Home Sweet Home Sour

I was home.
That is my excuse.
I know I was ‘planning’ on blogging daily.
But I went home.
I think it is a very excusable excuse.

I had to ‘renew’ my visa.
For those who do not know, I am an NRI (Non Resident Indian – for the ones who have always had trouble with abbreviations). Well I am not exactly an NRI because I am residing in India currently but technically I am not.
I was born and brought up in a country were being born and brought up in the country does not make you a citizen. That is pretty weird according to me.
I was in this country for 16 years of my life. This country is still what I ‘significantly’ refer to as home. And sometimes I feel foreign in both India AND this country. I guess that is what qualifies you as an NRI – feel foreign everywhere.

Well the point is not that.
The point is that the point is actually forgotten.

Let me try beginning again.
I have a residence visa of this country and had to have it renewed so that I can continue to be an NRI.
I took a ticket home.
I got a health check up done to rule out infection by a particular ‘notorious’ virus – which is apparently mandatory for a residence visa (I wonder why!).
I got a passport size photo taken.
I got my visa renewed.
I took a ticket back to India (which is also home, I guess).

So now after a week at home I have learnt that:
I am still an NRI residing in India – which is still confusing.
I am not infected – yet. (applause please)
I still have the skill to look like a stranger in my passport size photos.
Food is all I need to be happy.
I can gain the weight I lost in five years in five days.
People change.
Cities change faster than people.
And most importantly:
Home is sweet when you arrive and sour when you depart – still.

Next time I am home I’ll be a doctor – I think that is cool and more importantly… scary.

Face lift

If you have not noticed the obvious as yet – I have changed my blog template.
Please notice.
And now is when you will be filled with immense emotion at the thought provoking and breath taking template I have chosen for this enlightening, awesome and truly ineffable blog of mine.
(applause standing ovation please)
Thank you.

If you have failed to follow the basic steps of admiration described above – try again.
If you still fail – keep trying.
If you think this template is mediocre – do not comment.
If you think this template is breath-taking – do not leave without commenting else I will track you down and hack you to death!

Frankly, I think the template is not that splendid.
It is morose and I do not like my blog to look so gloomy.
But I love the rain and hence think it is appropriate.
Also there is just too much space on the right side. I keep wondering if something is going to pop up and surprise me – so far nothing has.
You have to agree it is better than the boring black template I had previously!

I spend quite a lot of time on this last night and hence was able to sit a night-out due to the guilt-trip associated with wasting time not slogging two days before an exam. Wish me luck for my exam tomorrow!

I happened to stumble upon this picture.
It brought back a lot of exhausting emotions against babies.
For those of you, who do not know my perspective as far as little human beings are concerned, please refer to my exclusive post on ‘Babies’.

All I could think of after seeing this picture was –
Nobody wants the irritating baby.

Dumb courage

I like the idea of blogging daily.
But not everything we like is likely to work out.
From my 22 years of life I have figured out that very few things that we like actually work out.
So I do not think I can blog daily – but I will try.
I have an important exam coming up on Monday.
I have started slogging but I do not think my usual 12 hour cramming routine will help this time – it is too late already.
Wish me luck!

This post is about fear, courage and intellect.
Most people consider fear a negative emotion.
It is drilled into minds of the youth that being fearless is rewarding.
I completely disagree.

So many people take things worth wondering about very lightly. They do not spend any time pondering about things that are waiting to be pondered about.
Fear is one among them.
I fear a lot of things in life – some worth fearing and some foolish.
I do not think being fearful is cowardly.
In fact, I am of the opinion that being fearless is plain dumb.

Fear is absolutely necessary for survival.
If I were fearless, I would be jumping off cliffs into roaring seas at the slightest excuse. The result of which is very obvious – death.
Fear is a feeling of impending doom and if it were not present we would be wiped out from this planet.

According to legend, there were plenty of such fearless sects in this world many of which we have read about in books and remained in complete awe of.
One among them would be the very popular Spartans.
Spartans claim to fame was their fearless nature – for those who have never heard of the Spartans, I strongly recommend reading Greek history or maybe even watching the movie 300 starring Gerard Butler (drool!). Even though the movie is a bit overdone on the ‘fearless’ bit I think Gerard Butler is totally worth watching it for!!
I am terribly sorry; my line of thought is fleeing from fearlessness into the strong arms of the sultry Gerard Butler (sigh!)
Well, the point is that Spartans died young.
It is sad but they did.
Their courage was their curse.
They almost always died young – the one thing to blame being their almost inhuman fearlessness.
I am sure most of you think living life to the fullest means you face your fears and come to terms with it.
But there certainly should be a limit.
A completely fearless person would unfortunately be dumb.

We fear so that we can survive.
We live in a big bad world and if we did not fear, survival would be out of the question. And courage is not something that should be completely awed.
A moron would be courageous because he would not think of the repercussions of his courageous actions! A fearless person, accept it or not, when risking his life, is momentarily acting against basic animal instinct – which is to survive. And hence he can very well be branded as being momentarily insane.
Courage is wonderful to read about.
Fearlessness is definitely inspiring.
But there is one thing that fearlessness and courage requires – that is the status of ‘nothing to lose’.
Unfortunately, life is something that is at stake.
So if you think life is worth putting at stake and that life is not something that will be ‘missed’ when lost, go ahead and be fearless.

I do not think we must live in fear of everything. If that was the case we would not live at all, but certain amount of fear is necessary to save our lives.
Being smart is being fearful at the right time and of the right things. By being smart you fear what you should fear and survive.
After all life is the ultimate sacrifice.

It would be awe-inspiring to hear someone say ‘I live life in the edge today because that way I would never regret not living my life to the fullest 20 years from now.’
But the question is if you live life on the edge today and just stumble over would you not regret not having a life to live 20 years from now?

I am not a coward.
I am not dumb either.
I fear. I live.

Emotional Sex

This is one of my recent conversations with somebody worth having a conversation with. Feel free to comment on the weird nature of my conversations.

