Friday, January 3, 2014

Resolution time!

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that the whole idea of "New Year's Resolutions" is terribly clichéd. But there is something oddly appealing about a fresh new start in a brand new year and all that jazz, don't you think? It presents a clean slate, a new beginning, a foolish hope of getting one's act together (in spite of Murphy's Law: that unpredictable force of nature which specialises in making life hell). Such wildly fanciful optimism infects gullible folks (like me) with Temporary New Leaf Syndrome: a leading cause of self-delusionary behaviour at the onset of major events (like Birthdays, New Years and Mondays). Symptoms include impossible resolutions, dare-devil bucket lists, random bouts of euphoria (except on the dreaded Mondays) and wholesale consumption of sappy self-help books. Thankfully it is temporary as the name suggests, with effects rarely lasting over a month. For this reason, violation of a New Year's Resolution is considered a healthy sign of normality, ipso facto* absolving the violator of all responsibility. (In short: There's nothing to lose really, so I've made some resolutions because why not?)

Write, damn it, and write more often.
Writing out my coherent thoughts as well as frequent and silly ramblings is something I find really enjoyable. And doing things that make one happy - that's what they say a good life is all about. (Now I don't really know who they are, but apparently they are some sort of important people as everybody is always talking about them. So I've decided to trust them and see where that goes.)

Abuse social media to the maximum.
Otherwise, me watching all those inane videos and diligently blocking every facebook game amounts to nothing, and that's just sad. I've resolved to not be the abusee anymore, but join the massive throngs of abusers by unashamedly plugging my blogs every opportunity I get. So you better read my posts or else! (Unless you've already had enough and proceeded to block me, in which case... err, awkwarrrd.)

Try to make less of a fool of myself.
The keywords here being try and less, because it's not humanly possible to ensure never to make fool of self. It is probably foolhardy to admit, but it's easy to get me all flustered and riled up. I can't even see through good-natured ribbing very often. I'm also supposedly a veritable touch-me-not (my mom still calls me that sometimes, after calming me down when I behave like a hypersensitive adolescent). Thankfully I'm getting marginally better as I grow older; or maybe I've begun to just take myself a little less seriously. But I'm hoping to somehow speed up the process and achieve equanimity, inner peace, nirvana and all the fun stuff before I'm a hundred and fifty.

Worry less.
To me, it's a fundamental fact of life that a certain amount of worrying is necessary to get things done. It doesn't matter who does it, as long as someone somewhere is fulfilling the required quota of worriment and foregoing their share of merriment. Sadly no one agrees on this, and I always end up doing all the heavy-duty worry work. So I really need to help people around me understand that they ought to step up and start worrying more so I may hyperventilate a little less for God's sake! Truly, the amount of help some folks need...

Procrastinate less and do more.
Although I honestly don't know how to, as this is in direct conflict with my one big indulgence which is to be a lazy bum. I've tried it all:
  • Compulsive list-making (somehow everything takes even longer).
  • Elaborate time-tables (got trapped in recursive hell of time-table entries for 'time for making time-tables').
  • Penalties for not sticking to plans (which I'm too lazy to dish out to myself, and moreover, there's simply zero fun in doing that).
  • Incentives for sticking to plans (like a nice book - the thought of which makes me happily abandon all plans, and for which I must visit the library first even though I always have at least twenty books at my disposal due to frequent book buying and prior trips to the library that had been made expressly for such occasions**, or a warm gooey chocolate brownie.... ermm hey I got to go, will be right back).
  • Enhancing mind-focus through pranayama, yoga and suchlike. (Three excruciating classes, after which I've begun to doubt if I actually come from the same culture. Why wouldn't my genes know this stuff otherwise?! Cannot handle an identity crisis on top of all this craziness!)
Clearly, nothing has worked so far. Help, I'm being sucked into the procrastination vortex!

*Disclaimer: Any sort of pretentiousness found here is mostly purely fictional. You may come across occasional snobbery and pompous verbiage, employed solely for the purpose of keeping myself amused while my rusty fingers catch up with the thoughts running amok in my head.
**Please remember to breathe between my long-winded sentences. It doesn't bode well for my blog (and of course you, my dear reader) if you pass out while reading this. If you are still conscious at this point, Happy New Year!

Sunday, October 30, 2011

Halloween android scare!

*Disclaimer: No androids were harmed in the writing of this post :|

Annual pumpkin-carving contest prize-winner :D

What can I say? Fanboys will be fanboys anywhere, and my workplace is no exception :P While I gave an amused smile that translated to "you wish!", my phone started vibrating angrily and almost jumped out of my hand. I think it wanted to enter the battlefield, apps in hand, and fight the evil and rotten "fruit". Or probably it was expressing its chagrin at me for clicking this highly inaccurate picture of its fellow androids. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a call that my phone refused to answer while in serious contemplation of its enemy (if that's not a good reason for not answering calls, I don't know what is!).

