http://www.maa.org/devlin/LockhartsLament.pdf
A long read,but essentially true.
Monday, December 20, 2010
Monday, December 13, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Just so that you can remember
Just so that you can remember,
Today is your birthday...
You don't want to get up and face the world,
but you have to.
You can avoid all the smiling faces and birthday wishes,
but you must not.
People who weren't nice to you all year long might behave oppositely,
but you can't be cynical.
The world is a tiring place,
but you must hold on.
The world does not particularly care where it extracts the next pound of flesh from,
so you must be ready to bleed a little.
That's all.
Go on with your life now.
Nothing has changed,
except that you are an year older.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Monday, November 15, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Friday, November 5, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Common Delusions
All women suffer from a delusion that their aesthetic tastes are infinitely better than that of the men they are with.On second thought, women do not suffer from this delusion...they rather enjoy exercising it and as a result make their men suffer.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Funny thing about Facebook
The funny thing about Facebook is that I didn't even know that it existed until this February 2010, when I came home from a eight month long voyage and found that suddenly the world has gone apeshit over it.
What irked me the most was that my dad was on Facebook, and all my old schoolmates were already on his friends list.(Daaaaaad!!! wtf???)
Huh?...Whaaa???!!
I was tired of this shit....I thought with me in Orkut for networking and Multiply for friends, I'd never have to join another social networking site in my life.
The last time I checked my Multiply friends were still cool, and gave the most thoughtful interactions they could give to me...it might have seemed that they were slowly getting disenchanted with Multiply, but it was still good times.
But with most people abandoning Orkut en masse , Orkut started resembling a ghost town.
Drat!
I was presented with a "I don't wanna, but I hafta...join Facebook" scenario.
So Join I did.
(Here I am)
Initially being new, I had a massive inferiority complex when on facebook.My friends already had over 400~500 friends, while I could count mine with my fingers (and eventually fingers and toes)
Friend requests were not easily forthcoming...and people took their time to accept my friend requests.
My insecurity was compounded by the fact that I did not understand Facebook and it's trends...I mean, why do people tag each other in offensive pictures?Why why why?
What's the thing with the wall? So...everyone can see whatever I write on it?
Hey...unlike Orkut, no one can know whose profile you have checked...cool...
So, I was determined to do two things on Facebook.
1)Make a lot more friends than most of my friends.
2)Crack the facebook Code to be more visible (while actively loathing it)
If you notice, I occasionally wrote on facebook too.
I strived to keep the material upbeat and insightful and totally unique from the stuff I posted elsewhere.(The last bit did not happen so easily)
I did make a lot of friends on facebook...It was not a huge number, and definitely not the highest amongst my friends, but a lot nevertheless.
I used every dirty trick on the planet to get more friends.
I even fertilised random farms in farmville and fought against random mafia members in Mafia Wars.
I sent friend requests to any female who looked good(regardless whether it was their real profile pics or not) and some not so pretty females(who I knew would not reject my friend requests), all the time while I strived to post unique links and neverbeforeseen status messages.
My hardwork paid off...in more ways the one.
I made around 700+ friends at one time, including a few (real) celebrities and some really pretty girls.
To my surprise I was not a loser here.
Girls usually came on their own and tried to strike up a conversation.Some of them were really pretty.
One of those pretty girls was
She confessed that she liked what I posted.
I tried my best to hide my pre-conceived loser self notion, and presented myself as a chilled out dude who was having a lot of fun with his life.
It almost backfired.
She thought I was a regular playboy and a heartbreaker with the gift of gab who regularly deflowered innocent virgins.
So then I presented my true self...the shy never been kissed guy that I was...which strangely what had her hooked(apart from my ASOH or Awesome Sense Of Humour)
And you know what...
This was true.
And maybe Mark Zuckerberg knew all about it, but didn't give a shit because he was too busy taking a swim in his pool filled with money.
An epilogue too early:The path of excess leads to wisdom.
After 700+ friends,most of whom I have never seen, let alone met, I found that I had no need to prove myself of Facebook.
I no longer had to have a lot of friends.
I no longer wanted to post stuff that ooh-ed and aah-ed everyone.
I no longer felt obsessed about checking my profile every minute.
The spell had broken.
I've now cut back drastically on facebook time.A cursory glance of the page sometimes...I never click on the inane viral videos, not do I troll on others status messages, nor do I tag friends on stupid pics.
I've deleted most of my Facebook friends whom I've never interacted with...boasting a lighter friendlist of around 300 friends (soon to be halved).
And I'm finally gonna start writing soon.
(Orkut is known as Borekut amongst friends these days.
R.I.P Orkut)
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Feeling Sad Makes Us More Creative | Wired Science | Wired.com
http://www.wired.com/wiredscience/2010/10/feeling-sad-makes-us-more-creative/
Thought so...I always wrote when I was lonely,sad,frustrated...and did I mention lonely?
Thought so...I always wrote when I was lonely,sad,frustrated...and did I mention lonely?
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
Saturday, October 16, 2010
Live Version of "The Bed Intruder Song" (VID) | I Can Has Internets
http://www.icanhasinternets.com/2010/10/live-version-of-the-bed-intruder-song/
I still find this funny...am I a bad person?
I still find this funny...am I a bad person?
Monday, October 11, 2010
Just asking...do stories like these make you cry?
