Lost in Strange New World. Chapter Two: Chicago

*clears throat*
Let me begin by apologizing for disappearing – again. While some (read – one) of my loyal followers kept begging me to blog again, some critical followers (read – one) told me it is best I quit because I suck at it anyway. The loyal follower did not really count – being my sister the least she could do was encourage me in my futile attempt at wit. But then nor did the critical follower – being the most cynical self proclaimed genius, it was obviously refined jealousy at my ingenuity. The fact that nobody else cared counted though. So here I am frustrated at the lack of encouragement from you – Yeah YOU.

So I was supposed to finish this scientific paper in August … 2011, I have not yet. Though blogging makes me super guilty about that I decided it is time, because enlightenment cannot wait and the ideas were just over flowing. I am going to pick up right where I left off. After Baltimore next stop was Chicago. And Chicago in the summer is just a festival by itself. But this blog is not about how wonderful Chicago is because you can get that at any travel website and they sure do use a lot better adjectives than my mere “wonderful”.

As you might know (note: sarcasm) from one of my ancient posts I get lost at every excuse I can get to get lost. My sense of direction is way worse than a hamster running on one of those stupid wheels. If I were a hamster believe me I would get lost on one of those wheels. So here I was, absolutely alone in the big city of Chicago and I decided to walk to work every day. Now why would I do that? Because I was armed with the best weapon a person like me can have – a GPS app in my phone! ... Or so I thought.

First day: I decided to get something to eat. So armed with my new weapon I stepped out into the strange new world with a mission to accomplish. My GPS helped me find a Subway, KFC and a White Castle right at the end of my lane. Though the ‘White Castle at my doorstep scenario’ would have made life much easier for Harold and Kumar, it did not work for me – I was neither high on pot nor drunk and it was 10:00 am. I decided I needed to cook and decided to find the nearest grocery. My GPS first led me to a huge area of nothing but rubble which was supposed to be a supermarket – either the supermarket was demolished last night with no time for my GPS to update it or Superman decided to fart on it this morning. Walking to the next grocery, led by my GPS again, I found a decent place. And this made me super excited because for the first time in my life I actually found a place I needed to get to. Extremely content with myself and my weapon – I returned home, weapon in hand and mission accomplished.

First day of work: Thanks to the success story of the previous day it was only obvious why I would feel so confident on my way walking to my first day of work. I walked about 2 miles and finally reached my place of work (with a little assistance from a very helpful, good looking guy who went out of his way to find me my place inside the campus). This just could not get any better.
I walked back home. Somehow I walked 3 miles though. And I passed some Home for homeless which I was pretty sure I did not pass on my way to work. But all is well that ends well.

Second day of work: I reached much earlier than I thought I would, walking 1.5 miles. The places I passed seemed unfamiliar somehow. Three possibilities:
1) I was really not being observant any longer walking on my way to work – which was not very smart of me, and I like to believe I am … smart.
2) I was in magic land where places and streets changed everyday – which would make my life without a GPS impossible!
3) I was still managing to get lost. The sheer horror of it was unfathomable.

Third day of work: I reached late. I walked 4.5 miles and reached looking like a pig after a marathon. And I passed the FBI headquarters on my way. Now being the ex-X files-cum- Hannibal/Clarice fanatic and mischievous brat that I was, I was absolutely sure this had not happened before – I would have tried something stupid – Like telling him I was Agent Dana Scully, I just had plastic surgery which is why I don’t look like her any longer and he had to let me in; or that he looks just like Agent Fox Mulder and ask him when he was demoted into becoming a security guard; or tell him Dr Hannibal Lecter ate my face again and that is why Agent Clarice Starling keeps changing faces from that of Jodie Foster to that of Julianne Moore to now mine or maybe just make a silly face and run. But I hadn’t, and on that particular day I was too mortified at me managing to get lost and being late for work to consider being the mischievous brat I was.
My colleague understanding the pitiful and distressing situation I was in decided to help me out and dropped me back home. We reached VERY quickly. Apparently I lived no more than 0.8 miles away from work. All I had to do was walk straight on Taylor Street. Armed with this information I decided to try again.

