You Give Me Fever...

I hope people aren't going to be misled by the title of this post. I'm not going to be talking about a hot, sexy, possible future life partner that Elvis had in mind when he sang this song in this post; but about my upcoming examinations that begin in umm.. less than a few days. They are one of those final-end-of-school-exams-that-your-whole-life-and-career-depend-on kind of exams. I should definitely be more paranoid about them, but I can't be arsed to care. Alright, I'm lying here, I do care.

Last night just less than a week before my Maths exam I realized I can't integrate. Seriously, I have no imagination for calculus, even though I've been doing it for the last three years. I remember a conversation I had in class with my teacher three years ago while he was attempting to teach us the basics of calculus.

Teacher: "Imagine a line on a graph, parallel to the X-axis."

(Now it was fine till here. I mean, I have imagination problems but, its not too hard to imagine random lines floating about on an axis)

Teacher (continues): "Now imagine this line moving around the X-axis, making a cylinder around the axis because it's moving so fast."

(Hmm, this required a lot of effort. Usually it takes me ages to imagine normal three dimensional cylinders. To imagine a moving line making one was and it still is rather difficult.)

Teacher: "Now imagine if I wanted to find the volume of this cylinder."

(At this point, your beloved narrator, Pan couldn't bear to remain silent anymore, her imagination did have some kind of mathematical boundaries after all and she had to speak up.)

Pan: "Why would a line want to revolve around an axis?"

Awkward Silence

Teacher: "So, we were discussing how to calculate the volume then... thanks to integration we have a formula..."

(Therefore, my rather interesting question has remained unanswered ever since and had dreadfully affected my calculus abilities)

Anyways, this is probably going to be my last post for a while because I have exams till the 19th of May. I will still probably be reading all my favourite blogs on my sidebar and commenting, but I don't think I'll have time to post anything new. After all, pretending to study does require colossal effort.

Some days ago TPF and I watched the movie version of The Importance of Being Earnest. I agree, the movie did give the words 'Creative License' a new meaning, but I have to admit, I enjoyed it. Although, I may be highly biased in my opinion because it is my deep and profound belief that anything with Colin Firth has to be beyond brilliant. (Sidenote for Fangirl Rant - Oh my god, have you seen him? I mean, he's not as physically attractive as other Hollywood actors, but that's what makes it so endearing, doesn't it? Plus, he has this mysterious Mr Darcyish aura around him that makes him so very attractive. Anyone would think that this Mr. Darcyish aura would type cast him as an actor in movies (like Hugh Grant for example), but no, he's done quite a varied range of movie roles, ok, I'll just stop now :D) Surprisingly Rupert Everett made quite a good Algy.

Judi Dench as Lady Bracknell was hilarious. She is a very good actress after all. Although, she's very theatrical and therefore, it doesn't always come out well in cinema. The movie changed the order and locations of practically all the scenes of the play, but kept the almost all the language from the original play. Therefore, the humour is not lost. I would recommend people to read the play before actually watching the movie because Oscar Wilde definitely should be read at least once in your lifetime. Its like some sort of a law. Here is a link here to some memorable Earnest quotes.

I have absolutely no idea how I've managed to include Calculus, Colin Firth, upcoming examinations, Oscar Wilde, Maths, Judi Dench and The Importance of Being Earnest in one post, hey, its all in there, isn't it?

New York New York

I can't be bothered to think of something interesting to to write about, so I might as well do another photo post. Last summer I had gone to stay with my cousins in New Jersey, I also happened to visit New York City several times. As a first time visitor to NYC and America itself, I have to admit, I was enamoured. Coming from a developing country and then living in Europe, I can probably say that I've seen a lot of things. But woah, tall buildings and bright lights are something I that hadn't seen either in India or in Europe. I felt like as if I was in a Hollywood movie attracted to the bright Broadway lights. And of course a huge city like New York is full of garbage bins and signs, which hopefully people might know I absolutely adore.

So here are a few ahem.. interesting signs I encountered. I personally agree with the first sign, but that's just I'm terrified I'm going to die of passive smoking you see.

