MOONBLOG - MY LIFE

Um - so here's a petition to change the language policy. To anyone reading this, it will be extremely appreciated by thousands of students if you did it. Don't worry, it's completely safe! Policy Petition

I'm bored cause life often gets boring.  So I decided to ramble on my blog cause why not? Ever since the policy of only one foreign language in the CBSE curriculum and how it doesn't make sense that they consider 'ENGLISH' a foreign language because every official legal document is written in english, our school has had bit of a short circuit. We get to choose Hindi or Malayalam as our second language, and I chose Hindi. Most kids chose Malayalam which I guess makes sense.  My entire class contains kids who have taken Hindi as their second which is significantly less than kids who have taken Hindi as their third, so we have 35 kids, which is quite under the average of 40.  So we were moved from our wonderful, spacious classroom to a dingy and tiny one, and most students didn't take the change well. On a happier note, I made a weird-looking pouch thingy. We were told to bring sewing stuff cause apparently they were gonna teach us how to sew. They didn't. All they...

I'm not tall. Like, not at all. The last time I grew was two millimetres and that was a year ago. I turned five feet. And stayed five feet. And now, I'm the shortest in ALL of my friend groups. Like the Robins (Al, Mimi, Panda, Ally and Guppy) and the Hummingbirds.  I was not always the shortest. In fact, in seventh I was quite tall. I was taller than Guppy and frequently called her a baby (not so much about her height and more about how she acted) and I used to Panda shorty from the year I met her. I was the third tallest in a group of seven.  That was because I got a CRAZY growth spurt when I was eleven to twelve.  But then in Eighth grade, everybody shot above me. Beth basically became the human equivalent of the Burj Khalifa . Tia was tall enough to become the General of an Army. Ann was fairly tall, so was Lily and Riley. And then the worst thing of all happened. My tiny whiny cute patootie   of a sister became the same height as me. That was after Fiona had ...

I woke up and there was a light I don't know where it came from It just was there. So I sought out to look for it In the puzzling oblivion that is my head I wanted to know where the light lead And then a hundred voices said Keep walking Stay strong You've got this It's not long. I think. I listen, My foot following the light Like a puppet on a string Then the voices changed You're going the wrong way they said I felt a noose on my neck Or was it a mere thread? Turn back Stop that Such a brat  They said. I stopped in my tracks As the voices grew louder And the thread or the noose or the leash became tighter. As the light dimmed I began to see red What were they yelling about? I was doing what they said! I was their puppet. On a string. The red cleared.  My neck seared. My eyes teared When I realised I still couldn't find the light. the art is not mine I got it from pinterest. OKAY! I made this when I was looking into what poems i should do for my school recitation. T...

A whole new world A whole new sea People tell me what to do People tell me what to be I suppose that's fine Cause I really don't know  What to do either I just go with the flow Time seems to move faster Mondays, Sundays, then suddenly Monday again I don't like that but why does it matter? Like time cares about my opinion! My life seems to be getting better And worse at the same time I am dancing on a soapy floor Underneath a pitch black sky... What am I supposed to do Once the training wheels are off? There's this sense of impending doom I just can't seem to shake off. I know I just rhymed a word with the same word What am I to do - I'm just a little girl! But soon I'll be let go into the wild. And I'm scared to lose my inner child. I'm scared, that's plain to see. I've got a manual in a language I can't read. There's a door but I don't have the keys. I see a path and don't know where it leads. I can't believe it's her...

Hey guys.  The reason that doesn't have an exclamation mark will shock you. And I mean rock you to the core. I'm sick. Like really sick. Like it's Monday and I'm sitting on my couch at nine 'o' clock typing my blog instead of going to school sick. I haven't posted last week. So, I'll make up for it by posting Random Things I do #2 See, I'm thirteen years old. And the thing about that is - 'Im a teenager. And teenage years are wear everyone expects you to act like an adult but they'll treat you like a child. But in my opinion, I get why everybody is treating ME like a child. My brain has not matured since I was like, five years old.  But sometimes it can get really annoying.  Because instead of you know, the usual greetings people normally get from grown ups like  HI! How are you?" or "OMIGOSH! How ya doing?" I get How well are you studying? How good are your grades? Is school too hard? And BLAH BLAH BLAH!  There's more to a...

I know most of you are expecting a "Random things I do for no reason #2" but I'm not. Because this is my blog. I get to do what I want with it.  You see, school has been the bane of my existence. I've hated it for as long as I can remember. I'm socially awkward, I say the wrong things at the wrong time and sometimes I'm just plain oblivious. And the feeling of hatred is mutual - school hates me too! Last time I wrote a poem for school - The Land of Silence.  That was because I was in a revolutionary mood at the time and wanted to overthrow the school board and take over my school. The problem is - I'm still kinda stuck in that phase. Listening to "Revolting Children" from Matilda the Musical certainly hasn't helped. At all.  I don't hate school because I get bad grades. I mean - my grades aren't the best - I certainly won't win any awards or anything. My grades are painstakingly average. I hate school for all the reasons everyone ...