Fourth day of work: I walked straight and reached. 0.8 miles it was – in a completely unseen route.
So on my way back from work I decided follow the same route with the help of my GPS. The fact that I had a familiar face about 30 metres behind me was somehow comforting. Everything was going perfectly well until I decided to tie my laces round a corner. The GPS instructed me to take a left – I did like a good little girl following mommy’s orders, I walked till the end of the lane and it instructed me to take a left – I did. Walking till the end of the lane, it instructed me to take a left AGAIN – and that is when it dawned on me – I was going around a block; I had two options walk back half the way around the block to where I tied my laces or follow the GPS take a left and walk to where I tied my laces. The GPS was realigning itself with every stop I made, with every time I turned a side or took a step forward at a corner. Stupid “secret weapon” did not understand that humans unlike cars can walk a step back and do not need to go around a block. I truly don’t understand how machines can ever get smarter than humans – They are so illogical. Humans are illogical only when emotions cloud minds. Machines are illogical all the time and with no good reason. Getting lost on my own was forgivable but getting lost with a GPS in hand was a new low for me that needed getting used to.
Disheartened at the total disappointment my GPS was, I followed my GPS one last time and the familiar face was ten steps ahead of me. He looked back and asked me if I was going around in circles.

Sheepishly grinning I said – “like always.”

Strange New World. Chapter One: Baltimore

Many of you already know but for those who don’t - adventurous me has been planning a whole new adventure for the past 6 months – which has kept me busy enough to keep me from blogging, socializing and being the human that I usually am.

The adventure in question was travelling half way around the world and go all over the country for half a year in the name of education - hence get financed by my cutie-pie Dad.

I am not going into the nitty-gritty of how I planned and planned till I dropped or how everything worked out or how excited I was when things did work out – as those things are meant for educational blogs and the other usual kind of blogs explaining how to succeed in life and the sort. I am not the sort who makes life easier for people just because they are lazy – so move on to some other blog (which I am sure there are plenty of) for such details. Mine is an enlightening blog where you learn stuff you could never learn anywhere else and that is why I have 38 followers even though I have posted just 10 posts in the past one year (Love you guys!). Hence I begin from the time I took my first step on the soil of United States of America – not in the hopes of achieving the American dream someday like every other immigrant taking their first step in U.S.A, but in the hopes of making this an experience worth killing for if not worth dying for.

JFK International airport, New York - I just kept repeating in my mind “New York, New York, New York” until I could get accustomed to the fact that the 14 hour HELL of a flight did finally get me to New York. Exit Flight and I literally screamed out New York – No, not due to excitement – It was so freaking unexpectedly cold that my mind decided to speak up. Have you seen that Russell Peter video in which he talks about the guy who farts in front of every plane that lands in India? Well, let me tell you something he did not say – in U.S.A you enter a blast freezer every time you exit a flight. It was supposed to be spring for crying out loud! After the dueling port of entry interview – where they determine whether you’re a terrorist by staring deep into your eyes for 10 seconds (which I passed with flying colours even though I was itching to stick my tongue out or make funny faces during the ‘duel’) I entered New York – and it was snowing – in spring. No jacket, no gloves and no scarf – I felt like a frozen chicken carrying three heavy bags. Cab ride to Penn station and until we reached Manhattan I thought I was in depressing, disgusting Mumbai (no offence) and then it happened. Empire State building came into sight, I realized the Persian taxi driver was playing loud trance music and we passed through Times Square, Fifth Avenue and all the heavenly places I have so far seen only sitting inside a cab – thanks to the weather. Train to Baltimore - on time, eventless and blah.

Jump forward a few days –during which adequate measures were taken to keep warm. My friend and I decide to explore the neighborhood of the best hospital in the whole wide world – Johns Hopkins, baby!!! – And for all those who think it is Harvard – you’re wrong.

All those House MD episodes when I wished I could be more like him and attend Johns Hopkins too – sigh – dreams come true! Classes were so good we felt like we would be Nobel Prize laureates had we graduated from here. For the first time things that never made any sense made sense – if that makes any sense. Everywhere we went – even when we were downtown shopping for groceries we had our Johns Hopkins IDs on – that is what visiting medical students do when in Johns Hopkins! We got ourselves Johns Hopkins sweatshirts and caps and mugs and everything money could buy. We were Johns Hopkins students and full of it – even if it were only for 3 months. For those of you who don’t understand, I have two words – Sour grapes.

