Musical Excitement, Etc.
Without any intention to show-off, but with a definite intention to share my future joy is why I write this post The next four months have Michael Buble, matchbox twenty and Bon Jovi lined up on my calendar - Buble on my birthday at the UT campus, matchbox twenty a day after, that is on the 28th of February at Houston, and Bon Jovi at Dallas in April. Excited? Bloody excited.
Concerts, to me, are still quite simply what I said a year and a half back on this blog:
"I would again like to highlight the sheer joy and memories a 1 hour 50 minute concert can give, so if any of you get any chance of seeing Robbie, or any other good performer for that matter, grab it with your hands, your feet, your stomach and everything else that is possible - because it is rare."
-Sunday, April 23rd, 2006.
Yes, I thoroughly enjoy concerts and love getting lost in the music. Obviously, I am the most excited about matchbox twenty. They have been my favorite band for quite a few years now, and however "cliched" or "gay" this sounds, watching them will fulfill one of my many dreams. Bon Jovi and Buble are supposedly great performers - I love their music too, so there isn't going to be any boredom issues there either.
In other news, my laptop's motherboard has quite conveniently, without any reason, crashed, which has ultimately resulted in the tragic but temporary death of my laptop. To add to this disgrace, HP is being a united idiot with regards to my warranty. I will rant and ridicule about this issue soon. Where as emotionally, I am so annoyed with how much my laptop's crash is annoying me. Lord, we have'st become'st so'st dependent'h on'th our'st laptops'sts.
Thanksgiving at Tarryn's was a great escape - relaxing, fascinating and fun! A bunch of finals and paper submissions are coming up, which I am looking forward to only to get them out of my way. Winter plans are done and involve everything but being home. Ali just blowed the bezeezles out of me, oh how I miss him!
P.S. I am writing this post only after making sure that I have the tickets to all three concerts in my hands. Muhahahaha! :)
The Fall
It was on a chilly Sunday morning. Thanks to the ICA, I hadn’t slept much in the last 24 hours. A ton of ICA work had kept me up all night. I was at a friend’s place, working, while the rest of the gang chirped away about the most random of things, throwing in bits of laughter here and there. By 6 in the morning, I was done, and decided to finally head back home. Tarryn came along and I hoped to walk her back to her car, and then sleep away the exhaustion in my cozy dorm bed. But things did not quite unfold the way I planned them to.
A heavy breeze made the dark, early morning chillier. Tarryn & I were walking arm-in-arm singing and talking about the most random things, as we inched closer to her car. All of a sudden, the calm of the cold Sunday morning met with a loud yelp. Our heads immediately turned towards this sound and we saw this body falling from about four floors above the ground. It hit the road with a crunch, a crunching of bones, and then the body lay their motionless. No screaming, no twitching, absolutely still, dead.
Initially, I didn’t realize what had just happened. The shirtless body that fell seemed as unreal as a doll. The sheer magnitude of what we had just witnessed seeped in only slowly - this ‘body’ was of a university student who had just fallen four floors to his death. With his back facing us, we couldn’t see the extent of the frontal damage done, and this mysticism somewhat made it worse. Was he alive? Was he breathing? Had he passed out? My heart started to race like it had never before. I bet Tarryn’s did too, and we both started freaking out, so overwhelmed by what we had just witnessed. There wasn’t a soul around us and we needed to do something about this. I frantically asked Tarryn for the emergency number. “911.” I dialed it instantly. About 3 minutes had passed since the fall when I dialed 911. The emergency officer answered instantly, and I started ranting out details of what had happened, where it had happened and to my self-amusement, why it had happened. She told me to slow down, and repeat the details a few more times. I really can’t recall how freaked I sounded on the phone because I was in flight-and-fight mode. The adrenaline was pumping with fear and shock. I was fairly efficient in giving the emergency officer all the details. She seemed as panicked as me for there was no other reason for her to call me ‘madam, sorry, sir’.
The emergency officer then asked me to approach the body and see if there was any sign of life - that’s when I saw his face. His mouth was oozing with blood, and there obviously didn’t seem to be any sign of life in him. I was glad that the sun was not out, because that would have resulted in a gorier picture. I moved away, fearful, but slightly relieved to hear the sirens that now loomed the air. Meanwhile, three people who seemed to be enjoying a morning run arrived at the scene. They were also, obviously, taken aback by what they saw. They asked Tarryn and me what had happened, comforted us and said that they had no business to be there, and resumed their running. That was slightly weird. A few minutes later the police, the EMS and the ambulance arrived. Tarryn & I moved away from the scene and saw the rest unfold from a distance.