Conversationalist: Hey!
Me: (indifferent voice) Hello.
C: (ignoring my indifference) Guess what?
Me: (very indifferent) I don’t know and I don’t care.
C: (unable to ignore my indifference any longer) What happened?
Me: (making things difficult for everybody) Nothing.
C: (playing it safe) Okay.
Me: (frustrated at my inability to make things difficult) Okay? Okay? Did you just say Okay? What is okay? (My voice is turning shrilly)
C: (confused) I don’t know. What do you want?
Me: (need to make things more difficult) YOU call ME up and ask ME what I want! As if you are ready to give me anything I want. You’re so full of shit.
C: (accepting defeat) No, really. What is it that you want?
Me: (marginally satisfied) I don’t really know.
C: (trying to sound comforting) What happened?
Me: (satisfied) Nothing. I am just feeling horrible. I wish I could just cry and cry till my tears ran out.
C: (utterly confused) Why?
Me: (likes the attention) I just want to get rid of this multitude of emotions within me. I need to get rid of it all. I just want to weep my heart out.
C: (tinge of fear) Are you okay? Do you need help?
Me: (anger rising) WTF?!
C: (foot in mouth) I mean do you need my help.
Me: (satisfied) Yes and that is why I am talking to you!
C: (happy with his presence of mind) Okay. So you want to cry?
Me: (can’t make it so easy) No. You are not even listening to me.
C: (confused) Huh? I thought you told me you want to weep till your tears ran out!
Me: (improvising) Not exactly. I just need to vent my emotions. I think even laughing would help. I wish I could laugh till I grew breathless and my cheeks hurt. I wish I could laugh so hard I have tears streaming down my face.
C: (wants to kill himself) So basically you just want tears?
Me: (decides to act as if I did not hear that!) WHAT?
C: (foot in mouth) Nothing. I have the perfect solution for you!
Me: (baffled) You do?!
C: (proudly) I sure as hell do!
Me: (confused. This is new!) Did you become a genius in a minute? How can you know what I want? Even I don’t know what I want!
C: (incomprehensible tone) You need sex. Screw you!
BEEP.

He hung up.
It took me a minute to realise and come to terms with it.
He hung up telling me to go have sex.

I think it is a very enlightening conversation.

I deserve this – I am loving it!

Nobody speaking Really

A lot of people all around the world are realists.
I am one among the aforementioned.
I like to believe the above statement.
But believing is not being.
So to be a realist I must ponder over it – like a realist – and that is exactly what this is.

I just watched ‘Roman holiday’ again.
I like love stories that end the way this does.
My friends think I am depressing for the very same reason. Some think I’m a sadist. I am not depressing, maybe a little sadistic but definitely not depressing.
I feel I am being a realist.

Did you know there is a word ‘Realistically’?
Somehow the word seems very weird to me.
A realist is supposed to perceive things as they are – as in, they perceive things in their real form. I was of the idea that the adverb form describing the way realists perceive things would be ‘Really’. But then when I started typing out this post and the word that got typed out by my much smarter subconscious mind was ‘Realistically’.

Now ‘Realistically’ is quite different from ‘Really’ – according to the awesome dictionary in my head which always comes up with meanings much more comprehensible (for me) than any dictionary I have referred to till date.
‘Really’ is real – the facts as it is, the true form of everything, the ultimate raw deal. There is nothing to do with the thinking brain as far as this word is concerned.
‘Realistically’ is not raw – as a matter of fact it is the exact opposite of raw. It is something that has been thought over and over about. It is like rational, logical and practical and all the horrible words people use to make people do what they do not want to do.

I do not like ‘Realistically’.
In fact, I hate ‘Realistically’.
I like ‘Really’.
What I want to be is a person who speaks ‘Really’ and not ‘Realistically’.
But nobody speaks ‘Really’.
And that makes me nobody.
But I believe speaking ‘Really’ is worth being nobody for because I would rather be a nobody who speaks ‘Really’ than a somebody who speaks ‘Realistically’.
Somebody in the above statement refers to Realists.

And hence I have come to terms with my opinion of realists.
I do not want to be one of them.
I almost hate them.
I would rather be nobody than be them.
They are just a group of pessimists with a really bad excuse.

So much for believing I was a realist about 5 minutes ago.

Inscrutable ambiguities

There are things I can’t figure out no matter how hard I try.
These are called the inscrutable ambiguities of my life.
This post is about them.

I figured I have bored my loyal followers on the road to enlightenment enough with depressing, miserable hopeless posts. If I try a teeny-weeny little more I think I can push everyone of you to commit suicide. And then I would have no followers.
I do not want that.
So here goes.

1) In a class of about 200 students a Senior Professor of Medicine cracks a ‘joke’ which makes you want to murder him for the crime of brutally killing humour. And to your utter horror, friends who used to pass snide remarks at bad jokes a year back are roaring with laughter. And you wonder if you didn’t really get the joke. But then you realize they are just buttering up his ass royally to lick it later – leisurely. What I do not understand is do they actually think he is going to note that they didn’t laugh at his bad joke? Do they actually want the poor professor to live in the illusion that he has cracked a good joke – just to embarrass himself somewhere else in front of someone else? Do they actually think laughing at his jokes will help them pass their exams? My limited intellect fails to answer these questions. You are welcome to help me.

2) We had a beach party recently – for the graduating batch. The male gender was dressed like they were going fishing – shorts, T-shirts, flip flops and the sort. The female gender was dressed for a homecoming – dresses, make up, stilettos and the sort. So here we were, a batch of 250 students who have been seeing each other for at least 4 years now, looking like we came from two different planets. What is it about the same species of animal that make them behave so distinctly different? Is it because guys want to have a nice time without bothering about how they look while girls are too vain about how they look? Or is it because guys don’t really have to look good to impress girls while girls have to look a perfect ten for a guy to even consider her worthy of a glance? And who were we trying to impress after 4 years anyway?!

3) What is it with rock and people in the age group of 15-30? Is it some sort of a switch that goes on when you become an adolescent? Is it the lyrics? Or does just the music and living it make life easier for people who have most on their minds? Does rock really help? I never listened to rock until I was 12, until I had my first crush! I still love rock and I still have insane troubles in my life. I guess I'll move on to Enya or Yanni when I’m around 35. Most people I know have a similar story to tell. I think it is the lyrics but I need confirmation. So if you think you can tell me for sure the reason please do let me know because at least then, the day my children (God forbid I have any) start listening to rock I will know for sure they are living their colourful lives to the fullest.

4) This is the ultimate inscrutable ambiguity of all inscrutable ambiguities – why do I bother? Why do I wonder about these minute details which nobody else even notices? Why do I spend time pondering about the most insignificant of things? Is it because I am jobless? But I am not really jobless. I have lots work in pending. Is it because I don’t want to do the work I have in pending and enjoy thinking about nothing at all? I know most of you might not be able to answer this and help me out here. And hence this the most inscrutable ambiguity of them all.

That is all for now – this post was not meant to make you laugh. It was just meant to save you from the terrible throes of sorrow and suicidal thoughts. It is food for thought…or thought for food (whatever!)

It is just another cranky insane post.

Glimpse of reality

We make decisions all the time.
Some decisions change our life completely.
Some decisions don’t change anything.
Sometimes those decisions that change our lives completely couldn’t be more wrong.
Everything goes wrong thanks to one moment of stupid insanity.
Everything you stood for, everything you are, your whole world just crumbles in front of your eyes.

Some people make your life.
Some people leave memories in your life.
Some people are your life.
Sometimes your choice of people couldn’t be more incorrect.
And even though you know fully well what you are doing can hurt you in the long run, you do it anyway because at that moment nothing else really matters.
One fine day when you are alone it matters.
Life seems like it is a farce.
None of the people who mean more than your life to you will matter.

