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

Reality Awaits

Luggage left

I have been gone for over a month. Does it matter to you where I was and what I did? To me it does (of course). And the very fact you did not acknowledge my absence makes it even the more important to me.

Where was I all these winters? I was at a countryside, eating guavas and oranges. Living one day at a time, no internet..partially incommunicado. Just those books in my hand and that Sun on my back. As now I pack my clothes into this giant bag, I stand a moment and close my eyes, watching those days we all gathered around the fire as the fog outside chilled the entire environment and blinded everyone. It was too cliched, too fine, it was the stuff that made up our memories and haunted us as the dark times came. But they aren’t here as yet, and let’s not talk about them. Tomorrow I will go back to world, back to reality and a lot of work. A part of me wants to go back, face it all and a part wants to go sit in the Sun that shone after two days and read more of Vonnegut, pretending nothing else exists..

I have a lot of stories to tell and a lot of laughter to share. But all I am gonna do is..finish my packing, have a quick shower and go outside to pick my last guava. For I know, what does my happiness mean to you? =)

Guava tree

Some things are just not good for you, but are great for others

Anti social Fb crap

Social networks are great. Movie Theaters are great. Expensive restaurants are great. Less expensiveones are awesome. Going to them with friends is great. Making lots of friends is great. Talking is great. People and what they do is just..great

But I hate all of this and all of them. I despise it all. It makes the very gut of mine twist and turn and go purple.

We have this page on fb, that says “Humans of —(my college)” and all I see is pictures and quotes of bunch of *famous* people from our college and everyone acting as if they give a shit. I mean they are famous already now we have a page to celebrate them. Now I remember why I left fb. I don’t hate them, per say..but there is a limit to all the crap and pretending and lying we do everyday. Get real for once and get a life (it’s rich, coming from me)

I joined goodreads recently. And I don’t fancy it..much. It’s a social network of sorts and it’s great I agree. But everyone’s talking on it and I dunno, I feel like lost in a traffic with cars honking around me and I am standing amidst the clamour with no idea where to exit. Maybe we don’t like to know if a lot of people out there are better than us and are doing great or are just..there, maybe it’s just me. I value reading a lot. Books are all I had and have. My parents kept me away from people my entire life on strict purpose. My mom has this theory that children who take a lot of interest in affairs of elders end up as dumb, worthless, no-good boneheads.

And she has a lot of evidence to back it up

All my anti-social behaviour is credited to her and of-course my Dad.

And my sister

And my grandpa

And Thomas Hardy

It’s a lot of things that make us who we are. The childhood, the upbringing, the mommy daddy issues, our very nature, the experiences, the lack of experiences. We are not all bad. No matter how much people vex me, they all have wars of their own to fight. I respect that. And I esp respect the people who don’t pretend around me. If they don’t like me they don’t bother and in return I don’t help them out during the exam session

Na. I do…

I don’t blame them if they give me glares or act as if I’m invisible. It’s rude but who cares. I am weird too. I usually stick my tongue out at total strangers and glare at any guy who dares to step in one mile radius

Crazy is the new normal, ey =)

Im-not-Anti-Social

 

I Can Never End What I Start

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I just cannot. I don’t write to the end of a notebook, a journal, a rough register. I cannot keep a cellphone for more than 8 months before I get terribly bored of it. Or destroy the living hell out of it.Or lose it. Halfway watching a movie I remember something and whoosh I am off it. Midway reading a book I have this *Inspirational moment* that I put it down to write on that journal I will never write to the last page. The moment I know twenty pages are left…on to the new one. I am getting irritated of this habit now and I am not a good person to be with when I am irritated

I am not a good person to be with any time

So college is off. I wanna kill myself at home

So here’s the list of books I have read in the holidays uptil now and if I make a list of the books I might or I want to read.. I will never read them. If I tell someone I am reading a book while I am, I won’t complete it. If I tell someone that I like some friend, next day I’ll hate her

Gah..

1) My Uncle’s Dream Fyodor Dostoyevsky

2) The Sirens of Titan Kurt Vonnegut, Jr.

3) Three Men In A Boat Jerome k Jerome

4) Short Stories and poems and two plays of Oscar Wilde

Wonder why I left books to meet people =_= Now my brain’s all messed up and I have to fix the wiring again

anyways. Hail Kindle ! And that old bookshop that sold me that awesome edition of Oscar Wilde’s works

…although I couldn’t eat rest of the month.

