Commitment coming clean

Hi.
My name is Commitment.
I am here to come clean.

I don’t consider myself to be a negative word.
It is quite frustrating how I have, since forever, almost always been associated with negative actions
- Committing suicide, committing a crime, committing a mistake... But even in all this darkness I always had one beacon of hope – the role I played in a relationship.

But of late some people are taking this away from me.
I know I haven’t been the best of words.
I know I have been misused by many.
I know how I have unintentionally caused pain to many.
But I consider myself to bring forth promise into people’s lives, not terror.
I bring the promise of a new life.

I really don’t know when commitment and committing transformed to a word to be phobic about from being a word to cherish, a word to look forward to.
I was supposed to bring stability.
I was supposed to be the word of obligation, of trust, of not looking back because what I bring is only hope for the future.

Somehow something went wrong somewhere.
People all over the world are terrified of me.
They are terrified of using me in their sentences, terrified I might make an appearance in their conversations, terrified I might be their future.
What is it about me that people hate?
Is it the lack of change I bring forth in their mundane lives?
Is it the fear of looking back and missing freedom?

I have been used in so many negative aspects it is so easy for me to hate myself. But I love myself only because of how I bring people in love together forever.
And some people are out to ruin me.
These bunch of fools know they are in love but hate me because they don’t understand the happiness I can be capable of.
Here I am trying to come clean before you pin all the blame on me.

I am not responsible for pain and sorrow – you bring that upon yourself.
The lack of me in your lives will make you lonely, if not today then tomorrow.
Someday you will wish you had me earlier when you found the right person and had used me then instead of losing love because of your irrational fear of happiness.
This is me coming clean –
I am awesome only because of my role in bringing people together in happiness eternally.
The pessimists might think I am lying and that my thorns prick their balloons of artificial bliss.
The optimists look for rosy bushes all the way.
But the realists are the ones who understand me, the ones who know that without the thorns the roses are just not for real.
The realists know that I am for real – the raw deal.
I am what life is all about; I am why life is worth living; I am the hope for a tomorrow worth waking up to.

I wish somebody would stand up for who I am.
I wish somebody would tell these fools what I could bring into their lives.

I wish somebody would help stop this terror so that I might not be driven to ‘committing’ suicide.

This is me, Commitment, coming clean.
Now you know my side of the story.

Sinful fun

I have missed this.
I have terribly missed puking out my thoughts here.
But of late there just have been too many random thoughts zo0ming in and out that I am just not able to pick on any of them to actually puke!
And for a brief period I did consider the idea that I might not be too good at this – thanks to some people.
What matters is – I think I’m back! Just give me a few posts to warm up though.

I visited Europe!
Yes. It happened.
I went to Paris, Rome and mainly moved around in Netherlands.
Well, there isn’t much to discuss about my vacation except that it was awesome while I was there.
But now that I am back each and every moment there seems like a dream or maybe even a farce.
Lesson learnt: when something is too good to be true – it isn’t true!
If you can’t understand – don’t try, it is one of those random thoughts zooming by.

I thought I’d type out a few lines on one of my thoughts in Europe – a non-descript person did ask me if I would blog on it, but that has nothing to do with me blogging on it. If I were to follow the opinions of certain people my blog and I would have absolutely no self respect. And yes, my blog does have more self respect than many people in the world.

I am not very enlightened in the case of religions and their teachings. So if anybody out there knows more about this please do comment and share the enlightenment. Anyway, while I was in Europe we went to innumerable churches and places of worship. We also had lots of fun – lots of it. During one such fun day I was wondering if the fun I am having is actually sinful in the eyes of the Big Guy. Well I must say my thoughts weren’t clear but I clearly remember voicing my thoughts – big mistake.