In 2001, I met a cute girl named Amanda at my high school. She and I were both pretty quiet but became good friends and hung out together often; eventually, she became the kind of childhood friend you'd sit on the sofa with for hours on a Saturday not really doing anything other than eating lots of Gogurts and unconsciously enjoying the purity and innocence of youth. I was friend-zoned early but in all honesty I didn't mind (and only really realize it now). The emotional connection we shared was different than anything I had ever experienced at the time. On a brisk October Tuesday afternoon, she called to tell me she was diagnosed with Leukemia. She was very relaxed about it, without tears or anxiety. I still believe she didn't know what was going on. I tried to comfort her but she didn't want to focus on that when we spent time together. Months passed and she underwent various treatments. The thought of being there for her and supporting her more than her other "friends" made me feel like I had a purpose, a mission, even an empirically quantifiable model of success: her getting over leukemia. She and I would skip classes together to go to her "doctor's appointments" since she "couldn't really drive and needed a driver for safety". We would stop to get milkshakes on the way back to school, and blue razzberry slushies from the gas station on Fridays. I would be lying if I said I didn't grow to love this girl. As she got worse, I was at the hospital every day by her side. Her other "friends" were mysteriously absent. One day I caught myself thinking "If only she can get over this, she and I can go to college together and maybe even get married - really have a true life together." I had fallen for her. Pinned on her was my future, my desires, and my first sense of deep love for someone else.
On Wednesday at 4:54 PM, March 12th, my birthday, Amanda passed away. Sitting quietly and motionless on my empty sofa, I realized she was the only person I had ever truly loved, as much as a naive 18 year old can love anything, yet it was the one thing I never told her. I try not to blame myself for not telling her what all the movies tell me every young girl wants to hear, but at 18, death is such an unamalgamated idea and death mixed with love is a cancer in itself. Now married with a child on the way, I can't help but sit on the sofa holding my wife whom I dearly love, and thinking guiltily to myself "Amanda, I love you."
I'm sure she knew.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
The dark side of Dubai - Johann Hari, Commentators - The Independent
http://www.independent.co.uk/opinion/commentators/johann-hari/the-dark-side-of-dubai-1664368.html
Fascinating read on Dubai...link originally posted by segaman.
Fascinating read on Dubai...link originally posted by segaman.
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Sandcastles on clouds are just as wispy
DO YOU WANT TO IMPROVE an important aspect of your life?
Perhaps lose weight, find your perfect partner, obtain your dream job, or simply be happier? Try this simple exercise. …
Close your eyes and imagine the new you. Think how great you would look in those close-fitting designer jeans, dating Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie, sitting in a luxurious leather chair at the top of the corporate ladder, or sipping a piña colada as the warm waves of the Caribbean gently lap at your feet.
The good news is that this type of exercise has been recommended by some in the self-help industry for years. The bad news is that a large body of research now suggests that such exercises are, at best, ineffective and, at worst, harmful. Although imagining your perfect self may make you feel better, engaging in such mental escapism can also have the unfortunate side effect of leaving you unprepared for the difficulties that crop up on the rocky road to success, thus increasing the chances of your faltering at the first hurdle rather than persisting in the face of failure. Fantasizing about heaven on earth may put a smile on your face, but it is unlikely to help transform your dreams into reality.
Other research suggests that the same goes for many popular techniques that claim to improve your life. Attempting to “think yourself happy” by suppressing negative thoughts can make you obsess on the very thing that makes you unhappy. Group brainstorming can produce fewer and less original ideas than individuals working alone. Punching a pillow and screaming out loud can increase, rather than decrease, your anger and stress levels.
Then there is the infamous “Yale Goal Study.” According to some writers, in 1953 a team of researchers interviewed Yale’s graduating seniors, asking them whether they had written down the specific goals that they wanted to achieve in life. Twenty years later the researchers tracked down the same cohort and found that the 3 percent of people who had specific goals all those years before had accumulated more personal wealth than the other 97 percent of their classmates combined. It is a great story, frequently cited in self-help books and seminars to illustrate the power of goal setting. There is just one small problem—as far as anyone can tell, the experiment never actually took place. In 2007 writer Lawrence Tabak, from the magazine Fast Company, attempted to track down the study, contacting several writers who had cited it, the secretary of the Yale Class of 1953, and other researchers who had tried to discover whether the study had actually happened.1 No one could produce any evidence that it had ever been conducted, causing Tabak to conclude that it was almost certainly nothing more than an urban myth. For years, self-help gurus had been happy to describe a study without checking their facts.
Both the public and the business world have bought into modern-day mind myths for years and, in so doing, may have significantly decreased the likelihood of achieving their aims and ambitions. Worse still, such failure often encourages people to believe that they cannot control their lives. This is especially unfortunate, as even the smallest loss of perceived control can have a dramatic effect on people’s confidence, happiness, and life span. In one classic study conducted by Ellen Langer at Harvard University, half of the residents in a nursing home were given a houseplant and asked to look after it, while the other residents were given an identical plant but told that the staff would take responsibility for it.2 Six months later, the residents who had been robbed of even this small amount of control over their lives were significantly less happy, healthy, and active than the others. Even more distressing, 30 percent of the residents who had not looked after their plant had died, compared to 15 percent of those who had been allowed to exercise such control. Similar results have been found in many areas, including education, career, health, relationships, and dieting. The message is clear—those who do not feel in control of their lives are less successful, and less psychologically and physically healthy, than those who do feel in control.
-Richard Wiseman, (59 seconds, Think a Little, Change a Lot)
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Lessons in love and laughter
I'm talking to you.I hear your voice...but when I look at you,it's not you, but a grey-white crane that is sitting down on the ground looking at me.
Your face is expressionless- a frozen mask.
I notice that you are not speaking...but your voice floats out.
Closer inspection revealed that you were not actually sitting, but your feet were stuck in the mud, and no matter how you wanted to fly away you could not -because you were trapped.
You were trapped , but not too worried and did not want to be rescued because you were confident that you will free yourself.
Anyways, this was my dream many days ago and I was contemplating ever since whether I should tell you or not.
Do you know what's the worst that can happen when you open yourself to someone...to someone you love?
You can get laughed at, and in a moment , the solemnity of your confession is shattered, along with everything inside you.
