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How come writing on Word has suddenly become impossible? How come I'm such a general wasteland of creativity, my mind a graveyard for new inspiration, only fit to be haunted by the vultures of bad TV serials, repetitive cooking shows and inane news items? Why do I feel like writing pretty prose on a blog visited rarely by some perserverant old friends and family is a valuable addition to my otherwise uninspired life?
Questions questions questions. Ah I wish I had something to write about. Something meaningful, purposeful and grandiose! An adventure! Why cant I-
Oh god- I just realised the apostrophe key on my keyboard is dead. Nooo!! I cant live without punctuation. This excercise in self pity has taken a turn for the worse. Nevertheless, I shall ramble on, without apostrophes.
Where was I..Oh no!! My question mark key has failed as well!!! Dont take away my exclamation marks atleast! Leave me atleast this last one!
Labels for this post, they ask, and suggest scooters, vacation, fall.
Last fall, during my vacations I drove a scooter.
During my vacation I had broke an arm when I fell from my scooter.
Scooters fall under the category of things one must attempt to master during vacations.
When the wheels fell off, I knew it was time to send my scooter on a long vacation.
I fell in love with my scooter during the summer vacations last year.
Well. Atleast I know what its labels are :)
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Back to...
College-
Time to rant.
I hated the first day of college! God, it turns out that there is something worse than first year. The classes've been divided again- in the ratio of 56:56:26. I'm sorry, am I missing something? Any particular reason as to why the third class has only 26 people? This makes no sense. Why they couldn't just leave it at 70:65 or whatever. They just HAVE to meddle.
I thought ok. I'm atleast in the class with all the people I had last semester, things should be normal. Nooo. Everyone acts all weird and awkward. Come on! It was just 2 months not a lifetime and a half! The worst part? The silence. Like we're mourning the death of the little fun we used to have in class.
Nobody talks. Nobody even breathes loudly. If you sneeze its like a mini atom bomb going off which reverberates across the room for ten minutes. Teachers seem to be screaming, and the loudest background noise is the frying of puris in the canteen two blocks away.
The teachers. Are they on drugs of some kind? Why are they so hyperactive? Its a second year classroom not a bloody Broadway musical. They don't have to leap across the room like people possessed. Or they're so depressed about their meaningless existences that they dont even bother to modulate their voices. The words just fall out like drool from a sleeping person's mouth.
The block. Its new. We occupy the third floor. Noone else in the whole building so far as I know. Why have we been quarantined here? Are they afraid that deadness is contagious? And why is the loo so far away? Is it to be used as a bomb-shelter in case we're attacked by mutant male ninjas? Questions to which the answers will never be revealed. Oh MSRIT shrouded in mystery.
The subjects. I've learnt that you can NEVER DRAW A STRAIGHT LINE!! They have lied to you all your life!!! ITS ALL A LIE!!! Nooo!! Lol. Ok not much else.
Sigh. Don't send me back there. Please! I'll be your slave for life, I don't mind.
Time to rant.
I hated the first day of college! God, it turns out that there is something worse than first year. The classes've been divided again- in the ratio of 56:56:26. I'm sorry, am I missing something? Any particular reason as to why the third class has only 26 people? This makes no sense. Why they couldn't just leave it at 70:65 or whatever. They just HAVE to meddle.
I thought ok. I'm atleast in the class with all the people I had last semester, things should be normal. Nooo. Everyone acts all weird and awkward. Come on! It was just 2 months not a lifetime and a half! The worst part? The silence. Like we're mourning the death of the little fun we used to have in class.
Nobody talks. Nobody even breathes loudly. If you sneeze its like a mini atom bomb going off which reverberates across the room for ten minutes. Teachers seem to be screaming, and the loudest background noise is the frying of puris in the canteen two blocks away.
The teachers. Are they on drugs of some kind? Why are they so hyperactive? Its a second year classroom not a bloody Broadway musical. They don't have to leap across the room like people possessed. Or they're so depressed about their meaningless existences that they dont even bother to modulate their voices. The words just fall out like drool from a sleeping person's mouth.
The block. Its new. We occupy the third floor. Noone else in the whole building so far as I know. Why have we been quarantined here? Are they afraid that deadness is contagious? And why is the loo so far away? Is it to be used as a bomb-shelter in case we're attacked by mutant male ninjas? Questions to which the answers will never be revealed. Oh MSRIT shrouded in mystery.
The subjects. I've learnt that you can NEVER DRAW A STRAIGHT LINE!! They have lied to you all your life!!! ITS ALL A LIE!!! Nooo!! Lol. Ok not much else.
