Something new

It all got so monotonous so I decided to change...contemplation was so cliched so I thought deliberations could bring out something new. The template is also changed and the comments thing is back and the cbox is gone...blah blah---its an outcome of boredom plus a reason to break out of lethargy.

Anyways,
Its the start of winter- I love them, the fog the warm sweaters and jackets and shoes and coffee mugs and blankets. Its all so amazing. Time is flying man!!!
I really have to pace up with my novel now- theres hardly time left and not even done halfway through it.
Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence, I think only literature students get to read stuff like this. But I like it- its about family, about love and Oedipus complex.
It sometimes delights me to be a literature student, its gives you an edge. Your critque level increases and you start finding the smallest of doubts in everything you see. You start thinking how better something can get. You start speaking splendid words in the normal spoken language, you get to read the popular stuff. And you'll come across a lotta Williams- there'll be atleast one William in every novel or play. You'll start relating yourself to the characters. You'll abuse Shakespeare at least once.

My internals are less than a month away now and soon there'll be the externals and soon BANG...end of my college. I'm not cribbing because, well, I have spent the last 3 yrs brooding to why am I in this college? But then friends and the fun will be missed - I guess thats what college is about. Shradha told me a few days ago that I changed her- in a good way! I felt soo happy...I wanted to tell her that she changed me too. She taught me that being a bitch sometimes is GOOD...and yes it is!!! Not that I'm a bitch or she's a bitch but when we have to We should always be one. She taught me to be real- that's when my melodrama cracks out and I become over-sensitive. I taught her to be equal to what people do to you.

Oedipus Complex is basically a crap theory if you read it or listen to it but in literal meanings its an art of writing a novel and understanding lOVE- in whichever form it maybe. its all about acceptance.
Remember in Dil Chahta Hai when Sid slaps Akash because he made fun of Sid's love with a woman who's the age of his mother. That's okay.
Oedipus is about a love between a mother and son, its an obsession of a mother for her son that she never lets any girl enter his life.
thats what happens in Sons and Lovers. Paul, the son, is in love with a girl Miriam but the presence of the tension on his mothers face due to this breaks him down and he can't confess his love for Miriam.

He did not know himself what was the matter. He was naturally so young, and their intimacy was so abstract, he did not know he wanted to crush onto his breast to ease the ache there. He was afraid of her. The fact that he might want her as a man wnats a woman had in him been supressed into shame. When she shrank in her convulsed, coiled torture from the thought of such a thing, he had winced to the depths of his soul. And now this 'purity' prevented even their first love kiss. It was as if she could scarcely stand the shock of physical love, even a passionate kiss, and then he was too shrinking and sensitive to give it............

after one paragraph...

.......he hated her, for she seemed, in some way, to make him despise himself.

To how it hurts when both of them know they are in love but the strangeness of love is such that it can't always allow you to rise. Love has its own principles.

I watched Dil dosti etc. its a different thing altogether, a bold thing....but I liked what it teaches.
One lives for Love, one dies for Love. Both ways the Love has different meanings. But in the end we hear from Apurv (the casanova) that he missed Vaishali the most (the prostitute).

Love is mystical.