So I was wondering why most religions consider activities of recreation, that people my age might succumb to, sinful. And I was thinking so hard I couldn’t come up with any other conclusion than – maybe the Big Guy just doesn’t like us having fun.
But then that seemed mighty wrong.
He would never do such a thing – would he?
Maybe it is because he wants to teach us about self control.
Well, that seemed very plausible.
But I don’t understand the whole self control prison. Most of the time, we just confine ourselves in these little boxes not even letting our best thoughts break out wondering if it might be morally correct.
Some religions are more confining than others; does this mean that some people have more self control because of the religion they practice? Does this mean that they have more trouble expressing their inner most primitive being because of the fear of sinning?

This post, honestly, is not my piece of cake. I really dislike the idea of blogging on this. Bu it happened to be one of the clearer thoughts I have been having – and yes I am trying hard to get my brain to work more, I think not blogging has made me an easy target for making a fool out of for the last few months – if that is possible!

Anyway continuing my line of thought – moral obligations keeping us from committing a crime are ones that I totally understand. But somehow, somewhere I think the Big Guy just went overboard while trying to make us good people. Now we are, in a way, suppressed people.
And suppressed people are ticking bombs.

Another thought that hit me was that maybe these ‘sins’ are fun because they are sins!
Humans, disgusting creatures as they are, tend to have a rush when they do something they’re not supposed to do. I honestly think men have this rush more than women considering the number of cheating husbands and boyfriends. But that is beside the point. Maybe it is because of this rush that some sins have become fun.
And if that is the case I have a wonderful idea.
We should make things like being generous, helping those in need, being truthful, sins. Every time a person wants to have fun (which basically always) they’ll commit sins and since these sins are actually not sins we will actually be doing something great for the society.
I know we have a long way to go.
But keep an open mind and actually think about it – it might work.

I think it is time I stop typing, before I commit blasphemy – or did I, already?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!!

Guess who is back?.. like duh!

I am back.
The universities killed me.
I am sure the prayers and the good luck worked because I seriously cannot imagine my condition had I been left in the land of the dead.
So thank you everyone for bringing me back from the dead.
Now I am alive and I have so much to blog about I do not know where to start!

But first, it is time for me to deliver an acceptance speech.
I WON AN AWARD!!!
It has been about 4 months since I started blogging and this is my first award – I think you should think it is quite an achievement!!!
I know the thought of my blog winning an award might sound hilarious to many (including me) but it is nothing short of awesome to be handed over this distinguished privilege from tys on ice – Thanks for making my comeback from the land of the dead so full of life.

Now tys on ice thinks I am funny – a thought to think over.
He also thinks I do not give a damn about what others think – on second thoughts, maybe I should not think over the thought.

Now for the AWARD:


This award is given to a blog that invests and believes in PROXIMITY - nearness in space, time and relationships! These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers! Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.


Yes I won it.
I know it is hard to believe.
I found it hard to believe myself but deep down inside, at the apex of the left ventricle of my heart I know I deserve it.
I know I am boasting – but I have every right to.
Those of you who have a problem with my not so modest ways can go eat their sour grapes and think about the cacti up their anus.
I hate modesty – to me modesty is nothing short of betrayal.
I shall post about this soon.

And now for the eight I have the POWER to bestow this blessing upon.
I really feel like a fairy god-mother today – a young, beautiful one would be more what I have in mind though, I hate the idea of looking old and haggard while dressing up Cinderellas to look like beauty queens.

And the Cinderellas (in no particular order) are:

1) Keyzer Soze: He let me know about me winning this award. He is a medical student too. One among the first blogs I started reading regularly. I have loved almost every single post of his because it is quite obviously straight from his point of view with no added complexities. He has variety unmatched in his blog – ranging from fiction to personal entries to lyrics written by him. He deserves this award way more than I do.

2) Genesis of oblivion: He is a very young blogger - One who has encouraged me at every step of my blogging period. I am glad he took my advice and started blogging. It is wonderful to see someone who is very alike you express views that might very well be yours in different words.

3) Juxtaposed blogger: A blog I came across pretty recently. He has been a friend of mine since school and I never knew he had a brain until I started reading his blog. Well, apparently his brain is functioning pretty well.

