Monthly Archives: March 2009

I don’t know what to title this….

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There are qualities in us which we are proud of, which we think are good, and are sure is the right one to possess. What if someday you begin to loathe yourself for the same thing?. Well it does not happen on a single day I agree, over time you see things around and feel how stupid you were before, or how wrong you were.

I am not liking the fact that people see me asexual, I mean I was at one time ,really happy to see people consider me a good friend, a good person to talk to, and share with, and just in any other guy who wants what men want. Well somewhere I miss that flavor in human relationships, or a possibility of a non  platonic relationship. I am so comfortable being platonic, I tend to settle for the same, and never move beyond. Worst part is that I feel even the other person feels the same way about me, platonic.

When you see yourself as of some kind, over years you tend to believe others too see you in the same way.

Strong and scary

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Cross posted at pure pusrsuits.

“Work pressures are at all time high with the recession affecting each one of us, does feminism help the escapist men?, who really do not mind to take some help from their spouses. If a woman wants to be the hero, fight world hard, make money, feed the family, and be happy at the end of the day that by doing so they have been better then their male counterparts, isn’t it the best thing that a man would ever want?. In a way he has more freedom and independence to pursue what he wants to do, without having to worry about feeding his family, and taking care of his wife.”

Read the rest of the post here “Strong and Scary

Sporty strokes

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I stood there in my balcony, looking at the blue sky, welcoming the day after a night of heavy rainfall. There is something about a cloudless sky, its shiny and sparky, like a cleanly wiped slate, but it seems to appear like its missing something, as though its lonely, it wants to be occupied, be accompanied by anything, be it a cloud, an airplane, or like many days, a stray cloud.

I looked at the patterns, these clouds made on the blue sky. They are mesmerizing, and intriguing. The things we see in those patterns, the faces that come up, the thoughts they inspire in you, and the flavor they add to the bland cup of coffee in your hand, just fascinating.

I tend to be believe, there has to be a brush which stroked them this way, I am sure, there are people out there who stroke these patterns, if not many atleast a few, who must have enjoyed every bit of their art, because it shows. It is like that obvious difference in the taste, which you cannot point to, when you eat a meal cooked by a happy chef, and then one by a person who wanted it, to taste right and do his job. Looking at these patterns makes me believe; they never make them, but actually create them. You cannot prepare people to create, you can always train people to make things, but never to create. I believe people who paint these patterns, are the ones who create them, every single day, and just don’t make them. The art of giving us, the audience, the joy, isn’t a sport for them to play, compete and succeed rather it’s their love for creation, and for things they do.

The human mind is so much similar to the blue sky, the shiny sparky slate, right after a dreadful relationship, a horrible friendship, a stressful assignment, or for that matter a plain horrible day. But when we wake up from it, and tend to look at the beautiful patterns, left in us, by those great men, who find their joy in leaving us with these treasures, memories, emotions and feelings, it makes me wonder, would these patterns ever be the what they are to us today, if people who stroked them as a sport. As a skill which is governed by rules, something they have been taught, they have practiced and they want to succeed in.

I have always wanted my emotions to be passionate, be it happiness, rage, sadness, excitement or anything for that matter. Moderate isn’t good enough for me, and I want to see the passion in people. If you hate me, hate me fully, do not just frown behind my back, or sabotage me. Just kill me, shoot me down is what I would say. I would imagine, my relationships to be one such affair too, full of burning passion, a high by which I can remember them, a tag for the moments of intimacy shared.

I wonder, if relations and emotions become a sport, where people play fairly, adhering to the proper rules, preparing themselves for the good and bad that comes out of it, anticipating the moves of the other person, and coming up with counter tackles. would those twinkles still twinkle?

The supreme power who makes us do, things we do, or lets just refer to pure randomness which governs our actions in life, and assume the randomness personified, is sitting up there smiling at the moves which we make, thinking its our free will. The joy he derives in messing around with us, giving us these moments of happiness and grief, a mixture of emotions, which turn out to be a pure bliss, both for him, and us, in retrospect. Would these moments be bliss, if he played us in a sport?, if he stuck to his rules, and took the most rational decision in order to win, every creation he makes. Would these moments be bliss.?

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This is a proof for the biggest defeat for a poet, when he needs to write prose to explain his poem. This thought had been in my mind from the day I posted the poem here. I just thought may be you guys would like to read what I really meant the poem to be.

Highs and a low

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For all those of you who have been asking what happened to the girl from the gym, I have an update.

Sorry I lost count of the number of days. All I can say is, this happened today.

Last week was kind of bad weather wise; it had been raining almost all week, and then because of the daylight savings, and us going one hour ahead, I kind of lost track of time, and ended up watching TV a little more, so had been late to gym all week. I did not spot her in the gym, and I thought she continued her normal slot.

Today I was back a little early from work, and was kind of mentally not feeling good, wanted to go do some running, so ended up in gym cutting short an episode of scrubs on TV. As I entered my leasing office I could see her in the gym, already running. I was a bit happy to see her, and with the prospect of a probable addition to my story.

I entered the gym, and to my surprise I saw an elaborate waving with a big smile and a loud hi from her. For a second, I wanted to really look at my back to see if anyone was behind me, it turns out she did wave at me.

I took my usual position on the thread mill, and started to run, and she too was doing the same. Suddenly after two laps she slowed down.

I don’t know why, and from where I got the courage.

