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.
Thursday, 5 March 2009
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.
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.
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.
Friday, 20 February 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, 18 February 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, 4 February 2009
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.
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.
Monday, 2 February 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, 15 January 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, 11 January 2009
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?
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.
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.
Monday, 5 January 2009
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!!
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.
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.
Friday, 2 January 2009
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!
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!!!
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!!!
Wednesday, 31 December 2008
Last post of 2008
Happy new year to all of you!!!
Hope the New Year is filled with joy, prosperity and all the wonderful sounding words that the millions of greeting cards wish the New Year is filled with.
I do not believe in New Year resolutions.
Nor do I believe in a new year being a new beginning.
I do not believe anything much changes on January 1st 2009.
I think this day only marks the Earth successfully completing one revolution of the Sun and if the year was counted from April, The Fool’s day may very well be the beginning of a new year.
I apologize for being what Mr Scrooge was for Christmas.
This is what I think of new years.
The point is everyday can be a new beginning and a year can begin from any day you want it to begin from – changing the year from 2008 to 2009 is not that big a deal.
I sincerely hope all you readers have a great time in 2009.
I will be a final year medical student – meaning I am not sure of how often I will be able to post.
I shall try my best to keep enlightening all of you.
Keep reading – be it 2008 or 2009…
Hope the New Year is filled with joy, prosperity and all the wonderful sounding words that the millions of greeting cards wish the New Year is filled with.
I do not believe in New Year resolutions.
Nor do I believe in a new year being a new beginning.
I do not believe anything much changes on January 1st 2009.
I think this day only marks the Earth successfully completing one revolution of the Sun and if the year was counted from April, The Fool’s day may very well be the beginning of a new year.
I apologize for being what Mr Scrooge was for Christmas.
This is what I think of new years.
The point is everyday can be a new beginning and a year can begin from any day you want it to begin from – changing the year from 2008 to 2009 is not that big a deal.
I sincerely hope all you readers have a great time in 2009.
I will be a final year medical student – meaning I am not sure of how often I will be able to post.
I shall try my best to keep enlightening all of you.
Keep reading – be it 2008 or 2009…
Infidelity
I watched a Malayalam movie about 4 or 5 months back which made me re-think my stand on infidelity. The movie was ‘Ore kadal’ by Shyamaprasad. It is based on a Bengali book which goes by the name of ‘Herrak Deepthy’ by Sunil Gangopadhyay.
I have liked all of Shyamaprasad’s movies till date and as far as Sunil Gangopahyay’s books are concerned – I have been dying to lay my hands on any of them. Many of his books have been made into movies by Satyajit Ray – I think that is self explanatory.
The story revolves around a stark contrast of four characters.
The hero ‘Nathan’ is a well educated economics professor who loathes attachment – among all the characters in the story this is the one I could relate to the most. The reason he loathes attachment of any sort is only due to fear of loss. And an illiterate, poor and innocent wife of another man guides him out of his cocoon with the power of love. I have not been able to comprehend his change in character towards the end which portrays him as a man madly in love. I do not believe people can change so.
The heroine ‘Deepthy’ is an illiterate lady belonging to the lower middle class society. Her life is about as normal as any other lady in her strata of the society – until she falls prey to temptation. She is a woman who is too unsure of herself to argue with anyone’s wants or needs. She submits to dominance. She falls in love with the pleasure she derives from a man other than her husband. Her feeble mind haunts her when she becomes the mother of his child and this eventually drives her crazy.
After a couple of years she is ‘treated’ and ‘cured’.
But by then Nathan realises he cannot live without the love that can make a woman go literally crazy. The movie ends with Deepthy deciding to stay with Nathan – when her purpose of visiting him was to murder him – again depicting how indecisive her nature can be.
Other than these two characters, there are two other very strong characters – Deepthy’s husband and Nathan’s ‘friend’ Bella.
Deepthy’s husband is a man who wants nothing more than to live a normal life. He loves his wife but does not express it exquisitely. He loves his family. He is a good father. Here we have a man who represents a majority in the Indian society. One who does not want to accept anything out of the ordinary and will go to any lengths to bring his life back to its ‘ordinary’ state.
Bella is Nathan’s friend. She does not believe in attachment but she does believe in love. She was raped by her uncle and cousin when she was too young to even know what rape actually means. Her son died of starvation when she was an adolescent. She has been through a lot of pain in her life and she wants to live only for the moment. She does not look forward to the future nor does she care for the past. She loves being alone but unlike Nathan she does not run away from love.
Infidelity to me was always something that was associated with the ‘cunning’ or ‘smart’ ones. I always thought cheating on one’s partner required one to be shrewd. But this movie changed my outlook. I have now come to the conclusion that infidelity can be committed by those who don’t really know what they want, those who are unsure of themselves, those who submit themselves to others’ wants.
I am not of the opinion that they are less to blame.
I am not of the opinion that what they are committing is less of a sin than those who do it knowingly.
I am not of the opinion that ‘love’ of this sort should be forgiven.
But the movie was enlightening.
I did not know that helplessness can be the cause of infidelity.
I have liked all of Shyamaprasad’s movies till date and as far as Sunil Gangopahyay’s books are concerned – I have been dying to lay my hands on any of them. Many of his books have been made into movies by Satyajit Ray – I think that is self explanatory.
The story revolves around a stark contrast of four characters.
The hero ‘Nathan’ is a well educated economics professor who loathes attachment – among all the characters in the story this is the one I could relate to the most. The reason he loathes attachment of any sort is only due to fear of loss. And an illiterate, poor and innocent wife of another man guides him out of his cocoon with the power of love. I have not been able to comprehend his change in character towards the end which portrays him as a man madly in love. I do not believe people can change so.
The heroine ‘Deepthy’ is an illiterate lady belonging to the lower middle class society. Her life is about as normal as any other lady in her strata of the society – until she falls prey to temptation. She is a woman who is too unsure of herself to argue with anyone’s wants or needs. She submits to dominance. She falls in love with the pleasure she derives from a man other than her husband. Her feeble mind haunts her when she becomes the mother of his child and this eventually drives her crazy.