I'd rather laugh with my loved ones than be laughed at by them, so till I'm sure of what's gonna happen this will stay here, unburdening me for the time being.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
Friday, September 24, 2010
Thursday, September 23, 2010
"More Sex is Safer Sex" Paradox « Python recipes « ActiveState Code
http://code.activestate.com/recipes/577403/
For anyone who understands Python...
For anyone who understands Python...
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Power Posing: Fake It Until You Make It
http://hbswk.hbs.edu/item/6461.html
Glad I found this...now I'mma gonna power pose all day!
Glad I found this...now I'mma gonna power pose all day!
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
Monday, September 13, 2010
Monday, September 6, 2010
Friday, September 3, 2010
This is why I've been busy these days...
Originally titled Beach beach mein...a cross-lingual pun on the word beech(hindi) which means "in between" and the english word Beach.
Monday, August 30, 2010
How Could You
HOW COULD YOU?
By Jim Willis, 2001
A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan took out a $7000 full page ad in the paper
to present the following essay to the people of his community:
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You
called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?"- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a bellyrub. My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more Perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day. Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on Your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" --still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human Babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I
might hurt them, and I spent most of my time Banished to another room, or to
a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of
Love." As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch--because your touch was now so infrequent --and I would've Defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and
together we waited for the sound of Your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family. I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my Dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all Life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?" They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind-that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?" Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself--a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" Was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of You and wait for you forever. May everyone in your Life continue to show you so much loyalty.
A Note from the Author:
If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to
mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions
of formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American & Canadian animal
shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as
long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice. Please use it to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell the public that the decision to add a pet to the family is an important one for life, that animals deserve our love and sensible care, that finding another appropriate home for your animal is your responsibility and any local humane society or animal welfare league can offer you good advice, and that all life is precious. Please do your part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay and neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.
Jim Willis
A man in Grand Rapids, Michigan took out a $7000 full page ad in the paper
to present the following essay to the people of his community:
When I was a puppy, I entertained you with my antics and made you laugh. You
called me your child, and despite a number of chewed shoes and a couple of murdered throw pillows, I became your best friend. Whenever I was "bad," you'd shake your finger at me and ask "How could you?"- but then you'd relent and roll me over for a bellyrub. My housebreaking took a little longer than expected, because you were terribly busy, but we worked on that together. I remember those nights of nuzzling you in bed and listening to your confidences and secret dreams, and I believed that life could not be any more Perfect. We went for long walks and runs in the park, car rides, stops for ice cream (I only got the cone because "ice cream is bad for dogs" you said), and I took long naps in the sun waiting for you to come home at the end of the day. Gradually, you began spending more time at work and on Your career, and more time searching for a human mate. I waited for you patiently, comforted you through heartbreaks and disappointments, never chided you about bad decisions, and romped with glee at your homecomings, and when you fell in love. She, now your wife, is not a "dog person" --still I welcomed her into our home, tried to show her affection, and obeyed her. I was happy because you were happy. Then the human Babies came along and I shared your excitement. I was fascinated by their pinkness, how they smelled, and I wanted to mother them, too. Only she and you worried that I
might hurt them, and I spent most of my time Banished to another room, or to
a dog crate. Oh, how I wanted to love them, but I became a "prisoner of
Love." As they began to grow, I became their friend. They clung to my fur and pulled themselves up on wobbly legs, poked fingers in my eyes, investigated my ears, and gave me kisses on my nose. I loved everything about them and their touch--because your touch was now so infrequent --and I would've Defended them with my life if need be. I would sneak into their beds and listen to their worries and secret dreams, and
together we waited for the sound of Your car in the driveway. There had been a time, when others asked you if you had a dog, that you produced a photo of me from your wallet and told them stories about me. These past few years, you just answered "yes" and changed the subject. I had gone from being "your dog" to "just a dog," and you resented every expenditure on my behalf. Now, you have a new career opportunity in another city, and you and they will be moving to an apartment that does not allow pets. You've made the right decision for your "family," but there was a time when I was your only family. I was excited about the car ride until we arrived at the animal shelter. It smelled of dogs and cats, of fear, of hopelessness. You filled out the paperwork and said "I know you will find a good home for her." They shrugged and gave you a pained look. They understand the realities facing a middle-aged dog, even one with "papers." You had to pry your son's fingers loose from my collar as he screamed "No, Daddy! Please don't let them take my Dog!" And I worried for him, and what lessons you had just taught him about friendship and loyalty, about love and responsibility, and about respect for all Life. You gave me a good-bye pat on the head, avoided my eyes, and politely refused to take my collar and leash with you. You had a deadline to meet and now I have one, too. After you left, the two nice ladies said you probably knew about your upcoming move months ago and made no attempt to find me another good home. They shook their heads and asked "How could you?" They are as attentive to us here in the shelter as their busy schedules allow. They feed us, of course, but I lost my appetite days ago. At first, whenever anyone passed my pen, I rushed to the front, hoping it was you that you had changed your mind-that this was all a bad dream...or I hoped it would at least be someone who cared, anyone who might save me. When I realized I could not compete with the frolicking for attention of happy puppies, oblivious to their own fate, I retreated to a far corner and waited. I heard her footsteps as she came for me at the end of the day, and I padded along the aisle after her to a separate room. A blissfully quiet room. She placed me on the table and rubbed my ears, and told me not to worry. My heart pounded in anticipation of what was to come, but there was also a sense of relief. The prisoner of love had run out of days. As is my nature, I was more concerned about her. The burden which she bears weighs heavily on her, and I know that, the same way I knew your every mood. She gently placed a tourniquet around my foreleg as a tear ran down her cheek. I licked her hand in the same way I used to comfort you so many years ago. She expertly slid the hypodermic needle into my vein. As I felt the sting and the cool liquid coursing through my body, I lay down sleepily, looked into her kind eyes and murmured "How could you?" Perhaps because she understood my dogspeak, she said "I'm so sorry." She hugged me, and hurriedly explained it was her job to make sure I went to a better place, where I wouldn't be ignored or abused or abandoned, or have to fend for myself--a place of love and light so very different from this earthly place. And with my last bit of energy, I tried to convey to her with a thump of my tail that my "How could you?" Was not directed at her. It was directed at you, My Beloved Master, I was thinking of you. I will think of You and wait for you forever. May everyone in your Life continue to show you so much loyalty.