The police marked the crime scene – it was either suicide, homicide or an accident. Obviously, it was most likely to be an accident. A few minutes later a bulky police officer came and asked us a few questions, and took our contact details down. We were the only witnesses, and if this death became any bigger a deal, we would be called in for further questioning. We asked the police-officer if we could be excused for a few minutes to go wash our faces and put on a jumper. He obviously agreed. So Tarryn and I went up to my room, freshened up and came back down at the crime-scene. At about 9, we were still there, on police-orders to stay. We were then called by a Victims-Help officer and briefed on what was happening and what would happen. She said that we could be called in to the police station for further questioning. But what she primarily was trying to tell us that what we witnessed could be a traumatic enough experience to affect our life in university for the next couple of weeks. She said that if we needed any help, we could contact her, or visit one of the university counselors. We liked the support.
The detective finally arrived at the scene. He questioned us quickly and told us to go back home. I think he was trying to avoid us getting exposed to the media, and he did a pretty good job at that, because just as we were leaving, we saw a news-channel van arrive at the scene. I was glad that happened. I was also glad that I hadn’t slept in the past 30 hours, because as soon as I reached my dorm I fell asleep, solely because of the fact that I was thoroughly exhausted. What a day.
The next two weeks were not easy, but not that difficult either. My classes were not affected, and ICA work was keeping me very occupied, but more importantly, distracted. My university did its bit by offering us support if we needed it. That felt good, even though we didn’t actually need any of it. I think the reason why ‘the fall’ didn’t affect me or Tarryn that much was because we didn’t witness it alone. However clichéd it sounds, Tarryn and I had each other. We supported each other, and understood what the other was going through, making everything easier for the both of us. Ultimately, it brought us only closer together. I get scared to even think of what would have happened if I was alone that fateful morning.
Having said all that, the side effects of ‘the fall’ are still there. Late at night, when the air gets chilly, and I am walking back to my dorm, this automated fear starts building within me. Out-of-the-ordinary sounds send chills down my back, bringing back memories that didn’t need to exist. This fear is only temporary though and seems to disappear as quickly as it comes. But what will stay permanently in my head, is this video, this video that continues to loop over and over again. It’s barely three seconds long. But it’s three seconds of something that no one needs to ever witness.
P.S. This is a memory I will not forget how much ever I want myself to forget it. Writing always helps.
Cows & More
My Chinese and Korean suite-mates just semi-disturbed me. They knocked on my door and asked me to come outside and witness something. Gordon, the Chinese one, pointed to a take-away box which had curly and slimy yet garnished food in it, and said, "Try it."
"What is it?"
"It's a cow's stomach and intestine, deliciously savored with garlic sauce."
Gordon and Chol laughed at my reaction, and I laughed back. My religion condemns such actions but their religion almost embraces it. Personally, I really don't care. The only thing I cared about was the ghastly odor that the cow's intestine left behind. Currently, the addressed food sits in the fridge, waiting to be devoured and shut out from contaminating our suite...
*****
I haven't blogged in quite a bit. It's not that I am blogstipated, in fact I have tons to say, it's just that I have been hit by time constraints - majorly. In a nutshell, October of '07 sets out to be the most dramatic and eventful month of my life, and I write that with no exaggeration. From gravitational and traumatic falls to the "biggest cultural event", October might not have had it all, but it did have quite a large chunk of it all.
I wonder if I will be able to write it all out.
Next month, maybe.
P.S. Recently, Austin, Texas experienced a 400F in temperature in a single day. Oh and my suite-mates are awesome . Also, I can assure you that our suite is by far the most culturally and educationally diverse - 1 Korean, 1 American, 1 Chinese and 1 Indian.
The ICA
If you know me and if I talk to you or if you are an Indian at the University of Texas, you better know what the “ICA” is. The ICA is a decently establishing acronym for the “Indian Cultural Organization”, and quite simply, the ICA is all about the spread of Indian Culture.
So why is it important for you to know about it? Firstly, it is very interesting and often borders a story of sheer devout patriotism, and secondly, I am in it – no Taylor, I don’t intend to sound conceited, it’s just that if anyone is reading this, you probably give half-a-shizer about the world around me. So before I lose you, let the story unfold.
