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

Twenty Sixteen

Enough

The reason I put ‘2016’ as the title is because I couldn’t think of any. I haven’t written anything in a long long time and that isn’t just one of those ‘falling out of blogging’ things. I couldn’t write anymore. And now, as my hands fly over the rusty keys of my trusted computer…I don’t know why I am doing this. Each and every one of my friends, the ones who used to blog and write have flown far away. It feels old and distant. I feel old myself. The only though that compelled me again as I sit in a cold corner, tired after packing for my final year in medicine..is..that it is an another year. A whole new chance to start over and face a whole new set of experiences waiting for me. I am tired of the same old ways the world runs around me.

Enough is Enough.

“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?

It’s No Treat Being In My Head

I bunked college today to come back early because I couldn’t take a minute more of the pointless droll my Professor was trying to sell (offense intended). Stopped at the bakery to get bread for my friend, had a tiff with a cab driver, came back and stuffed myself with food and regretted it the moment I took the last bite and felt as if I would explode. Bad choice, Haib.

(I can hear my stomach hating me)

So. Self Indulgence time

My research proposal is STUCK. And that adds up to a clutter in my head and it keeps bugging me all the time. All the time. Like a fork jammed in my head. All these things felt so good a month ago, when I was jumping up and down for getting in the Electives Program (Psychology) at a very respected Institute and when my research synopsis was formed and now they won’t return my email about..something, time is moving on like hell and the moment I shut Goljan Pathology and ask myself a question I rush to the window to throw myself off it. And then there was this Tobacco Presentation I wanted to make but lost all heart for it. I can never force myself to do anything. It comes out wrong and I am control freak. Jack of all trades, Master of none is kind of not what I am going for =/. I am just gonna focus on the important things and try to keep the mess in my head to the minimum.

Honestly speaking…I don’t really mind. I like having challenges to face. Problems to tackle. It’s better than sitting in that lecture hall of mine, trying hard to keep my eyes open, listening to the History of Polio Vaccine and why IPV is different from OPV…I don’t mind history or polio..I just can’t fathom the tone, that boring, monotonous tone that sucks the living soul out of me.. (offense intended)

With that being said, I am gonna go lie flat on the floor and read Dostoevsky. Then I am gonna fall asleep over there and wake up with a very stiff back but well…with those Russian dudes, I really don’t mind =D I just hope no bug crawls into my ear and eats its way to my brain. O_O

Btw..It has been four years with this blog. Happy Anniversary to me =)

Au revoir ! 

problem_solved

What’s your Room No. ?

row of windows

Why is it that moving crowds make me feel so horribly crippled and so devastatingly stranded? Stay there for a minute or two and see them all moving on, while you are waiting for that one thing. Standing, invisible and unseen amongst everyone you know. Low self-esteem? Nah, sometimes it’s just a simple observation

So I do what I went there for, inside the small room as my name is called and mumble my room number. It’s the Allotment Day. We get new rooms as the final year of our college leaves and we have a crack at better rooms. I mumble the same number I did last year. A room full of sunshine, whenever sun comes . A room alight with the moon, whenever moon returns (la di da). A room so perfect in its imperfections that the very notion of changing it made me close my eyes and send out a little prayer, if you’re up there, Oh God, of all the things I have lost, don’t take this away from me.

As I came out, I glanced around, bade a friend or two farewell and climbed up those stairs again. I got what I wanted, then why does my heart sting so much? This happens every year this day. Friends fight, people turn away, girls jump each others throat, blah blah blah..there is so much hostility in the air that I barely recognize anything and anyone. And why do I feel sad at the fact that my ‘friend’ moved away. This happens every year ! Why does it have to sting every time? God ! I want to look myself in the mirror and scream.. GROW UP ALREADY

Haha, well, yea, feelings come and feelings go. Mine left a few seconds ago. We waste our life chasing the wrong people and while I say this I know I am still barking up the wrong tree. And it is also funny when I say that because I have never really chased anyone. One or two people maybe. I guess we have blown up images of ourselves in our head. Why ask people to change a part of themselves for a part of you? Why not see them as they are, not how they affect you? It takes a bigger man to accept that. And that bigger man I try and fail to be, every single day

I have hated clichés. And my hatred for them grows by the minute. I do not believe in all those morals and rituals our brain washed society preaches and has been doing to death..but it gets so hard sometimes, to separate yourself from it. I hate when hypocrisy stirs in me as I keep my mouth shut. Sometimes I wanna blurt it all out but by the time words get to my mouth..I realize…I just don’t care. Or cowardice gets the best of me. Or simple disgust does.

