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'A start' precedes this, so if you're gonna read this, you wanna read that before you read this because it's not going to make a whole lot of sense otherwise.

So I haven't been able to read. I haven't felt like writing. I have found other ways of getting rid of strong negative feelings, like going for a sprint and doing it 2-3 times till I start panting like a dog. It's much better than writing, trust me. Tires you so much that you can't think of anything else. Other examples include going for a drive on NH8. Smoking, of course (somehow doesn't work when I'm alone, I need to be with people, and those people need to be smoking too)

There's been a break so I'm having trouble returning to my original train of thought. I was talking about Spiderman and women and something of that nature. Another thing is that since about 1-2 years, I've started seeing myself as a man and not as a boy. Just mentioning.

So some weird things have been happening lately. I'm very excited about the transition from college life to work life because I think work is gonna be exciting. More details on that later. I'm a little worried about the last semester in IIT but I'll worry myself with that later, when I absolutely have to.

I think I lost my train of thought from when I was talking about Spiderman. Anyway, more later.

A start

Ok, last time I attempted to write something, I ended up writing a paragraph and then deleting it all. So this time I will attempt to write something not caring about what it looks like and if the grammar is correct. This may be a short post as at some point of time I will feel like deleting it and going back to what I was doing before this. At that point, I will click on 'Publish Post' and that will be it. If I can see it getting worthless and feel that I am going to delete this in some time but I'll just keep on writing now, I'll again click on 'Publish post' and continue on a new one. So anyway, life feels like a bitch right now. I've been thinking about a lot of things. Bad things first. Actually I do not want to get into that because it's kind of personal, but I can talk about things generally. If I feel that what I've written is too personal and shouldn't be read by other people, then I may not click on 'Publish post' and you may never see this. I was going to write - 'but since you are, I'm guessing I'm going to sidestep that obstacle' - but the truth is that I honestly do not know how personal this is going to be, and that might make me review this whole thing and not post it at all. Anyway, lets forget that for a moment and let me carry on with my writing. The first bad thing is that I've been suffering from Writers block and Readers block (even if there's no such thing you know what I'm saying, don't crib about correctness, I never wanted to be correct in this post). So I haven't been able to read anything in a long long time. I took a course on Modern Fiction last semester and got an F in that. My total was 37.5 out of 100 and passing was 40 (passing is usually 30) and she failed me because her daddy didn't love her enough. But I digress. What I wanted to say was that I partly read 'One hundred years of solitude' in that course and liked it. I read about 60-70% of it but didn't complete it. I couldn't read any of the other books [each of us was supposed to read a total of 6 books! Full length novels - none of them half as simple as Five point someone or one-tenth as fun as Harry Potter {Yes, I'm a Harry Potter fan. I don't care much for literature. Although it was a bit kiddish and the whole idea of romantic love in the book is this childish idealistic romantic notion of love which is kind of sickening. What the fuck was that chapter '19 years later' doing in the end? Maybe this generation doesn't need to grow up on happy endings. Its sickening because I grew up with it, I expect it as much as I don't want to and I don't get it. Look around you. It's every where. Take Spiderman for example. Why does he see Mary Jane as some kind of an angel even though she's been nothing but a bitch to him. Knowing that he has the hots for her and snogging all these other guys in front of him. First that guy from the bus in the first movie. Then his friend Harry. Then that Air Force guy in the second movie. All she's been is a whore. He shouldn't take that kind of crap from her. He should go around the city literally picking up hot women from the streets, taking them to the top of some building where he's arranged a bed somehow, and they'll be on their backs begging for it. If that doesn't happen, he can always rescue women from some situation (apparently every day, somebody is getting robbed or raped or mugged in New York and every 3 seconds you can hear an ambulance go by. So much so for the financial capital of the richest nation in the world). It's funny that I digressed so much that I started writing something which I actually wanted to write}]

I'm gonna post this now and start afresh.

Webpage counter

I know it says 12000 something but there haven't been that many visits to my blog and I didn't set it to that much. When I put this on, I started it from 0 and some time later it fucked up. I think it should read something between 1000 and 2000.

