I feel safe. So safe; maybe in the corner of my mind – I just somehow associated openness with vulgarity. If I’m allowed to make the analogy, I feel like a flower. So soft, colorful, chaste. More like a bud. I like the secrecy. I want to embrace the world, yet see it fly away, while I’m left in peace – just me. Freedom.
I want freedom. Its all in the mind, agreed. I don’t feel like a slave to the system anymore (maybe that’s because I’m not doing anything according to the system – acads, time management, cordialities, people. Zilch) and the wheels are actually turning a lil slowly. But I can sing. I can sing down the house ;-) I can sing to a stranger, and revel in his appreciation.
I can giggle – and not feel stupidly girly about it. I can talk about ‘boys’ and then laugh with easy abandon. And finally, I can cry again. I’d held back for a while, god knows what I was trying to achieve! I can go through the cleansing, thankyouverymuch!
And when I sing, I’m sure everyone’ll listen. I have a power chord in my throat.
In fact, in the phase when I wanted the boy back, I was planning to sing and unleash the latent passion in him, get him to say, “I’ll reconsider”.
Because once, I’d sung ‘kiss me’ by sixpence none the richer, and then heard him say the sweetest nothings. We never realize them when we hear them, but they are gosh darned ridiculous!!
I can even be brilliant. A friend of mine has christened me the Greek Goddess of Wisdom, Métis. While that’s an incredible exaggeration, by a long shot, it’s cool, yeah.
I don’t feel vulnerable, but I feel charming. I think it an excellent phase. I know I won’t be stupid and jump into any lecher’s arms, but I know I can handle myself perfectly well around any Casanova without feeling tongue-tied.
~o~o~o~o~o~o~
Ooh! And it’s the end of the year. When in school, this was an absolute fun time. Starting early November, we’d have endless practices for Annual day; I was always in the choir and usually in some other dance item or something. Good fun. And then, the Christmas Party! In school, we’d have this one day, when we’d all just dress our best, (back in fifth, I was trying to catch the eye of this guy, Pratik. Yes, infant perv, I know. And turns out, through 9th and 10th he liked me!! Teehee) wear party hats, get all our dance cassettes in the hope of dancing and prancing around, and Shweta would get this awesome fudge, which we’d all try to get the biggest share of. It was so yummy!
Then Dec 18th was Rekha’s birthday party, and practically everyone was invited. Another frosted cake and dance fest. We’d have our Annual Day around this time, even the District Carol Singing competition, which we always, without exception took the trophy for.
Real good fun.
The end of the year. I don’t seek anything symbolic. But things seem to wrap themselves up for me. For instance, February through December has seen the most important person for this sixteen year old heart come and go. I call it a summer fling now.
I have grown tremendously. Unfortunately, same cannot be said bout my physical status. I am, and will remain vertically challenged.
I digress. I have really grown. I lowered my shields, widened my circle of friends, got to know of a lot of people all around India. Observed a lot. I don’t want a new beginning this time. I don’t want to ‘forget the past’ and ‘start all over again’. I want all this, and what’s to come, to define me. If I made mistakes, then yes, I am stupid. If I didn’t; good for me. Of course, also note, dame luck may or may not have been smiling all through. I want to see, what’s to come, like a wizened, passive, experienced and silently happy person. I feel older. I feel experienced.
I don’t want to preach, just observe, and maybe smirk a little, giggle again, like I’m being tickled pink.
If it was aspired of me, to give myself up to one person, to feel extremes of happiness and the same steep valleys of sorrow, if I wanted it all in huge doses, if I wanted ‘the teenage feeling’, if I wanted ‘all or nothing’, then oh powers that be, now’s not the time.
I will take it bit by bit, in small measure, and look at the world, opening my window just a wee bit every time. I obviously have a lot more to see, feel and experience. And I have the world to travel! And it’s good to know I have the time. There’s time, there’s the world, and me.
Good to know. And the rest of you can kiss my ass! (dunno where this sudden surge of animosity came from)
Disclaimer: if anybody chooses to associate this with holiday cheer and goodwill to all and the rest of the b.s. that they say the spirit of Christmas and tidings of the new year is about, then I have this to say to them: “bah! Humbug!”
Have a crappy new year!
Monday, December 26, 2005
Saturday, December 24, 2005
shine on you crazy diamond!!
Why must I know what I believe?
Why put it all out for the world to see?
Why is what I believe so integral to me?
Can’t I leave all of this, and presume I am free?
Because, as I have come to realize it;
I am nothing if not for my beliefs.
The crux of my existence, is the truth that I seek
The bolster for my breath, is the tale that I weave.
My entire being is a mélange of my words, and actions.
My beliefs, if not govern, at least oversee these.
I am a virtuoso, a scientist, and cool
I am a doppelganger of the fuckhead, the shrew.
And when I do, and speak and am as all this
The time is right, and so the words will be.
But when its not, the despair wins
Overthrown by confusion; frayed hair beckons
And so it goes, that believe I must not;
For mistakes are privileged by most of us.
But then, what do I become? A mist, a hollow
A thing that has no voice, and thus no soul
Maybe, believe I must – and see what comes of it.
Isn’t that what everyone does? Oh! Life is such a bitch!
Why put it all out for the world to see?
Why is what I believe so integral to me?
Can’t I leave all of this, and presume I am free?
Because, as I have come to realize it;
I am nothing if not for my beliefs.
The crux of my existence, is the truth that I seek
The bolster for my breath, is the tale that I weave.
My entire being is a mélange of my words, and actions.
My beliefs, if not govern, at least oversee these.
I am a virtuoso, a scientist, and cool
I am a doppelganger of the fuckhead, the shrew.
And when I do, and speak and am as all this
The time is right, and so the words will be.
But when its not, the despair wins
Overthrown by confusion; frayed hair beckons
And so it goes, that believe I must not;
For mistakes are privileged by most of us.
But then, what do I become? A mist, a hollow
A thing that has no voice, and thus no soul
Maybe, believe I must – and see what comes of it.
Isn’t that what everyone does? Oh! Life is such a bitch!
Monday, December 19, 2005
a puff of smoke...
I know i'll be addicted to ciggies.
I can picture myself lighting up every, i don't know, very periodic intervals.
What is it with smoking anyway? In my dream-pix I haven't seen it as anything more than a style statement. I like to picture myself shaking a long lock of black hair, when i'm trying to convince someone of my point of view - while driving down this hilly road, in this really awesome car (it don't have a name yet, so advertisements do your trick!) and holding a cigarette between two fingers.
Or, squatted in a meditating position, pouring out my zen wisdom to some poor soul that's all ears, camouflaged behind my fashionable ringlets of smoke, as I smile, speak and puff away.
I was, as can be seen from the title of an old post, intrigued by the post-coital ciggy. For the uninitiated, its your nicotine dosage after the fornication. Sources tell me that's one of the best, even better than the one immediately after coffee. Lemme picture this one, naked sweaty body (my tummy's flat in the day-dream *sigh*) arms outstretched, hair spread on pillow, body, other body, one sticky kiss shared- and then out comes the lighter, and the sexy ciggy. Ooh! I think the tongue feels better then... puritans, this is your warning sign, out you go!
Its a wonder I haven't jumped up and tried one as yet, enamored as I am by the idea. I kinda want it to be special. I wanna try it one cold night, when I'm alone, out in a nice cozy place, when my hair is bra-length (grow bitch grow) and I'm preferably in a foreign country, I ask for the tobacco in this foreign language, and out comes the lighter. Just the tip of the cigarette, the candle and its reflection in my eyes lighting up my thought path...
I was a passive smoker maybe when I was 3 or 4. I've always been especially close to my roly-poly grampa, maternal. And he used to smoke. I would sit on his lap, there was this huge window which he placed his easy chair next to, and the two of us would stare into the distance - him exhaling, me inhaling. I loved the smell of smoke (that, and of petroleum) and made the mistake of telling people about it. I wasn't allowed to sit on gramp's lap since.
When my sis and her friends would smoke in their gathering, I used to chide her, ask her to stop, like this middle-aged aunt. I donno why, I always knew i was more sensible, so much so, that I must've begun to consider it my duty to 'bring her to the right path'.
But lookatme now!