Sigh. Don't send me back there. Please! I'll be your slave for life, I don't mind.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Hollow years. Random thoughts+Music
Somedays are good, somedays are bad, somedays you just want to sleep through, and in the morning pretend they never were.
"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay.
Oh I believe in yesterday."
I wish that so many of my days weren't wasted in nothingness, sadness and a failure to live life to the fullest. The worst is knowing that these seconds of life are slipping away and still falling into the lethargy of not doing anything.
"I fear I've wasted all my sun, I fear I've wasted all my time. Everything is faded. Smiles are fabricated now. Held my eyes closed for too long. "
Remove one person from a multitude, you still have the multitude. But sometimes the multitude seems to be nothing without that person. Feeling alone isn't rational it doesn't make sense, it isn't the same as being alone.
“I know someday you'll have a beautiful life. I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky. But why can't it be mine?”
I wish I could forget things the way I can remember them. Why is it so hard to forget, why does your mind lock itself up in a prison of thoughts and sit there, crying at its own fate? I can't let go, I can't want to, though I want to want to let go. What do I do?
"She loves me not, she loves me still, but she'll never love again." **
So I sit, alone, regretful, and worried about nothing in particular. Just wanting to do something worthwhile, something beautiful and lovely that gives me purpose. I don't want to just drift away not having done anything. I can't go one, not making an impact on anything.
There once was a child who said
I want to change the world.
He went to school, and he learnt.
He learnt that the world is very big.
So he said, I want to change my country.
He grew, and he travelled.
He learnt that his country was big.
His country had a lot of problems.
So he said, I want to change my city.
He got a job, and he began to work.
He worked and worked and he made a lot of money.
He learnt that his city was big.
It was a city and he was just a man.
So he said I'll change my family.
He got married, had children.
He found out that his wife was a spendthrift.
His children were spoilt brats.
His in-laws used him for his money.
One day, he had a heartattack.
He lay in his bed, dying
He thought about his life.
He thought of the child who said
I want to change the world
And thought to himself
I should've started with myself.
"Once the stone
You're crawling under
Is lifted off your shoulders
Once the cloud that's raining
Over your head disappears
The noise that you'll hear
Is the crashing down of hollow years" - Dream Theater
"Yesterday, all my troubles seemed so far away. Now it looks as though they're here to stay.
Oh I believe in yesterday."
I wish that so many of my days weren't wasted in nothingness, sadness and a failure to live life to the fullest. The worst is knowing that these seconds of life are slipping away and still falling into the lethargy of not doing anything.
"I fear I've wasted all my sun, I fear I've wasted all my time. Everything is faded. Smiles are fabricated now. Held my eyes closed for too long. "
Remove one person from a multitude, you still have the multitude. But sometimes the multitude seems to be nothing without that person. Feeling alone isn't rational it doesn't make sense, it isn't the same as being alone.
“I know someday you'll have a beautiful life. I know you'll be a sun in somebody else's sky. But why can't it be mine?”
I wish I could forget things the way I can remember them. Why is it so hard to forget, why does your mind lock itself up in a prison of thoughts and sit there, crying at its own fate? I can't let go, I can't want to, though I want to want to let go. What do I do?
"She loves me not, she loves me still, but she'll never love again." **
So I sit, alone, regretful, and worried about nothing in particular. Just wanting to do something worthwhile, something beautiful and lovely that gives me purpose. I don't want to just drift away not having done anything. I can't go one, not making an impact on anything.
There once was a child who said
I want to change the world.
He went to school, and he learnt.
He learnt that the world is very big.
So he said, I want to change my country.
He grew, and he travelled.
He learnt that his country was big.
His country had a lot of problems.
So he said, I want to change my city.
He got a job, and he began to work.
He worked and worked and he made a lot of money.
He learnt that his city was big.
It was a city and he was just a man.
So he said I'll change my family.
He got married, had children.
He found out that his wife was a spendthrift.
His children were spoilt brats.
His in-laws used him for his money.
One day, he had a heartattack.
He lay in his bed, dying
He thought about his life.
He thought of the child who said
I want to change the world
And thought to himself
I should've started with myself.
"Once the stone
You're crawling under
Is lifted off your shoulders
Once the cloud that's raining
Over your head disappears
The noise that you'll hear
Is the crashing down of hollow years" - Dream Theater
Monday, August 2, 2010
Thoughts on thoughts
We are always thinking. Even when we think we aren't. Even when we're flipping through photos on Facebook, or watching TV, sometimes even when we're reading a book. Thoughts that float through your head like irridescent bubbles, if you don't try to catch them, they're gone so fast that if you suddenly look up from the page of the suspense novel you were readingwon't even realize that they were there.
