Strained tunes.

Playing the guitar is fun. It's seldom a hobby for someone who loves the instrument, I'm sure they'd consider it a passion instead. I think it's one of the most beautiful instrument ever. You can create your own song, and give your voice it's own background music.

I think I get way too depressed when I play the guitar sometimes.
I find a strange metaphor associated with it.
The fact that I'm trying to sing, wanting someone to hear me out, in a controlled way, so as to make the song seem nice, feels fake.

I'd much rather play off tune, so long as I like what I've got to say. If that's all what I want to say. Does it have to sound good?

I think it does. I think polishing your skills, voice, communication, everything, it's important. But it feels kind of wrong, and terrible. Of how my broken ways, song, or tune, won't be accepted. I'd still try to play the song properly, that's the only choice I have.

It'd be so much better if I'd accept the way I am, and be proud of what I'm learning, and the good ways in which I'm changing.

Things seem so confusing at times. I honestly can't make sense of whatever it is that is happening. I'd try and play more, but I'd feel so lost. Can't be better unless I'm calm while practising, can I?
Still hope to get better though. But I think it should be only for myself.

Be a better person, sing a better song, so that I personally, can be proud of myself. Yes. I guess I'd be driven forth without much depression if I keep that in mind. I'd enjoy the music more that way.

Words were a cigarette.

Tangled with the green umbrella.

I hear laughter, ill at ease.

Was that me? I wonder in awe.

Grey clothes. A smoke in hand.

Words are smoke, such a charm.

Thoughts trying way too hard.

At ease and calm, but the chaos hidden.

They have found a place to grow.

But no, it seems wrong.

Anger in the ashes.

The smoke's all air now.

Futile and basking in the hit that remains.

Knowing well, that it's not going to last.

Charred lungs and a moment gone.

Maybe it was worth it.

Change, it's a constant.

But my thought's, they're a blunder.

Break somthing, the inner voice chants.

Burn the lighter itself.

Wish it was possible.

Atleast I know that smoking is injurious to health.

Guess it's all for the best.

I throw the cigerette butt onto the ground.

Sparks fly.

Wish I could save it.

I stare at it for a while.

And then, I step on it.

I killed the machine.

Something way too powerful at work here.

So, all my life, I’ve had these tiny theories of mine that I’ve developed. Theories that try too hard to make sense of basic questions that begins with what, how, why, etc. I guess everyone has a few of them, questions and theories we abide by.
And it’s all natural for us to grow onto them, and also, allowing those theories to grow up as well, like a tree, free to move up towards the light, or far beneath the soil, in all possible directions, twirling, unrolling, realising.

The point is, I really feel tired of this, these days. Tired of developing theories. Sometimes, I have a feeling, that there’s just something much more powerful at work here. That despite me formulating my stupid theories, this powerful work, that goes about unseen, works its own charm, revealing a world that’s perfectly balanced, but also, incredibly dark and beautiful.

What’s the point of trying to understand something that I’m much too small to comprehend?
Things keep getting weirder by the second. I might be losing onto my childlike innocence, but I’d struggle to be the kid that I am, deep inside, inquisitive, and curious. Growing up, things seem much more complicated now. And they are just getting more and more complicated. 

I wonder if I should try to make sense of all of this, or just simply, let go, and enjoy everything that ever is. It’s really beautiful. All of this.

Biblical - Biffy Clyro
Skylight - Biffy Clyro
Stars And Shites - Biffy Clyro
Many Off Horror - Biffy Clyro
No I’m Not Down - Biffy Clyro

Abstract plans.

I really don't know why I'm not wanting to have a fixed story anymore. Thing's are getting all abstract around me. And I don't mind it. Maybe I'm already looking forward to the December holidays. The fact that I'm writing again though, it's reaffirming. So what if it's not in a hand held journal.

There are many things to say, sing, listen to, to try and understand, to be happy about, to be thankful about, to be stressed about, to be worried about, to not be worried about, there's just too much to exist. So letting it all just be seems like an easy option. I wonder if this easy way out is the right thing to do though. What if I, just push myself slightly? Forward to the things that I could do or achieve, or think that might work? Little concepts that keep popping up in my mind. Maybe I'd be able to help others with it all? And idea is good, an idea could be great, but it's of absolutely no use if it is born, and it dies, having accomplished absolutely nothing. Ideas do take work.

