let lemons be angry

It's okay that things are hanging like raindrops that decided not to fall after all. I just look up at the sky and back down at the dry earth again, enough times so it becomes less strange and more of a backdrop. But i'm aching for a thunderstorm, a decisive, lightning-bolt thunderstorm to come crashing down on my girltalks and half-eaten dry turkey sandwiches. You won't see me walking indifferently from shop to shop when that happens. It'll be like it was when i shocked sheila with my laughs and skips, only it will last all my life.

So yesterday was a day full of surprises, good and bad and highly questionable. One of the most remarkable realisations i made yesterday was that They gave me eczema. Now i notice how i start to itch only when i think of either of them. It gives me a good reason to erase them from my mind completely. There were happy things as well, such as all the earrings i sold at and after the flea market. But i came home to my father watching Westlife in concert on dvd and understood why, according to a study, people who listen to pop music are also the most prone to depression. The lyrics! Sappy and plain and obvious and annoyingly core-hitting. By the time they sang "Flying without Wings" i had forgotten all the things to be happy about and was moping in the shower, pretending not to listen.

But today, what with the amazingly talented meta musicians, and the inspiring shop space for rent in stanford house, and watching Friends in Canopy (although the stranger laughing behind us was kind of strange), and talking to aunty ailing properly on the phone about all the things that have been going on--i do feel like an adventurer again.