      I'm a weird person and that is a known fact. I've been weird since I was a baby to this very moment I'm typing this. Though, as I grow up, I'll probably become less weird. Being weird is well - a weird thing. Weirdness is frowned upon and looks like a decease to a lot of people. But thankfully I grew up on books and shows where the protagonist is as weird as can be! And I learnt a valuable lesson in them. Being "normal" is absolutely BORING ! I'm weird because I'm limited edition! And this limited edition is an ambiverted hopeless romantic bookworm who simultaneously has a very short attention span and is still stuck on shows meant for eight year olds! I HAVE felt a bit self-conscious about not liking the same things everyone else does. At some point, I think everyone has. Honestly, I don't think anyone is completely 'normal'. As a student, I have to sit down most of my day. And I really don't like sitting down in one place. Sitti...

I've always liked drawing. When it was convenient. For example, when my parents just bought a new pack of crayons when I was seven, or now really - I'll be a full-time ARTISTE ! Until I lose all of them, my parents scold me, and I don't touch paper until the cycle repeats. So I've got that going for me.  Al isn't really an artist. She does not consider herself one and a few years ago she would've considered her art the worst in human history. Then she learnt about modern art, patted herself on the back and said, "Now I know there are people worse than me!" Jokes aside, her art HAS been getting better, and I'm proud of her for it.  I liked to draw once in a while: when I either get a BURST of motivation or a new colour set.  Like the summer before seventh grade when I redrew pictures from storybooks in my own ' style '. When I say style , I mean I tried my ABSOLUTE BEST to draw it right and fail but it still looks relatively good though not...

Dreams are great things. For the most part. As long as they STAY as dreams.  Because nightmares are a whole other story, we do NOT wanna do right now. My dreams are pretty weird. Like, remember Al? My best friend? Well, I once dreamed that in a fancy restaurant, a huge owl (sorta like the Duolingo one, but brown) served me her, as a soup or something. They served MY BEST FRIEND AS A SOUP ! And in the dream, it was utterly and perfectly normal! Only when I wake up did I realise how messed up that was. Most people dream of school. I dream of world domination.  I've had TWO dreams regarding world domination . And both of them had Ally the Alien .  We call Ally the Alien because she's a bit weird (ironic, I know, we all are). I came up with it in sixth grade and it sorta stuck. So in the dream, Ally's bottom half turned into a UFO and she was wearing sunglasses with those dangly hair band alien thingies. So yeah, she arrived with her alien squad to take over the world. I w...

People think writing is easy . Those people have obviously never written before.  Well, nothing good anyway. Because writing is something that follows you around even when you wanna be left alone. Think about it like this. you started writing a story. Typing time is over, so you close your laptop and open your text books because the day of murder - I mean - exams are arriving. If you manage to focus on studying, kudos to you. But what normally happens to me, step-by-step- Step I My character's are so cool - I can't believe I thought of them. And the plot too, it really did come out of nowhere. I'm so excited to get writing again. Step II Huh, I wonder whether anyone else will like my characters. There is nothing really interesting about them. Are they too similar to other characters? What if I stole a character from another book without realising? Step III The plot is kinda boring. What even is the plot anyway? I was hoping to write it as I go. Wait, isn't this basical...

A little song or a play on my part. Imagine your kid is singing from their heart. Their laughing dancing, or just sitting there smiling, As words spill out in a jumbled melody. Heart spills out Onto the ground Lively golden sparkles Handed around A little hope, little dream, nestled in your hand. Clutch it carefully before it slips through like sand. What do you do with it this little piece of tanzanite Shining with its soft blue light? A spark, a home, a dear darling precious. Spilled by the quiet also by the restless. When they laugh and smile, with their large pure eyes Deep chocolate brown or glittering tanzanite. They hand it around, you get one special to keep. If you take care of it, The more that you reap. What do you do, with this brittle piece of tanzanite?          When you know it can break, when it hits just right? The perfect pressure, the perfect blow, And now, there's no more golden dust to show The moment it shatters The moment it breaks It does...

In my Villa there's a pool.  A regular rectangular pool. And this was the shining light of heaven when I first arrived there. The pool is right next to this huge building called the clubhouse. It's a public pool, so anyone living in the villa and their guests can go there. Even though it's the best part of the Villa, we don't go there much. Why? Because we need ' parent supervision' .  I call this ridiculous. I know how to swim fairly well, and the pool ain't that deep! OK, imagine a five-foot person. Short, Ok, I know. I'm waiting for a growth spurt. Now, are you imagining them? Now imagine the water at their shoulders. See! Not that deep. And there are floaties (which I'm sure are supposed to be rescue hoops, but everyone just plays with them) in case anyone DOES drown. Which is never gonna happen. All the parents do are sit there. Staring. Not at us, whom they're supposed to be "l ooking after". They look at their PHONES. Or they...