong&gt;purple&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;- The phrase &lt;strong&gt;&amp;quot;sleep tight&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;quot; originated when mattresses were set upon ropes woven through the bed frame. To remedy sagging ropes, one would use a bed key to tighten the rope. [&lt;em&gt;Included this one, incase you, like me have always wondered what people meant when they told you to ‘sleep tight’. o.O&lt;/em&gt; ]&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;- The naval rank of &amp;quot;&lt;strong&gt;Admiral&lt;/strong&gt;&amp;quot; is derived from the Arabic phrase &amp;quot;amir al bahr&amp;quot;, which means &amp;quot;lord of the sea&amp;quot;. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;-The abbreviation for pound, &amp;quot;lb.,&amp;quot; comes from the astrological sign Libra, meaning balance, and symbolized by scales. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;-Okay I found these two&amp;#160; too. They’re clever &lt;img style="border-bottom-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-left-style: none" class="wlEmoticon wlEmoticon-openmouthedsmile" alt="Open-mouthed smile" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VaicG-_Fu_A/TheCrRJBLiI/AAAAAAAAATY/67KGjPF5Gqw/wlEmoticon-openmouthedsmile%25255B2%25255D.png?imgmax=800" /&gt; : [ew I hate this huge smiley]&lt;strong&gt;anagrams&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;quot;&lt;strong&gt;To be or not to be: that is the question, whether its nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune&lt;/strong&gt;.&amp;quot;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;u&gt;ANAGRAM&lt;/u&gt;:    &lt;br /&gt;&amp;quot;In one of the Bard's best-thought-of tragedies, our insistent hero, Hamlet, queries on two fronts about how life turns rotten.&amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;quot;&lt;strong&gt;That's one small step for a man, one giant leap for mankind.&amp;quot; (Neil Armstrong, on the moon)     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;u&gt;ANAGRAM:     &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&amp;quot;A thin man ran; makes a large stride, left planet, pins flag on moon!&amp;#160; On to Mars!&amp;quot; &amp;quot;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Okay enough. You can google and confirm these, or correct these or whatever, if you want. As far as I know, these are legit. =D &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Enjoy. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;p.s. I just realized that Sword is an anagram of Words. Nice. Considering.. yknow. Words and sword. Get it? Okay whatev.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;BYE &lt;img style="border-bottom-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-left-style: none" class="wlEmoticon wlEmoticon-openmouthedsmile" alt="Open-mouthed smile" src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VaicG-_Fu_A/TheCrRJBLiI/AAAAAAAAATY/67KGjPF5Gqw/wlEmoticon-openmouthedsmile%25255B2%25255D.png?imgmax=800" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-8565897878780309201?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8565897878780309201/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=8565897878780309201&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8565897878780309201'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8565897878780309201'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/word-trivia-d.html' title='Word trivia :D'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/-VaicG-_Fu_A/TheCrRJBLiI/AAAAAAAAATY/67KGjPF5Gqw/s72-c/wlEmoticon-openmouthedsmile%25255B2%25255D.png?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-9049437288311975319</id><published>2011-07-06T18:36:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-06T18:36:56.375+05:00</updated><title type='text'>The summer feeling.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I'm getting that feeling these days. The summer feeling. The A.C. The waking up in the afternoon. Staying up all night. Watching old episodes of old TV shows. Eating, and eating some more. Reading novels. Eating fruits with mom and dad at night. Making coffee. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I like this feeling. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;But I also need something more to do. I need to find a use for alll this free time that I have. I want to have a busy day. A busy, fun, day. There's nothing much to do here, but. =\ &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I came across this:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;quot;&lt;em&gt;And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music&lt;/em&gt;.&amp;quot;     &lt;br /&gt;—&lt;em&gt; &lt;/em&gt;Friedrich Nietzsche&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Whattay thing to say. iLove.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I have to start studying from the 15th. Approx. for my exams. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I have changed. I know it. I can feel it. I don’t know what changed me, but something did. And its not so bad. =]&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-9049437288311975319?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/9049437288311975319/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=9049437288311975319&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/9049437288311975319'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/9049437288311975319'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/summer-feeling.html' title='The summer feeling.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-9203556039159106797</id><published>2011-07-05T02:54:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T02:54:40.547+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Onychotillomaniac</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Hello I'm back. Again. So. I'm using my Windows Live Writer after so long. I love writing on this. Today is such a lazy day. One of many, that are yet to come. But I intend to change this. I intend to change this lazy sleepy routine of mine, where I do nothing all day except lie down, watch TV shows, and eat, and sleep. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I wanted to have coffee today, but then I didn’t. I don’t know why. I want winters back. Hmph. Okay. I HATE Chinese movies. They’re so fake. And all they do is their fake fighting. And fake weird accent. And fake-ness.&amp;#160; They’re so harsh. Blekh. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I’d like to spend a year abroad. I’d like to work. I’d like for it to be rainy all the time. I’d like to walk, walk, and walk all day. In streets. Wet streets. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;When will that happen? =[&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;The lights just went out. Abhi to aayi thi. –.-&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s1 and s2 want me to make popcorns. They’re watching Vampire Diaries. I want to watch something else. You know what I want to watch? I want to watch a looooooooooong Period Drama. I will look for one when the light comes. I love that era. It was so fancy =D .&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I have seen lately, that there is way too much hate in the world. People hate everything and everyone. Too easily. I mean. CALM DOWN people. Give everybody a chance. =\ &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Okay. Time for you to learn something new:&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Onychotillomaniac – Is someone who is always picking on his\her nails. (i.e. Me)&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;We’re listening to s2’s crazy voice clips that she sent me one day when I was in the hostel. LOL. But obviously that’s not funny to you so okayokayokay.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Okaybye. &lt;img style="border-bottom-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-left-style: none" class="wlEmoticon wlEmoticon-openmouthedsmile" alt="Open-mouthed smile" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YxhrywS6qOs/ThI2n9kj2PI/AAAAAAAAATU/CfUniBJ9nW0/wlEmoticon-openmouthedsmile%25255B2%25255D.png?imgmax=800" /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;p.s I love s2 and my next post will be about her. &amp;lt;3&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-9203556039159106797?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/9203556039159106797/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=9203556039159106797&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/9203556039159106797'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/9203556039159106797'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/onychotillomaniac.html' title='Onychotillomaniac'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh5.ggpht.com/-YxhrywS6qOs/ThI2n9kj2PI/AAAAAAAAATU/CfUniBJ9nW0/s72-c/wlEmoticon-openmouthedsmile%25255B2%25255D.png?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7092527553274684409</id><published>2011-07-03T21:21:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-03T23:46:53.669+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Lazy days.</title><content type='html'>Hello im home.&lt;br /&gt;Ive realized that whenever Im home, all i talk about, is being home, and how awesome it is to be home. So i think, enough of that yknow. So okay.&lt;br /&gt;Hi.&lt;br /&gt;Mom and s1 made Pasta today. For the first time. It was YUMMAY! And then we watched the Wimbledon final between Djokovic (is that the spelling? Kinda twisted isn't it?) and Nadal. I was anti-Nadal. Nadal is funny. I mean, I don't hate him. But whatever. Federer is THE man. Totally. &lt;br /&gt;AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA. Sudden stomachache. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay. &lt;br /&gt;I just had fruits. Mango and plums and leechi. I love this combo. Cherries were missing though. Me and s2 have been watching The Mentalist lately. Since yesterday, i.e. I like it. Although its totally like Sherlock Holmes. But i like it. Im also going to try out this new show called Lie to Me. &lt;br /&gt;Body language and human behaviour fascinates me. &lt;br /&gt;I'd like to read, and know all about it. That would be cool. &lt;br /&gt;s1 wants her laptop right now. I want to stay up all night, and be online for hours and hours. That'd feel like summers. Vacations.&lt;br /&gt;It feels like that right now too, but not too much. Whatever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't believe im totally FREE. No tests, nothing. &lt;br /&gt;This is the start of my Lazy days. I woke up at 2 pm. &lt;br /&gt;Okay bye. :D&lt;br /&gt;More later. Soon.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7092527553274684409?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7092527553274684409/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7092527553274684409&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7092527553274684409'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7092527553274684409'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/07/lazy-days.html' title='Lazy days.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-2069189485329568862</id><published>2011-06-29T13:11:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T13:16:18.237+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving.</title><content type='html'>Today's my last day in the hostel. Im leaving in a few hours. Not going home directly i think. We all might go north. Its going to be fun if we do.&lt;br /&gt;But whatever. OmG. Im finally free.&lt;br /&gt;Im going home!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-2069189485329568862?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2069189485329568862/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=2069189485329568862&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2069189485329568862'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2069189485329568862'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/06/leaving.html' title='Leaving.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-8545515006627598856</id><published>2011-06-22T20:18:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-06-22T20:19:12.197+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Icy cherries yo.</title><content type='html'>Yellow, peoples.&lt;br /&gt;I just had tea and a butter croissant. Im so full. I had a little Biryani before that. I should eat minimal. I feel so healthy whenever i eat minimal. &lt;br /&gt;I also had cherries in the morning. You know how i like to eat my cherries? I like to keep them in the freezer for some. Then i take them out after a while and they have this thin layer of ice on em. And ooooo. Then i eat em. Heavenly. Yum yum.