Once upon an exciting long day, Sahil Jain told me that the ICA is loads of fun only if you actually make it into the core committee. That got stuck somewhere in the rear of my brain, and I enthusiastically applied for an interview for the position of a Junior Officer. After a slightly thorough interrogation that was my interview, Saheb led me out and said “good job man”. And later that night, it was somehow magically revealed to me through the brilliance of the electronic mail that I had made it into the ICA as the ICA’s Technical Consultant. Brilliant – Sahil’s words echoed in my mind like some super-filmy Bollywood film, and I was blissfully happy.
There are two major Indian organizations at UT – the ICA and the I(ndian)S(tudents’)A(ssociation). The ISA is largely dominated by the ABCDs or the Indians that have grown up in America, and the ICA is mainly dominated by the FOBs, or the fresh Indians from the Middle East and the Indian mainland itself. However, unlike a typical dramatic Hindi soap opera, there involves no unhealthy rivalry between the two. They both function in harmony, often working together, fulfilling their own objectives; which is a pleasant surprise, considering all the chaotic politics that takes place back home in India.
After having been debriefed on the mega-humongous Indian society that exists in Austin, I was all excited to attend my first committee meeting, and meet the ICA gang! The “ICA gang” has all the good types of unique people that The Almighty has ever produced. From the straight-out “nice” people, and the unbelievably hard-working people, and the academic geniuses, and the creative maestros to the hottest of Indians, and the Love-Therapists, ICA is a melting pot of humanity.
With a dozen or more events that happen through out the semester, which includes the biggest cultural event “Jhalak”, ICA means business. Once you are in, the commitment is hardcore. It takes up a good number of hours each week, and you start feeling the load even before the beginning of mainstream work. With 17 hours/week of classes, soccer activities, Texas Latin Dance and the random fun stuff, another major commitment like the ICA can be quite a dosage. There have already been times when it seemed to be an over-whelming burden. Jason, a very close friend, told me the other day, a commitment so severe may not be worth it, and I could completely get where he was coming from – I kept complaining constantly to him. But what he, or any other non-Indian, will not understand is that unexplainable bond that most Indians have with their roots. It’s so strong, that complain as we may, there is this bound duty that we feel that we almost owe our country. And it’s not negative debt, it’s this inborn urge to stay connected with our culture, and however occupying ICA seems, it is extremely fulfilling.
We freshmen are still new to the whole ICA work ethic, so I guess it will take a bit to get fully accustomed to it, but we seem to be learning and fitting in well - an inspiring senior workforce helps! A bunch of the senior members are doing hardcore double majors and other strenuous activities, maintaining a 4.0 GPA and taking on the third major that is the ICA. When you see such devotion, you feel ashamed to complain, and soon find no reason too. Instead, you get caught in the passion.
Jhalak ’07 is coming up. The Jhalak saga is ICA’s biggest event. It is entirely student driven and aims at the pervasion of Indian culture in the UT society. How does this happen? Indian dances, musical performances, comedy acts, fashion shows, video clips delineating the unique colors of one of the most colorful countries, accompanied by Live Video Editing, Indian food and this Indian ambience that is unmistakable to typical Indian. And to top all that, guess who is headlining Jhalak ’07? Dan Ninan – a stand up comedian who has done many shows with Russell Peters and has even performed for Hilary Clinton. November 2nd at the University of Texas at Austin is going to be one big Indian bang, and I cannot wait to be a part of it all!
P.S. The usage of ABCDs and FOBs was not intended to offend anyone. However if anyone does get offending, I apologize and want to bring to your notice once again, that this was not my intention. I proud to be Indian.
Goodbye Jose
19th September 2007 witnessed one the most dramatic managerial departures that the English Premiership has ever seen in its recent past. One of the most successful, yet controversial soccer managers, Jose Mourinho was an annoyingly effective Chelsea soccer club’s manager. His brute spirit and killer attitude had transformed Chelsea’s ridiculous Abramovich-investments into actual silverware – two English Premier League titles, two Carling Cup victories and one FA Cup triumph.
Jose was a colorful chap, who said the most colorful of things in the most colorful of ways. A passionate coach who would do anything to win, Mourinho was a brilliant player manager, bringing the freakishly international and disconnected Chelsea players together. The players at Chelsea loved him, but everyone else around him just hated his guts. Other managers took great offense to Jose’s verbal attacks on everything that did not go his way. Mr Benitez of Liverpool couldn’t stand the Portuguese Mourinho, and he wasn’t afraid to show his hatred. Mourinho has had spites with almost every other egoistic manager, and watching these egos clash has been a wondrous site at times.
