A layman’s guide to mug cakes

The origins of this obsession can be traced back to 4 years. That’s when I found a recipe to this and made it for the first time for me. Need I even describe the experience?

What’s amazing about a mug cake?

  • it’s happiness come in a mug!
  • SOOO easy to make!
  • short and sweet process.
  • it’s CAKE y’all.
  • you can top it with literally anything

Ever since I made it, I’ve been obsessed with it, and next followed multiple experiments and improvisations to the recipe, and I can proudly say now I’m an expert at mug cakes.

So my recipe goes like this:

Things you’ll need:

  • flour
  • milk
  • cocoa powder (unsweetened)
  • sugar
  • butter
  • baking soda
  • a fork
  • salt

How to make this:

  • take a dry mug and add 2 and a half tablespoons of flour.
  • add sugar based on your stress levels. for good outcome I would recommend 1 tablespoon of sugar.
  • add 2 tablespoons of cocoa powder (unsweetened)
  • now, add 1 cup of milk and whisk well with your fork.
  • add 1 teaspoon of butter and 1 teaspoon of baking soda.
  • add a pinch of salt for professionalism.
  • mix this in well, and heat for 3 mins in a microwave.
  • NOTE: AFTER MIXING IN EVERYTHING, MAKE SURE YOUR UNCOOKED BATTER ISN’T ABOVE HALF THE LEVEL OF THE MUG, OR ELSE IT’S GOING TO OVERFLOW.
  • wash the fork you used to mix the batter, with water, and dry. use to eat the cake.
  •  if it’s an extra stressful day add a scoop of ice cream.

AAAND YOU’RE DONE.

YOU CAN SHARE YOUR RESULT WITH ME ON INSTAGRAM @crazylittlerowling.

  • extra shit to keep in mind: you can substitute the cocoa powder with chocolate syrup or even better, with dark chocolate chunks.
  • just remember to melt the chunks before adding milk. half to quarter a bar of chocolate would work.
  • you can skip the salt and butter if you’d want.

 

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Misfit.

I look around and think “I will fit.”

But will I be a perfect piece

to complete the puzzle?

 

Will I be the one piece

that will make a difference?

I breathe in confusion.

 

What if I don’t fit here?

What if I bring down

the puzzle altogether?

 

I snuggle myself in

the spaces found,

but I am not warmed.

 

I find my mind freezing ,

to the point where I think

I don’t belong in this world.

 

My mind squirms

to corners of warmth

to get more frostbitten.

 

I breathe cold exhaustion

and exasperation,

among tears that adorn my skin.

 

I blink among the tears

and look around, with

foggy eyes and an evident mind.

 

I see that I don’t belong

to a puzzle piece.

I don’t make a picture complete.

I am a beautiful complete picture.

-Shashvathi S H

(hoping to see with an evident mind, and embrace the complete picture I am.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Angels that set the world on fire.

I see faces that stare into mirrors everyday, as they die,
I lunge those souls that breathed their last,
of surprise and thoughtfulness on to my shoulders,
and carry them to my abode of sleep.

But this one, I did not.
This one, stared at the mirror as she felt the monsters lurk behind her.
She looked at her face and smiled as though,
the monsters were going to gift her.
The monsters stabbed her with pleasure.
But she smiled on at the mirror.
I picked her cold body off of her blood,
and cried out “Why?”
“These monsters saved me from angels,
that would set me on fire,
And watch me shed my last drop of blood.”
-Shashvathi S Hariharan
 

Chaos- poetry.

C H A O S

Lungs filled with smoke,
Eyes covered in fog,
Mouth stuffed with sand,
Mind gelled out into chaos.

Living among scrunched up
paper and meagre amounts of ink,
I live art and
breathe Magic.

My mind tangled
amongst twists in my hair,
and the scent of
far fetched memories.

My lips burnt
of biting in doubt and anger.
My soul yearns to feel
warmth that singes, yet comforts.

My eyes simmer in pain,
my heart shrinks in ache,
my hands burn from scars,
my feet buckle under agony.

Is life truly a balance?
Is doubt in reality, fear
sheathed among layers?
Is my heart truth or my mind sane?

Questions linger in my mind
Mending my brain
into stitched up layers of fabric
But should I fear or embrace them?

Life is truly a choice between
Embrace and embarrass,
For not all glitters are gold,
And not all are to be embraced.