&lt;br /&gt;I finished The Client this afternoon. Wasn't as exciting and fast paced as the other grisham novels. The eleven year old kid was way too smart to be real. :/ Bleh. &lt;br /&gt;OMG. I cannot contain my love for Atlas Shrugged inside me. I going to finish it over the summers. Im going to take my time. But i recently watched a couple of scenes from its movie, and i cant wait to watch it. Ofcourse no movie could ever do justice to it, but maybe it would come close enough. Eeee. It fascinates me. The book. &lt;br /&gt;Oo. My roomate's here. We have to study Physiology together. Huge test coming, as usual. Blah. &lt;br /&gt;Sooo. I gotta jet. But man, i have more things to talk about. So. Okay. Ill brb. Ill continue this later. Stay put. &lt;br /&gt;Okay back. I didn't really study. We just talked. I had some more cherries. Yumyum. &lt;br /&gt;People like me. :) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;BTW. I've been very sucky lately. I havent been reading blogs nor commenting. I'll be a nice little girly when i go home, and will read all you peepils blogs. Okayokayokay? Okay.&lt;br /&gt;byenow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-8545515006627598856?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8545515006627598856/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=8545515006627598856&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8545515006627598856'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8545515006627598856'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/06/icy-cherries-yo.html' title='Icy cherries yo.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-429894715193047854</id><published>2011-06-12T12:21:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T02:18:14.146+05:00</updated><title type='text'>the 'other' phase.</title><content type='html'>It rained last night. And that made me miss home. Here, in the hostel, i have two phases. One is when i'm all positive, and having a good time with my roomates (almost), and liking the whole 'living in the hostel' experience. At those times, i say to myself, 'hey, this ain't so bad afterall'. And then there's the other phase. The gray phase. When little things that people do around me annoy me more than they normally do. When i hate living in the hostel, and when i feel like a square peg in a round hole (thats the term for it, no?). Im in that 'other phase' right now. &lt;br /&gt; It rained last night, and i just went to sleep. I should've been out there, with my headphones and my thoughts and the rain, but i wasn't. I just went to sleep. Not like me. So not like me. I just didn't feel like it. &lt;br /&gt; Is it wrong that the nerdyness of my college has started to bother me alot lately? I mean. One of them sucks up to this teacher so much. It pisses.me.off. It really does. And then the whole study-anytime-you're-free routine. See. Today's the second sunday that im spending here in the hostel instead of going to my khala's. I have a substage tomorrow that is very scary. So well. It was sunday so i was like, yayiee, ill get to sleep in today. And at 8 a.m in the morning, R1 (roomate 1) woke me up. And goes like:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;r1: 'wake uuuuup. Don't you have to study?'&lt;br /&gt;me: *grumpy* uhmm..what time is it?&lt;br /&gt;r1: its 8! We have a substage tomorroww!&lt;br /&gt;me: 8? OmG. Noo.. Im sleeping. Its sunday, its too earlyy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 11ish:&lt;br /&gt;r1 and r2: Wake uuuuup! Its ELEVEN! &lt;br /&gt;Me: sooooooo? &lt;br /&gt;r2: *myname*, its ELEVEN!!&lt;br /&gt;r1: yeaah, wake up, its ELEVEN! How much dyu want to sleep? &lt;br /&gt;me: so whaaaaat? Why are you guys up so earlyy?&lt;br /&gt;r1: i woke at 7:30.&lt;br /&gt;r2: and i, at 8.&lt;br /&gt;me: you guys are nuts. Let me sleeeep. &gt;.&lt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;... :/ . So yeah. Thats what I am like. I mean its obviously not their fault cuz they're used to waking up early. Its just me. &lt;br /&gt;And ee, i don't like people doing all the extra unimportant topics for the test, and then if asked about it, go like 'haha, see im nuts, im doing the extra stuff' . Err okay. You have an option of not doing it. Whatever. &lt;br /&gt;Im just annoyed, i don't even know why. Usually, i'm all chill. This phase is annoying. &lt;br /&gt;Anyway.&lt;br /&gt;im looking forward to tomorrow, cuz i get to meet two of my old friends. From back home. So thats nice. Hopefully. &lt;br /&gt;Okay bye. -.-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-429894715193047854?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/429894715193047854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=429894715193047854&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/429894715193047854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/429894715193047854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/06/other-phase.html' title='the &apos;other&apos; phase.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-9091216213273144394</id><published>2011-06-09T02:11:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-06-09T02:13:55.978+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Of survivor modes, and magnets.</title><content type='html'>I downloaded a new notepad like app for my cellphone on which i can write my blog and then post it online whenever i want. I like it. Yay. Its a fullscreen white page with a little black font. I like. &lt;br /&gt;    Anyway. So yes. I am on survivor mode. I turned it on yesterday. My survivor mode is awesome. Things just get easier during that. I make them easier for myself. I become more adaptable. Less lazier. Because i just think, that yknow, whatever, enough of the whining and complaining, i just need to get through this now. And then i actually, do, thankstoGod, get through whatever i need to get through. I have a huge number of tests coming up, with no time to prepare, coupled with a dire aching to go home for summer holidays. So i turned on my mode for this month. And i'm fine..so far.&lt;br /&gt;   I remember there was a time when i used to blog daily or with a day's gap. Good times. Now, i hardly get time. Oh my God, which reminds me...my pc's busted. It had this stupid virus in it, which i left untreated, thinking it would go away or stay dormant till i wanted it to..only it didnt. It took over my pc and started throwing lame errors at me. And now it won't start -.- . So much for staying dormant. I have to figure out a way to get it fixed without having to move around much. &lt;br /&gt;Okay.&lt;br /&gt;What else. I saw something today. And im officially grossed out by cats now. 'nuff said.&lt;br /&gt;Imma have an energy drink at college tomorrow. I find it harder and harder to stay awake during lectures lately. My eyes, its like. I have magnets on my eye lid, and that place-where-the-eyelid-meets-when-you-close-your-eye. And so they're always attracted to each other, and no matter what i do, i cant keep them apart. I have to fight actual magnetic forces during class. Thats something right? And omG did i actually write this lame a paragraph? Sorry for wasting however many seconds of your life it took you to read this. Not the entire post, just this paragraph. About the magnets.okay? heeeh. :) &lt;br /&gt;okay i should sleep now. Baaaye baaaaye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-9091216213273144394?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/9091216213273144394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=9091216213273144394&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/9091216213273144394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/9091216213273144394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/06/of-survivor-modes-and-magnets.html' title='Of survivor modes, and magnets.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-200889422144923585</id><published>2011-06-04T20:25:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-06-04T20:54:41.741+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Minitriphome 2.</title><content type='html'>Akon sang a hindi song. And it sucks. Can't do anything about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My minitriphome is &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;actually&lt;/span&gt; a very mini trip. I leave tomorrow. I have huge scary tests coming up after this, and my preperation is nothing. So Im scared. Home is amazing. I CAN'T wait for July. I really really can't. I mean. Why won't July come already? Have so many hectic days before it comes though. This test and that test. &lt;br /&gt;My issue is, that i don't know what my priorities are. I don't know if i want to do really good at studies, or if i want to just have fun, and do enough at college to pass the course. I really don't know. I want both. Somehow. And then! I have everybody (which is actually my family) , telling me that I need to take more days off college, and find time for fun. But my friends at college, and my roommates are all SO pro-studies, that even if i take everything lightly, watching them do so much makes me all guilty. Its messed up -.- So. Yes. I need to figure thigns out. For the next month, though, I know what i want. I just want to pass my tests and head back home. That's it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been posting any pictures on my blog lately. I need to do more of that. Hmm. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate ironing clothes. Its such a hassle. I need a limitless supply of jeans, and tops that I can wear to college daily and not worry about a thing. Okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that. Well. Im in a whiny mood. But I hate whining, because nothing good really comes out of it. It just makes me more anonyed, because I keep talking about one thing over and over again, and it doesn't go away. So whats the point really? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bluekh. Whatever. More later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. Watched inglorious basterds again today. Fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-200889422144923585?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/200889422144923585/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=200889422144923585&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/200889422144923585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/200889422144923585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/06/minitriphome-2.html' title='Minitriphome 2.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-596528521290901131</id><published>2011-06-03T19:13:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2011-06-03T19:31:18.196+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Minitriphome. :D</title><content type='html'>Im home. Right now. In s1's room. In the A.c. I just woke up. About to have coffee. THEN, I have to study - unforunately. BUT. Im Home! It was a rather sudden plan. I had planned to go to college today and then start for home in the evening and reach at night, sort of. But. s2 and my cousin N intervened, and gave me this lecture about how i needed a break, and to take college less seriously. o.O They all think that i take it all way too seriously. I think it's because of the mahol around me. Im in the hostel, and EVERYBODY studies there, and there's not much else they do. So eventhough i make it a point to stay normal, I guess it sometimes rubs off on me, and I turn into this worrisome nerdy little thing who dies everytime she has a test. SO, i guess i welcomed this intervention. They kept me from going insane. Lol. And. I ended up skipping college today, and taking the 8:45 am bus home. =] &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I WATCHED KUNG FU PANDA 2 YESTERDAY. IN 3d! OMG . I AM IN LOVE :) . &lt;br /&gt;SERIOUSLY. Its way better than the first part. And I'm in love. Hayay. I need to watch it a couple of times more. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like being reckless. This is my reckless phase. I like. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay okay i write more later okay?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay bye bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-596528521290901131?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/596528521290901131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=596528521290901131&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/596528521290901131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/596528521290901131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/06/minitriphome-d.html' title='Minitriphome. :D'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7944205066272517722</id><published>2011-05-21T00:03:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-05-21T00:41:52.331+05:00</updated><title type='text'>its 12:35 a.m.</title><content type='html'>*A crow shat(past tense of shit,yes) on my freshly washed black trousers and jeans. &lt;br /&gt;*And i stared into a cats weird deep black eyes for fifteen seconds. It creeped me out.&lt;br /&gt;*My stage went weird. Mcqs were shitty. I just guessed most of them. I have a feeling that all my guesses were wrong. &lt;br /&gt;*Viva tomorrow. Lots to study. I hope my viva isn't with Dr.M. She's evil and she makes me uncomfortable during the viva. She's unpleasant.&lt;br /&gt;*Me and roomates ordered chicken cheese shawarmas for us today. Not that nice.&lt;br /&gt;*I feel like i've been spending all my money on food lately.&lt;br /&gt;*Going to N's place tomorrow for the weekend. Fun!&lt;br /&gt;*Its so humid and hot these days. I'm slowly melting away.&lt;br /&gt;*I don't how to tell people my honest opinion without sounding rude or offensive. I dont say anything then. I never wanna be rude to anyone. People just dont like to hear the truth. :/&lt;br /&gt;*and i love you a little less than beforeeee*.