This one below was funny. I'm not sure if everyone can read it, but I must say its innovative.

I found the next two signs on the middle of a crowded 5th Avenue. I must say, the New York traffic control department has an interesting sense of parking humour.

So is 'The Box' an American traffic term I don't understand?

For some reason I found this sign that was put next to Central Park rather sweet. I mean, its got a little, red heart and everything.

Hmm, I'm not sure what this meant, it wasn't a poster but a sign that was put up everywhere on this one street I was walking on. Its a rather interesting psychological technique of overcoming fear.

If people were wondering how expensive this shoe shop was...

And finally just another one I shall leave you with. I liked the 'No Money Available' bit below.

I refuse to put up my garbage box collection from NYC because of the sheer amount of interesting bins in the city available for photography. I have a beautiful collection of Times Square images too. As I mentioned before, I was enamoured, all I could keep on doing every time I visited Times Square is take pretty pictures oh which I'm going to post just one. Growing up in a huge city myself makes me rather fond my big cities. I can completely understand why most other people don't like them too much and how terrible they are to live in, but you have to admit, they have their own charm, that is if you like skyscrapers, billboards, movie posters and large crowds.

Its A Conspiracy...

I’m sure (well, I hope) everybody has been wondering about my mysterious disappearance the last week. The whole of last week has been misery filled because of a conspiracy led by the dark and deep unknown forces against me. I have been miserably ill. I conveniently fall ill the last day of school and not only that, my Internet also conveniently decides to break down on the same day. Conspiracy much? As a result I’m stuck at home all day, all alone with nothing to do and am left with two terrible options – Italian television or exam revision. Between the two of them I don’t know which is worse, alright its definitely Italian television. Yes people, that has been whole of my last week. But I was strong, I didn't let fate get better off me. No, I couldn't do that. If fate wanted me to study, I couldn't let it win, could I? I spent the better part of most of last week re-reading Mrs Dalloway, which was much better than I remembered it to be.

Coming back to my prolonged illness. The cause behind this long illness is solely TPF. That little piece of bird poo is so definitely going to pay for this. She coerced me, against be better opinion to go for a walk, on a cold, cold day, in the rain, without an umbrella and eat a big ice cream. And if this wasn't enough, the same evening she made me wait for her at a bus stop, where it was really breezy for 25 whole minutes. I can’t believe she doesn’t feel guilty about this. The least she can do after all this is be sympathetic, but no, she continues to be her terrible little self and laugh at my illness. My throat still feels as if someone is raking it from inside, and if I blow my nose once more, I’m going break a few capillaries. Fine, bad visual images apart, I feel terrible and the whole world is against me.

Everytime I fall ill, I always end up following a predictable 'sit-com' routine as I like to call it. I end up staying in my night-dress all day long watching my old Disney DVDs wearing a big, old, smelly sweater that has a big tear in umm... a rather compromising place at the front. Its so old that the weaving is almost coming out from the sides and it has become completely see-through. My mum wanted to throw it away two years ago, but I absolutely adore it. Its my 'illness sweater'. I also end up having tissues lying in every room of the house in the weirdest of places that I don't remember putting, until my mother gives me an ultimatum to clean them up. My hair is always terribily dirty throughout my 'sick period', and I refuse to wash it or let it down to see how dirty its become. I feel completely and utterly decadent, fat, ugly and strangly happy.

Therefore, this week I've ended up having a red swollen nose, dirty hair, torn clothes, tissues spread around the house and everything else that a decently ill sit-com star needs. Now all I need here is any random, attractive, young man knocking on my door, telling me he loves me regardless of my physical condition and agreeing to marry me, so that we can live happily ever after for the rest of our lives. But no, nothing of that sort has happened yet and I suspect all I've ended up doing is getting on my mother's nerves because of my incessant whinging.

