Notting Hill : Why I love it so much

It’s 2:40 am, I’ve finished watching Notting Hill a little while ago, and I’m listening to She by Elvis Costello. I’m delirious because of sleep deprivation, nostalgic because I watched this movie after nine years or so, and as always, a little hungry.

If you haven’t watched the movie, and care about spoilers, please close this tab. If not, read on my ramblings, since you’ve bothered to read this far (Seriously though, I appreciate you, a reader of my irregularly updated blog).

Anna Scott was a Goddess, to quote Bernie, William’s best friend. Oh, and how sad was that his ex-girlfriend(William’s) married his best friend. But I really liked Bella, she was witty and cared for William. Also, I’m just going to refer to Hugh and Julia by their own names, cause that comes naturally to me.

Yeah, so the last time I watched this movie was nearly nine years ago, with my sister. She adores Julia Roberts, and likes all things British. I think I like romantic comedies of this era because I watched them with her.

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Hugh Grant is, obviously, unspeakably handsome. I watched his movie with Sandra, Two Weeks notice, just yesterday. Anyway, so Julia walks into Hugh’s life oh-so-casually, and he ends up falling, and she ends up leaving. I won’t even comment on that, no. This happens twice, but the end of the movie had me in tears(no surprise there). Happy tears, just to be clear. Oh, and she gifts him the original of the painting he has in his house. Happiness isn’t happiness without a violin playing goat, anyone?

And his sister, Honey was… for the lack of a better word, eccentric. I mean, just leave the woman alone in the loo, right? But I get the frenzy and the admiration too.  Spike and Honey were really perfect for each other.

And another favourite dialogue when a random fan offers her his number, she says “Tempting… but no.”

Oh wait, the one that takes away the cake is this one.

Image result for i'm just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her

It displayed a vulnerability that’s hard not to like. I don’t think a lot of people understand what that vulnerability is unless they’re the ones experiencing it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m far from perfect, but I really try.

Anyway, back to Hugh and Julia. The conference is also a really great scene. When the journalist asks her again till when she will be staying in the UK, and she pauses and says “Indefinitely”. My hopeless romantic heart.

I’ll leave a list of songs from the movie here, if anyone’s interested.

She – Elvis Costello

Ain’t No Sunshine – Bill Withers

How Can you mend a broken heart – Al Green

In Our Lifetime – Texas

When You Say Nothing At All – Ronan Keating

From the Heart – Another Level

The Way You Look Tonight – Tony Benett

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Poetic Monochromes

Crush* Cigarettes After Sex

Bones* Young Guns

Heartbreak Warfare* John Mayer

Any lyric or image recommendations are welcome. 🙂

Moments and Possibilities

Moments into possibilities
This will linger
~David Levithan
If there’s one things I’ve learnt this past year, it’s that life will surprise you. Even when you’re expecting a surprise, it’ll be so different from what you were expecting that it wouldn’t cease to be a surprise. Another thing I’ve learnt as the year was closing off, always flowing against tha current isn’t favorable. Sometimes you need to let go and let things take you with their flow.
The trick is to find the balance between fighting for what you want, and letting go what isn’t meant for you.
I think possibilities lie everywhere, from the tiny drop of dew that plopped onto you head from a leaf this morning, to the vast ocean lapping at the shore, day and night, no matter what. If there’s an idea that exists in the world, there are believers of it somewhere. The idea of parallel universes, dimensions, and time travel intrigue me, these are things people would wave off as science fiction.
Then there are possibilities of things happening in your life, of you doing the one thing you have always wanted to, ending up on a beach on a different continent, where you’d have the salty air invading your lungs, making you miss the lemonade you used to drink at home after a tiring session of cricket in your street. I don’t know what possibilities you imagine, but I hope you know there are thousands of them, floating in a realm, waiting for them to happen. Possibilities you wouldn’t believe if you got to know them right now.
When it gets tough, on some days, the thought of possibilities of things I can’t yet imagine keeps me breathing. I never know, maybe I’ll find myself in a bed and breakfast in Scotland someday thinking about how I was having a rough day and thought of this. I could be drinking coffee in a foreign city, talking to a stranger who’d turn into a dear friend, reminiscing of the friends I have today. Who knows? I’ll tell you. No one. And somehow, that’s a good thing. That means you don’t know what good things are coming your way, and this way you get to give your future, the benefit of doubt.
When you come to think of it each year feels so long, but when you think of time in retrospect, moments are long. Moments linger. And they are brimming with possibilities..