A Note from the Author:
If "How Could You?" brought tears to your eyes as you read it, as it did to
mine as I wrote it, it is because it is the composite story of the millions
of formerly "owned" pets who die each year in American & Canadian animal
shelters. Anyone is welcome to distribute the essay for a noncommercial purpose, as
long as it is properly attributed with the copyright notice. Please use it to help educate, on your websites, in newsletters, on animal shelter and vet office bulletin boards. Tell the public that the decision to add a pet to the family is an important one for life, that animals deserve our love and sensible care, that finding another appropriate home for your animal is your responsibility and any local humane society or animal welfare league can offer you good advice, and that all life is precious. Please do your part to stop the killing, and encourage all spay and neuter campaigns in order to prevent unwanted animals.
Jim Willis
Friday, August 27, 2010
Thursday, August 26, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Ghosts of Insomnia
Phantom lips and darting tongues
panting breaths and deep sighs,
a heaviness on me and a smile of glee
reluctant thighs and ignored pleas
a sweet memory of moistness and salt...
these are my new ghosts of insomnia...
Oh heart do not misbehave,
as you reminisce once again...
do not flutter, do not falter
when you remember
her touch
that once lingered on my skin
that felt so precious
like warm glowing embers that smouldered from deep within
The memory of her face,
and that secret place
and her warmth kept many winters at bay
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
Friday, July 9, 2010
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Sunday, July 4, 2010
Friday, July 2, 2010
Ice Queen
He's an astute observer of people.
He's usually never wrong.
He tells me, that I need to be loved by women,that I constantly crave their validation, and so to gain that love and validation I will do anything they ask me.
I resented that.
I'm not like that.
I think.
I'm never sure...his eyes have a way of convincing you the absurdest of the lies he spouts out.
I tell him,"I don't even believe in love"
"So..who was she?", he asked.
"Who?",
"The one that broke your heart?",
"You won't believe me if I told you...", I said.
"Try me", he said.
"She was an imaginary woman of my creation...the perfect ice queen whose primary goal in life was to reject all men, while hoping and waiting for her Prince Charming."
I took a long breath before I could continue...I had to say it in a single breath, or else I would never be able to say it at all.
" I've placed this imaginary woman's mask on several women till date... and most of them have outright rejected it...but it fit one person very well, and it became her...no, not because she had all the qualities of my imaginary ice queen, but because I helped her bring it out slowly and gradually, until the mask got lost somewhere in the persona.
The objective of the entire exercise (futile as it may seem now) was to bring about a change in me (which it did in the end) but it had unintended(and tragic) consequences that it changed her as well.
I feel so ashamed of myself that I've stopped talking to her,distanced myself from her and hope that someday she might forgive me."
"It's too late to ask for forgiveness", he said,"she will hate you for the rest of her life".
"I know" I said.
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
I just got threatened!
Date:29 jun 2010
Time:Around 16:30
A big fat guy comes to our apartment with four other guys and starts banging the door.
I ask him what he wants.He shouts that he wants to come in.
I ask him why.
He says he wants to show the apartment to a client of his.
I refuse.
He starts hollering obscenities and threatens to 'beat me like a dog ' at night if I don't open the door.
I tell him that I will open the door only if the owner is present.
He says that he is the owner of the apartment.
I am amused now.I tell him that since he is the owner he should open the door with his key.
He just starts banging the door louder.
My room mate decides not to come out of his locked room the entire time.Later he tells me that he didn't come because he hadn't heard anything.Somehow I don't believe him.
On of the 5 guys starts begging me to open the door.
I still refuse.
They all scurry away for a few minutes.
I make noodles and shave my 2 day old beard.
My shaving is rudely interrupted by more loud banging of the door.
The big fat guy starts yelling "Abbey maderchod, raat ko nikal, tujhe kutte ke tarah maroonga"
Somehow I find all this amusing.
The owner is still nowhere to be seen, even though the fat guy is hurling obscenities and threatening physical violence.I found that unnerving.
Finally a guy speaks in english.
He says that he just wants to look at the house because he is buying the house on the third floor.
He seems to be a decent guy.
I tell him that I'll let them in only if they send the big fat guy down and far away.
I figured that they wouldn't have come to steal from us knowing that the guy openly threatened me in front of everybody.
So I open the door and they come in and I tell them to keep their shoes outside and come in.They obey my request politely and come in, and the guy who spoke in english warns me not to fall in between these guys because they are dangerous.
They look around the house for a minute or so and leave.
My room mate still does not emerge out.
I'm still cooling when I finally notice my room mate emerge out.He asks me what happened.I tell him the entire story.He appears shocked.He suggests that we go to the police.
I say that first we talk to the owner, because I sense something fishy.
I see the owner from my first floor window.I call him and briefly explain the events.He says that he will look into it, but he is not too enthusiastic.
I feel uneasy at the owners reaction, and after a few minutes I call my room mate to say that I'm going down to talk with the owner in private.I also told him that he didn't have to come if he didn't want.he said that he would come.
We went down and then we find out...the big fat guy is the owner's nephew...
No wonder!
He promised us that he would be taken care of.
I told him that I would have to report to the police if he even came near me the next time.