Frasier: Oh now, Bebe, tell me. What is so wonderful about smoking?
Bebe: Everything. I like the way a fresh firm pack feels in my hand. I like peeling away that little piece of cellophane and seeing it twinkle in the light. I like coaxing that first sweet cylinder out of its hiding place and bringing it slowly up to my lips. Striking a match, watching it burst into a perfect little flame and knowing that soon that flame will be inside me.
I love the first puff, pulling it into my lungs. Little fingers of smoking filling me, caressing me, feeling that warmth penetrate deeper and deeper, until I think I'm going to burst! Then - whoosh! - watching it flow out of me in a lovely, sinuous cloud, no two ever quite the same.
- from Episode 3.21, Frasier, "Where There's Smoke, There's Fired"
**************************
"I like to think of fire held in a man's hand. Fire, a dangerous force, tamed at his fingertips. I often wonder about the hours when a man sits alone, watching the smoke of a cigarette, thinking. I wonder what great things have come from such hours. When a man thinks, there is a spot of fire alive in his mind--and it is proper that he should have the burning point of a cigarette as his one expression."
- an excerpt from Atlas Shrugged
**************************
I can picture myself lighting up every, i don't know, very periodic intervals.
What is it with smoking anyway? In my dream-pix I haven't seen it as anything more than a style statement. I like to picture myself shaking a long lock of black hair, when i'm trying to convince someone of my point of view - while driving down this hilly road, in this really awesome car (it don't have a name yet, so advertisements do your trick!) and holding a cigarette between two fingers.
Or, squatted in a meditating position, pouring out my zen wisdom to some poor soul that's all ears, camouflaged behind my fashionable ringlets of smoke, as I smile, speak and puff away.
I was, as can be seen from the title of an old post, intrigued by the post-coital ciggy. For the uninitiated, its your nicotine dosage after the fornication. Sources tell me that's one of the best, even better than the one immediately after coffee. Lemme picture this one, naked sweaty body (my tummy's flat in the day-dream *sigh*) arms outstretched, hair spread on pillow, body, other body, one sticky kiss shared- and then out comes the lighter, and the sexy ciggy. Ooh! I think the tongue feels better then... puritans, this is your warning sign, out you go!
Its a wonder I haven't jumped up and tried one as yet, enamored as I am by the idea. I kinda want it to be special. I wanna try it one cold night, when I'm alone, out in a nice cozy place, when my hair is bra-length (grow bitch grow) and I'm preferably in a foreign country, I ask for the tobacco in this foreign language, and out comes the lighter. Just the tip of the cigarette, the candle and its reflection in my eyes lighting up my thought path...
I was a passive smoker maybe when I was 3 or 4. I've always been especially close to my roly-poly grampa, maternal. And he used to smoke. I would sit on his lap, there was this huge window which he placed his easy chair next to, and the two of us would stare into the distance - him exhaling, me inhaling. I loved the smell of smoke (that, and of petroleum) and made the mistake of telling people about it. I wasn't allowed to sit on gramp's lap since.
When my sis and her friends would smoke in their gathering, I used to chide her, ask her to stop, like this middle-aged aunt. I donno why, I always knew i was more sensible, so much so, that I must've begun to consider it my duty to 'bring her to the right path'.
But lookatme now!
Frasier: Oh now, Bebe, tell me. What is so wonderful about smoking?
Bebe: Everything. I like the way a fresh firm pack feels in my hand. I like peeling away that little piece of cellophane and seeing it twinkle in the light. I like coaxing that first sweet cylinder out of its hiding place and bringing it slowly up to my lips. Striking a match, watching it burst into a perfect little flame and knowing that soon that flame will be inside me.
I love the first puff, pulling it into my lungs. Little fingers of smoking filling me, caressing me, feeling that warmth penetrate deeper and deeper, until I think I'm going to burst! Then - whoosh! - watching it flow out of me in a lovely, sinuous cloud, no two ever quite the same.
- from Episode 3.21, Frasier, "Where There's Smoke, There's Fired"
**************************
"I like to think of fire held in a man's hand. Fire, a dangerous force, tamed at his fingertips. I often wonder about the hours when a man sits alone, watching the smoke of a cigarette, thinking. I wonder what great things have come from such hours. When a man thinks, there is a spot of fire alive in his mind--and it is proper that he should have the burning point of a cigarette as his one expression."
- an excerpt from Atlas Shrugged
**************************
Monday, December 12, 2005
Sunday, December 11, 2005
La-di-dum, ho-hum, ummm....
So, i've been meaning to blog. Have lots to tell myself, yet don't make the time.
I just ate a milk choco, (don't like those much, with the exception of milk treat) and i'm blogging in sheer want of something better to do. Not that i don't have anything better to do, i can study. But no, the princess will study feverishly only one week before her exams.
aaaaaaaaanyway, gawd, normal life can be boring. Reminds me, gotta watch a life less ordinary
I'm finally over the boy. Turns out i can be wrong. Why didn't i figure it out when he broke up with that other girl only after he started going out wimme?
I mean, we were all in different cities, so no chance of seeing things and all.
but eww!!!
And I even kinda found out, that it wasn't exactly him i was still hankering for, just the sadness that i'd made a wrong decision, and couldn't believe it at first. and desperately wanted to right all wrongs.
So, i'm finally over the boy. And in commemoration,
LINES FOR THE BOY, THE LOVER, AND THE BASTARD.
If it is asked of me,
whereof my time was spent,
and so where i gave most.
I'll have nothing to say,
but "a day that is past;
a joy nearly forgotten,
and a love that fadeth away"
~Moi
Well, its not really a man-bashing poem. But for man bashing, look up Alanis Morissette's You Oughta Know 've been listening to a lot of that. Feels good to be single.
Mmmm...
(btw, i recently discovered the joy of hyperlinks, so am celebrating)
A lil more serious now. I'm not gonna get into a relationship for a looooooooong time. I'll be more on my guard (subconsciously, its no punishment) and much more acidic. Lotsa people flirting now actually, i flirt back. Its such good fun! and those silly guys are sooo sweet!
I gotta take care o' my hair. Dandruff's recurred.
D's dead. or that's what i suspect. Hasn't turned up for college, tuts, not even a phone call.
Wow!
I just ate a milk choco, (don't like those much, with the exception of milk treat) and i'm blogging in sheer want of something better to do. Not that i don't have anything better to do, i can study. But no, the princess will study feverishly only one week before her exams.
aaaaaaaaanyway, gawd, normal life can be boring. Reminds me, gotta watch a life less ordinary
I'm finally over the boy. Turns out i can be wrong. Why didn't i figure it out when he broke up with that other girl only after he started going out wimme?
I mean, we were all in different cities, so no chance of seeing things and all.
but eww!!!
And I even kinda found out, that it wasn't exactly him i was still hankering for, just the sadness that i'd made a wrong decision, and couldn't believe it at first. and desperately wanted to right all wrongs.
So, i'm finally over the boy. And in commemoration,
LINES FOR THE BOY, THE LOVER, AND THE BASTARD.
If it is asked of me,
whereof my time was spent,
and so where i gave most.
I'll have nothing to say,
but "a day that is past;
a joy nearly forgotten,
and a love that fadeth away"
~Moi
Well, its not really a man-bashing poem. But for man bashing, look up Alanis Morissette's You Oughta Know 've been listening to a lot of that. Feels good to be single.
Mmmm...
(btw, i recently discovered the joy of hyperlinks, so am celebrating)
A lil more serious now. I'm not gonna get into a relationship for a looooooooong time. I'll be more on my guard (subconsciously, its no punishment) and much more acidic. Lotsa people flirting now actually, i flirt back. Its such good fun! and those silly guys are sooo sweet!
I gotta take care o' my hair. Dandruff's recurred.
D's dead. or that's what i suspect. Hasn't turned up for college, tuts, not even a phone call.
Wow!
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
my future; it loves the post coital ciggy!!!!!!!!
Ok. So now there's this person i stalk, and when i say stalk the people who assume they know me should not think rabid, crazy ex-boyfriend-clinger. There's this twenty-something journalist in New Delhi who blogs and blogs, and did i mention blogs? I chanced upon it at a blogroll and have been hooked. Her life sounds just the way i would have described the sixteen years of mine. Just the way i explain the things i think are important - she talks of pink not looking gay on some guys, how we sometimes lose out by having too many choices.