After a couple of years she is ‘treated’ and ‘cured’.
But by then Nathan realises he cannot live without the love that can make a woman go literally crazy. The movie ends with Deepthy deciding to stay with Nathan – when her purpose of visiting him was to murder him – again depicting how indecisive her nature can be.
Other than these two characters, there are two other very strong characters – Deepthy’s husband and Nathan’s ‘friend’ Bella.
Deepthy’s husband is a man who wants nothing more than to live a normal life. He loves his wife but does not express it exquisitely. He loves his family. He is a good father. Here we have a man who represents a majority in the Indian society. One who does not want to accept anything out of the ordinary and will go to any lengths to bring his life back to its ‘ordinary’ state.
Bella is Nathan’s friend. She does not believe in attachment but she does believe in love. She was raped by her uncle and cousin when she was too young to even know what rape actually means. Her son died of starvation when she was an adolescent. She has been through a lot of pain in her life and she wants to live only for the moment. She does not look forward to the future nor does she care for the past. She loves being alone but unlike Nathan she does not run away from love.
Infidelity to me was always something that was associated with the ‘cunning’ or ‘smart’ ones. I always thought cheating on one’s partner required one to be shrewd. But this movie changed my outlook. I have now come to the conclusion that infidelity can be committed by those who don’t really know what they want, those who are unsure of themselves, those who submit themselves to others’ wants.
I am not of the opinion that they are less to blame.
I am not of the opinion that what they are committing is less of a sin than those who do it knowingly.
I am not of the opinion that ‘love’ of this sort should be forgiven.
But the movie was enlightening.
I did not know that helplessness can be the cause of infidelity.
Tuesday, 30 December 2008
Frog Prince
If you do not already know, let me let you know – I am an ardent fan of fairy tales and animated movies. This, on the contrary to what you may believe as true, is not because I believe or expect something of the sort to happen in my life. I love these stories and movies merely for the fact that they make me feel good – always.
I am pretty sure all the fairy tales are just twisted forms of reality. This post is going to be about by ‘real’ form of the Frog Prince.
For those of you who do not know the story of the Frog Prince let me enlighten you.
There are three forms of this tale existing that I am aware of. I personally like the Grimm’s version.
1) The Grimm’s version:
It begins with a princess, who is extremely spoilt and all she does all day is play with her ‘golden ball’ by tossing it up and trying to catch it. Since she is a retard, one fine day, she fails to catch it and the ball falls into a spring. There she sits and weeps – again because she is a retard.
Enter hero of our story – the ugly frog.
The smartass frog makes a deal with the retard princess and she agrees to let the frog eat with her, sleep with her and accepts the frog as her true love if the frog gets her ball back. Now the retard princess is pretty shrewd because she has no plans of keeping her promise. And hence, once she gets her ball, she runs back to her palace.
But she forgets, the hero of our story is not just an ugly frog – he is the smartass hero!
So the frog finds his way to the palace and reminds the princess of her promise. The king overhears their conversation (sneaky king!) and tells his daughter to keep her promise at all cost – the king actually makes his daughter sleep with a frog!
After three nights of the same old routine of eating form the same plate and sleeping on the same bed, the frog miraculously transforms into a handsome prince… and the rest is history.
2) The slightly modified version:
In this version the story remains the same until the frog comes to the palace. But in this version, the sight of the ugly frog and the thought of sleeping with him infuriates the princess and she flings the frog across her room. THUD!
Now, the retard psychopathic princess gets back to her senses and realizes she does not want to be a murderer; and she definitely does not want the animal rights activists hounding her. So she apologizes to the poor injured frog and kisses it.
The frog miraculously transforms into the handsome prince and he explains to her about the curse which she just broke. On his way out of her room the king sees them and Ahem! The rest is history.
3) The fairy tale version of the fairy tale:
I hate this version because it has no emotion in it.
It really has no ‘masala’.
And this is the version most of the children today know – which makes me hate it even more.
In this version the princess is this wonderful, loving, generous, meek creature who will do anything for anybody. One fine day while she is taking a stroll she sees this ugly frog weeping near a spring. She asks the frog what is wrong and he tells her he wants to be kissed – wtf!!!
Now since the princess is so wonderful, loving, generous and meek she kisses the ugly frog. The frog transforms into the prince and he asks her to marry him. The princess obviously does not know how to say ‘no’ to anybody so she agrees. The rest is history.
So that was the enlightening bit.
Now for what I deduce from these tales:
I believe the frog here represents an ugly man who is not worth much.
I believe he does not transform into any handsome prince.
I believe after spending three nights with him the princess falls in ‘love’ with him or after kissing him she falls in ‘love’ with him – probably he is amazing kisser.
And once you fall in love even an ugly frog can look like a handsome prince – because according to my very favourite Shakespeare, love is blind.
Hence there is no curse as such
– Unless you consider being born as an ugly, poor man a curse.
The miracle is just love.
Love breaks the barriers of riches and beauty in this tale.
I think my deduction is pretty awesome.
Let me know if you agree.
I am pretty sure all the fairy tales are just twisted forms of reality. This post is going to be about by ‘real’ form of the Frog Prince.
For those of you who do not know the story of the Frog Prince let me enlighten you.
There are three forms of this tale existing that I am aware of. I personally like the Grimm’s version.
1) The Grimm’s version:
It begins with a princess, who is extremely spoilt and all she does all day is play with her ‘golden ball’ by tossing it up and trying to catch it. Since she is a retard, one fine day, she fails to catch it and the ball falls into a spring. There she sits and weeps – again because she is a retard.
Enter hero of our story – the ugly frog.
The smartass frog makes a deal with the retard princess and she agrees to let the frog eat with her, sleep with her and accepts the frog as her true love if the frog gets her ball back. Now the retard princess is pretty shrewd because she has no plans of keeping her promise. And hence, once she gets her ball, she runs back to her palace.
But she forgets, the hero of our story is not just an ugly frog – he is the smartass hero!