In the end it is just you.
Everyone runs away from a burning house.
You don’t have anyone – not even those who you lived for, those who were your very first priority, those who meant everything in the world to you.
You only have yourself.
And if you hate yourself you don’t even have that.

Sometimes being invisible is the only solution – disappearing from everything, leaving everyone behind and just floating away to somewhere called nowhere.

Time heals everything.
The mind is like any other part of the human body (not bone though) – it heals but with scarring. The wound is always there if you look closely, healed but not the same as before.

I have always given love no more thought than it deserves.
I have always and still think it is an illusion.
But trust… it kills.
What I don’t understand is how it is humanly possible to forgive millions of times and still continue to trust.
Does that make a person foolish?
Or does that make the person gullible?
Or does it make the person immature?
Or does it make the person a pushover?
Or does it just mean the person does not know the unwritten brutal rules of “love”?

My life is like that of any other normal girl my age.
I just tend to think a lot – even though I try so much not to.

Sometimes you make the same wrong decision so many times you just don’t realize you have another choice. That maybe you could make life better for yourself.
Sometimes you just don’t realize what is best is to be happy and not miserable.
Sometimes different people do the same horrible things to you and you start believing that maybe the fault is yours rather than that of all the different people around you.

No one is going to be there in the end.
You go alone.
If you want to sacrifice your life or go through pain for someone let it be for your parents because they are the only ones who will not let you do it even though they deserve it.

In the end it is just you.
You have to live with yourself.
Live with yourself even if you don’t like who you have become.
Live with yourself even if you don’t like what you have become.

Dedicated to that someone out there just to let you know you are not alone in this.

Yellow bulb

Imagine this.

2:30 am - All lights are out in this particular hostel room except for one frustrating flickering yellow bulb. A Surgery textbook is open and the chapter ‘Breast’ waiting anxiously to be devoured. A 22 year old female is sitting on her bed wondering what exactly she is supposed to be doing.
She does not want to read Breast because she does not really find it appealing at this very moment. According to ‘somebody’ she should be blogging because she finally might have the ability to create a masterpiece today (her breath-taking ‘blah blah’ skills seem to have finally impressed). The only setback, unfortunately, is her mind which is currently a squeaky clean slate – cleaner than any slate that has ever been called a clean slate.

I am not afraid of the dark but I get this feeling that somebody is watching me when I am alone, especially at night. It has been there since I was a little girl. In the beginning I used to be certain there was somebody watching. I have even tried catching the culprit red handed. But then, as years went by, I have decided not to care.
If nobody is watching me – Great! I knew I was paranoid anyway.
If somebody is watching me – Great! Enjoy – Whatever is your cup of tea!

The flickering yellow bulb is not frustrating me anymore.
It actually makes the room look very dramatic – like something out of a thriller movie in the 80s. I am waiting desperately for the thrill to arrive in all its splendour.
Just like in the movies when the background music stops, the shot is taken from behind the actor, you know something is about to happen, you can feel the hair rise at the back of your neck, a much awaited chill runs down your spine and you can feel the cold sweat in your palms with your fingers clasped tightly into fists. BOOM!

No BOOM.
No chill down anyone’s spine.
No cold sweat.
No fists.

It is still just me, the chapter on Breast, the flickering yellow bulb and my squeaky clean slate for a mind.

I wish I had more time to actually enjoy the beauty of the world around me more. Most of the time I am so engrossed in the implications and repercussions of something that might not have any implications or repercussions that I fail to fathom the sheer beauty of it that may very well be staring straight at me.

Take for example this yellow bulb.
These are the thoughts that I have had about this bulb:
Why is this bulb flickering?
Is there a loose contact?
Should I try fixing it?
Should I switch it off first?
Will my hands start sweating?
Will I get electrocuted?
Should I wear rubber slippers?
What if nobody finds me after I get electrocuted?
Should I just switch it off and go to sleep?
Why is it so yellow?
Is yellow light really bad for my eyesight?

I wish I could just stare at this flickering yellow bulb and not think of anything even minutely disturbing. I wish I could just look at it and appreciate the beauty it has. The beauty I can appreciate if I put my mind at rest.
Right now I know I can at least try and succeed in putting my mind at rest and appreciating the beauty of things.
What scares me is tomorrow.
Tomorrow, being the day when I see no beauty in anything.
Tomorrow – the day when all that I can see will be disturbing facts and figures; implications and repercussions

This is the biggest flaw of a complex mind.
The wondrous wonder that God created – the human mind.
It is too complex to appreciate simple things without interference.

The yellow bulb just died.

Get a life!

More than six bloody long months since I blogged last.
I disconnected my internet connection as a part of my ‘final year slogging’ routine.
Last night I decided I’d continue blogging and post them later on – ‘later on’ being when I get over this phase of my life which could, quite appropriately, be called ‘living hell’.

Past six months in brief:
It is my last year in college and day after day I am becoming more aware of how the past four and half years in medical school have been such a waste because I seem to not know anything about anything. My ignorance scares me – in addition to scaring my professors, my family and my future patients.
College sucks.
Lovelife was, is and (to my absolute relief) will remain as Rembrandts very aptly put it in the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. theme song ‘dead on arrival’.
Birthday was spent as a glutton.
Depression is rampant.
Bickering is infinite.
Sleep is the only solution – which is scarce, thanks to being an insomniac.
Life, basically, has come to a standstill.

Past six months – not worth blogging about.

My imagination, however, has not let me down.
Very often I think of many things to blog about.
Don’t seem to remember any now.

What I would really like right now would be to ‘get a life’.
It is a phrase that is so often used amongst the ‘cool dudes’ as a derogatory comment towards ‘losers’ that until recently I didn’t really think about what it meant.
Now why would you tell somebody to ‘get a life’?
Obviously it is sort of a piece of advice.
Get a life because you don’t have one and badly need one or maybe because you don’t have a functional or satisfactory ‘life’.
It would be similar to telling someone to get a laptop instead of a PC or to get a microwave instead of an oven or to get a room instead of…
On second thought cancel off the last example – it is inappropriate.

So I need to get a life.
Not that I don’t have one already.
I do have a really slow and a constantly malfunctioning life which obviously needs to be either replaced or renewed.
Replacement is my only option because, frankly, I do not believe in recycled material. No matter what you environmentalists think, recycled material is second hand material.
And I like first hand.
Second hand is unbearable even if it was ‘first handed’ by me (weird thought).
So it is a complete no to recycling this existing life.
I should get rid of it and then get a new one.
Now the question is whether I should get rid of this life before getting a new one or should I try out the new one and make sure it is properly functioning before getting rid of this life.
The logical option would be the latter.