That's all
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
I'm not here yet
Everyday I walk into the world with a profound lack of confidence in myself.
The quintessential question being 'Am I Good Enough?'.
Am I good enough for today?
Am I good enough for my job?
Am I good enough for all the people I'll meet?
Am I good enough for my past,
for the life that I live now,
or my destiny that awaits me?
Am I good enough for this world?
I must confess,I am a man of many faces,
of many masks.
These different faces of mine, the masks that I hide behind are not fake, but only reflect all my possibilities...some good, some bad, some in between.
Everyday I put on a grand show for the world and for myself...the actor in me plays his part-the silent warrior,cocksure,supremely confident, unharnessed intelligence...and these roles come easily, almost unrehearsed-for the actor in me has been playing the same role for years.
But I fear...
I'm constantly paralysed with fear that one day all my faces will be gone and all my masks will be stripped away and I will have nothing to hide behind but my core self...and that this core self will be judged and found lacking in all respects, that my core self will be outed as being not good enough.
Maybe that's the only reason that I hesitate to open myself to anyone else, instead longing for loneliness and the safety of solitude.
I remember a life of solitude, lived a few years ago...where I convinced myself that I was happy, and justified it with meaningless structured routines and a hollow day to day existence.Bits and pieces of that former life came floating by as I was zipping across the night sky with the silhouettes of trees and skyscrapers passed by me.I saw you lift your arm and wave as your face lit up with the sense familiarity that I must have evoked.I saw your face drop as I passed without even a hint of slowing down.
I saw you.
I just didn't want to stop for you...
I promised myself a different life when I realised that my past happiness was nothing but a lie...but the dangerous path of self examination might tell me that even this happiness that I possess so tenuously might be nothing but a mirage.
Then is this what is holding me back, not letting me go completely, not letting me surrender to the will of something far more superior...because of the belief that this is not where I'm supposed to be?
Life is elsewhere...or it seems like that.
These days there is more of a void in me than myself...and the lacuna keeps growing, sucking my essence into it and into nothingness-leaving behind husk, a functioning shell of my former self.
If you miss me while I'm with you, its not your fault.
I have to tell you this because its not your fault that you miss me...for I'm not here yet.
I keep holding onto the belief that life is elsewhere...and a part of me is out there, roaming the great unexplored else-where's searching for what it can never find.
I'm not here yet, because another part of me is still stuck in the past hoping that the good old days were where life is(or was).
I'm not here yet...parts of me are just as lost as what you see in front you.
I'm not here yet...but if you care to wait, it might give me the strength to return to myself.
Issendai's Superhero Training Journal - How to keep someone with you forever
http://issendai.livejournal.com/572510.html
Sounds like a Cult Mind Control System
Sounds like a Cult Mind Control System
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Celebrities and Their Physical Defects (17 pics)
http://izismile.com/2010/06/16/celebrities_and_their_physical_defects_17_pics.html
I hope this does wonders to your self esteem!
I hope this does wonders to your self esteem!
Friday, June 18, 2010
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Is there a Misogynist in the house?
http://zerotm.wordpress.com/2010/06/12/american-women-are-absolute-garbage-need-evidence-read-below/
This guy has zero tolerance!
Whoo Boy!
This guy has zero tolerance!
Whoo Boy!
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Rent a White Guy - Magazine - The Atlantic
http://www.theatlantic.com/magazine/archive/2010/07/rent-a-white-guy/8119
Whiteys have all the fun...even in China
Whiteys have all the fun...even in China
Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.
I never write what I'm supposed to be writing.
A long overdue apology letter to a girl for not calling her, not talking to her, not meeting her and basically ignoring her and acting like an asshole...That's what I'm supposed to be writing right now.
Instead I write this.
Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.
I woke up late today, almost at noon, with a parched up throat and a terrible headache.
The maid had let herself in and out.In between she had cooked something for me in the kitchen...I didn't bother to check what it was.
I wore a freshly pressed parrot green t-shirt and an old pair of faded blue denim jeans, brushed my teeth(I think) and let myself out after washing and drying my face.
I didn't know where I was heading, but I knew that I had to get out of the house and if possible, out of my head.I headed towards the train station which was about ten minutes away, but then realised that today being sunday, the trains would be stopped on harbour line from eleven to four in the evening.
So I retraced my path back, still not undecided on where to go...and I walked towards the bus stop.
Immediately I noticed several things.
One girl with her mother...cute(not the mother, but the daughter)
Two girls-young-perhaps in their teens, with guitars in their hands sitting leisurely, chatting with each other.
The girl and her mother both stare at me for a few seconds as I wait on the other side of the street to cross the road.
The guitar girls both stare at me and whisper and giggle amongst each other for they are sure that I will come to them and talk to them.They are right.I wanted to ask one of them if any buses went to vashi from that stop.
With the mom-daughter combo the strategy is simple-
Go sweettalk the mom.
Ignore the daughter.
No.
The daughter does not exist.Its just you and the mom.Once you've asked the mom about the bus schedule, then ease into a conversation by talking about the weather, perhaps inflation, perhaps the state of the government or college entrance cutoff marks.
While you talk to the mom, discreetly wink at the daughter and wait for her reaction.
Never openly make eye-contact with the daughter.
If the daughter still seems to want to talk to you- you then coolly ask the mom about her daughter (of course, in the most offhand and disinterested manner as possible), and while the mom is busy talking to you about her daughter, you slip in ur phone number to her and ask to give you a missed call.
As soon as she gives the missed call, you candidly ask the mom her daughter's name and then feed it to your phone and save it, while making some innocuous
comments on her name(like how her name is similar to that of your sisters).
Its even easier with the guitar girls.Since both of them are in a public place, they will not feel threatened by you.
Rule No.1: Never make a girl physically feel threatened by you.