So the frog finds his way to the palace and reminds the princess of her promise. The king overhears their conversation (sneaky king!) and tells his daughter to keep her promise at all cost – the king actually makes his daughter sleep with a frog!
After three nights of the same old routine of eating form the same plate and sleeping on the same bed, the frog miraculously transforms into a handsome prince… and the rest is history.
2) The slightly modified version:
In this version the story remains the same until the frog comes to the palace. But in this version, the sight of the ugly frog and the thought of sleeping with him infuriates the princess and she flings the frog across her room. THUD!
Now, the retard psychopathic princess gets back to her senses and realizes she does not want to be a murderer; and she definitely does not want the animal rights activists hounding her. So she apologizes to the poor injured frog and kisses it.
The frog miraculously transforms into the handsome prince and he explains to her about the curse which she just broke. On his way out of her room the king sees them and Ahem! The rest is history.
3) The fairy tale version of the fairy tale:
I hate this version because it has no emotion in it.
It really has no ‘masala’.
And this is the version most of the children today know – which makes me hate it even more.
In this version the princess is this wonderful, loving, generous, meek creature who will do anything for anybody. One fine day while she is taking a stroll she sees this ugly frog weeping near a spring. She asks the frog what is wrong and he tells her he wants to be kissed – wtf!!!
Now since the princess is so wonderful, loving, generous and meek she kisses the ugly frog. The frog transforms into the prince and he asks her to marry him. The princess obviously does not know how to say ‘no’ to anybody so she agrees. The rest is history.
So that was the enlightening bit.
Now for what I deduce from these tales:
I believe the frog here represents an ugly man who is not worth much.
I believe he does not transform into any handsome prince.
I believe after spending three nights with him the princess falls in ‘love’ with him or after kissing him she falls in ‘love’ with him – probably he is amazing kisser.
And once you fall in love even an ugly frog can look like a handsome prince – because according to my very favourite Shakespeare, love is blind.
Hence there is no curse as such
– Unless you consider being born as an ugly, poor man a curse.
The miracle is just love.
Love breaks the barriers of riches and beauty in this tale.
I think my deduction is pretty awesome.
Let me know if you agree.
Then the tag came along
I have been planning on posting about certain specific subjects of interest (MY interest) for quite a few days now. But something or the other just seems to come up.
Now, this tag has come along.
Not that I have anything against tagging but the idea of answering questions about myself does not hold much interest for me.
So this tag is being answered for the ‘pleasure’ of my readers alone.
And for the first time I am posting more for my readers and less for myself – this being a very generous gesture should be acknowledged by all.
A humongous Thank you to Keyzer Soze for tagging me – it is an opportunity to make my blog almost as versatile as yours. But there are no hugs and slaps on the back attached with this thank you! I am going to try answering this tag as much to the point as I can – God help me!
I hope it is not boring.
Here goes:
1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it:
I do not have many scars to boast about. I wish I did though. I have even considered self mutilation for more scars – scars make one look more dangerous.
Of the ones I have here is how I got them:
1) A 5 inch long vertical scar near my left knee:
I was about twelve or thirteen when I got this one. I was into practising acrobatics on my study chair then – which made my chair more of a rocking chair than a study chair. One particular afternoon, I had placed my chair right in between my bed and my cupboard so that I could ‘restrict’ entry into my hiding place. The study chair served as the gate. After I made sure nobody was interested in entering my territory I tried slipping in via the space between the back of my chair and the bed, I did not know there was a nail poking right out of the back of the chair. The more I tried to slip out of the tiny space the worse the wound got. Finally, my mom rescued me – so much for ‘restricting entry’. I was too stubborn to get the wound sutured after getting the tetanus shots. I went for my singing classes the same day and ended up howling rather than singing.
Well, I miss my chair.
2) A 3 inch long horizontal scar on my left shin:
This is a mysterious scar. I was playing around with my uncle and the next thing I know is a stinging pain and unstoppable bleeding. I still wonder how I managed to hurt myself because we were not playing with anything that was sharp enough to cause the wound. This time I was too stubborn to get the sutures AND the tetanus shots. I am glad I did not die of tetanus.
3) A funny looking circular scar on my left knee:
I fell about a year back. I am a klutz. Nobody saw me fall – I think.
4) A curvilinear scar running halfway across my right hand middle finger:
This story has already been blogged about in ‘The middle finger’. In short, it was all thanks to a pedestal fan I tried saying ‘Hello’ to. Four deep stitches, eight superficial stitches, an elephantine dose of anaesthesia, a tetanus shot which immobilized my left arm for 3 days and one month of not being able to use my right hand has taught me to be rude to pedestal fans.
5) A smooth double scar on my scalp:
Now you must be wondering what a double scar is. It is acquired with much effort when there is a pre existing scar and you get a wound almost right on it again.
The first scar was thanks to my super dumb status when I was 3 years old. I still cannot believe I could have been so stupid then.
My mom had left me on a swing and first I tried swinging after letting go of my left hand.
I was quite successful.
Then I tried letting go of my right hand.
I was still successful.
And then, I think, I imagined myself to be Superman.
I let go of both my hands. And to my delight, just like Superman I went flying. I landed with a thud.
Apparently I was quite a brave child and did not wince even once when the ten stitches were sutured into my scalp – I wonder if my then empty skull had anything to do with it.
The wound which made it a double scar was deeper. I was about ten years old and I had committed the grave mistake of tickling my elder sister (along with irritating the hell out of her). And so, she tried tickling me. I am not ticklish. Her efforts at tickling me made me mock her.
I overdid it. I slipped. I fell.
I hit my head at the edge of a table and did not know I had hurt myself until the blood was pouring down my face.
My sisters freaked – they thought I was going to die!!!
Stitches again, this time I had to try real hard not to wince because I had to keep up my image of being the ‘brave girl’ – I tell you living up to others’ expectations really hurts!
I had a birthday party to attend that evening. I loved the attention. I hated looking like an Egyptian mummy.
And hence two head injuries sealed my future of eternal insanity.
Most of the other scars I have painfully attained have faded out.
