Countdown

What if you were faced with the realization of your own mediocrity? What would you do if you realized your lack of worth? What would you do if I told you that your life was meaningless?

I give you three seconds to think about it. Till then I'll go back to pondering over the fate of a lone pine cone.

Three seconds.

Muse

The verb. Not the band.

I can't sleep. Too restless. Therefore, I have decided to write another rambling post about the many random ramblings in my mind. For example, why, as a media student, am i so blissfully unaware of what's happening in the world? It's like a paradox really...I wonder if doctors keep updated with the latest House MD episodes, although its not quite the same thing. Speaking of which, why isn't thunk a word? Doesn't it make more logical sense than "thought"? Who makes all these annoying rules about how we should talk? To that group of elderly crackpots sitting at a round table (or maybe rectangular) discussing more arbitrary rules of grammar, I say, stuff it. Freedom of speech is a human right, after all. Although incorrect grammar is jarring on the senses...hmm. The power these old folk have, the exhilaration of...wait for it...inventing grammar.

Power is a funny topic. (As a sidenote, just recently I was cured of the impression I'd always been under that Atilla had been woman. All these years, I'd imagined a nun (hun, nun, same difference) charging, sword drawn, yelling "This is Spartaaaaa!" End of sidenote.) Back to Power. Yes, personified. No one knows why, upon attaining Her (yes, it's feminine) people suddenly lose their sense of self. Become overly pragmatic. Delusional. Sadistic. Egoistic. Tainted. Corrupted. Maybe Machiavelli would know. And God. And AS (what do you mean, you've never heard of him?) But besides these three legendary entities, the rest of us are just pawns to our our mind games. And why, exactly, do humans think so much? Which genetic glitch made us fall prey to our own musings? I ask you, yes YOU, weren't we happier eating fruits, swinging from trees and picking bugs off each other?

Bah, evolution. Christmas is 9 months away. Sigh.

Imperfect

Come walk in silence. Through rain or shine. Through thunder or sunsets. Come walk, and maybe let's talk about mundane things, simple things, like ketchup with paranthas. Or coffee shops. Let's talk about dreams, about ambitions, about desires. Let's learn through each other. Let's cry together, laugh together. Maybe we'll hum a tuneful song. Maybe we can sing off-key. Maybe we'll dance through puddles. We can look up and smile at the streaks of sunlight streaming through clouds. We can smile at the sound of leaves crunching underfoot.

Please don't shut your doors. Please don't suffer alone. Please, sense me beside you.

Let's rejoice in silence, in our footsteps.

Let's rejoice in ourselves.

Let's rejoice.

Blind

The world as we see it is not, in fact, as we see it at all. What is, isn't; what isn't, is. As inspired by Sartre. So then, what is? Slightly confusing, I know. But imagine, nothing is what it is. What a way to think about the world. The book you left sitting behind you right now may not be there. The cotton candy you were eating wasn't cotton candy at all. Maybe the author of this blog never actually wrote this entry. Maybe you aren't really reading this. Maybe this is all a dream. Nay, I hear you cry, but it does exist! And that - that exact conviction - is what belief is.

To believe. An action which carries so many hopes, wishes, dreams, realities or delusions. Never has a word so unabashedly defied logic. How can we simply believe? Without thinking of the repercussions? Without realizing that, maybe, there really is no truth? That maybe something we believe in may the next day turn out to be as fake as Osama bin Laden's love of pottery? (I know I shouldn't make assumptions about the man's tastes and preferences, but I'd like to think this is a safe bet.)

So, why do we believe? Which stupid chromosome made it possible for mankind to start believing in things? There is no answer. We believe that tomorrow, the sun will rise. We believe that no, our friends will never betray us. We believe that cows will keep providing the whole human race with milk and ice cream for years to come. (Really, how can we be sure?) And we believe that in the end, there will be a happy ending for us. Wouldn't you call this delusion? To think that the word is full of people like this.

I smile at the thought.

Yellow

There are many things in the world worth puzzling over. The connection of the title to the rest of this blog is not going to be one of them. Lately, I've been pondering over many other things. Like the unbearable mist that's settled over the future, which once used to be so clear. Now it's like the future is just a myth, the goals and ambitions were just playful fantasies. Like houses built out of cheese. Or the Easter Bunny.

