Saturday, November 26, 2005

Maybe this is crap.

There comes a stage in life when you finally realise that the mistakes you are committing over and over again become too blaring to ignore. The realisation sees a literal and symbolic transformation embarked upon by several ink-blot tests that would among themselves elicit and defeat attempts at conclusive explanations of the mistakes.
It can be just about anything. It can be screwing up an interview. It can be flunking an exam. It can be yet another bad date. It can be crashing your bike into the bumper of a car. Anything.

There are several things in your mind that are so deeply ingrained that going back and doing it differently requires mental courage and the ability to think laterally. For example, you can support a local clean air initiative and see to it your garden is fresh and green and yet still own two cars, drive 100 miles a day and live in houses that leak energy like sieves.
You focus on solving problems in a book so intently that you fail in switching to creating what matters the most.
You picture yourself in a loving, mutually respectful relationship with someone so pretty that coversations with unpretty people seem famliarly unfulfilling.
You cannot, for the life of you be at the right place at the right time.

I am not aspiring to have been at Mozart's Vienna, the Italian Renaissance or even the beneath the magnolia on a typical twilight. I just want to shed my inhibitions and go do something on stage. Anything.
For how surprising it is, I've hardly ever been on stage.
The biggest crowd I've performed in front of would be back in sixth grade when I won a Whats-the-good-word contest. The whole of sixth grade turned up, teachers et al. My partner kept thrusting a hanky into my sweaty palms every now and then!
The medals and certificates won at sport meets, essay, word-building, drawing or poetry contests kept Mom and Dad from complaining.
This apart, no stage acts for me. No debates, no elocutions, no comperes, nothing. Throughout school I expertly shadowed myself from being involuntarily selected for skits, dramas, dance programs and the like too. It is positively staggering that the stage-fear self-actualisation is affecting me only now.
My mistake was enjoying the view from the audience seat way too much. Resigning to an idea that it is a life off the spotlight that I can glimpse in for my most perfect moments. I realise I'm wrong.

I blew a chance one time, to get into the school cricket team. A month later, the team flew to Singapore to play in a tournament. I've never been on an aeroplane as yet.
The only fun in this is seeing rocket science fly past me periodically. (Yes, puns galore!). Sigh!
The mistake here is procrastination. An overdose of it. It still visits me very often.

There it is: I'm tongue-tied on stage, I was twisted to realise it so late. I feel like an earth-bound misfit. And I simply have to learn to fly!

Bless Pink Floyd!

P.S: The sequel to this post should hopefully see a less hurried ending. I'm way too caught up with work for my liking.

Tuesday, November 15, 2005


So, I hopped into the Computer Networks lab at college today. It took me a whole half an hour to realise how full of funky dung the thing is. Hubs, hosts, switches and point-to-point links coalescing to work up some maddeningly random facts. There are several types of simulators that demonstrate how these work on a computer screen. Among the different types of simulators are NCTUns, REAL, INSANE etc..
In the smartest move I've ever witnessed anybody making, our lab in-charge preferred a combination of REAL and INSANE over an innocent and academic NCTUns.
Its universal...well atleast its RNSITal, Networks lab is real insane!

Ok, my sense of humour is taking a downward spiral towards oblivion!

Monday, November 14, 2005

Run. Just run like hell.
Thats one main reason why I love playing football. I love the unceasing breeze in my hair as I scram down the wings. I love what crazed running does to me. I love it when a counter-attack ends in a goal and leaves me near out of breath, gasping. I love it when the only sound I hear at this time is me panting and puffing, on my knees and wearing a contented smile. I love the sweat trickling from all over my face down to my naked chest at the end of the game. I love it all!

So we all ran, attacked, defended and ran some more to finally win a trophy for college playing football. Yes, we finished runners-up at the UVCE sports fest, losing to BMSCE in the finals. We beat a couple of decent teams before stunning the home team 4-1 in a particularly brilliant semi-final game.
Who knows...we might've kicked some BuMS if we weren't scheduled to play the final within an hour of making through to it. You're damn right I'm feeling pompous!
The only issue I had with the big, shiny runners-up trophy were the bold words inscribed on it: FOOTBALL RUNNER.
But no sweat, its all cool. Ooh except, sweat! Lots of it.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

My Blog, my Meme!