So currently my plan is to think of ways in which I should get rid of this life I have while looking out for a new one.
Meanwhile you people can fill me in on where I can get to shop for cool lives – be warned I like it when I have a lot to choose from.

P.S.: Sorry folks, I have just realised that I have completely lost my marbles.

Blood red, Red blood

I am not a person anyone would call not nasty.
I am also not a person anyone would dare call nasty.
This maybe because either people are too terrified to call me nasty imagining the nasty things I might do to them if I find out what they called me or maybe because I am a neutral person – not too nasty but still sort of nasty all the same.
I like to think the latter is true, even though I like the idea of people being terrified of me.

Whatever you have read till now in this post is pure bullshit.
It has no relevance.
Now read on for the bullshit that I don’t think is bullshit.

I am not a hypocrite.
I am not a coward.
I was always sure about the certainty of the above mentioned two statements – until recently when a casual conversation during lunch made me think twice.
This has disturbed me, terribly.

I am a non vegetarian.
I like vegetables.
I love fruits of all sorts.
But basically I am a non vegetarian.

I have never considered myself to be an activist against cruelty toward animals.
I have never been particularly nasty towards animals as such – I think I am nastier towards babies than animals.
A few days back my unit mates decided to take a break from our anguishing lives and have lunch together.
It was a disturbingly enlightening lunch.
For one, I confirmed the fact that I love clear soup way more than any other sort of soup.
My unit mates realised my stomach’s enormous capacity (blush)
I figured out I can talk against cruelty towards animals while eating chicken and still sound reasonable – I think that is quite a talent.

My unit mates wanted to go fishing – fishing for fish.
I thought it pretty cool until they mentioned about hunting.
And then I clearly remember me asking an extremely dumb question (which does not occur too often) – I asked whether they actually killed animals during hunting.
I wonder why I asked that.
It is clearly one of those dumb blonde questions.
The last thing I want is to transform into one of those.
Maybe I asked the dumb blonde question because I was planning on joining my unit mates for their venture and the thought of me having to kill animals seemed pretty difficult to carry out.
I guess I was just confirming their barbarism.

I do not mind eating what is served on my plate.
But when it comes to having their blood on my hands, when it comes to actually taking away their lives – I think that is crossing a thin line somewhere.

One of my unit mates went on about how deer are awesome catches and how their eyes look awfully innocent as they take their last breath.
This is what I refer to as pure brutality – killing for entertainment.
I think talking about killing an animal and then about how wonderful it looks makes you very little different from a serial killer.
Of course my unit mates do consider me a hypocrite – eating chicken and talking about how horrible it is to kill animals.
The point is I did not kill any of them – it might not make much of a difference to you, but it definitely does to me because I do not have blood on my hands.

And then came the topic about how there are hundreds of people out there getting their hands bloody just for me to eat what I eat.
Well the point is I never asked them to kill and maybe if they stopped I would stop eating meat too – I think.
This makes me a coward.
It makes me a coward who wants others to get their hands dirty to satisfy my needs.

I realised I could never take life out of any living being – if that makes me a coward and a hypocrite I guess I will have to live with it.

I thought I would find it difficult to eat chicken after the disturbing conversation.
But I am fine – still a non vegetarian.

The point is my hands are still not bloody.

Jinxed

AAARRRGGGHHHH!!!!

Have you ever felt like you have been jinxed?
If you have I think you will understand the first line of this post.

The past one month has been the most ‘unhappening’ month of my life.

1) I get posted in a creepy unit.
But I dealt with it.
I mean it was pretty nice towards the end.
It was like a challenge trying to piss them off but not piss them off.
I liked it – especially the last week.

2) Interclass happened.
Last year I could not participate in anything thanks to me being in the stupid “Students’ council” – which ruined my life.
I was hell bent on putting my head into every damn competition this year.
But alas! I’m jinxed!
I am not a sour loser – but there is a limit to which I can accept that I suck!
Not a single prize so far.
Even the teams that I have cheered for are ending up as losers.
I am like the ‘bad luck charm’.

3) Home plans
I decided to go home since there is no point in me declaring myself the biggest loser of all time in college.
But obviously – it can’t work out either, can it?!
My sister has medicine posting and my mother thinks I will burn down the house if I stay home alone.
End of home plans.

3) Blog dumps
I have not had one of those blogging sprees in a long time when I post three to four posts a day.
Not that I have not had ideas to post on.
Today I decide I am going to sit and type it all out and quite as I expected, my internet connection conks off. So I type it all out and save it for posting later – which is God alone knows when!

And how could I forget, half my laundry went missing last week.
Every salwar kameez has either the salwar or the kameez missing.
I am running out of ideas to mix and match.
I broke two pairs of sandals in the past week.
I have a strong feeling I am going to break a bone soon.

My life officially sucks!

I have a feeling it is going to get worse.
Probably I am going to hit a dump in academics too.

Bring it on!!!

Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn!
(Always wanted to use this dialogue somewhere – those of you who think it is not befitting the situation can please go and shoot themselves!)

P.S.: To all my followers (especially the new ones) – you guys are the tiny specks of dust reflecting miniscule rays of sunshine in this utter darkness I find myself lost in.
Thank you for nothing.
Don’t you dare stop following me!
I’ll hunt you down and blow your brains out.
I still have my bazooka.

Sorry, I have lost it.
I will post more nonsense soon.

Unnecessary necessities

I had started out this post before the previous one.
But something came up.
I tried typing out this enlightening idea a couple of times.
But something kept coming up.
Today my mother asked me why I don’t blog so often anymore – I think that is a definite indication that it is high time I finished posting this.

Since this thought came to me weeks ago I am not sure whether I can put it across as horribly as I usually do – so pardon me if I am too clear.

I think Plato was a wise guy.
I know most of you think the same about Plato.
The only difference being I actually thought about whether he is wise or not whereas most of you take it for granted that he was a wise guy.

‘Necessity is the mother of invention’
This was what led me to the conclusion that Plato was indeed a wise guy.
The first time I heard this quote it came along with a story – I do not have any idea how true this story is but now I do know its significance.
The story was about how a student of the philosopher who does not know how to swim is taught that necessity is indeed the mother of invention by trying to drown him.
When I heard it for the first time I thought it was pretty stupid to carry out such an extreme act just to teach a student the truth behind some nonsensical quote.
One week back somehow I got to think about it after a long time and enlightenment dawned – yet again.

Nothing is as much a necessity as survival.
The only true necessity every human has is to make sure he stays alive.
And when survival is put to question the human mind takes on challenges and overcomes impossible obstacles.

If the philosopher tried teaching the student the truth behind the quote by drowning his friend instead and expecting him to try and swim to save his friend, the student might not have risked his life for his friend.
Hence no invention would have been made due to the mere lack of necessity.

The ultimate necessity which drives us, one step at a time, is the simple desire for survival.