But today was one of those days where you could actually enjoy still being a kid, even though technically in society you've been branded as an "adult," whatever that implies. Eating cake, watching How I Met Your Mother, and chilling with your friends, laughing for no reason...what could be more perfect? Makes you appreciate the simple pleasures of life. There's this line that I heard, in Planet Earth, which went like "Any feeling of emptiness is an illusion" and although that line was just a passing comment about the vastness and seemingly idyllic nature of...well, nature, the line stuck to my brain like chewing gum to the bottom of my flats. The day I watched that episode was troubling, to say the least, and thinking about this line...I was confused whether or not it was a positive thought. Is the impossibility of ever being empty a depressing thought or a reassuring one? I still don't know. Sometimes you want to drain all emotions out of your system, become blank. Sometimes the emptiness is oppressing. There're some things not worth puzzling over. Living your life is more important.

Yellow.

Spiderwebs

I've decided to restart my blog after multiple prods from sources that shall remain unknown so that they don't revel in the satisfaction of knowing that they succeeded in their attempts to create a change in my otherwise lackadaisical existence. That, and I have too many things on my mind which need to be unloaded. Things have changed. I'm still trying to figure out whether for the better or for the worse. Suddenly, it's like I'm not backstage anymore, I've been pushed out onto the stage, in full limelight. Ready to act my part. But the problem is...I don't really know my lines. And improvisation was never my forte. Hence the state of quandary which perpetuates my every thought these days. And the need for release. And this new post. Now, to organize things in my mind.
I don't believe in love. That was my main thing in life for a very long time. It still is in fact. Talking to married couples who can't bite back their cynicisms regarding the whole institution of marriage, so many dissatisfactory marriages, so many regrets...it's bound to leave an impression. When the only true love story you see is in a movie, it's tough to believe that they still exist when the real life examples don't have the same results. Sometimes I think the reason Shakespeare killed off Romeo and Juliet is because, if they had gotten the chance to consummate their love, and get married and all that, the magic would surely have disappeared. The charm of their love would have worn off eventually. Perhaps they, too, would become like every other squabbling couple on this planet. Imagine her telling him to not keep his sword lying around the house, or him arguing with her for not stuffing the pheasant they way he likes it. Maybe Shakespeare thought that the message of the play would be better enunciated if the lovers died as that, as lovers.
This cynicism scares me. Recently, I had an eye opener of a discussion with one of my friends (btw, trust me, this does NOT happen often) and I realized that, holding on to this belief that love doesn't exist, I was digging my own grave. This tough exterior, besides shielding what's on the inside, is also keeping me from realizing that maybe there IS something out there that's close to love. If not the Disney kind, then atleast the normal, human kind. The belief is probably a result of commitment-phobia, that stupid fear of trusting anyone lest they hurt us.
I've started thinking things over now. I'm giving this whole love thing a chance. I'm dusting off the old spiderwebs. Let's see what they uncover.

Life is Like a Basket of Puppies Sometimes

I don't know what I mean by that title, really. Actually I guess I do, life is just so nice and cute and playful that you just wanna take it home and feed it and don't want it to grow up and be all lazy. Make of that what you will. Moving on, why is it that there are always certain things in life which insist on making the latter painstakingly awkward? Let's call subject in question Melman (yes, the giraffe in Madagascar). Yes, we all know he likes Gloria, but if she makes it very clear that she is NOT interested, is it necessary to follow her around like a lost puppy? (Again with these puppy examples...I have dogs on the brain) Hold your head up high and have some dignity, man! I mean, giraffe! Sigh. Ah well, can't have all your eggs in one basket. Erm, yes that didn't make any sense, but neither do a lot of things in life.
Like, for example, why that ONE person you want most to pay all his attention to you just doesn't (atleast not to your complete satisfaction). But, let's not make this one of those blogs where teens drone on and on about their crushes. Except for like one more minute. Let's call this subject Horton (because I recently saw the movie. that is one funny elephant! with a very cute ass), and Horton is a very confused little elephant who doesn't know what he wants in life. He's already fallen for some of the Who-ville chicks, and moved past them as well. For now, I'm trying the whole "I couldn't give a donkey's ass" technique, so let's see how that turns out. Ok, this is turning into the oldest story in the book, so NEXT.
College is a pain most of the time. Never in my life have I ever encountered a teacher so close minded as the one who took my class this morning. Aren't teachers supposed to be open to new ideas?! No, we're NOT here to agree to whatever some lady standing in front of us says. Excuse me, but we're adults, and we should be able to disagree and form our own opinions! We have OPINIONS and if we can't express them in a course that calls itself Media and COMMUNICATIONS, then obviously there's a problem there. I'd say more but again, I find myself being made a fool of by time. If that made sense. Basically, it's late. So, signing off again, hoping the puppies haven't grown up too much by tomorrow.