There are things that you should not put down on the internet. For the fear of it reaching the wrong sorta people (kidnappers, d'oh), academicians (future employers to reject me), potential arrange marriage candidates and I'm guessing miscellaneous (what's a list without miscellaneous?) others.

For the sake of that and my own integrity I will save everyone the trouble and use my other blog to talk about the following:

1) Dearth of dateable straight men in Delhi.
2) Dearth of unemployed women in Delhi.
3) Far too many people in the Delhi Metro, who don't constitute in the aforementioned categories.
4) Crushing on ALL possible research subjects.
5) Crushing on every moveable object which is not available.
6) Hating on those who are not replying to my calls and mails.
7) Succumbing down to not being a snob and being nice to people. To get the work done, of course.
8) Feeling stupid- the lingering doubt which has been around since eight grade, finally being solidified in the course of this dissertation.
9) Being equal parts afraid and motivated to push the boundaries (and get past this dissertation)
10) Perfecting the face which says, "I'd like to sell crab chips after I complete this thesis." Apparently, no one buys it.

It's my birthday in a month and all of my friends are going to be in different parts of the world. Apparently, that's what you get for being single and enjoying that status. There is a thing called heartbreak and this is what it looks like.

Heartbreak aside, I discovered horror in my inbox. No grotesque breakup poetry but found a mail in the sent folder, with the subject 'Tohfa Tohfa Tohfa Tohfa Laya Laya Laya Laya' addressed to my research subject. I didn't have the balls to see the content of the mail. If any other planet has a vacancy to move, I'd like to apply. Also, next time I ask the question, "WHY WON'T HE REPLY?" sing the damn Tohfa song out.

If you're my friend and you're travelling on my birthday, shame on you. Find a new blog to read. I'm planning your death mentally. Lol, jk. I'm probably writing you up on my schedule to ask for you to help me with my dissertation because what is this life even? I'm connecting with people I met way back in the day and being positively fucking nice to everyone. Also, apparently, it is socially unacceptable to not know how to do work at a bank. I am supposed to be ashamed about it. That's exactly what my tuition teacher told me after I failed my mock in Mathematics in tenth grade.



Started from the bottom and now we here, biyatch.