PS: Sympathy comments are definitely welcome, anything else is going to be moderated. I'm sulky when I'm ill, as Mr Poop can probably tell :)

A Nostalgic Trip Down the Memory Lane

Oh god, the last two days have been terrible because Quincy (my dysfunctional computer) has not been working properly. No, its not Quincy’s fault, he’s been brilliant as usual, but the internet at my home wasn’t working. I don’t know how people in the other parts of the world live but I feel lost without the internet and my computer. Right now all I have is my Dad's laptop with a Dial Up connection, which very slow and for some reason it prevents me from commenting on other people's blogs. So if anyone is wondering why I refuse to comment on their posts, its not because I hate you all, but I just can't till I get my normal connection back. It almost feels as if someone’s take a part of my soul from my body and made it into a umm... Horcrux. Alright, strange metaphors aside, the whole of last week as been a very odd period of my life.

Yesterday was the last day of school and that’s it, I’ve finished it forever. The problem is that I can’t grasp the concept that its all over, just like that. I’ve been here for the last four years and I have to admit, I’ve been looking forward to getting out here for a long time now. Now that the time has finally come, I can’t imagine life without it. When I came here four years ago, this school was the worse thing that happened to me. It was terrible, I disliked it from the bottom my heart, and couldn’t wait until the day I graduated from it. But now that the moment has finally come, I don't really want to leave. I not sure whether I want this change in my life. I’m excited about University and the future but at the same time, I’d like to hold on to the life, place and people I was used to.

I’m also a strange person when it comes to crying; I cry extraordinarily easily for books and movies, I mean, I even get teary eyed for cartoon movies and television adverts. But when it comes to things like funerals or serious issues, I just can’t cry. Its not because I feel less sorry or less emotional than most other people because what’s happening around me, its just that I can’t do it. Sometimes I feel really guilty about the fact that I don’t cry because it makes me look like a cruel cold hearted bitch, which I am (hopefully) not. I’m as emotional about leaving school as anyone else, but yesterday when almost everyone I knew cried and I didn’t or couldn't, I felt terribly guilty about it.

I know its not really over yet. We still have our final final exams in May, then there is the Graduation Day Ceremony in June and the Prom, but its never going to be a 'proper school day' again. No English lessons with Dave; no discussing life, philosophy, books, movies and everything else apart from biology with my Bio teacher; no rolling my eyes over the incompetence of my Chemistry teacher or wondering how is it physically possible for someone to have hair on the top of their nose; no Maths lessons with my teacher’s blatant favoritism for me; no finding out ‘teacher gossip’ in Italian class from my teacher; no arguing with TPF in Economics or making fun of my Eco teacher, who is just a few years older than us; no dreaded trips to AKB’s (university counselor) office; no bitching about people with friends during lunch; no walking around the football pitch checking out guys in breaks; no fantasizing over Dave’s personal life; no chatting up the Computer teacher for colour printing; no sneakily using the photocopy machine; no long bus trips to school with my ipod or forged late excuse notes, no coming back home every evening with Marry, TPF and Harry; no joking or discussing Buffy with the Fat Midget (PE teacher) or having Philosophy lessons with my school principal on whom I have developed a crush of sorts. But most of all, no familiar environment around me that I had slowly gotten used to. School was a place where people knew what I was like, a place where I could be comfortable in because my familiarity with it and now I'm off to University with thousands of other people who don't know me and definitely don't care.

Yes, whatever qualms I may have against my school or the people in it, the fact still remains that I’m going to miss it. I don’t have any possible rational explanation behind my thoughts or emotions, but that’s how it is.

On a lighter note, the last day of school was seriously fun, and I leave TPF to add in the details about it in her next post because thinking about my antics makes me blush. I bear hugged my weird Maths teacher, and am never going to hear the end of it from people.

The Year of the Party

As the title of the post says, the scholastic year of 2005 - 2006 has been the 'Year of the Party'. Most of the people in my grade (including me, of course) turned 18 this year. The coming of age in Italy is always celebrated with a drunk night out in a disco. So this year, I've been out to several birthday parties in some of the best nightclubs in the city. Yes, one of those nights did involve the infamous 'vintage' incident that all my silly friends keep referring to. (If people have no idea what I'm talking about, please don't ask because I refuse to talk about it for fear of losing whatever little dignity I have in the blogosphere)

Last night was one of those nights. I have to admit, I can never make up my mind about whether I actually enjoy these disco nights. It all comes down to the music and the shoes I'm wearing really (and the level of alcohol in the blood stream of people around me!). What I can never understand is why women have to shower, wash their hair, put on make up, wear tight fitting uncomfortable clothes and shoes that damage your feet for about a week before going to a party where guys wear jeans, sneakers, a shirt, tousle up their hair and look really um..forgive me for using the term, hot.

