A part of which world dotdotdot

I'm laughing, only on the outside
My grin is only skin-deep
If you could share with me my thoughts for but a moment
Perhaps you'd join me, for a weep

So what's interesting about that? Perhaps two things. One that the very moment I finished typing it my MP3 player ran out of power. And two, that it isn't by me, and is just slightly modified in the way that I best remembered it. Tell me, have you ever danced with the devil by the pale moonlight?

On Purple Clouds

A thin line appears, that seems to spread across my field of vision. It's followed by hazy purple clouds, before there is nothing left but darkness. Perhaps not the most horrific of images, unless it happens to be on your most precious laptop. The machine that has so faithfully served me since June 2002, the end of my college-era, has finally fallen. An msn conversation early last week erupted into these clouds that would hound my dreams for a long long while. I did manage to exert all my powers to retrieve the many precious pictures I had on a single disc, but the documents are lost. Please remove your hats, place them on thy hearts, and mourn with me for a while.

On Blogging

If one were to, say, imagine every post as bait. Then that "prized" position of first poster would be the fish that leads them all to their doom. And every comment would be paying homage to the skill of the fisherman. But we don't see it as such. What we see it as is us, them, and them so much more sure, in themselves, then we are in us. Or do we just see through it all, like another face on the underground. A week of no typing has made my fingers stiff.

On Advertising

The tube seems to be a place most perfect for such items. For in recent news I have learnt of a 35 pound all inclusive trip to Alton Towers, and the existence of free air guitars for every customer at Madam Tussauds. We like our ads, those that are well made. Perhaps that's why we applied there, and yet were not suited to a life such as that. Sin City out June 3rd. How do I know?

On Thoughts

Why start every portion with "the"? So I use a pointless sentence like the last one to change my monotony. Pathetic. And the best thoughts always come so late at night. In bed. Those that I would most like to store. When I sit here, it is just dim memories of my plan that I put down. All this was meant to be separate posts. But now I squiggle them together out of impatience.

On Eyelashes

They fall off now and again. Do you blow them off a fingertip and make a wish? Because I do, for though I believe not that they shall make my wishes come true, it still feels good, and I have no reason to believe I shall not be lucky once more.

On Sleeping

It is said, by those who know such things, that the position in which we lay ourselves down to sleep speaks volumes with regards to our inner-selves. Perhaps, for originally I was one who favoured the curl, and now prefer more of an "h" shape. I don't know what this means, maybe I don't even care. But it's a thought, so it lives, and I give it flesh. Skin, helps keep our insides, in!

On Friendship

One person to whom I owe a lot is Sherry, and I suppose what makes it easier to say is that he doesn't read this. Not that those girls as provided their support and friendship were not wonderful, but he has always been a slice of home. And now, three years on, when I see how many stayed in touch, and what slim lines we balanced on, I wonder how deeply I might have lost myself if there was not something so real from my past to keep me grounded in whatever reality I have created for myself. My distatste for these foreign lands is complete, as the sun sets I realise I am a creature of the night not as one that loves it but as one that finds solace yet solitude in it. For their lives and mine shall never be one. And of the others that have remained, some of whom read and others that do not, I shall never offer my gratitude for that is too nice, but a nod in your direction visible or not.

On Cricket

We won we won, yay yay yay!

On the Weekend

So it was that the Easter Weekend came to pass, and we went not to Paris as the plan originally stood. Instead, those finances as existed for the tunnel hop went to the Zee Cine Awards, which was if nothing else, a real experience. Unfortunately I discovered I have a deep level of disgust for desi's as well, so instead I shall just generalise and say I hate all people except for the people I don't hate, and I cover my hatred with sugar to remain friendly on the surface until someone gets too close and accidentally rubs it off. Oh but I'm never angry nor rude, for it is more like keeping your hand over a kettle as the water boils aways, first clammy, and then scalding... scorching I prefer. The awards themselves, ignoring the audience, were somewhat fun, somewhat not. Watching our dear Pakistani Representetives march up there and make utter fools of themselves, and geez Reema was awful, yes that was... humorous yet devastating. The only person I could really show off to was Fahad, and yet he knows everything before I tell him, so as soon as I mentioned I had something to show off about he knew where I had been. Phaw.

On Cousins

I have a new one, the mamoo in Sweden finally deciding to enter the wonderful world of parenthood. Girl. Samr/Samer/Summer, however they plan to spell it. Sweet, I suppose, but my relationships with all my cousins thus far have always been rather rocky. When you're two decades older than your cousin though, I suppose they'd be more distant than rocky anyway.