Ten Firsts:

First Best Friend: Guru, a neighbour.
First Screen Name: Thorn_within (ah, good ole IRC!)
First Vehicle: BSA Champ (I ride a Yam now...and I'm too proud not to tell people that often)
First Crush: That villainess in popular TV show Chandrakantha. Ooh boy, she brought out the throbs of the heart and whatnot! In not-so-reel life, its probably this cute lil' girl next door that I played 'doctor' with..;)
First Movie: Jockey starring Ambarish. I was about 4 yrs old.
First Kiss: is not as good a song as The Last Kiss.
First Book: A Famous Five book when I was 8. Dad decided I had enough of Chandamama and Champak after I named my cricket bat Batty.
First Love: I was pretty head over heels for this girl back in high school. I only spoke to her once...and that was at the valedictory party. It wasn't love though. Its about as close as I've gotten to it.
First Rock Tape: Ten by Pearl Jam. I lost it a week later.
First Fist Fight: When I was 11. The guy stole my Tinkle fucken Digest.

Nine Lasts:
Last Alcoholic Beverage: A mug of Happy hours draught beer.
Last Bike Ride: Rode back home from college.
Last Movie: Layer Cake. Classy and Brit!
Last Expletive used: "fugginell!"
Last Life Concept to confound me: Eco-Cemeteries or Natural Reserve Burial Grounds. No, I just don't get it!
Last Book I couldn't get past the preface of: Client Server Computing, Patrick Smith.
Last time I cried: Ok this might be weird...but I cried when I watched Dil Chahta Hai again a week ago.
Last TV character that made me laugh: Drew Carey.
Last Birthday Party: My niece Anju's....the sweet lil' thing turned 3 day before!

Eight Have You Evers:
Dated one of your best friends: Yeah.
Been arrested: Not yet I 'avent!
Skinny Dipped: uh huh. At a beach in Malpe!
Been on TV: No. I'm willing to kill for it!
Written a poem: I have! Needless to mention, it was called Rain.
Been out of the country: Nope. Shite, my life's not as remotely exciting as I want it to be.
Fantasized about a cartoon character: I've always found Wilma Flintstone hot. Sexy voice too!
Had sex: No. It helps me appreciate the finer things in life. The blue sky, the Rastafarian movement....faaargh get me laid!!

Seven Things I Can Do:
Five step-overs and two 360-degree turns before feeling dizzy.
Ideate answers to questions on Media Computing in the form of Megadeth song lyrics and make my lecturer buy them.
Eat a HELL of a lot of Gobi Manchurian provided I have sufficient beer to wash it down with.
Repel every second cute girl I meet by mindlessly ranting about Afrocentrism and suchlike shite.
Read the Hitchhiker's Guide on a monthly basis. I'm yet to run out of the muse for it!
Do idiotic memes on my blog.

Six Celebrity Crushes:
Jennifer Aniston
Shilpa Shetty
Smriti Rao (she's a celeb to me alright!)
Eva Longoria
Nandana Sen

Five Greatest Fears:
Unrequited love
Best friends backstabbing
Complete loss of memory
Mystic disappearance of coffee beans

Four People I can tell almost anything to:

Three Sacrifices I'd make:
Skip a test at college to watch Tendulkar bat.
Lose sleep to stay up late for a Man U game.
Almost anything to keep Mom and Dad happy.

Two Things I'd want to do before I die:
Fall in love and never out of it.
Get a heater, some serious smelling salts and have a dialogue with Jim Morrison.

One thing I hope for myself:
I hope I could be in a war. I hope I can hold my best friend's head in my lap, watching him gasp his last breath looking to me for help.
Its a lot more salutary than throwing a Shaskespearean "once more unto the breach, dear friends" at someone who asks me about war, without having the faintest idea of what I'm talking.
I hope I won't be the kind to give someone a syallabus of my personal favourites when he asks me about women. I hope I can wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy.

In essence, I just hope I don't cop out behind "I didn't ask for this."
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