Maintenance

While doing some maintenance work on this blog - removing spam comments trying to sell me pills and mp3 converters - I realised that I like doing maintenance work.

I also realised that I should make a post about it because, ummm... well what the hell do I post about anyway... Something is better than nothing, atleast as far as blog posts go.

So, I like cleaning out stuff every once in a while. I like maintaining my music collection on my hard drive, even though a media library software does the job just fine. I like going into the kitchen and cleaning out all the shelves, shuffle all the crockery, and maybe buy new crockery to have more to shuffle around. I like making beds, but not right after I wake up, and not before I go to bed. I like putting books in order, but not in any apparent order.

I guess I like putting arrays in disarray.

Contrasts

Beautiful music in a depressing place.

Uplifting thoughts in dreary surroundings.

Great dreams and ambitions, while doing mundane, meaningless tasks.

I am become a study in contrasts.

Also, I am so tempted to mock my own attempts at keeping this blog alive, or to just say hello again to the few who actually read my blog, or to make this post another resurrective one.

Won't happen. I know that I would keep ignoring this blog, and doing stupid stuff while thinking of doing big stuff.

All the while, listening to beautiful music in depressing places.

Daze

I am dazed. I am thirsty. I have no will to get up and get water for myself. I have headphones on, but I am not listening to anything. For the past one hour. They are making me uncomfortable. I have taken them off now. It feels better. I think I'll go get water. Wait. I have to blog first. And rant about how I have 3 project reports to complete, how I have missed more than the allowed number of classes for this course, and how I have overslept and how I am just walking disconnected through my life. Dazed.

Circadian Chaos

Circadian. I wonder who coined this term. Oh damn... now I am tempted to look it up on the net. Wait...

Origin: 1955–60; from Latin circā about + di(és) day

Hmmm... Not a really old word, then. But sounds weird none the less. Like cicada, which I know is an insect. I know a lot of irrelevant stuff. Damn, I am now tempted to look this up as well! Hold on again...

Origin: 1350–1400; Middle English from Latin cicāda

Well... Cicada is an older word then. I know the comparison is like comparing apples to oranges, and as such doesn't have any substance to it. I recently read a report about how similar apples and oranges are, and that comparing apples to oranges isn't as dissonant as is thought to be. But then, language takes its own liberties...

Anyway, about circadian rhythms and the chaos thereof that has set itself in my life. I wonder how chaos can set into my life... I mean, its chaos after all! It isn't supposed to "set into" of all things!

Damn... Onto the subject finally... Circadian rhythm is the bodily sleep cycle. Mine is chaotic.

I guess you can understand why...

It's such a draw...

I draw and sketch a lot in class while the lectures are in session. It gives me something to do. I couldn't care less about the bloke in the middle with a chalk in his hand. However, my drawings can get a bit redundant, so I sometimes end up writing out my rants and raves.

Rummaging through my class notebook... I came across this piece which I had written in a lecture I can only pretend to find interesting...

Drawing in class isn't fun anymore. There isn't much left to draw in the set of things I can draw. Everyday it's just a rehash of swords, eyes and cars. Throw in some logos and an odd face, and you have my complete portfolio. That, and the weird character I've cooked up for a comic strip who lives solely in my notebooks. He doesn't look good either.

I never seem to get the angles and lines correct. Not in my drawings. Not in my life.

Where should I draw the line now?

The grass was greener...

Beyond the horizon of the place we lived when we were young
In a world of magnets and miracles
Our thoughts strayed constantly and without boundary
The ringing of the division bell had begun
Along the long road and on down the causeway
Do they still meet there by the cut
There was a ragged band that followed in our footsteps
Running before time took our dreams away
Leaving the myriad small creatures trying to tie us to the ground
To a life consumed by slow decay

The grass was greener
The light was brighter
With friends surrounded
The nights of wonder

Looking beyond the embers of bridges glowing behind us
To a glimpse of how green it was on the other side
Steps taken forwards but sleepwalking back again
Dragged by the force of some inner tide
At a higher altitude with flag unfurled
We reached the dizzy heights of that dreamed of world

Encumbered forever by desire and ambition
There's a hunger still unsatisfied
Our weary eyes still stray to the horizon
Though down this road we've been so many times

The grass was greener
The light was brighter
The taste was sweeter
The nights of wonder
With friends surrounded
The dawn mist glowing
The water flowing
The endless river

Forever and ever

- High Hopes by Pink Floyd

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I miss you IIT Bombay :(

Cash and Cashiers

I was just reading some random anecdote on the net, and a cashier says - "I could lose my job if I did that."

It hit me again. Like so many times before, I started wondering about the charm a common job holds. A job which just about manages to pay the bills, a job that extracts so much sincerity out of a person that makes him or her say something like that, a job that somehow manages to bring a smile on my face if I imagine myself doing that.

Thinking about the jobs which I probably will end up doing... I am scared. The responsibility, the magnitude of decision-making involved, the fact that so many people look would look up to me, and at the same time look down upon me...

Hell, tell me how many times have you looked down upon a McDonald's cashier? And how many times have you despised an investment banker or a consultant for what they are...

I guess true acceptance in the hearts of lots of people comes at a stiff price.

Or maybe not... But then I think about the career options open in front of me... If I leave aside the cashier/engine driver/bartender jobs for practicality's sake, my favourite job would involve a marketing lifestyle with consulting perks and an investment banking paycheck.

That, and the sincerity and the societal acceptance level of a cashier.

I am flaky.

I have two endterm exams tomorrow, as well as a class which is evaluative and has a rather lengthy case to read. However, I don't know why, but here I am - sitting on my desk, listening to random music, surfing random sites and finally ending up blogging.

I hope that I don't diss this post midway. Now that I've established that, I think I'll post it no matter what.

Life's been rather peaceful lately, but there is no enthusiasm or motivation to work whatsoever. The only thing which induces the slightest drive is this b-school summit, of whose organizing team I am a part of.

Is that correct English? Gahh.. Who cares...

There goes! A near perfect example of how I've been lately. Incidentally, I just realised that I care about the fact that I don't care, and I would certainly like to do something about it. About that, I don't care enough!

Meh.

No Idea

It is nigh 4 in the morning, and I have no clue why I am up at this time. Spinning around in the interminable web, I sometimes feel like life is caught in the invisible strands and tangible wires of technology all around us.

In the end, it boils down to what use are we putting technology to. Personally, am I putting it to use anyway?

Blogging, or the mere pursuit of it, is not so much a use of technology, but being trapped by it.

Stop Go Stop

Cold dark Night. Dank. Smelly.
Rains. Stop go stop. Go. Stop.
Glowing clouds. Blown away by Wind.
Hissing whooshing frenzied Wind.
Slaked Earth. Hissing. Like slaked lime. Mime.
Misty window clears. Snow to ice. Naughty to nice.
City lights. Blinking. Moving.
Fifty five fireflies.
Fifty five stars in Sky.
Fifty five thoughts.
Fifty five.
Alive.