Two months done and there begins hot, hot summer. I was born and raised in Dubai – so I used to consider myself well acclimatized to heat. But heat in U.S.A is unbearable! It is bright, hot, sweaty, sticky and I have to walk all the time! Unbearable. And I was hoping all this time that it would just get warmer! In addition to all this torture of summer you have to deal with half naked people running around or just lazing by in the name of getting a tan – the luxuries of having fair skin. If I did that I would look like a piece of charcoal, if I don’t look it already. But there was always something to smile about – if nothing, just reminding yourself of being in Johns Hopkins.

In between trying to save money, sketchy neighborhoods, eating cheap Chinese food, dealing with a frustrating landlord, cooking Mom’s recipes and cleaning bathrooms there were fun times like taking long walks to no particular place at 8:00 pm when it is bright and sunny, taking pictures of ALL sorts of people in Fell’s point, visiting Edgar Alan Poe’s grave, subway-delicious-subway, starbucks-heavenly-starbucks, rowing classes(thanks to a friend), sushi bars, awesome crepes, free KFC (thanks to a patriotic fellow Indian in U.S.) and movie nights. Work was not too time consuming or tiring, the hours were so considerate, professors so approachable and people strangely super friendly. The first time a person said ‘Hi! How you doing?’ in the street I almost asked ‘Do I know you?’ But then I remembered Julie Delpy’s dialogue in ‘Before sunset’. And since then you don’t think twice before ‘Im great! How you doing?’ Whoever thought I of all the cynical people in the world would be amicable in a society of super-friendly strangers.

Three months flew by too quickly, and more than anything I know my company helped me have fun, with a little assistance from my considerate work hours. Somehow I just don’t expect the same out of Chapter Two - pessimistic me.

Lessons for enlightenment:
1)There can be years when there is no spring – like 2011.
2)Make sure you have good company during your first month or be extremely good at making friends fast.
3)Do not forget - Strangers are super friendly – do not be flabbergasted or rude, I almost was.
4)Try to spend money wisely – the keyword being ‘try’.
5)Take loads of photos, glad I had my friend for that!
6)If you work hard there will be time to party harder.

At the end of Chapter One: Baltimore -
An experience worth killing for if not dying for : Mission Accomplished.

Next up Chapter Two: Chicago.

P.S.: Link at the bottom for commenting – super optimistic me. Sigh.

In rehab and deserving it

Wow!
Almost feels like my first post!

It has been forever since I posted and I realized that when a friend happened to post on the “wall” of a very addictive social network, unaware that I am officially under rehab – FB rehab.

Hence this post
– very appropriate a beginning to another end, if you ask me.

So what is it about facebook anyway?
I generally do not use names but I don’t think Mr Mark Zuckerberg will be much affected by my blog – he must still be wondering why the movie on him didn’t win the Oscar.
Back to bitching about facebook - Pardon the language – the past one year has made me more frustrated at depression than my usual frustrated, depressed self.

Does my friends list represent my friends in real life –HELL NO!

Unfortunately, for one whole month I accepted friend requests from people who shared mutual friends. BIG MISTAKE –because there are people as dumb as and maybe dumber than me who add based on the same stupid criterion.
End result – a horny, non-descript, irritating pervert who has access to my photo albums and has a friends list solely comprising the female gender.

That required cleaning up – which though a tedious process, finally, was very satisfying.

And then began my one month of Applications and games on Facebook. Even though I never went around to Farming, fishing and cooking, I unfortunately did enjoy losing fake money gambling and killing people in the pretext of me being a mafia gangster.
Both of this lead to me adding to my friends list a number of jobless, juvenile, losers; very much like myself, from all over the world, with whom I have not exchanged one word of conversation. I don’t even know their names and yet, there they are on my friends list.

That required cleaning up - after my computer crashed thanks to me trying to buy a multi-million dollar hotel from the money I got from murdering a gangster high up in the hierarchy. Mafia wars cost me two weeks of time on the internet, 4000 Rupees and lots of energy.
Energy saved up for blogging, perhaps.

The friends list cleared and kept in perfect condition, one fine day I just happened to look through people I was at least acquainted with on my friends list and I just realized what a hoax the whole thing is. I just went on to count the number of people I actually talk to. Those who know me know that I don’t talk to many people. I am not a friend who keeps friends - Probably something to do with my inherent laziness.