Well rant aside, it was fun last night. It was Bad Hair Year's 18th birthday. She is known as Bad Hair Year because she's been experimenting with various hair colours this year that make her hair look really bad. As you can probably see, I don't care much about Bad Hair Year, she's just a weird person. I mean, what kind of a 18 year old has an ugly, hairy, smelly 30 year old boyfriend? But hey, it was a party, our hypocritical selves couldn't have missed that, however indifferent we may be to Miss Bad Hair Year.

That reminds me, TPF finally listened to me for once and let me braid her pretty hair. It looked fabulous, thanks to me! I looked like a prostitute, according to me. I'm the most prudish person I know when it comes to clothes. It took ages for both my parents to convince me that my skirt wasn't that short and my top wans't deep enough for me to be laballed as a umm..harlot. Seriously, if my own mother is telling me that my skirt which I think is short is not that short, it must mean that there is something wrong with me.

The party which was supposed to start at 11.30 according to the invitation began at midnight because everybody apart from me of course, was late. I detest people who are late *cough*TPF*cough*. The bartender was a horrible, horrible person who is so going to go to hell. She put extra alcohol in Marry's drink, and since she felt guilty about that, she decided to put none in ours. As a result, TPF and I, both ended up drinking lemonade and mint and Marry ended up drunk. I'm so glad Marry doesn't read my blog, otherwise she would probably kill me for mentioning her state of intoxication on the internet. You see, she goes into denial about these things.

Highlights of the party included an awkward conversation with a person who I used to be very good friends two years ago and then we basically just drifted apart. I saw her last night after about 7 months and it was rather uncomfortable. Then the 'vintage skirt' girl, who was also for the party (jokingly) told me not to defile her skirt again. Oh my god, why do people have to keep getting that incident up all the time? Why can't we just bury it in our memories and never bring it up again? The night also included TPF getting highly jealous about Juzie (her not-so-secret crush) dancing with everybody; but her, attractive random male asking me whether I wanted to dance with him and me saying no to him because I had to take a drunk Marry to the bathroom (I'm such a good friend!), the stupid males in my grade throwing reminants of their cocktails at people, me ending up with strawberry cocktail in my hair and spending the best part of two Madonna songs washing it out in the men's bathroom (the women's bathroom was locked because I think people were smoking dope in there), me almost dying of passive smoke because of the smoking of ungodly substances going around, two guys coming in the women's bathroom and asking TPF, Marry and me whether we had any cocaine for them to sniff and then getting annoyed about the fact that we didn't have any, me silently gloating over my sober condition while looking at a random girl throwing up outside the disco as we were waiting for a taxi. Ah, the joys of being a teenager!

So one would wonder what time I got home. It was at 3.30 am (I think its is the latest I've come home this year) and the first thing I did after getting home was wash my hair for the second time in six hours because of the strawberry cocktail. Seriously the bar woman is going to suffer, I mean, when I went there for drinks she told me that I couldn't have my Cosmopolitan because she didn't have any strawberry syrup, now I'm just wondering how it got on my hair then. I got up at 10.30 this morning, which is pretty late according to my standards because I can't sleep till late like most people and had a splitting headache, which almost felt like a hangover, except for the fact that it wasn't a hangover because I hadn't consumed any alcohol.

On an unrelated note, I am now the proud owner of a beautiful black Penguin edition of The Brothers Karamazov. People who frequently read this blog might know how obsessed I am with book publishers. I can't stop gushing about it and sniffing it. Alright, I shouldn't lie, I have also been hugging it all morning. But its beautiful!

Evolution

So this is my long awaited evolution post. Alright, its not really long awaited. But Nitin just reminded me about it a few days ago and since he was interested, I thought, why not.

