Twenty!

Hello fellow voxian/vox-viewerian. I'm nineteen now. Tomorrow I'll be twenty. Just making a list of all the new things and the no-more things in my life since I started Ink-ing. Woooo!

  • A little less wood on Eddie my beautiful black acoustic thanks to the chut who chipped it.
  • Five or Six songs more, some of them half songs, some of them a whole new genre (contentwise).
  • A playlist not dominated by Pearl Jam. (ps: Eddie Vedder is still God.)
  • A longer list of books read.
  • A God named Eliot.
  • Two brand-new pairs of shorts that fit I got them exchanged woohoo!
  • Two pairs of respectable jeans.
  • An oddly dysfunctional jaw. *moment of worry*.
  • A budding back problem :)
  • Put-downable-on-resume type college festival posts.
  • Half a kilo more on the weighing scale (I'm hoping. May not be true though.)
  • Seven months worth of random blogposts.
  • Seven or eight people who regularly read aforementioned random blogposts *waves*
  • Acquaintances who worry that I might need therapy. Blame it on the Blogposts:)
  • Nine friends more.
  • One friend less. 
  • One family member who knows what I write *waves*.
  • One prof I pity.
  • A larger drinking capacity.
  • The ability to claim ownership of more than one pair of shoes at a given point in time. Not so gareeb now eh :P
  • No concrete birthday plans for the first time in four years.

I'm sure there's more.

Read this line:
"Life's like an hourglass glued to the table" -Anna Nalick.
Listen to the song. Its called Breathe and its beauty-effing-full.
So much more sand sealed into a box labelled Ninteen. I'll miss the teen in the how-old-are-you answers but on the bright side I'l be twenty-one in a year and I can drink legally and not be worried about idiots asking for ID's. Plus I can still pass off as nineteen. Actually I can even pass off as twelve but thats not the point. "Life's like an hourglass glued to the table" but truth is, I'm not the type that feels bad about being older. I like my birthdays!

Happy Birthday to me!
(In a bit.)

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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