actuality.log

I’ve finally been cracked.

Apparently showers are where I get most of my thinking done. I just realized events in the recent (and not so recent) past have finally gotten to me. I no longer see the world through my rose coloured glasses. I no longer believe everything happens for the good. And I definitely don’t see it as a terribly nice place filled with caring folk anymore.

People in general don’t really give a damn about loyalty, honesty, morality (and other such words ending with ‘ty’) and they sure as hell don’t ever really care about you. (Of course, this sort of premise hopefully excludes things like a mother’s feelings toward her child, because otherwise, I am being plain mean right now.) No one’s really going to go too much out of their way to ensure that peace and harmony and so on are ensured. Forget large scale things like that, even to put a smile on someone else.

People do what’s best for themselves, at whatever costs. Sure, that’s why we have laws like “killing other people is wrong” to prevent this from being extrapolated to the extreme, but within these broad limits, people do exactly what’s good for them. Something better comes along, by all means, go ahead and take it. Who cares if you’ve worked at the same company who’ve treated you well for 5 years? You’re getting a better sounding deal somewhere else, just leave. And a few lies here and calculated silences here and there never really hurt anybody right? I used to think criteria involving ethics dictated such decisions, but apparently not. Guess who has more money in the bank? Omarosa or yours truly?

So listen up everyone who believed the world exists to be nice to you and that everything happens for the best. All you have to do is be nice to it in return.

You’ve been lied to. You can be as kind, gentle, caring, generous… as you’d like, just don’t believe in karmic balances. The world will not hesitate to screw you over either way.

Unfortunately for the evil world, it doesn’t realize it doesn’t take too much to push genius to cross that line to evil genius.

Unfortunate indeed.

Damn I hate marathons. No, not the kinds in which people run insane distances just because they can. Well, actually, I’m not particularly fond of those either. I mean these marathons on TV, where they show 192 episodes of the same awesome show back to back realizing there are jokers out there with no self control (*hint hint*) who will sit through the entire thing even when they have far far more important things to do.

When S told me about today’s Simpsons marathon the day before, I was all pfft, I’ve seen them all anyway, I’ll be concentrating on my reading. By which, I obviously meant I’ll be sitting in front of the TV all day without batting an eyelid. What is it with men, the remote and the Simpsons?

Though I’m happy to report that didn’t result in me giving up on my run in one day. In fact, I increased the distance covered by about 50% today. But since parts of my body seem to have enough neurons to make their own decisions, this just means a smaller portion of the actual run involved running. It might not have been the best idea for other reasons as well. I ended up apologizing to this homeless guy for being a non smoker. Good god, after his pestering, I almost wished I smoked. And unrelated, I’ve just been told I’ve got womanly legs. Now I am not entirely sure what that’s supposed to mean, but I’m sure it’s no compliment. Now I can’t even joke about waxing.

First I lost the staple saggy man breast bit (long story), and now this. This has not been a great week for punch lines. God damn it.

Though I don’t usually notice such things, the weather has been extremely weird for the past few days. It’s like 70 degrees in the day, and there are these hail storms with marble sized pellets at night (global warming anyone?). Apparently they dent cars and chip off paint and so on.

I’ve had this on my mind for a while now, but then I hadn’t looked at the specifics too carefully. Today, I’ve started changing that. I’ve been going through different sorts of organizations which exist to help children in need, and I hope to make the right choice sometime soon. For a not-so-large sum every month, I get the glorious feeling of being able to put a smile on a kid’s face. Apparently, you even get to see pictures and write to them. I’m pretty certain I want to do this.

Yes world, you heard right, I am sponsoring a child. Wish me luck.

(Yes, I’m desperately attempting to figure out the deep seated personal gain here too. I will definitely let you know the moment I find it.)

And in a moment of culinary genius, I think I just burnt a bag of microwaveable popcorn. Sheesh. I better go.

I would just like to let the world know I was finally able to force myself to go out and run for forty minutes today. This is huge, because I have finally acknowledged the fact that not everything will necessarily be handed to me, and some things require work. Keeping this up or improving on this is going to be a real challenge, not like doing well on some test. Which is a good thing, since I need something to quell this newly spawning wave of cockiness.

I would by lying if I didn’t clarify that the “run” was more like a fast (by my standards) jog for about ten minutes, a slow (even by my standards) jog for about twelve minutes, a normal walk for about ten minutes, and a literal crawl on all fours for the remaining eight as I struggled to make it back home.