She's intelligent, losing at love, just the Ally McBeal sorta thing.
I just saw my future.
I just saw the events that shaped her persona, rounded her personality, and have made her who she is; and i see me treading down similar pathways. It doesn't scare me, per se. Just freaks the hell outta me.
'S far as outlook's concerned - I don't mind the fast and loose lifestyle one bit. It makes for good coffee-break gossip, slumber party jokes, and just for a satirical grin-and-sighing look back at your life. But i want my life not to turn out that way. The way she says "I sometimes regret the way love making has become random sex" No, no, noooooooooooooo.
I want my life to be perfect. Don't I care enough to make that happen? Can I really continue to be the butt of whose-life-sucks-more jokes forever?
She's practically addicted to nicotine. She's been the teeny bopper, party hopper person. And her blog, her life story mind you, makes for such interesting read when you have free internet and nothing else to do.
Maybe it'll be nice to chronicle it out later in an autobiography I'd write, years down the line, "the mistakes i made, and all that i pretended to learn from 'em"
But won't sensible action, restraint and aloofness make for better ego massages? Wouldn't I love looking back at that girl and saying, "I'm glad i turned out fine. Life's really not worth living if you can't do the right things".
Of course, if i had a substantial number of readers on my blog, this would've sparked off the debate of what's right and not. But that's not my point.
I don't even care much bout convention making it easy for you. Nothing is convention anymore because we have too many choices (echo?)
I want to do it right. Because i've always laughed it off, assuming, knowing somewhere deep down that i can do it perfectly - effortlessly. I'm not patient enough for it that's all. Pocket-sized dynamite i'm called.
I'm going to do it right. And there's no better time; i've been in two relationships and i'm just bout to be 17. (Not that the second one's technically over, i won't let it be, but why bring it up everywhere?)
I'm practically doodling on my papers, and twelfth is the most important year.
I have an entrance exam i desperately need to ace.
I have an image, that i will now protect.
Of course, at the end of it all, its 3:45 in the morning, I'm feeling gastric cuz there're no damn biscuits in this blooody house, and we are free to do anything we want with words.
That's the thing you know, once you say something, there's no unseen cord binding you to your word. You're free as before to defy it, just that you won't be trusted much nemore.
its just a heady hangover. I thought i saw my future, you actually went through the trouble of reading it upto here when i began with something that crazy?
Maybe tomorrow, or better, in the next life.
That's when.
She's intelligent, losing at love, just the Ally McBeal sorta thing.
I just saw my future.
I just saw the events that shaped her persona, rounded her personality, and have made her who she is; and i see me treading down similar pathways. It doesn't scare me, per se. Just freaks the hell outta me.
'S far as outlook's concerned - I don't mind the fast and loose lifestyle one bit. It makes for good coffee-break gossip, slumber party jokes, and just for a satirical grin-and-sighing look back at your life. But i want my life not to turn out that way. The way she says "I sometimes regret the way love making has become random sex" No, no, noooooooooooooo.
I want my life to be perfect. Don't I care enough to make that happen? Can I really continue to be the butt of whose-life-sucks-more jokes forever?
She's practically addicted to nicotine. She's been the teeny bopper, party hopper person. And her blog, her life story mind you, makes for such interesting read when you have free internet and nothing else to do.
Maybe it'll be nice to chronicle it out later in an autobiography I'd write, years down the line, "the mistakes i made, and all that i pretended to learn from 'em"
But won't sensible action, restraint and aloofness make for better ego massages? Wouldn't I love looking back at that girl and saying, "I'm glad i turned out fine. Life's really not worth living if you can't do the right things".
Of course, if i had a substantial number of readers on my blog, this would've sparked off the debate of what's right and not. But that's not my point.
I don't even care much bout convention making it easy for you. Nothing is convention anymore because we have too many choices (echo?)
I want to do it right. Because i've always laughed it off, assuming, knowing somewhere deep down that i can do it perfectly - effortlessly. I'm not patient enough for it that's all. Pocket-sized dynamite i'm called.
I'm going to do it right. And there's no better time; i've been in two relationships and i'm just bout to be 17. (Not that the second one's technically over, i won't let it be, but why bring it up everywhere?)
I'm practically doodling on my papers, and twelfth is the most important year.
I have an entrance exam i desperately need to ace.
I have an image, that i will now protect.
Of course, at the end of it all, its 3:45 in the morning, I'm feeling gastric cuz there're no damn biscuits in this blooody house, and we are free to do anything we want with words.
That's the thing you know, once you say something, there's no unseen cord binding you to your word. You're free as before to defy it, just that you won't be trusted much nemore.
its just a heady hangover. I thought i saw my future, you actually went through the trouble of reading it upto here when i began with something that crazy?
Maybe tomorrow, or better, in the next life.
That's when.
Saturday, November 12, 2005
and Something just took it away...
And something just took it away;
And will probably never bring it back again…
But there were to be so many more
Afternoons when I lay by your side,
Making no effort to fill in the drowsy silences…
There were so many more poor jokes to share,
And get you annoyed at my sense of humor,
And have you ask me to do sth bout my ego!
And them messages, let’s not forget that trusty medium,
What I would give to have you receive my love again,
With open arms, joyous heart, and twinkling smile.
And when you would touch me. Oh! That you did!
…You made my world darling,
I’m still faint from knowing you exist.
And when I’m spending those noons,
And nights alone instead,
I will press a finger to my lips and sigh,
No one should see me cry.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Sunday, September 18, 2005
Changer Danger!!
name says it all basically. I've changed, since the 'thing' - man, i knew my honesty was a problem with me, anyway, i guess this is the right way to go about it - slow and steady, and i will actually grow, not behave like a pseudoperson only in particular company.
Change is one thing that everybody dreads. Well, not really, because that's the only thing they've been doing consistently - but a conscious and glaring huge change. For instance, our 'break'. We've just decided to remain good (read: best) friends for a while, and over the past few days, i wasn't even assuaging a broken heart. 'Friends' is working out fine with me. Yeah, sometimes i start imagining things which this blog isn't worthy of mention for.
Well, i suppose this is more like a tribute. For all the things we'd been, the fun we'd had, the intimacy we shared (no pervert, not just the physical intimacy) biggest problem is now i won't know where the 'line' is. Sucks big time. But i know for a fact, that things will look back up, i will make them look up. I think i was responsible for the fall-out, well, i'll repair it all the way back.
As Rand would put it, her struggle was only a tribute to him, so he would fight back harder and his victory would be sweeter.
Feminists, don't read this. At the end of the day, i don't mind being his personal myrmidon - as he has submitted in me everything that he is.
Strange stuff to read huh? Pk thanks for a quote you'd used, i think it'll be appropriate here "there's not much to say, there's too much to feel"
and yes, i'm still going to Karwar, and am joining NUJS. If it "opens wounds" or brings back "stygian horrors",
So be it. I will prove my strength by handling them.
Change is one thing that everybody dreads. Well, not really, because that's the only thing they've been doing consistently - but a conscious and glaring huge change. For instance, our 'break'. We've just decided to remain good (read: best) friends for a while, and over the past few days, i wasn't even assuaging a broken heart. 'Friends' is working out fine with me. Yeah, sometimes i start imagining things which this blog isn't worthy of mention for.
Well, i suppose this is more like a tribute. For all the things we'd been, the fun we'd had, the intimacy we shared (no pervert, not just the physical intimacy) biggest problem is now i won't know where the 'line' is. Sucks big time. But i know for a fact, that things will look back up, i will make them look up. I think i was responsible for the fall-out, well, i'll repair it all the way back.
As Rand would put it, her struggle was only a tribute to him, so he would fight back harder and his victory would be sweeter.
Feminists, don't read this. At the end of the day, i don't mind being his personal myrmidon - as he has submitted in me everything that he is.
