There is no way to shut accounts in this misery-ridden realm. I'll have to delete individual blogs and then change a bunch of other things. Looks like Blogger is doing its bit for Global Bureaucracy Inc.

The love of my life has gotten far, achieved much. But she can never run away from the fact that she was mine to begin with. This she'll have to live with.

My dog is dead. Bailey died because she ate rat poison. I threw up thinking about it. I'm ill because i see her in my dreams. All the time. Can't even look at the garden or her pillar. She died and left me stricken. She was the laziest mutt in existence and i miss her. I can't function with this grief for much longer now.

Been a long day, very draining, curiously satisfying. I feel like i've made a difference to some peoples' lives. Some food, some caffeine, some gritted teeth. Bit lazy now, though i needs must study.

It says in the paper that 31% of teenagers in a certain country think they'll be famous someday. How fanciful. Imagine trying to remember 1/3 of a country's population because they've done/not done something/someone. It feels like they need a reason to feel crushed by disappointment, like some bizarre rite-of-passage.

Not too bad today despite having pushed a patient's kidneys almost too far. I'm intoxicated but i don't know what it is. Sleepy, tired, content.

I love Jasper Fforde. I'm probably a Blue. An unsecured minority. Will it be so uncertain, the shapeless, colourless future? I can't love Jasper Fforde AND still believe in status quo. I hate you, Jasper Fforde. You've put colourful ideas into my head, the hope of hope. Glory be.

I'm getting dumber. Considerably. Placebo theorists may not agree fully with the following but sometimes admitting that you're stupider than clay-tiara-makers is a relief. No more do you have the responsibility of coherent action (since there is some unexplored relation between thought and action). I can now be completely clueless about indoor tile laying etiquette and nobody, least of all mum, would think it daft. A toast to ignorance!

Thankful for the office's clerical incompetence. And their colossal stupidity. When a monument is erected in memory of bureaucracy let there be the names of all the staff that have assigned 9 interns at the same time to Casualty. Let their contribution to falling standards to medical care's education and training never be forgotten. They are cowardly and, so, enable others to follow their un-footsteps. May their tribe increase.

This is getting to be quite a habit. Dunno what i expected out of this... writing. I can see that it's helping.

I'm awash in human misery, suffering, and they are not mine. Other's sufferings are helping me stay sweet-tempered, calm even. What i vampire i'm turning out to be. How many others like me, regaling their not-so-angelic selves with immoral pleasure at the cost of someone else's pain.

Crying jag yesterday. Turned my coffee salty.

Little appetite till about 2pm, then started feeling better.

Why should i feel this drained? Bathroom tiles? Square feet 10.76= Square mt 1.

Tata Photon+ is doing nothing to help my temper right now, irritating. Making me feel retarded. Can't write with this much irk-dom flowing through my body.

Restlessness was what my original complaint was. Now i have a really bad case of Annoyance. It's eating through scraps of patience, tolerance, peace.

Perhaps, Zombieland isn't too bad this time of year.

Surprised myself with a new anger management technique. It's a coin trick. I roll a coin over my knuckles- this helps me focus on and control my tremors and consequently, the anger behind it. I remember doing this trick in high school but didn't realize i was doing it. Thinking back, i remember that on some days, i was very calm when the bus arrived late, or full, and some days, i wanted to tear someone's hair out. It was the coin, always the coin. I understand why a coin was chosen as Two-Face's prop.

I'm starting to wonder if i shouldn't start carrying a flashcard in my pocket, something that says 'remember that today will be a mixed bag, proceed with caution'.

Messed up with a simple mastoid dressing and was roundly, if deservedly, berated for it. Preceding that was an 'excellent!' for a job well done (if i say so myself). And after a spell of wallowing, came a treat in newer advances in imaging, which soothed me to no end. Following this, i was a picture in forbearance, calm and patient in explaining to the nurse the niceties of record maintenance. And on the ride back home, remembered that he reason i went to the ipd was to drop off the very files that are secure in my bag, where they scarcely belong.

Also, i forgot my phone at home, but took several frivolous tools to work. Was asked to be more organized by mum. I see her point. Starting to get rather absent minded. But i must admit that it is a vacation from zombiehood and rageville, and is very picturesque. I'll rest here briefly and then move on, onwards.