Anyway, I realized that those who mattered are not on facebook or have deleted me as a friend because of the bitch I have been to them; because friends that matter think facebook is important enough to let others know I am not a friend anymore, but not important enough to keep in contact through.

So here I am with friends in my Facebook who I barely talk to, snooping around in pictures of people I don’t even know, learning about gossip I don’t even want to know, putting up photos after much restriction knowing fully well my family will be viewing them, adding long lost relatives - who I have no idea about - to my friends list because I am obliged to, when I realize somewhere along the way what Mr Mark Zuckerberg wanted out of Facebook (other than the money) was completely lost in my case.

Maybe it is because I am not friendly, maybe it is because I am not sociable enough to enjoy the functioning of a social network, maybe it is because I am being a hypocrite in hating hypocrites because I am as hypocritical as a hypocrite can be, maybe it is because I was bitchy enough to make my friends delete me from their friend list. But whatever it was I was addicted to Facebook and frankly I had no right to be.

Hence I am under rehab.

P.S.: Wishing you all a very belated Happy new year!

P.S.S: In case you are wondering how to comment - it is the light green bubble near the title of the post - and this is the hopeful me hoping that is the reason I have no comments yet.

Commitment coming clean

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sinful fun

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spellbound

I read Les miserables when I was a child. I always thought it was mesmerising - one among the unconquered beauties of literature.
I came across this song very recently though - the lyrics have literally blown me over.
I couldn't have expressed my thoughts in a better way.

I'll blog soon. Sorry to keep all of you waiting.
My excuse - I just got back from my Europe trip!

I DREAMED A DREAM - Les miserables

There was a time when men were kind
When their voices were soft
And their words inviting
There was a time when love was blind
And the world was a song
And the song was exciting
There was a time
Then it all went wrong

I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high
And life worth living
I dreamed that love would never die
I dreamed that God would be forgiving

Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used and wasted
There was no ransom to be paid
No song unsung, no wine untasted

But the tigers come at night
With their voices soft as thunder
As they tear your hopes apart
As they turn your dream to shame

He slept a summer by my side
He filled my days with endless wonder
He took my childhood in his stride
But he was gone when autumn came

And still I dream he'll come to me
And we'll live our lives together
But there are dreams that cannot be!
And there are storms we cannot weather

I had a dream my life would be
So different from this hell I'm living
So different now from what it seemed
Now life has killed the dream I dreamed.

*SIGH*

Nothing short of brilliant

I stumbled across this about a year back. Somehow it slipped my mind then. I came across it again today and I decided to share it. I think it is plain brilliant.

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it?
It makes you so vulnerable.
It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that
someone can get inside you and mess you up.
You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor,
so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different
from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life...
You give them a piece of you.
They didn't ask for it.
They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and
then your life isn't your own anymore.
Love takes hostages.
It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the
darkness, so simple a phrase like 'maybe we should be just friends'
turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart.
It hurts.
Not just in the imagination. Not just in the mind.
It's a soul-hurt, a real gets-inside-you-and-rips-you-apart pain.
I hate love."

- Neil Geiman

Critical criticism

This post is about a new theory I am formulating. So in case you did not like my post on my theory about conquering depression ‘Happily sad’ I shall save your precious time and ask you to read no further.
On second thought, since you are the ones indirectly responsible for me formulating this theory, I would prefer it if you read on.

I have not been blogging regularly for a long time now. The last time I did consider blogging a part of my daily routine was probably a year back. But the number of followers that I still have makes me believe I am still not too bad at it.
One of my recent posts was one in which I had put much thought into. It is very rarely that I can actually control my thought process to derive a conclusion. This particular post was a result of one of such rare phenomenon. Hence it was only human to actually believe that my post was nothing short of incredible. And much to my content many of my friends and followers thought so too. It was after a long time I was actually satisfied with something that I had blogged about. And then someone whose opinion matters a lot to me mentioned how it was quite obviously a terrible post. This is precisely when my theory took birth.

Humans unlike what most people consider do not yearn for praise. On the contrary, I am of the opinion that they yearn for criticism. Until recently I was of the opinion that all man wanted was acceptance into society. But put some thought into it and you will see this could not be further from the truth.

