Diwali

That's Diwali for another year, it seems. We didn't have our own party this year, as my mother had five invitations from various family friends to their parties. She accepted all five invitations so she could, as she said, keep her options open, and finally chose yesterday. I wish we could have had our own party, as I like them - I generally invite my own friends and everyone takes part in the puja. But this year we went to a family friend, as said before. Their party was starting at seven. We were late. But that's another story. Before we went, we had our own puja and prasad, and then Pedar and I went round the house with a tray of diyas - that is, tealights. We put a couple in my room, a few in the kitchen, some in the bathroom (it's traditional, I don't know why) and some on either side of the front door. Diwali is new moon - they shine brighter because of it.

Eight hours later, only one is still burning. It's the one in the bathroom, ironically enough.

But I'm skipping ahead of myself. The party thing we went to wasn't too bad, although it wasn't all that fantastic. We got there very late but in time for the fireworks. The only people of my age were Harsh and Manpreet (one is much too solemn for his own good, and the other's a hyperactive raving lunatic - together they're very good company) and they were setting off rockets and Catherine wheels. I like lighting fireworks - I ran down to help Harsh-the-pyromaniac, who was waving around a rocket and saying, "Bigger is better!"

["Are you compensating for something?" I asked]

But the fireworks were fun. There were lots of people there tonight, most of whom I knew slightly as friends of my parents. There's one girl, Shefali, whom I used to watch-over-from-afar last year. She's Lower Four now and apparently doesn't need this any longer, but she doesn't look any older (I know, neither do I, but that's not the point), and neither does Chanun, Manpreet's bratty younger sister. When I say brat, I really do mean it. Spoilt rotten and got a mouth on her like a foghorn.

But thankfully, I didn't have to babysit. Manpreet and Harsh and I have several things in common, the main one of which is music. We were listening to Muse's Absolution (so far, I have only really heard Time is Running Out) and the Darkness ("Ibelieveinathingcalledlooooove!") and following that, some good cover versions. There's a Marilyn Manson version of the Eurhythmics' Sweet Dreams, apparently - there's also a Turin Brakes version of No Scrubs. Myself, I recommend Tori Amos's version of Teen Spirit (no, I'm not kidding) and my personal favourite, the Travis cover of (wait for it) Baby One More Time. That last one in particular is the most inspired cover version in the history of cover versions.

I think I had a good time. I certainly felt very mellow, sitting and giggling and listening to music that I do like, not music I have to put up with, and talking about various things, including the logistics of round doors. I stand by the opinion that round doors would be impossible to open and close. Manpreet disagreed. By dint of several sheets of paper and complicated demonstrations, he attempted to convince me otherwise. It was fun.

We also talked about Discworld. Some time ago, I disgusted him by saying I'd never read any of the books, and we put that right and annoyed Harsh, as well. He has apparently been trying to read Mort for a year, but never got around to it. Manpreet approves of Jingo, which I am reading at the moment, and he assured me that nothing happens to Vetinari in this one. It occurred to me that in every book I have read featuring him in more than a cameo role, something happens to him. He's been poisoned, forcibly impersonated, sedated, shot and lamed. Interestingly, the Discworld has only one gun, and he was still shot with it.

I'm going to lend Manpreet a couple of my CDs - Sleeping with Ghosts and Gutterflower - and in return, he's lent me The Wee Free Men. This is apparently the one with the Nac Mac Feegle. I'll have to read it next week and give it back to him at the debate on Tuesday.

Oh dear.

I reached that point, and the computer wanted to know if it should update my clock for Daylight Savings Time. Consequently, I am going to post this entry before I've written it. How surreal. I get an extra hour's sleep, though. I like GMT for that reason alone.

But yes... Diwali is over. That means my mother's birthday is soon. Her name is Deepali - she was apparently born on Diwali, but her birthday and Diwali have never coincided since. I should find out when it's next due to happen.

I'm going to bed, but before that - Lord Vetinari can juggle!

And now it's time to turn off the lights.

Tomorrow - scythes, trains and Death.

I have just had a long, involved argument about tomorrow with shipperkitten.

[It went along the lines of:
"Meanie."
"You are! You're making me get out of bed!"
and
"Yes!"
"No!"
"Yes!"]

However, seeing as we are mature, reasonable nearly-adults, we have reached a certain level of agreement. For some reason, Em wants to get into town at the crack of dawn. There's a train that gets into Central at eleven-fifteen - I propose me, Enid and Becca all try to catch that, and Hannah, Clare and Em will meet us.

And the rest of the day will plan itself. As a general piece of relevant information, tomorrow is one of the first days where sunset is before five. "Be home before dark" is day by day going to mean something different.

I am going to have to catch the train tomorrow carrying a bloody scythe. How ridiculous can you possibly look? I'm tempted to wear the coat with the black hood, not wear a scarf, sweep my arms around a lot and say things like I AM BECOME DEATH...

I am going to miss the scythe, though. I rather like having it around. It's hanging off the lampshade at the moment and casting interesting shadows on the wall.

In other news, I have dispatched a fic to a beta. Isn't that something to get excited about? Anyway, said beta turns out to be more of a grammar whore than me. I am very, very impressed.

And while I'm here, hello, rynne. I haven't got over to FAP yet, but I did notice you were here. Hello. Welcome to the insanity.