Warning: don't read this

When I laid in bed last night, I had trouble falling asleep. My mind began to wander, and it landed on all things, the subject of him. And the more I thought about him, I began to cry. It's been a long time since he made me cry. But cry I did, just as used to before - at night, in the dark. In my bed with the covers tucked under my chin. My pillow soaked through and through. And I had to put my Ipod on to stop the tears.

I don't miss him. And I don't miss what we had. But I do miss the person that I was. Quite a bit.

What I miss most about that person is how she used to be able to tell people what she thought of them.

And that's what I'm going to do right now. Because I'm incredibly sick and tired of this.

I'm tired of hearing you bitch about how when you come home from work, all you do is more work. I know that we offer to help you. And you know what you do? You turn down the offers. So you have two options - either do the work yourself and quit complaining about it or let us help you. It can't go down both roads, where you do things your way and then bitch about how no one will help you. That's crap. And also, I'm tired of you not understanding that I'm an adult now. I have my own life and with that comes my own obligations - you don't control me anymore. Stop agreeing with me that I need to lose weight and then forcing more food onto my plate. Stop asking me what is happening in my doctor's appointments and then butting in with your own clinical advice. Stop telling me what the definition of "clean" is for my room. Stop asking me how much money I'm spending. Stop asking me when every exam is and how I did on each and every one. Stop asking me who everyone is and where I'm going. I'm tired of it. It's getting real old real fast.

I'm fed up that whenever we fight - as rare as it is - that you never come after me to talk to me. It's always me having to IM you first. Or call you first. Or talk first. That's crap. You're equally at fault if not more at fault, and it's not fair at all. You make me feel like such a baby, having to crawl back to everything. It's like you don't even give a damn that I'm upset; to me, it comes across that what we argued about isn't important, nor are my feelings, nor am I. And it also seems like it doesn't really upset you either. You just blow it off to one of my "moods" or whatever you'd like to call it. Let me tell you something. It's not moodiness. I'm seriously upset. I'm tired of you always complaining how we're boring when you come to visit me - I have enough going on without having to worry about how to entertain you when you're around. And most importantly, I'm tired of having to tell you all of this over and over again without you getting it. You're not stupid. You get it. So do something about it.

I'm tired of the fact that you never call me back. I've called you over and over again, and for whatever reason, you just don't call me back. And it's funny the first couple of times, but now it's plain hurtful. Is my friendship of no value to you anymore? It's so retarded that we live in the same area now and I still barely see you. The one time we've actually hung out this year is the time I initiated it. Seriously, I feel like crap. And maybe you think that's childish of me, but it matters to me that you rarely keep in touch anymore. And you know what else? Sometimes when you joke around, it's not funny. It's downright mean. I've been incredibly offended by some of the stuff you say. The only time you say stuff that's nice is when you're tipsy. And I feel like a total bitch right now for saying this, but I'm in an incredibly bad mood right now and it's all coming out, what's bothering me.

I'm tired of being advising me to go take care of my migraines. Holy shit! That's incredibly brilliant! I should of thought of that YEARS ago! Morons. Do you think I enjoy being like this? Don't you think that I've been trying to get rid of them? So fuck you. I'm not stupid, and I know that if I have a problem with migraines, I need to take care of it. And that's what I'm doing. Just because it's slow progress and you don't see what I'm doing doesn't mean that I'm not doing anything for them.

I'm tired of being late all of the time.

And I've run out of steam right now.

And another one bites the dust

My ring was on the dresser, as I suspected. My finger feels whole again.

When Corey and Shawn were younger, things were better for 'em.

And I'm getting out of here as soon as I can.

Last night, I did something out of the ordinary for myself. I packed in a record time of five minutes and jumped into my car. Within a half hour, I was on Wacker Drive.

And I didn't even speed!

Okay, maybe a little. But I was still going slower than everyone else! Shut up.

Anyway. Like I was saying. Remember how my last blog entry was about how I realized what was making me so unhappy? I've felt better since I figured it out and got it off my chest. And then suddenly, while driving to class this morning, I had another realization. No! I want to use big words, so I'm gonna call it an ephiphany.

I don't want to live here anymore.

And I love Chicago.

Okay, so that's TWO ephiphanies, sue me!