4) Kapila: I am not usually the sort who loves reading fiction in blogs. But this girl can write! I love her short stories because they are always so dramatic. I hope to see more coming!

5) Sandeep Balan: Another blog I came across recently. I love his short stories too. His posts are so descriptive many a times I have felt like I have been to places and met the people he writes about. You make my untamed imagination come alive.

6) Jane Turley: I have just one word to describe this blog – AWESOME! She is a housewife with two sons from England with a fetish for chocolates and Mr Bond. I think her blog is super cool and full of life. I would love to be able to write like her.

7) Sy: I have been a regular reader of this blog ever since I started blogging. He is also British, a recent Dad and a very regular blogger. Hilarious would be an understatement as far as this blog is concerned. His posts always lighten up my day.

8) Nurav Yednap: He has always been one among the very few people I acknowledge as being really smart. He does not post too often. But I love the way he conveys his message in words that are indirectly direct.

So now that we have our Cinderellas and I am back to being jobless at home for holidays in Dubai I shall keep the posts coming regularly and at a fast pace.

P.S: My friends and family have noticed I have been acting a lot weirder than usual recently. Apparently I have gone crazier. So I guess my posts will be wackier than usual. Sorry for the inconvenience – not really…

Somethings and small nothings

I think this blog, for the past few days, has been a mirror to my multiple personality disorder! Almost every alternate post has been deep, profound and philosophical while the others have been weird and plain stupid old me.

I am not a great fan of philosophical stuff – unless I am the one writing, of course.
I mean no offence, whatsoever, to those who love reading deep and profound stuff – even I do it at times!
This post is going to be about why people tend to think ‘deep, profound and philosophical’ stuff.

People read and think about philosophical stuff when:

1) They realise how cool grey hair actually looks on people and desperately need some pronto to look intellectual and wise!

2) They realise they have grown old and still really don’t know anything about life – which nobody really does by the way.

3) They have exams coming up and have a lack of comic books to read.

4) They have exams coming up and anything other than ‘thinking’ and ‘studying’ makes them feel guilty.

5) They don’t have a life.

6) They get dumped by their friends/partner.

7) They realise they are gay/bisexual.

8) They realise their partner is gay/bisexual.

9) They realise all their friends are gay/bisexual.

10) They lose their only source of income/job.

11) Their only source of income sucks the life out of them.

12) Their boss is gay/bisexual.

13) They realise their partner has been only as faithful as they have been.

14) They realise their partner has been less faithful than they have been.

15) Their neighbour is earning more and has a better car.

16) Their neighbour’s wife/husband looks better than their partner.

17) Their neighbour is gay/bisexual and has been making advances.

18) Their neighbour is gay/bisexual and has been making advances at their partner.

19) Their child asks them if they are gay/bisexual.

20) Their child is gay/bisexual.

21) They have nothing better to write/think about other than homo/bisexuality.

I am going to stop now.
I think I lost my train of thought a long time ago.
I need to stop before causing any further damage to the readers.

Ignoring ignorance

I do not believe ignorance as being bliss.
At least at this point in my life, at this very moment; I do not believe so.

Ignorance can never be bliss.
Knowledge is the path of truth.
Truth makes one free.
Freedom is heaven.
Hence knowledge is the path to heaven.
If knowledge is the path to heaven how can ignorance be bliss?
If this were to be true knowledge is supposed to lead to ignorance – which is definitely false.

Ignorance may, however, lead one to believe in experiencing a state of false bliss.
But if it is false then it is temporary.
It is temporary because the truth always prevails.
And if it is temporary bliss is not bliss after all.

There is only one thing that frustrates me more than ignorance.
It is ignoring ignorance.
Only the ignorant ignore ignorance.
And what is worse is the ignorant consider themselves not ignorant.
They actually think what they rant about is right even when they are effectively told otherwise. And there are always other ignorant ones who support their kin.
It is a brotherhood stronger than many known – the brotherhood of the ignorant fools.

The first step towards being not ignorant is accepting that you are ignorant.
And then you move on to wisdom – bit by bit.
So in reality there is only one form of absolute ignorance and that is ignoring ignorance.