Perhaps that's why I wait for December. Because I'd be able to make things again. Build things again. Including myself! Oh. Just realised that the last December had been pretty sweet as well. Quite a turning point in my life. And it did take a certain amount of handwork, and a lot of brainstorming. I like the way I talk logically sometimes. It almost frightens me. Engineering ain't too bad. Fuck the ones who're trying to scare you away. Engineering is a need.

There's a picture in my head. I want the best for it, and I shall work to make it happen. Sometimes, all you have to do, is just, give yourself a push, and hope for the best. You're good enough. Chances are that you'll be rewarded with something you were expecting, but maybe, something better as well. I can hope for myself, at least.

Tests torment me. Exams are condescending. But I'll have to work hard. And around these days of trouble, there would be happy days. Days I look forward to. And come December, I'll be free to rethink over my wishes and dreams. Like how a little part of me would still want to excel at playing the guitar. Just a little bit please. Or how I'd like to play the drums. Or how I'd love to begin swimming again. Comic con's almost here too.

More movies. TV shows. Gigs.
And countless opportunities to just, escape.


Hey You - Pink Floyd
Is There Anybody Out There - Pink Floyd
Comfortably Numb - Pink Floyd
Stairway to Heaven - Led Zeppelin 

Wasting My Young Years.

Writing has always been a passion.
I lack the good words, the big words.
I am what I write. Simple words, not too hard to comprehend.
I love life. And I love how perfectly imperfect things are.
Does it make me weak? I wonder. For finding all the broken pieces just, perfect. Just the way they are.
I think we're all like this.

I really enjoying crying. I think, there's something extremely beautiful when one allows the tears to just, run free, with no barriers. I'm very optimistic, don't get me wrong. Pessimism is not my thing. But being sad, that makes me happy sometimes. Makes me appreciate life more. I can never truly be sad. I guess, life's too beautiful to be wasted with regrets.

Wish I could sing on highest peak of the world. I think I can do that. I'd like that.
Wish I could build my own mini rocket and fly up in space. Then attempt a free fall up against gravity.
Wish I could start from the scratch.
Wish life would start from the scratch so that I'd treat it differently.
Wish I could stitch all that was torn. And repair.
Wish I could be a little bit stronger for others. Empathy is useless.

But why would I care? I'm in love with imperfection, I suppose.


Secret - Maroon 5.
Hey Now - London Grammar.
Wasting My Young Years - London Grammar.

We could be heroes, just for one day.

And that day would be enough!

Warning: This post is not going to make much sense.

So. If you're reading this, which I doubt, because no one probably reads this shit up, well, but except you, since you ARE reading this, you better stop reading this, because it's not going to make much sense.

Scream!

A little lemon fell of the kitchen counter onto the ground, rolling, before softly stopping near my dogs paw. 

LO!

And behold. Lets just follow this never ending river. She isn't crazy. I like watching a piece of chocolate melt. It gets tastier by the second. Come on Eileen!

Fellows and Romans and people of good folklore, tell me a secret, won't you?

Apple pies must be delicious. Would you like one? "And let there be light," God said. Psalm 12:34, whatever *insert name* Repeat after me: "Shall not ever grieve over the lost puppy".

My diary is far away, this shit've would gone there, I believe. Typing is fun though.

STOP.

Breath.

And this idiot of a person just had to dive into the well of empty traffic and electricity bills.

Cows are to be disliked for the go MOOO which is mostly irritating. Don't even try to be nice. Hypocrites. 

*****

A little while later

*****

NOPE

 Still 

a     twat. Hypocrisy!

Not really insane but on cloud nine. Let's take a moment and be glad that we are smart enough to comprehend what goes around in this town. You just lied. "I didn't, I kept quiet."

"That's gonna cost ya, sweety."

"If you think I'm being stupid, well I'm still me", cried the little red riding hood before turning into a wolf and eating up her own grandma. Yeah, things are getting stranger by the second.

Give yourself a break, mate! You sure do need one. Lollipops were always bad for your teeth.

My tongue is in love with my left elbow. Such a sad love story. Commas will guide you home.

There was once a crooked man, with a crooked little organ, in a crooked little video, and he was soon forgotten. 

Man, I wish she was a cat. But I would never do such a thing to her, she's such a great girl. I think she must really like me, hens would love laying easter eggs. I'm such a weird potato. 

A little ash, smokey, and a minty taste later, she allowed herself to cough. Well shit. Where's that lighter? A pastry would've helped but the owl was hooting too loudly. Was he looking for his mate? Poor sod.