I really want a scar across my eyebrow – been dreaming of it ever since I was a little girl.
2. What does your phone look like?
I think it looks like a phone. I think you will also think it looks like a phone.
I have three phones as of now – one Nokia 6125 flip which I rarely use, then my college phone a Nokia 6610i and thirdly (my personal favourite) an orange Nokia 1100.
I use them interchangeably according to where I am going, who I am going with and what I feel like carrying with me.
3. What is on the walls of your bedroom?
My hostel room is where I currently stay, so I think ‘my bedroom’ can be considered synonymous to my hostel room.
- The walls are filled with bright pink and green chart paper cut into circles and stuck randomly – some of which have fallen off
- Ten of my favourite birthday cards that I have saved over the years
- A couple of photographs of myself, family and friends over the course of the past ten years.
- Lots of posters some with hot men and some with wild animals on them. And then there is one particular poster with babies that I am not too fond of but got as a birthday gift.
- A couple of inspirational quotes and a couple of funny ones.
- And I hang my innumerable handbags on my wall.
That is about it.
The image in this post has my wall in the background - 'My middle finger'
4. What is your current desktop picture?
Currently it is a black and white picture of my darling, Kurt Cobain and his guitar on a couch.
5. Do you believe in gay marriage?
I believe in following my beliefs. Since I am not gay this puts me in a tough position. I think every gay person should follow his belief and go get married if he/she wants to. I do not believe in it nor do I plan on following it.
6. What do you want more than anything right now?
I want to eat to my hearts content.
I want to sleep until I no longer feel sleepy.
I want peace of mind.
I want to find nowhere (more than anything else).
7. What time were you born?
11:50pm on 12th of September 1987.
10. Last person who made you cry?
I was under the overbearing and excessive influence of alcohol. I do not know what or who made me cry. I jus know I was bawling out loud and threatening to murder God.
11. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?
I love all Givenchy perfumes especially Organza Indecence and Extravagance d'Amarige.
12. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like in the opposite sex?
Hair colour – should be salt and pepper. I know it is weird but I love a teeny weeny little bit of grey in otherwise dark hair.
Eye colour – I think I like brown or maybe grey.
13. What are you listening to?
Right now I am listening to ‘Hole in my soul’ – Aerosmith. The last song was ‘Hallelujah’ – Rufus Wainwright. The next song is ‘Rape me’ – Nirvana.
Do not be judgemental.
I love my music – if you don’t it is your fault, not mine.
14. Do you get scared of the dark?
Until my eyes get accustomed to the darkness I feel uncomfortable, not scared though. I was never scared of the dark, even as a child. I do not like the idea of not being able to see and having to feel my way around in the dark though. I have an awesome sense of smell and hearing which certainly helps– I think the credit goes to my high myopic eyes.
15. Do you like painkillers?
Painkillers are usually associated with pain, so I am not sure if I like them.
I like the colour of Brufen.
I had to take suppository painkillers around five years ago – it goes without saying what I felt about them. They gave me a real tough time; it was way better bearing the pain than shoving those slippery tiny rockets up my ass.
I have had Tramadol (an opiate derivative) twice in my life. The first time was quite a trip but the second, unfortunately, did not have any of its usual ‘much-looked-forward-to’ effect.
16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
No, I am not.
I have never been.
I don’t think I ever will be.
17. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
This will be a never ending answer if I try too hard to answer it.
Right at this very moment, I feel like having a Mc chicken along with one of those yummy apple pies from Mc Donalds.
18. Who was the last person who made you mad?
Not a person – My university examinations did drive me mad though.
I was angry at the world. I was angry at myself. I was so angry at everyone.
I am glad they are done with.
19. Who was the last person who made you smile?
The last person who made me smile, I think, was the same person who tagged me. Something he said a while ago made me smile, I can’t remember what exactly.
Food always makes me smile by the way!
And hence I complete this task!
It has been a very long and tedious process.
I tag Genesis of Oblivion – I want to know how much more similar we can get!
Now, this tag has come along.
Not that I have anything against tagging but the idea of answering questions about myself does not hold much interest for me.
So this tag is being answered for the ‘pleasure’ of my readers alone.
And for the first time I am posting more for my readers and less for myself – this being a very generous gesture should be acknowledged by all.
A humongous Thank you to Keyzer Soze for tagging me – it is an opportunity to make my blog almost as versatile as yours. But there are no hugs and slaps on the back attached with this thank you! I am going to try answering this tag as much to the point as I can – God help me!
I hope it is not boring.
Here goes:
1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it:
I do not have many scars to boast about. I wish I did though. I have even considered self mutilation for more scars – scars make one look more dangerous.
Of the ones I have here is how I got them:
1) A 5 inch long vertical scar near my left knee:
I was about twelve or thirteen when I got this one. I was into practising acrobatics on my study chair then – which made my chair more of a rocking chair than a study chair. One particular afternoon, I had placed my chair right in between my bed and my cupboard so that I could ‘restrict’ entry into my hiding place. The study chair served as the gate. After I made sure nobody was interested in entering my territory I tried slipping in via the space between the back of my chair and the bed, I did not know there was a nail poking right out of the back of the chair. The more I tried to slip out of the tiny space the worse the wound got. Finally, my mom rescued me – so much for ‘restricting entry’. I was too stubborn to get the wound sutured after getting the tetanus shots. I went for my singing classes the same day and ended up howling rather than singing.
Well, I miss my chair.
2) A 3 inch long horizontal scar on my left shin:
This is a mysterious scar. I was playing around with my uncle and the next thing I know is a stinging pain and unstoppable bleeding. I still wonder how I managed to hurt myself because we were not playing with anything that was sharp enough to cause the wound. This time I was too stubborn to get the sutures AND the tetanus shots. I am glad I did not die of tetanus.
3) A funny looking circular scar on my left knee:
I fell about a year back. I am a klutz. Nobody saw me fall – I think.