So why did he leave? Did he get sacked? Did he quit? Chelsea say that they reached a “mutual” consent with Mourinho on his removal. But personally, I do not think it was as simple as that. I think Chelsea sacked Jose, and Jose could do nothing else but accept it. So as smart as he is, and as smart as Chelsea try to be, according to them, a picture should speak a thousand pretty words, rather than a thousand true and ugly ones. That is the only bit I think they mutually agreed on.
Sacking someone is all about a clash of egos. The billionaire-owner of Chelsea, Roman Abramovich couldn’t stop poking his nose into Mourinho’s job. For instance, he forced Mourinho to spend around forty million dollars on a thirty-year old striker, Andiry Shevchenko, who he really wanted in the team because of Shevchencko’s and his common areas of descent. And amidst this entire nose poking business, Abramovich’s expectations were unbelievably high. I guess, a billionaire would think that money could buy success. Money did partially bring success to Chelsea, but not as must as Abramovich wished it would. So what did the egoistic, success-hungry billionaire do? He blamed the egoistic, success-hungry manager of not being able to convert Chelsea into the best team there is. Now when two such strong egoistic similar personalities clash, what it really calls for is a “The Bold & The Beautiful” episode on their love-hate relationship.
Personally, I feel that for a manager to be successful, the chairman should have faith and patience in what he has hired, but most importantly, the chairman should enjoy a good rapport with his manager. If he doesn’t then it is not worth maintaining a combustible relationship. So Mourinho’s departure is indeed better for the greater good of Chelsea. On the other hand, he is a great loss to the cinematic entertainment that English Premier League managers are masters at.
I hated Mourinho. He annoyed me so very much, but I always respected the fact that he was a very smart soccer manager who knew how to win, even without playing pretty soccer. Quite simply, he is a passionate untroubled maniac, who always seems to be in control of himself and of everything around him. He is like this mega, huge, strong, annoying wall that cannot be pushed around – to get rid of this wall, you need to break it down with a bulldozer. Mr Roman Abramovich is quite a bulldozer. Good luck to him with him finding a new wall.
P.S. I really felt like going back to my football (soccer) writing roots. It's been a while...
Dobie & Elevators
Dobie is my dorm. It’s 27 floors tall and is the tallest darn thing in this area. There are about 900 residents living in Dobie and another 900 friends-of-residents too. It doesn’t have any issues, and is very cool with friends [even of the opposite sex] staying overnight. But it has only three elevators.
Yes, the three-elevators-issue is probably the only issue. I live on the 16th floor and have climbed up the sixteen 3 times. Move-in day was horrendous – there was only one elevator available for vertical transport and it resulted in a very un-merry sight - too many people, too much contact, too much of time-squandering. The elevator waits can be long, very long, but are always entertaining none the less. Here’s why: The elevators are small, and are almost always full. So when you enter them, you are greeted with this eerie silence, and a dozen sets of daunting eyes. You look away instantly, counting the number of hot women around you in your head from a previous freeze-frame, and acting as cool as possible in the process. You press your floor, and then start looking at random conscious things. Sometimes you look at your watch, sometimes at elevator floor-countdown screen-like thing, and if you’re shameless you blatantly stare at the most attractive person of the sex you are attracted too.
There are times, when you are with a group of friends, buzzing in conversation; but as soon as you step into the elevator, there is that eerie silence that takes over you yet again. Thus begins the long, silent journey to your destined floor. Now as these elevators are prone to a large number of stops, you almost always find someone clicking his tongue on every unscheduled stop, and cursing the heavens above for making this seemingly short journey, painfully long. And if you are prone to claustrophobia, God has certainly not blessed you with Dobie.
So for all the above reasons, Dobie has now come up with “Elevator Etiquette” - no two consecutive floor-buttons can be pressed, and people living on floors 2 – 5 have to use the stairs. Robert doesn’t follow “Elevator Etiquette”. No one likes him.
Basically, the point to this pointless post is that the “Elevator Experience” is one of the unique sights and sounds of Dobie that does not ever fail to amuse me. From the etiquette betrayers, to the eerie silences, to the random laughs and conversations, to the furtive glances at a fellow elevator-traveler and to the annoying waits, Dobie elevators can be thoroughly entertaining, if not annoying.