Bubble baths were sad, because people didn't respect him anymore. "That's the way the market works", shrugs bubble bath, "It's always what they really want. Priorities."

I'll be damned if you figured me out. Don't bother. I'm just like you. I can see you. Just as you see me. A layer, within a layer, within another one, that's the one on the top. We're the same. Still reading?

Well, great. Thanks.


Heroes - David Bowie.

The biggest lie ever.

This thought occurred to me recently. A simple thought. Not sure what inspired me to think in this direction.

Perhaps it was a series of unfortunate events.

People don't trust people. Not always. Most of us would like to believe that we are on our own in this big dark world. But that's far from the truth. Or at least, I hope everyone start's to believe that.

I believe everyone's like a deep well of thoughtfulness, brimming with love to give, memories to share. It's a beautiful world, and everyone's just so very insecure about who accepts them the way they are.

It's so very easy to judge sometimes, isn't it? One should try not to make quick judgements about someone's personality and create a deep rooted opinion, before even speaking to them. And one shouldn't judge them once they've opened up either. Try and understand, always.

The biggest lie ever, is one that we would love to believe. Because we see it happening around us. All the time. We doubt ourselves, look up to the only people we believe are probably correct about such things. Our parents, or someone close. Chances are, that they'll tell us this, this statement, that we take too seriously.

It's, "Don't trust anybody. You're on your own."

This is wrong. Trusting is a very important factor for growth. A leap of faith, knowing your friends would be there to catch you. The larger the group with understanding people, the better. Two is better than one. Four, even more.

It's true that someone might be untrustworthy, especially given the fact that lying is probably their favourite hobby. But what if we just try and understand? Perhaps the person wants to be accepted. Life must be difficult for them, oh yes.

There are different kinds of people. In all possible shapes, sizes, colour, emotions, personality, everything, everywhere, wherever. Sometimes, they are extremely raw, the kind I like. They're fresh, new, vulnerable, fearless of baring their emotions, and most of all, quite intelligent. Sometimes, they're completely opposite. They tend to lack sheer creativity. They get repetitive, tired, probably happy in their innocence. But all in all, we're humans, the very same. Homo-sapiens that walk this planet in search of answers and whatever that is the ultimate.

It's easy getting hurt if we trust the wrong people, and at that point of time, we must remain vary of the truth. Be objective. Stop at our steps and retreat. But what if it's the right person? You could grow with this person, into something you'd probably never dream of being able to do all alone. More the number of people who trust another, more the chances that we'd end up trusting someone trustworthy.

We aren't on our own. We travel alone. That's all. But befriending strangers for a couple of minutes, finding a companion that would last you a couple of weeks into the journey, or perhaps your lifetime, it's all part of the long road.

She moves like the wind, and kisses the sun.

She moves like the wind, and kisses the sun.

Falls like a dry leaf, and laughs on the run.

She could cry like a river, and swim in its sea.

She could march across the desert sand; she could, hold the key.

Like the finger stretched, far upfront, to know where the wind blows,

Perhaps she’d try the other direction, towards the mountains where it snows.

And once there, by a little lake, she’d rest for a while.

She’d lay her camp, walk around, but all within a mile.

And under the stars, she’d lay awake, as the quiet winter blooms,

The cold would probably sting her, but she’d sleep bereft of gloom.

Come the morning, she’d stretch, ready for the day. 

She'd pack her things, leave a few, she did enjoy the stay.

Back home, to where it all started, she'd return soon.

A few old stars would be hard to find, but she would still spot the moon.

The next summer would be gone, those would be some raw sunny times.
Come autumn, she's still walking, and her story still rhymes.

Wasting away in Outer Space.

The last 15 hours have been extremely trippy. I’ve felt different. 

Without the usage of any sort of substance! Heh.

Imagine.

 Glowing neon colours dripping down on a blank,  black  surface.

A quiet child ,wearing fancy clothes, staring off into the horizon, somewhere in his mind, knowing what life is all about. 

A random     pink   ☁     cloud, moving across the  pale blue skies  all alone, but happy.

The first bite into a fluffy white marshmallow.

Real comfy mommy hugs.

A light  golden  leaf afloat upon the free autumn winds. 

A room lined with rubik's cubes across its walls, that change their orientations on their own. 

 Fairy lights all wound up around your favourite stack of books.

And a huge  magnetised bed  rotating above the ground, in a  magnetised room , in a slow controlled motion.