4) A curvilinear scar running halfway across my right hand middle finger:
This story has already been blogged about in ‘The middle finger’. In short, it was all thanks to a pedestal fan I tried saying ‘Hello’ to. Four deep stitches, eight superficial stitches, an elephantine dose of anaesthesia, a tetanus shot which immobilized my left arm for 3 days and one month of not being able to use my right hand has taught me to be rude to pedestal fans.
5) A smooth double scar on my scalp:
Now you must be wondering what a double scar is. It is acquired with much effort when there is a pre existing scar and you get a wound almost right on it again.
The first scar was thanks to my super dumb status when I was 3 years old. I still cannot believe I could have been so stupid then.
My mom had left me on a swing and first I tried swinging after letting go of my left hand.
I was quite successful.
Then I tried letting go of my right hand.
I was still successful.
And then, I think, I imagined myself to be Superman.
I let go of both my hands. And to my delight, just like Superman I went flying. I landed with a thud.
Apparently I was quite a brave child and did not wince even once when the ten stitches were sutured into my scalp – I wonder if my then empty skull had anything to do with it.
The wound which made it a double scar was deeper. I was about ten years old and I had committed the grave mistake of tickling my elder sister (along with irritating the hell out of her). And so, she tried tickling me. I am not ticklish. Her efforts at tickling me made me mock her.
I overdid it. I slipped. I fell.
I hit my head at the edge of a table and did not know I had hurt myself until the blood was pouring down my face.
My sisters freaked – they thought I was going to die!!!
Stitches again, this time I had to try real hard not to wince because I had to keep up my image of being the ‘brave girl’ – I tell you living up to others’ expectations really hurts!
I had a birthday party to attend that evening. I loved the attention. I hated looking like an Egyptian mummy.
And hence two head injuries sealed my future of eternal insanity.
Most of the other scars I have painfully attained have faded out.
I really want a scar across my eyebrow – been dreaming of it ever since I was a little girl.
2. What does your phone look like?
I think it looks like a phone. I think you will also think it looks like a phone.
I have three phones as of now – one Nokia 6125 flip which I rarely use, then my college phone a Nokia 6610i and thirdly (my personal favourite) an orange Nokia 1100.
I use them interchangeably according to where I am going, who I am going with and what I feel like carrying with me.
3. What is on the walls of your bedroom?
My hostel room is where I currently stay, so I think ‘my bedroom’ can be considered synonymous to my hostel room.
- The walls are filled with bright pink and green chart paper cut into circles and stuck randomly – some of which have fallen off
- Ten of my favourite birthday cards that I have saved over the years
- A couple of photographs of myself, family and friends over the course of the past ten years.
- Lots of posters some with hot men and some with wild animals on them. And then there is one particular poster with babies that I am not too fond of but got as a birthday gift.
- A couple of inspirational quotes and a couple of funny ones.
- And I hang my innumerable handbags on my wall.
That is about it.
The image in this post has my wall in the background - 'My middle finger'
4. What is your current desktop picture?
Currently it is a black and white picture of my darling, Kurt Cobain and his guitar on a couch.
5. Do you believe in gay marriage?
I believe in following my beliefs. Since I am not gay this puts me in a tough position. I think every gay person should follow his belief and go get married if he/she wants to. I do not believe in it nor do I plan on following it.
6. What do you want more than anything right now?
I want to eat to my hearts content.
I want to sleep until I no longer feel sleepy.
I want peace of mind.
I want to find nowhere (more than anything else).
7. What time were you born?
11:50pm on 12th of September 1987.
10. Last person who made you cry?
I was under the overbearing and excessive influence of alcohol. I do not know what or who made me cry. I jus know I was bawling out loud and threatening to murder God.
11. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?
I love all Givenchy perfumes especially Organza Indecence and Extravagance d'Amarige.
12. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like in the opposite sex?
Hair colour – should be salt and pepper. I know it is weird but I love a teeny weeny little bit of grey in otherwise dark hair.
Eye colour – I think I like brown or maybe grey.
13. What are you listening to?
Right now I am listening to ‘Hole in my soul’ – Aerosmith. The last song was ‘Hallelujah’ – Rufus Wainwright. The next song is ‘Rape me’ – Nirvana.
Do not be judgemental.
I love my music – if you don’t it is your fault, not mine.
14. Do you get scared of the dark?
Until my eyes get accustomed to the darkness I feel uncomfortable, not scared though. I was never scared of the dark, even as a child. I do not like the idea of not being able to see and having to feel my way around in the dark though. I have an awesome sense of smell and hearing which certainly helps– I think the credit goes to my high myopic eyes.
15. Do you like painkillers?
Painkillers are usually associated with pain, so I am not sure if I like them.
I like the colour of Brufen.
I had to take suppository painkillers around five years ago – it goes without saying what I felt about them. They gave me a real tough time; it was way better bearing the pain than shoving those slippery tiny rockets up my ass.
I have had Tramadol (an opiate derivative) twice in my life. The first time was quite a trip but the second, unfortunately, did not have any of its usual ‘much-looked-forward-to’ effect.
16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
No, I am not.
I have never been.
I don’t think I ever will be.
17. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
This will be a never ending answer if I try too hard to answer it.
Right at this very moment, I feel like having a Mc chicken along with one of those yummy apple pies from Mc Donalds.
18. Who was the last person who made you mad?
Not a person – My university examinations did drive me mad though.
I was angry at the world. I was angry at myself. I was so angry at everyone.
I am glad they are done with.
19. Who was the last person who made you smile?
The last person who made me smile, I think, was the same person who tagged me. Something he said a while ago made me smile, I can’t remember what exactly.
Food always makes me smile by the way!
And hence I complete this task!
It has been a very long and tedious process.
I tag Genesis of Oblivion – I want to know how much more similar we can get!
Sunday, 28 December 2008
Three days
Thanks to the remarkable advances in the means of communication today, many a times one tends to know better about people he has never met in his life than about the person he lives with.
I am good friends with quite a few people I have never met; some of them I do not plan on meeting - ever, while some of them I look forward to meet.
I spend four days at my hometown in India recently.
It was wonderful to be home.
I usually get bored easily at home, but this time it was different – I always found myself in a position where I had something to do, somewhere to be, someone to meet…
This post is about the time I spend with Mr S, from my point of view.