Absolute ignorance is in believing that you are not in the slightest bit ignorant at all.
Nobody is all knowing except Him (if you do believe in Him).
And as long as nobody is ‘all knowing’ it stands to reason that everyone is ignorant about something or the other.

It is true I have quoted myself as being enlightened many a times in this blog. But enlightenment does not mean reaching a state of being ‘all-knowing’.
It merely means knowing about something – anything.
I maybe enlightened on the origin of the universe.
I maybe enlightened on the purpose of life.
I maybe enlightened on how to tie shoe laces.
The ultimate enlightenment is never procured.
Because when you do obtain that level of enlightenment you understand how little you actually do know.

Do not ignore the ignorant.
It may be frustrating to bring them on the path to enlightenment.
They may be adamant about their knowledge being far superior to that of yours.
They may question every bit of knowledge you have obtained with much a lot of difficulty.
They may not treat your wisdom with reverence, they may even mock your being knowledgeable.
They will, for sure, question it.
But you must know that is why they are the ignorant.

To conclude, I repeat what is written right below the title of my blog.
I am not all knowing as the less knowing claim.
I only know more than everyone else.

It's Ally again!

Seems like people love reading how weird I am.
The awesome response to my last post on 'My Ally McBeal moments' has led me to post some more.
So here goes.

These moments however are quite original as the hallucinations have never been featured in any Ally McBeal episode I know of.

1) Hammering

This happened sometime in the beginning of this year.
I do not remember which month exactly – but I do remember I was under a lot of stress at the time.
I had a deadline to meet for the magazine publishing and time seemed to flying.
The designer (I shall post about him soon) was giving me a very tough time.
I slept for only about three to four hours a day.
And the ultimate ‘stress factor’ was me not eating much thanks to lack of time.

I had my medicine clinical postings going on.
For those of you who do not know – medicine posting is one of the most trying postings and I am not too fond of how boring it gets at times.
We were supposed to present cases everyday to a professor who would then discuss the case – sometimes at length and sometimes in brief.

On this particular day I was extremely cranky.
The only reason I attended posting was because the professor who was supposed to take class for us was known to finish it off quickly and let us be.
I reached posting at nine fifteen – I had gone to sleep at around five thirty.
No breakfast as usual.
The case was taken by some irritating ‘know-it-all’ the previous evening (talk about heights of joblessness!). It was a pretty straight forward case with no complications and not much discussion required.
The professor arrived at eleven.
I was fuming.
The case presentation seemed to go on forever with the professor interrupting at the end of every word of every sentence.
The presentation came to an end at noon.
The professor discussed the case for another fifteen minutes and then took the attendance register.
And that was when ‘Mr I-am-so-curious-to-know-crap’ asked a doubt… and then another… and then another.

It happened.
I got a humongous bright yellow hammer from nowhere and I started hammering ‘Mr I-am-so-curious-to-know-crap’ with all the strength I could muster. The ground started giving away and I kept hammering him into the depths of some sort of molten earth underneath.

The next thing I know I feel faint.
I guess all the hammering made me tired.
I steady myself on the patient’s bed and tell the professor I am not feeling too well.
Attendance was taken and the class was adjourned.
And believe it or not - ‘Mr I-am-so-curious-to-know-crap’ was blasting away his doubts even after the class was over.
I pity the professor.

2) Diced balls

I have nothing against men.
I have nothing against single men flirting in good faith either.
But when the flirting becomes uncivilised, it is unbearable.

This happened two weeks back during my exams.

There is this certain post graduate who has a reputation of flirting with all the female students posted in the same unit as his.
I was posted in his unit.
This post graduate is nothing short of being a ‘dickhead’ as in he does not have a brain, only a dick. His eyes are always fixed at a point much lower than the face of the female he is talking to. He walks in a very well planned manner so as to brush past every female’s body. He, in short, is like almost every other man – except he does what he thinks and gets caught at it every single time.