I would be lying if I said my legs don’t feel like jelly and are not killing me now. I would be lying if I said I don’t feel faint and my head’s not throbbing.

I am the most unfit person alive. This will definitely change that.

It’s going to kill me.

Today was, well, quite awesome. The feeling of being abandoned is slowly being morphed to a sort of free. (Imagine the puppet in that wireless laptop ad running around the lawn all unthetered.) I’m not happy happy. I just feel.. free. Not accountable.

I’m slowly regaining control over my own happiness. And I’m a surprisingly happy person. Who’d have known?

At least until next relapse, anywho.

I can safely say this was the best hair day (and if there is something such as a skin day, that too) I’ve ever had, ever. I’ve lost (or misplaced or had stolen or …) three hats over the past few weeks and I’ve been forced to gradually change to a continuous ponytail for about a week now. For the past few days I’ve been tying it rather effortlessly without a mirror. And today it happened, the epitome in quality of (my personal) hair styling.

Again, pretty much by definition. At the rate I’m losing hair, in a little while I won’t even have a hair day. Forget good, great, or best ever.

And I’ve been reconsidering working out. And by working out I mean slow jog or long walk. Because no matter what women tell me about being funny, you don’t see them trampling over Brad Pitt in a stampede to get to Gilbert Gottfried now, do you?

I was up late last night all alone fishing around with colour tables trying to come up with combinations for art someone else’d find cute, hash and rehash humour ideas and fun wordplay that I hoped would make someone else smile, go through this seemingly infinite play list (favouring those I could sing, well) in my head to come up with “an irresistible” subset to precisely articulate all that I needed said to someone else. (By “an irresistible”, I think I was hoping I’d be irresistible after the recipient heard it? I don’t really know.)

And then it happened, I snapped. I stopped seeing the purpose in what I was doing or what I hoped to achieve. I was literally screaming “Good god what am I doing with my life” internally. It think it hit me, hard, that some things aren’t designed to be fixed with effort.

I’ve now indefinitely shelved 3 or 4 attempts at “expression masked with fluff”. And, at the moment, I hope I don’t weaken and ever reopen them again unless I’m very sure it’s going to result in something tangible. Something more than me having to deal with the hurt of attempting to open myself, just to have it seem pale in comparison to other things I cannot always comprehend or match up to. It’s like, when you’re this drug addict (according to what I see and hear from the media anyway), you have to hit this extremely low point before you realize everything’s a horrid mess and needs to be revamped. Not revamped to become glorious. Just to be ok – to be on par with some generic measure of central tendency.

I think I reached that point last night. Not that it was terribly different or depressing or anything like that. It got to be that point by definition. It made me decide to force myself to attempt to make sure every day from that point on is going to be.. more. More fun, meaningful, productive, memorable, … or anything. Just be and mean a little more than what my days are currently amounting to. I’m going to take subtle (and not so subtle) yet concrete steps to turn this around. I’m going to work on me and aspects of my life until I’m out of this rut. I am going to keep telling myself something like this until I really see some progress. As a starter, not like I really used it, I removed the yellow stickey with her number (which for some reason seems like so much more than a bit of paper) from my wallet. See? subtle, yet concrete.

It’s so fishing ironic when you really think about it. When things are just.. there, you fail to comprehend how much they mean to you. You don’t necessarily want them all the time, or spend hours and days thinking about having them. Once they’re gone, you suddenly begin to miss them. Miss them very much. You suddenly realize all this want and need that hadn’t surfaced at a point when it probably would have made a world of difference. Which leads me to wonder, is any of this real? Or is it just the tantrum throwing child in you. You’re just screaming and wailing and trying your best to portray how much the doll or whatever means to you, because you’re quite sure you aren’t getting it. Least you can do is make everyone else around feel a little guilty in denying you.

I think internally I’ve always pitied people wasting their lives over things they can’t have and points they cannot reach. (Not necessarily great things or great points, just ones that will not materialize for them.) At some point I’ve morphed to that person.

Ok, something needs to be done.

I got back my check.

Remember kids, the moral of the story is, no, not to check if you’ve pasted stamps before dropping mail into a mailbox. Now sshhh and listen. The moral of the story is that no good can come out of doing something a week before a deadline. Remember it well.