The trying part of today was biting my tongue. Trying not to rip off her head. Bovine, low-cunning cousin.

The stress of not yelling at her pushed me into a shouting match with an arrogant bastard down the road. After insulting his grandmother, and her private parts from which his mother sprung, i ended my tirade with a 'go to hell, you stupid good-for-nothing' in Kannada. Kannadam gelge, kannadam balge.

I need better outlet for all this rage. Something that prevents reprimands from mum, or atleast shields her sensibilities from my true nature.

Tired, keyed-up. Relieved in part that the manipulative behemoth is gone for now. I would have thought it impossible for me to forbear her presence another day. I'd say something unkind, but accurate, and that wouldn't pierce through her sodden intellect, save the little required to convey it to her parents, who would be very hurt. And that would hurt mum. Which would aggravate my condition. And so on. Vicious circle. Upsetting. Something i could do without. So i bit my tongue, even when i was so enraged my head throbbed.

A difficult few days. Brother received his third expulsion warning this academic year. Sent him to recuperate witt his guitar and books but no ipod. What is to become of him?

And the rudeness of mum's cousin is galling. More so because i've to bite my tongue when i'm around her to avoid offending her father and my mother's hospitality.

To round things off nicely, i've been accused of niceness and overt sincerity. Asked to keep my thoughts to myself. This is the one place they can't stop me from venting my spleen.

Mixed sort of day. Jittery for the most part, like i had caffeine running through my veins. Not too far from the truth as i did have 2 espressos today. Caught a diagnosis which might have gone unnoticed otherwise. Goofed up and made a patient an extra bill; got told off, which did no wonders to my mood. Busy hands means my mind is to busy to do a Marvin on me. Trying to keep busy is tough.

Until i've had my share of contentment, i'll have to keep on keeping on.

Good couple of days. Calmer. I haven't felt any worse than i do on most days. I didn't have to fake fraternal love.

Felt happiness, fleeting, fleeing. Palms are sore, can barely use my right thumb. Even that doesn't seem too bad. I'm riding a weird high.

Zombie Land continues. I'm not even making an effort to be numb now. It feels like my own special skin. I did come out of it briefly a few minutes ago, provoked my the thoughtlessness of the Y chromosome. Road rage is fairly in control too. Today was better than most days.

Tired, bruised. Can't focus too well on academic material. Shoulders hurt, even as i type this.

Discovered that the thing that kept me sane in the post exam interim was knitting. Surprised! I could feel some of the despair slipping away as i slipped away the stitches. Busy hands, happy mind.

Why do i feel that everytime i write about something that makes me happy, it gets jinxed? Paranoia is deeply unattractive. I don't want it. But it may be out to get me.

Trust issues are getting nowhere. I still have a long way to go before i let someone in. Even the family i live with is out of sync with me and i, with them. I don't have the luxury of being more interesting than i am. I've no energy left. Sapped by my mind's betrayal. It doesn't shut up. Yappity, yap. Anger on one end of the rope and fear on the other, i'm being drawn and quartered.

Rage was getting the better of me. So i've started avoidance. Everytime my mind wants to hurt someone in anger, i leave- home, college, cafe. THe problem is that it makes me look and act like a zombie. Mum's beginning to notice. She sees my eyes going dead mid-sentence. Moodswings are what it looks like. In truth, its anaesthesia. When the anger is suppressed, so is every other emotion. Leaving me a little more hollow. I feel nothing and that's just fine. For now.

It's been a good 3 years since i last trusted the Blue Nowhere. Everyday is getting to be a 'let me trust one person today' day. Why not this?

What happens when i post this? It floats around as a string of 0s and 1s, stored in someone's server like so much other detritus around me. To what end? It can't be to preserve my wisdom for posterity, I can see my thoughts haven't grown more profound with age. I still love Samit Basu. There are undiscovered shallows in me. Flirty, ditzy me.

This vague, obscure blog can be my septic tank. I'll dump all my anger here (there's a lot of it to spare) and then maybe i won't have to be angry or mistrust anything. Maybe.