Complex Phraseology

I speak several different languages. I speak a different language with of the different species that I know and communicate with. There are so many of them – both languages and species- in this world…hell, in my own house!

Take my parents for example, they gave birth to me. I’m a part of them- 1) physically (I live with them and I’m a part of their family) and 2) physically (as in they produced me, yeah you know what I mean!). They’ve seen me grow in height, width and every other way possible and they still do. Then how is it that they don’t understand many of the most important things that I feel they should understand. By most important things I don’t mean clichéd teenage problems relating to boyfriends, smoking, drinking, absence of privacy blah blah blah. What I mean is, they don’t think the way I do – maybe they don’t even try. I know that I probably am, but I don’t mean to sound like an emo-child who is on awful terms with her parents because in my case, it’s nothing like that at all. I love my parents a lot- yeah they scream, shout, nag, crib, criticize, deny and make a big deal out of every minuscule thing possible- but that’s the way they are. They will never walk out on me no matter what I do, and I will never walk out on them –it’s a thought so outrageous that even thinking of thinking such a thought makes me laugh. – Then why the hell am I complaining about them not understanding me here? Well because they don’t, and just because I am!

It’s weird the way they know what I like to eat but not the colour that I would like to wear. Some of the things, or come to think of it, actually most of the things they tell me to do are just some kind of warped portrayal of meaningless and useless authority that makes sense to beings of only forty years and older. They think they understand and know everything, but they really don’t and the way they assume themselves to be correct is what really makes me angry, and when I protest, they call me a rebel, they call me out-of-control, they call me a psycho. Not that I’m saying that I’m not a psycho, but that’s beside the point here. The point is that assuming such things isn’t right and forcing your assumptions on others not right at all. They also have another problem with admitting their faults. I’m not trying to sound like a goody-two-shoe here, but hey, I admit all my faults, and I even admit that I do over-react very badly at times, but I can never get them to admit their faults, especially my mom. Man, she can kill some guy and say “yeah so what, what’re you going to do about it huh?!”………….Trust me, it’s not as cool as it sounds. It’s pretty frustrating.

Now moving onto my elder sister. I love her. She the most amazing person in the world. I don’t think I would’ve wanted to live in a world without her. She’s a complete goofball, a little girl, a complete freak! She doesn’t keep any secrets from me, I really love her. But like everyone, she too has her own set of problems. If she’s been accused- she doesn’t take it too well. She over-reacts pretty badly but that’s not the problem. The problem is, that she tends to become dramatically cliché and aggressively emotional when she’s angry. She says things that my mom says when she’s angry...Things like –“I’ll never forget the way you behaved with me tonight!!” and “You’ll have to suffer for this!!”- I know she doesn’t mean any of it, but why say such things if you don’t mean them and when no one is in a casual mood, there really not nice things to say to people. But I do forgive and forget and she forgets and forgives- the two are different (Think about it).

………In a way every person is good. GOOD and BAD are twisted words. I might love a person who the world finds horrid and I might hate a person who the world adores…..

If I talk about my best friends, then I would be talking about those selected few, who you know mostly everything about me. The things that they don’t know are probably the things are that I have either forgotten or the things that I don’t know myself. They are the ones who know all the different languages in which I speak to different the different species. They think like me and comprehend things the way I do. Yeah we argue and fight sometimes- but only because we’re tired of getting along and want to do something different and have fun doing it. I remember this one instance when my friend and I were discussing the ways in which we can destroy each other’s lives.

I have some good friends as well who know me well but do not know everything about me. They know most of my apparent characteristics and are aware of some of my not so apparent characteristics, but nonetheless I love them quite a lot.

Another species is called “friends”- these are the people who know be by name, who have visited my orkut, facebook and hi5 profiles and perhaps my blog. They usually know I’m that I’m from M.H.S. and the lead guitarist of the school band and they make a big deal out of this fact, not because I’m brilliant- but because I am a girl (this is irritating as I’m somewhat a feminist!). In a way I’m glad they don’t know all about me and why should they? I mean, why would they do and in-depth analysis of my character, do they have a lack in life or what?

Then there are those species who I call “unfamiliar people from around familiar places”: the people who I see on the road, the people who stare at my hair at bust-stands, the people who sit next to me in buses and autos, the people who leave math tuition at 3 pm, when I enter, and those who enter at 5pm when I leave, the people in weddings, the people who look up from the road when I am talking to loudly on the phone, sitting in the balcony, the people in automobiles who stop next to my car at traffic signals, the people in the shop where I buy my BSNL cash-card and five star crunchy from etc etc..You know…the people… all different species.

When I speak to these species, I don’t enforce myself to speak in different languages, it comes naturally and even though it comes naturally, I hate to admit it, but it’s the truth. The language I speak to my friends is not the one I speak to my Teacher... Like that—this is because every single human being is different, no two people are the same—according to the theory that I’m following, that makes every individual a different species.

A single human being has a variety of characteristics and different selves...In that way a human being has different species of selves inside him/her……

Ok this is getting too complicated. I’m going to stop now.

[TO BE DEALT WITH LATER]