On the Sidewalk

I like sitting on the sidewalk on the Outer Ring road early morning and watch the traffic pass-by.The slow glowing up of the sky and the accompanying gradual disappearance of headlights.It gives a perspective on life where the disappointments and turmoils of college life are insignificant. It reminds me that somewhere out there, there is a bigger picture, a bigger world. I will graduate in about 1.5 years. But this road will remain.The traffic will be the same. and somewhere down the years, maybe there'll be another student sitting on the pavement and scribbling on the handout he was supposed to read. He might not have been suffering from the same romantic disappointments or disillusionment that I have, he might not have been bearing a burden and feeling helpless, but in this one moment on the road out thoughts will align. and if I  still exist then, I would probably be far far away dealing with a whole new set of cobwebts.

There is no point

is what she said. is what I've known.
Yet these words have been ringing in my head as if I actually heard them.
and Yet these have had a bigger impact than "FYI, I have a boyfriend". Because they hit right where I am most vulnerable. And that is hope. Hope which shouldnt exist. That she had a boyfriend is just a fact, is just an occurence I couldnt have controlled. But hope is my own doing.

The Unbearable Helplessness of Being

I wonder how much fake I am? I know I am one, might be the most fake person here. No spontaneity. Never.

I know deep under that i wanted to talk about her. I wanted to lighten the burden. Perhaps in one dark corner, I wanted her to help. To help release the pain. or maybe heal it. Maybe even make fate turn on  its way, turn around, come back and lift me on its shoulders. Suddenly transform me to some other dimension where everything is alright.

How poignant such dreams are. Because one thing i have definitely learnt in life is how shallow dreams are. How impossible it is to make them into reality. How helpless you are. And I am still in a process of learning the compromise. Of abandoning concepts like hope. and it is an excruciating task.Losing hope. Forgetting is easier.
What do these tears even mean? After a while ago, maybe even hours, I am sure taht I would be telling myself how immature I have been, how stupid and fake I've been. I will tell myself to be strong and move ahead.
I am such a conniving guy. I fucking did want to talk to her about her. Yet I masked myself.


I should see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Or maybe Vanilla Sky. yes. thats so close to what I've been feeling. I created a memory of her yesterday. I want it to develop in some parallel world where everything is alright. where She'll not disappear right in front of me. And I wont be here.in my room. In tears.contemplating what life is.I dont want to jumping off from the top into reality.

I created a memory of her. And it will torture me for the rest of my life.
Wouldnt it be better to just die?

Diamond in the Sky

Is Life simply a pursuit of creating happy memories? 

Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. THAT'S relativity. - Einstein

and It didnt feel like a night at all. It felt like just a few mins. Even thought I didnt have much to say, or even her.

I wanted to create a memory of her. I needed a night like this. Even though we are not meant to be. 

How can life to this to me? 

I've always believed that I always fall for girls only if they show a little bit of attention to me. I've never believe in romantic idealistic notions of love. But the point is , she has never shown it.  I can sense something intangible connecting me to her. Why can she not sense it too?

Why did life do this? Why did it bring her so close to true likeness, almost improbabilistically the one, and yet do this.

She didnt even remember me from 2nd year. I have never  been at the end of this.It was a big blow to what some might call my leonian ego.I've had the habit of forgetting people , or not noticing them. But rarely been at the end of it.

I never expected it.and I acted like a creep.

and yet I am just being immature and stupid and uncool.I know I am. 

I still remember that vague image of her, in a suit and a boycut in sip and byte - my early days in college, probably even my bday. 

I want to see Serendipity. 

I have a memory with her, and I guess that's the best I could and should hope for. 

Damn that IITB guy. 

Linguistic Handicaps

Form and reason. Linguistic Handicaps. Such a handicap that the self aware being cant even describe his own handicap through language. Which makes all this self-referential paragraph a milieu of nonsense. And by the very non-sense of this text, comes the essence that describes the linguistic handicap that sensible language so failed to describe. So did language fail?

Hona hai jo hone de

If you believe 
We've got a picture perfect plan 
We've got you fooled 
'Cause we only do the best we can 
And sometimes we make it 
And sometimes we fake it 
But we get, one step closer each and very day 
When we figure it out our own way..

She

What makes a good life? As a sit in my room, listening to music and reading the relationship between science and technology, this s the question that is plaguing my head. What makes a good life? A life full with no regrets.Where I dont have this sickening feeling of having followed the wrong path.
What are my dreams? Will following and achieving them make my life good.
I am lovesick.I look at her and I know that its would never be.Because I've not grown into someone ...I just havnt been what I wanted to be. AND i know that that person who was meant to be with her is the person I aspired to be. Thats probably why she inspires me and depresses me. She makes me realise that I havnt been that person. That I might never be.
Is this it? Is this the semester of slow painful realisation? She is like a mirror who shows me myself. Should I keep away from her? Shall i stay under the delusions?

Let me list out the traits of that image , of the simulcra, the representation:

1. He is knowlegdable, argumentative and fluent in English. Can strike a wonderful conversation with anyone anytime
2. He is good looking, knows how to dress and treat people, slightly chivalrous
3. He has travelled a lot and adept at practical work
4. Writes well.

What makes a good life? Being that person would make my life good?
Surely studying and getting good grades doesnt make life good. Does it?
Yes, partly.

I dont want to look innocent and childlike anymore. I want to look imposing and suave.
Perspective of life.of self. Thats all there is to it.

I can see her getting away.

Things to do:

Debating
Writing
Photography
Movie Making
Travelling

Yes, she is the girl next door. My girl next door.She would be my inspiration. She would be the bootstraps that would pull me out of the swamp..Ok.wrong metaphor.

I need to improve.I need to go out.
I should buy Shuvi a gift.

Yes.

Shuvi and Sudarshana. Preeti? I am lucky to have em. I should not run away. He wouldnt have.
As for career choice, no. Finance, Consulting > MS> PhD as of now.
Here I come.Out of the Wild.

Delusions of Work

I've grown into this dangerous mix of procrastinator and perfectionist.I leave work for late and when I actually start, I want to do it perfectly.

Barber's paradox

I fear that pretty soon my barber will face his own version of Barber's paradox. :|

Memories

I forget but I do not forgive.