Pry-vacy

I think the first door latch was invented to keep away prying eyes during a private moment of sadness.

Papyrus

I feel empty inside. Maybe it's because I watched 'Dexter' too much. Maybe it's because I've always been like that. Lately, I struggle to let my mind land on a memory. Not because I have early signs of dementia or something. I can remember certain things to the point of what clothes others around me were wearing. And when I say others, I don't mean the people close to me. I can probably remember what my friend's friend was wearing some day. I can remember details of several memories. But it's hard to remember what I felt like when that happened to me. I can't remember if I felt sad or happy or angry or excited. I feel blank, like a page that had writing on it but the writing has been erased and all that is left behind is this crumple that looks empty but doesn't feel that way, a page with the impressions left behind by the pressure the writer applied on his/her pen/pencil and forever tarnished it. You erase the ink, the fading graphite but you know that it will never be new again. Just an ugly looking page, a wannabe page hoping it'd be someone's second choice for a scribbled phone number or a grocery list. They will try to smoothen it out, lovingly spread it on the table and run their palms over it to coax it to un-wrinkle itself. When they discover that it won't work, they roll it up, pull at the edges and hope to find it in better looking shape. And finally, when all else fails, they settle for the slightly crumpled piece of processed bamboo and pour their heart out on it.

P.S - I want me to be less lame.

Of half sentences and other...

Sometimes I am obvious to the point of being painful. And sometimes I can use all the words I know and yet fall short of expressing something I feel. Sometimes I feel like I'm too lazy to feel certain emotions and I'd rather circumvent them than actually live with/through them. Sometimes, I blurt out unnecessary things. Sometimes I hide necessary things. Sometimes I'm convinced that some of my dreams were childhood memories. Sometimes I cry watching movies like 'We are family'. Sometimes I don't want to talk to anyone else other than my cat and a bag of chips. Sometimes I wish I could explain what makes me this way and not sound lame/hopeful for a weird Freudian explanation. Sometimes I'm just me. And sometimes, I hope I'm funny.

P.S - Totally proud about the rhyme in the last sentence. Hi-five-ing a million angels :D

Leaving, left and gone.

What could break your heart more intensely? When you know that a storm is approaching, that it is going to be a bad one and you better prepare for it or when you are looking up at the clouds and they conspire to suddenly separate, to expose the harsh sunlight to your unsuspecting eyes? Does the anticipation of pain make it more bearable? It is like when the surgeon comes out of the operating room and tells you that you shouldn't be hopeful. You prepare yourself, there might be a splinter that would start to break your heart, vein by vein, artery by artery, until all that is left is a mess of blood and oxygen. Would it be less painful if you never knew that there would be a splinter someday?

I wouldn't have time

To prepare for goodbyes

The thought is too painful

To get over with laments and sighs,

Come tomorrow,

When I wait for a smile,

Knock on my door,

And tell me it is futile,

Tell me you intended to let me know

As I cry over the abrupt adieu,

Tell me it was a last moment call,

Ask me to think about it from your point of view,

Maybe I'll hate you for it,

I'll always believe that you lied,

Maybe I wouldn't know what to say,

Maybe I'd be happy to be deprived,

Of awkward pauses and clumsy farewells,

Declaration of promises neither will keep,

Happy to be woken up sharply,

From a nightmare ridden sleep...

P.S - I can't begin to comprehend how bad that is but somehow had to write something. This made me feel good. I really wanted to rhyme.

Lovers, they try...

...try to whip the stars into compliance. I am thinking about Clive Owen's character's line in 'Closer' (which I liked for some reason. Also made me fall in love with Natalie Portman). He says something about how depressives don't want to be happy. Because then they'd have to start living their lives. Which can be quite depressing.

I wonder if what we perceive as happiness is unique. Happy people almost seem smug to me. They go around thinking that no one could possibly feel as happy as they do. They believe they have a right to comfort others who aren't happy, with empty words. Everything will be fine, trust me. They have the credentials to say so because they are uniquely happy. They think they're the only ones who look at little kids smiling and smile to themselves. They think they're the only ones to understand how beautiful life really is. More importantly, they laugh at their former selves who thought there was a subtlety to melancholy and a charm to sadness.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not considering being content here. Nor am I considering being satisfied. Because you can be happy even if you are thinking about how you'd never be satisfied with anything other than critical appreciation for your hypothetical debut novel. You can be happy even when you aren't satisfied with the way things are going, there's always room for improvement isn't there? You can be happy to a point of being discontent with trivial details. You can be happy with mediocre words, nowhere close to accurately describing your present state. This feeling of happiness is unique. Only because it is so simple.

P.S- Watched 'A bout de souffle' ('Breathless' in English) directed by Jean-Luc Godard. I couldn't really understand what the big deal was. Some very beautiful lines in the movie though. An instance: " It's sad to fall asleep. It separates people. Even when you're sleeping together, you're all alone. " by Patricia Franchini (portrayed by Jean Seberg. She is exquisitely charming.)

P.P.S- I am very happy right now :)

Lost Mojo

When I'm too bored(read open to the realization that I can't really write well), I read my previous blog posts and try to remember what I was thinking as I wrote them. I did the same, unsurprisingly, today and realized how very lame I have been. It all comes to a point where every week, my blog has one draft and no post. I'm tired of half written truisms pointlessly butchered and covered in macabre gloss and shine, tired of meandering sentences with absolutely nothing new to express and tired of words that lead nowhere and make me forget the whole...I forget what I really wanted to say.Anyhoo, I've lost count of the number of days it has been since I last read a book or last watched a movie. It feels like I have no patience to read or watch anything anymore(well except 'Arrested Development'. It's a shame they ended the series) I have been too busy trying to and mostly failing to care about something I really wouldn't dream caring about. You know that concept of user transparency in Distributed Systems? You don't?! *Horror* You are that user! Anyway, I do and I wish I were the user who was the one not bothered about implementation level details, hidden from the working and functioning of a Distributed System. But no, I have to worry about random trivia that I could have lived without. By the way, did you know that the name 'Phoebe' of the character Phoebe Buffay in Friends might have been inspired by Holden Caulfield's sister, Phoebe, in Catcher in the Rye?

P.S- This was cathartic to a point that it made me happy. Well, almost as happy as seeing that green statement on the console that says 'Build successful'.

"Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torment of man."

-Friedrich Nietzsche