Strange stuff to read huh? Pk thanks for a quote you'd used, i think it'll be appropriate here "there's not much to say, there's too much to feel"
and yes, i'm still going to Karwar, and am joining NUJS. If it "opens wounds" or brings back "stygian horrors",
So be it. I will prove my strength by handling them.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
another one of those, you can't help but nod your head on and on for, come to think of it, its really touching
Crash Davis: After 12 years in the minor leagues, I don't try out. Besides, uh, I don't believe in quantum physics when it comes to matters of the heart.
Annie Savoy: What do you believe in, then?
Crash
Friday, September 02, 2005
That
We've become immune to reality. Everyday we spend online, playing video games, watching movies, and slowly digesting whatever form of pop-culture garbage that the world feeds us is another day in which we grow further detached from the world as it really is. People believe what the world media tells them, because it's the media that tells it- even the rebellious individuals that claim to have a mind of their own are still pawns of a conspiracy that has shaped them to be the individuals they think they want to be. Regardless of race, wealth, or popular social subculture, every one of us is playing someone else's game by someone else's rules, irrevocably tied in with a destiny we've been brainwashed into believing we want. If you have freedom of speech it's because the ones pulling your strings know you don't have the capability to do it. Stop being so romantic about your rights and freedoms, they have no meaning in a world where the people abusing them are mere shadows of the ones who shed blood to acquire them. We are a cosmic joke.
That nobody gets.
i read this on some random forum. it took the breath outta me.
its so fuckin confrontational and almost entirely true. i love the honesty
That nobody gets.
i read this on some random forum. it took the breath outta me.
its so fuckin confrontational and almost entirely true. i love the honesty
Thursday, August 25, 2005
Viola!
the heading is actually to be read as, why law?
and the question is subsequently answered.
Black and white. Wrong and right. Yin and Yang. Everything , will in the end be flattened to the same level like it happened after the deluge in Mumbai. The wrong will definitely be punished, the law of karma is ever binding.
This brings me to a question Nick asked me about why i chose law. I don't think i was equipped enough to answer the question then - because i started to blame the law.'A bad workman blames his tools.'
But now i feel i can answer the question satisfactorily.
Justice is truth.
Truth is reason.
Reason is whose mercy upon which we thrive.
Not that a written code of conduct is to be strictly folowed, but law helps in guiding your life straighter lines, which makes for your participation in society. We are in every way connected to other people, no man is an island. Society and its opinions are our yardsticks, whichever side of the line we're on. (For eg., we might be 'bad' only because everyone else has a higher degree of goodness)
Now, why law?
I'll try to answer that indirectly. A situation was placed before me, wherein a poor man direly in need of money murders this man who's well off and takes his money. Nick said justice would be if the poor man was availed money by different means, not if he was put behind bars.
I couldn't answer well then, but here is a good idea.
We are all born as we are, in our families, to our parents, as a result of 'chance'. The nation (a nation is only an abstract idea, scrape away people, and their values and it doesn't exist) is not liable for a person's birth, fate and his standing in society.
The government is only the elected representative promoting order and sorting out administrative difficulties, and being a leader when the people need one.
In this particular case, a man lost his life due to another's misery. In such a case, the law requires that both people be treated equally, for in the end that's all it came to, one, armed; the other- defenceless, and their monetary status was irrelevant at the point of murder. The poor man's logic is irrefutable - but so is the rich man's (bless his soul) - I procured my money, through hardwork or by inheritance. It's not my fault that the man is poor.
A combination of logistics then, based on whichever is more oriented towards the general, wide-angle view of normalcy in society triumphs.
For in the end, we survive on the banks of sanity - so we can prevent random and protect people from harm.
Law makes its entry here.
Where we need an impartial party, because if there is agreement, there is bound to be disagreement by virtue of them being two sides of the same coin. disputes need to be sorted, upheavals nullified - and somebody that looks upon a situation and only gives it the value and attention it deserves - objectively.
In another instance, if one person slaps another with weak teeth, and all his teeth fall out, the slapper is only held liable for the hurt caused due to the strike and not the falling off of his teeth. Because weak teeth aren't normal - and normalcy accounts for justice.
And it isn't that normalcy doesn't comply with reason.
In fact, normalcy is an offshoot of collective reason, and derives its definition from it.
And that's why, i guess, law.
Deciphering the cryptic code, untangling the twisted web of the human mind - applying a logic as clear cut as math in everyday life and situations. The joy of reasoning...finally i did justice to the question!
and the question is subsequently answered.
Black and white. Wrong and right. Yin and Yang. Everything , will in the end be flattened to the same level like it happened after the deluge in Mumbai. The wrong will definitely be punished, the law of karma is ever binding.
This brings me to a question Nick asked me about why i chose law. I don't think i was equipped enough to answer the question then - because i started to blame the law.'A bad workman blames his tools.'
But now i feel i can answer the question satisfactorily.
Justice is truth.
Truth is reason.
Reason is whose mercy upon which we thrive.
Not that a written code of conduct is to be strictly folowed, but law helps in guiding your life straighter lines, which makes for your participation in society. We are in every way connected to other people, no man is an island. Society and its opinions are our yardsticks, whichever side of the line we're on. (For eg., we might be 'bad' only because everyone else has a higher degree of goodness)
Now, why law?
I'll try to answer that indirectly. A situation was placed before me, wherein a poor man direly in need of money murders this man who's well off and takes his money. Nick said justice would be if the poor man was availed money by different means, not if he was put behind bars.
I couldn't answer well then, but here is a good idea.
We are all born as we are, in our families, to our parents, as a result of 'chance'. The nation (a nation is only an abstract idea, scrape away people, and their values and it doesn't exist) is not liable for a person's birth, fate and his standing in society.
The government is only the elected representative promoting order and sorting out administrative difficulties, and being a leader when the people need one.
In this particular case, a man lost his life due to another's misery. In such a case, the law requires that both people be treated equally, for in the end that's all it came to, one, armed; the other- defenceless, and their monetary status was irrelevant at the point of murder. The poor man's logic is irrefutable - but so is the rich man's (bless his soul) - I procured my money, through hardwork or by inheritance. It's not my fault that the man is poor.
A combination of logistics then, based on whichever is more oriented towards the general, wide-angle view of normalcy in society triumphs.
For in the end, we survive on the banks of sanity - so we can prevent random and protect people from harm.
Law makes its entry here.
Where we need an impartial party, because if there is agreement, there is bound to be disagreement by virtue of them being two sides of the same coin. disputes need to be sorted, upheavals nullified - and somebody that looks upon a situation and only gives it the value and attention it deserves - objectively.
In another instance, if one person slaps another with weak teeth, and all his teeth fall out, the slapper is only held liable for the hurt caused due to the strike and not the falling off of his teeth. Because weak teeth aren't normal - and normalcy accounts for justice.
And it isn't that normalcy doesn't comply with reason.
In fact, normalcy is an offshoot of collective reason, and derives its definition from it.
And that's why, i guess, law.
Deciphering the cryptic code, untangling the twisted web of the human mind - applying a logic as clear cut as math in everyday life and situations. The joy of reasoning...finally i did justice to the question!
Sunday, August 21, 2005
i apologize - whether u like it or not.
i was wondering if i have enough sense to make the discretion between a private blog and one for the world to see, and i now realize i don't. So, preetika and if existent, any other visitor, please bear while i...let out.
It's actually by a great effort that i'm sitting myself down to type this out. and i dont think i'm gonna last till the point i wanna make.
I finally realized where we were different B, and it sort of saddens me that we didn't see that coming, and even if we did individually, we didn't talk it out so we could put it behind us. The two of you, if you've noticed, are much more cynical. And you think yourself strictly above some things, some of that strength you derive is from each other. Whereas with H and me, we don't entrust ourselves to each other. You remember you said, his problems might become my problems? well, they were, much before we met. We're pretty similar that way. We've given each other utmost freedom, so much so, even the slightest interference is deemed unhealthy. You might scoff at it in all probability - but i've seen you guys, and i've seen where your inherent weakness lies; i'm real sorry but i wouldn't wanna trade.
After my conversation with N today, i sought an answer to the question making rounds in my head - either way, one of us is gonna get hurt. If i come on so defensive, that it actually offends, you get hurt, but if i shut up and let you go on, i'll be real upset. I don't know if this is the way it should be.
And by all means, you shouldn't be reading this; you were part of an experiment that went horribly wrong. Horribly. But, my curiosity did get the better of me - i'm sorry, whether you like it or not.
