I Understand Now What My Mom Meant by ‘Books will ruin your brain’

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Sometimes I start talking and stop because a voice inside begs me to (not a ‘voice’, voice). I see the look at the other person(s) face and my tongue slips a little. That is my cue to stop talking. And then suddenly I am tired. Then I just feel like being quiet for the rest of the day.

Sometimes I hear something so absolutely ignorant and so fundamentally abhorrent that I have to speak up. And I talk until I bring the other person down and defeat them in every aspect of that horrible utterance. And then one of the following happens:

-They accept that their premise was wrong. (either truly, or just to shut me up and still save face, what is with people and saving face? If you are wrong and have been proven wrong..fess up and learn something instead of strutting around like a plucked peacock, jeez)

-They give me a ‘agree to disagree’. (the root of all my hatred)

-They successfully bring up some points that force me to reconsider. (respect)

-They give me a vague stupid twisted line which involves words like ‘Belief’ and ‘Everyone is like that’ or “This is what Life is” as if it is supposed to answer everything. Or sigh and look into the distance in a way that is supposed to be mysterious and deep as if they hold the secret of the Universe and it must not be uttered. (the Kantian spiritual mystics that will be mentioned by name in my suicide note)

-Or they attack me.

….not the topic, not the discussion, not the points…me. Instead of defending their baseless doctrine….They attack me.. pouncing at everything they can grab at. This part has always amazed me and is the most commonly observed scenario in my experience. The shouting, the frothing at the mouth, the personal remarks, the offenses taken…my God. What a spectacle. My mom does that too, although her counter arguments are ‘Because it is said so’ or ‘You are not old enough’ or ‘I am your Mother’. And then when I know that the argument is useless and stop talking….I get a whole lecture on morality and values. And the lips move and all I see is air coming out that means nothing. I can reduce it to ashes with one question but by that time..my head already feels sore and I am already bored.

Last night I was in my bed, cold and shivering, reading Rand…. I put the book down, closed my eyes and apologized to myself. I apologized for living in a delusional bubble all these years. For writing crap and believing in crap. I was sorry that I had wasted so much of my life believing the wrong things and pursuing the wrong purpose. I now have many of the answers to the questions that confused and wrecked me my entire adolescence. I am not saying they have made me ‘happier’ but they have saved me from the unnecessary torture that I wrongly..or maybe so rightly..termed ‘Sacrifice’. And to think I took pride in it. I do not blame my mother anymore, I do not have an inkling of resentment towards her or anyone else who influenced me as I was growing up. My choices. My mistakes. My faults.

But sometimes.. I want to stop them and ask…do you understand the full meaning of what you are saying? Why are you saying it if you do not understand it, if you cannot defend it the slightest? Do you understand what you are doing? Do you actually get it? Or are you copying someone who did it before you? Tell me why are you doing it? What do you want from it? What is the purpose of your existence? Do you know who you are? Did you try finding it? When? How?

…………………………………………..

 

When I was young and dumb..which was last Tuesday, I think =P I used to say that I was too ‘dead’ to love someone or be in love. And I named my lack of attraction a scar someone unnamed and unessential left me with. But I was wrong. Love is the epitome of personal values. And the reason I did not fall in love with you, you and you was not because I was frigid to your charm…it was because I was frigid to your values, your ideals and above all..your mind.

I am sorry. I should’ve known better.

emotional-intelligence

Ode to Idiots

This post is full of shameless self praise and big-headedness,with a score of judgement on every living soul I have met. Those who take offense easy,
You’ve been warned.

people people

I am creature of impulse, not of calculation. There was once a time I regretted it, but now I don’t. When I was very young I used to think everyone around me had a better understanding of life, that they knew things I would never understand; because they had wholesome families, they lived in big houses and they drove in cars while I came from a broken home and had to travel for hours in a smelly van to get to my school.That somehow their brains were sharper than mine and their thinking much clearer and open. And by this I placed some sort of an invisible responsibility on them. That they were ‘supposed’ to give a crap about my existence and they were ‘supposed’ to understand what I was going through. There in was the birth of my resentment and deep dissatisfaction.