It's not medical school that sucks. It's Downers Grove that does. This campus puts you into culture shock, especially since you're transitioning from the Quad to this dinky place. There are only a few things I like about living here:

1. When you study at the desks that face the windows in the library, you can see the trees and all the pretty colors of leaves. Of course, that'll be gone by the time I start studying there more consistently. But then there will be snow. And that's pretty to see too.

2. It's like, a four minute walk from the door of my room into the lecture hall where I have classes. Come to think of it, it's a four minute walk from the door of my room to any corner of campus. That is nothing to complain about after standing at the bus stop waiting for the 22 and then finding out it's late and then your butt falls off your body because you're SO DAMN COLD.

3. I can come home to eat lunch. Like you stroll on it, have yourself some normal food - or in my case, insanely fobby food that even my mother teases me about - and you watch some silly tv shows and then you leave again. I dunno. It makes me feel good and healthy, you see?

4. Um . . . there really isn't anything else. Yeah.

And it's so BORING here. Like, fo real - what is there to do around here? Yeah, there's a lot of your run-of-the-mill restaurants around here, but nigga please - I grew up with my parents and my mama. There is no way on earth I would be happy eating at all of these chain restaurants. I miss eating at places where that restaurant was the only one of its kind and it managed to be better than any other place ever created. And you know what? You can get that in Champaign, especially Chinese. Good lord, do I miss the Chinese food there.

And on top of that, after a certain time, this place just dies. It's like you could die walking to the library, and no one would find you until the next morning when they're trampling your body going to class. Okay, that's a little gruesome and extreme and completely unrealistic, but poo, it's my blog and it's Halloween. I can say shit like that, yo. But for real! It's totally empty and I absolutely hate it.

And you know, I commented on that in my last blog - one of the reasons I'm so lonely is that I became so accustomed to the undergraduate lifestyle, where there's this constant pulsation of life. And that doesn't exist here.

But it does exist in the city. Good lord, does it ever.

The city is beautiful at night. All of those lights that shine. They're so purty. I know some people detest the way the city looks - all the high rise buildings, the architechture, so on and so forth . . . but I gotta say, it's such a part of the culture, and if it wasn't the way it was, it wouldn't be Chicago. You know? I like how when you walk down the street or drive, you can look up into the sky and see all those buildings towering into the sky. I dunno how else to explain it.

And the city is beautiful in the morning too, but in a whole different way. I woke up and I could still see the sun streaming in, reflecting off of all the windows. And when I made it outside, everyone was hustling. But for once, it's not a stream of students all going to the same building. Instead, it's individuals - each with their own agenda, each with their histories and lives, and they're all running together but to separate goals. And I liked watching them. There's that man getting off the train, and he's in a suit and he's got a briefcase, and I got to wondering what he does with his life. Then I got distracted by the woman that pulled into the parking garage with a Mercedes SUV (sucks to be her. Can you imagine how much she pays in the gas when she's got an SUV and drives in the city? Damn!) and she's wearing sunglasses. Lady, it's thirty something degrees out. You don't look cool with those on.

But you know what I mean? I absolutely did not want to leave this morning. And for all of my friends that currently read this and may come to read this in the future, you should know that I'm insanely jealous of you. I'm the only one that's stuck in this lifestyle, chained to a desk reading, dreaming of living something cooler. And the rest of you are either already doing that or one step away! You're interviewing for jobs that allow you you to be in this environment or you're in the process of looking for a place that lets you live in the center of this pulse or you've already got both of those things, damnit.

I'm not saying that none of you don't deserve that. All I'm saying is that I want it too. Since I was a kid, I dreamt of going to medical school in the city - it was my time to say that I'm young, intelligent, and independent and all life is about at this life is to work hard and play harder. I don't regret taking the DO route - clinically, it's so great that I wouldn't trade it in for the world. But deep down, part of me wishes I was at an MD school, because every last one of them is in the city.

I miss Champaign, but truth be told, more and more of me feels like I'm starting to grow up. And signs of that are everywhere. Bhajya uncle commented how mature and responsible I suddenly looked; all you have to do is log onto Facebook and see that people are no longer posting pictures of a night out at the bar but rather, of showers and weddings; recently, nights spent watching your favorite TV show with your best friend sound like they'd make you happy. And the reason I bring this up is because I feel like even though I miss Champaign, I've outgrown some aspects of it. What I miss about Champaign is what I could get in the city.

And so rises the question - where will I live this summer? And next year? And during rotations?

