I was watching Aliens, when I noticed something. Ripley’s cat, which is a tabby, is called Jonesy. Now, why is that significant? It’s because tabbies are orange-ish red in colour. And Jonesy is the name of my favourite character in Stephen King’s Dreamcatcher. And Jonesy was a redhead. The movie adaptation happens to be one of my favourite movies. As is Aliens.

I needed a compass.

My father gave me a compass. It has a brushed steel casing, and the interior is black, with white and green lettering. I always knew that west lay to the right of my house, and east was between the house with the screaming baby (there has always been a screaming baby, even though they have lived behind us for almost a decade) and the pink house which has been under construction forever. Oh, I actually knew where north for what it was, and not just as a point between east and west. This was because my neighbour, a Feng Shui enthusiast. stopped me in the middle of the road when I was in my tenth standard, and told me to position my study table so that it would face the north. But north lay in the corner between the door and the wall, so that never happened. That was the first and the last time I ever spoke to him. He died last month. This month, they painted his house for the first time since I moved to Saltlake. Which was, what, fifteen years ago?
Anyway, I am going to make a survival kit of sorts, and the compass goes in first. I will carry the kit around with me at all times. You know, just in case apocalypse struck.

I love a movie where the girl tells the guy that his cheeks are adorable and that she wants to fuckin' chew on them, and where the guy tells the girl that her face is so pretty that he wants to smash it in with a sledgehammer. I think it's hilarious.
Also, I just noticed that the picture on this blog is very appropriate. I do have the habit of biting my lower lip a lot.

My Favourites

Here's a truism- there are certain things that you keep going back to. They are known as your favourite things. They don't actually have to be things, they could be people too. Then they become your favourite people. To exercise precision- there are certain things and certain people you keep going back to- they are known as your favourites. You don't always favour them above all others. For example, I am not always in the mood for The Beatles. My best friend and I don't always like talking to each other. But like the Beatles, I know that my need for her company will continue throughout my life. A thing becomes your favourite when it recognises a permanent need in you, and fulfills that need. I say permanent, because, quite obviously, people change, and concomitantly, their needs change. But you see, your favourites recognise early on that indelible part of you that refuses to change, no matter what. Which is why, it is important to have favourites, to like certain things above others, to love some people a little more. To distinguish the delible from the indelible.
Woohoo! Delible is a word!

Terror

My mum and I were on our way to pick my father up from Howrah Station. Usually, we just send the car, but we decided to tag along this time. I love these trips to the station for several reasons. I like long car rides and the time they give me to let my mind wander. And I like the Howrah Bridge. Even if I can’t see the river, I like looking at the rivets and bars that hold the bridge together. I look at a particular rivet and wonder how important it is to the entire structure of the bridge. Or a particularly small piece of steel, serving no apparent purpose, catches my eye. What would happen if that piece wasn’t there? Would the bridge collapse?
And thus my mind travels into the familiar (and strangely comforting) territories of mayhem and destruction. But today, when I was crossing the bridge, an odd thought skipped line and found its way ahead. What would happen if a plane were to crash headlong into the bridge right now?
I got an image of a plane diving nose first into the road, right in front of me. Would the bridge collapse? I should get out of the car then, and run back. But if the plane has crashed right in front of me, then I won’t have the time. Okay, we’ll make the plane crash a little ahead. I will then get my mum and me out of the car. Do we run backwards, or do we jump into the river? If the bridge collapses right away, then running back won’t help. Also, I don’t want to risk losing my mum in the crowd. So we jump into the water. Does my mum remember how to swim? More importantly, can she swim in her silk sari? I know I can, but I am not sure if I can swim and hold on to my mum at the same time.
And before I knew it, I was terrified.

I was browsing through Wikipedia as usual, when I decided to read up on the September 11 attacks. As I started reading, it struck me that the song I was listening to was Fiona Apple's version of Across the Universe. She was singing "Nothing's gonna change my world", and I was staring at a picture of a plane crashing into a tower.

We're rambling again.

I am constantly amazed by several things. Amazement is what I survive on- if I were to lose the ability to find commonplace things uncommonly strange, then I would, for the first time in my life, be genuinely bored. And I can’t imagine what a horrible feeling that must be. On the other hand, rather, on a separate and parallel hand, it is also a matter of amazement how I see that what I consider amazing is actually quite commonplace. This duality of the mind, the ability to see something from your perspective AND a general perspective, simultaneously, is also quite interesting, albeit commonplace. But we will talk about some other day.
But what I was saying is that I hope I never stop being amazed. I hope I always look out of the car window. To be amazed is to allow another slightly absurd idea into your mind. And I like the idea of collecting absurd ideas. It's, well, absurd.