I sigh as I breathe confusion
Exhale madness
And consume guilt
And expel passion.

This is a barf of some recent thoughts that gel in my mind. Thought I should share it. Don’t ponder too much over it, sometimes I’m truly crazy.

Yours truly

CrazyLittleRowling  ; )

A serial killer with a sense of humour.

I sleepily opened my car’s trunk and bent over and picked up a black plastic bag and slowly walked toward the river, digging my nose furiously, with my free hand.

I enjoy moments of solitude. No one around to stare at you digging your nose or scratch your ass, as you contemplate if he’s the next one to experience your beloved knife’s cold metal.

Yes, I’m a psychopath. I have extreme tendencies to kill, and fortunately I was smart and lucky enough to avoid run- ins with the law.

I looked around squinting sleepy eyed, to check if anyone was there. I undressed the cover to reveal six smaller bags. I looked around another time, and undressed one another cover, and picked the pair of arms and run them across my nose. Aaah, the mingled smell of a dead body and it’s perfume.

I threw the arms into the river as I stepped back and heard the convincing splash.

Next, I emptied the legs onto the array of water as I heard the water make way for its gifts from me. As I emptied the covers, there was eerie silence. It felt like the world had silenced so I could hear the river splashing as it accepted my gifts.

Lastly, I undressed the last cover; the most unacceptable of them all: the head of my last victim. I slowly picked the head and took a deep breath, and let the head roll into the water when I heard the sound that I dreaded.

I heard two splashes, and if I was not mistaken, I had only one victim today, that meant only one head, unless my victim was a greek character that had sprouted another in the meantime.

I quickly turned on my flashlight, quickly and shone it around to see who was the one who had thrown in something into the river. I had to catch hold of this guy, who could possibly have seen what I’d just fed to the river. I felt my handcuffs in my back pocket and reached out to them, as I moved in quietly, swearing under my breath.

I shone it around and found a woman dumping a pair of arms. I swore I saw it. I mean what are the odds you meet a fellow serial killer while dumping a body? I stuffed the torchlight into my pocket and fled, because being a serial killer I knew what would be your fate if you spotted a serial killer dumping a body.

I quickly made my way into my car, and tried to quickly switch them on and flee when I felt my hand stuck. I couldn’t move it.

I was wrestled to the ground, and my face was facing a torchlight, and an exceptionally strong woman.

“I promise this mouth can keep secrets” were my last words.

Well, you wish. I wasn’t dead. the next morning I woke up in this really airy and bright barn. I was handcuffed and gagged, of course. I tried my best wriggling, and squirming but handcuffs are truly difficult to come from. I can tell that from my own choices for my victims, and now, from experience, but nothing is ‘not worth a try’.

I heard some footsteps and stopped squirming.

“I’m gonna have to kill you.”

I protested as much as possible with non verbal actions, but she didn’t seem to get it and drew her sharp blade across my cheek.

I’m thinking you dramatically expected me to wriggle away from my handcuffs, and punch that woman in the face and save my life and this story for good, but I can assure you, none of that happened.

She stood up and picked up a few drops of my blood and walked across the room and added it to her box of laurels.

She then returned to finish her job when I did the thing that seemed most sensible at that point. I kicked her in the face.

She stumbled and cursed out loud and then there was frantic banging on the door. She grit her teeth and quickly unlocked my handcuffs, and dragged me along outside the window.

She carefully tiptoed to her car and clicked my handcuffs along with the car and sped away as fast as she could.

“So long to get you killed!” she sighed. “What were you doing at that time near the river smartie?” she asked me.

I groaned in response to tell her I couldn’t exactly speak, and she sarcastically nodded and just drove on.

After hours of driving, I realised she’d driven us back to the river. She ripped my gag off and whispered rudely into my ear, “Who are you?”

“Adam Jones, of course.”

“Haha. Why did you dump a head into the river?”

“Why did you dump a pair of arms into the river?”

“So you did see it. I should have known there was another one in the town. This is all my fault.” she sighed.

She came closer to my face; closer to the point where I could smell her breath. I’m pretty sure it smelt of Oreos.

“I give you two options, I dump you into that river, handcuffs and all, or you do what you’re told.”

“I have a death wish.”

“PFFT.” she said and slapped my blood stained cheek.