Suddenly, commuting is starting to sound like an incredibly attractive option.

Of course, I could just be emotional right now for feminine reasons *ahem* and this could be a passing fancy.

But deep down, I think I know that it's not. I have to get out of here.

Things have always been centered around money. It's one of the biggest reasons I'm living on campus. The dorms come out to be about under $600 a month; I have plenty of room here; it's convenient to get to class; not to mention I can pick up food at home once a week and minimize meal plans and the cost of gas. But you know what? I'm not HAPPY here. All that's running through my head right now is how when I'm doing posting this, I'm going to jump in my car and leave. I don't know where I'm going yet, but I'm getting the hell out of here for the rest of the day.

If you got this far, thanks man! I know my posts get long, but truth is while some of my writing style is for an audience, the actual act of writing is for me to feel good. So . . . sorry man. God, I'm playing the man game by myself. This is sad.

Kavi out . . . I stole it again!!

A breakthrough. Finally.

I think I've finally got it. And I'm chill enough to write it. Let's see how well I organize it.

I have this class called History of Medicine. It's a joke and it's garbage. The grade is pass/fail and dependent soley on a paper we write. No attendance for class, no quizzes, no exams - just a paper that someone may or may not read, but in case the bigshot does read it, it has to be decent.

I finished the research already, and I started writing it. Before I started writing, I color coded my notes and set up the order in which I would discuss my topic. The introduction was blue, the education was green, the Civil War was yellow . . . it just made sense to go through all the material once so it would be easier to write everything up. And it worked! I wrote up a page, handwritten, in about 25 minutes. Not bad.

And I wish this post could be like that. Where all the pieces fall together and make sense, where it flows harmoniously. Unfortunately, my life is more like that paper you throw together the night before, exactly what I'm trying to avoid to do. You have all these details, but they're all scattered about, and all you're doing is frantically trying to put them together in a way that makes sense, but no matter how hard you try, you end up exhausted and the product is a disaster.

That's a horrible way to think of your life.

I've been searching and searching, and I finally discovered why I've been so unhappy. Ready?

*drumroll*

I'm lonely.

That's profound. I'm here in Downers Grove, and I hate it. HATE IT. I thought coming to medical school would be this whole new phase in life where I would be so content, but I'm so far from that, it's not even funny.

I never thought I would say it, due to so many people ruining my senior year. But I miss undergrad so much that it hurts some time. I really do. I miss having an apartment, where your bed is big! Where more than one person can fit in it as opposed to smooshing together so you don't fall off. I miss having a couch where you can take naps. I miss my kitchen - good lord, I miss my kitchen. I miss the big bathtub. I miss the ability to walk across a few feet of floor and find someone to talk to, even if you were interrupting something important.

I miss running upstairs to get things that I forgot to pick up at Meijer. I miss through the alley to borrow a pair of earrings. I miss running across the street to find someone that could make me laugh when I thought I'd never stop crying. I miss the 22 that would take me to the Quad. I miss cutting through Loomis to warm up my hands before I continued walking to the Union.

I miss the crispy tofu, and I miss my crispy tofu girls. I miss the Taco Bell runs. I miss that no matter what time the clock said, there was something open. I miss the late nights at Lincoln Hall, yelling counts. I miss the gas prices. Even though they're dropping here, I know in the back of my mind that it's cheaper in Champaign.

I hate this new lifestyle, where you're up early in the morning and when you come home, there isn't time to breathe. It's straight to chaining yourself until night falls, and then you do the routine all over again. I miss my 10 am classes where I'd come home by 2 pm and have a chance to eat something that I cooked, have a chance to check my email and respond immediately, have a chance to get a lot of reading done - all at once!

But the thing I miss the MOST about undergrad? There's this constant pulsation of life. You know that no matter what is going on, what day it is, what time it is - there's always someone there. Someone's awake. Sometimes, the bells ring here at school, and it reminds me of the nights I'd lay in bed and smile to myself when I could hear the Altgeld bells. It was a time when falling asleep was so easy and felt so good. And now when I hear the bells? I just feel empty. Like something's missing.

Have you ever felt that you're a dot on a really big piece of paper? Someone could just walk by and brush you off and no one would really notice. I mean, the person with OCD would see that the paper got a little neater, but otherwise, no one really cares. That's how I feel about me, my life. I'm just a blip on the page, and if I was gone, no one would really take note of it.