&lt;br /&gt;*s2 hid my Atlas shrugged. I miss it.&lt;br /&gt;* Vastus lateralis is originated from the upper part of the intertrochanteric line, the anterior border of the greater trochanter, the lateral lip of gluteal tubersity, and the lateral lip of linea aspera.&lt;br /&gt;okay?&lt;br /&gt;*bye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7944205066272517722?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7944205066272517722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7944205066272517722&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7944205066272517722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7944205066272517722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/05/its-1235-am.html' title='its 12:35 a.m.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-8485155329477969233</id><published>2011-05-17T18:11:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-05-17T18:14:39.534+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Sunday nights.</title><content type='html'>I hate sunday nights. Im fine in the morning, but the nights? Hate those. I ALWAYS feel sucky at that time. Why though? I'll tell you. Because of the realization that i have college the next day. Because i have to go back to the hostel the next day. Because after every weekend i usually have a test coming up for which i never study at the weekend, eventhough i should have. Because i actually miss the people in my khala's house when i go back to the hostel. I miss being with people i know, and love. AND, because i hate having to wake up early the next day.&lt;br /&gt;Reason enough right?&lt;br /&gt;I thought i'd go out and have a good time with my people this weekend, but the plan kinda caught fire and exploded, even the ashes disappeared. I dont even know how. The day was a borefest.&lt;br /&gt;I was/in such a dead mood today. I wasted my time and didnot study for my huge stage thats coming up. I should've. I didn't even complete watching 'the king's speech'. I did not re activate my internet account either. I lost my collegge overall somewhere. Disasterous? I blame me. Mostly.&lt;br /&gt;  Ive stopped praying regularly. I used to. But laziness has taken over. How can you want to do something so badly and then choose not to do it? Kinda contradictory it is. But well. It reminds me of this thing i read in Atlas Shrugged. It says &lt;br /&gt;'Contradictions don't exist. If you find two ideas contradicting each other, check your premises. One of them will be wrong'. Something like that. I think i agree. &lt;br /&gt;My friend Sd texted me tonight. And told me that she thought i was a great friend. She is not the type to say that. Not really. So it really lifted me up, her saying it like that. Yay me.&lt;br /&gt;You know what i am right now? A leaf. In the wind. &lt;br /&gt;I had haleem two times today.&lt;br /&gt;My khala told me stories about her on-call duties in the hospital Emergency back in the day. Gross, sad and funny ones. I cant imagine myself doing all that. I can actually, a little. :D eeee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;okay bye. Ima try and sleep now. Too much info for all you random people out there. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s. Donald duck has a sister named Dumbella.&lt;br /&gt;p.s.2. Somebody should write a song called 'sunday nights'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-8485155329477969233?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8485155329477969233/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=8485155329477969233&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8485155329477969233'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8485155329477969233'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/05/sunday-nights.html' title='Sunday nights.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-5180421696232578778</id><published>2011-05-12T00:30:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-05-14T01:43:41.479+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Overload.</title><content type='html'>Craziness. Overloaded. Sleepy. Stressed out. Missing home. Imagining s1's Air conditioned room. Tired. Anxiety. Lack of social contact. Impatience. Dread. Annoyance. Fear. Exhaustion. Craziness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Please go away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-5180421696232578778?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/5180421696232578778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=5180421696232578778&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5180421696232578778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/5180421696232578778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/05/overload.html' title='Overload.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-3411868862684023346</id><published>2011-05-10T01:02:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2011-05-10T01:13:11.433+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Dead mousie.</title><content type='html'>A couple of mosquitoes just bit me. But thats nothing new is it?&lt;br /&gt;I went a little nuts for a while today. Seriously I did. I sort of lost touch with reality for a while. But then I went online and ranted to s1 a bit, text-talked to s2 a bit. And ooh. When i went online, I caught up with an old friend which felt great. And another friend from back home. I feel so much better now. I actually do.&lt;br /&gt;I have a substage coming up. The course is super long and I don't have much time. I should've studied alot today. And this weekend too. But I slept so much. Couldn't help it. &lt;br /&gt;Watched a weird movie called Uncertainty on tv. The opening scene caught my interest. Tortured myself into watching it to the end. Realized that it wasn't worth it. Argh. Well. Whatever. It happens.&lt;br /&gt;I need to write more about whats going on in my mind these days. Whats my blog for, right?&lt;br /&gt;So yes, i will. Don't feel like it right now though. Cuz. I have to study, and i've already ranted enough for the day. So i'll do it next time I get a weirdness attack.&lt;br /&gt;For sure.&lt;br /&gt;Okay?&lt;br /&gt;Okay. Let me show you a dead mousie i found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-boHoNs7iIQ4/TchKfizvZzI/AAAAAAAAATM/bagVRrH31Gw/s1600/06052011598.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-boHoNs7iIQ4/TchKfizvZzI/AAAAAAAAATM/bagVRrH31Gw/s320/06052011598.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604811642042804018" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eee. Haha.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-3411868862684023346?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/3411868862684023346/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=3411868862684023346&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3411868862684023346'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/3411868862684023346'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/05/dead-mousie.html' title='Dead mousie.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-boHoNs7iIQ4/TchKfizvZzI/AAAAAAAAATM/bagVRrH31Gw/s72-c/06052011598.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1242784836874508450</id><published>2011-05-05T21:43:00.004+05:00</published><updated>2011-05-05T21:48:23.580+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Zippy Racers.</title><content type='html'>. Its raining here today.&lt;br /&gt;. I went outside on the balcony with my cup of tea and headphones. I sat for 2 minutes and then came back cuz the mosquitoes were thirsty.&lt;br /&gt;. I wish I were home right now. s2 will be. Soon. I couldn't leave my classes here. So i stayed. Sad.&lt;br /&gt;. I eat ice creams ALL the time these days. Seriously.&lt;br /&gt;. Water melons are SUCH ay blessing in summers. Watery and cold and refreshing. Gottay love!&lt;br /&gt;. My new friends here, think I'm a very &lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;indifferent&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt; person. They said that they think that I don't really give a shit about anything. I was very amused by this. &lt;br /&gt;. I think Tangled is such a great movie :D . Very well balanced. Disneyness and new funnyness. I like.&lt;br /&gt;. Ive been reading an article on Body Language. It is sooo interesting. &lt;br /&gt;. Im awesome. &lt;br /&gt;Thats about it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imma watch Grey's tonight. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ate these chips called Zippy racers last night. Such a shitty name no? There was nothing Zippy Racer-y about it. Except that there was a toy car inside it. Pff.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1242784836874508450?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1242784836874508450/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1242784836874508450&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1242784836874508450'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1242784836874508450'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/05/zippy-racers.html' title='Zippy Racers.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-8706001136951657865</id><published>2011-04-30T20:34:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-04-30T20:53:20.174+05:00</updated><title type='text'>iThink.</title><content type='html'>I finally got internet for my room in the hostel. Its a blessing. But i can't really blog from there, cuz my roommates are always around, and no, i don't tell everyone about my blog. Bleh. So yeah. Anyway. Im at my khala's for a day. &lt;br /&gt;I had coffee. My khala's chef makes teh craziest coffee. I don't know what he adds in it, but its super effective. Half a cup, and im all awake and crazy like. But thats good. Cuz i need all that energy. Another test coming up, as usual. Now its like, I don't even feel the pressure that much. Its a routine. I have a test every other day. Its constant. I've just learnt to cherish the precious day or two that i get in between, where i don't have a test the next day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If i weren't doing medicine,&lt;strong&gt; I think &lt;/strong&gt;i'd like to be/do alot of things. I'd like to study Human Behaviour. Alot. With surveys and all. Or be a researcher. In a Hi-fi research unit somewhere, doing hi-fi stuff. I'd also like to write a novel. But I could never do that. Words don't like me. Coherent phrases don't like me either. So gotta drop the idea of the book. Mehh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other than that. &lt;strong&gt;I also think&lt;/strong&gt;, that having two sisters is SO awesome. I mean. I can whine whenever I want. And being the youngest has its own perks. If im not talking to one of them, I can talk to the other. If i hate my friends, I still have people to talk to. And we kinda have the same core inside, so we get each other. Which is awesome. I like this whole `sisters` thing. Just saying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, &lt;strong&gt;i think &lt;/strong&gt;that people wear way too much make up. I can't make myself do that. It feels fake. I don't know. I mean. It hides my face. Weddings are fine. But i think makeup should be subtle. Not like face paint. I don't know. Doesn't look real. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And&lt;strong&gt; i think &lt;/strong&gt;wearing printed shalwars with plain shirts is not a good idea. I don't like it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay thats all. Baaye baaye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-8706001136951657865?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8706001136951657865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=8706001136951657865&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8706001136951657865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8706001136951657865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/04/ithink.html' title='iThink.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-2856527540368101787</id><published>2011-04-27T09:27:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-04-27T09:28:49.604+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is.</title><content type='html'>Life is beautiful. Its amazing. Its a rollercoaster ride. It tests you and tosses you around and then catches you just to push you over the edge again. It doesn't get boring. Ever.&lt;br /&gt;Im alive. And im glad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-2856527540368101787?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2856527540368101787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=2856527540368101787&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2856527540368101787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2856527540368101787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/04/life-is.html' title='Life is.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1725350382315969592</id><published>2011-04-21T12:42:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-04-21T12:45:22.002+05:00</updated><title type='text'>A cat pee'd on my slippers.</title><content type='html'>Hasnt it been the longest time? Yes it has.