Catharsis

It's always easier when you have no time to relax, and you desperately crave that time, which you can spend on yourself. You have all these things in your mind that you always wanted to do and all you need is free time, so that you can relax. It's so much more tougher when all you have is free time and nothing to do, no purpose in life, and your catharsis will come from getting off your ass, finding a purpose in life and doing something. Falling from working a lot to doing nothing is easy, it follows the natural order of things: like a ball rolling down a slope. Going from doing nothing to starting to work is against the natural order of things, in that it involves a decrease in your entropy. Sadly, the state of maximum entropy is not the state of maximum happiness for humans, and sooner or later we have to go and lose some of it.

From her to him

Leave me now, a solemn plea
Pray to thee – let me be free.

That night was fun – just you and me
And stars galore to see.
But now I need some lonesome time,
don’t ask me reason or rhyme.
I came, I went
It’s what I do;
I moved on
And you should, too.
A clear night and we made out,
things were what they were.
I didn’t have a single doubt
And now it’s all a blur.
That being said, I hope it’s clear
All was none but fun
And hope you have a happy life
Coz you ‘n me are done.

The importance of you

People come, people go. You realize their importance only when they're gone. Nobody is a perfect companion. No matter how well you bond with your friend or wife or brother, you know that in some corner of their personality, there is something massively wrong. You realize what's wrong with them only when they're around.

Think for a minute. Take this moment to realize the importance of yourself. This life is about you, and no one else. People will not be around when you need them. Your mind has to learn to live with itself, because life will not be generous enough to give you the luxury of good company every time.

A bad way to spend your weekend is to sit in front of your laptop, repeatedly checking your gmail account to see if there are any new mails and passing time by playing facebook games or mario forever. Is this facebook really a disease? Back in school, I used to think that smoking was bad and that there was no reason why anyone would start smoking except for peer pressure and that it looked cool to some people. It didn't look cool to my circle of friends back then and I used to think that since I never really liked anyone who smoked, therefore I would never want to be like them. That changed after coming to college. I saw people no different from me: likable and rational, who used to smoke and I started to think that it wouldn't be so bad. Is it going to be the same with facebook? Am I going to start playing farmville? Have things gone so bad that I cannot find other creative and interesting ways to beat boredome and angst?

What if...

What if there was no prose and everything had to be expressed in verse?

What if you somehow discovered you just have five more hours to live?

What if you're 60 and you never found love since your college sweetheart broke your heart?

What if you realize that no one would cry if you died?

What if you wake up in an asylum and realize that your supposed life was just a dream and you had just been asleep 5 minutes?

What if...

I believe in happiness. I believe that it is a state which can be achieved and you do not need anything special to achieve it. Existential angst is a trap. It is a trap in which you can convince yourself that the things which can make you happy (like a beautiful girlfriend, good friends, money and keeping yourself busy with something you like) are in fact, of no purpose at all. But you feel this angst only if you are devoid of one of these simple things. If you have these things, then you do not need to think about the purpose of your existence. An empty mind is a devil’s workshop, they say. It is, in fact a way to see the truth. When your mind is empty you can see through the emptiness of this life. But you like being happy, don’t you? Why not make that the purpose of your lives and stop cribbing? Why not stop questioning why something pleases you and instead get that something and actually please yourself?

Being a writer

Do you think that people who major in literature go on to become great writers? I know a lot of them don't. A lot of them who have the potential of becoming great writers. They know too much about literature. They're made to read about the 1000 years of literary geniuses that the world has produced. And inevitably, they'll compare themselves to these great writers. I mean that's just plain unfair. They're comparing themselves to the greatest writers and that too over a huge period of time. A person like me reads a book like, say The Cather in the Rye and it strikes me as something which even I could've written. When a literature student reads that, he knows the history. He knows how revolutionary the book was and how fresh it was for its time. All the time when they write something, they're comparing themselves to the Dostoevskys and Eliots of the world. Sometimes in life, you just have to start writing. All that you have to produce is something that you can like. It doesn't have to be perfect, it never will be. Know that and the pen will start moving. If you can write something that you are very pleased with, chances are you will find people in the world who will like it. It may not be a literary masterpiece. You can't know for sure how anything you write will be received by certain people who have degrees from fancy colleges and call themselves to be the judges of what is good writing and what is not. So I suggest you stop worrying about that.

P.S. - Written in my Literature class today