No matter how much praise or lauding a person may acquire a single word of criticism can make him wonder hard about what went wrong. And this, unfortunately, for a perfectionist like me can consume every thought. It does not matter that hundreds of people love what you have created or accomplished, it does not matter that people look up at you, what matters is – one person thought it was nothing short of shit. If criticism was so critical, doesn’t it make one wonder if praise and acceptance are critical at all?

You might argue that without the right amount of praise and positive encouragement eventually a person might give up. But I think without criticism a person will definitely give up trying to do better. Now, addressing the issue about ‘positive’ and ‘negative’ criticism – I am of the opinion that all criticism is clearly positive. It merely depends on how the person in question handles it.

The criticism I received from one person about my post could have been ignored but most people I know would wonder more about it more than about the praise. It is as if we are waiting to be criticized. I could have given up blogging thanks to that person’s point of view – but that is my choice. What course of action I choose to follow is solely my choice. I can either try to get better at what I do or I can give up concluding I cannot outdo myself anymore. The point is criticism is neither ‘positive’ nor ‘negative’. It is the person’s outlook and action that makes it ‘positive’ or ‘negative’.

In conclusion, I would like to state my theory: Humans crave for criticism more than praise because it decides their next step of action. And criticism is neither positive nor negative – it is just a realistic statement that forces one to crash down to reality and wonder which course to take – to try again or to give up.

In short, the critical nature of criticism is often forgotten. It is possibly the most underrated thought evoking form of communication that has ever existed.

My weapon

This post is especially dedicated as a warning to the person who told me my last post ‘sucked like all the rest of them’. I would also like to dedicate it to any frustrated overbearing moron who tries to irritate me in the future.

I am armed and dangerous.

Three days ago I was posted for evening duty. I hate evening duty. It makes me cranky the whole day. The torture of waiting for non existent patients for two whole hours, putting my social life on hold for sitting in a dinghy health centre, walking back to hostel to find all your friends have already made plans excluding you and most of all waiting the whole day for evening posting to begin so that it can come to an end – I really have my reasons for hating evening duty. The day in question was similar. I was cranky the whole day and when my friend offered me a ride back to hostel I thought something was going right – finally. Well, I couldn’t have been more mistaken.

Due to unforeseen circumstances he had to drop me off at a junction which was a five minute walk away from my hostel. I cursed myself for my brilliant decision but decided it isn’t that big a deal since my day had been terrible so far anyway. I decide to call my ‘support system’ for company and Voila! My phone battery is dead. One minute in to the walk and all the streetlamps go off – power cut. So here I am, after an exhaustingly terrible day standing alone in the middle of a ‘notorious’ street in the dark with no phone to call anyone in case of emergency.

As any other person in my shoes would have done I started cursing out loud. I was unsure whether to continue on the walk or to stay put. But a weird idea similar to ‘A rolling stone gathers no moss’ made me decide to walk on with the help of occasional light cast by the headlights of cars zooming by.

Two minutes into the walk and I see the silhouette of a guy walking towards me – very unsteadily. And then I hear him speaking aloud to himself – A drunkard.
When God decides to have fun and enjoy putting you through shit, He makes sure He goes all the way!
I can’t cross the street because suddenly the cars seem to be zooming by faster and the drunkard had very obviously noticed me. That is precisely when my brain started working in amazing ways. I put my hand into my bag and fished out the closest thing to a weapon that I had – My stethoscope.

I start swinging my stethoscope rowdily – and I somehow felt wildly similar to a cowgirl with a lasso. The drunkard in all his stupor must have felt the same because my current ‘avatar’ had made him stop in his tracks. He looked like a mouse cornered. He started looking around for a way out while I was charging in his direction with my stethoscope swinging wildly! With no other choice but death he crosses the busy street clumsily, horns blaring from ever car on the street and I just couldn’t help but laugh.

I had scared a guy using my stethoscope. Whoever would have thought of the stethoscope being such a fearsome weapon? The point is that necessity is the mother of invention.

Now, I always have my stethoscope with me – even when I go to the mall!

Happily sad

I just figured out what is wrong with the world!