&lt;br /&gt;I have a test every other day. Its not even funny. Well, it is a little funny. I dont have time for anything. Literally. Any free time i get, i use it to catch up on my sleep or watch a movie. Thats all i do. &lt;br /&gt;I watched Letters to juliet the other day. Everythings so typical these days. *danceee the night away, live your life hshagfufof*. Whatever. Laaaa lalalalalalalalaaaaaaaa.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway.  &lt;br /&gt;I have so much to whine about, but somehow i dont want to spill it out here. I like my cute positive nicey blog. No black whiny-ness here. Not too much anyway. Some, i can do with. But no seriously, im such a whiner. Im a whine box. Push the button and i'll go on and on, unless you shut me up. Well no, i shut myself up.  Soon. But whatev. &lt;br /&gt;Im dying to eat cinnabon, and to buy an awesome new pair of jeans. I just cant seem to do any of those things. Something always happens. Its a curse.&lt;br /&gt;The Hangover always makes me laugh. &lt;br /&gt;Im skeptical of everything and everyone. How can one not be? I dont know. People are so weird. Im in that phase right now where i get really irritated by how people generally behave. They just follow each other all the time. Wierd herd mentality. And i HATE people who ask me for favors all the time. I love to help out everyone, i actually do. But when they just get all frank and keep asking for shit allll the time, that just puts me off. Majorly. I dont ask people for favors much. I dont like to. Ugh. I dont know.&lt;br /&gt;I just had a kulfi.&lt;br /&gt;okay bye. :&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. The title of the post? Totally happened.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1725350382315969592?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1725350382315969592/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1725350382315969592&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1725350382315969592'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1725350382315969592'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/04/cat-peed-on-my-slippers.html' title='A cat pee&apos;d on my slippers.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-253475317176416582</id><published>2011-04-10T00:23:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T00:27:18.226+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Moments.</title><content type='html'>*my cellphone rings*&lt;br /&gt;Its Dad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ME: jee?&lt;br /&gt;DAD: haan.. Kia kar re ho?&lt;br /&gt;ME: *laughs*. Kyun, coffee chaiye? =p&lt;br /&gt;DAD: *laughs* naiii..&lt;br /&gt;ME: *laughs*. Phir? &lt;br /&gt;DAD: kia kar re ho?&lt;br /&gt;ME: kuch nai. Bethi wi hoon. Popcorns kha ri thi.&lt;br /&gt;DAD: s1 kidhar hai?&lt;br /&gt;ME: idhar hi.&lt;br /&gt;DAD: kia kar ri hai?&lt;br /&gt;ME: aiwyeen. Hum aur mama baatain kar re thay.&lt;br /&gt;DAD: achaa. Woo.. tv pe terminator 3 lagi wi hai..&lt;br /&gt;ME: ooo-&lt;br /&gt;DAD: dekhi wi hai?&lt;br /&gt;ME: naii. Mainay one bhi nai dekhi wi. =p&lt;br /&gt;DAD: achaa.. to.. Lagi wi hai.. Idhar aa jao kuch dair. Dekh letay hain..&lt;br /&gt;ME: oo. acha haha aati hoon. Aa ri hoon. Bye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me to mom and s1:&lt;br /&gt;Awww! Babas so cute. He said terminator 3 lagi wi hai, he wants us to spend time with him. Lets go sit in that room ^.^ .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; These little moments mean the world to me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-253475317176416582?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/253475317176416582/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=253475317176416582&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/253475317176416582'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/253475317176416582'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/04/moments_10.html' title='Moments.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-6053023730065730873</id><published>2011-04-04T23:08:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-04-04T23:08:50.083+05:00</updated><title type='text'>I like saying ‘Hank’.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;When I'm at home, I don’t feel different. I feel the same. I feel normal. The way I used to feel back when I used to be at home. The thoughts of going back are annoying. Black pastel lines in my bright multicolored thoughts.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;s2 went back today. She couldn’t stay any longer cuz she can’t miss her clinics back there. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Today was a good day. I woke up around 12. Had last nights leftover Chicken spaghetti, with Grey’s Anatomy. Then zombied around while s2 packed stuff for going back. Watched more tv. Had a nice lunch around 5. Took a shower. Watched a bit of V for Vendetta again, with s2, which Chicken Cheese Balls, and popcorns. [Brb. Mom calling].&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Back. She had called for food. Lol. Oh damn, I just remembered, I had to make coffee for dad. Ill make it after im done with this post. Anyway. Me and s1 are going shopping tomorrow. Then I’ll go to the dentist. Etc etc.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I’ve realized that I like pomegranate flavored stuff. =o . &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Ever wonder why there aren’t really many people that you can talk, like, actually Talk to? For some reason, People don’t get half the shit I’d like them to get. =\ Its frustrating. Makes me not take them seriously. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Whatever. &lt;a href="http://lh6.ggpht.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TZoJIn-NOtI/AAAAAAAAAS4/ezBoA4iZIRs/s1600-h/17032011362%5B5%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="background-image: none; border-right-width: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; display: inline; float: left; border-top-width: 0px; border-bottom-width: 0px; border-left-width: 0px; padding-top: 0px" title="17032011362" border="0" alt="17032011362" align="left" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TZoJJhsChiI/AAAAAAAAAS8/z-IJXc7ccZU/17032011362_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&amp;#160;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Check this out. This is ay random claw that I found on the ground, in my college. Haha. Weird no? Eeek.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Imma do a picture post soon inshAllah. I have my camera while im here. So yay to that &lt;img style="border-bottom-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-left-style: none" class="wlEmoticon wlEmoticon-openmouthedsmile" alt="Open-mouthed smile" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TZoJK-PnEkI/AAAAAAAAATA/_Oe6QNQ0cNI/wlEmoticon-openmouthedsmile%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" /&gt; Ew. Where did this smiley come from? =\ Ugly live messenger smileys taking over my blog &lt;img style="border-bottom-style: none; border-right-style: none; border-top-style: none; border-left-style: none" class="wlEmoticon wlEmoticon-surprisedsmile" alt="Surprised smile" src="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TZoJL07i9bI/AAAAAAAAATE/uzrVRAi2bF4/wlEmoticon-surprisedsmile%5B2%5D.png?imgmax=800" /&gt; . EW. This is new =\ . &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Okay bye.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-6053023730065730873?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6053023730065730873/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=6053023730065730873&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6053023730065730873'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6053023730065730873'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-like-saying-hank.html' title='I like saying ‘Hank’.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh3.ggpht.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TZoJJhsChiI/AAAAAAAAAS8/z-IJXc7ccZU/s72-c/17032011362_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-2239873082881700284</id><published>2011-04-03T15:32:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-04-03T15:32:57.766+05:00</updated><title type='text'>E.T go home!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;So. I'm finally settling in the lazy summery routine. At home. Its not hot here btw. Its still cold-ish, and we haven’t turned the fans on yet. So its all good. Anyway. I'm eating SO much here. Mom’s always bringing something awesome for us to eat, and then I can’t resist it and then I can’t stop whining about how fat I'm getting. Life's unfair. Why can’t I just eat all I want without getting fat? –.- Whatever.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I watched Harry Potter 7, and then Harry Potter 1 again, just for the sake of it, and it was fuuun. I'm going to watch Despicable Me and 127 hours, and all them new movies too, while I have the time. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;My mom and dad are SO cute. I can’t tell you HOW much. I made coffee for dad after so long last night. And I went shopping with mom, for clothes. Mom’s so cute. She has Blood pressure issues, and she’s a doctor, and she still bought a packet of Salted Lays in the market, haha, which I snatched from her the second she picked em up. But lol, she’s funny. We watched 2012 together. Me and s1 had seen it before. Dad loves watching destructive stuff. Buildings falling, ground shaking, houses dying, the whole deal. So yeah, he enjoyed 2012. Cute.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I’ve decided to change my blog banner up there. I have an idea for it. Ill make one when I feel like it. That’s not going to be anytime soon but at least I have the idea. So. Maybe one day.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Aw man, home’s so sweet. I mean. Nothing special. Its just. Being back. To my life. I’ve missed this. And I think its unfair that I have to spend so much time apart from here. But then again, it was my choice. So. Gotta deal with it. I don’t regret going. Its just that its hard being away. Ofcourse it is. I knew it. So whatev. I'm good.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I'm LOVING Atlas Shrugged. Its refreshing. I love reading stuff that gives me a new perspective. I love it. I need to read a long War related novel next. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;There’s this song. Called Astronomia. If I had to get high with a song in the background, this would be that song. Seriously. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;And I also heard this song E.T by Katy Perry that’s stuck in my head. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I have to start studying for my post-spring-break-tests from tomorrow. Not looking forward to that. Bleh.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Okay more later. Byebye. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-2239873082881700284?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/2239873082881700284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=2239873082881700284&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2239873082881700284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/2239873082881700284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/04/et-go-home.html' title='E.T go home!'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7323712301731158448</id><published>2011-04-01T12:28:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-04-01T12:31:57.390+05:00</updated><title type='text'>HOME.</title><content type='html'>IM HOMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;:D MY ROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MY TEEEEEEEEVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;MY FAMILYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just woke up. I'm all yay!&lt;br /&gt;Gotta go to the dentist today though. Annoying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7323712301731158448?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7323712301731158448/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7323712301731158448&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7323712301731158448'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7323712301731158448'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/04/home.html' title='HOME.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-6634799208233548226</id><published>2011-03-26T20:34:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2011-03-26T20:49:01.626+05:00</updated><title type='text'>iFluctuate.</title><content type='html'>I'm at my khala's for the weekend. As usual. Got two tests coming up. Got to study for the two tests. Instead, im blogging, and watching tv shows, and having coffee, and sleeping, and eating chocolates. Im not even enjoying myself. I'm just like, &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;mehhh&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;Whatev. Im glad Im going HOME in a few days. After three months, ladies and gentlemen. THREE months. Can you believe that? =\ Weird ,is it not? I'm going to shop, and eat and sleep and eat and watch movies all night long, and catch up with s1, and mom and dad, and eat, and sleep, and stay online all night, and walk on my terrace and meet my friends and ALL THAT. InshAllah. I am going to do all that. *deep breath* . Just a few days more..