P.S. The other day, Taylor, a close friend, lost a bet and thus ran around floors 16, 20 and 27, in his skimpy boxers. No one was around in the corridors, but the elevators didn’t spare him – apparently seeing a guy naked with only a towel to protect him is highly peculiar.
Gone To Texas!
10,000 people held together with the binding force of the Burnt Orange, the Cheerleaders, the Longhorn Band, the Acapella singing groups, the multi-cultural dances, the videos, the speeches, the cheers, the flying balls, the “ \m/ ”, the Eyes of Texas, more singing, more of the Longhorn Marching Band, the unfurling of the biggest Texas Flag, the lighting of Tower, the Bevo, the spirit and the life of UT was all encompassed in one super-duper mega night. A day before classes began, UT held an official welcoming event for us ’07 freshmen – “Gone To Texas”.
It had two stages at either end of the main mall with performances on both stages. In addition to that, a good light setup, topped by the involvement of the UT Tower, made everything even more glamorous. The show went through as smoothly as a smoothie, with a balance of speeches and performances, and that made everything non-boring. Us Desis performed a traditional dance and an Acapella performance, and I felt glad that the Indian community was heavily involved. But they were blown away by this African American girl who unleashed the UT anthem, “The Eyes Of Texas” in a truly wondrous run-filled voice. But the Longhorn Marching Band blew her away. The grand finale had the massive band laden with percussionists, trumpet players and what not, walk through the audience playing popular Texas anthems, leaving the audience in the state of frenzy. They collected under the Tower and the picture you see above is how it ended.
The common thread that connected all the events was the undying everlasting longhorn spirit. The spirit here at UT [and any other university I guess] is awesome, but what’s brilliantly brilliant about it is that you get drowned into the spirit as soon as you step into university. The pure passion in the faces of the longhorns while chanting out TEXAS spreads like a healthy virus into the blood of even the 5-day-old freshmen. The Bevo horns, the sports and basically the spirit is freakishly uniting. I never felt so united in my school and I like my school!
Classes have begun, I have moved into my dorms, I think I’ve found my friend circles and I am going for the Football [American] game today – so I think I have officially settled in, “gotten into my groove”, “found my flow” and all that rot. I went for soccer tryouts and didn’t make it - I wasn’t good enough, but I now know what I need to work towards. I might be blogging for UT this year – I’ll get to know next week [fingers crossed]. The weather is nice. My dorm is nice. People are nice. Good times. J
P.S. The girls here are pretty darn hot. But it’s depressing; they are so hot that they are out of any league that I can think of. Ahh life!
UT
13th of August, 2007 is historical in my short history. My much-older cousin brother dropped me off at the University of Texas at Austin and went of to work. With a map in one hand, and a really heavy backpack on my shoulders, I stood, pretty clueless of my surroundings. I had some formalities to sort out, and I was determined to find my own way to one of the myriad of buildings that make up UT. It was as if there was a glow in my eyes, that combination of excitement and resolute that you see in a pacing racehorse’s eyes as he strides towards the finish line - you could just see it in my face. I stood overlooking my campus ready to dismantle my barriers, and conquer [i.e. discover] that tiny GIAC [Graduate and International Admissions Center] building. But I just stood. I stood for a long long time, starring at the map, straining my “glowing” eyes to find that wretched GIAC on the map. With great effort, I did eventually find it, but all my thoughts of being a “striding” racehorse crashed away.
It was hot, my back was beginning to feel the strain of the laptop and paper-laden backpack, and I was lost. It took me a good one hour to locate GIAC. When I did find it, I realized that I had walked around it three times already. Not cool. But hey, I made sure I didn’t take any passerby’s help when I knew I easily could. This happened for the next few days. As I kept getting lost, I did also, somehow, find my way .What did all this teach me? No, I am not getting metaphorical here about how “we constantly get lost in our lives, but always seem to find a way”. That’s true, but too friggin’ Paolo Coelho – let him write all that. What the getting-lost bit helped in was figuring out the campus. My path to self-discovery of the UT campus has now resulted in me knowing the campus pretty darn well compared to other new students. Yes it took time, and I was no racehorse, but it’s something.
Besides all the self-exploration and the sorting out of formalities, UT is finally getting very exciting. Yes, there are moments when you get drowned in nostalgia and in your insecurities, but you also soon find your way out of them. Now having put many physical emoting faces to Facebookers, there is at least no feeling of being a complete stranger.
