The speaker

September 8, 2010 Leave a comment

I’ve often viewed my life and experiences from an angle not quite unlike the ones found in a flashback of a major celebrity’s life story. You know the one, where a particular event in that personage’s life which might’ve inspired that person to become what they are today.

It is similar; I often envisage reveries in which I’m privvy to a non-descript entity, performing or deseminating and that precise moment where I am a participant but unaware of the impact that will have on my life. These daydreams, do they foreshadow the likelihood of coming events or are they desires to such. Why do I often see my life or renderings of history through such a theatric lens. Maybe there’s credence to that air, after all as Shakespeare once said, “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”

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Life: Charter [Chapter: the Eye]

September 8, 2010 Leave a comment

When the storm abates, when the calm claims stake, nothing is as it seems. The easiness with it that it brings, makes the reprieve ever so welcome, just as any state of mind it seems to appear on its own yet as time and experience have shown, this is not so. All are part of the skills and strategies learned, instinctively, voluntarily or both.

Usually the calm occurs right after a tumultuous experience or set of experiences. The cast of which may be ever changing, but the roles nonetheless only bear all too familiar faces from the past.

What is the essence of self, why have I been living the way I have, thinking the way I am? I often had instances where it seemed I’d awakened from a slumber and wondering where I am or who I am. It never lasts long, like venetian blinds revolving to display the next ad or message in a giant billboard, the moment is gone and hardly ever seen or thought of again.

Every person is born the same, borne of unawareness and slowly building, fulfilling breadths of existence as if it were meant to be. Whether it is the artist carving the figurine from the block of wood or if the wood molding the artist is a question which seems to loop and prevail, each perspective as valid and sentient as the other.

Why is it that we seem to be blinded to this, and why does it seem more natural and sensible when I am caught in this state of questioning than we are in a world with it’s artificial laws and restrictions and compliance. A being aware of itself in a higher state, all these questions and so little answers, seems so far removed from the daily rigors and robotic routines and thought patterns seemingly instilled in everyone of us as we go through what we’ve come to know and accept as living. From a higher sense that muted, unquestioning, regulatory existence seems as unrewarding, unregarding as a self-subjugated ant fulfilling the cumulative goal of its colony.

Does the ant know what it’s doing or that it might be watched by a higher entity, namely us humans who are so aware or ourselves. Do people realise this?

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Whilst in the library, part 2

April 19, 2010 Leave a comment

This time his mind wandered effortlessly from the drudgery of finding research solutions to the exam hints. For some unexplicable reason the last several days have had been of depressing retrospection. Of finding his friends in places he wished he was and believed he rightly deserved it more than most. Rampant thoughts bludgeoning his serenity to mass of whinging aches. This time it was a cursory question of whether his auld school had a website.

Ofcourse it has a website he thought, “It’s a decade into the 21st century.” He knew every institution had a website; his people were adept at technology, primitive and crude as they were in other areas. “Ah, not much aesthetics here.” He knew effectiveness was primary to these people. It’s all they knew, churn out more numbers. The higher the better. Design analytics aside, the meandering turned to one or two photos, financial reports which he decided not to download when the dialog box popped up, “Cancel.”

Then finally to the part he dreaded almost as much as the depressing surroundings, bland, repressive cultures and narrowmindedness – the course syllabi that he struggled with so hard. As he skimmed through a few that he’d always loved but never had the opportunity or drive to excel in, he realised if only he had a second chance or a better environment. Surprisingly he did not feel as hopeless or inferior as he’d previously felt when confronted with ghosts of highschool past.

The material seemed on par, at places more advanced, then what he was doing at the moment. But then again that place always did have very high hardness levels, yet Indian education was classed as lacking in quality. It was hard to get a grip on, why is something so tough to get through given such low ratings. Not that he wanted it to be given praise. It got the work done, but it was not a pretty sight. Sure the steam engine was effective, but it was loud, dangerous and as efficient when it came to later forms.

Then he was brought back to reality again, for all the new things he’s experienced and learned, for these brief moments he was drawn back into the mentality of then. How crippling and sad it all was, that same distaste of it all, the dread and agony. Now turning his head he caught sight of a blonde in tights and a long dress top. Ah how different a world he grew up in. This all existed then, a world free from repression, where the female form had an unfair advantage and was free to parade around in skin tight clothing or almost naked. A stark contrast to abhaya (burkhas) clad women or racial sub groups that had lesser physicalities.

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Whilst in the new library

April 12, 2010 Leave a comment

In the midst of writing out research topics for exams in the new found peace of the other library, he would wander onto topics of personal interest.

Trying to write out lines based on new words he’d just found online:

“The present state of life had left his intellectual level in a nonfecund state. A few avenues were hazily mapped out in his mind’s eye. Metiers he’d always wanted to be in.

Always in a constant struggle to devise heuristic plans and methods to teach himself as well as leaving a system easily reusable for others.”

Only to reassure himself that it might not be accurate usage, but nonetheless he strives.

“These distractions add to nothing while i’m trying to make a new future for me.” thinkin to himself while vacillating between taking a break and or enduring longer. “I’m starving and need to finish typing these topics out and need to take a break. Why do I always end up planning and never start…”

He quickly realises that his phone hasn’t been checked in a while. Normally it would vibrate to alert him to new messages and phone calls but often he’d found that messages and calls would pile up without even the slightest of notice.

On checking he finds his friend had called and messaged him to meet as they’d talked about the week prior.

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Hello world!

March 29, 2009 1 comment

Welcome to WordPress.com. This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!

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