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm wearing nice summery clothes. Its a purplish shirt with cute white dots on it. I like it. Oh and I hate it when girls wear plain shirts, with printed Shalwars. Its just not cool. I don't get it. =\ &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched Men of Honor that day. With my Roomies. Haha. But anyway. That movie. The guy. Who is so driven and hardworking. Made me wonder, if there are actually people like that around us. Are there? I haven't really seen any. Everybody gives up. Not giving up, ever, sounds inspiring. But I guess one should know when to give up. What if you're just wasting your time? Bleh, I don't know. Gibberish. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mood fluctuates alot these days. Randomly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gotta study the Lower Limb today. Femural triangle, and all that. Lumber Plexus. Plexus. Plexus. Sounds like a computer company's name. Plexus. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to shop alot. I don't feel like shopping too often. But these days, i do. ALOT. I want to shop till i drop. Lame. Hahah. Whatev.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whenever I go out, i look at the sky. Its kind of a habit of mine. Do you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-6634799208233548226?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6634799208233548226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=6634799208233548226&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6634799208233548226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6634799208233548226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/03/ifluctuate.html' title='iFluctuate.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-920498454961928093</id><published>2011-03-20T14:04:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-03-20T14:05:58.557+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Thinking out loud.</title><content type='html'>Im dissatisfied with alot of things around me. Im annoyed by them. The way people behave, and think, and the way we all behave on the whole. Its unsettling. And it bothers me. &lt;br /&gt;'Be the change you want to see in the world', said Gandhi. Makes sense.. Then why aren't we? Being that change? We keep talking about what we want and what we don't want and how certain things should and shouldn't be what they are now. But we don't do anything about it. Why? We're lazy and stupid. Thats why. But that can't be the only reason why..  &lt;br /&gt;Aren't we supposed to be the best version of ourselves? Shouldn't we atleast try? I wonder why we don't try hard enough. Why are we okay with just being average?  Why is everybody okay with mediocrity?! We've only got one shot at life..then why arent we trying to be as great at it as we can be? Why arent we trying to tap all the potential thats bottled up inside of us? The way i see it, thats all that we should be doing. Every minute of everyday, and for the rest of our lives. Thats all that matters. That's all that should matter.&lt;br /&gt;But somehow, it doesn't. Not to us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whats wrong with us?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-920498454961928093?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/920498454961928093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=920498454961928093&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/920498454961928093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/920498454961928093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/03/thinking-out-loud.html' title='Thinking out loud.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-6705838033801603232</id><published>2011-03-15T19:59:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-03-15T19:59:43.217+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Short leetal update!</title><content type='html'>- Summer is in the air. So are mosquitoes.&lt;br /&gt;- I'm free today. Can't believe I have no test tomorrow. o.O &lt;br /&gt;- Imma watch Tangled and Men of Honor today.&lt;br /&gt;- CANT WAIT TO GO HOME FOR APRIL BREAK :D O MEE GOD!&lt;br /&gt;- I'm hungry =\ .&lt;br /&gt;- Japan earthquake. I'm so out of touch with everything that's going on in the world. The hostel's like a little world of its own. -.-&lt;br /&gt;- I think I've developed some kind of stress disorder. No kidding.&lt;br /&gt;- I love the word Minion. &lt;br /&gt;- I'm in the hostel net cafe. Cant wait to get a separate connection for my room. This keyboard sucks.&lt;br /&gt;-I'm trying to find a novel for my non-novel-reading cousin. Its not an easy job.&lt;br /&gt;- I myself am reading Atlas Shrugged :D . Just started reading it. Yum.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ima read blogs now. Byebye.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-6705838033801603232?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6705838033801603232/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=6705838033801603232&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6705838033801603232'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6705838033801603232'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/03/short-leetal-update.html' title='Short leetal update!'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-4621703406133810556</id><published>2011-03-12T08:55:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T09:01:09.212+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Smells like morning.</title><content type='html'>8:39 a.m. &lt;br /&gt;I had to be up at 7 am. But here i am, still in bed. Super sleepy. Have to study. Stupid me. My eyelids are superheavy. Cant open them, sorry. &lt;br /&gt;Summers are here btw. I slept with the fan on last night. Felt good. I havent smelt summers in the air yet though. That is yet to come. &lt;br /&gt;You know what? I love the sense of Smell. I mean, its so under rated. But i love it. Different smells remind me of different things. They bring memories back. And sometimes a place smells like  something particular and eventhough at times i cant fully remember what it is, it still makes me feel a particular emotion, and its awesome. Smells and memories go together, believe me. I could go on and on trying to explain it, but whatev, im not too good at that -.- . So just try, and understand on your own. And appreciate your sense of smell more. Thankyou. :p&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I have two roommates now! And i'm gonna be mentioning stuff about them so i thought its time, i bring them in. Ill call them r1 and r2. Haha. Yay! But anyway, they're both niiice. They're nice people. I had flu that day and r2 made hot tea for me. I really like them so far. Our tastes don't match, but whatev, i can compromise on that cant i? I can. &lt;br /&gt;It was s2's birthday yesterday. We had fun. I miss posting random pictures of everything. :/ ! &lt;br /&gt;I gotta study anatomy now. ARGH. &lt;br /&gt;Okay bye. :) &lt;br /&gt;time: 8.57 a.m. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s. Writing this blogpost woke me up. I love my blog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-4621703406133810556?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4621703406133810556/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=4621703406133810556&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4621703406133810556'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4621703406133810556'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/03/smells-like-morning.html' title='Smells like morning.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-774879568199635504</id><published>2011-03-07T18:33:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-03-07T18:37:16.660+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Paperweight.</title><content type='html'>Note: Im writing this post at 12.30 am. But i'm gonna post it tomorrow at college where i get wifi. (turns out, i forgot to post this at college, so im doing it now on gprs :/)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi, y'all.&lt;br /&gt;Im under my quilt right now, about to sleep. College tomorrow. Had a short trip over the weekend. We all went to celebrate s1's birthday. It was fun. Birthdays should be nice. Its s2's birthday this friday. Haha. We three have birthdays one week apart. Buuuut, mine comes first so its the most exciting one. Muahaha.&lt;br /&gt; Okay whatev. I need new headphones. S1 stepped on the previous ones :/ . &lt;br /&gt;Ooh. Btw. Ive realised that i love the smell of rain+paint. I mean. I already loved them both separately but that day, during shifting rooms in the hostel, it was raining and me and my roommates were getting our room painted. And oooooh, the smell. YUM. Super yum. &lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Im all whiny nowadays. So i dont really know what else to write. Im superwhinylike. I wanna whine ALL the time. What should i do? :o &lt;br /&gt;Awww, i love my cellphones keypad. Its so flat and smewwwth. Haha. My fingers be gliiiidin over it yo. OmGimsolame.&lt;br /&gt;okay enough. Bye. &lt;br /&gt;I need more peace in my life. Give? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s. 100 FOLLOWERS! Im the luckiest. Awwwww. My dear wittle bloggiee, that no one knew about. Has a hundred followers. Aww :'D .&lt;br /&gt;Thank YOU!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-774879568199635504?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/774879568199635504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=774879568199635504&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/774879568199635504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/774879568199635504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/03/paperweight.html' title='Paperweight.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-4739839709965638969</id><published>2011-03-02T08:25:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-03-02T08:27:56.726+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Turn the washing machine off.</title><content type='html'>Its 8.20 a.m. &lt;br /&gt;Im at college. Listening to Misguided Ghosts. Very appropriate for me right now.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going through this weird phase, where i'm letting other people's judgements define who i am. And thats just not me. I've never cared about things like that. I think its because maybe im afraid that they're right. Ew. No.&lt;br /&gt;Life's weird. Have i said that before? I don't know. Its like someone's put my insides, inside a washing machine. And they wont turn it off. Seriously. I need the washing machine to turn off. Okay? Okay.&lt;br /&gt;Ima hang in there till then.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;p.s. Ill write more soon. Mobile blogging is so awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-4739839709965638969?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4739839709965638969/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=4739839709965638969&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4739839709965638969'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4739839709965638969'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/03/turn-washing-machine-off.html' title='Turn the washing machine off.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1649228842005777612</id><published>2011-02-26T21:57:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-02-26T21:58:33.221+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Helium hail.</title><content type='html'>Hello. I finally found a way to blog from my cellphone. Im hoping it'll work. &lt;br /&gt;OmG. The weather today? How awesome? No, tell me! HOW awesome? It hailed like crazy and it looked like snow. Im in love. I have this major test on monday and i havent started preparing yet cuz i couldnt resist the weather and went out. We had sucha nice time. Pretty.&lt;br /&gt;Im at my khala's for the weekend. Weekends are fun here. I look forward to them. Im really annoyed with my hostel/college people. Becausee! I dont know, they're way too study prone. I mean. They take it SO seriously. And the girls are all like oooo, this that. I dont know. Whatever. I get really annoyed. And around them, i feel dumb. But im not dumb. But i feel dumb around them cuz they study all the time and they know everything. Even my friends. I like a couple of my friends here. One of em baked me a cake for my Bday and how sweet was that? :/ yum.&lt;br /&gt;I've had alooot of fun lately and life just ain't settling down. I just feel like fast forwarding everything. I need stability and certainty. Too much chaos. Its annoying. Very.&lt;br /&gt;Im bipolar these days. I get these weird mood phases. Sigh. Im trying to be patient with myself and letting things be, for now. Life's colours are fluctuating. Gray.White.Black.White.Black.Black.Gray. Like that. &lt;br /&gt;Ooh. Btw, i forgot to mention. My birthday was amazing! I was surprised two times in a day, haha, like thats even possible. But yeah i was. I got the best gifts. I love it when i get nice personalized gifts. Unlike those cliched photo frames and boxes of chocolate. &lt;br /&gt;God's awesome. &lt;br /&gt;I love how my voice sounds after inhaling helium. Its hilarious. :D I be a helium addict. Nomnom. No. Just exaggerating. Whatev.