Unrelated, I was hanging out on this little hill outside my home, and I suddenly hear this person calling out a couple of names. I then realized she was calling out for her dogs that were running toward the brave one, me. One was average sized, but the other was rather large, and could have had its way with me if it wanted. And then it happened, I made a huge breakthrough with respect to my fear of creatures I can’t talk to. I didn’t scream like a 3 year old and run away, I stayed my ground while the things were sniffing me and slobbering over my leg. Sure, I was petrified, and I’m still a little shaky, but she assumed I was a dog person. That’s what counts, doesn’t it?

I don’t know what it is. I suddenly realized I’ll be leaving this home in a few months. I don’t want to. I think I’m scared because I’ve been through quite a few changes and I don’t seem particularly happy as a result. I don’t know.

I was planning to put something else down, but now all of it is a blur in my head. I don’t know what it was, and I don’t care. I’ve got goose bumps all over and all my hairs are standing straight up.

For the first time, I really listened to Urban Hymns. I’ve heard it many times before, but I hadn’t hit me. This is as close to the ultimate music album as it gets. There is an extreme level of emotional intensity that is maintained throughout the album I hadn’t experienced before. I just didn’t see how deep the lyrics went. I didn’t even know I particularly cared about the lyrics of songs.

It’s life, happiness, sadness, space, time,.. and everything else on a CD. I’m indescribably moved, peaceful, euphoric … so much. I am sure you’ll be affected too.. on a higher.. a sort of spiritual level if you actually listen to this album. Good god, I wonder what this means for The Masterplan. And I’m beginning to see the pattern, the songs I find truly glorious have beautiful orchestral backup.

Here’s a quick sampler of the kind of brilliance that is in store.

Happiness,
More or less
It’s just a change in me
Something in my liberty
Oh, my, my!
Happiness,
Coming and going
I watch you look at me
Watch my fever growing
I know, just where I am
But how many corners do I have to turn?
How many times do I have to learn?
All the love I have is in my mind!
Well, I’m a lucky man

Richard Ashcroft is a genius. Sigh (a peacefully happy one). I feel all feline now. Stretching, curling up, softly purring and of course, coughing up hair. Good god, I feel invincible. It’s just music? Maybe to you.

Maybe it’s time to make my ultimate mixed collection. No, not for you, you, you or you.

For me.

Of course, I noted on the Amazon page that people who bought this also bought (What’s the Story) Morning Glory. (Another glorious album by a most awesome band). Anyway, the point being I was furiously reading up on the history between these people. And guess what Noel had to say about “Cast no shadow.”

“Richard wasn’t very happy for a while so l wrote it for him and about three weeks later he quit his band (The Verve). It’s about songwriters in general who are desperately trying to say something. I’d like to be able to write really meaningful lyrics but I always end up talking about drugs or sex. But people like Richard and Paul Weller will look after me. This song is dedicated to the genius of Richard Ashcroft.”

The only time history’s fun is when it involves alt. brit. rock. I am heading off to bask in this glorious feeling. Night.

NP. The Verve – Urban Hymns
Yes, I got all teary on “Lucky Man” too.
And no, I have not been paid by the band to write this for them. Besides, the band doesn’t exist as a band anymore.

No prizes for guessing which little tree was ostracized by all other trees because he found flowers prettier than leaves.

And wasn’t afraid to show it.

For the first time ever in my life, I decided to do something waaay before the deadline. I have no idea what came over me. I saw this bill sitting on the table this morning, and fully realizing it wasn’t due till more than ten days later, I wrote out the check. I put it in its little pre-addressed envelope and dropped it off in the nearest post box.

Without stamps.

God damnit.

I spent all my day shopping, for other people. Bought a lot of little (and not so little) and cute (and not so cute) stuff. It felt awesome, for the most part. I wish I were a kid or had one. And there were somethings which I kept leaning over to pick up, but I had to step back when I realized I didn’t have anyone to give those sorts of things to anymore.

I don’t like tearing up this often.

(I wonder why a scarily informative program on intersexuals I saw last night keeps popping up in my head. Arggh.)

Bittersweet symphony is life.

Remind me the next time. Just because there’s a channel with a South Park marathon running all night doesn’t mean I have to watch it.

*Groggily stumbles away*

Update: Orkut annoys me with its predictive capabilities every time that I login – “You will be fortunate in everything.”

Yeah, riiight.

There are a bunch of books on people’s experiences with autistic children in my aunt’s home. I’ve been reading one by this mother of an autistic child who handles advanced calculus classes at M.I.T, but at the same time cannot tie his shoe laces or speak a sentence. It was called, hmm, “From a mother’s heart” or something like that. I got into it almost wanting to be deeply moved and end up bawling.