It's actually by a great effort that i'm sitting myself down to type this out. and i dont think i'm gonna last till the point i wanna make.
I finally realized where we were different B, and it sort of saddens me that we didn't see that coming, and even if we did individually, we didn't talk it out so we could put it behind us. The two of you, if you've noticed, are much more cynical. And you think yourself strictly above some things, some of that strength you derive is from each other. Whereas with H and me, we don't entrust ourselves to each other. You remember you said, his problems might become my problems? well, they were, much before we met. We're pretty similar that way. We've given each other utmost freedom, so much so, even the slightest interference is deemed unhealthy. You might scoff at it in all probability - but i've seen you guys, and i've seen where your inherent weakness lies; i'm real sorry but i wouldn't wanna trade.
After my conversation with N today, i sought an answer to the question making rounds in my head - either way, one of us is gonna get hurt. If i come on so defensive, that it actually offends, you get hurt, but if i shut up and let you go on, i'll be real upset. I don't know if this is the way it should be.
And by all means, you shouldn't be reading this; you were part of an experiment that went horribly wrong. Horribly. But, my curiosity did get the better of me - i'm sorry, whether you like it or not.
Saturday, August 13, 2005
My theory - its still raw.
‘A guilty scion of some hopeless miscreants, I am’ – a line I’d used in a previous piece of poetry. But I don’t agree now, no. I’m not guilty.
I can’t help but feel that we are the scientists. Every one of us, save the few unwilling guinea pigs of course. We, the one writing this and the ones that’ll read it, belong to a millennium that holds great ties to the ones that discovered water, land, energy, food, transport, money, electricity, communication. We invented machinery, vehicles, gadgets, agriculture, and art and toyed with philosophical questions ethics, finesse and introspection and questions and more questions falling in an endless void of meaning and garble-babble in one mixed bag.
And finally we concluded that questioning was a benchmark of profoundness and erudition; that curiosity was the only thing that kept us going.
We took pride in not knowing, and rightly so. We had no other choice!
A lot of people shout themselves hoarse trying to bring to your notice the ruthless erosion we are making of the Earth’s cover, the cultivation and re-cultivation until a time comes where the land is rendered unfit for further use. Ask us to take steps to slow it down, bring down the mindless destruction – but their pleas fall on deaf ears.
Mine voice used to plead – now I’ve clogged my cochlea. And I’m better off this way, than the constant biting guilt – ugh, I finally grew out of it.
My theory is that we will continue to expand and erode at this very rate and maybe faster as the years go by, until we proverbially lie down in the coffins we built by beheading trees. Curiosity and the unending thirst to know, surpasses values and the mystery wrapped around concepts of divinity.
Vielleicht das nachste mal.
In a different era, a different time zone.
But we, are part of this era, this race which is doomed to imperfection. As we’re the unafraid lot – the stunt guys. We can see what has resulted of our impulses and our crudeness.
Mother nature will have to allow our mistakes this time, we were in the process of discovery – exploration. In our urge to ‘find out’ and unearth ideas of modern science, technology and the never ending arenas that capture the human mind day after day, we got a little too excited. Too much in too little time, I’d say. That we have conceptualized and envisaged neo-tech and science growing beyond reaches we can ever claim to have walked by. Our minds are, at the moment juggernauts waiting to crush. Maybe the juggernaut will launch itself into a self-deprecating avalanche and finally perish. But if it is to perish, it will do so in glory. With the jewels of the fresh and indigenous knowledge encrusted in our gravestones.
The ones that come later on, will have fewer instincts, urges, will lead more pacific lives.
But they’ll miss out on wondering as we did, just as we did with applied geography.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
ME aGaInsT tHe mOneY!!
I was at Coffee day with Nikhil today. (God, i used to wait for the time when i could say that casually) Yes, i spent my money on a chococino, and also wasted my fuel in riding uptil there, back to college, where i realized i didn't have my observation book and came back home. What a terrible waste of time and money (and here i am, blogging. Wah!)
I was thinking how easy it is for me to do things, experience 'the life' - lead a comfortable existence in the lap of luxury. With nothing much to worry about, save my academics - which had taken a severe beating at the beginning of the year...
I'm living a wonderful life. I'm well-off, intelligent, ambitious, fun-loving and you know...good. I'm doing what i wanna, and nobody seems to have a problem.
Sometimes, i try to make myself feel guilty for not being a little thrifty bout my moolah. Upon calculation, i just realized that i got 800 bucks this month! the month isn't yet up, and i haven't gotten the 800 full figure, but still...man, i gotta save atleast 350 out of it, or it'll be a crying shame. My money management skills have never been something you can write home about, infact i haven't even earned money properly, if you don't count the pittance which i get from vacuuming, and gardening and the domestic drudgery. I feel like i'm wasting most of my time, i have so many facilities, so many things to do, and i thought i didn't have the time. pish-posh. i have as much time as i can want to have, if i really want something done, i'll have to forego sleep, but then - it'll be done! I need to become more valuable - that's in an abstract sense though. well, i need to do more, when i can. When i have the time and opportunity, i shouldn't waste it and look at others who started off together wimme and ended up at the top while i'm still groping. Nopey! Full steam ahead i say! I got work to do.
I was thinking how easy it is for me to do things, experience 'the life' - lead a comfortable existence in the lap of luxury. With nothing much to worry about, save my academics - which had taken a severe beating at the beginning of the year...
I'm living a wonderful life. I'm well-off, intelligent, ambitious, fun-loving and you know...good. I'm doing what i wanna, and nobody seems to have a problem.
Sometimes, i try to make myself feel guilty for not being a little thrifty bout my moolah. Upon calculation, i just realized that i got 800 bucks this month! the month isn't yet up, and i haven't gotten the 800 full figure, but still...man, i gotta save atleast 350 out of it, or it'll be a crying shame. My money management skills have never been something you can write home about, infact i haven't even earned money properly, if you don't count the pittance which i get from vacuuming, and gardening and the domestic drudgery. I feel like i'm wasting most of my time, i have so many facilities, so many things to do, and i thought i didn't have the time. pish-posh. i have as much time as i can want to have, if i really want something done, i'll have to forego sleep, but then - it'll be done! I need to become more valuable - that's in an abstract sense though. well, i need to do more, when i can. When i have the time and opportunity, i shouldn't waste it and look at others who started off together wimme and ended up at the top while i'm still groping. Nopey! Full steam ahead i say! I got work to do.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox
Beauty is truth - truth beauty.
Music and laughter, good food and drink. Interesting conversations with people - i sometimes wonder what more i want...really. Except for money, of course, which facilitates all of these, easily.
Music does encompass me. It fulfills me. Makes me feel happy for being alive - i have to, its a must, for me to listen to music, some form of it, everyday. Apart from myself humming random tunes in my head throughout the day, that doesn't count.
Drastically off topic,
but, i was at Yeshas's treat today - it was pretty okay. I was being myself - and people liked it, moreover, i did as well. There was no ambiguity as to what i was going to say next and all, i knew i would say the right thing, because i was allowing myself to say whatever i wanted. Turns out i'm not that rude, or that boring, or that overbearing and sensitive.
It was just me and a few guys. But we had fun, it wasn't like there was a clear demarcation.
People aren't dumb, we just make it harder for ourselves if we think so. and if it does get so hard, just remove yourself, its all in the mind.
Music and laughter, good food and drink. Interesting conversations with people - i sometimes wonder what more i want...really. Except for money, of course, which facilitates all of these, easily.
Music does encompass me. It fulfills me. Makes me feel happy for being alive - i have to, its a must, for me to listen to music, some form of it, everyday. Apart from myself humming random tunes in my head throughout the day, that doesn't count.
Drastically off topic,
but, i was at Yeshas's treat today - it was pretty okay. I was being myself - and people liked it, moreover, i did as well. There was no ambiguity as to what i was going to say next and all, i knew i would say the right thing, because i was allowing myself to say whatever i wanted. Turns out i'm not that rude, or that boring, or that overbearing and sensitive.
It was just me and a few guys. But we had fun, it wasn't like there was a clear demarcation.
People aren't dumb, we just make it harder for ourselves if we think so. and if it does get so hard, just remove yourself, its all in the mind.