&lt;br /&gt;Im sleepy. I should study. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s. I love all you blog reading people. You be the sweetest. Thankyou for all the wishes :D . I swear i like you peepils truly. :D *hands out chocolates*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1649228842005777612?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1649228842005777612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1649228842005777612&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1649228842005777612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1649228842005777612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/02/helium-hail.html' title='Helium hail.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-252606229334672851</id><published>2011-02-25T01:04:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2011-02-25T01:09:56.540+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Chapter 19.</title><content type='html'>Its my birthday today.&lt;br /&gt;25th february, yes.&lt;br /&gt;i feel weird being alone here in the hostel where no one knows its my birthday. But, i also feel very nice because i just spent the last hour attending calls and replying to text messages from friends and family. =&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Its my dad's birthday too! We share the same birthdate. So happy birthday to baba :D !&lt;br /&gt;i love him, he's the cutest. We cut the cake together at midnight every year. This time it was me, mom, s1,s2 and dad in a conference call while they cut the cake. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im gonna cut my cake tomorrow. I hope its fun. Okay blogger wont let me write more on my phone so ill write more tomorrow inshAllah.&lt;br /&gt;bybye then. :D&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-252606229334672851?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/252606229334672851/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=252606229334672851&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/252606229334672851'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/252606229334672851'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/02/chapter-19.html' title='Chapter 19.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-7491163029988001936</id><published>2011-02-21T23:30:00.000+05:00</published><updated>2011-02-21T23:36:00.353+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Grrr!</title><content type='html'>I take alot of stress. ALOT. For all sorts of teeny tiny things. In many other matters, im very chill. More than other people. But then these teeny tiny little problems come up from nowhere and they drive me crazy. I hate uncertainty and unsettled matters. Im annoyed and stressed. And annoyed and angry and stressed. And stressed.&lt;br /&gt;And did i by any chance mention that i'm stressed right now? If not, then listen. IM STRESSED. &gt;.&lt; &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-7491163029988001936?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/7491163029988001936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=7491163029988001936&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7491163029988001936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/7491163029988001936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/02/grrr.html' title='Grrr!'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-8208832886808841266</id><published>2011-02-18T15:11:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-02-18T15:31:32.592+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Let the good times roll.</title><content type='html'>This wedding, i.e, my cousin Nd's wedding, is officially crazy. Its been going on since forever and its going to end in two days. And my life's going to go back to normal again. I want it to, and I also don't want it to. Because its FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN! Super super super fun! =\ I've hardly slept this month. Im exhausted and tired and so sleep deprived. But I'm loving all of it. This time's memorable. &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I like kulfa alot. But Jalebi's too sweet. But I like it too. In controlled amounts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OOOOOOOOOOOOOO LIFE'S BIGGER. ITS BIGGER THAN YOU AND YOU ARE NOT ME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to take pictures of everything, all the time. Stupid memories. You can't save em like that. And the you kinda forget them. And its not fun anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought that I heard you laughing. I thought that I heard you sing. I think i thought i saw you try. BUT THAT WAS JUST A DREAM.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Aiwyeen hyper huee wi hoon. Heeeheee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes people are more annoying than i can handle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ballet is interesting. I want to watch Black Swan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Byebye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Im excited in a way though, for the quiet and boring days ahead. I'll get to blog more. &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-8208832886808841266?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8208832886808841266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=8208832886808841266&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8208832886808841266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8208832886808841266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/02/let-good-times-roll.html' title='Let the good times roll.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-8272266544884915868</id><published>2011-02-03T22:26:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T23:01:11.471+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Learning to breathe.</title><content type='html'>Yay. New blogpost. &lt;br /&gt;I just waited fifteen minutes for the net to start working in this stupid cafe, just so I could blog again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Oh, this road is long, this road is wide,&lt;br /&gt;It takes more than luck to last the ride,&lt;br /&gt;It takes strength and it takes courage to survive,&lt;br /&gt;And did someone ever say to you,&lt;br /&gt;"There's nothing bound in thought you cannot do?"&lt;br /&gt;Well, I've seen some things but not all of them came true.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have to go for a walk after this. Im trying to be all healthy and exercise-y. Today is exactly one month, that I've been away from home. &lt;br /&gt;What I've learnt these past few months is that, people are always going to doubt you, and your decision,your ability, and haha, in my case, sanity too. But you need to really really make your mind up about what you want and what you don't want. Because once you ask people for advice, they're going to pull you in all directions until you're lost. I'm not against asking people for advice, because I ask all my People for advice before I make a decision. But after i listen to everyone, I sit down and figure out what it is that I want. And then I go with whatever seems best. People can be so convincing at times, in making you think that you just made the biggest mistake of your life in making a particular decision. o.O But you gotta take the risk. Cuz Risks are fun, and they make you feel awesome. &lt;br /&gt;I sound a little reckless. &lt;br /&gt;Reckless is fun.&lt;br /&gt;I need to cut my nails.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;So I don't want to be the last, I don't want to be the first,&lt;br /&gt;Don't want to be alone with my thoughts tomorrow,&lt;br /&gt;And I don't want to be afraid, don't want to look away,&lt;br /&gt;I'm learning to breathe.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I need a new pair of jeans. And a black sweater. And a haircut. &lt;br /&gt;Soo much to do! I watched Avatar again last night. I had fun watching it. Naa'avi. Blue slithery things. I doodle all sorts of things on my notebook during lectures. Girls are so amused by that, I don't know why. Lol. They think I'm funny. Okay i'll tell you some of the things i've been said to, these past few weeks:&lt;br /&gt;- I like your nose.&lt;br /&gt;- You remind me of Goofy.&lt;br /&gt;- Dude you have a MAJOR randomness streak going on right now. [To which i told her that it was kinda permanent]&lt;br /&gt;- You're just like Olive. From popeye. &lt;br /&gt;- You're SOO funny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;o.O&lt;br /&gt;I think maybe i AM funny. I don't know. People are funny. And I am people too.&lt;br /&gt;This new phase of life is very new. But somehow, i'm doing fine. Im not suffocating or totally dying like I imagined I would. Im fine. It gets sucky at times, but I'm a survivor yo. B] . I don't know what I would be without my optimism. Heh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No I don't want to be the last, I don't want to be the first,&lt;br /&gt;I just need a hope and a light to follow,&lt;br /&gt;Like sailors look to stars to find their way home,&lt;br /&gt;I'm learning to breathe on my own.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;S1 said she's going to call me. So imma go now. Byee y'all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-8272266544884915868?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/8272266544884915868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=8272266544884915868&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8272266544884915868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/8272266544884915868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/02/learning-to-breathe.html' title='Learning to breathe.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-4160919231879740634</id><published>2011-01-31T22:00:00.005+05:00</published><updated>2011-01-31T22:47:40.013+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Damn shit choice.</title><content type='html'>A new post was so badly needed. I needed it. &lt;br /&gt;Okay first, Im in my hostel's netcafe, and youtube ain't working, and the only English songs i got here are from Backstreet boys and Ricky Martin. Thankyouverymuch. Oh, and I am listening to them. Sad much? =)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TUbyyoxUB4I/AAAAAAAAASg/S_knCULJwMM/s1600/pic..JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 231px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TUbyyoxUB4I/AAAAAAAAASg/S_knCULJwMM/s320/pic..JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568404941041829762" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's the folder with the english songs. =]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I'm free today. Had my stupid sub-stage today. Bluekh, lets not talk about that. I panicked last night, and then I realized how badly I need to get rid of this icky newly developed habit of going crazy before I have a big exam or a test. So yes, I'm working on it. &lt;br /&gt;Life's crazy these days. College, and hostel, and then my cousin Nd's wedding. The pre-wedding partayness is so awesome, and I hate it when I have to miss out on stuff because of my stupid college. =[ . Sigh. But still. I do get to partayy. &lt;:o]&lt;br /&gt;You know what made me realize how crazy my life is atm? The fact that I didn't notice how near February was. I mean. February starts tomorrow. [&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;LOL, BARBIE GIRL JUST PLAYED ON THE MEDIA PLAYER PLAYLIST. Come one barbiee, lets go partayyy&lt;/span&gt;]. And February is THE month. My birth month. With my Birthday in it. And I've been ignoring it. =\ . Imma turn 19 soon. I like 18 though. Its so neutral-ish. 19 seems old. I don't feel old or anything. I feel very very leetal. Weetle weetle girly. :&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay whatev.&lt;br /&gt;I'm on a Do-good streak. I feel like helping out everyone and be nice to them. For no big reason. Just like that. Nice? I think yes.&lt;br /&gt;I sat and ate a sandwich on the stairs outside. In the cold. With songs. A cat sat in front of me and made a stupid cute face, just so I'd give my sandwich to her. Pff. I ignored her. Gobbled up the sandwich, and then came here. &lt;br /&gt;I don't think about my home at all. Or I'd die. =] And I can't allow that to happen can I? &lt;br /&gt;I really really miss my blog. I don't get the time or the place for it. Grr. But I do try to update. And I've started a journal on my pc, that's in my room. I write in it daily. But its all in Notepad files, cuz I don't have internet there yet. Once I shift to my final room, I'll get a net connection and life will be better.&lt;br /&gt;I Love this song called 'The End' by Kings of Leon. I really like it. &lt;br /&gt;I feel like going on and on right now. But I gotta go to my room, and do some stuff. I'll sleep early today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s. A THANKYOU from my side goes out to all the awesome people who didn't forget my blog just because I was a wittle busy. *hands out free lollypops*&lt;br /&gt;My blog is so comfortable. &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-4160919231879740634?