Okay, now, don't start thinking I'm suicidal or anything, because I'm not. And I know really deep down that it's not true. I know that my mom thinks of me every day, and my sister misses me a lot. Tonight, when I called, she immediately asked if something was wrong. She could tell that something was a little off. I know that my mama takes a lot of pride in me, more than I ever realized, and I know my kiddies really love me when the rare chance comes for me to spend time with them. Maybe there's more people too - I can think of a few additional.

But sometimes, all you need is that hug and someone telling you that they needed you. Or an email showing that your wake up calls are appreciated. Or a phone call telling you that you're loved and missed. I don't know if I'm needy or that this is just a hard adjustment period, but I feel as though I need them more than I ever have.

Ever since I was in high school, I always had this need to keep a bravado up. I didn't cry in front of anyone, and the few times I did, I would my face so you couldn't really see me. If I fought with my parents, I pretended everything was fine. Keep smiling, and if anyone asks, tell them everything's good. I've been doing this for years now, and it's really starting to tear me up inside. It's come to a point now that even when a slight thing is wrong, I don't say anything. It's better to pretend that everything's well and dandy than admit that there's something going on. Because I'm strong, right? I don't need anyone. I should be able to take care of myself, and I will take care of myself. Independence. That's what it's all about.

But I'm starting to think that I can't do this anymore. I need to be around the people I love more often than I can right now. I need someone to tell me that I matter to them. It's the first time that I've actually came out and said it. But now I'm at a loss. I don't want to burden anyone. I don't want to bring the party down when we're all having a good time. What do I do now - tell everyone, drop everything, because I could sure use some good ol' fashioned TLC? Where is the line between being selfless and selfish?

I don't even know where to go from here - the tears are flowing and my head is aching, but they say that can be therapeutic. Maybe what I need is to be totally exhausted, emotionally. Anne said that it was soothing, and I love her. Always have and always will - she's a big source of comfort to me.

I'm so lost. I wish I could be found.

Ha, maybe I need to accept Jesus in my life. :-P

I don't know what to do anymore.

The dean and I were talking, and I was commenting on how intimidating it is to be around my classmates so much of the time. They all come to class on time, even if they're driving from a bazillion miles away, whereas I roll out of bed and am there in five minutes. They're all set to go, with their cups of coffee and multiple colors of highlighter, something I told myself I wouldn't fall to but I have. They just seem so put together and confident. It's frightening. But she told me that don't believe all that you see.

I know there isn't anyone that completely happy. You may have achieved great things in your life - being the first in your family to graduate from college, supporting everyone in the extended family, but you end up sitting at home everyday by yourself with nothing to do. You may have been getting good grades all this time but still panic when there's a quiz coming up. You might be really well behaved but no one really pays attention to you because your sister demands it. You might be living in the city with a good job but have to take lame standardized tests and fill out boring applications with your profession on the line. You might have enough money to buy a BMW but your parents drive you up the wall about petty details and superhero abilities that you don't have.

But I remember a time where I was very happy. Very content. And I'm wondering what I can do to get it back.

I got so lonely tonight that the idea of calling Yaveen passed through my mind. Yaveen. That's right. It was a passing fancy. But the fact that it even crossed my thoughts shows how isolated I feel.

The patient's subjective point of view has been presented. Upon an objective examination, we have made an assessment. The diagnosis of loneliness has been made.

But now what?

What can you prescribe for me?

I'm talking to Monkey Ulysses S Grant. And I did something out of character. When she asked how medical school was, I told her I was unhappy. And she told me I could do it. It feels weird to do this. To actually reach out and talk to someone as opposed to waiting to be spoken to; to tell someone and receive pity. Some parts of it I don't like.

But maybe trying something new, something that I usually don't do, is what the doctor ordered.

I've gotten a lot off my chest, but I still have much on my mind. Look at how long this has gotten.

One time, I spilled everything to Shady Bubbles. In response, his comment was:

"How do you fit all that in your head? I can't even get my Arabic homework done."

So now what?

I'm exhausted.

Maybe this is what I needed.

For now. And until next time . . .

Kavi out.

Um. I dunno?