Saturday, August 06, 2005
WHEW!!
VInoba Bhave said he'd like to be remembered as a person who did as he preached. As i go along the meandering path of self-discovery - i realize how hard it is to do that. I usually dismiss such things as bunkum, the affinity people have for the 'propah' and 'righteous' now, i gotta see what the other side actually is, and make new decisions accordingly. This i will allow myself, for this one year, whatever i am - whoever i be, will be a conscious volition.
Monday, August 01, 2005
why don't you see it?
look hard. think hard. seriously.
i hate it when we start considering it a duty to care for someone. We have choices, if we want to run away from someone, its our choice. If it would be potentially dangerous for either them or us, it might be wrong, but it still is our choice. If we are prepared to take the flak and justify what we did - its done. We needn't question our choices, we should contemplate the reasons for making them - that's all.
Most people I know, especially immediate family, seem to want to work towards making this a family. I don't agree with that approach, at all. It all becomes forced, and fake after a while. We start expecting, in fact, demanding favours. And additionally demand that they all be done without any hesitance or reluctance. No. I believe, everyone does everything for themselves. And there's nothing wrong with it anyway, but i'll look into that some other time.
We tend to engage in roleplay more often than not. It reduces the burden of thinking and planning originally to a large extent, which we are 'too tired' to do most of the time. And moreover these are tried and tested methods, with readymade solutions - we lose on our actual relations. I can't stand that fakeness, and anybody who blames me or gets pissed at me for being honest can take a hike. For me its one way or the other, i don't see the gray path.
Why do we take up events and subjects and view them from the point of view of what we're supposed to do with them? And not what we want to do? Because as long as it is really what we want, we can justify it with real sense.
I heard so many ridiculous statements being made by my mom yday; one of them went, "this is what a sister is supposed to do" when she asked me to advice my sis bout something and i refused. How does she know? How on earth can she claim to know better what i'm supposed to do than myself?
Frustration can turn you crazy sometimes. Frustration that comes out of not having done the right thing at the right time; and the only right thing is whatever you want to do. Period.
i hate it when we start considering it a duty to care for someone. We have choices, if we want to run away from someone, its our choice. If it would be potentially dangerous for either them or us, it might be wrong, but it still is our choice. If we are prepared to take the flak and justify what we did - its done. We needn't question our choices, we should contemplate the reasons for making them - that's all.
Most people I know, especially immediate family, seem to want to work towards making this a family. I don't agree with that approach, at all. It all becomes forced, and fake after a while. We start expecting, in fact, demanding favours. And additionally demand that they all be done without any hesitance or reluctance. No. I believe, everyone does everything for themselves. And there's nothing wrong with it anyway, but i'll look into that some other time.
We tend to engage in roleplay more often than not. It reduces the burden of thinking and planning originally to a large extent, which we are 'too tired' to do most of the time. And moreover these are tried and tested methods, with readymade solutions - we lose on our actual relations. I can't stand that fakeness, and anybody who blames me or gets pissed at me for being honest can take a hike. For me its one way or the other, i don't see the gray path.
Why do we take up events and subjects and view them from the point of view of what we're supposed to do with them? And not what we want to do? Because as long as it is really what we want, we can justify it with real sense.
I heard so many ridiculous statements being made by my mom yday; one of them went, "this is what a sister is supposed to do" when she asked me to advice my sis bout something and i refused. How does she know? How on earth can she claim to know better what i'm supposed to do than myself?
Frustration can turn you crazy sometimes. Frustration that comes out of not having done the right thing at the right time; and the only right thing is whatever you want to do. Period.
Thursday, July 28, 2005
The price that we must pay
amelie
I've questioned it, parried with the thought, and run it through my head bout a hundred times, its hard to digest; that's all. Freedom comes at a heavy price, i'm not regretting, its not a warning. Just a statement, only those prepared to do whatever it takes to get it, the ones who hanker and lust for freedom can live up to that promise. It's not a challenge, its just a way of life. When you want freedom, you gotta establish yourself as worthy of it, not because someone owns your life and you must take their permission and shit, but cuz the world has thorns poking you from unlikely places, which you must be prepared to overcome.
Its better i don't speak abstract. Let's look at it another way, with freedom comes utmost responsibility.
'The more freedom we enjoy, the greater the responsibility we bear, toward others as well as ourselves.'
Oscar Arias Sanchez (1941 - )
Its true, once we deem ourselves unshackled from the chains of other people, any sort of bond, however deeply embodied, we get a lotta freedom, but we also lose their cushioning, the liberality experienced in being wrong once in a while. Its all 'a-long-time-ago' once you get your 'freedom' you have to lose carelessness, in case you wanna be heard and you wanna be taken seriously. Which everybody wants, since they're part of a growing society, which constantly throws questions and expects conscious, well thought of answers. I've undergone, as Hemant puts it, an oceanic change in the last few months. I have changed, from aimless, wandering minstrel - the cute lil bouncy thingy, to this solemn and serious (not all the time though) law aspirant, who wants to write a dissertation on cloning, go to Karwar and Goa during the hols, buy a cellphone, join NUJS next year. All these are goals; some months ago, i disagreed with goals themselves. Talk about change of mind!
I have slowly, after hard times of lobbying and striving, found my freedom. It was here all along, to emancipate myself in my head from all the sources and people who i think hurt me was all i needed to do. And now i have, I have my books, my friends, my hobbies, my 'hubby' (why isn't this a private blog?), my style - everything mine. I've never actually had that, my freedom was finding all that, within myself - and reveling in it.
I read a quote somewhere else, i don't know by whom, but it was lovely, "a person can do whatever he wishes to do, and he doesn't owe anyone anything except to stand by his act" It is so hard, to take up responsibility, to own up - God! ask me, but i've found my weaknesses and masked them, i've found my strengths and consolidated them, i'm still growing, but now in the right direction - not nowhere, but upwards. (god i wish i was being literal)
Nowadays, i'm not questioned as to where i'm going, what i'm doing and who i was with, of course, subject to reasonable restrictions - it makes me happy. I feel good about myself. The only way to shoulder responsibility is to assume it, take any passing chance; you must prove it, if you don't ask you don't get. Demand it, but make sure, when you get it, you know what you want to do with it.
For me, it is just the clarity of thought that i derive from this, not that i want to do something particularly scandalous that i don't wanna explain. I have a reason for everything that i do. And therefore the struggle for freedom. I love my freedom, but the bitch is high maintenance.
I've questioned it, parried with the thought, and run it through my head bout a hundred times, its hard to digest; that's all. Freedom comes at a heavy price, i'm not regretting, its not a warning. Just a statement, only those prepared to do whatever it takes to get it, the ones who hanker and lust for freedom can live up to that promise. It's not a challenge, its just a way of life. When you want freedom, you gotta establish yourself as worthy of it, not because someone owns your life and you must take their permission and shit, but cuz the world has thorns poking you from unlikely places, which you must be prepared to overcome.
Its better i don't speak abstract. Let's look at it another way, with freedom comes utmost responsibility.
'The more freedom we enjoy, the greater the responsibility we bear, toward others as well as ourselves.'
Oscar Arias Sanchez (1941 - )
Its true, once we deem ourselves unshackled from the chains of other people, any sort of bond, however deeply embodied, we get a lotta freedom, but we also lose their cushioning, the liberality experienced in being wrong once in a while. Its all 'a-long-time-ago' once you get your 'freedom' you have to lose carelessness, in case you wanna be heard and you wanna be taken seriously. Which everybody wants, since they're part of a growing society, which constantly throws questions and expects conscious, well thought of answers. I've undergone, as Hemant puts it, an oceanic change in the last few months. I have changed, from aimless, wandering minstrel - the cute lil bouncy thingy, to this solemn and serious (not all the time though) law aspirant, who wants to write a dissertation on cloning, go to Karwar and Goa during the hols, buy a cellphone, join NUJS next year. All these are goals; some months ago, i disagreed with goals themselves. Talk about change of mind!
I have slowly, after hard times of lobbying and striving, found my freedom. It was here all along, to emancipate myself in my head from all the sources and people who i think hurt me was all i needed to do. And now i have, I have my books, my friends, my hobbies, my 'hubby' (why isn't this a private blog?), my style - everything mine. I've never actually had that, my freedom was finding all that, within myself - and reveling in it.