“I’m betting that changed your decision.”

“Nope.” I spat. “I want you to take these handcuffs off before I make any decision.”

“So you can take off without completing the deal, darling?” she smiled.

“The longer you stay here the more unsafe it is for both of us, and you know that.” I reminded her, feeling smug.

Sometimes, I must admit that despite my impeccable sense of bad humour, I am extremely smart at this stuff.

She sighed and gave in and unlocked my handcuffs. She whipped out her gun and waved it threateningly, conveying, ‘You run, I shoot you in the fucking head.’

“Here’s the deal. I do what you tell me but,.”

“But..?”

“..you first do what I tell you.” I said tackling her gun out of her hands and pointing it at her.

“Wow.” she said and smiled, as she accelerated the car straight into a tree.

The Seven Accomplices.

The seven accomplices

Meet the seven accomplices of life, sins you may or may not evade. Each paragraph signifies one deadly sin, that I have not named. Try finding them.

The seven deadly sins are: Greed, Sloth, Envy, Lust, Wrath, Gluttony and Pride.

It rages in you,

I reside in you,

Every part of you.

You discover yourself,

in someone else,

and then, I shall feast on you.

I am what defines man,

desire and fulfilment,

content and tastefulness,

but is it what you deserve?

Are your needs defined

to the proportions of the sea?

I am what you live out of.

Shapes of your external abode,

are what I bloat.

Is the stomach an unimaginable

escape to the mental stress you are put in?

I am what you consume and what consumes you.

Your limbs and mind

have ceased to work,

and you shall forget

what your task is.

I shall reign your reins,

for you are a mere beast asleep.

Oh, you know me too well,

for I am what makes you feel the pain,

for I am the substance that burns

in you, and what makes you yearn,

plead and act. I shall help you gulp

what you feel, and most of all deserve.

I am what follows my closest brother,

who just stands above me.

I am what makes you act

to what injustice shall occur,

or what you yearn,

or what you pleaded of.

I am what follows after happiness,

or the end of a yearning.

I am who shall demean every

one that once surrounded me,

that clapped hands to a falling individual.

I am one who shall blind you of gratefulness.

The deadly sins (in order of the paragraphs are)

  • Lust
  • Greed
  • Glutton
  • Sloth
  • Envy
  • Wrath
  • Pride

Surviving finals week.

Allow me to quote Katy Perry,

I won’t just survive, oh you will see me thrive.

So, it’s finals week, and here I am procrastinating before math exam and writing a blog for y’all. I did my first final pretty well, and here I am, lost of motivation, and writing a blog to see if I can regain it.

There you go, tips from a nerd to survive finals week.

Finals week is pretty tough. Seriously, you got all these crazy people droning on about grades and stuff, but hey, grades don’t matter in the end, but finals sure do, and you know that. So here is a guide to acin’ it:

Time Management.

Manage your time. Seriously, this is more than enough to ace not just your final, but anything in life. I suck big time at time management, and end up staying up overnight. So, just know what you’re going to do, at exactly what time. Block your time for specific tasks, then take a break, at the required time.

time-mangagement.png

Workspace.

Clean your desk out. Make it the ‘aesthetic’ desk you’ve always wanted. A cluttered workspace make you less motivated and unwilling to do anything. Just clean it out, and it will be so much better. Also try changing studying spots, instead of studying in the same place for hours together. I’ve noticed that this helps greatly. Try studying out in the open, try your living room, and make sure you’re comfortable, but not comfy enough to doze off.

clean-your-workspace.png

 Distraction- free environment.

Oh, the number of times I’ve been tempted to listen to music while studying. Remove all possible distractions off your place. This will save your life. Avoid studying on your laptop, but if you have to log out off everything. Keep your phone away.  Tell your annoying brother to get out, and start studying. Hustle that ass of yours.

clean-your-workspace-2.png

Sleep.

You need your sleep and you deserve it. Go to bed as early as possible and avoid an all- nighter. It’s extremely ironic you’re getting this from me, but just let your brain rest. Sometimes, you could go to bed early, and wake up earlier than usual in the morning to study/revise.

yes.png

 

 

Bullet Journal 101

You’re probably wondering what this is. Or you already know about this, and you’re checking out my version of it.