I’ve felt lucky, and was so too. Even though I didn’t care. I just was, yo. 

And as I retrospect, my mind is forced to be bewildered at all that has happened. Even though, it was all so, normal. And quiet. 

I’ve been glued to this couch all day long. Sleeping. Counting seconds as I edge closer to the end of the summer vacations. 

… Which happen after a month and a half.

I’m wasting away. And planning, at the same time. Planning for the next few days. And still. Dreaming, imagining. Not really being at the moment, but enjoying it. 

I’ve set my imagination on a crazy spree. Where it is free to make anything a reality. And the thoughts, melt into my head, and away from it, with such ease and eerie beauty, that I can’t help but think, that I’ve unlocked myself into a new realm of, mega trippy-ness. 

If these were the 80’s, I’d surely be living like a hippy. A techno, colourful one, at that.

And all of these thoughts would’ve been trapped in a corner in my head unless I’d write about it. Gotta thank Lana Del Rey for her new album. Ooh baby, ooh baby, I'm in love. And also, this couch. The fan. Gosh it would’ve been hot otherwise. 

…

Just read whatever I wrote, and there’s just one thought in my head. 

I am such a lazy fuck.

So sure everyone feels this way. Too lazy. But with such workable dreams.

If I don’t really get off this couch any soon, I’d be hired someday to full-fill someone else’s dreams, instead of working to make my own dreams a reality. 

Move ya lazy arse ya lazy bitttch.

I really, really feel like coding.

But first, should sharpen my rubik's cube solving skills.

Almost. After a while. Please.

*proceeds to make another cup of a happy cold coffee.*

Gotta love the summer holidays. ☼

….

….

Happy birthday, Audrey!

~

~

 ~

~

~

~

~

       

~

                     

                    

                    

~

~

The treasure box.

My little box, my home, with my two favourite gems.

~

                                                                                

                                 

~

I miss these ladies. Bunny left Mumbai last year, for her studies, while Ridzi and I still stay close by. It's never the same for us when we're not together though, - the three of us, at the same time.

Of the countless memories I've shared with these two beautiful, absolutely brilliant women, I remember, only but a few. We were always in our skins, when we were together. Ourselves. With not a tinge of judgement, or anyone to hold the other back.

I still remember how once I'd observed that, whenever the three of us are together, two'd always be in a jolly mood, while the third would be serious. This happened, almost, always!

And then the other two would pool in for help. In a very, indecent impolite, obnoxious, funny, but rude manner. But they'd help! Yes.

~

"You need help, sweet thing?"

~

We were like free birds. High on happy. Brave. And funny.
Oh yes, lot's of funnies.

~

 

Gub bub so much lub.

~

I loved their wardrobes more than I loved mine.
We each knew where the other would keep their secret happy goodies in their rooms.
We knew who was the least, and the most organised, of us all. Crazy. Both of them. And also, the one who was always way too diplomatic to do her any good.

"I don't know what to wear."

"I'm Mamy. She's Poko. You should be Pants."

As far as the number of jokes we've shared is concerned, I've lost count.
We'd never realise how time would fly by when we were together. :)
*Insert random chain snort-laughter.*

"There's a limit to a limit, which also has a limit, but the limit to use the word limit, also has a limit."

The crazy dance routines, the reckless phases, times where we've kicked ass, twirling, walking like a mo-fo badass 'chicki', LoLing out loud, the fail manicure sessions, successful manicure sessions, deep philosophical discussions, utter fail arguments, bitching sessions, dreaming sessions, les-bee friends kinda sessions ("KISS ME, OOH KISS ME." ~ "GET OFF ME, CREEP."),  crying sessions, fighting sessions, oh dear lord.

The teens were what they were, because of them.

~

/* WARNING: Code ahead. */                                          

                                                               
/* Declaring variables. */                                         

int var;                                                           

person temp, x, y, z;                                              

                                                                
/* Initialising variables. */                                      

var = 1;                                                           

x = Ridzi;                                                         

y = Bunny;                                                         

z = Sugandha;                                                      

temp = Temporary;                                                  

                                                                   

                                                                
/* Running while loop, until the end of time. */                   

while(var>0)                                                       

{                                                                  

Person x - "Coming for a walk today?"                              

