Posted in Life, Moi, Personal, Thoughts, thoughts to think

I wish there was a pill to slow me down.

I wish there was a pill to slow me down.

I have always been a big fan of my response time to stimuli, I have been very happy about how quick I respond to situations, especially when there is a problem that needs to be dealt with. My philosophy has always been to go with a calculated risk of that of my reactions, a majority of which end up being freakishly accurate.

I wish there was a pill to slow me down.

Over a period of time our abilities become our expectations, and our expectations give us anxiety. When I was very young, I had a better hold on my anxieties, things at stake were much less, and I did not have many things which can end up taking the brunt of my anxieties. Today having a wife and kid of my own, my anxiety affects a larger set of people.

I wish there was a pill to slow me down.

When I begin my day, usually I do with a bag full of energy, waiting to attack any work that comes my way. Working with a team is a lot different from being an individual contributor. You have to respect the fact that each one have their own pace of working and understanding. You need to give them time to learn at their own pace and contribute. There are times when this really gets to me, those are the times where I need to hold myself back from reacting prematurely.

I wish there was a pill to slow me down.

When I deal with my  6 year old son, it has challenges on its own. Kids are moody, they have very little attention span, they have very different priorities than us adults. When I want him to do something, or when I am teaching, him not matching up to my speed at times gets to me. I know it is not an easy thing to teach toddlers, but still the anxiety and anger sometimes makes me question if it is worth it.

I wish there was a pill to slow me down.

At the end of the day, when my body is exhausted, I want to just lay down and relax and my mind is racing about things I want to do the next day, or later in the night. I get a feeling as if, I myself am not able to catch up to my speed. As If my body is staying behind.

I wish there was a pill to slow me down.

If I were to write my epitaph, I guess it would say……

 

Posted in Kindred, Life, Memories, Moi, Nostalgia, Personal, pure pursuit, Thoughts, thoughts to think

Nocturnal

Every time that happened I woke up with a guilt, of having done something which is shameful, something impure, something which a teenager wasn’t supposed to think about. An involuntary, normal and natural function is not supposed to feel like that right?. How was I supposed to think rational, I was a teenager, and I felt what I felt. Worst were the times, when I actually dreamt something sweet and pleasing, and I had to wake up with a feeling of having ruined it forever.

There was no internet back then, I didn’t have access to the latest Agony Aunt Google to answer my questions, I didn’t even know if it was common among other boys, who was I supposed to ask?. It did not even occur to me that this was something I could ask people about. I guess back when we were teenagers we had no access to any kind of material where we could look this up.

It did not change much with age, much later when I could read how common this was, and what causes it and so on, I still continued to wake up with, “What I have done” feeling.

The funny part of all this is that it was never funny, it never has been funny.

One day my son will grow up, and will reach an age where he is going to experience this. I know I am not a cool enough dad who can talk about this with him. I just hope he has enough information to know more about this and not feel the guilt which I do.

Posted in Kindred, Life, Memories, Moi, Nostalgia, Personal, Thoughts, thoughts to think

Nature’s Timemachine

I have always wondered about the associate nature of our memory. It is fascinating to see how our memories are interlinked with various aspects, and a single key can open a huge number of interlinked doors into our past. Many a times it makes me feel, if we were this organized in our thoughts human mind would have discovered wonders.

Just the other day, I was listening to songs from the movie Rangeela. I was pleasantly surprised how I could remember lines to a song which I haven’t heard in ages, and on the same day struggle to remember name of fairly popular Ranbir Kapoor. Our memory is just not fair. It can play games with us, pleasantly surprising at times, and terribly disappointing at others. As I was singing along to the song from Rangeela, my mind was racing into the past, it took me back to my high school days. I was now remembering impromptu singing games we used to have on Saturdays at the end of which students used to be given merit certificates, and how my fellow students used to come up with absurd words to fill the holes in the lyrics to the song they were attempting to sing. I remembered my classmates, and how naïve we were when it comes to boy girl relationships. I remembered this one girl who somehow felt courageous enough to ask me if I could partner her in school antakshari. How big it was for a nerd bookworm like me to be asked for such a thing. I still wonder, how she spotted the love of songs in me.  Anyways, she reminded me of my crush in high school, petty fights with my friends. It reminded me of the insecurities I had in high school, how the fact that I was coming from a less income, majorly kannada speaking household troubled me competing with a majority of upper class, fluent in English peer group. I remember the teachers whose classes I used to love, and how some of them unknowingly were partial towards me. As the song changed on my music streaming app, I just came back to where it all began, the next song from the movie Rangeela.

