Morality

Morality is the most unnatural of human inventions. It goes against the basic nature of man--the very instinct of survival and procreation! We think it's wrong to lie, murder and have indiscriminate sex because well... it's wrong. But isn't it a very basic instinct of survival--lying and murder to protect yourself and sex to procreate?

Now I'm not saying that I'm going to turn into a murderer or a liar or sleep with people whenever it takes my fancy. In fact, that's the point I'm trying to make. I cannot do all these things because today's society has deemed it immoral and even punishable because it harms the society.

So... it's survival in another level isn't it? Hmm. I seem to have argued myself into a box. Genius.

So much for the loooong post I envisioned. Ah, close this window and forget you ever read this! Unless you want to comment of course :D

The Joys of Depression

I firmly believe in the goodness of depression. I don't mean the long-term, suicidal depression that psychiatrists warn us about, which would perhaps also turn into other exotic mental illness, but the short term fits of 'down'ness that most of us go through. Yes, I believe, through eighteen-and-half long years of experience, in the cathartic effect of a good, old-fashioned, garden-variety pity party.

I truly think that everybody should experience the wonders of wallowing in self-pity at least once in their life time. I'm sure most people would know what I'm talking about: Those times when you think that the whole world is out to get you (when not even a quarter of the human population, [never mind other species] is aware of your existence) and that everybody hates you, nobody loves you, and let's go dig the garden for worms to eat. Somehow there's nothing as satisfying as that feeling! Now I'm not saying it's the same for everyone. I'm sure there are lots of variations in theme such as the I'm-too-fat tirade, or the I'm-too-skinny variation or the I'm-really-a-worthless-person thingummy, or the… well, you get the drift.

The best setting for these moments, I find, would be a dark room or an empty terrace or even a bathroom. As I said, there are variations. You can also get down in the dumps at the top of the Empire State Building (or the LIC building, a lil closer to home). Even trains maybe conducive to the gloomy atmosphere. Oh, and rainy days must be the best times for depression (unless you're an impossible optimist, or a Chennai-ite!). I mean, picture this...

Scene: Indoors.
A window. A windows seat on which sits a young/old man/woman. It is raining outside and said young/old man/woman has his/her face close to the window. In the background is heard weeping violins/wailing sax or simply a depressing song such as 'Why Does It Always Rain On Me'. A (theatrical) teardrop falls down the smooth/wrinkled cheek.

Y/O M/W: Sigh. Woe is me. Oh gloom. Sniff.

Well, I do hope that illustrated my point--the perfection that is rain when it comes to feeling lonely and abandoned.

I, for one, am a master of these mope-fests. I revel in them. I enjoy them. I am completed by them. I make it a point to feel martyred or victimized at least once a month. I mean, one has to keep up standards, after all. And it's awesome, let me tell you! So much so that when you start getting into a better mood, it's with great reluctance that you let go of the feeling.

However, while in these moods, you realize your great capability for feeling down--over nothing! So, the rest of the time, it's quite easy to be bouncy and cheerful because, well... You know you have those special moments waiting for you at the end of the road, where you can feel all persecuted, etc.

Blah.

Your face
A reflection
On the mirror of memories
Splashed with time's waters
Blurred, distant, fading.
The drops remain
Drying slowly
And then they are gone too.

Signs that you are addicted to blogging, have way too much time in your hands and seriously need to get a life.

You check your blog at least once a day, if not once every hour, for comments even though you will be alerted about any new ones by email.

You have multiple blogs even though you have no idea why.

You have blogrolled at least 5 other people and check their blogs out regularly.

You are constantly on the look-out for things to add to your blog to make it more "interesting."

You go through the day thinking at least once, "Hey, I could write a blog post about this!"

You actually recognise people better through their display names than their real ones.

You have learned the basics of HTML just to edit your blog template.

You are scandalised by anyone who doesn't particularly like blogging.

You have edited "comments", "links" and "archives" to suit the 'mood' of your blog.

You find that this post is not really funny but is eeriely similar to your life.

THIS IS A PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT:
-------------------------------------

BLOGOMANIA IS CURABLE IF DETECTED EARLY. IF YOU RECOGNISE ANY OF THE ABOVE SIGNS IN YOURSELF, PLEASE TAKE IMMEDIATE PRECAUTIONARY STEPS. YOU HAVE SEVERAL OPTIONS. THEY ARE (ARRANGED BY ORDER OF DESPERATION, MOVING FROM LEAST URGENT TO MOST):

Get some self control.

Get busy.

Get a life.

Delete your blogger account.

Unplug your internet connection.

Download a virus, crash your computer.

Throw away your computer.

UNFORTUNATELY, IF YOU HAVE THE LAST SYMPTOM (not finding the post funny, but similar to your life, etc.) IT'S TOO LATE. HAPPY BLOGGING!

Fitting in...

I can't. Have never.

Can you? Have you?