Stars and thoughts

Sitting on a stone bench with the cool wind ruffling my thoughts, my shoes perched on the armrest, I’m gazing at the stars. This is more of a journal entry than a public post, but anyway, here goes.
The citylights are twinkling, fading in and out, just like the mosaic of thoughts in my mind.
Two weeks gone, this year does feel different. I was talking to my cousin about the accomplishments of our lives, and that put things in perspective for me. I can’t really fathom how it’s possible for things, people and situations to seem so insignificant and significant at once.

I’m listening to Lost Stars, the Keira Knightley version.
“Woe is me. If we’re not careful turns into reality.”

I try to picture my life often, how I want the future to look like. Up until last year, everything came to me picture perfect with details, now it’s all a hazy blur. But the blur doesn’t feel wrong, or confusing. The colours are a bit faded, the voices are soft and indecipherable. It feels like getting lost inside a story.

I hear a dog howling, it would’ve spooked me a little, but it doesn’t anymore. The only thing I’m scared of anymore, is humans.

I’m on a family vacation, and everyone is in their rooms. Having tea, I imagine. And here I am, alone, looking at the stars. This feels peaceful. The cool breeze of desert winters, the sky full of stars, a city twinkling below me.

Vacation ends tomorrow, but I’m actually looking forward to going back home. Going back to college. The thought of travelling for tomorrow is tiring me already. But after all those hours on wheels, then in the air, and then back on wheels would end up with me reaching home, so it’s all good.
Au revoir for now.

What becomes of the broken hearted?

They live, between shards of glasses cutting them and soft rose petals soaking the blood, and the softness healing their bruises.

They live folded inside the silence of words left unspoken, of books, left unopened.

Quietly they tiptoe through empty hallways of memories long faded, the ghosts of their sounds echoing faintly.

They peek inside doors only to find fading silhouettes.

Yet they softly whisper words of love, because they know someone somewhere needs it.

They smile at the strangeness of it all, a wistful kind of happiness taking them by surprise.

Because no one expects the broken hearted to be happy, not even themselves.

We Needed It

When I try to recall you, you come back to me in pieces. I can’t picture your face like I used to, it’s different now. Maybe it’s better this way, maybe we both needed this. I know you would disagree, I knew you’d figuratively bang your fist on the table and yell at me that it’s not what we needed, it’s what I want. But I only wanted it because it was needed. The smell of your cologne, I still catch a whiff of it sometimes. And my eyes scan the place, even though it’s highly unlikely that they’d find you there. Then sometimes I see my bookshelf and my eyes fall on a book you gifted me, my mind reeling back to days, to moments. Flipping through the memories at the speed of a hundered miles per hour, the intensity still as hard. Love isn’t supposed to bind you, it’s supposed to set you free. And we stopped doing that for each other, after a particular time. It was impossible to accept for you, I had finally found the courage, and you hated me for it. I flip through my old journals, I had showered the pages with your praises. When I see someone else’s palm, I reminisce how there were so many lines on yours. How they matched with the ones on my palm, making me believe we would actually end up together. I think of you when someone hands me a mug of coffee because you made faces but made coffee for me anyway. I still have your red t-shirt, I refuse to throw it away. I would, like you threw away so many things that remind you of me, but I refuse to because it doesn’t trigger me. It’s a reminder of how we had good times even though things ended in an ugly place. I wish you knew I didn’t hate you like you thought I did, and that I’m not as cold as you believe I am. But maybe, just maybe, it’s okay because it makes things easier for you. I’ve learnt it’s possible to miss someone and not want them back. It’s possible to love someone, yet not like them anymore.

Cold Winter Mornings

I remember how the birds sang when it was five in the morning and the stars were still visible.

I remember when I tiptoed out, trying to be as light on my feet as humanly possible.

I remember how the chill of winter seeped through my sweater onto my shivering skin.

I remember how my pet barked and the sound echoed into the dewy dawn.

I remember how my eyes adjusted to the dark, and my skin to the cold.

I remember when my feet on the gravel made me cringe.

I remember how the warmth of my blanket seemed like welcoming arms.

I remember running up to the terrace

I remember seeing the sun paint the sky with the color of beginnings.

I remember the day I snuck out to see the sunrise.

I remember what it felt like to be ten

I remember what it feels like to be mesmerized by the beauty.

I remember, because these winter mornings, I still am.