Bloodsucker

Here’s to My 2nd crossword puzzle, and more !

crossword

When I get crazy.. I get crazy. I go after one thing like a freaking bull and I don’t give up until I am all burned out. I mean it’s with everything, a new hairstyle, a new pen, a new colour, a new dress, a new jacket, a new book series, new flavour of something I eat, even a new friend. Even an old friend breathing goodbye. I’ll go the last extent to do something that enters my head and I will do it. The sad point is nothing productive ever does, I mean if I had the same thing with studies I would’ve been a freaking genius, but no.. that’s the territory of brother procrastination. Mahalo  =D

So I was off to an old bookstore with a couple of friends the other day. I had been saving up for a while but well.. they didn’t have the Iris Murdoch set so I was really really bummed out, I had read most of the classics and the rest I won’t read. So as I was coming out of the last store, my toe screaming because my cowboy boots can be pretty stiff on that edge when I saw a worn out book lying in the corner, the big yellowing thing with CROSSWORD PUZZLES written on it. Now I stood in the alley and pondered..

Doing crosswords ain’t my thing. I do Sudoku, love code crackers, anagrams, mathematical brain teasers but I totally skip over the crossword part of the newspaper. It just ain’t my thing, it has never been, But I took a chance, while my friends were off a few yards I ran back (with my toe screaming obscenities) and purchased the book. I know the store owner ripped me way off since he had seen that devilish spark and frenzy I get into my eyes sometimes. He knew I’d buy it no matter what. Damn =/

But yo! It was mad the next day. Only Sidney and Kate were there rest everyone was home for the holidays and Kate had been on a slumber strike for 18 hours and wouldn’t wake up, So I and Sidney just went crazy and by the time we were screaming and high-fiving at the end of our first solved puzzle.. as Sidney puts it, our brains had dissolved and as I put it, the part left was being pecked at by crows

 

SO the next day Sidney wouldn’t do another puzzle with me, said she had enough last night and her brain was still recovering, the stubborn ass I am, I went into my room, heat wasn’t working so my hands were frozen, I wrapped myself up in a big blanket and completed another puzzle within two hours

Well I cheated too but well.. chalta he =D

Happy.

AYE !

HAPY AYE

Again, at the crossroads

teddy blanket

So last night I am all wrapped up in my bed, it’s about 10 o’clock and I am reading a book. Someone passes by my room with a characteristic winter *ttttttttttt* of the teeth and I switch the hand holding my kindle and let the poor thing warm while the other hand take its toll. Man it’s getting cold and all my warm clothes are home. All I have is a lousy sweater and a shawl that I begged my mom to send me via courier. It’s cold here than at home but nah, will my mom listen? Plus I am not gonna visit home till December, so yeah, it’s cold =_=

Next thing I know I am hit by a big bout of cough. Oh right I forgot about it, so I get up and take a big gulp of the cough syrup in my roommate’s drawer and fall back on my bed. Boy Anne has a buckload of medicine. I am not a pill-popping person but I took cough syrup because she is a very light sleeper, just like me and one slight movement at night we both just sit up straight, unless, of course, that night when we both were down with a really bad cough and got high on cough syrup. We slept the entire next day with people banging at our door thinking we were dead. What a fun day =D

So I come back my bed in near the window, wrap myself up again and start reading again. I don’t know how I feel at the moment, I just can’t explain it, It’s like all them feelings creeping up like the warmth from your quilt to the back of your neck, it’s friday. Everyone is with everyone and I am with my book and by God it feels so great. There is one point in your life, that one thing in your life, that one part you know is YOU, it’s yours, it’s who you are and when your life changes , you choose a direction at the crossroads but somewhere far ahead comes a part of that road the air is as warm and the sun is as bright and the ground is as soft as the day you made the decision to change. It’s that point your whole life revolves around, that point you will remember every time you face a change of path. Deja vu. You can’t go back, you don’t want to go back. But that moment you can feel a familiar voice in the back of your head, your own voice lost in the dirt so long ago.

I’ll stick around here a while. Who knows, Someone who chose a different path from that same point crosses this way too. Those who separate at one  crossroads…will always meet at another

Sayonara =)

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How relateable are we.. ey?

Reading-a-book-

So.. I have been reading this book ‘The sea, the sea‘ by Iris Murdoch but the problem is I get to read it only in the bus (my spare time) and it’s a short journey from college to my building. So yeah.. it’s moving pretty steady. I read ‘Under the net’ before. Nice book. Both of them.

But.. I stopped reading a lot many times thinking how relate-able some of the characters were with me. Same has happened many times while reading many different books. I see a character description and I’m like.. hey.. that’s me.. that’s how I see myself. And that’s how I think I am seen by so many others. Then I started thinking, there are so many songs that just.. click. Hear a song and you feel as if it was written for you, as if it was sung for you. The melody just blows your mind away as the singer hits you just where it’s tender..

And then I thought.. am I just.. too common..?

Nobody likes to hear that. We all like to believe we are much different from others and maybe on some stages we are, but on so many fundamental levels.. I guess it is all the same. Or is it just all sensitive people feel the same way? Have we been objects for Literature from the beginning of time? Or are the writers I relate to just one of touchy feely fools that drive me and my thinking processes round and round?

I don’t know. I just don’t like the idea nor the theory of relativity.

Why you no like me Einstein )=

albert_einstein rocks