Insomnia

Thoughts claw at the mind, filling the brain to the point of bursting. Raw emotions flicker behind my heavy, sleep-deprived eyelids, forcing my mind from its stupor into a tired restlessness. Though the last ray of has light long since disappeared, the scorching red rays of fears and resurfacing nightmares pulse in my mind's eye as sleep eludes me.

I try counting sheep, but all I can think of are the comical sheep that jump fences from some long-forgotten cartoon. Yet the memory fails to elicit the slightest smile from me. I've lost count of the number of times I've tossed and turned. I take a deep breath, force my eyes closed and try to the think of nothing, to imagine me floating, light as a feather, in eternal nothingness. The guy in the book could do it so effortlessly. Hmm. Never finished that series--when is the next boo--? And, just like that, my eyes are wide open again, staring into the darkness.

The silence deafens me. The power failure silences the ac, the fan and the house is unnaturally quiet. The silence seems to press against my ears--so much so that if I let it last long enough, it seems to go 'ping' in my ear.

Light from outside make weird patterns on my walls. My imagination needs little prompting to spin wild images of unspeakable things from these patterns. The curtains flutter from a slight warm breeze. I force my eyes shut again and lie on my stomach--uncomfortably, as the heat makes the mattress stick to me. I mutter and wonder if the night will never end.

I throw pillows on the ground in frustration, then throw myself down too. The cool marble floor welcomes me like a swimmign pool, enveloping the body after a long hard day of work. I sigh... And slip into that blessed land of sleep.
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After typing this out and re-reading it, I feel strangely compelled to justify putting this up on the blog. So bear with me...

I know exactly what brought this on--one sleepless night, duh. I got up and took a piece of paper and started writing this down. Not as brilliant as some other midnight brainwaves, I'm sure! But whatever, just had to put it up for some odd reason. This will probably embarass me sometime in the future, but hey! I don't really like the future me. So ha! She deserves it! ;)

Oh, and do be kind in your comments.

On second thought, spare the kindness. More interesting that way!

Errr... Ummm...

Ok, this is a link ripped off vbk's blog, which says it was ripped off antickpix's blog and so on.

Sheesh! Does this mean no more toddy? Waaaaaah! No fair!

You're Love in the Time of Cholera!

by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

Like Odysseus in a work of Homer, you demonstrate undying loyalty by
sleeping with as many people as you possibly can. But in your heart you never give
consent! This creates a strange quandary of what love really means to you. On the
one hand, you've loved the same person your whole life, but on the other, your actions
barely speak to this fact. Whatever you do, stick to bottled water. The other stuff
could get you killed.


Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

I'm Alone...

Human existence is one of loneliness. We are forever surrounded by people--people who love us, people who hate us, or people who are just indifferent. Yet, at the end of the day, we are alone. By that, I don't mean being left alone, deserted to the cruel clutches of fate or anything so dramatic. I just mean that no matter how many people are around us, we are isolated in ourselves--limited by the body to never experience what anyone else has experience in quite the same way; and limited by our minds to never think exactly as anyone else thinks. We exist in a bubble that will only admit one body, one mind and one soul (if you believe in souls, that is!) and nothing can really penetrate this bubble.

In fact, I think that the whole of human society is built around this. Man wants to escape this sense of loneliness and one way to do so is to surround himself with other humans who again exist in bubbles. The same goes with the whole concept of love, marriage, commitment, etc. People just need to feel that there's someone who can remove them from that bubble and give them company. And so the whole concept of love and relationships of any kind becomes so important.

So everytime this feeling of oneness is threatened, man reacts in the most violent and primitive way possible. That's why religion and patriotism are such touchy subjects and turns ever the most rational minds absolutely unreasonable. The circle of humanity surrounding them--either in the form of people of the same religion or of the same country--is being threatened. And this circle is very important to keep away the sense of loneliness. So obviously, a primal fear triggers a primitive reaction.

This also explains the abundance of conflict in any society. Every human is isolated and no matter how sympathetic a person can be, no one can really escape the confines of their bubble and enter another person's bubble. So no one truly understands what anyone else is going through. And so people start quarreling.

At the end of the day, the undeniable fact remains that we are alone in everything we do. Does this seem to pessimistic and cynical? Well, I am pessimistic and cynical. Or maybe you just can't see what I see from your bubble!

Tra la la...hmm mm.... la la la LAAA!

Awesome weather! This, I feel, deserves a separate post.

It's been a looong time since chennai was overcast and cloudy like this. It's cool, with just the right temperature and humidity. It's put me in such a good mood that not even sounding like a weather forecast can stop me from humming!

Hope it pours. Maybe that's asking for too much, but hey, I can hope, can't I? Well anyway, enjoy the weather. It's too good to last long, I'm sure.

Hmmm mmm... la lala... tra la.

:D :D :D

Blog the Third

Well I've gone and done it this time.

Hmm. Only after I typed that out did I realise how that sounds. Anyway, too lazy to hit backspace now.

It's just that I've started another blog. My third blog... four if you count the git blog too. This one will be quite regularely updated I think. It has all my favourite lyrics. You can find out more for yourself. Go see now. Shoo.

Oops. Almost forgot the link. Here it is. (Clickety click!)