I don’t wanna become that person. I don’t wanna be a sociopath, I don’t wanna live with so much hostility inside that the insides turn black while the extremities go numb. I have been numb. It was horrible. Who wants to be trod upon and be hurt? No one. But I’d rather be hurt than be a corpse who sees nothing, feels nothing and leaves a stench everywhere.

La di da

la di da

“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)

Tale of Calamine Lotion and Quiana

calamine-lotion

I live next door to a beautiful paranoid brainiac. So the tale goes this way that she had a mild skin reaction on her neck. It was mild at first, but then it turned into this monster that attacked parts of her face. Next thing we know, there are screams and paranoia everywhere =D

We all love her, the entire corridor, btw  (in case she reads this post and something offends her and kills me in the middle of the night). So she went to see this doctor at the hospital.

Being popular does a weird thing to people. So does money. And if you have both of them..boy, it is a disaster. So he prescribed him a measly Calamine lotion without proper checkup. And let me remind you again, our exams are close and this dermatitis was really getting on Quiana’s nerves and..on mine too =D (again, I love you Q)

So. Week went by, but the doctor said..no..no… Calamine is the way to go. For those who do not know, Calamine and zinc oxide lotion is commonly used to relieve pain and itching from poison ivy, poison oak, poison sumac, sunburns, rashes, and insect bites. Calamine and zinc oxide also helps dry oozing and weeping caused from ivy, oak, and sumac poisons.

Where the hell would our Quiana get hold of poison oak and ivy? The girl is the sweetest person alive with no general attraction towards leaning on trees and smelling grass =_=

And Quiana’s neck got worse. And boy,were we angry at the doctor

So..at last, when Quiana could take it no longer and the rash had now spread all across, toward her shoulders and a bit south (I’m guessing), she decided to visit a private clinic and viola.. a pile of money, half an hour and bucket full of ointments and drugs and two days later.. The rash almost disappeared and Quiana lived happily ever after

And the whole incident..just brought me down. I am not saying I doubt the medical opinion of docs and that I know more, I just hated myself for that one moment when I thought I might become that doctor one day..and I might have a bunch of people hating me for not caring and wasting all this study and resources for…nothing. Nothing. I do not wanna work in a private clinic (no matter what my parents say) I wanna work at a decent Government hospital. But I do not wanna become one of those people who lose the good decent stuff in them as money and fame comes and time passes.

The End

not interested throwing papers in the air

Cleopatra and Alexandria and Sawyer in my Fortress of Solitude

Now who are these three additions to my sweet sweet life?

These are the some really persistent visitors. To understand them one really has to understand a bit about my room

train view

I chose it on an impulse. All my friends including Sidney and Kate got rooms in this really secluded corridor and wanted me to get one there too. So I enter this room, and at a whim I go, bam I want it. The energies felt just right. I mean..it still doesn’t have *It’s my room* sorta feeling but it has a beautiful air about it. Although later day by day I found the closet was all dented, the fans made one hell of a noise and the view from the window….just wasn’t that mouth-watering. But I guess these are the small imperfections that make someone or something just so damn perfect. And patience.. I guess it pays off too

Cleopatra

So I have a visitor who comes by everyday. I remember when she first came I was terrified. I thought she was gonna harm me and sting me in the ass but..she didn’t. She just comes around and stays for a few minutes, and leaves. I love Cleopatra. I love that small angry orange wasp that scares the hell out of my friends

Wasp

Alexandria

And then there is Alexandria. She is my wake up call. She comes every time the gods of slumber smile upon me and coo the hell out of them. I don’t know whether she sits above my window, or on the block right next to my building, I dunno I have never seen her but all I know is, on college days this bird wakes me up the moment I wanna get that five-minute extra sleep and on the Sunday she won’t let me miss the special breakfast they serve. And any chance of prolonging that afternoon nap? I DON’T THINK SO

Bird shadow

Sawyer

Okay, Sawyer (took it from Lost, my all time fav show) is a discrete fella. I don’t get to see him everyday but he too scared me a bit the first time. I mean when I saw that tiny jet black spider crawling over my WiFi went still for a few minutes. But I see him now and again and we pass by like strangers. Lol. I sound so cuckoo. But when at night the full moon shines directly on my bed, lighting up my room with this soft silvery glow…it just feels divine and all the crap in my life, if there is any, just evaporates in the sounds of my snores. Lol

Spider art

I don’t snore btw =_=

Well, it’s fun to be crazy sometimes. As long as you don’t tell your mom about it

Love. Haib