Person y - "No yaar. I'm too lazy to move. Why don't you guys come over?"                                                             

Person z - "Die alone, bitch."                                     

                                                                   

                                                                   

/* Switching variable roles. */                                    

temp=x;                                                            

x=y;                                                               

y=z;                                                               

z=temp;                                                            

}     

~

We were crazy. Absolutely mad. Insane!
And I miss us, so much!

~

                             

~

The three of us were very unique. Completely different in our own ways. The way we gelled though, was common. There wasn't a care, or a need, to justify us. Of who we were. We just, were. There, and then, right at that moment.

It's only now, as I retrospect, that I realise how amazing we'd been. I've never really spoken about how much I adore them, to anyone. For they had always been the first ones I'd share a story to. They were always, my number one. :)

~

  

  

        

Crazy.yzarC                                                                         

~

Time's a bitch, and things have changed. But I know, deep down, that I'm never, never, NUH HUH, letting go of these wonderful ladies.

~

~

Miss Bunny, Miss Ridzi, I love you two, to bits!
To every brick of an atom that vibrates, to every evolving strand of your DNA chromosome.
My lovelies, you're gonna make me proud.

~

This one's for us. :)






















~

*Insert the buh-bye bro-hug.*

~

Beach ke beach main.

Oh 'ello, Mr. Beach!

We meet again.

The sand seems extra golden this evening. 

The waters, extra blue.

The wind is all sublime, and the skies, just so clear and happy.

Clear, and happy, like the mind-space, before it begins to jot down the thoughts onto itself, 

forming an intricate, complicated detail of layer upon layer, of organised and disorganised 

thoughts. 

Random or 

otherwise.

Dear Mr. Beach!

It's so crowded, out here. 

But the claustrophobia is least of my concerns. 

The horizon, which stretches up until infinity and beyond, 

helps.

People seem happy. 

And I simply adore that couple playing with their young child, attempting to make him laugh. Or that man, who quietly stares at the people around him, like me. Or the little child who runs along with a stray dog. Playing. 

Laughing. 

Look at those two beautiful women jogging near the waves. 

They seem to be sharing a gossip that amuses them both. 

I like people, 

sometimes.

I'm hungry. Mr. Beach. 

All this walking has made me tired. 

I think I deserve something, tasty. Something spicy, sour. 

Yum.

PANI PURI!

Mr. Beach, I am so grateful. 

I think I'd like to stay here forever.

At least. 

In my city. 

For I'd never run out of pain puri.

It's getting dark, now. 

I think I should head back home.

Nevertheless, Mr. Beach, 

I think I'll be visiting you more often.

For the day dreamers.

Stars.
Listen.
Boxes.

Come summer time, the days will be longer.
I'm glad, I guess, it'll give me more time to spend day dreaming.
I'm not sure if it's a wrong habit, but yes, it certainly isn't a crime.

I love day dreaming.

Penguins.
Love.
Iktara.

I waste time, day dreaming. I wonder if that's okay. Productivity takes the back seat. But I'm tempted. Always tempted. To think of certain things, time and again. Again. And all over. Repeat.

Bags.
Beards.
Bow ties.

I've started day dreaming a lot lately. And I'm sure it's doing me no good. But I can't resist. And I won't feel too bad about it. My false dreams, some real, are what make me anyway.

Feathers.
Dream catchers.
QuizUp.

And then, during the night time. I'm wide awake as an owl. And yet, my mind wanders off into an infinite abyss of completely random things.

There is no such thing as random.
It's all, structured, chaos.

I'm day dreaming right now.

I am not day dreaming right now.
No, not really.

Wait.
WHAT?

How to make your very own TARDIS cosplay dress!

Comic conventions are amazing, but they're better when you're cosplaying!

I dressed up as the TARDIS, as seen in Doctor Who in this last Mumbai CC. I've been planning to write a post on a DIY TARDIS dress ever since, and I've finally managed to do it.

Here are some ways by which you can make your very own TARDIS costume! :) 

Materials needed:

1. A TARDIS blue dress/ blue fabric.

2. Black fabric.

3. White fabric.

4. Long Blue/black satin ribbon.

5. Fabric/handicraft glue! (Uber-important.)

6. Heat transfer paper.

7. One sided-sticky book labels.

8. Clothes iron.

9. Black paint. (Tempera paints are preferred!)

10. Other essentials like, cello-tape, threads, needles, sharpies, scissors.

11. Accessories, like shoes, headbands, a TARDIS key, etc.

Step 1: Figure your design out.