No such thing. I know this woman has been through a lot, but she didn’t seem very nice and made it more about her than I expected it to be. Not.. motherly enough. Speaking of which, there is another woman I have a problem with. The one who gave up her baby on 20/20 yesterday. I will detail my issues with that scheme of events some other time.

And unrelated, I’ve been going through recent pictures to pick (yet another) one for my orkut profile. Social networking things are rather eventless (at least for relatively asocial people like myself), and this is the only sort of thing I really do on them. Anyway, I had this policy against posting (easy to access, not heavily filtered) full facial photos here. You know, for weird privacy concerns. But I figured I’ve put them up in places like orkut anyway, how much more damage could I be doing?

Here’s one of them that didn’t make the cut for the dumbest reason. Anyway, I’ve got this soft focus thing down to a fishing science.

Yes, I think this was taken around the time I took this, too.

This is a blast from the relative past. I have this system where I pile up things I need said in various buffers, notepads in real life, compartments in my brain, and text buffers on the computer. Now they’re all overflowing with “externally unsaid stuff” and need to be purged, for sanity retention. There will hence be periodic random bursts like this. This was me screaming into a bag a while ago. I don’t necessarily feel any of this now, plus stuff’s changed. I just need to get it out of here as I see it every time I come to this file to jot something down, and it’s bothering me.

I thought I was pretty much through this last evening before I went to bed. I seemed peaceful enough, but I ended up tossing and turning instead when a bunch of loose ends kept popping up. I woke, often, with some odd thought relating to her tone, or something she’d said.

I thought I had decided I wouldn’t let it bother me. Damn it, I want to stop being affected. I want to be happy.

– Who cares how he would feel when/if told about the nature of our relationship? Is she ashamed of us? Of me?
   – Didn’t she ever need anything I tried to do?
– Why do men who come into her life now (or even earlier, come to think of it) get different treatment? Why was I told all the details in all their glory? Wouldn’t things be different if she hid them from me too? They aren’t told the details, so they can’t automatically assume my role, so will always be “different” in her eyes. Does this mean,
   – She didn’t ever want me at all, so was willing to use me as this sort of sacrificial lamb?
     – Is that why I feel so used? That I feel she knew all of this, and put me through it because I can take it?
   – She told me, and saw where it led to, so she’s avoiding it with them?
   – She isn’t and won’t be as comfortable and totally honest with other people, even if it is to avoid complications?
– Can you ever know too much about someone? How could you possibly know so much about someone being their friend becomes weird. Where is this “magic point” where it enters the “domain of love” when you just can’t be comfortable with a friend of the opposite (or same, if your preferences are different from mine) sex.
– Do I, what we’ve been through, mean so little to her that she can just forget it ever happened and go on to live happily ever after?
   – If yes, why can’t I begin to feel that way? Why am I so stuck and feeling all dumped?
   – Would she be so positive about things if he didn’t exist in the picture? Am I right in assuming this unified (60-40% split?) decision to wean off each other is easier on her because she’s been drawn to someone else for some time now?
– Who is she to keep doing this and affecting me like this anymore?
   – Don’t you give up that right after you dump someone? Why do I let her control so much, when she’s taken away so much?
– How “raw” can your connection be to someone, when you’ve not been entirely forthcoming about facts that form an important facet of your life?

I repeat, sanity retention.

And oh, the test, well if only life were comparably piece of cakey.

All together now, awwwww.

I’ve got this final exam test tomorrow. And since I’m this self proclaimed bastion of knowledge, (and because I’ve apparently got many more important things piled up) I treated it like I treat anything else of this sort, a minor inconvenience. And expectedly, I’ve goofed off until now. (Well, not now now, now as in after the Friends episode in about half an hour from now. So technically, I will goof off until then.) It doesn’t help that I’ve aced the class so far, and with all the leeway granted to you by the joys of “continuous evaluation”, you’re really not all that pressured into doing things for fear of, say, getting a bad grade.

Another problem here is it’s not particularly interesting. It starts of all fun and new, but gets quite boringly repetitive in a bit. And I wanted to read (yes, you can read math) for it like I’m reading a book (if I do read one I mean), but I just received this email saying I’ve got to go through some details in specific questions before taking the test.

Which means it’s going to be a long night.
And I’m cranky.