But I must say: Well played, apple fanboys and fangirls. Well played. We may be those nerdy software developers working on antiquated dell desktops, but we never fail to give credit where credit is due, even to our uber-cool UI counterparts wielding sleek and shiny imacs. So, haha! Good one. Touché.

P.S.: Now that apple fans all around the world are done lamenting their lives away, let me just mourn in peace the demise of Dennis Ritchie (Who is he, you ask? *sigh* Your pretty macs and phones would be pretty pieces of junk had it not been for him, but never you mind. Go on living in your iBubble). R.I.P. Dr. Dennis Ritchie. Thank you for your original contributions to computing, because of which we are where we are today. In a world where glitter and shine are valued more than true genius and innovation, and how well you sell and how much you earn is appreciated more than what you create, you may not have turned many heads, but you will be missed by the grateful few of us.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

An ode

A burst of light through sunkissed leaves
A dance of color on crystal reefs
A pattern of ripples the ocean weaves
I am miracle. I am beauty.

A resolute march across unknown land
A valiant pen in fate's reckless hand
The travails of doubt I boldly withstand
I am courage. I am duty.

A roar of wind swirling the skies
Towering waves that crash and arise
Embodiment of fire and ice
I am chaos. I am strife.

A wanderer’s quest for final abode
A leap of faith on an unseen road
A vista of mysteries I slowly unfold
I am a journey. I am life.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

Snowed in

Day 1: Oh God, not again! I hate snow! I'm sick of it! Oh please go away and leave me alone!

Day 2: Thank God for snow!! Saved me 100 bucks... yippee! :) (long story involving rent checks, procrastination and snowstorms :|)

Day 3: Pleeeease let there be a snowstorm tomorrow... whatever it takes to cancel classes. God, are you listening...?

Day 4: Yay it's snowing! No classes today!! ...wait, what?! Only morning classes cancelled?? This is not fair, I say! I hate this! I hate snow!!

How selfish and fickle-minded I am.

Thursday, February 4, 2010


Even as a kid, I was crazy about books. Not boring textbooks made of bad quality paper, mind you, but colourful books with glossy pages full of unheard-of stories, and characters that you adored, hated or simply loved laughing at! Maybe it was the smell of books that I loved best, or the fun in narrating stories to other kids. Or maybe, sweet stories with nice people and happy endings always made me happy. I was partial towards both Amar Chitra Katha and Archie, loved Suppandi and Jughead equally (and was thrilled when nicknamed Shikari Shambu! :)). My adoration of Uncle Pai and Enid Blyton grew, as did my collection of fairytales and kiddo books, with my fortnightly trips to the bookstore. That was when I started noticing those big fat books with shiny titles and hundreds of pages. Even Tinkle’s double digest - a real treat gifted or bought only on rare occasions - looked tiny beside them. Imagine my surprise when Dad told me they were all just single stories! “How long and fascinating each must be”, I thought. I so wanted to read and own them. “Someday I’ll have a library of my own. Bigger than the one at school, with all the best books in the world!”, I decided.

I had a simple plan: Marry rich prince, buy tons of books. No wonder my favourite fairytale hero was The Beast himself, right since I first watched Disney’s version of Beauty and the Beast. In the scene where he gifts Belle this gigantic library with spiral staircases reaching towering racks full of books, I instantly fell in love with The Beast, and no Prince Charming has ever come so close again. I mean, how can someone who just kisses the girl to wake her out of a dead slumber, or finds her with the help of a stupid designer glass sandal, even compare to The Beast? The sweetness, the chivalry, the silent adoration... (sigh!) he was a real gentleman... oops! beast. So anyway, that was my plan; until I grew up some more and thought of a better one: To build my library myself, one book at a time.

I started with Dad’s old books, eagerly waiting for the annual house cleaning frenzy when my Mom and Aunt would pack huge boxes full of books to be “safely stored away” in the attic. Sorting through all those “serious” books on science/religion/philosophy (I was in 7th standard, and in my defense, I had my own science textbook :P), I’d strike gold once in a while and find fiction/humour. Some turned out to be duds, but most of them were amazing books that I’m glad to have read.

So I hogged every genre I came across (good for me that Dad never really liked self-help books), (re)discovered authors, and grew more obsessed with my mini-library... then I started borrowing and lending, reading and loving more books, and meeting more people who shared this beautiful obsession. The problem? Almost all the books I borrowed were returned, and the ones I lent are not back yet - and I don’t know if they’ll ever be. That leaves me where I was years ago. Materially, at least. Sure, I ended up reading, liking and being influenced by a lot of books. Sure, I laughed and felt and learnt all along. And yes, I now love reading more than ever. But what about my precious books that introduced me to the joy of reading? I really miss them today, and not just because I crave a library of my own. I can only hope they’re still in circulation - being read and loved by other book lovers - and not left forgotten in some corner, to gather the dust of time...

Current mood: Wistful/Nostalgic
Currently reading: The Zahir, a book about obsession by Paulo Coelho