I read a quote somewhere else, i don't know by whom, but it was lovely, "a person can do whatever he wishes to do, and he doesn't owe anyone anything except to stand by his act" It is so hard, to take up responsibility, to own up - God! ask me, but i've found my weaknesses and masked them, i've found my strengths and consolidated them, i'm still growing, but now in the right direction - not nowhere, but upwards. (god i wish i was being literal)
Nowadays, i'm not questioned as to where i'm going, what i'm doing and who i was with, of course, subject to reasonable restrictions - it makes me happy. I feel good about myself. The only way to shoulder responsibility is to assume it, take any passing chance; you must prove it, if you don't ask you don't get. Demand it, but make sure, when you get it, you know what you want to do with it.
For me, it is just the clarity of thought that i derive from this, not that i want to do something particularly scandalous that i don't wanna explain. I have a reason for everything that i do. And therefore the struggle for freedom. I love my freedom, but the bitch is high maintenance.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Can i say something?
amelie: July 2005
How many times have i asked for a chance?
Unable to prove my worth of deserving it?
how many times has it been denied?
and then, how many more times, will I lose?
How many times have i been told, "its alright" when its not.
It so is not. But i must nod, and blink the tears away.
Why do i secretly fear being labeled crazy? and pretend like i don't?
Am I in my right mind when i think that being different is gonna help from shielding the hurt?
I'm not different. okay? Deal with it.
I'm just the same as every other fucking person.
I want money, independence, and a mate.
Why do i think that wanting different things, will help heal the wound when i'm not able to achieve my normal goals?
I can be so happy. So simple.
We aren't trained to handle complications. We just like to think so.
I don't want to be somebody else, transfering someone's quote to my passion.
I'm not somebody else. Is there a way you can see it?
Is there a way to feel me, really, when you caress my naked body?
Have you found out yet? I don't know. I haven't let myself find out.
I keep fearing i'll pass out from the grief.
there isn't really a poetic sense to this, i just wrote this when i was feeling particularly miserable. Enjoy! Errr...or not, whatever!
How many times have i asked for a chance?
Unable to prove my worth of deserving it?
how many times has it been denied?
and then, how many more times, will I lose?
How many times have i been told, "its alright" when its not.
It so is not. But i must nod, and blink the tears away.
Why do i secretly fear being labeled crazy? and pretend like i don't?
Am I in my right mind when i think that being different is gonna help from shielding the hurt?
I'm not different. okay? Deal with it.
I'm just the same as every other fucking person.
I want money, independence, and a mate.
Why do i think that wanting different things, will help heal the wound when i'm not able to achieve my normal goals?
I can be so happy. So simple.
We aren't trained to handle complications. We just like to think so.
I don't want to be somebody else, transfering someone's quote to my passion.
I'm not somebody else. Is there a way you can see it?
Is there a way to feel me, really, when you caress my naked body?
Have you found out yet? I don't know. I haven't let myself find out.
I keep fearing i'll pass out from the grief.
there isn't really a poetic sense to this, i just wrote this when i was feeling particularly miserable. Enjoy! Errr...or not, whatever!
without any of this
amelie
Don't even try. Its got a lot of the past; the murky, blackened sooty past. Which gets right back up and slaps me in the face as i struggle to push it out of my brain. Something that stabs me in the stomach just so i realize that it was i who partook. Who said i wasn't playing with real feelings there? who said i wasn't gambling with relationships? But someone who can attempt to throw all that away and look ahead into the sunshine and a new day is immediately targeted. Them being happy is a sin. I hardly understand it. I am trying to be happy, but sometimes it tires me, to behave like the memories aren't strong enough to keep me chained to their replay in my head so many times in the day. Well, you could say i could do with a change in environment; but that's not going to be possible. I'm going to see him, even if i try avoiding him, atleast 4 times a week.
Well, a previous sentence of mine might have led some astray; i wasn't as i said 'playing' with feelings. I was completely immersed in my own too. I made myself vulnerable and readily up for hurt if that was what he wanted. Turns out, a lot of the time, it was.
I wouldn't call myself unlucky. Nosiree. Just not calculative, or sensible enough. And i'm trying to imbibe that in myself. Why the hell isn't it happening?
Because of my past. It's not effective enough trying to wipe it off; i have to instruct myself to live with it. Why oh why, can't he just let me be? And his concern, why? i don't want it! If i want to be bitter, let me be. If you wanna pity me, dare not do it at my face. But do as you please. Just don't plague my mind in this manner... don't eat away at my strength... if i want to stand up, be around and watch me do it, chiding me if i go wrong. I know what i'm doing; i'm no longer clueless or any of those 'cute, lil girly' things I was purported to be. And i'm making it pretty damned clear. Why then? In all probability, your opinion is going to be that this is a mistake. But if it is, i will solve it. Get away from my reach, you hideously protective conniver. i want out. From the past; which is already over, which i'm already out of. This, i guess, is an important lesson. It might be easy to get out of a painful and crazy situation, but getting the situation out of your mind, is more painful and crazy than you can ever fathom. You don't deserve it. Don't let a potentially weak side of you allow any of this to happen. You can live happily, without any of this.
Don't even try. Its got a lot of the past; the murky, blackened sooty past. Which gets right back up and slaps me in the face as i struggle to push it out of my brain. Something that stabs me in the stomach just so i realize that it was i who partook. Who said i wasn't playing with real feelings there? who said i wasn't gambling with relationships? But someone who can attempt to throw all that away and look ahead into the sunshine and a new day is immediately targeted. Them being happy is a sin. I hardly understand it. I am trying to be happy, but sometimes it tires me, to behave like the memories aren't strong enough to keep me chained to their replay in my head so many times in the day. Well, you could say i could do with a change in environment; but that's not going to be possible. I'm going to see him, even if i try avoiding him, atleast 4 times a week.
Well, a previous sentence of mine might have led some astray; i wasn't as i said 'playing' with feelings. I was completely immersed in my own too. I made myself vulnerable and readily up for hurt if that was what he wanted. Turns out, a lot of the time, it was.
I wouldn't call myself unlucky. Nosiree. Just not calculative, or sensible enough. And i'm trying to imbibe that in myself. Why the hell isn't it happening?
Because of my past. It's not effective enough trying to wipe it off; i have to instruct myself to live with it. Why oh why, can't he just let me be? And his concern, why? i don't want it! If i want to be bitter, let me be. If you wanna pity me, dare not do it at my face. But do as you please. Just don't plague my mind in this manner... don't eat away at my strength... if i want to stand up, be around and watch me do it, chiding me if i go wrong. I know what i'm doing; i'm no longer clueless or any of those 'cute, lil girly' things I was purported to be. And i'm making it pretty damned clear. Why then? In all probability, your opinion is going to be that this is a mistake. But if it is, i will solve it. Get away from my reach, you hideously protective conniver. i want out. From the past; which is already over, which i'm already out of. This, i guess, is an important lesson. It might be easy to get out of a painful and crazy situation, but getting the situation out of your mind, is more painful and crazy than you can ever fathom. You don't deserve it. Don't let a potentially weak side of you allow any of this to happen. You can live happily, without any of this.
Wednesday, July 13, 2005
the real thing is
amelie
a lot of people mistake what i really require when i use the term freedom. I need a lot of freedom believe me, sometimes that interferes with other's sense of peace and calm. But that's the way i am, i am irresponsible i am careless, sometimes. And that can totally be an ant crawling up a rigid perfectionist's back.
I had a major scuffle with one of my friends yesterday. She was the kind who would throw all her affection at me. She used to hug, kiss, and cuddle at any given opportunity. I wasn't fine with it after a certain point of time, but somehow felt it would all get okay. I just hadn't defined what okay meant to me. And when i broke her boyfriend's bike indicator, she blew up. This wasn't just another of my mishaps, she said. I'd crossed the line, it was the last straw and i wouldn't be able to get her back if i didn't mend my ways.