Me: I haven’t seen you all of last week at the gym, were you coming in early?

Her: Nah, it was cold, I prefer warmer. I did not feel like coming to gym when it rains.

Me: I too have been coming late to the gym, not at my usual time.

Pause of like 2 minutes

Me: do you study?, I mean are you a student?

Her: not anymore, am a substitute now at a school

Her: How old are you

Me *thinking*: wow that was fast., and then blurt out 28..,, well almost 28.

She: oh !, you don’t look that old at all.

Me: how old are you..

[Can you believe a guy who took like 40 days to say hi, asking her age]

She: 25..

Me *obligated*: oh you don’t look 25 either.

Then 10 mnts followed talking about her major in college, my major, her work, my work, Mexico, India, her family, mine, her siblings, and the fact that I have none. Of course no conversation with me can go without mention of the food, so we talked about Mexican food, Indian food, music, and a lot more.

Just when I thought it was too much of talking for the day.

She: So you have a family here,

Me: No, I am not married, and my parents are back in India, and you? Do you have a room mate? Or you live alone?..

She: not alone..I live with my BOY FRIEND. he does not work out, he never comes here to the gym with me

Pheww what a way to end a 2 mile run.

Anyways, it turns out we did speak for next 20 minutes that we were in the gym, and as it was totally empty just the two of us, she did put her ipod on the public music dock, and we both talked about Shakira and also Italian opera. I had no clue what I was talking about when it came to opera, but then it was fun.

BTW on her insistence, I taught her to how to pronounce my name, and yeah her name is D…….La..

Seven

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Milk Duds

Toblerone

Hagen daes

Butter finger

Pizza twice in 7 weeks

Flavored Yogurt

Chocolate milk

All kinds of juice

Cheese crackers

Oil, almost nill

Eating out, reduced to 1/6th

30 mnts of threadmill

Occasional weights

Lots of mental stress

Coffee reduced by half

Days of sore knee and painful shins

1 inch

7 weeks

7 pounds

I see, I ask

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I have always considered myself to be shy and nerdy. I have heard people nickname me bookworm back in highschool, and I tend to believe people percieve me to be shrewd and calculative.

After reading a post which was no way related to me here, few questions popped into my mind.

When I see myself to be shy, did I ever appear to be reclusive?

When I see myself to be nerdy and geeky, did I ever appear to be intriguing to anyone?

I guess, some questions just remain as they should,”questions”.

Its Time

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“Just 10 minutes, nothing is lost”. If I were to be dramatic, I could have used something like, One could be born, One could die, One could make a cup of coffee, One can make a life changing decision, One can perform a deed which can be a life long regret. If I were to be a little wild, could take the drastic step of not waiting and just getting on with what I want to do.

Why do some people not care about time?, more importantly, value other people’s time. You can be just 3 minutes late, its still late, and you really wasted the person’s time. I can understand circumstances might sometimes make us not maintain our time, but sorry I cannot believe it can happen for every single day, for 6 weeks. What I do not understand is that how people can be so careless.

I had a long chat about this topic with a good friend over the weekend, and few of the points that came out were so logical. First and the fore most point, is that people should be conscious of time, I do know that as kids, many of our elder generations never had a watch, so they do not have the habit of timing their work, more importantly they hardly have the habit of periodically checking the time and how they are doing with respect to it. Now given a deadline, it is not at all difficult to plan backwards and breakdown smaller timelines for things we need to do before the big deadline. Isn’t that simple?, I mean if I have to leave to work at 8:30 am, I have to finish everything before 8, I should be done with my breakfast by 8:15, and should be able to washup, wear my shoes, lockup and be out by 8:25.

Why do I plan that way?, because I care about time, most importantly my time. I can leave at 8:33, but I prefer to start 8:28 rather than 8:33, but some people never understand. When people come with questions like, what happens if you are late, its not like someone is going to penalize you, or anything. That’s exactly where the attitude differs, its not for someone else we need to be on time, but for ourselves. When you put someone else into the equation, it makes even more sense to be sure to respect their time, when they have taken so much of trouble to be on time, shouldn’t you take double the efforts not to keep them waiting?.

One of the worst excuses I ever heard when people come in late, is “you know right IST”, [for people who do not know, IST is Indian standard time, which people use it to say that Indians are always late]. when I see a person saying this with a smiley face, I bet if someone were to check my blood pressure, it would have reached the roof. How can you, not only be insensitive towards time, but also be happy about it, without a hint of regret?, how can you set such a bad name for your country, and more importantly expect the other one to excuse you just because other person is an Indian, and supposedly has to always adjust to the so called “IST”. People, please do not generalize, I have seen so many Indians who are very particular about time, and by saying IST, you are actually making us feel not so proud to be an Indian. I once over heard a colleague of mine explaining his concept of “IST” to an American, is it really hard for people to understand that its not a good thing to be late, and definitely not a good thing to explain how normal it is to be late, and then say its Indian virtue?.

People close to me know, how impatient I get when it comes to time, and I am fortunate to have had people who value my time, as well as theirs around me, rather I avoid dealing with people who do not consider the importance.

Unfortunately I have been stuck with a person for last six weeks, who hasn’t kept time, even once, and is not even apologetic about it. I have had fuming days, where I have controlled my anger at him, because its just 2 more weeks I need to put up with, and I generally do not like telling things on face to people.

I just wish people begin to learn the importance of time, and respect it as much as they should.