This might include sketching countless designs on a notebook. There's a lot of TARDIS inspiration online. So get your creative hat on and scribble away. Make sure your designs incorporate your body shape, and material of the fabric that you will be using.

If you are happy with your designs, you can go ahead and stitch the fabric up into a dress. I personally spent a lot of time designing, but ended up purchasing a perfect TARDIS blue gown instead. It was almost like the dress I had imagined myself to be in, so yes. That saved me a lot of extra time and trouble.

Step 2: The black boxes.

After ironing your dress, spread it out on your workspace. The lower portion of the dress needs the black boxes, that we will have to paint in. For this, create a stencil using cello-tapes. This is how I stuck it onto the dress. Two strips of tapes, centring a perfect little box, pasted about 1-2.5 centimetres apart.

 

Make sure you measure the length of the dress, before fixing up the cello-tapes. Perfect squares are easy to make, but you can try and make the boxes slightly asymmetrical, shorter in length on the top, and a tad bit longer on the lower ends. This will give your dress a better perspective.

The next job is easy to do! Just paint in the space between the strip of tapes with your black tempera. I chose tempera paints because they are mostly washable. (You might want to test paint and wash it off before you paint all the boxes up though.) Wait for the paint to dry, 10 minutes are enough, really. Peel off the tapes and stand in awe of the little boxy glory that you've just painted yourself.

Step 3: Windows.

Take the white fabric and cut them according to the shape of your dress.  If yours is a square dress, you can go for squares as windows. Mine was a halter neck, so I needed to cut them out in a trapezium. Place the fabrics onto your dress and make sure they fit! (Yes, yes, it should keep the same shape once you've worn it too.)

Sew in at the edges! White thread's good. I didn't use a sewing machine for this because I wasn't really planning to stitch the windows on the dress forever. Handmade stitches are easier, if not more cleaner, to remove.

Next, cut up the blue or black ribbons into tinier strips, and place it along the edges, and on the white fabric. If you're happy with what you see, simply glue the pieces on. Wait for a long while as they dry out, and just like that, you'll be done with the windows.

If tampering with the blue fabric isn't a great deal, you can always machine sew the white fabric, and also the blue ribbons right in. Thin black, blue strips of fabric could be use as a replacement for the ribbons, but ribbons have an extra gloss on them, so they do look a bit more shiny.

Step 4: Transfer paper to the rescue. (Pull to open!)

So I saved the image needed to be printed on the transfer paper from here -

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Tardis-44709735

And if you want to be the eleventh Doctor's TARDIS -

http://www.deviantart.com/art/St-John-Ambulance-Vector-Logo-208391708 

(I heart DeviantArt.)

Flip these images using photoshop or any other software. Before printing this flipped image, make sure that its shape, size is perfect for it to fit in the upper black box that you've already painted. You might need to edit the image a little.

Print the image out using a transfer paper. You can get a transfer paper from most stationary shops!

Place it on a white fabric, printed side down, press along upper edge of the transfer paper using an iron. Keep this up for some 5 minutes, or more. When the paper it warm enough, allow it to cool.

Peel off the transfer paper, and lo and behold! Your image will be on the white fabric! Just the way it is supposed to be. 

Cut the fabric out in the shape of your little black box. Sew it on by the edges. Fix some more blue/black ribbon around its edge, and you'll be done!

Step 5: The Police Public Call Box.

Take the black fabric and cut it out in a long rectangle. This can either be stuck onto your dress, or worn around the neck, or over one shoulder (Like I did). I used velcro at the ends of the rectangle so that it's easily to wear it around, or remove.

Take the labels and cut out the letters of 'Police Public Call Box'. This might be tricky for the smaller letters. The letters in 'Public Call' were really tiny, so I used a black felt tip pen to colour in the spaces/gaps inside them. Stick on the letters after finalising their proper positions on the black fabric.

Step 6: Accessorise!

I didn't have enough time left until the Comic Convention, so I bought myself a nice blue headband. #GoodEnough? You can also attach a real blinking light overhead, that uses batteries. You can get them in many stationary or gift shops.

Hats made by chart papers can also be used. You could even try a customised top hat!

Couple the outfit with some nice black shoes. Attach a (TARDIS!) key like a pendent, and wear it as a necklace. Works perfectly. 

Step 7: Finally, to top the look, freshen up, put on some makeup, sprinkle some golden bronzer all over yourself (how about some golden nail paint?) and VOILA!

You're now a Time And Relative Dimension In Space! :D

~*~