TaGgEd?!?! Again?!?!?!

Whaa?? Jahnavi tagged me? Goodness, I'll be known as the local Dog if I wear so many tags!


Eight Simple facts about me:

1> I take too many things to heart. Unlearning what I know is a difficult process.

2> I detest smokers. I think pouring hot tar down my lungs is a much easier and faster process. Don't worry, it dries later too.

3> The worst emotion I have experienced is the desire to express myself but an inability to do so.

4> Randomness runs in my blood. It's been injected, I think.

5> Being lonely and happy at the same time may seem contradictory. I'm a live exception.

6> Music is a life-support system to me. Take it away from me, watch me writh in pain and die. Do not ask me my favourite band. I think it's the most ambiguous question anyone can ask.

7> I detest shady SMS lingo. It takes not more than 6 seconds (calculated, of course. Nothing I do or say is Random) to type out the whole word.

8> I don't like stereotypes.


There, sister, done!
I tag the Rambler and the Shiny Oddball :P

Adieu?

Elation? The deep desire to jump with joy and pat the next sad person on his back and say "Cheer up mate, life's amazing"?

Maybe that. Yes. Emotions running through my head when I walked out of the COEP auditorium with a VJTI production engineering seat under my belt. Well, in my file, literally speaking. The distant dream was a rampant reality. I was in a good college, a good branch, and most importantly, living on hostel. Living where superfluous restrictions are non-existent. Where adenalin can run free and control me. Where I don't have "irritating elders" telling me to sleep on time, telling me to change into better clother, telling me to lower down the volume of the speakers.

Oh but wait, I did have to come home after that. I was jumping around the place. Jack (yes, the one in the box) would've been proud. I told almost everyone i knew and cared about, congratulatory calls came, everything happened, and then it was that time when I had to break the news to the most important person - myself. Some call it "sinking in". I call it convincing myself.

This was not what I had expected. I'd expected me to be understanding, all waiting to leave this place, spread my wings and fly away! But what was THAT emotion doing here? A desire to explain, a deep, enchanting feeling of belonging? Of protection? Who would've imagined the self-convincing would've been so hard? Well i won't say hard. It was the kind of feeling you get when someone tells you that a loved one has met with an accident, but he's gonna be allright. Happiness or sadness?

As if on cue, Bittersweet Symphony crooned on. I think my computer has a mind of it's own. I'm gonna miss it, among other things.

Whippee!!!

I promised the Rambler the other day that I'd blog everyday. Hasn't quite materialised.

Maybe I should stop expecting too much from myself. Maybe I should revise the specification for a "Random Thought" to be a "Blog Post". Maybe there should just be a Bijection between those.

Oh, there's a long way to go for THAT.

Realisation struck me somewhere up the line that my fitness resembles that of a Sloth Bear. I need to get my ass moving. And FAST.

Nothing else comes to me right now. It's 8:30 am, the time when sleep really gets going usually. Imagine if an owl comes up to you in the afternoon and gives you a hi-five. :

Goodnight folks :D

The Night was Black

The night was black.



The thunder cracked like a whip off a reluctant horse. Seconds earlier, the dim restaurant had been lit up the flash of lightning. And minutes before that, an event had ignited a chain of thoughts in my mind.



Five Point Someone. Mr Bhagat's book was the ignitor. A cousin sitting at the table had said something that raised my thinking above the spinal level for the first time, ever since it had lay dormant there post-exams!



"All IITians or to be IITians hate that book. I wonder why", she said. Doesn't quite have the effect of "Charge for the guns", she said, but yeah, that was what she said. Try as i did, I couldn't conjure words to explain why. This inability didn't hurt me as much as the knowledge that somewhere deep down, I knew the answer.



The minutes rolled by. The food, drink and the dessert got us all purring like content cats. An eventless drive home later, the thoughts returned. What was it that was pinching me? Why did the need to justify myself overcome the desire of curling up in bed after a flawlessly brilliant dinner?

And then flew up another emotion. Maybe it was the food combined with the rain beating on the glass window. Maybe it was Floyd's "High Hopes" running in my ears. But right there, my levels of self-doubt reached the foundation rods. I questioned the basics of all that I had learnt to the extent that would've made punkism proud.

I have always sought one thing in life. My Holy Grail. The Golden Mean. That one position in life when you're in control of everything that u hold dear. Perfect optimisation. Not unlike the null-magnetic-field position of interacting magnetic fields.

A passing thought came to me. Does the golden mean exist? A moment of doubt and pain. The presence of Lucifer.

Two entirely unrelated emotions. Unrelated to my comprehension. Until this moment.

The night was black.