I wonder if he will post his point of view.
Day 0
This is the day I left Mangalore – destination Trivandrum.
I did not sleep the whole night, was busy cleaning up the post examination mess, packing and most importantly partying.
I had breakfast which did manage to make me momentarily happy until I remembered the ‘waiting list’ status of my 16 hour train journey and the impending trekking trip hunting for a pair of trousers for my brother in law as an anniversary gift in a shop located right in the middle of an extremely disorganised construction site.
The trekking trip was not fun – thanks to the extreme difficulty I was facing trying to keep my sleepy eyes open.
The waiting list status became an RAC seat.
I had no idea what that meant until my friend explained RAC meant I was supposed to share the lower side berth with a stranger.
The journey was almost uneventful except for the fact that I was surrounded by under-fives. There were six babies in my bogey – and I am not exaggerating.
Sometimes I really wonder if there is someone up there trying to teach me a lesson.
I hate babies more today, if that is possible.
Day 1
I reached Trivandrum at 5:30 in the morning – sleepy but mentally as sound as I can be expected to be.
I was supposed to meet S at nine thirty, but my being human led me to sleep till ten thirty. I met him at eleven.
I realised the following:
- Photos can lie, but not much.
- It is not easy to make a conversation in person.
- People sound different in person.
- I hate silence.
- Jobless girls waiting for hours at ice cream parlours for their dates to arrive distract men who do not have the power to make conversation with a friend they know for the last six months.
- Not everyone likes eating ice creams from cones – I did not know that!!!
- I hate being aware of someone judging every action of mine, makes me self conscious and I freeze.
- Tastes in music can differ to the point that the argument can never be settled – ever.
It was quite enlightening.
So I met S again in the evening.
This time we went to a lighthouse.
I realised the following:
- Impressions made on first meetings can be wrong.
- With time the conversation becomes easy.
- It irritates men to have to walk 200m due to lack of parking space.
- It is difficult to climb a ladder with a bottle of water in one hand.
- I am STILL scared of heights.
- The fear of heights can be overcome with the help of scenic beauty.
- I love letting my feet dangle, sitting on top of a lighthouse.
- Silence is not so bad after all.
- The water sparkles more just before sunset.
- There are people alike me who enjoy making faces for photographs.
- Climbing down a ladder is easier than climbing up one with a bottle in one hand.
- Pre planning sucks.
- The first meeting may very well seem like not the first meeting.
- Light houses are beautiful, awesome, amazing, lovely, marvellous places.
- Traffic in Trivandrum can be a real pain thanks to people deciding to celebrate God-alone-knows-what (not Christmas) on the roads.
- Returning home late on the first day back can also be a pain.
Day 2
Next we met on Christmas. Christmas eve was spend hogging with cousins and family. S came home and stayed home for more than 4 hours before we decided to go to the zoo.
I realised the following:
- My mother can talk for hours with friends of mine with whom I have difficulty carrying on a decent conversation.
- My sister has inherited the same trait from my mother.
- It takes time to decide where to go out to in Trivandrum because there are very few places that may serve to be interesting.
- My house can be interesting.
- The art gallery in Trivandrum is awesome.
- I appreciate art – I did not know that.
- The zoo is humongous; even if you are walking at a brisk pace it takes more than half an hour to see the whole place.
- I am not fond of birds and primates; there are other people like me.
- The King cobra in the zoo looks like a dark python and moves at a pace of a sloth.
- I am fond of snakes and reptiles.
- Lions pee on you if they get angry.
- If S had not tried to be a hero, both of us would have been peed on by a lion.
- I do not like the idea of getting peed on.
- S would love to be peed on by a lion.
- Animals have a tendency to get perturbed by my presence – I wonder why.
- My presence in the zoo was responsible for all the animals being extra active and putting on a good show to all the people who visited the zoo that day.
- The roads are empty on Christmas.
- Reaching back home earlier than what is expected is considered mysterious.
Day 3
This was my last day at Trivandrum. I finished my packing in advance because the shortcomings of sleepless nights due to packing were still fresh in my mind – Day 0.
S and I decided to go grab a bite for brunch. We ended up going to the museum.
I realised the following:
- I am usually fond of museums but not all museums.
- The Trivandrum museum is very disappointing.
- My sense of direction is still at its worst.
- I do not enjoy observing stone idols which are 600 years old.
- I enjoy observing table cloths, trays and ‘royal chairs’ which are hundreds of years old – they really look funny.
- I lose my appetite after a disappointing museum trip.
- Even if the museum is disappointing, the conversation can keep you animate and interested.
- Homes which have been transformed into tiny eat outs are beautiful.
- I love Italian food, even if it is for brunch.
- Pizzas can be dissatisfying and soups can be impressive.
- Not everyone has a horrible sense of direction like me; S always knew the way back home – which was a relief.
- Saying ‘goodbye’ sucks, it is better to say ‘see you later’.
- I had an amazing time at Trivandrum, thanks to a friend I met for the first time three days before my departure.
So next time you are planning on meeting up a friend you have made thanks to the world wide web or other advances in networking – make sure you keep an open mind. The first few hours might seem like hell but then it keeps getting better.
Thank you, Mr S!!!
I am good friends with quite a few people I have never met; some of them I do not plan on meeting - ever, while some of them I look forward to meet.
I spend four days at my hometown in India recently.
It was wonderful to be home.
I usually get bored easily at home, but this time it was different – I always found myself in a position where I had something to do, somewhere to be, someone to meet…
This post is about the time I spend with Mr S, from my point of view.
I wonder if he will post his point of view.
Day 0
This is the day I left Mangalore – destination Trivandrum.
I did not sleep the whole night, was busy cleaning up the post examination mess, packing and most importantly partying.
I had breakfast which did manage to make me momentarily happy until I remembered the ‘waiting list’ status of my 16 hour train journey and the impending trekking trip hunting for a pair of trousers for my brother in law as an anniversary gift in a shop located right in the middle of an extremely disorganised construction site.