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4160919231879740634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=4160919231879740634&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4160919231879740634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4160919231879740634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/01/damn-shit-choice.html' title='Damn shit choice.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TUbyyoxUB4I/AAAAAAAAASg/S_knCULJwMM/s72-c/pic..JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-6454282853440820537</id><published>2011-01-17T21:43:00.004+05:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T22:16:19.591+05:00</updated><title type='text'>200th post. Belated.</title><content type='html'>I feel dreadful dear bloggieepoo. For neglecting you like this. I promised myself that I'd never turn into one of those people who ignore their blogs once their life gets busy. But I diiiiiiiiiiid. Sob. &lt;br /&gt;Okay whatev. I'm here now. And i just realized that my last post was my &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;200th&lt;/span&gt; post! =| Can you believe thaaat? And there were no celebrations and no pats on my back. -.- Sad. So I shall celebrate now. How shall I celebrate?&lt;br /&gt;In my 100th post, i wrote stuff about myself. Random tids and bits. I shall do it again. Feel honored, You!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay.&lt;br /&gt;So.&lt;br /&gt;Hi.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I can't ever keep my nails long. I'm not totally opposed to the idea of decently long nails. So I've tried growing them at times. But I always chip em off somehow. iFail. Everytime. So my nails are ALWAYS short. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I like lollypops. They're Fun. Raspberry and apple flavors are my favorite. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I have trouble believing things people have to say about things. Cuz people lie so often. Funny little people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* David Guetta reminds me of Ryan Gosling. Can't help it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I keep my money in a yellow and black wittle thing these days. It's a ladybird. But it ain't red and black. So I don't know. But its cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I Google everything. Words, phrases, sentences, entire paragraphs. Everything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I don't like sadness. And depression. I'm NOT going to be one of those people who get cozy in their black sadness and don't come out of it. I'm determined. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I hate self pity. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I have a thing for buying toothbrushes. I like new toothbrushes. :D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I'm almost certain that everybody, EVERYBODY i know has called me 'crazy', or 'pagal' once. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I'm shy. Haha. Yes I am =p .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Comments on my blog ACTUALLY make my day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* Nostalgia scares me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I really really like James Blunt these days. He sounds so genuine. All I need now is rain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I ALWAYS have to eat something sweet after I eat something spicy. Always.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I prefer water over cold drinks with food. Water trumps everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* DO YOU WANT MY PRESENCE OR NEED MY HELP? WHO KNOWS WHERE THAT MIGHT LEAD. &lt;3&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I cry at the end of movies. I like movies that not many people like. Pff. Whatev. They're not boring. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;* I'm a Piscean. And a true one i think. Really. I don't believe in Horoscopes though. But these Zodiac traits do make a lot of sense at times. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is that enough for today? I think it is. &lt;br /&gt;*Sigh*. I need to read sooo many blogs and comment on them. I don't have time. Grr. &lt;br /&gt;Today I wrote in my blog. Maybe tomorrow, I'll do the reading and commenting part. Yeah I will.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.s. THANKYOU Maryam for the blog award. I be do the award thing properly in the next post. :D &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-6454282853440820537?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6454282853440820537/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=6454282853440820537&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6454282853440820537'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6454282853440820537'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/01/200th-post-belated.html' title='200th post. Belated.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-338588378387638266</id><published>2011-01-10T17:21:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T17:28:19.643+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hostel. Day 1.</title><content type='html'>Today is my first day in this hostel. I like my room. But my room's nice. And I have a single room even though i'm in First Year. So i think the ladies on my floor hate me. But i don't know. Im trying to be sweet to everyone. People should like me. Thankyou.&lt;br /&gt;Lol. Im online from my hostel's 'Cyber Cafe'. Haha. Funny. But its nice. I mean. Whatev.Lol.&lt;br /&gt;I don't know many girls here. I have some friends, who're boring. I hope i meet new people. Please. Okay? Yes.&lt;br /&gt;I have a major test coming up. So soon. I know.&lt;br /&gt;I'll start studying tonight.&lt;br /&gt;Oooh. Okay. A girl is trying to sit on the chair next to me. So ima go now.&lt;br /&gt;MORE UPDATES LATER!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh and its so cold here. My hands are always numb. And there's plenty of space for walking. I just need new earphones now. Quick.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-338588378387638266?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/338588378387638266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=338588378387638266&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/338588378387638266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/338588378387638266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/01/hostel-day-1.html' title='Hostel. Day 1.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-6740507167569085395</id><published>2011-01-06T02:58:00.004+05:00</published><updated>2011-01-06T03:06:36.186+05:00</updated><title type='text'>moving away.</title><content type='html'>Ive been busy. My life's changing. Ive moved to lahore. Soon ill move to my hostel. My college aint bad. I think i'll adjust in due time. Its very pro-studies. Intense study. Things are crazy these days. Im busy. And im trying to mange everything at the same time. But its hard. The thought of being away from my family and my cute little home is killing. It makes me cry and i HATE it. I don't know how to handle that. I hate feeling this emotional.&lt;br /&gt;Ill update more later. Ima sleep now. College tomorrow.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-6740507167569085395?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6740507167569085395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=6740507167569085395&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6740507167569085395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6740507167569085395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/01/ive-been-busy.html' title='moving away.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-6434278692453777791</id><published>2011-01-01T21:10:00.001+05:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T21:10:58.460+05:00</updated><title type='text'>2011 etc.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Hello peepils.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I don’t really like writing in paragraphs, cuz I get carried away and then nothing makes sense. So even when i write in paragraphs, I’m actually kinda writing in points. Have you noticed?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Ahan. So. &lt;font size="4"&gt;2011 &lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;is here! *&lt;em&gt;does a happy little yay dance&lt;/em&gt;*&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I didn’t make any resolutions, because i mean, I don’t follow them anyway. Sooo. Okay. I hope this next year is great. There are going to be alot of changes, and alot of newness. I hope they’re for the better. I really do. I hope my life’s awesome this year. =D&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Ooo. And last night, after midnight, I had this joint phone convo with S2 and her friend M, and &lt;em&gt;her&lt;/em&gt; friend M, and s2’s other friend N. =o Hahha. It was fuuuun. And then M and M went. So me and s2 and N talked. Then N went too. So it was just me and s2. And s2 ditched me at 5 am. So. That was that. Hahah. But it was fun.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Eeeeeeee. s1 just asked me to make coffee again. My right hand will fall off from all the coffee beating. And no, I won’t make coffee in the coffee maker. I don’t like it. Not yet.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Now, for the &lt;font size="4"&gt;AWARD! &lt;/font&gt;&lt;font size="2"&gt;*&lt;em&gt;does another yay dance*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh4.ggpht.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TR9SDRND5iI/AAAAAAAAASY/ggWYsaYcXxs/s1600-h/versatileaward1%5B3%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; border-top: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="versatileaward1" border="0" alt="versatileaward1" src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TR9SENfLcGI/AAAAAAAAASc/o21vHjsERh4/versatileaward1_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="176" height="176" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;YAYYYY. Maryam from &lt;a href="http://maryamreza.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Here I Am&lt;/a&gt; passed this one to me cuz she be think my blog be FUN :D . Thankyou you! &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Soo. You’re supposed to write 7 random facts about yourself under this. BUUUT. I think the post will stretch more than i want to, if i do that. SO, instead, ima write those facts later. In my 200th post. Okay? For now. Ima pass this to 7 more bloggers.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://allycious-ally.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;&lt;font size="3"&gt;Ally&lt;/font&gt;&lt;/a&gt;- Because i love her blog, i do!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://roshni1625.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Roshni&lt;/a&gt; – Because I find something interesting to read everytime i visist her blog. And because she leaves me nice comments :D&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://redarabiandust.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Battery Acid&lt;/a&gt; – Because I love the music she has on her blog, and because she’s IMAGINATIVE :D .&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://quillemissions.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Quill Emissions&lt;/a&gt; – Because I love reading all its posts. Because they’re SO well written!&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://awaisaftab.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;A myth in creation&lt;/a&gt;- Because it makes me think. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://andanotheremoblog.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;uzme&lt;/a&gt; – Because the blog’s fuuuuuuny.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://sidrahmoizkhan.blogspot.com/" target="_blank"&gt;Sidrah Moiz Khan&lt;/a&gt; – Because she thinks I'm awesome.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;*Phew*. Ima eat some noodles now. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;BYE :D&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-6434278692453777791?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/6434278692453777791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=6434278692453777791&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6434278692453777791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/6434278692453777791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2011/01/2011-etc.html' title='2011 etc.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh3.ggpht.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TR9SENfLcGI/AAAAAAAAASc/o21vHjsERh4/s72-c/versatileaward1_thumb%5B1%5D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1708532826039807839</id><published>2010-12-29T03:14:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T03:19:58.548+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Fireworks.</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://lh3.ggpht.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TRphXJVYYjI/AAAAAAAAASQ/4SEf_JcwOLg/s1600-h/DSC04520%5B4%5D.