Saturday, 19 February 2011

On Self (because it's a topic I like)

A fellow mortal asked me to write about myself. I pointed out that that's what I always do because I'm such a narcissist. Fellow mortal still insisted. And I thought about it. And I can come up with nothing. Well, almost. Err, no. Quite a bit.

I mean, I am a motley idea of all the movie or literary characters I like. What I present to another is mostly what an ideal me should have been. A bit of real me here and there manages to wriggle into the idea, which of course makes the scenario less than perfect. I crack obnoxious jokes bordering on obscenity. Though I consider them to be crap put into words in various forms, I whole-heartedly enjoy them while at it.

I wish to appear to be all strong willed and intellectual but I cry each time, when Shahrukh Khan dies in Kal Ho Naa Ho, or when Amitabh and Jaya sing the last song in Abhimaan. I also cry during the last scene of You've Got Mail because, well, what the heck, it has Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan. And I cry the most during the last episode of Friends, and to recover from the trauma, I see the first episode of season 1 right after that. Obviously I end up watching the 10 seasons all over again, and the cycle continues. And I don't see an end to it. Not that I want to see an end.

I also like to dramatise situations to give to it a touch of glamour. I often end up making it seem even more boring, as some of my friends are likely to think. What the heck, I am not a newspaper reporter, and to think of it, they exaggerate in a worse manner. When I was in school, I had the negative idea that I am a terrible speaker when it came to talking on something remotely substantial, may be because I imagined judgemental eyes lurking in every corner. College has somewhat shed that inhibition. So now I have qualified from terrible to the coveted position of merely being bad, and I've made peace with it.

I enjoy writing but more than anything else I enjoy writing about my perceptions, my ideas and mostly myself. I have never come across a person so deeply involved in the study of self. I don't enjoy drinking because it somewhat makes me want to vomit and give acidity that isn't good for neighbours. Plus it makes me feel giddy but does not induce me to do things that I wouldn't have done if I were not alcoholically charged. I don't like to smoke either. May be because my braces won't allow me to hold a cigarette comfortably. And anyway I can't do the sexy-chick-with-a-black-cigarette-in-hand thingy. I'll come across as a freaky-adolescent-trying-but-failing-to-act-over-matured. And this won't be cool.

I personally dislike Hyper-hormonal-I-shall-smother-you-with-love PDA but enjoy watching them while people are at it. I am also bugged by people who criticise others on the basis of looks. Makes me feel embarrassed.

And if I go on rambling anymore, I myself shall get bored.


Friday, 11 February 2011

The usual pre-examination-blues post

I don't see any purpose of examinations. Knowledge is too profound to be put on paper and assigned marks on it's side. I mean, And if the purpose is to test one's knowledge anyway, they might as well have questions testing our wisdom, err, regarding hormonal surge of a person if an attractive fellow winks at her, or the typical pre- Valentine's Day 'she loves me she loves me not' dilemna. Now these are real questions that has bothered the minds of fellows at some point of time or the other.

What are we to do with the evolution of capitalism and the likes anyway? As far as I can see, capitalism hasn't evolved much for us. We are still digging too deep into the pocket with a hole to come out with some moolah, and for the ones who have the the disadvantage of being entangled into a 'forever a single-partner genuinely committed' relationship, most haven't successfully enslaved the other for some marginal monetary profit here and there. Nevertheless, fellows are hell-bent on making us what are supposedly considered to be intellectual, and we shall always be questioned with great gusto on the greater social scenario and all that confusion that each man created before ultimately hitting the bucket: I mean, we human fellows aren't ever happy with the eat-drink-hunt-sleep-reproduce kind of a routine and thus we have to study history for all the mess they created and we are creating now, simply because we high and mighty mortals don't like the things as they are. Ever.

But my ramblings isn't ever going to work. The desire to test knowledge shall continue, with the residue of a sense of being hit at the posterior with a very intellectual kick of mankind, forever.