Stream Of Consciousness

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When I was very small, and fairly a young girl, I slept with a teddy-bear. A teddy-tiger, rather. It was small and fluffy and fit perfectly in my small arms in my fluffy pyjamas.
I... have a sister. When she was born, I had dressed in my pinkest finery, and, dripping with gentle jewellery, I had rushed into the hospital to greet my new small baby playmate. She was cute and small and teddy-bear like.
When I was born, I had been drugged up on pethadine.
Apparently so heavily medicated that I didn't even make a squeak.

My dad and his brother were down at the pub, and apparently it was my uncle who was first to hold me, not my dad.
I, personally, find that hilarious.

I was told today that I'm never serious, and I never ever take anything seriously. I contradicted them by saying that I had been deadly serious when I received my Physics mocks results (YESTERDAY).
Then I ruined it by bursting out into laughter.
I can't help it.
I'm always like that.
I find everything amusing. There's so much to laugh about in the world. So much to find ridiculous, so much to ridicule, so much to be amused by. Sometimes happy-genuine amused, sometimes patronising-condescending amused, and other times bitter-mocking-cynical amused.
But whichever it is, whether it's light or dark or black or cruel or kind or vanilla or naughty, there's so much to laugh at. To make fun of, to be amused at.
Why wouldn't I?

Sometimes I contemplate the possibility of the pethadine overdose at birth being the cause of me behaving like this. So still and silent when born, so determined to live and laugh in the middle bit.
Then I stop and think on what I just thought, and realise how utterly ridiculous I can be. :)
I'm the way I am because I want to be, not because of any early external influences :P

Anyway.
Life laughs, laughs live, we're all a happy family...
PAHAHAHAHAHA.

This is supposed to be a 'stream of consciousness', where everything I write is completely spontaneous - anything, anything and everything and nothing at the same time, probably completely nonsensical and most likely of poor, imbecilic standard.
Psh.
I'm just making it up as I go along. (Which I suppose is correct, as it is intended to be spontaneous)

Ella's drawn a pentacle onto my hand, and it's weird and doesn't look pretty and it's awkwardly clashing green with red on brown skin...
Christmas colours.
There's also an awkward hole in my tights and they're too small so they keep on slipping down and my 'p's are quite pretty, and this is completely and utterly irrational.
I... want a party.
With balloons and everything.
And music and dancing, and pretty dresses in flashing colours and clever people with cleverer jewellery.
It'll be gorgeous.
It'll be...
              Spectacular.














I hate physics.

The Beginning: The Big Bang, As It Were

Hello.
How are you? I'm fine. Actually, I'm feeling pretty cool right now. I've got my own blog and everything.
See? Sexy.

Anyways.
'Why?' You may be inquiring. 'Why are you taking up my time with this odd little blog, when I could be doing so much more interesting things, such as YouTubing or Facebooking?'
And my answer is this:
Everyone needs someone to talk to. Some people talk to their mums, other people to their best friends. I know some one who talks to their invisible friend Algernon. And here, is where I want to talk to you. About everything and anything - from boys to school to politics to music to MarioKart to exams to best friends to obsessions to quiet contemplations on muddy fields.
Anything.

So to start off with, my name is Tara. I have a best friend called Ella and a twin (in everything but blood) called Fran. My parents were born in India, but I like to pride myself on being completely English - from the way I speak to the food I eat. That's not to to say I don't take pride in my parents' country - I do, it's just not my country- it's not the place I was born and raised in, not the country I love.
I love England. I really do. I don't know why - people always complain about the dreary weather and the hostile inhabitants and the ever growing influx of foreigners. Or at least, they do in London. (Where I live, if that wasn't obvious :P)
So England is hardly the place people dream of living in, nor is it the dream holiday destination, but life knows I'd hate it if it were. I like the rain and the odd wet dryness that we get so often, and the summer in the spring and the spring in the summer, and skipping autumn to go straight into winter. I love it. It's different and it's special and not even Germany has it, and Germany's one of the few places I've been which is probably the most relatable to England.
England is home. London is home.
What could possibly be better than home?

I like to talk. I wouldn't say I'm the most extroverted in reality - for some reason, despite the fact that there always so many things to say just teeming in my mind, I can never manage to get them all out. I usually end up looking like a complete spastic :P
Words are so brilliant. Words can paint a whole new world, a secret haven to escape to when you're bored, a place you can take anyone who'd care to read your work. Words are the keys to the heart and the mind and the soul - they express everything you could ever feel, everything you could ever dare to dream. Words are freedom, without them, we are nothing but shells, mere copies of our simian ancestors. But when we have words, when we have the freedom to express ourselves through words, we can go soaring towards the heavens; with words, we are entirely free.

So this is my blog. My lovely blog with words and words hidden inside, waiting to be typed out and shown to the world. This is my freedom. My way of reaching out to everyone, to show them me.
Hello. My name is Tara, and this is my blog. And may I be so bold as to say, I am so very, very glad to meet you.