Since they are already giving you the classic indicators of interest, you should directly go chat with them...not forgetting your original agenda.
Asking about the bus that goes to Vashi.The answer they give is incosequential i.e it doesn't really matter whether they know if any bus goes to vashi or not.
From here it is easy to segue into a variety of topics including their guitars and their status.
Sigh.
They want me to come over and talk to them.
All this I have calculated and though out in under a minute when waiting to cross the road.
Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.
But what do I do?
I walk away.
I remember the splitting headache and the parched throat and I walk away.
A part of me knows too well that I can get the desired results.
Another part of me doesn't want those very results.It asks 'What next?'
Somethings are best left unexlpored and un-ventured.
Status Quo feels safe.
Lets not tangle up our lives shall we.
Potentiality knocks on the door of my heart.
I just choose not to answer the call.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Friday, June 11, 2010
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Just too busy being fabulous...
Mom said,"I Saw her today...and she didn't even look at me... she was being evasive throughout.
She was acting a bit weird...as if I was invisible, especially when I tried to talk to her.
It was as if she was trying to avoid me...
Did you say something to her that would make her act like this?...
By the way, she has lost weight and looks fabulous, even though she was a little over made..."
Mom could easily be psychic about most people.
Especially when she doesn't know them that well.
I said, "If I have said something to her, why would she take it out on you?
She's far more mature to do such a thing.
She doesn't see my image in you.
Maybe she was just too busy being fabulous!"
I hope that what I said is true.
If not, there is nothing worth left to salvage.
(I wish you peace.)
Wednesday, June 2, 2010
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Saturday, May 22, 2010
Healthy Looking
(Overheard Conversations)
Girl: Yeah, hello...haan...accha...you are searching for praneeta?
Mystery person on the Phone:mumble mumble mumble.
Boy: Praneeta...you know what she said to me the other day...
Girl: Haan accha...arre nahin re...you will find her in my class itself...
Boy: You know what Praneeta said to me the other day...she tells me...
Girl: Arre rukh na...I'm talking on the phone na...understand yaar...
Mystery person on the Phone:mumble mumble mumble.
Girl:Haan accha...arre nahin re...you will find her in my class itself...she is a bit dark, is wearing a green salwar...kinda short...and...
Boy :She's fat...SHE'S FAT...SHE'S FAAAAAAT! (His voice rising into a thunderous crescendo)
Girl:And she's a bit healthy looking !....shut up yaar...they can hear you on the phone...
Me (the fly on the wall so far) :Snort..Snort..Snort...Chuckle...snicker...oh excuse me...sorry...I'm sooo outta here !
Friday, May 21, 2010
Crash
The Art of Dying came to me whenever my flight landed in Mangalore...my home town, my birth place, the place where my memories are, the place where my heart belongs.
You see, Mangalore airport is located on a hill top which has been flattened to accommodate a runway , and therefore it has a shorter than usual runway, almost 1/4th shorter.
A pilot once told me that the shorter runway on top of the hill made it some what tricky to land.
You could always feel the added violence whenever a plane landed in Mangalore.
The deceleration was harsher, the brakes were more jarring and the tires screeched louder than in other places.
At these times, I used to wonder what it would mean if the plane crashed and if we all died.
Would I be ready to leave everything behind?
In a world of uncertainty...am I still clinging on to things that I have no control over?
And It finally happened.
Although not to me...
and I feel sad.
My heart feels heavy even though the loss is not mine.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Welcome to my World, welcome to my parlour
Here's a lie that will cheer you up...You're single only because of your insanely high standards that no person can possibly match.
Yeah...right.
Please keep saying that to yourself.
It takes the edge off being lonely.
But don't worry...you are not alone...(snicker)...millions more are alone just like you.
But relax.
Here's a great myth that everyone, amazingly, believes: that everyone else is happy, having fun, living life, and you, all alone, are miserable. That everyone is out there, having amazing glorious sex, while you must content yourself with internet porn.
This isn’t true. Most people are in the exact same spot as you are. And those ‘glorious unions’ you see everywhere? Most of them are simply scared of being alone, so they go off and grab the nearest available person. The others are 'lying' together with vanity.
The big secret is that happy people aren’t as happy as they appear. Many happy people are actually covering up their real problems. But what do you do? You see one of these ‘happy’ people and then you get unhappy at them! You make yourselves miserable as you arrow nasty thoughts from your mind at them, and they don’t even know you.
You think, “It must be nice to be happy. They were born to the right parents, to the right environment. I wish I was like them. I wish I grew up where they did.” You think, “I have all these great qualities about myself. Why can’t someone see it?” Well, no one sees it because they are too worried about themselves.People are not ignoring you; they too are worried about themselves.
I say this because I used to know this girl, who appeared deliriously happy all the time, whenever I was there.
I later came to know that it was an act she used to put up for me.
(Why? I don't know)
She'd break down and crumble as soon as I left.Apparently, she confessed later, that it took a lot of effort and energy to keep up the act.
The strange thing was she wasn't doing this to impress me.
She didn't even like me in the first place.
Her world was a lie.
SO WHAT?
I've changed a lot.
Once upon a time, I was so busy caught up in playing the role of misunderstood loner that I forgot that it was just a role, a make believe persona.
I was caught up in the web of my world, the world of my construct, and no one else was allowed in.
It caused many misunderstandings.People thought I was stuck up...one person even told me that I was arrogant.
I was not.
I was only masking my shyness the best way I could.
People tell me I've changed each time I meet them.
Apparently, people try to define everyone else they meet.We do it all the time.
We try to place people in nicely cut slots to mark where they go.
Most people are static. A year from now, they will probably look the same, act the same, and be the same. But if you are in a state of flux, easily done through a self-improvement (or self-discovery if you will), every slot they try to stick you in will fail.
This is what one girl told me.
She told me that I elude definition.