I hated him from the very first ‘encounter’ and have been quite successfully trying to avoid him since then.
This was until he came for invigilation during our exams.

Two hours into the exam and I needed an extra sheet.
He gives it to me looking at the same fixed point.
Dickhead.
I ask for another sheet.
Same fixed point again.
Double dickhead.

Most of the post graduates were ‘helping’ students who asked for ‘help’ during the exam. Some of them were writing down answers for them.
I would rather die than ask him!

I ask for another sheet – now I would like to point out that I am very good at writing ‘nothing’ in a lot of words and also my hand writing is very spaced out, hence so many extra sheets. It is not because I know much.
He hands over the sheet.
He leans forward.
I lean backward.
He asks me if I need any help with an extremely disgusting smile on his face.

And then it began.
I had two of those extremely sharp but tiny knives with me.
I did some extremely complex and inexplicable movements with my hands.
I dropped the knives and picked up a small porcelain bowl which was on my exam table – all within nanoseconds.
I made sure every diced piece of his external genitalia (which was now in air) fell into the porcelain bowl and handed it to him with a smile.
Bon appetit.

He asked me again if I needed any help.
I croaked out a no even though I really could have used some help.
There are moments in life when you wish you had the power to make hallucinations real – I experienced that moment then.

That is all for now.
Do comment and let me know if you have had any similar experiences.
I will post more soon – but for now this should quench your thirst for weird stuff.

Going bald

Bald is good.

I am not too fond of my hair.
I know of many people who think my hair is so ‘lively’ and ‘thick’.
I think it is a messy load of unruly keratin fibres.
I have always hated the idea of growing my hair long.
I mean it is nice to look at – but who wants to manage it?!
And here I am now trying (quite unsuccessfully) to grow my unruly hooligan keratin fibres for God alone knows whose benefit.

The last time I had to grow my hair was for my sister’s wedding.
This was because I was supposed to look like a girl – which I apparently did not.
Every one of my ‘grey haired’ relatives thinks having short hair is the same as undergoing a sex change operation.
According to them short hair can mean only one thing – Man.
I tell you – women of yesterday’s era have not had enough exposure to what is down there.

There is more to being a woman than having long hair!
There are other ‘things’ that speak of our feminine nature in a bolder voice.
Why don’t people just be bothered about those ‘things’?
Leave the hair alone!

According to the grapevine, only prostitutes and widows shaved their heads. And I shaving my head might lead myself to be mistaken for belonging to one of among the above mentioned ‘groups of people’.
This is hilarious.

Prostitutes were made to shave their heads as a punishment to the sinful life they have chosen – but today prostitutes live a life only as sinful as almost every Tom, Dick and Harry. The only difference being they earn for their ways of living.
I have not come across many prostitutes in my life but I doubt many of them have shaved heads nowadays.

I have no idea why widows were made to shave their heads – maybe some form of displaying their sorrow – weird!
And as far as being mistaken for a widow is concerned – it is a chance I am prepared to take.

I have always wanted to go bald – shave my head.
I always wanted to have a shiny head.
A head that can actually feel rain drops falling on them.
I had decided to have it done after my school years.
But then my mother and sisters manipulated me into believing that I would look terrible – now that I think of it I really do not understand where from ‘looks’ came into question!

I keep managing to chop off more and more each time I get a ‘new look’. The last one was one step short of shaving my head.
That implies this time I have got to do it.

I think it is pretty strange girls do not feel like shaving their heads around here.
The climate is so humid and sticky.
If I were born here I would have always had a bald head.
I mentioned shaving my head to one of my friends a couple of days back and her response made me think.

She told me to go ahead but to keep two things in mind:

1) My university exams are coming up and we have professors from medical colleges all over south India coming to evaluate our intellectual prowess. Unfortunately, these fools who do not know much tend to pass judgements based on appearances. And a bald headed girl with a nose piercing and multi coloured contact lenses is not what they classify under the ‘smart ones’ rather I would be classified under the ‘totally weird and waste of time’ category which is synonymous to ‘fail without question’ category. So wait till after the universities.