I may very well invent something or complete tasks never accomplished by myself in the past for sheer entertainment or for helping out somebody I care for. But the truth remains that the effort put in for the same task would be definitely lesser than the effort put in if it was my survival in question – if it was a do or die situation for me.

In the end, it all comes down to simple facts.
The fact remains that we can deal with life without luxuries.
The fact remains that we do not try hard enough for anything unless our ass is on the line.
The fact remains that we can deal with any dire circumstance or loss, we can afford to experience pain but we can never entertain the idea of not giving our best shot before accepting death.

Humans, we will always remain the same.
- Selfish for survival.

Nothing drives us better than the fear of death.

Lovey-dovey gobbledygook

I cannot believe I actually missed posting on Valentine’s.
Nothing gives me more pleasure than enlightening people on the grossly over rated feeling of undying love and I let ‘the day’ pass by without even thinking about posting once, all credit to my awfully boring yet busy life.

So I am going to post on it now.

For those of you ‘Valentines’ out there who have no sense as to the nonsense behind the February 14th, this blog takes great pride in enlightening you with the fact that you celebrate by coochie-cooing shamelessly the death of disillusioned young martyrs
– For further details ask the all knowing google or you can also resort to wikipedia (where you get to read what smart people want you to read).
If you think I actually went through the trouble of researching on the history of Valentine’s Day for the sheer pleasure of enlightening you with its insignificance – you are mistaken because I have not become so jobless (as yet!)

Frankly, I have nothing at all against Valentine’s – personally.
I have celebrated quite a few – I have had my share of memorable ‘moments’ with bright red wrapping paper, red roses, boxes of chocolates, midnight calls…
I am not sour.
I just think it is immature.

I know of people who think it is immature only because they are single.
I do not belong to that group.
I know of people who think it is immature because they are lazy to go buy gifts.
I do not belong to that group.
I know of people who think it is immature because they are awfully jealous of the awesome expensive gifts their friends have received and they have not.
I do not belong to that group.

I think it is immature because I actually think it is immature, not because I am sour.
Personally, I think it should be celebrated by kids – such immature crap is very typical of them (if you are unaware of my feelings towards miniature human beings kindly read my post on Babies)

Valentine’s is pretty much like Friendship Day or Mothers’ Day or Fathers’ Day – not only do I almost always forget it, I honestly think it is pointless remembering it.
You ought to value friendship everyday of your life – tying a stupid ugly band around your wrist is not going to strengthen any bond.
As far as Mothers’ and Fathers’ Days are concerned – children walk all over their parents every day of the year, one more day of it is not going to make much of a difference. If anything they will laugh at your sudden change in character if you don’t walk all over them.
The last thing I want to hear is my mother asking me whether I am feeling okay when I tell her I love her on Mothers’ day.

So here we have a couple Mr A and Ms B.
All they do is fight – which is quite ordinary for any couple.
At midnight Ms B starts crying and making a big fuss about Mr A not calling her up to wish her at the stroke of midnight. After a couple of hours of struggling not to mention about Mr A’s affair with hot and sexy Ms C, Mr A finally manages to get Ms B to give him a break (because after all it is Valentine’s)
And then comes the complaining about how the gifts were a disappointment, how dinners were missed, how dates were not kept, how the first Valentine’s was so different from how it is now, how things have changed, how everything is a humongous disappointment only because some fool somewhere decided February 14th was supposed to be dedicated completely to the person you have disillusioned yourself into believing you love.

Valentine’s is just an opportunity for:
- females to make a fuss
- cowards to propose
- single losers to feel lonely
- rich people to throw around money
- others to save money for gifts that go down the drain few years down the lane
- communication networks and greeting card companies to make a lot of money
- And the rest of the world to drown in the illusion of love.

I think it is immature.

If you believe you love someone, drown in the feeling everyday – you really do not need Valentine’s.
If you are not currently under the delusion of love – thank god.

History mystery

“In 90% of cases a correct diagnosis can be made with the help of a well elicited history alone”.

Two words – that is all I have to say as a response to this overtly over used statement in Medicine.
You can use your imagination to figure what those two words might be.

Almost a month since my Medicine posting began and I have learnt that histories elicited always has loop holes – always! No matter how many times you go over it and think of the wildest questions to ask, the history is never ‘well elicited’ – which I think is precisely why histories don’t really diagnose 90% of cases.

For my first case discussion I had a patient who clearly explained to me about how he came to the hospital with cough and nothing else. But apparently he came in so breathless he was blue. I asked a hundred times (and I am not exaggerating) about whether he had breathlessness – the answer was always ‘No’.
But on the day of my case presentation when the doctor badgered him about whether he had breathlessness the ‘easily manipulated’ patient completely agreed on having breathlessness which left me with a history worth zilch.

Incorrect history with chief complaint gone wrong – when you have this on your hands it is quite specifically the right time to commit suicide.

For my second case discussion my history was ‘incomplete’ because I did not elicit the history of the exact pattern of ‘waxing and waning’ of the fever the patient had when he was admitted nine months ago. I was apparently supposed to get the day to day, hour to hour history of the fever he suffered from nine months ago. I really do not understand how the patient is supposed to remember such useless (to him) details about his fever when me, being a doctor, cannot remember when I had my last bout of the flu.

Incomplete history leading to inability in reaching a diagnosis only because of the incompetence of the doctor eliciting the history – if you have already committed suicide, do it again.

My third case discussion was a classic. I got a patient who has been suffering from jaundice for the past 30 years and a hernia for 15 years. He had a good memory. My history had everything in it – everything to the point I even mentioned (how, when and why) he scratched his butt every single time he did.
Apparently my history was ‘irrelevant’.
The line between ‘irrelevance’ and ‘incomplete’ is so thin that it really does not exist. It exists only for doctors who are hell bent on giving you a hard time in posting.

Irrelevant history that deviates attention of the doctor from the real complain leading to incorrect treatment modalities – if you have already committed suicide twice, do it yet again.

My fourth case discussion is yet to come, Parkinsonism – in a week's time.
I have faced the consequences of eliciting an incorrect history, incomplete history and irrelevant history.

I honestly wonder what it is going to be this time.
Frankly, I don’t really give a damn.

Mind your Mind

Today – bad day.

But I think I am actually getting used to it.
Days are so bad nowadays that even though the next day is worse I don’t seem to actually notice or compare.
The only thing that would really surprise me is if a ‘good day’ came along out of nowhere – wishful thinking.
The idea of a ‘good day’ sounds ridiculous.

"Stop the bickering, you fool" – Didn’t I just take those words right out of the tip of your tongue?! I am a mind reader too now - 'awesomeness unlimited'.
I have noticed that my blog has two new followers.
I think it is coincidental how my blog attracts followers when it is least active and wards off followers when I actually post daily.
I don’t believe in coincidence – so I think it is the lack of posts that attracts followers.
That would be pretty dumb.
But then, people are dumb.
I am glad I have new followers – end of story.