These are the most startling thoughts, the ones which trickle by like sunshine, weightless and featherlike when you think that you're thinking of something else. And sometimes, when your feeling particularly clear headed (or conversely are so sleepy that you're waiting for your mind to drift off) you can pick out these thoughts. Sometimes I wonder, whose thoughts are these? They can be strange and heavy, filling you with a bewildered sadness which you can't pinpoint to anything in particular. They can be full of insight.
And when you see the things in your own mind like a recording of a foreign language movie, and I mean really see it, without feeling any emotions for the actors, who aren’t your friends and family but just people, you hear their words and believe them for what they are sometimes you understand things more clearly. The things we want to believe, the things we feel strongly like sadness jealousy and fear they impose onto people and incidents much the same way that music on a scene from a movie does. That becomes the thought, the real truth gets lost in the interpretation we make out of it. Whenever we recall the thought, we’re filled with all those emotions we associated with it.
Floating around in our subconscious, these pure memories, just people and words and actions, they lurk. And at that rare moment when you can understand it, they bring a world of clarity to you. You never have to feel anything, its all in your mind, what you feel is what you’ve decided to feel. Sounds too easy? But its true. To feel at peace with a memory which once caused you pain sometimes you have to just think of it, just the pure memory instead of avoiding it. Return it to what it is, just a plain thought. A piece of light. :)
These are the most startling thoughts, the ones which trickle by like sunshine, weightless and featherlike when you think that you're thinking of something else. And sometimes, when your feeling particularly clear headed (or conversely are so sleepy that you're waiting for your mind to drift off) you can pick out these thoughts. Sometimes I wonder, whose thoughts are these? They can be strange and heavy, filling you with a bewildered sadness which you can't pinpoint to anything in particular. They can be full of insight.
And when you see the things in your own mind like a recording of a foreign language movie, and I mean really see it, without feeling any emotions for the actors, who aren’t your friends and family but just people, you hear their words and believe them for what they are sometimes you understand things more clearly. The things we want to believe, the things we feel strongly like sadness jealousy and fear they impose onto people and incidents much the same way that music on a scene from a movie does. That becomes the thought, the real truth gets lost in the interpretation we make out of it. Whenever we recall the thought, we’re filled with all those emotions we associated with it.
Floating around in our subconscious, these pure memories, just people and words and actions, they lurk. And at that rare moment when you can understand it, they bring a world of clarity to you. You never have to feel anything, its all in your mind, what you feel is what you’ve decided to feel. Sounds too easy? But its true. To feel at peace with a memory which once caused you pain sometimes you have to just think of it, just the pure memory instead of avoiding it. Return it to what it is, just a plain thought. A piece of light. :)
Friday, July 30, 2010
I have a Blog :O
This must be how the big bad Millionaire, with a seed of goodness in his heart, feels when he finds out that he actually has a kid, and that his childhood sweetheart lied to him and told him that she adopted one, after suddenly disappearing for 9 months to Mexico. I have a kid/blog!! Oh my god, and here I was living my life, wondering at the blognosity of other people's lives, wondering why I was so backward and didn't have one. Turns out I do. And I have missed 2 of its crucial formative years! Oh no. Now I'll have to buy it expensive things to make up for being an absentee-blogger, and watch as it turns into a bad-boy-blog, who blows money on unimportant things, flaunts the latest gadet, and leads the good life (on the Upper East Side? ).
Yes, its true. I've been ODing on TV serials. They're dangerous, addictive, EVIL. The only safe ones are the ones like The Simpsons because the episodes aren't related. Or funny ones like Two and a Half Men, in which the basic plotline remains constant for a season at a time. Even if you do miss an episode you catch on pretty quick (Oh! Alan got married again. Cool man, whatever.) And then there's Gossip Girl. As a pseudo-intellectual, I would outwardly deny watching this show, as all pseudo-intellectuals agree that shows about the super rich super spoilt are only for girls who "gossip". But to be honest, who doesn't like it. Sure, its mindless, unrealistic, and people never wear purple lizard skin gloves but its kind of fun and everybody knows a Dan or a Blair (though in real life people are NOT named after salads. Or hotels.) And the fact that none of the characters are even remotely likeable just adds to the show. Its just basic human instinct, our ancestors clapped and screamed Veni Vidi Vici (or whatever! I don't know Latin) when the gladiators fought the lions and we smirk when one rich girl takes down the next. Its a depraved kind of fun, but what the hell. Judge me :) Its what blogging's all about (or atleast, that's what the salesman said).