And school went on, and college went on. I got into med school. Same problem. I would ‘expect’ them to understand. I would ‘expect’ them to care. I would resent them if they didn’t. And most often, they didn’t. (why would they? Duh). And I always thought that it was the same thing, that I just didn’t knew any better. I made mistakes because I was lacking the typical upbringing they had.

Boy, was I wrong.

Because, man, are people dumb, deaf and blind!

They walk around as if they are the only human beings on earth, I s them talking such bullcrap that it made my eyes water with anger. Oh, I had an anger phase too. But then, I started to really look at them, really see what their patterns were and that’s when I saw a whole new kind of…dumb.

I am not an advocate of selflessness and the delusion of altruism. I was, but I no longer am. I think thinking and caring about others is a wonderful deed. It brings me great happiness too. But the idea of sacrifice is way too distorted and overrated to be held that high. I would never want my pleasure to be the cause to someone else’s pain (Ayn Rand would put it differently), but I digress.

So, I saw the very friends of mine making the same mistakes over and over. I saw them running from confrontation, keeping things in their hearts, building resentments, taking the wrong way to deal with a situation that could be dealt with so straightforwardly, lying, hiding, hurting, hating, crying, fighting their many problems, some letting the grief bury them, some putting a brave face all the time, loving those who hurt them, hurting those who had been there for them for an eternity.

They all turned out to be..so normal.

There was nothing special or different about them. They knew nothing better. Their privileges had not given them an understanding of someone else’s lacking (?). They would give the same advice I read in a magazine or watched in a movie. Their problems weren’t that different. They said or did nothing that I hadn’t seen or done before. They were just people, lost in their own worlds, trying to make it out alive. People. Just People. Ordinary. Beautiful. Tragic…people…

They didn’t know any better then, they don’t know any better now. I lost all my resentment the day I understood that. Before, I tried to be good because that was what I was taught. Because that was what I was ‘supposed’ to do.

Now I do it because I know that I know better

Try me.

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The Dummy Song

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I am at the same point in my life when I know exactly what I wanna write about but am reluctant to do so because of the inappropriateness of the matter. That point when I know of the exact feelings and thoughts I want to let go of, but am unable to do so out of some deep seated courtesy or the sheer pettiness it would be mistaken as. I am wary to pen it down because it would be perceived as a weakness, lie or deceit. I am afraid that it would fall into some mapped pattern of my behavior and be dismissed off as a predictable tick, a pathetic cry.

I’ll take the legs from some old table
I’ll take the arms from some old chair
I’ll take the neck from some old bottle
And from a horse I’ll take the hair

I know what you’re waiting for. I know what you long to see, what you crave to hear. I know just what to say that would satisfy that itch that you would deny exists. You wanna see me fail, you wanna see me broken, you wanna see me crawl with helplessness and despair. You want misery to penetrate every aspect of my presence visible to you. Or else, you just want me to disappear. You want no trace of me connecting back to you, to remind your conscious and subconscious of the terrible mistakes you made. I remind you of the failure you are. Or the possibility of such a thing to exist. And it’s not easy to confront such a revelation. Unthinkable, even.

I’ll take the hands and face from some old clock
And baby, when I’m through
I’ll get more loving from the dum, dum, dummy
Than I ever got from you

I know it. I know every single one of you to the extent that it would shock you still. You’re so naked in front of me. Bare to the bone. Yet, I loved every single one of you with all your bends and creases. I cherished every dent in your personality, every flaw in your existence. It were those imperfections that made you so human. So beautiful, so real. Each one of you was different, had a separate unshakable place in my heart and in my life. I never put you all on the same level, but gave you all the consideration and love that had no other match. Considered you unique. One of an amazing kind.

I get more loving
From that dum, dum, dummy
Than I’ve ever gotten from you
Yeah, mama, get more loving
From a dummy than I get from you

Well. What a stinking waste of time.

 

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(Title: The Dummy Song by Louis Armstrong)

Prayer for tonight

wishing on a start by a window

I have a very heavy heart today. Right now, as I sit by my window and the wind blows through my incredibly wet hair, I feel a burden weighing me down. What do I tell you? I have no words you haven’t heard before.

 

Sometimes, the only way to move forward is to kill that part of you, remove the part so heavy. What a sad move. Little by little you cut away the gangrenous parts and what remains at the end…well I dread to think about it. The hard, callous shell of a person you used to be. How sad, how cliche.