She tried to put me in a slot and I wouldn't fit there, rather I'd seem to fit there only at certain times and not always...she told me that she eventually gave up.
BTW, she likes me...I mean I've seen girls, and I've seen her...she's the only one who willingly spends a lot of money on international calls.That's right she calls me.
A lot.
Interestingly she has a boyfriend.(or HAD...as she sometimes tells me...I don't know when she's telling the truth any more, and I don't care)
I don't understand her.
But I've stopped trying to understand women.
To me understanding women was a competition based on a fallacy.
A fallacy that women understand men.
A fallacy that women have a better understanding of people all the time.
What a crock of bullshit!
A girl scoffed at me once.
She said men can never understand women the way women understand men.
She told me that she understood men very well.Her tone was sarcastic and bitter.
Remember this.When a woman tells you that she understands men,she's telling you that she understands how to manipulate them.
She was a beautiful girl once, and I assume had many men after her,but I bet that to her surprise she failed!
She failed miserably in attracting a man she fell in love with. I suspect she fell in love with him in the first place because she could not get his attention.That drove her vanity to the edge and she fell in love.
(I confirmed it later...she did fall in love with an older man who acted as if she did not exist)
She woke me up.
Or rather her shattered self worth and self confidence woke me up.
If she , who claimed to know all men could fail, then she knew nothing.
I no longer believe that either sexes know anything about each other.
At least not in the way they want to.
These days I'm no longer worried about what people think about me.
You've read my posts...Do you think I would have written what I have if I was afraid of people?
If I've said that I have changed a lot that would be a lie too.
My core, my essence has not changed much.
I still inhabit a world of my own... for it is of my own construct and liking.The only difference is I let more people into my world.I let them decide.
For example, I tell I show people what I write...because what I write is reality-revised and rewritten...it is my world, reconstructed.
I let them explore my world and let them decide whether to immerse themselves more or simply disengage.
But If they want to enter my world,then it would be at my terms...for my world is my sanctuary, my safe haven, it is hallowed grounds, and meant to be treated that way.
I like to engage people in my world...I call all my friends to my home...meet my family,see my place,get a feel of it, and enter my world.
But I'm selfish.I demand equality.Other worlds and elsewheres are interesting.
So the principle of Quid Pro Quo applies.
I show you mine, you show me yours...so as to speak.
Most of my friendships have broken because of inequality.
So with that I invite you officially...
Welcome to my world...welcome to my parlour...take a look around......feel free to browse...but no touching the merchandise...and if you break it , you buy it...and I'll let you know when the closing time is...and if I like you, you might just get to stay a little longer.
Thank You.
Come Again.
Monday, May 17, 2010
My memories will haunt you
I finally found my story...
This poem has been in my head for more than a year now...and I knew that I had to resolve it, and the only way to do it was to write a story...but I never got the plot.
Today, in a flash, the plot presented itself to me...and I'm delirious with joy...that i can finally write what I intended to write.
"What Happened to All the Nice Guys?"
http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/483318927.html
Yes Indeed...WTF happened to them?
Yes Indeed...WTF happened to them?
Sunday, May 16, 2010
If I thought I knew you...
Is it possible for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another?
We can invest enormous time and energy in serious efforts to know another person, but in the end, how close can we come to that person's essence?
We convince ourselves that we know the other person well, but do we really know anything important about anyone?
Body cells replace themselves every month. Even at this very moment. Most everything you think you know about me is nothing more than memories.
It's the same for you.
You are no longer the same person you were a few days ago.
You are a stranger.
And I don't know you any more.
Not knowing you is like feeling a pain, like a frozen knife stuck in my chest.
An awful pain, but the funny thing is I'm thankful for it.
It's like that frozen pain and my very existence are one.
The pain is an anchor, mooring me here
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
A little bit of both...
Men who pursue a multitude of women fit neatly into two categories. Some seek their own subjective and unchanging dream of a woman in all women. Others are prompted by a desire to possess the endless variety of the objective female world.
The obsession of the former is lyrical: what they seek in women is themselves, their ideal, and since an ideal is by definition something that can never be found, they are disappointed again and again. The disappointment that propels them from woman to woman gives their inconstancy a kind of romantic excuse, so that many sentimental women are touched by their unbridled philandering.
The obsession of the latter is epic, and women see nothing the least bit touching in it: the man projects no subjective ideal on women, and since everything interests him, nothing can disappoint him. This inability to be disappointed has something scandalous about it. The obsession of the epic womanizer strikes people as lacking in redemption (redemption by disappointment).
Because the lyrical womanizer always runs after the same type of woman, we even fail to notice when he exchanges one mistress for another. His friends perpetually cause misunderstandings by mixing up his lovers and calling them by the same name.
In pursuit of knowledge, epic womanisers turn away from conventional feminine beauty, of which they quickly tire, and inevitably end up as curiosity collectors. They are aware of this and a little ashamed of it, and to avoid causing their friends embarrassment, they refrain from appearing in public with their mistresses.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
I Try...Mr.Rushdie, but I don't know where I'll end up.
"Go for broke. Always try and do too much. Dispense with safety nets.
Take a deep breath before you begin talking.
Aim for the stars.
Keep grinning.
Be bloody-minded.
Argue with the world.
And never forget that writing is as close
as we get to keeping a hold on the
thousand and one things--childhood,
certainties, cities, doubts, dreams, instants,
phrases, parents, loves--that go on slipping
,
like sand, through our fingers."
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
Monday, May 3, 2010
The Art of Dying
"Death is not the opposite of life, but a part of it."
— Haruki Murakami
Practice the art of dying everyday.
As soon as you wake up...prepare to take your last breath...expire and let go.