So, I’ll get to it directly. Stating the obvious, the Bullet journal, is a Journal, but better than “a journal”. Typically, a Journal is defined as  “a daily record of news and events of a personal nature or a diary.”, but a bullet journal, is a journal that does more than that. It helps you organise your events, tasks, and appointments, very well with your own personal touch.

Screen Shot 2017-12-23 at 1.15.20 PM
a weekly spread(left) and a monthly log (right)

A bullet journal is something that you can personalise to your will, but there are some ground rules to it, though, it’s your wish to break them, again, ’cause rule breaking is fun, isn’t it?

Typically, a ‘BuJo’ consists of:

  • An Index
  • A Future Log
  • A Monthly Log
  • A Weekly Log
  • A Daily Log.
  • Trackers
  • Quotes

I’ve been Bullet Journaling for about a year. Looking, at the idea, I immediately fell in love with its concept. I’m a typical teenager with mood swings, so I can get super organised, or super disorganised in the blink of an eye. BuJoing has certainly helped me be organised, and seeing other people’s ideas and sharing, everything about it was fun.

You’re probably super confused about all the ‘logs’. Allow me to break it down.

Firstly, you have to pick a notebook. Any notebook would do. Literally, any notebook would do. Some preferences you might want to look at are:

  • At least about 200 pages
  • A Dotted/ squared notebook. (I really wouldn’t recommend a ruled one, but again it’s your notebook, so your say.)
  • Typically, people would use the Leuchtturm1917, or the RhodiaWebNotebook of A5 paper, but seriously, just any notebook that you’re comfortable with would do.
Screen Shot 2017-12-23 at 1.13.53 PM
2018’s Bullet journal.

For 2017’s I used an unruled notebook of about 300 pages. For one thing, do not use a diary. Like, I’ve seen people use it, and see then get frustrated and stop midway, so it’s not a great idea.

Moving on, open your notebook and smell that ish. Aah, the smell of a new book. Now grab a pen and write your name on the first page. and some extra details of your own. For example, I wrote a poem of Noor Unnahar’s that tells me how much potential I contain. Then, you will need to write your ‘Key’. This will be a set of symbols, which you will be using for your journal.

Screen Shot 2017-12-23 at 1.13.35 PM

Now, skip about two pages (this’ll be your index) and gear up for some real art work. Grab some markers and welcome 2018. ‘Hello 2018’ or your ‘Goals’ or some inspiring stuff like ‘The year of Shash’ (get the ‘The Middle’ reference ;)).

 

Screen Shot 2017-12-23 at 1.14.04 PM
2018’s welcoming.;)

After this is done, you do the future log. The future log, is for making a note of your future events and appointments. Sketch out the calendar for the year, and mark  birthdays, and other upcoming events, as they come by.

Screen Shot 2017-12-23 at 1.11.38 PM.png

Now, for the index. Start marking page numbers , at the right bottom corner. Start page one from the future log. and go on. You will need to mark it with your hand or get a book that already has page numbers.

After the future log, get started with your monthly log. your monthly log consists of, a spread of the month, where you can note down events, for the following month.

Screen Shot 2017-12-23 at 1.13.07 PM
monthly log

Next, comes your weekly log. Your weekly log is an overview of the week. Here, you can merge your daily and weekly log, allowing you note down your tasks as well as events, for the day, and also review your week.

Screen Shot 2017-12-23 at 1.15.20 PM
a weekly spread(left) and a monthly log (right)
Screen Shot 2017-12-23 at 1.14.50 PM
a daily log I tried, it went quite well, and helped in better organisation

I only use the merged version of weekly/ daily log, because I generally don’t have a very elaborate day, but if you’re a busy person, you might wanna consider using the daily log to plan better .

Then, come the trackers, Your trackers can be to track literally anything. Habit tracker, Water Consumption tracker, Spend tracker, Books you’ve read, Movies you’ve watched/ wanna watch.  You can draw out these trackers next to your weekly log, or monthly log or track on a daily basis too.

Screen Shot 2017-12-24 at 10.46.31 AM.png
a study tracker I made.

Trackers are a great way to become more organised. You can add inspirational quotes, poems, or even some thoughts and feelings of your own. I sometimes write my own poems in my BuJo, like this one below.