I am going to keep posting – you can’t bribe me out of it!

I have noticed how unenlightening my blog has become – depressing!
Now this is not because I have not been having any enlightening thoughts of late – on the contrary, I have been having plenty.

A week back I was forced to imagine my mind – as a result of someone telling me to mind my mind.
Those of you who have been regular followers would know minding my mind is nothing short of an ‘impossible’ task.
This, precisely, makes quotes such as ‘nothing is Impossible’ and ‘Impossible is a word in the dictionary of fools’ gibberish as far as I am concerned.
Because:
- Minding my mind is impossible
- Minding my mind is not ‘nothing’
- I am not a fool.
So I was imagining my mind.
Scientifically, I think, nobody has been able to localize any particular part of the human brain to be the ‘mind’.
The mind is not the brain.
In my opinion, it is like the soul-body relationship.
A relationship in which the brain plays the role of the body in which the mind is the soul – making 'the mind' something we want to believe in even without seeing it.
That is where the teeny-weeny problem comes in.
My imagination does not like things that cannot be visually linked.
Hence I came up with this image for the mind.

Now this image is pretty childish – it is definitely not scientific and I don’t want it to be philosophical.
It is simple – that is all that I am concerned about.
The simplicity is what impresses me – because I think the more complex things are, the more farther from truth they are.

My mind is like a series of doors.
One door leads to the next.
I am unaware of how many doors there actually are.
A stranger is not let in even through the first door.
But an acquaintance might find his/her way to the second door.
Each door opens into a little information about me.
Every friend opens a couple of doors and either stays put or moves further on.
As they move further, they get to learn more and more about my mind, along with me.
No matter how far I let people go there is still a long way till we reach the last door.
All I know about myself is the information that I have from letting people reach the point they have. I know nothing about the information I shall receive at that door which I have not let anyone open yet.
The farther I let people in, the more I will know about myself and my mind.

The only way you can learn about your mind is by letting people into it.

What I am trying to figure out now is what lies beyond the last door?
Eternal happiness, peace, bliss, heaven, redemption – all sound nothing short of hypocritical and unreal to me.

I have a feeling what lies beyond the last door is purer than all of the above mentioned
– It is insanity.

The day the dam broke

I hate final year.
I knew I would not like it.
I knew I might hate it.
But now – it is different.
I know I hate final year.

It has been about ten days since final year has begun – feels like forever though. Final year has provided the following to me in ten days:
1) Free electroconvulsive therapy for my hair to make sure it permanently stays at a strict perpendicular angle to my scalp.
2) Dark circle enhancer to make sure my eyes look like they are disappearing into monstrous black holes.
3) A hunch (thanks to my college bag which contains the ‘essentials of Clinical Medicine’) that would have made Quasimodo look like Prince Charming next to me.
4) A mask like face that would put any patient suffering from Parkinsonism to shame.
5) A mind that is so disoriented that I take more than 30 seconds to respond to a question asking me my name (because I am too busy trying to figure out the ‘medical significance’)
6) All this in addition to the 7:30 am to 8:30 pm schedule after which we are supposed to read every possible book of Medicine and become enlightened overnight.

The day I landed here I was welcomed with the marvellous news of my being posted in Medicine under a Professor who is pretty famous for his ways.
I did not think much of it at the time.

For a person with an imagination as wild as mine I express very little in public. I have always kept my emotions in check – maybe that energy is what is transformed in the form of my wild imaginative skills. As of now, my imagination is on vacation.

Each unit have six people posted. Three out of six have already broken their dams – me being one among them. I hate admitting that I shed tears because I know for a fact that this will only result in satisfaction, if not sheer delight, from the people I am posted under. I do not understand if it is their sadistic nature, frustrated lives or blown up egos that infuriates me the most – all I know, as of now, is that rage is very closely associated with the colour red. Red is the only colour I see when I look at their faces.

It might do me good down the lane. The torture might result in me trying harder – but there is only so much a human can tolerate. I am fast approaching the limit. One of my unit mates has already gone into severe depression and almost had a breakdown a few days back. I wonder when my turn will arrive.

But one thing is for sure – I sure as hell will not let it show to them. I will not knowingly satisfy their sadistic whims. It is going to take them more effort to make my dam break again.

I miss blogging.

If anyone out there had a doubt if I were crazy, I assure them – I definitely am crazy now.

Now who is laughing?!

It is me!
This post is to let all my dedicated followers and comrades on the path to enlightenment know that I have had the last laugh.
I – referring to me – the Enlightened one.

I have received my next award!!
(Everyone is requested to applaud at this point. You also have permission to give me a standing ovation. It would be even better if you would get up on your chair and affirm with utmost sincerity my sheer awesomeness.)

Thank you. Thank you.

Now for my acceptance speech:
*drum roll*
This award is dedicated to the fool who stopped following my blog. You are lucky I don’t remember who you are. I sincerely hope you are enjoying rotting in hell. And if you have not noticed, I have 13 followers - again! So no one really misses you.
Ahem!
Thank you once again, I couldn’t have done it without you!

It is called the ‘Brilliante Weblog Premio Awards 2008’ – pretty brilliant name.
And for those of you who can’t wait to get a look at it:



Now I have to nominate seven people who are worthy of this splendid award.

1) Arjun: I don’t know if you have received this award already because I am sure you win quite a few. This is my gift to you.

2) Tys on ice: For making complex issues seem simple at hard times, you deserve way better than this.

3) Sandeep Balan: Again – In the hope of him finishing his ‘Blonde’ story.

4) Keyzer Soze: Again – In the hope he will keep posting and not give up on the blogosphere.

5) Genesis of Oblivion: Again – In the hope of him accepting my first award!

6) Kapila: As an aid for her to believe in herself and realize she is truly brilliant.

7) Another blogger: She is awesome - Can I award myself again?

Well with that we come to the end of yet another truly enlightening, marvelous post by yours truly…

P.S.: For the visually impaired blog readers – there is a poll being conducted in this blog. You are requested to kindly vote so that your voting rights are not withdrawn.
The last I checked there was just ONE vote – very disappointing.

My name is Buffoon

As I have already mentioned in my post ‘Username’ my name is pretty unique (strange, weird, funny).
I do not complain.

For the fools out there, no my name is not Buffoon.
For the Buffoons out there, no you do not share your name with me.

I recently stumbled upon this site dedicated to the science of Numerology.
The site not only defined you based on a number derived from weird mathematical functions applied to the alphabets in your name and your date of birth but also gave a list of lucky numbers for the day.
I wonder what I am supposed to do with my set of lucky numbers:
- write so many posts?
- cut off my toes/ grow more to match my lucky number?
- repeat it continuously like a chant?
- wear the same number of garments?
- get the same number of piercings?
- get married to a person chanting the same number?
- get married as many times as my lucky number?
- get the combo meal from McDonalds with the same number to avoid indigestion?