The trekking trip was not fun – thanks to the extreme difficulty I was facing trying to keep my sleepy eyes open.
The waiting list status became an RAC seat.
I had no idea what that meant until my friend explained RAC meant I was supposed to share the lower side berth with a stranger.
The journey was almost uneventful except for the fact that I was surrounded by under-fives. There were six babies in my bogey – and I am not exaggerating.
Sometimes I really wonder if there is someone up there trying to teach me a lesson.
I hate babies more today, if that is possible.
Day 1
I reached Trivandrum at 5:30 in the morning – sleepy but mentally as sound as I can be expected to be.
I was supposed to meet S at nine thirty, but my being human led me to sleep till ten thirty. I met him at eleven.
I realised the following:
- Photos can lie, but not much.
- It is not easy to make a conversation in person.
- People sound different in person.
- I hate silence.
- Jobless girls waiting for hours at ice cream parlours for their dates to arrive distract men who do not have the power to make conversation with a friend they know for the last six months.
- Not everyone likes eating ice creams from cones – I did not know that!!!
- I hate being aware of someone judging every action of mine, makes me self conscious and I freeze.
- Tastes in music can differ to the point that the argument can never be settled – ever.
It was quite enlightening.
So I met S again in the evening.
This time we went to a lighthouse.
I realised the following:
- Impressions made on first meetings can be wrong.
- With time the conversation becomes easy.
- It irritates men to have to walk 200m due to lack of parking space.
- It is difficult to climb a ladder with a bottle of water in one hand.
- I am STILL scared of heights.
- The fear of heights can be overcome with the help of scenic beauty.
- I love letting my feet dangle, sitting on top of a lighthouse.
- Silence is not so bad after all.
- The water sparkles more just before sunset.
- There are people alike me who enjoy making faces for photographs.
- Climbing down a ladder is easier than climbing up one with a bottle in one hand.
- Pre planning sucks.
- The first meeting may very well seem like not the first meeting.
- Light houses are beautiful, awesome, amazing, lovely, marvellous places.
- Traffic in Trivandrum can be a real pain thanks to people deciding to celebrate God-alone-knows-what (not Christmas) on the roads.
- Returning home late on the first day back can also be a pain.
Day 2
Next we met on Christmas. Christmas eve was spend hogging with cousins and family. S came home and stayed home for more than 4 hours before we decided to go to the zoo.
I realised the following:
- My mother can talk for hours with friends of mine with whom I have difficulty carrying on a decent conversation.
- My sister has inherited the same trait from my mother.
- It takes time to decide where to go out to in Trivandrum because there are very few places that may serve to be interesting.
- My house can be interesting.
- The art gallery in Trivandrum is awesome.
- I appreciate art – I did not know that.
- The zoo is humongous; even if you are walking at a brisk pace it takes more than half an hour to see the whole place.
- I am not fond of birds and primates; there are other people like me.
- The King cobra in the zoo looks like a dark python and moves at a pace of a sloth.
- I am fond of snakes and reptiles.
- Lions pee on you if they get angry.
- If S had not tried to be a hero, both of us would have been peed on by a lion.
- I do not like the idea of getting peed on.
- S would love to be peed on by a lion.
- Animals have a tendency to get perturbed by my presence – I wonder why.
- My presence in the zoo was responsible for all the animals being extra active and putting on a good show to all the people who visited the zoo that day.
- The roads are empty on Christmas.
- Reaching back home earlier than what is expected is considered mysterious.
Day 3
This was my last day at Trivandrum. I finished my packing in advance because the shortcomings of sleepless nights due to packing were still fresh in my mind – Day 0.
S and I decided to go grab a bite for brunch. We ended up going to the museum.
I realised the following:
- I am usually fond of museums but not all museums.
- The Trivandrum museum is very disappointing.
- My sense of direction is still at its worst.
- I do not enjoy observing stone idols which are 600 years old.
- I enjoy observing table cloths, trays and ‘royal chairs’ which are hundreds of years old – they really look funny.
- I lose my appetite after a disappointing museum trip.
- Even if the museum is disappointing, the conversation can keep you animate and interested.
- Homes which have been transformed into tiny eat outs are beautiful.
- I love Italian food, even if it is for brunch.
- Pizzas can be dissatisfying and soups can be impressive.
- Not everyone has a horrible sense of direction like me; S always knew the way back home – which was a relief.
- Saying ‘goodbye’ sucks, it is better to say ‘see you later’.
- I had an amazing time at Trivandrum, thanks to a friend I met for the first time three days before my departure.
So next time you are planning on meeting up a friend you have made thanks to the world wide web or other advances in networking – make sure you keep an open mind. The first few hours might seem like hell but then it keeps getting better.
Thank you, Mr S!!!
Community Medicine
I have been ‘expected’ to study Community Medicine since my first year of MBBS.
Community Medicine, also known as Social and Preventive Medicine or Preventive and Social Medicine is basically everything under the sun.
- We are expected to know about all the diseases in the world – Their significance, prevalence, symptoms, management, prevention. Basically, almost everything about the diseases is ‘within curriculum’.
- We are expected know all about pollution, noise control, measuring humidity, temperature, environment and all its influence.
- We are expected to know about all the insects that can spread any disease known to man. Their morphology, how many legs they have, how many pairs of eyes they have, how we can differentiate them from some other unheard of insect. And as far as their names are concerned – it is Greek and Latin – and I mean it, quite literally.
- We are expected to know how high the roof of a factory is supposed to be, the measurements of a sanitary toilet, the requirements of a sanitary well, how to build wells, how much chlorine to add to purify water and what pesticide has what effect on which pest.
- We are supposed to know the nutritional requirements of every age group and every sex (male/female/in betweens). We are supposed to know the amount of calories in all sorts of food items – half of which I haven’t even heard of. Pulses, fruits, vegetables rich in particular vitamins and minerals, of which we are supposed to know those that are cheap and those that are not cheap!!
- All sorts of national programmes that have been implemented for the prevention and control of every disease in the world, when it was implemented, its objectives, who it caters to and what it has achieved till date – which is usually nothing much.