Well, there are quite a few things wrong with the world, like females being females and incapable of reproducing without the help of males who are shamefully categorised into the same species as us but… – I sincerely apologize for that burst of emotion. I do not know where that came from. As far as I know myself, I am not a feminist; I hate all sexes alike (for those wondering: male, female and the in-betweens).
I guess today is just one of those ‘anti-men’ day.
Getting back to the point of the post and putting an end to my pointless banter – I figured out what is wrong with the world.

What is wonderful about me figuring out what is wrong with the world is that I also know how to solve the problem! I know you know I am a genius but this time I have really outdone myself. In case you have not figured it out already the root cause of all the problems in the world is in one way or another related to depression. When a person is depressed he not only harms himself, he decreases his productivity and more often than not harms others as well – maybe unintentionally, maybe not.
So this, in short, is what is wrong with the world.
Everybody knows what it is like to be depressed and everybody in their own selfish little way have caused harm to the world thanks to their depression. Figuring out this problem, however, does not need a genius to rack his brains. The real problem lies in solving the problem and not discovering its existence.

Being a doctor (Wow… I love saying that) you would expect me to prescribe a solution as simple as anti depressants to every human in the world. But anti depressants are a sham – they just make the brain squeeze out happy juices so that we tend to mask our depression. But masking depression leads to being depressed about being depressed, hence forming a vicious cycle.
The real solution, however, lies in being happy about being depressed!

I know it may sound weird but put those narrow minds at rest and broaden the horizons of your thoughts. Last night I was talking to a friend and I realized I have been in and out of depression for so long I am no longer depressed about being depressed. And that is when I decided from now on I am going to be happy about being depressed. The power of the mind is so often underestimated. For a determined person, set to solve the most disturbing problem in the world anything is possible.

Hence, at this very moment, I proudly proclaim that I am, indeed, happily depressed.

Being depressed is nothing to be depressed about. It is a part of life – one that makes the world stink. Try and enjoy it because when you do it disappears. So I hereby free you from all those depressing thoughts about depression. Live it, savour it, treat it with the same amount of fervour as you would treat passion and you will learn depression is just a way of life. It has been perceived in the wrong manner for so long that nobody now knows how to deal with it anymore.

So you enlightened few needn’t ever be depressed about being depressed. Go on and be happily sad because there isn’t any better feeling in the world than kicking depression’s ass!

P.S.: My ‘happily sad’ state has moved onto euphoria. Please forgive the nonsense.

My new prefix

It has been four long and happening months.
And that is exactly what this post is about.

December: I went home to study. I sort of tried to study and that is what matters. The month flew by. It is funny how you take small comforts such as homemade food on the table right on time and being woken up by a person rather than a jarring alarm for granted. I attended a wedding too. In short it was like a vacation, the only “tiny” difference being that it was actually my study holidays – but that isn’t much of a difference anyway.

January: I returned to my hostel a couple of days before my Final MBBS universities began – to settle in. I settled in pretty well – me and my friends went shopping and took extremely long coffee breaks.
The exams: It just kept getting worse. And the first exam was just average for me – meaning the details of the last exam is not worth typing down (not to mention how it put me into a never ending state of depression!).
Of all the exams one in particular changed my life – Surgery Practicals. Not only did I call up my sister during the noon break and tell her I am not planning on giving the afternoon session (Thank God I don’t put all my thoughts into action!), I also changed my idea of a dream job. I always wanted to be a plastic surgeon but this exam changed it all – now I have no idea what I want to do in life, again (Applause please!) – I am working on it though, sort of.
The only thing that kept me going during the torture period was the thought of having that much revered prefix to my name in less than a month.

February: I tried my best not to think about the upcoming results and I succeeded quite well. Home was fun, fun and lots of fun. Shopping with my sister for Valentine’s, disasters in the kitchen, getting sloshed with my sister and her husband, late night karaoke sessions made life beautiful again!
During this beautiful period I decided to boost my ego a little bit by taking the TOEFL. And it certainly did. Yours truly managed a score of 118/120 after sleeping through half of the listening section. I don’t mean to brag (*false modest look*) buy how many people do you know who can manage that? So, now I have a brand new reason for you to continue reading my awesome blog – it might help your language skills!!
Results: As always I was late in figuring out that the results were out (even after most of my friends changed their FB statuses to include the newly attached prefix). My results were better than expected (since I expected not to pass!). Anyway, the point is I passed with flying colours and I am, finally, after four and a half years of laziness, procrastination, fun and frolic a DOCTOR (Standing ovation please!)