We were studying Evolution in Biology a few weeks ago and my teacher was explaining the different theories and evidence there is that could give us a possible answer about how we have managed evolve into the people we are today. My snarky self couldn't resist from finishing his sentence, "...and even with all this evidence, there's a whole bunch of people who actually very firmly deeply believe that we've been been dropped down on the earth just as we are now from the glorious heavens above." Well obviously after this it was his duty as a teacher to tell me not to be disrespectful and dismissive towards the beliefs of other people. Ah, but I being the terrible rebel as I am found myself with the need to justify my statement to him and explain my argument (We're just a class of 4 people, nobody really cares about Biology much!)

*begin rant*

I'm not what people call a narrow minded person. I like to think of myself as follower of liberal thought. If somebody has a set of beliefs, I don't think it is my right to dismiss them, but I would like to think it is my right to question them at least. Where evolution is concerned, I admit that there are a lot of theories that are trying different means to understand how life first began on the earth, how human beings came into being.

If you tell me we exist due to the theory of panspermia, I can understand it. Its got its evidence agreeing with it and even more evidence rejecting it and therefore it is something I can consider. If you tell me we're all come from clay or tell me about the RNA world hypothesis, I'm fine with it. There is a scientific thought process that has gone behind the RNA world hypothesis that may or may not be true. Again, I don't mind accepting it. If you tell me that before Darwinian evolution there was another kind of evolution involving intermingling of genetic lineages and crossing over of genetic material between different species, once again I can accept it. But if you're telling me there are people who want to ignore all this evidence, ignore people who have given up their entire lives trying to find this evidence and these theories and just choose to believe that someone up there one day decided to play the toy maker and pop us all down because He felt like it, I refuse to agree with it.

The fundamental problem I have with Intelligent Design or Creationism is not the whole argument about the existence of a God, but the argument of faith. People believe in Intelligent Design because its the easy way out. But when other people are trying to explain it using different scientific, rational and empirical methods, all they do is just plainly dismiss these theories on their argument of faith, which does not have any logic or sense whatsoever. But ah, faith is not supposed to make sense, is it?

My blatant dismissal for Intelligent Design has got nothing to do with my belief or disbelief in God. God, according to me does not enter the pictures anywhere. If people say that they don't know who or what set The Big Bang into motion or what happened before it and attribute it to God, its an acceptable and even understandable thought process. If they say that it was God who created the first life forms on earth, whatever they maybe because we as human beings do not know or have this ability to know the purpose of our lives or creation, again its something I can understand and even accept. These are ideas I can't dismiss because we, as human beings don't know anything about them. So I, an insignificant human being don't have the right to hold an opinion about matters that are beyond my perception. I am well prepared to accept the fact that it could have been a supernatural force beyond our perception who we like to call God, who could have created everything.

We always like to atributte the incomprehendible (is this a word?) mysteries to God and that is something I can well understand because we human beings are curious people. We like to know how things work. When we don't have a possible explaination towards how something works, we need someone who we can attribute creation to and that is why the need of having a God like figure to worship is perfectly understandable.

Its not a classic I'm right and you're wrong situation, but more of a I'm not sure whether I'm right, but I think you may be wrong, but if you think you're right and give me resonable explaination about your views, I'll believe you. But if people refuse to even consider the possibility there all the collected evidence may be pointing towards the fact that Mr. Adam and Ms. Eve were fictional, I shall dismiss them. Maybe I sound like one of these people who refuses to see other points of view but in my warped up mind, my logic makes sense. Next thing people are going to find me doing is converting into flying spagetti monsterism because that's what I believe in and you see, my faith deep enough for me to discard whatever anyone else says.

*end rant*

On a more hypocritical and a lighter note, I'm really glad that someone did create fictional Mr. Adam and Ms. Eve because without them almost half of contemporary and classical fiction would not have existed. I don't think I could have lived in a world without Paradise Lost. I happen to care much more about literature than biology.

PS: Sorry for the wikipedia links, I know they're not the most reliable and unbiased of sources, but I really couldn't be bothered to search for information websites and I also happen to love wikipedia.

PPS: I also apologise for ranting but you can't say that I did not warn anyone.