I'm not quite sure why I'm posting right now. I don't really think I have much to talk about. But I'm at work right now, proctoring an exam - and while I probably should be studying for my upcoming anatomy exam, I'm so sleepy. I guess I'm blogging to stay awake. I have the oddest sense of deja vú right now - I remember in my last blog, I started a post very similar to the way I'm starting this one.

Last night, I had some family time, and I didn't expect it to feel so good, but it did. I know that's an odd thing to say. But maybe I just needed some of that cozy time to feel less isolated and such; it did wonders for me. I was able to come back and do laundry and clean and be productive, not to mention the fact that I was able to wake up on time. That in itself is a miracle.

It's funny that now that I have my own space, I really enjoy spending time with my sister. Before, she would follow me around every moment of the day, and me being as independent as I am, it would just drive me up the wall. But we chat pretty often during the week over the phone - I'll help her with homework or get filled in on the juiciness of 6th grade gossip. Ah, the good ol' days. It's kind of fun to listen to her jabber on and on, and sometimes, she just says THE most ridiculous things. Often, I look at her and wish I could be that laid back, that I used to be that laid back. Hopefully, that'll come back to me in due time. She just takes life in stride - nothing really gets to her. We caught up in the car last night, and all throughout dinner, we were whispering back and forth. I remember Yaveen and my dad talking one time, and Yaveen mentioned how he wasn't close to Deepak and my dad telling him how he was missing out on something big time. It's one of the big things I didn't like about him - what a lack of family orientation he had. And the fact that he wasn't even willing to look at it from a different angle or give him a shot. Sure, siblings have their differences and falling outs sometimes, but god, you can't be that stubborn and expect to have any sort of healthy relationship with anyone. I don't think I've ever really said it, but I love the fact that Aashay and Radhika get along so well. It's just . . . well, it's hard to describe, but that sort of relationship just gives you a cozy feeling, you know?

I saw my kaki last night - we found out over Winter Break last year that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. Even though I know my family has some beef with her, I can't say I mind her too much. I didn't watch too carefully yesterday, but I was thinking about even though she had chemotherapy - she's wearing a wig - she seems fairly upbeat and active. I mean, she cooked dinner for quite a brood yesterday, and it was pretty good. She seems to have a fairly optimistic attitude. It's such a striking difference from my masi. She was so down all the time and frustrated with being sick. Not that I blame her. With the migraines I used to have so constantly, not to mention the random ones that still slam from time to time, I can relate. But sometimes I wonder that if she had a more go-get-'em attitude maybe she would have made it longer. I feel awful saying that. I mean, I've noticed this tendency for people to avoid speaking ill of those that have passed away, but it's something to keep in mind. Statistics say that you're more likely to beat cancer with a positive attitude, which makes sense. Then again, I remember hearing that when they actually diagnosed my masi with cancer, she was already in the third stage, meaning there was a near zero chance that they could turn it around. My poor masa. Two of his kids are doctors, and they understood very clearly what the diagnosis meant from the get go; they never told him though. He found out a week or so before she actually died that she had no chance of making it, from another doctor nonetheless. When she died, I didn't cry for her - she pushed as long as she could in the hospital to make sure she saw everyone important to her before she left. My younger mama was the last one to make it to the hospital, and she smiled and recognized him before she slipped into a coma. I was glad when she did die, because she was just so miserable and in so much pain. But I hate the idea of my masa being alone. He has this huge house and it's just him and his youngest son, who doesn't talk very much. My masi was the kind of woman that could NOT shut up if her life depended on it - she reminded me of a bird; it just seemed like she would flutter about constantly, always doing something.

Anyway. I digress. I think the point of that rambling was to have a positive attitude. Wow, I could have said that in a lot shorter way. :-P

I saw my kiddies last night. Justin was his chill self, as usual; Sonia was her cute yet demanding self, as usual. I felt bad though - I know she was looking forward to spending time with me, and I really didn't get the chance to play with her as much as either of us wanted to. I ate with the adults (good God, I AM an adult - how scary), and then afterwards, Nikita and I were going through old photo albums that my kaka has. Being so much younger, Nikita missed out on all the family goodness that used to go around when I was growing up; we went through some wedding albums and I showed her who everyone is. My mom called me upstairs - turns out my mota masi - she's my mom's older sister that I met for the first time last night - had brought all these old pictures and we had SO much fun going through them. There were pictures of my mom being all mad as a kid, some others of my younger mama in a diaper. Let me tell you, the kids had a FIELD day with that one! Then some of my older mama in bell bottoms. Ha, I made fun of him for that. It was just cool, you know? Seeing how us kids actually looked like our parents; seeing how some of the adults had the same features and mannerisms that continued from their childhood to the present day.