On Empathy

Just because we understand, doesn't always mean we know what to say. And when we know what needs to be said, we know not how to say it. It takes a great leap of courage, and oft now in this new world have I seen great friendhsips crumble under misplaced honest words. Perhaps it's the people. Perhaps twas the foundations that were a lie. But now we listen, we understand, we nod and we smile. And we let our eyes talk for those that would listen, and our tongue is barred from causing more pain than is needed. It is not necessary, to test every boundary, lest it break.

On Fashion

It struck me only recently how I can see thousands of people in the same day, and never will I see one wearing the same thing I wear. Just slightly less remote are the chances of seeing any two people wearing the same thing within a space of 10 metres. Usually much more. There's only so many different clothes. The variation in tastes is amazing. And yet there is that I can admire, and so much I can't. When the American came and was shocked by what we wore, for we wore "normal" clothes, jeans and proper tops, that wasn't right, at least for Purdue. There they come in shorts and a vest to lectures. Thanks the Lord I didn't go there, yet I do want to go work in America at some point. Subtle differences might be all one needs.

On Subtle Inflections

How. We. See. Only. Whats. Not. There. And. Miss. Whats. Here.
?!
There was an odd style in an article or two of our Aitchisionian. Wotsits?
:-/

On The Knights Templar

While a large-ish amount of study on the matter completely piked my interest, the book I grabbed from an accquaintance has been rather difficult to read. Working more like a history book, while many of its offered insights are truly remarkable, I keep falling asleep while reading it. Oh but if historians could write well the world would be a more pleasing place. Or even conspiracy theorists for that matter.

On a Lifetime

Which is never enough. There is so much to see. So much to do. So much to learn. I envy those who know, by now, so much more than I do. And yet we've all lived equal amounts and for every speck of knowledge I don't have, I know something they do not. Was reading LOTR twice, and watching the same movies over and over again a waste of precious time? Perhaps. How about those hours spent sleeping, when many would argue that only 6 is enough. Does it really give me that extra energy? Perhaps, again. I wish I knew more. I wish I'd seen more. I'm happy and content, yet straining against those restraints I can neither see nor identify. Part of me wants to be a part of this world, to take it in. To understand what the people know. To be able to meld so freely in smoke-filled bars. Not the latter, no. Auras wrap around me and fill me with a gut-wrenching nausea whenever I am near a public house. Took me while to learn it's the real name for a pub and not a toilet anyway. So many lives. And you see so many. Walking by you, pushing by you. What do they all go home to? I'm satisfied now, but a part of me hopes, and this is a far more significant part, that when I die, I shall for a while at least, be able to roam the world freely, and take in all the nature that my prison of concrete does keep away from me. At least then. my worry about decent nearby showering facilities shall be somewhat diminished.

On Studying

Ashamed I am to admit it, but I liked being spoonfed. Finding miles of papers to read through hurts. And I grow bored so easily. A challenege, any challenge is good. But it is no challenge to read hundreds of papers, though they might prepare me for my ultimate challenge... again. Why am I here? I've wasted countless precious moments when I could have been reading on any number of economic theories. Yet my internet withdrawal for over a week, I didn't miss msn as such. I have recently found myself unable to focus on msn, losing the conversation thread sooner than it has begun. I hail no one, and just sit there, watching conversations die because I can't be motivated to push them forwards. And... they stop coming. So I'll keep in touch otherwise, but what keeps me from studying now is too many thoughts, too many hopes, and the loneliness of wrapping myself in a shell with paintings so dull that my eyelids fall of their own accord.

On the Blue Ninja

I find it fascinating how far this project has gone. For something that runs only in my mind, I have saved the world several times, and it plays in parts, almost like episodes. And as the character grew older and started to hit 40-something, was married and what not, I had to kill his wife... my own, I don't know. Technically I am myself supposed to be the Blue Ninja, with the most complete and intricate storyline ever, far off, yet unnamed places and characters. I've reset time, or a being has anyway. And now I'm in medieval times, aboard a ship, captain of that and another as we sail through perilous seas to enlist the aid of the elves to close the huge demon portal that was opened to save the world, and yet might cause more harm than good should they break free...

On Time

There's never enough. And maybe that's the best thing about it!

Das vadanya!