March: My first month as a doctor was fantabulous. I was posted in a little heard of rural area with nine colleagues and we had a blast. Work was fun and avoiding work was even more fun. Late night walks, bonfires, barbeques and life threatening rock climbing – it was adrenaline all the way. At the end of the month all I could wish for was more of the same.

April: I am back in hostel for my last month in this city. I will be transferring home next month to complete my internship living with my currently lonely, soon to be engaged sister. As of now, work is scarce and boredom rules. I am trying to manage an anorexic look but being a glutton doesn’t really help. Also considering a trip to Amsterdam in the near future and continuing my further education in the U.S. – but that is still being analysed and re-analysed in my ‘Ideas that can change my life for better/worse’ workshop.
That is all that’s happening in my happening life. And with that I come to an end with banter – buckle your seatbelts because I have a few enlightening posts coming up!

Sinner or not

I have a splitting headache.
I am pretty sure it is because of my incurable insomnia (again).
My insomnia is not helping my studies either.
So I am going to try and keep this post short.
More importantly I am going to put my thoughts across – but honestly, from past experience, I do not have any hope whatsoever of doing so.

Today I was giving some thought to the seven deadly sins while I was waiting for God Morpheus to come and bless me with slumber.
This is not the first time I have thought in depth about the seven deadly sins. I have done so quite often ever since the movie Se7en released. But until today it was about why there are seven and what else could be appropriately added on to the list. Today, I wonder what doesn’t fit.

BREAK

Ha! Guess what? This post was supposed to be finished and posted more than four months back. Until some no-respect-for-literary-geniuses-at-work-morons conveniently interrupted my thought process.
Now I shall try and complete this post – the key word in this sentence being ‘try’.

I still have a splitting headache, I still suffer from insomnia and but I do not have any more exams round the corner (posting about that soon!). So I guess the circumstances have not altered much. For those of you who do not know what the seven deadly sins are, the list is as follows:
Sloth
Envy
Pride
Lust
Wrath
Greed
Gluttony

Now this list disturbs me.
And what disturbs me most about this list is (as expected) ‘gluttony’.
I am a glutton.
I love food. And I love food more when I am the one eating it. And like any other glutton more often than always I end up over eating. But this post, unfortunately, is not about my voracious eating habits. Out of the seven sins there are two which make a person happy. And I think these two do not deserve to be among the seven deadly sins.

Sloth leads to unhappiness because you don’t bother to live life and find happiness.
Envy makes one unhappy because you are too busy dwelling in others' happiness.
Pride makes a person, sooner or later, unhappy when demoralising reality strikes.
Wrath is unhappiness directed in a channel of anger and hatred.
Greed is unhappiness because you forget to enjoy the joy in the world and always want more to achieve happiness.

But, gluttony makes a person happy because food is a form of pleasure to a glutton and it never disappoints or destroys his happiness.
And, lust makes a person happy because (no matter what you may deduce about me from this) sex as an act has never caused unhappiness to those who enjoy it.
This is deduced taking into consideration that high cholesterol, hypertension, heart disease and sexually transmitted diseases are preventable with proper measures (ahem!)

I have given much thought to this and I cannot reason out why something that provides pleasure (even if overdone) can be a deadly sin! Gluttony and Lust may be considered a form of greed by many but I vehemently oppose this notion because a greedy person is never ever happy but a glutton is happy while eating even if momentarily and lust too provides pleasure at specific ‘heated’ moments. Even if these “sinners” crave for more it is only because they have experienced true happiness! And since when did the search for happiness in a place where you have already experienced it become a sin?

Hopefully I haven’t gone ahead of myself this time and have typed out my thoughts in an understandable manner. In short, as a glutton, I personally take it upon myself to oppose the inclusion of gluttony in the seven deadly sins (Lust just got a free ride).

Maybe this is just my being in denial about being a sinner!

Home Sweet Home Sour

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

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

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

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

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

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

Face lift

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dumb courage

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Emotional Sex

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

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

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

I think it is a very enlightening conversation.

I deserve this – I am loving it!

Nobody speaking Really

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Inscrutable ambiguities

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is just another cranky insane post.

Glimpse of reality

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yellow bulb

Imagine this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The yellow bulb just died.