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="border-bottom: 0px; border-left: 0px; display: inline; margin-left: 0px; border-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; border-right: 0px" title="DSC04520" border="0" alt="DSC04520" align="right" src="http://lh5.ggpht.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TRphX1CzadI/AAAAAAAAASU/rPdFshlCafg/DSC04520_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800" width="240" height="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Do you ever feel like a plastic bag       &lt;br /&gt;Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?       &lt;br /&gt;Do you ever feel, feel so paper thin       &lt;br /&gt;Like a house of cards, one blow from caving in?&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I'm yawning, but I ain't sleepy. I've been watching random fashion shows online. Its -1 degrees here. I'm glad. I don't like it if winters don't get too wintery.    &lt;br /&gt;My dad got my old phone fixed. My Nokia 6131. It was my first phone. The first phone I bought for myself. And i still love it. I loooooooooove it. Its my baby.     &lt;br /&gt;Now that I've seen so many runway shows. I feel like buying some new clothes. Some awesome new clothes. But its 2:25 am so. Whatev.     &lt;br /&gt;N just came online. We talked for three hours last night. Fun. Haha.     &lt;br /&gt;Let me turn on some songs.     &lt;br /&gt;Ok done.&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Do you ever feel already buried deep?      &lt;br /&gt;Six feet under screams but no one seems to hear a thing       &lt;br /&gt;Do you know that there's still a chance for you       &lt;br /&gt;'Cause there's a spark in you&lt;/em&gt;?&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;Queen has the kind of songs that I'd like to listen to when I'm high. Like actually High. I'd like to have those songs in the background. But I don't know how it feels like, being high. I'd like to get high sometime. Fun.    &lt;br /&gt;I feel like doing SO many new things. But I'm stuck in this stupid static life where weird irrelevant things are more important. Why can't we all be stupid and reckless and mess our lives up? :D That'd be fun. *Sigh*     &lt;br /&gt;    &lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;'Cause baby, you're a firework      &lt;br /&gt;Come on, show 'em what you're worth       &lt;br /&gt;Make 'em go, oh oh oh      &lt;br /&gt;As you shoot across the sky yy yy&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;I feel like going out every night. Kia stupid baat hai. But I want it. Can't help it.    &lt;br /&gt;N talked about Pringles last night. So i started craving for them. Then I asked dad to bring some for me. And he did. Yuuuuuuuuum.     &lt;br /&gt;I make coffee everyday. For myself or s1 or dad. I mean. I'm tired of making coffee all the time. I don't mind making it for dad though. He's cute, so he's forgiven.     &lt;br /&gt;There's some uncertainty in my plans these days. I'm hating it. I just want things to be stable and still so that I can move on with my life. Argh. But I don't know how things are going to work out. &lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Maybe you're reason why all the doors are closed      &lt;br /&gt;So you could open one that leads you to the perfect road       &lt;br /&gt;Like a lightning bolt, your heart will blow       &lt;br /&gt;And when it's time, you'll know.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;  &lt;p&gt;p.s. I CANNOT believe I quoted Katy Perry. I hate her. But this song's stuck on my mind. .___. I can't stop listening to it tonight.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1708532826039807839?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1708532826039807839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1708532826039807839&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1708532826039807839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1708532826039807839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2010/12/fireworks.html' title='Fireworks.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh5.ggpht.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/TRphX1CzadI/AAAAAAAAASU/rPdFshlCafg/s72-c/DSC04520_thumb%5B2%5D.jpg?imgmax=800' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-4640206653089272475</id><published>2010-12-27T03:39:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2010-12-27T03:44:30.901+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Queen more.</title><content type='html'>Why haven't i heard more Queen songs? They're great! &lt;br /&gt;I talked to N for an hour on phone. We laughed so hard. My eyes teared up. Fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WEEEEE ARE THE CHAMPIONS, MY FRIENDS,&lt;br /&gt;AND WEEEE'LL KEEP ON FIGHTING TILL THE END!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ima sleep now. &lt;br /&gt;Its late.&lt;br /&gt;More later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recommend me more great songs.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-4640206653089272475?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/4640206653089272475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=4640206653089272475&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4640206653089272475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/4640206653089272475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2010/12/queen-more.html' title='Queen more.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-204081246917627527</id><published>2010-12-23T21:39:00.004+05:00</published><updated>2010-12-23T22:06:36.772+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Piano press.</title><content type='html'>I like Shia Lebeouff. Whats the spelling? Let me google it. Oh. It has a single f. Shia LeBeouf. &lt;br /&gt;I went to the bazaar with mom today. To buy clothes and shit. I bought this pretty Black and white comforter, but mom thinks its way too thin for these winters so she's going to return it tomorrow. =[ I don't want her to. Lets see. &lt;br /&gt;Last night was weird. It was attacking me. I had this REALLY bad headache. And i couldn't sleep, and I was cold and warm at the same time. And bas. OmG. And my body was tired and ache-y. So i turned on my cellphone's Online Radio, and searched 'Piano'. And there was this channel, called.. okay i forgot what it was called. But it was all about piano instrumentals. So i just put that on. And i went to sleep while listening to it. Yay Piano.&lt;br /&gt;When things get too cute, it makes me sad. &lt;br /&gt;I hate Pitbull. Its like pollution. If a song is a Clear fresh morning, then Pitbull in it, is like smoke and trucks honking. It makes my ears bleed.&lt;br /&gt;iExaggerate.&lt;br /&gt;Okay. &lt;br /&gt;At times Im so awesome, its unbelievable. &lt;br /&gt;And no, Barney stinson ain't awesome. He lies. &lt;br /&gt;Im a Barney hater. &lt;br /&gt;Heh.&lt;br /&gt;Im watching WallStreet right now. Money never sleeps. Its fun. But I don't really get the whole Money lingo. Stocks and leverage and whatnot. =[ Never have. Never will.&lt;br /&gt;I love my blog you see. &lt;br /&gt;I wonder when i'll finally get the guts to change the template. =[ &lt;br /&gt;Grr. Okay. Bubye. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My post titles are getting randomer by the day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-204081246917627527?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/204081246917627527/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=204081246917627527&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/204081246917627527'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/204081246917627527'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2010/12/piano-press.html' title='Piano press.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-1006226713627891936</id><published>2010-12-20T03:23:00.002+05:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T03:44:29.747+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Multicoloured sweater.</title><content type='html'>Eventful day today. Not really. Well. I got woken up at 2 pm. I went down. S1 and S2 were having Garlic bread and mashed potatoes. I joined in. Ate. Ran around the house until s2 finally left for Lahore. Slept. Slept. Woke up. Took a shower. Made green tea. Went to the terrace. Walked for over an hour, with music. Felt energized. Came downstairs. Made coffee for dad and s1. Came upstairs. Started making s1's practical copy that she can't make herself because she's busy in her proffs. Watched Se7en, the movie. Loved it. Watched another movie on tv. With Meg Ryan and some French guy. Still making the practical copy. Watching the trailer of 'The tourist' for the billionth time on Tv. They just won't stop playing it. Ive read it's reviews online by the way. They all say its shit. So sad. Poor Johnny boy. =[ . &lt;br /&gt;My back's tired. Of sitting constantly. Im hungry again. I want cheese. A special kind of cheese. I don't know what kind though. Its just in my imagination. Lol. Now im going to watch Legally Blonde. Because thats whats on tv right now. Elle Woods is so pink. Takes special kind of hardwork to stay that pink. &lt;br /&gt;I need to go abroad. Really, I do. Why does it have to be so expensive? It confuses me. Its unfair to me. Okay i'm hungry. There's nothing to eat. &lt;br /&gt;Grr.. &lt;br /&gt;My handwriting is nice. Its true.&lt;br /&gt;MAKE ME SOME FOOD, YOU!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-1006226713627891936?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/1006226713627891936/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=1006226713627891936&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1006226713627891936'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/1006226713627891936'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2010/12/multicoloured-sweater.html' title='Multicoloured sweater.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-226951110809771161.post-650137882879351234</id><published>2010-12-17T00:14:00.003+05:00</published><updated>2010-12-17T01:33:18.952+05:00</updated><title type='text'>Create a post. Ahan.</title><content type='html'>This stupid Create a Post window is open since so long. My minds buzzing with a billion things, thoughts, things, right now. But I can't seem to write. Why's that? Tell me. You moron.&lt;br /&gt;I don't call people morons. I don't know why I just said that.&lt;br /&gt;Theres something very pleasant and amazing about fireplaces, and good conversation. I want a fireplace. The one with logs and everything.&lt;br /&gt;I tried on, like, seven nail polishes last night. All s1's. None looked good. Except for the nice blood red-ish one. That was better. I've realized that I really love some shades of red. I like the Rusty dark red. I like the weird bloody dark red. I also like the nice not so dark, warm red. The colour of my red scarf. Its amazing.&lt;br /&gt;I like words. I'd like to know all the words there are. &lt;br /&gt;Why do people think its cool to drink really strong coffee? Black coffee and the sort? I mean, why? How does that make you cooler? &lt;br /&gt;Yesterday the lights went out for 15 minutes. Random. When they went out, i thought there was going to be a bomb blast. Because it has happened before, twice. Lights go out, and BANG! And then silence. Its scary.&lt;br /&gt;I'm not easily surprised. &lt;br /&gt;Okay, so tell me. Whats wrong with people? Why do they have to believe everything other people tell them? Or what media tells them? Or what someone-who-heard-something-from-someone-else tells them? Why don't they think about anything? Or doubt anything? Or google anything? Haha. Google. But no, seriously. WHY DON'T THEY? &lt;br /&gt;I don't believe things easily. One shouldn't. A little skepticism doesn't hurt anyone.&lt;br /&gt;s1 has this weird Firefox Persona and its animated. I hate it. I've changed it twice but she changes it back again. Grr.&lt;br /&gt;I don't like associating myself with things that the whole world is talking about. Fame ruins everything. Most of the time. When something gets famous, everybody starts talking about it. Half of them don't even know why. They just want in on all the hype. So i start hating it. It just ruins it for me. -.-&lt;br /&gt;I love food. I mean. I need a friend. Who loves to cook. And who'd keep making the YUMMIEST dishes for me. And i'd eat em all. =[ I really need that friend. &lt;br /&gt;I need to do SO many things. I need to enjoy more. &lt;br /&gt;Okay bye. Enough talking for tooday. Not reallly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/226951110809771161-650137882879351234?l=psychrant.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/feeds/650137882879351234/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=226951110809771161&amp;postID=650137882879351234&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/650137882879351234'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/226951110809771161/posts/default/650137882879351234'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://psychrant.blogspot.com/2010/12/create-post.html' title='Create a post. Ahan.'/><author><name>The Me.</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07337974820830279376</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='19' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_STvz8c1zzcM/SZnl552xh4I/AAAAAAAAAAM/UDnwaWf6AMg/S220/asa.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry></feed>