- Every organisation that is working for the betterment of the human species, what they have done, who they have collaborated with and why they do what they do not actually do.
Community Medicine is not an easy subject.
I like the subject though.
We are expected to learn from a book written by a very learned lady, Dr. Park.
It is an amazing book. It puts me to sleep sometimes, but I think she has done an awesome job with a subject like Community Medicine.
Now this post is not about the subject. It is about my university exam which I gave on December 5th.
I tried cleaning my room on the 3rd of December and then forgot to dry my hair after a shower – this in my world means sure shot monster cold.
Monster cold struck on 4th December. I had miraculously run short of my cetrizine supplies. Cetrizine is my sole hope for survival, my hero in times of distressing leaky nose. At eight in the evening I decided I was fighting a losing battle and got a couple of tablets of a first generation anti histamine – which has proven sedative effects.
I have a very weird system.
Sedatives don’t really work on me.
I have to be given elephantine doses of anaesthetics for them to take effect – which is quite a pain – again, literally.
So while taking the anti histamine the sedative effects were the least of my concerns, even considering that I had finished reading only one chapter for my exam the next day. Half an hour and the words seem to be blurring.
I wake up at four in the morning – my elder sister’s extreme concern about the exam I was supposed to give the next day irritated my beautiful slumber. I learnt the next day that I told her I had actually charted out a time table and was timing each page – Yes; I have the uncanny ability to lie believably ONLY when I am asleep.
At eight in the morning, after almost twelve hours of deep, dreamless sleep, I woke up – sneezing.
I still had the freaking cold.
I had an exam to write in two hours time.
And I had read one chapter.
I had read that one chapter pretty well though, but considering it contributed only four marks out of sixty I had every reason to freak out.
And so, I freaked.
After half an hour of freaking which includes cracking my knuckles a million times, biting my already cut nails, walking back and forth like a mad woman and screaming out in a language I do not understand myself; I calmed down.
I had breakfast.
I read two random pages from the text which has around 750 pages and got dressed.
On the way, while walking towards the college examination hall my friend tried to teach me.
Most of the questions were totally unexpected according to those students who spend 23 hours 59 minutes and 59 seconds of every day slogging.
I could not have been happier.
I am not a sadist – but I cannot imagine what I would have done to myself had I sat up all night and studied to attempt an ‘unexpected’ paper.
The prayers and the good luck worked.
Thankyou!
Community Medicine, also known as Social and Preventive Medicine or Preventive and Social Medicine is basically everything under the sun.
- We are expected to know about all the diseases in the world – Their significance, prevalence, symptoms, management, prevention. Basically, almost everything about the diseases is ‘within curriculum’.
- We are expected know all about pollution, noise control, measuring humidity, temperature, environment and all its influence.
- We are expected to know about all the insects that can spread any disease known to man. Their morphology, how many legs they have, how many pairs of eyes they have, how we can differentiate them from some other unheard of insect. And as far as their names are concerned – it is Greek and Latin – and I mean it, quite literally.
- We are expected to know how high the roof of a factory is supposed to be, the measurements of a sanitary toilet, the requirements of a sanitary well, how to build wells, how much chlorine to add to purify water and what pesticide has what effect on which pest.
- We are supposed to know the nutritional requirements of every age group and every sex (male/female/in betweens). We are supposed to know the amount of calories in all sorts of food items – half of which I haven’t even heard of. Pulses, fruits, vegetables rich in particular vitamins and minerals, of which we are supposed to know those that are cheap and those that are not cheap!!
- All sorts of national programmes that have been implemented for the prevention and control of every disease in the world, when it was implemented, its objectives, who it caters to and what it has achieved till date – which is usually nothing much.
- Every organisation that is working for the betterment of the human species, what they have done, who they have collaborated with and why they do what they do not actually do.
Community Medicine is not an easy subject.
I like the subject though.
We are expected to learn from a book written by a very learned lady, Dr. Park.
It is an amazing book. It puts me to sleep sometimes, but I think she has done an awesome job with a subject like Community Medicine.
Now this post is not about the subject. It is about my university exam which I gave on December 5th.
I tried cleaning my room on the 3rd of December and then forgot to dry my hair after a shower – this in my world means sure shot monster cold.
Monster cold struck on 4th December. I had miraculously run short of my cetrizine supplies. Cetrizine is my sole hope for survival, my hero in times of distressing leaky nose. At eight in the evening I decided I was fighting a losing battle and got a couple of tablets of a first generation anti histamine – which has proven sedative effects.
I have a very weird system.
Sedatives don’t really work on me.
I have to be given elephantine doses of anaesthetics for them to take effect – which is quite a pain – again, literally.
So while taking the anti histamine the sedative effects were the least of my concerns, even considering that I had finished reading only one chapter for my exam the next day. Half an hour and the words seem to be blurring.
I wake up at four in the morning – my elder sister’s extreme concern about the exam I was supposed to give the next day irritated my beautiful slumber. I learnt the next day that I told her I had actually charted out a time table and was timing each page – Yes; I have the uncanny ability to lie believably ONLY when I am asleep.
At eight in the morning, after almost twelve hours of deep, dreamless sleep, I woke up – sneezing.
I still had the freaking cold.
I had an exam to write in two hours time.
And I had read one chapter.
I had read that one chapter pretty well though, but considering it contributed only four marks out of sixty I had every reason to freak out.
And so, I freaked.
After half an hour of freaking which includes cracking my knuckles a million times, biting my already cut nails, walking back and forth like a mad woman and screaming out in a language I do not understand myself; I calmed down.
I had breakfast.
I read two random pages from the text which has around 750 pages and got dressed.
On the way, while walking towards the college examination hall my friend tried to teach me.
Most of the questions were totally unexpected according to those students who spend 23 hours 59 minutes and 59 seconds of every day slogging.
I could not have been happier.
I am not a sadist – but I cannot imagine what I would have done to myself had I sat up all night and studied to attempt an ‘unexpected’ paper.
The prayers and the good luck worked.
Thankyou!
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