2) People are jobless. They love finding stuff to gossip/bitch/make up stories about – this is especially true in college. After Britney shaved her head and some bird brained actresses changed their hairstyles to get a different look – shaving one’s head has come to mean ‘failed relationship status leading to depression and low self esteem’.

This could not be further from the truth because:
a) I am not in any sort of relationship for it to fail.
b) If there was ‘a relationship’ I would be more than happy to end it and hence would never be depressed.
c) Nothing and nobody can bring upon me a low self esteem. If there is any person on earth who truly thinks she is awesome – it is me – and this stands to good reasoning too.

So here I am – frustrated.
Frustrated because I cannot do what I want to.
Jobless people and stuck-up professors have started deciding what I do with my life.
I wonder where I went wrong.

Should I just go shave my head and not give a damn?

My Ally Mc Beal moments

Those of you who have watched ‘Ally McBeal’ would know what I am referring to as one of her ‘moments’. If you have not – you should!

If you have no idea as to what or who Ally Mc Beal is:
1) It was a series which I watched on Star World about five years back.
2) It is about this weird, extremely single and desperate lawyer – Ally, and her weird friends (I love John, I hate Billy, I love Richard).
3) It was funny – in the weird sort of way.

Now, Ally used to have these moments of extreme weirdness when she hallucinates stuff – mainly visual but also auditory.
Even John used to have many of them.
Here are a few incidents when these have come to play in my life – and I am not making this up!
Do comment if you have had any such incident – I will not be judgemental.


1) The Song.
This is basically John’s hallucination – Ally borrows it.

I had a debate recently.
I have posted the gist of it – ‘Thought for food’
The finals dawned upon us without much warning.
It was seriously an unwelcome surprise.
I do not usually get nervous at public speaking events – I usually have complete confidence in my ‘bullshitting’ skills.
But that day it was different.
I didn’t even know what I was supposed to do – parliamentary crap.
Just before the event began I ran out of the auditorium.
My debate partner must have thought I lost it – but then she already knows I am weird and she is on the weirder side of life herself.
I ran to the ladies room and just stood there in front of the mirror.

And then it began – the Ally McBeal moment.
The music began –
“tuntun tun tuntun, tuntuntun tuntun, tuntun tun tuntun, tuntuntun tuntun”
And then it grew louder.
And I knew I had to start dancing.
I began doing those wonderful moves John does best.
Two minutes of grooving ‘John style’ and I know I am ready.

I walk back.
My partner is not there.
She comes in after a while.
We begin.
We win.


2) The Resonating Bell.
This is John’s hallucination – Richard tries borrowing it.

It was a normal day in class quite a few years back.
We, the back benchers, were not listening – as usual.
It was one of those ‘cricket years’ when we girls were perfecting our unskilled cricket skills. We used to play cricket every recess – using an aluminium foil ball and one of our thickest textbooks as a bat.
I was not bad at it.

During class, one of my friends throws an eraser at me.
Being as ‘into cricket’ as I was, I lift up my text book and *smack*
The eraser goes flyin.
The eraser hits the ceiling fan.
The eraser changes direction.
*smack*
The eraser hits the teacher right on her face.
Two words come out of my mouth unintentionally - “holy shit”.

At first the teacher is confused.
She has no idea what hit her or where it came from.
Being as stupid as she was, I hoped she would think the eraser dropped down from the heavens. Apparently, she was not that stupid.
She asked who did it.

Enter Ally McBeal moment.
In the beginning it was one of those small clanks Richard’s hallucinatory bell made.
“clink clink, clink clink”
And then it struck.
The resonating bell sounded magnificent.
“Dong, Dong, Dong, Dong…”
I knew I had to do it.

I stood up.
I told the teacher my friend was trying to pass me the eraser and it ‘accidentally’ struck my textbook which I was trying to pass to the girl seated behind me. And then it hit the fan which was responsible for the eraser hitting her smack across the face.
She was confused.
I swear, for a second she actually looked at the fan.
She told me to sit down and not to pass my textbook around.
Well, she was stupid.