An additional feature also compared my Numerology results to those of celebrities.
Wow!
Is that not wonderful?
And I cannot begin to explain how special I feel to be just like Sir Elton John.
I wonder if they took into account his ‘Sir’ for the Numerology.
I wonder if my celebrity will change if I add my ‘Dr.’ prefix which will soon be attained.
I don’t want to try – Elton John is so much more comforting than the many beasts out there in the celebrity world.
So what if he is gay, he is talented and knighted!

And then I began to wonder what if they had Bollywood celebrities on the site.
But then since almost all of them ‘change’ their names to unpronounceable jumble of letters which bear a slight resemblance to their original names, thanks to numerology, I guess all of them have the same set of lucky numbers.
The lucky numbers won’t be of much help then, would it?
The luck is supposed to help with competition, but if all the competitors have the same numerological character and lucky numbers they would not be so lucky after all.

And then my wild imagination came alive – very fatal.
It made me wonder what my numerological character would be if my name was Buffoon born on the 29th of February 2009 (for those of you who have a negative I.Q. I would like to remind you that 2009 is not a leap year and hence will not have a 29th of February)
And my Name number (which is supposed to relate to how I express myself in the many experiences of my life) and my Personality number (which is supposed to relate to my outlook on personal relationships, career opportunities etc) is 1 – meaning I am a born leader.
I might be a little weird – but I think this is pretty lame.
Buffoon – the born leader.
Tell you what, why don’t you name your child Buffoon and we shall see if this actually works out.
Do we have a deal?

Free! Free! Free!

Bullshit!
Nothing comes for free in this world.
You think not?
Well, think again – if you have trouble thinking, I shall help!

Humans are selfish creatures – I hope all of you know that by now.
Even when a person is performing a ‘selfless’ act he is almost always thinking about the recognition, gratitude and mostly the peace of mind he will receive from doing the ‘selfless’ act – courtesy Joey (F.R.I.E.N.D.S)
Now if you think Joey is not the ‘smartest’ person around to quote in this regard – we need to meet in person and you better come ready to be shot by a bazooka!!! (Oh! I love it).
Hence there is no selfless act.
Humans are selfish.
There is nothing free in this world because no one wants to give you anything without a little bit of something for himself.

Let us go through the ages chronologically and the various ‘free’ things we receive:

Birth: We are born into this horrible world at the price of dealing with terribly cold temperature of 25oC as opposed to the nice warm 37oC of the womb to satisfy the wants of two strangers who want a little stupid toy to play with – since they are sick of playing with each other.

0-5years: The so called selfless love of parents comes with the humongous responsibility of making them happy. The horrible guilt of depressing them if we do not live up to their expectations because they love us so much!
School is even worse – not only do we have to pay fees but also pretend to listen and understand what they try so hard to teach us.

5-10years: School is horrible as usual. It is definitely not free. Friendships take more from you than give, in terms of ‘sharing’ toys and other gizmos which you could have all for yourself if not for the so called friends.

10-15years: As far as boyfriends/girlfriends are concerned we all know they are all but free! Dating bills, gifts, rising phone bills plus heartache, headache and ear ache.
Friends become more synonymous to back stabbers. And the few good friends that few ‘lucky’ ones seem to have drink off your wallet – always.

15-20years: Nothing much changes from high school days except for the ‘friends circle’ increasing in size in proportion to the size of your wallet. And the heartaches keep getting worse if you have not learnt your lesson and stayed off relationships.

20-25years: Try and find a job to earn money to live in this ‘nothing is for free’ world.

25-30years: The ultimate sacrifice: Marriage. No comments as to how free that is.

30-Death: Life gets worse from bad until it finally ends. Thank God for that.

Lessons to be learnt:
1) If anybody offers anything for free – they are lying; these people must be interrogated and made prime suspects in every case of homicide in the world.
2) Free does not exist.
3) If a person asks for something for ‘free’ it is safe to regard him/her as being foolish.
4) The stuff you get free when you buy something is almost always crap!
5) If it is not crap then it is something that is very, very addictive.
6) Don’t bother trying to be selfless – it is a lost cause.

Laugh else I will shoot you

What is happening to the world?!
That is a rhetorical question – please do not attempt to answer it.

The economic crisis does not concern me – yet.
So I am not interested in talking about salaries and expenditure.
To hell with how much money you make – it sure is not satisfying you, and my bet is it is a matter of utter dissatisfaction for me too!

Here I am, depressed as hell.
Look at my posts!
Two posts on negative emotions – this is really bad.
And the fact that none of you, I repeat, NONE OF YOU faithful ‘followers’ pointed it out makes me wonder what sort of depressed, lonely, frustrated buffoons I have for followers.

I also noted today that the number of followers I have just went down by one.
Whoever this person might be is definitely lucky because I can’t seem to remember who it is.
Now, I am pretty sure the ‘ex-follower’ is under the false impression that he is more enlightened than me and does not need to follow my posts anymore to attain enlightenment – well you, Mr Negative I.Q., are a fool - that is enlightenment, for you!!
My blog and I are much better without you following!
And you shall rot in hell for ‘de-following’ my blog – unless, of course, you decide to follow my blog again.

Now I know what the rest of you are thinking.
“This lady has gone bonkers. She is totally out of her mind. She is so desperate for followers. Maybe I should not follow her.”
Well, you know what – go ahead.
You will rot in hell too!

Sometimes I think I must become a clown – I definitely look like one.
My nose has the same bulbous end and if I have a cold it turns red too - but it gets leaky, I wonder if clowns have leaky noses.
My depression seems to be depressing my parents.
Hence I am no longer depressed now.
And nor am I going to post depressing posts.
I am going to try and crack you up – so you better laugh!

I was wondering what would really make me laugh.
And all I could think of was making someone slip on a banana peel.
I know it is pretty sadistic – but that would definitely make me laugh.
I wonder if that is okay for a doctor.
I wonder if a badly injured patient would make me laugh – that would be really disturbing – for the patient, of course.

So what makes you laugh?
If I were in front of you right now with a bazooka (I love the sound of that - bazzoookaahh) threatening you to laugh at my posts, would you?

I have always wanted to say ‘Hasta la vista, baby’.
I hate the ‘baby’ bit though.
Maybe I will modify it to ‘Hasta la vista, moron’.
I never liked Arnold though – I think he did the world a favour by quitting movies and joining politics.
Maybe that is why people keep voting for him – because they are so grateful they don’t have to watch him ‘trying’ to act anymore!

Well, whatever it may be, the point is simple:
You’d better laugh at my posts!!

Self worth

There are certain moments in life which make you wonder about yourself.