I guess, I have made my point. How a single trigger took me into a swirl of memories. I have always wondered what triggers these memories, and what is the interlink between each of them.

I believe that the trigger to most of our memories is fired from one of our senses.

There are times when I have been able to smell my way into memories. Somehow there are distinct smells which we associate to certain things, and they just sweep you off into those memories. I remember this distinct smell from my days alone in the united states. It had been a wonderful getaway into a single life, where the life both shattered and nourished my dreams of possible opportunities of living alone in a developed country with a more liberal society than ours. The smell which transforms me into many escapades I had as a single 22 year old, feels like a distant memory now, but I am amazed how smells from empty cardboard boxes can take me back into those days.

There are days when my mom prepares rasam exactly like my paternal grandmother, though very rare. When I am eating my meal, and my taste buds strike a match, my mind invariably races past into the most affectionate period of my childhood with my paternal grandmother. The days, which remind me, what being cared for really felt like. The days when I used to wake up in the morning and sneak into my grandmothers bed for a second nap. The days I could walk into the home and I could smell whats for lunch, and the pleasant surprise on my grandmother’s face looking at a 5/6 year old doing that. I miss the taste of her food. I miss her. I am so thankful for moments like these when something I eat can make people who are no longer with us,  to come back to our lives.

Visuals are probably the most powerful triggers into our memories. You look at something, it many a times reminds us something in our past, setting our memories reeling in super sonic speeds to various periods of our past. We see a photo, and immediately our mind is racing into the time the photo was taken, people who we were with or the place we were in. It opens a bundle of memories about various things associated with that photo. Many a times I look at what my son does, and I am transported into beautiful memories of him being a baby, his cry face especially reminds of all the times when he was a tiny doll for us to play with. Visuals are very powerful when it comes to exploring our memory to give us more visuals from the past which have been close to our heart.

Amongst all the things which remind us of our past, one amazing trigger is  “feelings”. There have been umpteen weekends where on a Sunday evening when I know the weekend is just few hours and the mad rush will begin starting Monday, in midst of a helpless sad feeling, it reminds me of times in my past where I have been helpless and sad, times I have been wanting to curl up into a cocoon and time just freezes. How many times have I watched a movie, and have been so involved with the emotion being presented, that I have gone to my past and found memories of similar emotion that I have felt. Emotions are such abstract things, and yet they can trigger our minds to remember things which are so well associated to that emotion in our mind.

The nerd in me always wonders, what data structure our mind must be using to be able to fetch the values from the triggers, and also iterate to so many related memories from our past by linking across via keys of various types.

The poet in me, is in awe of a wonderful time machine, our mind offers for us to go into past within minutes and feel a reality which once was, with people who once were, and at places we have been.

 

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This day years ago

https://virtualrambling.wordpress.com/2008/04/10/traffic-signal/

 

Posted in Kindred, Life, Memories, Nostalgia, Relationships, Thoughts, thoughts to think

21 years is a long time

21 years is a long time.

No two friendships are alike, every friendships begins differently, it grows with different speeds, some just fade out, some age. Some are beautiful to begin with, some are sour to begin. It is as though each one of them is supposed to live different lives.

Time has dried up a really flourishing river. It had fed a numerous thirsty moments. I can see wet land at places, but somehow it feels like a mirage. I am still hopeful of a thunderstorm which can add life to this one.

This plant felt like a weed, it was just a tag along. Sometimes you ignore things as if they are unimportant, but they surprise you at times coming to the fore. The weed had turned out to be a nice flowering plant. The one which blooms not so often, but when it does, it has a pleasant fragrance. It never grew into a tree. It turned out to be a bonsai.

It was a sumptuous buffet, it had so many items for me to choose from. It fed me with so many tastes, some familiar and some extremely novel. It lead my senses into places in me which I didn’t know ever existed. It has been one never ending buffet. Then it was time for me to go home, with pleasant memories of course. I thought that’s it with this one. The buffet, slowly morphed into my daily diet. It stayed with me during morning breakfast, lunch and dinner. I got so used to it.

One day, suddenly, it became an expensive restaurant. You know you love their food, but you can afford to go there every day. Its just too impractical. Finally it ended up like your grandmothers recipe, its just not there every day, but once in a while when your mom makes it and you eat, it just takes you back into a happy place.

There are times when a long chat can take you back into what had been, and what can still be.

21 years is a long time.