Coming back to my blog, the Chuck Bass of the blogosphere, the good blog gone bad living in a rich decadent world of sin. Suddenly, the return of its blogger, after 2 long seasons, and return of order to its dark world. Can it be saved from itself?? *dramatic music, pause on face of blog in shock as it discovers new post from blogger*. And Cut. Watch the next episode to find out what happens, folks :)
Yes, its true. I've been ODing on TV serials. They're dangerous, addictive, EVIL. The only safe ones are the ones like The Simpsons because the episodes aren't related. Or funny ones like Two and a Half Men, in which the basic plotline remains constant for a season at a time. Even if you do miss an episode you catch on pretty quick (Oh! Alan got married again. Cool man, whatever.) And then there's Gossip Girl. As a pseudo-intellectual, I would outwardly deny watching this show, as all pseudo-intellectuals agree that shows about the super rich super spoilt are only for girls who "gossip". But to be honest, who doesn't like it. Sure, its mindless, unrealistic, and people never wear purple lizard skin gloves but its kind of fun and everybody knows a Dan or a Blair (though in real life people are NOT named after salads. Or hotels.) And the fact that none of the characters are even remotely likeable just adds to the show. Its just basic human instinct, our ancestors clapped and screamed Veni Vidi Vici (or whatever! I don't know Latin) when the gladiators fought the lions and we smirk when one rich girl takes down the next. Its a depraved kind of fun, but what the hell. Judge me :) Its what blogging's all about (or atleast, that's what the salesman said).
Coming back to my blog, the Chuck Bass of the blogosphere, the good blog gone bad living in a rich decadent world of sin. Suddenly, the return of its blogger, after 2 long seasons, and return of order to its dark world. Can it be saved from itself?? *dramatic music, pause on face of blog in shock as it discovers new post from blogger*. And Cut. Watch the next episode to find out what happens, folks :)
Friday, April 11, 2008
Level: Novice
So basically, I always wanted to blog. Maybe because the word blog reminds me of that little speech bubble in which cartoon characters think in (which fascinates me- its like seeing right into someone's head). But i never did down to actually posting anything in the millions of accounts (passwords long forgotten) that i've created. Or that no one ever comments on them (its sort of disheartening okay?!) . This time i decided, hey to hell with the world and its stupid non commenting citizens. I'm going to blog (ah the word is satisfying) for the sake of blogging.
I don't really have any strong convictions and stuff to blog about, and my life is not very interesting (no jail spells, swimming across the english channel etc). But lets see, the major thing in my life right now? Its gotta be a mix of friends of varying types, family, matters of the heart (how melodramatic! so yes, im kidding, sort of, not really) and the omnipresent studies (bleh). So I study in this jail-cum-college (so i do have a jail spell to boast about...hmmm) and its situated in the middle of nowhere so that its juvenile delinquent students can't go thieving and murdering. Well, i mean, which college in the whole of blessed Bangalore has a fingerprinting machine? Its just not normal. But if you're the report to the police types (there are all sorts in this world), then no, I haven't really done much crime (the occasional bank maybe?). However we're being prepared for the big bad JEE exams. Argh!! Yes. And so we're isolated in a village with syllables hard to string into a pronouncable word, in a college where the library contains only I.E Irodov (our guardian angel) and other maniacs of the D.C. Pandey kind.
I'll continue. dear reader (if one exists), about the strangeness of my college later. My Bathla and Sons beckons me to do Limits ( not really! but i'll have to get down to it someday). So if you did read this out of mindnumbing boredom, thank you! and Blog on!
I don't really have any strong convictions and stuff to blog about, and my life is not very interesting (no jail spells, swimming across the english channel etc). But lets see, the major thing in my life right now? Its gotta be a mix of friends of varying types, family, matters of the heart (how melodramatic! so yes, im kidding, sort of, not really) and the omnipresent studies (bleh). So I study in this jail-cum-college (so i do have a jail spell to boast about...hmmm) and its situated in the middle of nowhere so that its juvenile delinquent students can't go thieving and murdering. Well, i mean, which college in the whole of blessed Bangalore has a fingerprinting machine? Its just not normal. But if you're the report to the police types (there are all sorts in this world), then no, I haven't really done much crime (the occasional bank maybe?). However we're being prepared for the big bad JEE exams. Argh!! Yes. And so we're isolated in a village with syllables hard to string into a pronouncable word, in a college where the library contains only I.E Irodov (our guardian angel) and other maniacs of the D.C. Pandey kind.
I'll continue. dear reader (if one exists), about the strangeness of my college later. My Bathla and Sons beckons me to do Limits ( not really! but i'll have to get down to it someday). So if you did read this out of mindnumbing boredom, thank you! and Blog on!
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