Every three years I get reminded of how worthless I am.
It first happened when I was fourteen.
I had won a national award and was very content with myself.
At least until my academic performance went below what I considered to be my standards. But then I managed to pick myself up and fared well until I passed out of school. I fell sick and I fared badly in my exams for entering into medical schools in the country. I managed to get through one but not my dream college.
This was by far the worst let down in my life – until a few days back.

I love what I learn.
Even though I bicker at the amount I have to study, I really enjoy learning what I have to learn. I have always been an honours student in medicine.
And even though this year was filled with too many extra curricular activities, I was pretty sure I could do a good job.
But I did not.

I have passed into final year.
I have not failed in any subject.
But my marks have made me question whether I am of any good at anything at all.

Now I know this is pretty stupid.
I hate people who bicker about their marks.
But this is not about the marks; this is about me being good at what I have chosen as my profession.
I used to think this was my forte. No matter what, I could do well in this.
But apparently that is not the case.

I question my self worth – for those who have not figured it out already, I am undergoing the symptoms of moderate to severe depression.
I have tried out all possible ways to get out of it.
Chocolates, shopping, hugs, tears, food – even exercise, apparently exercise releases serotonin which curbs depression.
And I do want to get out of this state.
More than anything I want to get back to college and start working hard to prove to myself more than anybody else that I am good at this.

But the human mind, I tell you, it enjoys the feeling of helplessness.
It enjoys feeling weak and depressed. It requires courage to stand up and move on.
It is easy to preach, easier to use big words and philosophy.
But when you are the one in the dumps you jus keep falling over and over again.

It is like this little rat gnawing at the back of my head.
A voice calling out and reminding me, every single time I start to forget, that I am not supposed to be happy – that I am a good for nothing.

I hate this state I am in.
I know there are many of you out there in the same state I am talking about.

This post is just to let you know, you are not alone.

I will get through this.
No matter how many times I have to pick myself up, nobody is going to tell me I am a loser.

Frustration

Frustration – the state of being frustrated.
I always liked the word ‘frustrated’.
There are some words in the English language which can convey its meaning without the help of a dictionary. I think there is a tad bit of frustration in the very mouthing of the word ‘frustrated’ – I think the R’s take the credit for this.

This state of being frustrated, I think, is one which can very well be fodder for thought.

Frustration arises simply from a circumstance when one is reminded of his helplessness. The more helpless you feel, the more you want to vent the emotional build up due to your helplessness – some turn it into depression while others into anger.
The depression is usually associated with long standing helplessness whereas the anger is, as is usually associated with anger, one which arises without thought.
The only difference in anger which arises from helplessness is that it is directed at not one person in particular. It is directed at lots of people, circumstances, choices, sometimes oneself – it is directed at everything that can be blamed.
And slowly this anger is directed at not only those who might have been responsible for the state of helplessness but at everyone.

Frustration is frustrating for everyone.
Not only does the person hate being the way he is – helpless and thwarted, but also everyone who comes across a frustrated person seem to catch the ‘disease’.
This disease spreads unless you have in you immunity against it.
This immunity which helps protects you from acquiring the disease called ‘frustration’ can be of two types:

1) Accepting your current state of helplessness as a part of what one often refers to as ‘fate’ and letting it be. This can often lead to depression – the long standing effect of helplessness. These people accept defeat too quickly. They do not believe their beliefs are worth believing in.

2) Fighting your helplessness and not accepting defeat. Only a person who accepts being thwarted can be thwarted. It all lies in the mind. There are two ways of fighting your helplessness:

- You deny it. You do not give up and keep banging your head against the closed door which was once an opportunity. This is called being in a state called ‘denial’. I feel sorry for these people.

- You accept the fact that the opportunity is lost and form a Plan B. A plan that can very much lead you to the very same goal. And there is always a Plan B waiting to be constructed.

I am not entirely sure if there are more ways to immunise yourself against frustration. I have not given it much thought.
I decided to post on frustration because of three reasons:

- I was frustrated because my father wanted to watch the news. The other TV is no longer working and my mother did not want me to go back to bed (all I have been doing is eating and sleeping). I really do not understand the obsession fathers have with the news channel!
My Plan B worked though – the details of Plan B are however beyond the scope of this blog because of its sheer ingenuity.

- I was frustrated because I have been experiencing a little difficulty in communicating with a couple of my friends (The reason being already mentioned in my previous post – New Year resolutions!)
In this case I am sure time will work its wonders and I just have to wait.

- I watched a movie about a boy becoming a man of religion not out of his own accord, only because of what is supposedly read in his horoscope. The boy was clearly frustrated. I felt sorry for him.
His Plan B was not very creative and hence was not successful.

I love blogging – gets rid of frustration!

First post of 2009

The New Year has been unexpectedly good to me - so far.

On New Year’s Eve my brother in law asked if I wanted to host a show on TV.
I am not too proud of my conversing skills in my mother tongue.
Now I am basically a very proud-of-myself type of a person.
But this is something I know I suck at.

According to most of my friends my Malayalam makes me sound like a fisherwoman.
I have not been able to comprehend what it is that makes me sound like a fisherwoman. I remember asking one of my friends once what a fisherwoman actually sounds like (for insight) and she told me told me to listen to myself because nobody could do it better – this was most certainly not comforting.

Not that I have anything against fisherwomen.
I think they are awesome people who work very hard for their living.
It just disturbs me when my imagination runs wild and I picture myself in a fishing boat with a stethoscope around my neck.

So when my brother in law asked if I wanted to host a program for a Malayalam channel, I did what every female with a little remaining self respect would do – I refused.
Next thing I know I am explaining to my sister why exactly I do not want people all over the world discussing about my fisherwoman Malayalam accent.
She is pretty manipulative – she is my sister, after all.
Three hours later I find myself agreeing to host the program in English – the power of manipulation.

So I woke up at 8:30 am on January 1st – this is nothing short of miraculous considering the state I was in when I passed out at around three (I think). I spend five hours at a studio doing what they told me to do. It was not so bad actually; they thought I was a natural! Misconceptions – I tell you.

So after finishing off in five hours what they expected would take double the time, I walk out with money I had absolutely no scheme of earning.

And oh I almost forgot, ever since December 31st all I have been eating is KFC – I think it has something to do with me eating KFC when the clock struck midnight.

So the New Year has brought me:
1) Unexpected unbelievable amount of money,
2) Two hours of time on television – maybe more,
3) A secondary career option on screen if I ever succeed in validating my primary career option of becoming a doctor,
4) KFC for every meal,
5) Early rising tendencies.

I think that is not bad for a beginning. And if there is anything to what they say about the whole year simulating the 1st of January – I am going to be so glad.

But I still hate my friends for making resolutions about not spending too much time on the Internet – I can’t wait for them to break free of the shackles of New Year resolutions!!!