The moon that usually shines right though my window is not around today. It is all dark and I am lying awake, hoping the wind would blow the load away, before another part of me dies, and dies again. Hoping I wouldn’t have to age for one night, wouldn’t have to disintegrate for one day.

So I close my eyes, remembering myself and everyone as I know right now. And I pray, with eyes tightly shut , that tomorrow as the sun shines onto me, I remain the same as I am today.

 
Amen

“It was not so much that he was shut out, but that she was trapped inside”

phone in bus

SO my friend sends me sends me an audio message this morning about how de-sensitized he thinks he has become for a period of time, how disconnected from everything and distant from everyone. I listen to the message, my upper lip curls and look around for a while.

I don’t remember the last time I felt connected to anyone, by anyone I mean ANYone. Now that I think about it, the last person I felt really in tune with was my sister and it has been a long while since she has gone. I don’t remember sharing a really worthwhile conversation for a long time, I don’t remember being absolutely happy or being utterly sad. A few weeks earlier my cousin said I really was dead inside. I haven’t found a book to die for in months. Haven’t had the stomach to watch an entire movie in one setting for over a year. The really, really weird psychologist I worked with for my internship tried shooting all kinds of darts in my direction, calling me an introvert, saying I never shared anything personal with the group the entire time blah blah blah and right now as the only friends I have in my college leave me to go out, I so wish I at least felt bad at not being included, or that the way I and Bubbly have drifted apart would affect me a little, or that sometimes it would give me a sting thinking how absolutely shrunken has my world become and that maybe I would breakdown thinking my mom would die any day now… but no. I feel nothing.
So what do I tell him?

Standing Still

against the wind

I wonder how stubborn and rubbery some of us are. How truly incorrigible. Unbreakable, infinite. History comes and goes, time and again, repeating itself, punishing us for the same mistakes over and over and we still stand there. Tall as ever, been hit so many times but still alive; breathing, smiling, laughing.

It’s that permanent stage of deja vu. That ‘been there, done that’ situation that makes it impossible to savour a moment of peace or pain. How many times have you been in and out of a hospital, lugging around with your loved ones, putting on a brave face. How many times have you stood besides them and known that they were not gonna make it but you still hope that some miracle would save them, make them young again and take all the disease away from them. How many times have you stood in-front of the mirror, praying the same thing for yourself.

Well, I am in a waiting room myself. Again. Praying for another loved one, one that actually gave birth to me. Praying she makes it. Praying some miracle would come and suck all the pain and anger from her. Make her young again. Praying I had someone right now to sit besides, even silently so. Just to know someone is there. I don’t wanna hold hands, nor do I wish for a shoulder to lean on. I have no one to do so either, so that takes care of it.

And when she dies, and I’m hit again. I know I’d still be here. Alive. And I’ll laugh and smile and breathe too. And you’ll never know just what I’ve been through. Just like now.

 

Que sera sera..

hair in air

Sometimes I feel I am way too old to be whining about friends. The moment I start my brain back-flips as the same thoughts hit me and it feels so tiring to go round and round the same circle. I literally feel a bolus of vomit stuck in my gut and one in my head. Just wanting..out

Same exact people, acting in the same juvenile fashion. If I stay with them, I feel nauseated. If they ignore me, I feel angry and left out; when I am with them, I simply cannot wait to get away. And the cycle goes on and on until my brain starts to hurt and I give up. And I crash. And then something happens, and I am back on the same road.

And as far as I remember, this is exactly how things have been with every friend I have ever been with. I like them, then I hate them, then I like them. Sometimes all of their faces blend together when I look back. My personality brings out the exact same pattern in their behaviour. They are always there but they can’t never really get to know me. And why the hell would they try? Anne stuck around, she is like..my soul sister. But I went through hell to get to a point where her presence or absence doesn’t hurt me. She stays, I am happy (so happy), she leaves, I barely look. It’s comfortable between us. Because, comfortable distance always works for me. And it also has to do with the fact that she has the most tolerable and amazing personality. Ever heard, nay dreamed, of that breathtaking beauty, those cool brilliant brains and that gentle understanding soul in one person? Well that’s her.