Imagine...vividly...
how it feels to die,
as you free fall backwards
and let the world go by,
and know how liberating it feels
for you are no longer encumbered
by the ties of your past
and all the hopes
of your future...
learn to be still...
so still
that your heart beats no more
your blood slows through the veins
a sheet of silence covers you from head to toe
and time stretches to infinity
Let go of all the old memories- good and bad, let go of all the past associations,all the pain and hurt,all your joy and accomplishments, all your relationships- successful and not so successful, all your doubts and fears.
One has to come to grips with the paradox of learning to let go, of learning to free oneself, of learning to die to - live a better, wholesome, more satisfying life.
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Buzz Kill
It seems like have lost my energy to write these days.
What I have been posting recently were stuff that I had written while on board my last ship.
Today I discovered that I had nothing left that was decently finished enough to post.
If you are waiting for me ...please don't...I don't know how long this phase will last.
But I'm also having the time of my life!
I feel like I've just come alive!
So it might be that I have completed this phase of my life, and have started the next one...where I'm equally passionate in doing what I find exciting.
Having said that, the writer inside me will never die...that hidden person will make his comebacks from time to time when his need will be most felt...most felt by me, not you...sorry...I was never much of a mind reader.
But I'm still here...cheering for you, as always, as usual...
So don't forget...and keep on walking...for our journey of an infinite miles has just begun.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
No seriously...Is not writing a story about...
Is not writing a story about... a man with super sperm which he releases into a water reservoir and gets thousands of women simultaneously impregnated and raises an army of hell spawn with intentions to take over the world...only to be thwarted by Chuck Norris,Steven Seagal and Jean Claude Van Damme.
On second thought...its a good idea...not to write that story.
But he wishes he could...
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
Tested 'OK'
As a kid you were told that you had to pass the test, get good grades so that you could move on to a good school.
You were happy that you had to endure it only until you got into a good school.
But you were wrong.
At school, you were told that acing tests was important to get into a good college.
You were happy that once you got into a good college, you didn't have to worry about being tested.
You were wrong again.
At college you were told that the results of the tests you took got you the jobs you wanted.
You hoped that once you got a good job, that would be the end of this burden of being tested.
You were sadly mistaken.
At work, you were tested for promotions, a bigger pay packet, bigger responsibilities.
You got all of that.Now you hoped you could relax.
Instead you were being tested harder.You were being judged more than ever.
You slowly realised that you'd be tested all your life and it only got bigger and harder.
But somewhere you forgot that you were ignoring life's more important tests.
You somehow never realised that you failed...
only
When you hurt the one you loved.
When you failed to heed the voice inside.
When you ignored your dreams.
When you lost touch of your humanity.
When greed and hate took over.
In your quest for what you never wanted,You never understood that the most important tests in life were not the ones you answered on a sheet of paper.
You never really realised that you'd be tested all your life.
You never really realised that each test was as important as the last one.
You never really realised that life gave you a second chance sometimes, that failing was just a part of the game, just like winning.
The important part was to keep on playing and have fun.
You never realised that your own judgement was more important than what others thought.
At the end of the day, if you still felt you failed, no one could convince you any better.
Or if at the end of the day, you returned home to a smile and a warm hug, no one could convince you that you have failed.
In the end, we all want to be tested.
Its true.
We want to be tested for our self-worth and judged.
We want to be tested and found OK.
In the unlikely case that I'd be buried, I want my epitaph to read "Tested, OK"
Saturday, April 24, 2010
The Joke
I've realised that for a relationship to be deep or meaningful, it need not always lead towards any final conclusion.
Not every friendship need turn into love...not every relationship needs to end in a marriage...nor every love needs to last forever.
Many a times, it is just being with the other person that makes it all worth it.
Love has a cyclical nature...it flows in and out of your life, just like the ebb and flow of tides or the seasons of the sun...
On some days you will feel love flow, while on others you feel its lack.
Some days you are sad for no reason, while on others you are a kite soaring happily over the deep blue skies.
Go with the flow of your life, and don't wish for a final conclusion and never force one if it is not forthcoming.
Not every friendship need turn into love...not every relationship needs to end in a marriage...nor every love needs to last forever.
Many a times, it is just being with the other person that makes it all worth it.
Love has a cyclical nature...it flows in and out of your life, just like the ebb and flow of tides or the seasons of the sun...
On some days you will feel love flow, while on others you feel its lack.
Some days you are sad for no reason, while on others you are a kite soaring happily over the deep blue skies.
Go with the flow of your life, and don't wish for a final conclusion and never force one if it is not forthcoming.
Also I have learnt that one has to choose a person who chooses you
You are only punishing yourself when you want to be in a relationship with a person more than they want to be in a relationship with you.
Of course, you must discriminate between whether he/she is playing "hard to get" or whether s/he is genuinely less interested in the relationship than you.
If it turns out that he/she really doesn't want to be with you as much as you want to be with him/her, then it is time to realize the relationship won't work.
It is better to move on and work with your hurt in this case than to obsess over lost opportunities.
Although I've begun to come to terms with my destiny, I recently witnessed a glimmer of cosmic humour when a joke was played upon me by the supreme court of human destinies.
We weren't meant to be associated, but in a flash, I saw that our names were etched together on electronic memory in a matter of a few bits and bytes.
A wistful and wry smile passed over my face when I saw the minute irony of this association when I finally had disassociated from you.
I protested.But my protests went in vain as the person could only remember me through you.
He went on to explain that this association of names was the only way he could ever hope to remember me.
It was a sad realization that I alone had not much of an identity unless I was inexorably associated with you-something which you precisely never wanted to happen !
The sublime cosmic irony was that,irregardless of our reluctance to be associated with each other- that is exactly how I ended up being - associated with you, in their memories.
The final irony is that no one cares of the so called 'association'.
I think I have developed a keen eye to notice cosmic ironies in life...because all ironies are cosmic.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)