Hash, for not having anything to talk about it, I wrote a lot. Oops. I do that sometimes.

Alright, the timer is about to go off. So off I go!

Popular?

I'll admit that I've got an addiction. I compulsively check away messages.

Okay, so that's not a big shock, right? I mean, anyone that spends any amount of AIM will admit to the same. You just scroll up and down and check random people's away messages; when you're REALLY bored, you end up looking at everyone's.

I took a look at Sudheer's today, and here's what it said:

let's face it...life is one big popularity contest...

and in today's Class of 2010 elections for class officers, i totally won that contest

life is good.

And the first thing that came to my mind was . . .

how pathetic.

Okay, maybe that's a bit mean. I remember wanting to be popular more than anything. All of the girls in my class shopped at the Gap. Please. I'm brooju (for those of you that don't know what that means, it's shorthand for "broke guju"). No one in my house even knew what the Gap WAS, for God's sakes. But I mentioned it to my mom so many times that when we passed it one day, she agreed to take my in to browse. I remember wandering the store and thinking to myself, these clothes aren't anything special. And when my mother looked at the pricetags, she promptly dragged my ass right out of the store. Even now, when I actually like the Gap (hey, their clothes fit!), I only shop there when my aunt has given my sister and me a ton of giftcards and I used them all up at once. Because I'm not REALLY paying for it, you see. Shut up.

But it was always something like that. A certain TV show or band, a particular pair of jeans or hairstyle, an extracurricular. But that was back in junior high, for God's sakes. I mean, we're all so much older now. Everyone I know is about to embark into the professional world, where you wear business suits and eat boring breakfast cereal. I didn't think that sort of thing mattered anymore. And let's face it - medical school classes are decently large. To get to know everyone in your class, it would take a good amount of time. I mean, it took me years to know who was in junior high class, and even now, I probably know 10% of my graduating high school class. Don't even get me started on undergrad. How can that be considered a popularity contest when people don't even KNOW you? Seriously - I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if he created for himself a reputation of being "extremely smart and social". Please.

Would it feel good if a lot of my class knew me simply because my name had been dropped so often and they elected me into a position such as class officer? Sure, I suppose it'd make me feel good for a day or so. But I'd rather be known for who I really am rather than this facade I have or an impression that people have of me. I'd like to be known for the intelligence I possess without arrogance (ahem), for being genuinely caring and honest, so on and so forth. And on top of all of that, I don't think that popularity would satisfy me in the least. My life wouldn't mean anything without the people that are closest to me. Take me and Sruth, for instance. Granted, I consider it a bit unusual how as the years have gone on, we've just gotten meaner to one another, but there isn't anyone that just READS my mind that way she does and vice versa. She's able to say what I think before it comes out of my mouth. How many people are lucky enough to have that? Or go with Kapoori. How many people can give me a hug and make it all better, and then tops it off with some sort of food? Seriously. If you want to gain weight, all you gotta do is hang out with the guy, because food is just absolutely necessary for socialization. But if you want someone just to make you feel better simply by sitting next to you, he's your man. I've got my girls - RT, Irene, Ritu, and now Bijal - that when things go down, they'll knock on your door with Chinese or pizza and just bash on whoever is being mean to you. And don't even get me started on Aashay - is it possible for someone to make you laugh when you're crying harder than you thought was possible? Did you know that someone could care about you that deeply while allowing you to be independent; did you know that someone could be that sweet to you without feeling the need to gag? Did you know that someone could support you and root for you the whole time you felt like you weren't going to make it, and when you do, they cheer with you?

I told you not to get me started - now I'm getting all sappy, and YES, I'm crying as I write this - Sruth, if you make fun of me for that, I swear to God, I'll whoop your ass. I only cry over dream engagements, aite?

But I digress. The point is, each of these relationships possess some sort of depth, and I love each and every one of them for how unique and open they are, for the fun that we all share, and such business. I have to say - as more and more times passes, the less and less I can fathom liking Sudheer, and even though he was an ASS when he dumped me, I have a lot of pity for the man - if your satisfaction has to come from winning popularity contests, your life must be . . . sad.