My only concern is the strangulating effect of these interactions. I don’t want to be crippled by my own emotions. I don’t want my decisions to be dictated by how I feel about a particular matter. I call these my *out-of-body experiences*, when I look at a person as a whole. Not how they affect me, but how they actually are.

It’s a pretty nice feeling, actually. But to get to a point where one day their existence will have no affect on me in entire sense of the word, I have yet a very, very long and tortuous path to walk.

Till then. Que sera sera..

queserasera

Que sera sera (what will be, will be)

“Okay, what does ‘okay mean?” “It means, okay, I hear you.”

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I’ve had people as my friends. Few, but yes, there have been some. And I have always observed the exact same pattern with all of them, since I have been the same person and have attracted the exact same kind of people. Amazing people. Everyone was different. They were all strange and exotic in one way or the other. They all took a little something from me and left me with a little bit of them. Sometimes I don’t think I am this one person with my own thoughts or personality. It feels as if all those people made my persona and all those books fed my thoughts and imagination. Just when I think I am tired of the same thing over and over, something does actually happen.. I thought it only did so in movies and books. Lol

One thing has happened consistently all my life. I’ve never had anyone stand up for me or defend me. One might think it’s because I don’t do so either..but no..I’m a pretty aggressive and strongly opinionated person. Hell I have defended my enemies, in the literal sense of the word. But I don’t know how it feels to have someone defend you, back you up when someone isn’t your blood relative. When they have no real motive nor reason to do so, I have never known that feeling, except once. I had stopped longing for it..for as far as I can remember

And just, fifteen minutes earlier.. I had friend help me. Just for the sake of helping me. I had a friend..think of me as a person, not a frigid pile of flesh and bones.

Well. As much as I don’t want this event to go to my head, it still feels a little good. A little nice. Like holding a small chick in my hand. Have you ever held one? It’s soft and light and fragile…and so yellow

 

BABY-CHICKEN

(Title: Rainbow Rowell’s Attachments)

It’s just the strangest thing, I’ve seen your face somewhere…

poker face

I am tired to my bones running into the same kind of people every day and every night. Wherever I turn, I see the same faces, same pointless drivel flowing from their lips and it makes my stomach turn. I see them reading the same worthless books, quoting the same quotes, wearing the same expressions and saying the same things. And this afternoon I wanted to jump from the bus

Lord I don’t know where to turn to. I am going to be buried in work soon and the very idea of the workload is getting me into fits of panic..but I’ll get through it, like I always have. Whether this is the actual issue or whether something else is going on inside me.. I do not know. But the very idea of the plain brain washed puppets I live amongst.. it just makes me angry. I always have believed everyone is different, unique, that they all have their own wars to fight, own battles to win and plenty of fears to conquer..but give me something now. I have never called people around me any names. Never judged them, never expected anything, never really saw them. But when I try.. I don’t like what I see..

It has become so repetitive that it enrages the hell out of me. Same deceits, same devotion. same ideals, same rationalizations. This city that city. All the shows saying marriage stinks and divorce is inevitable, all the books saying religion is a false cover for horrors we bind ourselves in, parents demanding respect, teachers claiming it as their right, patients cursing doctors, doctors cursing patients, same menu in the hostel mess for four years, riding the same bus, looking at the same people..loving and cheating and hating and lying…

I’ve taken breaks. From God, from friends, from books, from tv, from internet..once, twice..so many times. They all return and they all make me toss my lunch. Give me something ! Give me something that’ll make me turn towards you and see your face and know that I haven’t seen you before, in all those crowds and in all those cities. Show me something I haven’t seen before, tell me something I haven’t heard yet. Amaze me. Make me fall in love. Make me coil in hatred.

Do something..

tired sticky note

 

(Title: ‘Do You Know Me by John Mayer)

30th November (III)

I like testing people. I do it all the time. Everyday. Every other moment. Sometimes its obvious. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes I get them to fail, no matter what. My test, My rules. It’s a crazy world up in my head.

Why ramble on into a huge story of what happened or what didn’t? It was such a long while ago. It was a good day, I was born. Dad Mom Sis were happy. They still are. I too am a lot happier. Crap goes on, I deal with it, Crap comes back, I hit it. People get crap in them, I get a blow. First I used to help them out of it.. now I pretty much shove it in their faces and leave.

Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to me B-)

Happy birthay to me