Screen Shot 2017-12-23 at 1.14.21 PM

So, that’s all I got. Remember, this is your journal and feel free to doodle, paint, brush letter or do it the neat scheduled way, just give it your personalised touch. Also, if you did try out the BuJo, you can share how it went with me 🙂

Pro Tip: If you wanna share how your BuJo went, to all, you might wanna consider sharing it on you social media, especially Instagram, where you get to see other people’s works too. You can also find mine!

 

The poet.

 “Our hearts are caged, 

and are banging on cell doors​, 

to be let out free, 

to live fulfillment,

and freedom,

to live of love,

to live of rage,

Of colors,

Of fire,

Of magic.”

 To find out more about the poem scroll on to my story: “The Poet.” http://my.w.tt/UiNb/PEj3K5nlVF

Poetic rants.

Rants are a part of life. There’s nothing you can do about it. There’s actually something extremely intriguing about it. It’s how you do it that matters. Not why you’re doing it. Or even if there are opinions that conflict these.

So I found ways to doing this. And one way that really relieved me is either making poetry or reading. You can also find this on my Instagram.https://www.instagram.com/p/BXz7iuAFf69/

“Broken”

“Broken”- We’re all a little broken,

Broken in our own way,

But the last time I checked,

Broken crayons still color.
We’re all a little alone,

Aloned by people,

But you still have yourself,

To bring some cheer into your way.
We’re all a little hated,

Hated for our real,

But the last person I spoke to,

Told me I am loved.
We’re all a little jealous,

Jealous cause why not me?

But your time will come when you take chances.
We’re all a little joyful,

Joyful cause it’s life,

Live it and experience every emotion.

-Shashvathi S Hariharan

And then, she gave in;

Gave in her strength and stopped holding herself back.

She let those tears roll down her cheeks, those cheeks that had never been wet by tears.

As the water hit her face, she moaned. They collided and hit the floor

Invaluable and precious tears that could’ve shed for something better,

rather than this. – Shashvathi S Hariharan

“Strange”

Her soul was a strange one.

A mixture of the strangest, yet beautiful things.

Strange? What is strange? Strange  is falling in love with the unique things. Unique things that people don’t notice, notice the beauty in them.

She loved the gloom of the rain.

She loved the aftermath of rain- everything about it..

She loved books, the smell, the feel, the way she could escape reality.

She loved the eyes of people, the way each one could convey what it’s been through.

She was special, unique and strange yet beautiful.

She knew that beauty wasn’t on the outside,

It was on the inside, and the inside is what matters.

She was strange, yet beautiful on the inside.- Shashvathi S Hariharan

“Cared”

She just cared so much.

So much, for everything.

It was just part of her,

And that was why she got hurt.

People knew she cared, and they took her for granted.

She would bend down to give a hand and people would tread on her hand.

She knew she’d  have to change, but it’s easier said than done.

And then the day dawned, she’d had enough.

Sh told herself “Enough”.-Shashvathi S Hariharan

“Colors”

Our life is a surge of colors.

We are in ourself, a beautiful rainbow.

Have you seen a rainbow?

It’s beautiful! And, it’s made of a lot of colors.

Colors that depict beauhy of itself.

Sometimes, you’re a bright yellow, to light up someone’s day.

And then, sometimes you’re a pretty pink, just too beautiful to handle.

I’ma red too, too spicy and rude to be human.

But then there’s blue when you feel deep in the dumps.

And the worst feared- black.

I feel black, dark and lonely.

I feel alone.-Shashvathi S Hariharan

Extremes” and another one I didn’t name. Meh.

Have you ever noticed, sometimes in life you’re either gasping for breath either because you’re laughing way too hard or you’re crying way too hard. The extremes always leave you breathless.

*****†***†***********†******

Sometimes I wished life was a lot simpler,

But I have come to understand that,

If life decided to collapse, it would collapse gracefully,

And rebuild itself with utmost strength.

Strength, that will uphold it next time. -Shashvathi S Hariharan

Sometimes life has come to a point, where crying, talking or poetry don’t mean anything more.

She took a deep breath.

It would be the last adventure of her life.

She let her feet slip,

And she soared.

She felt pumped once and for last.- Shashvathi S Hariharan.

***********†***************†

And then silence prevailed.

They got closer and closer. And almost everything had come to order.

She felt complete.-Shashvathi S Hariharan

*******************†*****†**

That’s not all. I’ve written lots of other which I’ve misplaced and will take 84 years to find. So the next blog I’d probably get more.