Mend my ways - first of all, i didn't see anything wrong
a lot of people mistake what i really require when i use the term freedom. I need a lot of freedom believe me, sometimes that interferes with other's sense of peace and calm. But that's the way i am, i am irresponsible i am careless, sometimes. And that can totally be an ant crawling up a rigid perfectionist's back.
I had a major scuffle with one of my friends yesterday. She was the kind who would throw all her affection at me. She used to hug, kiss, and cuddle at any given opportunity. I wasn't fine with it after a certain point of time, but somehow felt it would all get okay. I just hadn't defined what okay meant to me. And when i broke her boyfriend's bike indicator, she blew up. This wasn't just another of my mishaps, she said. I'd crossed the line, it was the last straw and i wouldn't be able to get her back if i didn't mend my ways.
Mend my ways - first of all, i didn't see anything wrong
Sunday, July 10, 2005
ABOUT A BOY
“if you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds of distance run, yours is the earth and everything that’s in it; and what’s more you’ll be a man my son.” - Rudyard Kipling
It came crashing down with a thundering noise and we girls in the back bench couldn’t contain our giggles…our plan had more than worked! It had excelled!
And Thomas sir still thought it was him; he was staring at him very intently almost as if determined to psychokinetically gouge out those extra large, scary eyes.
‘Scary eyes’ was always like this. He wanted to prove to every teacher that whatever they had in store for him, whatever they wanted him to do was bad for him. And he did not hesitate to show it in every which way.
He kept getting pulled up for numerous reasons about thrice every working day. And he didn’t tire of irking the teachers, believe me, his energy seemed to grow by leaps and bounds after every reprimand.
That fateful morning my friends and I up to our usual antics – we made mischief, though not all the time, and not so blatantly, like we were proud of it; there’s a podium that the teachers usually keep their registers and chalk boxes on top of in our classroom. Before the clang we arranged the podium so that it would fall down if a teacher put even a slight bit of his/her weight on it. And from the time the teacher entered we kept our eyes on his movements but he didn’t look like he was even going to touch the podium.
Meanwhile, ‘scary eyes’ was doling out his wisdom to the rest of his clout, how sir was dimwitted and how bored he felt in class, not in the least bothering to keep his voice low. (I’ve asked him many times why he attends classes if he doesn’t want to listen at all, but he looks at me patronizingly as though it’s something beyond my understanding)
He got pulled up by sir, admonished and was called to the front of the class – at that precise moment he chose to start chewing his gum ferociously; (and through some sudden movement on his part, the podium fell) he was told to go to the library if he wasn’t interested in the class, and scary eyes began to stride back to his place to pack his bags. He was somehow forgiven and made to sit in one of the front benches.
It seemed like the most normal day.
After the lunch break, we heard that ‘scary eyes’ was in the principal’s office – he’d been caught taking a girl’s snap with his friend’s camera cell-phone. That evening, outside the college, he was relating to us what had happened, and his voice was filled with mirth when he laughed and bid us goodbye. Apparently, this was the causa causans after everything else he’d done (after a tiff with a classmate, the classmate had bitten him, so he’d beaten him up) and they’d asked him to leave.
-x-
“The frustration born out of futile complaints must be omitted, and if that isn’t possible, you must channelize it in some manner so it doesn’t prove detrimental to your lifestyle.”
Scary eyes reserved gallons of energy in those eyes, which could scare even professors into recession. His gait would force people to create pathways for him.
I can’t put my finger on it; but he had a Hitler like fanaticism about him, which only a few cool heads could get through. He wouldn’t bedazzle you with pearls of wisdom, he didn’t have ‘a way with words’ – but he made an excellent ringleader.
I just had to write this down. If I would ever write a controversial petition, make a dangerous guarantee – his would be the case.
Mainly because he dared to be different in a world wrought out of originality, delved into boredom, populated with clones; because he chose to give himself a voice, a loud one at that, and scary eyes, instead of directing them at his shoes everytime a teacher made against him a causeless accusation. I’m not saying everything he did was utterly sensible and deserved all the plaudits that can be gathered. Rather, I laugh at this hyperactive tendency of his. But still, he had his trademark, and he held on to it.
If I made an appeal, it would look like this, “We always look for opportunities all over wherein we can be the bigger person, magnanimous and condescending – well, here it is. A passionate, directionless soul daring to question your guidance instead of obsequiously accepting it without a whimper. Answer him. Don’t shy away in fear of the fact that you haven’t bothered to find the answers yourself. Give him the respect that he, by all means, does not deserve. You wouldn’t be talking to a boy any longer; you’d be looking at a man.”
‘Scary eyes’ left on Tuesday.
ABOUT A BOY
“if you can fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds of distance run, yours is the earth and everything that’s in it; and what’s more you’ll be a man my son.”
- Rudyard Kipling
It came crashing down with a thundering noise and we girls in the back bench couldn’t contain our giggles…our plan had more than worked! It had excelled!
And Thomas sir still thought it was him; he was staring at him very intently almost as if determined to psychokinetically gouge out those extra large, scary eyes.
‘Scary eyes’ was always like this. He wanted to prove to every teacher that whatever they had in store for him, whatever they wanted him to do was bad for him. And he did not hesitate to show it in every which way.
He kept getting pulled up for numerous reasons about thrice every working day. And he didn’t tire of irking the teachers, believe me, his energy seemed to grow by leaps and bounds after every reprimand.
That fateful morning my friends and I up to our usual antics – we made mischief, though not all the time, and not so blatantly, like we were proud of it; there’s a podium that the teachers usually keep their registers and chalk boxes on top of in our classroom. Before the clang we arranged the podium so that it would fall down if a teacher put even a slight bit of his/her weight on it. And from the time the teacher entered we kept our eyes on his movements but he didn’t look like he was even going to touch the podium.
Meanwhile, ‘scary eyes’ was doling out his wisdom to the rest of his clout, how sir was dimwitted and how bored he felt in class, not in the least bothering to keep his voice low. (I’ve asked him many times why he attends classes if he doesn’t want to listen at all, but he looks at me patronizingly as though it’s something beyond my understanding)
He got pulled up by sir, admonished and was called to the front of the class – at that precise moment he chose to start chewing his gum ferociously; (and through some sudden movement on his part, the podium fell) he was told to go to the library if he wasn’t interested in the class, and scary eyes began to stride back to his place to pack his bags. He was somehow forgiven and made to sit in one of the front benches.
It seemed like the most normal day.
After the lunch break, we heard that ‘scary eyes’ was in the principal’s office – he’d been caught taking a girl’s snap with his friend’s camera cell-phone. That evening, outside the college, he was relating to us what had happened, and his voice was filled with mirth when he laughed and bid us goodbye. Apparently, this was the causa causans after everything else he’d done (after a tiff with a classmate, the classmate had bitten him, so he’d beaten him up) and they’d asked him to leave.
-x-
“The frustration born out of futile complaints must be omitted, and if that isn’t possible, you must channelize it in some manner so it doesn’t prove detrimental to your lifestyle.”
Scary eyes reserved gallons of energy in those eyes, which could scare even professors into recession. His gait would force people to create pathways for him.
I can’t put my finger on it; but he had a Hitler like fanaticism about him, which only a few cool heads could get through. He wouldn’t bedazzle you with pearls of wisdom, he didn’t have ‘a way with words’ – but he made an excellent ringleader.
I just had to write this down. If I would ever write a controversial petition, make a dangerous guarantee – his would be the case.
Mainly because he dared to be different in a world wrought out of originality, delved into boredom, populated with clones; because he chose to give himself a voice, a loud one at that, and scary eyes, instead of directing them at his shoes everytime a teacher made against him a causeless accusation. I’m not saying everything he did was utterly sensible and deserved all the plaudits that can be gathered. Rather, I laugh at this hyperactive tendency of his. But still, he had his trademark, and he held on to it.
If I made an appeal, it would look like this, “We always look for opportunities all over wherein we can be the bigger person, magnanimous and condescending – well, here it is. A passionate, directionless soul daring to question your guidance instead of obsequiously accepting it without a whimper. Answer him. Don’t shy away in fear of the fact that you haven’t bothered to find the answers yourself. Give him the respect that he, by all means, does not deserve. You wouldn’t be talking to a boy any longer; you’d be looking at a man.”
‘Scary eyes’ left on Tuesday.
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