Mutter, Stutter, Sputter, Stop

*Moaning Myrtle mode* Ohhhhhhhhhhh ennui is weighing over me like an ominous stormcloud pillow snuffing out all my energy! I'm bored, cranky, sleepy, too exhausted to even whine or type fast, and all because I couldn't sleep last night because of a certain person *bares teeth at nasty memory* being brought up, and my confused dream (in relation to that person) of Shekhar Kapur having seen Suchitra Krishnamoorthi at the age of 2 and deciding he was going to marry her! Weird, no? So I was tossing and turning all night and habitually checking my cellphone. It's this bizarre habit I've developed which is making me seriously consider therapy. From once in the night it's gone up to at least 3 times. AND I almost cried this morning, upsetting my poor mother. I'm getting quite good at the single tear ferocity. Which I hate.

Anyway me being cranky, tired and achy-breaky-heartish means that my period is once again heralding it's arrival! While I hate the emotional and physical discomfort of the couple of days to a week before its actually arrival, at least I know to be prepared to carry pads and pills around, and not risk my beautiful blood staining my beautiful white salwar (I'm wearing one today with a red and black bandhini dupatta and silver jhumkas and feeling so pretty - though I look drawn and pale! I still need to figure my style, and personally think I look the best in simple, non-fuss traditional daily wear). More than the stain it's the embarassment.

It's funny how a woman's blood is such a symbol for so many things. Well, of course it signifies she's a woman, and has a womb and whatnot, but she's also a figure of family honour by the very occurence of her period. For when she stops having it, particularly when unmarried - automatically meeans she's pregnant and thus a stain *sniggers* (Sorry, completely uncalled for and inappropriate place to laugh) on the family honour, resulting in abortion (IT IS TRAUMATIC, you sick guys who talk about it as if it is nothing), stoning, death. The intact hymen, or the 'rose of honour' as Marquez calls it, the stain on the conjugal bedsheet that in Saudi Arabia is a mark of a woman's virginity and is preserved by the inlaws as a mark of their daughter-in-law's character and upbringing *watch me roll my eyes as I tell you that it is becoming a vestigial organ. A lot of women aren't even born with one these days*

Speaking of the hymen being a vestigial organ, why was it ever there in the first place? Why the need for it to break? What did it protect vaginas from? Insects? Those fist-length cockroaches in the paleolithic age? GROSS! I'm sure the whole thing about it being a mark of virginity and hence honourable is a male construction and that actually wasn't why it was there (If God never wanted man to have sex in the first place - now I dont know if Adam and Eve had sex before Eve ate the apple - why would he make the situation unequal?)

Anyway, so I am all cranky partially because yesterday we were learning the first sahityam of Shankara Varnam, in which a girl is telling her best friend that her love, the king Bhaskara something of the Sun Dynasty, the setupati of the kingdom of Ramnad separating Bharatvarsha and Lanka, was incomparable. She was speaking of his face which was like the moon, of his skill in the music on the veena, in painting, his valour which wiped out his enemies just like that, his knowledge of the 4 vedas and 6 shastras, the man she was going to marry, and her poor friend had to agree! I was in tears it was so beautiful! And then immediately I thought that I was like the sage Nalayani, who had all these unrealistic expectations of men and who had to be awarded 5 husbands in her next life as Draupadi because all the qualities she desired could not possibly be found in one man. Then I thought why would I be special enough for such an accomplished man to want me? Imagine his expectations! Then I got depressed thinking that I'm fat, I don't seem to have accumulated any new knowledge, that I'm a regurgitative machine, that I'm never going to be enough to be satisfied with myself. Blah Blah. You know how it is - Once you pop you can't stop! I love Pringles.

DAMN my dad just callled. I bet I'm gonna get a lecture. I know what it's about. And he's trying to be affectionate, so I'll look bad if I lose my rather unpredictable temper *ominous look* Grrrr. I wish I were nicer, i really do.

What else is going on? I'm too tired and lazy to use my brains today and post anything substantial though there was ample noble material available on sepia mutiny. While I agreed, I just didn't have anything intelligent to say. Makes me wonder if I'm just a flash-in-the-pan. Or that everything's flowing downward. Anyway, here is a random link that I found while I was looking for the right spelling of paleolithic. It's about cute stone age houses! Xiaxue has some cute bunnies and some-so-shocking-it-hurts Thai girl tricks!!

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Isn't it weirdly serendipitous how one decides to open random links and read random posts and it seems like they needed to read about this topic? What shall i write about next? Any suggestions?