3) Shrink me.
This incident occurred about two years ago when I was ‘going strong’ with my ex-boyfriend- let us call him X.
This is entirely an Ally hallucination.

As couples usually do, I had a tiff with X – basically because I needed somebody to push around.
I come back to my room and my roommate who is two years senior to me seems very eager to talk to me.
(She is no longer my roommate. She finished her MBBS a year ago.)
I decide to listen – big mistake.

Roommate: I saw X near the library today.
Me: So? (Thinking: what is he doing near the library)
Roommate: He came up and talked to me.
Me: Hmm… (Thinking: You have got to do better than this to make me jealous, bastard)
Roommate: He told me he has never seen me without glasses and the lenses make such a big difference on my face. He told me I have beautiful eyes.
Me: Yeah. You actually do have beautiful eyes. (Thinking: Whatever!)

I decide to irritate him further with this wonderful piece of news.
Another reason to push him around – wonderful!
I type out an SMS:
“Hey so now you are hitting on my roommate. Pretty eyes right?! Get someone your own age!”
And I send it.
But one small mistake – I send it to my roommate instead of X.
I get the delivery report.
I hear the message tone on her mobile.

Enter Ally hallucination.
I want to shrink into the size of an ant and run away as fast as I can.
I bury my face in my pillow and hope I die.

Roommate: You send me the message…
Me: I know.
Roommate: You don’t need to be mad at him because of me.
Me: I was just pulling his leg. It is no big deal. I do this all the time.
(Thinking: Oh lord! Please kill me!)

I call up X to tell him what just happened.
X: Serves you right for trying so hard to fight with me.
Me: Is this what they call karma?

Apparently this is what they call “Instant karma”
I hate it.


4) Fist in mouth.
This happened yesterday.
As far as I know I have not seen this hallucination in Ally McBeal.
It is mine.

One of my unit-mates is from Mauritius.
He has one of those funny French accents – where they say “ave” instead of “have”.
He has a bald head too.
I make fun of people who are normal.
So it is pretty obvious I make fun of him a lot.
He makes fun of me at times.

Yesterday we were supposed to spend an hour in the Community Medicine museum. We were supposed to look at the models and the charts and think of ways to re-decorate the place – I thought we were doing MBBS but apparently we are doing an interior decoration course.

There was this particular model which caught my attention.
It was about family planning.
The students actually made a penis out of polystyrene and got a condom on it – it was brilliant even though the penis was way too long in proportion to the torso and too narrow to be real – the condom had space to fit in a finger along with the polystyrene penis.

I was discussing the proportion with my unit-mates when Mr. Mauritius tells me I am twisted!
Can you believe it? Me – twisted!
I am the most not twisted person I have ever known.
I literally scream at him –
“You think every damn professor is hitting on me! You are the twisted one around here!”
I turn around and come face to face with the professor.
He did not seem pleased with what I said.

Hallucination begins.
I imagine myself hammering my blown up fist down my mouth.
I keep shut for most of the next half hour.
I had caused enough damage.

So, do you have any such moments?
I have many more – this post is too long already.

Don't bother

I am not satisfied.
I am usually a very satisfied person.
The last post has made me dissatisfied.

Have you ever felt like you were awake while you were actually sleeping?
This usually happens when you are just about to wake up.
You do everything you have to do after waking up while sleeping, and then you wake up to realise you were actually sleeping and did not do any of those things you had to do.
A very discouraging false notion as far as waking up is concerned.
This happens to me quite often.
It occurs every time I wake up.
Which means it occurs every time I sleep.
But now, for quite a bit this has not occurred to me.

Rather, I am suffering from the exact opposite of such a situation right now
– If such an opposite did exist, that is.

I am suffering from the feeling that I am sleeping even when I am awake.
I am so sure that I am sleeping that I don’t do anything.
I end up doing nothing.
But that is not a big deal – I do nothing most of the time, anyway.