I attended International Orientation on the 17th of August and it was pretty decent. Yes, getting loads of information can be boring, but the Orientation committee tried their best to make in un-boring. They incorporated heavy participation from the audience, unscrambling scrambled letters, food and water, and a vibrant and friendly atmosphere - so out popped a plethora of different people, citing their experiences and first impressions of the US of A. The first 6 people to step up onto the podimu were Indians – some made us a little proud, some made us not so very proud and some just lied their rears off to get some free gifts: yes, we Indians leave no page unfolded. There was this Australian guy who traveled across the world, as in literally, stopping in various Asian and European places, using 7 modes of transportation [horses, water-ferries, airplanes, trains, buses, cars and feet], and finally landing in Austin. Fascinating. Oh and we met a Chinese guy with possibly the smallest full name in the world: Yu Du. Wow.
Orientation was fun. The pizza-lunch was okay. We didn’t eat much, and instead headed to Gregory’s Gym to play some basketball, but with our greater intention being to finally use our campus’ facilities. So Jason [another Sport Management-er] and I rented a basketball and “shot some hoops”. There were other people there too, as in more seasoned players, who asked us if we wanted to join in for a game. We did. We weren’t that great, but they were. Some of the players we played against were brilliantly brilliant, way better than any I have seen in Dubai. Initially I was scared I’d be embarrassed, but we just fitted in, so it was not all that bad. =)
Next week is scheduled to be hectic and crucial. We have to register for classes and I need to figure out if I will be taking up a double major or not. Other than that, meeting more Facebookers and more new people will continue. Exciting times, very exciting times.
P.S. Again, the world is so small [yeah more crazy connected people stuff happened] and we Desis are everywhere!
Angelina Jolie, Chicago & St. Louis
The past week saw some of my dreams come true, and others just crash away. Having been deprived of a good theme park experience all my life, I owe it to St Louis’ Six Flags to de-virginize my 18 year-old good theme park virginity. I have now been on enough roller-coasters to satisfy my tank for another year or so; Universal Studios and the Disney experience still beckons.
Also at St Louis, we witnessed one of the greatest spectacles to hit the saintly city in the recent past: the St Louis Arch. Now this mammoth structure is the most pointless, lazy, BIG, metallic, upward parabola I have ever seen. Yes, its giant-ness gets you awestruck for a second, but then it’s back to ‘why the hell would you spend 13 million dollars on such a large pointless, slightly beautifying but blatantly bland silvery upright rectangular parabola?’ There is probably some “deep”, metaphorical explanation for its presence, a whole bunch of “leading into a new world” theories, but all that is pretty darn useless because it is only mildly fascinating. To put it into better light, it at least, seems to be more worthwhile than the 200 million dollars that are being spent in capturing Beck-sie Boy, his Posh and his Romeos and Juliets. However, the St Louis Arch experience wasn’t all that bad; add some younger-cousin-companionship, a decent documentary on Alaska [yeah, we saw it inside the arch in this I-Max like theatre], a sweet family picture and a glimpse of a packed baseball game through the tiny window from atop the Arch which we paid a ludicrous sum of 15$ per head, and it seems pretty worth it.
A road-trip to Chicago was next and the only major highlight was that I was fortunate enough to meet a married close friend of mine from Dubai. Slightly nostalgic, the meeting was mildly therapeutic in its own way. Oh, and I pretty much know all the basic information that there is to know about the architectural work pieces of Chicago along the Chicago river. But the second major highlight is what you guys will be really interested in: Angelina Jolie (and family) were in Chicago when I was there and were about 3 kilometers from us in a museum [we found out later]. Now if it was Sandra Bullock, I wouldn’t care much [not that I hate her, but you get the point]. Oh and we saw Oprah’s building too. =P
Sprayed between and during these road-trips were circuses, and lunches and dinners at all the finest of places that the US of A has to offer, devouring a variety of cuisines and being wonderfully spoilt – that’s what a holiday is all about. All this was possible only because of my highly loving and generous uncle and aunt. Thank you so very much for a lovely stay [Chacha, I am not sucking up!].
Right now, I am heading to Austin, Texas. Excited but more nervous, I don’t exactly know what to feel. Not blessed with the company of a decently attractive woman like last time, I am still passing time wonderfully well. We will be landing in another 45 minutes or so, and then my soon-to-be-father cousin will pick me up. University of Texas tomorrow – I really can’t wait.
P.S. The “Angelina Jolie” in the title is also a publicity stunt to get more hits. :P
Oh Bharath (and all other faithful readers), I apologize for the constant bickering and justifications of my why my posts are turning out to be long.