The problem is the way people seem to notice the state I am in.
They seem to think I am thinking.
And all of a sudden people seem to be bothered what I am thinking about
- Maybe this is because I never think (or appear to be thinking) and thought of me thinking has people thinking what I might be thinking about which is more often than always worth thinking about.

So the point is I appear to be thinking all the time.
- Even though I am actually under the notion that I am asleep and am doing nothing.
This would be alright if I just let it be.

But I am not letting it be.
I am actually pretending to be thinking to please those who think I am thinking.

So here I am under the notion that I am asleep pretending to be thinking.
And when you are under such a trying situation you tend to post stupid, irrelevant and totally dissatisfying posts like the previous one.

So, don’t bother.
I’m not thinking.
I’m asleep.
Rather, I am under the false notion that I am asleep.
Let it be.

Depression

I am depressed.
My last post had totally depressed the fucking hell out of me.
How can a freaking post have such an effect on a human life – that too the life of an enlightened one?
The mere thought of a depressing post depressing me is depressing.

‘Strictly jokes apart’?
WTF?
When did that happen?
When did strict come into being and jokes fall apart?
Can you imagine what would be the condition your life would be in if my sense of humour came to a full stop rather than the comma it is in now?
Thank God Almighty it is a comma instead of the full stop - God help you if it came to a full stop because even God wouldn’t be able to help you!
That is the scale of depression I am talking about – a scale beyond the imaginative skills of the lesser ones.
Wait! Was I just blasphemous? Well, if I was it was not entirely intentional.
Not entirely.

And what about the last line – ‘Figure out yours’.
As if you could do that all by yourself. That is supposed to be my job - enlightening you, step by step, baby step by baby step, pre-term baby step by pre-term baby step. And I disclaim all responsibility, wash my hands (with soap) telling you to figure it out yourself.
WTF?
Poor, helpless souls on the brink of depression - this actually leads me into a state of depressed depression.

Depression being so rampant in this so very depressing world, I have decided not to depress you depressed souls any further with depressing posts because it is very depressing for me to depress you.
So do not be depressed because depression can be very depressing.
The jokes shall come again and they shall never fall apart.

Paranoia

I have been paranoid all my life - at least ever since I can remember. Maybe this was because I learnt the meaning of paranoia from some stupid TV show early on in life, when I was seven - to be meticulously exact... Yes! Seven and ever since then I love the word paranoid and I have been paranoid.

Being paranoid is kind of cool contrary to the usual beliefs. It can get out of hand at times but mostly it is a work of the imaginative skills in you. Walk into a crowd and I feel people talking about me, discussing every single disturbing detail, almost plotting against me. Everything a person says or does crosses my mind twice:
First, it just crosses my mind... flashes through.
Then, it comes back all the way and crosses my mind again, slower this time. And this time I wonder about the hidden agenda. About what the hidden plot of finally doing harm to me is. About what the person actually meant or didn’t mean or meant to mean or didn’t mean to mean.

Sometimes I get tired of it and just let it be. I mean what is to lose anyway. If they do finally get to me and say, kill me, I am dead. That is about it. Now how much can that matter. Not much to me because I am not going to lose out on anything other than a boring, almost-insignificant life on this insignificant planet of ours. But it might be a great loss to you because the only person who could enlighten you just died. So if you are plotting against me, it is you who you are harming, not me. Little do I care about your well being.
So (please!) stop and think twice, thrice or even a million times before you act else you shall regret forever.

I recently read something about paranoia that made sense. 'Just because you are paranoid doesn't mean they are not out to get you.' Nice. Very nice.

So the question is, are people actually out to get me? Or am I just paranoid? For all those who think I am actually crazy and immediately need help from some crazier-than-me person who is out to empty my pocket – well, maybe you are right. Maybe I am a little eccentric in my thoughts.
But a little paranoia is not always equal to crazy.
Even you have it at times.
Don't deny it.
I accepted it a long time ago, when I was seven - to be meticulously exact.