Need a System

Today I give the day to myself, though a big chunk of today was spent in sleeping and coping up with a friend’s hangover, but now it’s for me.

I have thought enough, thoughts that can actually be called as extensions to many other line of thoughts in the same direction that I have had before. I should build a system for myself. A system to live, to do things, to be on track no matter what.
I reckon how much I like the characters of movies who have a system in their life, be it in the way they live, do their chores, or even fold their shirt. I have always wanted to be like that, and I have tried many times too, and there were phases in my life where I have had some success in it but now I want one which is perpetual.

I have lived a large part of my life alone, and another large part of life in the opposite way. And after living both the sides, I have found that I don’t always want to be solitary. I like company, may be not too attached but I still like to be around people, one of the glitches of being a social animal; I am not very sure if I should be calling it a glitch. When there are people involved, there are going to be times when you will be asked or sometimes compelled, to do things that are not exactly on your schedule, that is not exactly on track to what your system defines. Why does that happen? Well, because they are people, and you are too; given that there is no chip controlling us, we cannot be mechanically accurate about living a flow chart. We do have deviations. So I want a system that is fool proof in which it can also adapt, modify and be a system again.
Not very long ago, I was introduced to the concept of Wu-Wei, or the literal meaning – not trying, by a friend of mine. It states how your efforts should not feel like efforts; it should just flow, and adapt and adjust and then again, flow peacefully.

“Be water, my friend” – as Bruce Lee once said. Here is a video with Bruce Lee saying it (the quote is followed with a lot of his moves, which you can skip if you are not into “super awesome things that Bruce Lee can do”)

I want my system to be like that. Still, calm, peaceful and even if something comes up to interrupt the flow, like a pebble thrown in a pond, it should ripple only when it hits, adjust and then be back to being the system it was.

I saw this video that merges the concept of Wu-Wei with another concept laid forward to us by Malcolm Gladwell in his book ‘Outliers’. By this merger the host of the video tried to show how you could achieve the state of Wu-Wei. Malcolm Gladwell pointed out that all successfull people who are legendary in what they do, who look like they were born to do it, have done it constantly for a very long time. They kept doing it, day in, day out, for so long that now their body and mind responds to it, flows with it, and whatever it is that they were doing, is now part of them; be it playing a guitar or even abstract thinking. He gives a figure – 10000 hours; 10000 hours of practice, of doing what you want to be a legend at. The video I mentioned adds another line, that after doing it for so long, it becomes a habit. You no more try to play a tune, it just flows out of you. You think of a tune and your fingers will play it on a guitar without you putting efforts on your brain. That is Wu-Wei right there. Doing something without trying. Wake up regularly at 6 and then you do not need efforts, you do not need coffee; you will wake up, as if your sleep just naturally stops to continue any further after it is 6. That is Wu-Wei too.

I want a system that follows this principle. Something that I will do for so long, that then it will be a part of me; then I wont have to take efforts to follow it any more.

I have tried many systems, but I am going to rediscover myself. I will start from the scratch and keep trying different recipes till I get my system. Something that is rigid, yet flexible.
Something like water.
So today I take the time for myself. Today I start to make a system.

Will you wait? (A short dialogue between love and logic)

I will be back; though I am very sure that you wont be here waiting for me when I do. But I will come any way, because I would rather be home and alone, than somewhere else and unsure.

What if I will be right here, when you come back; waiting for you, and happy to see you back? What if you will be welcomed with me running towards you, my tears leaving a trail behind me as I run and with heart beats so loud that you can hear it from a distance? What if I come and hug you and with it thank all the Gods above for your return? What then?

Will you?

I don’t know. It’s in the future, far ahead in time. I cannot be certain.

I know that it is far ahead in time, I know it is the future and I do acknowledge the uncertainties that lie on the path of any decision I thereby take. However, it would have been better to know that you were sure of being here, just like after all those unforeseen parameters, I am sure of coming back. I know you hate to talk without rationale. I know I may not be logical right now, but I wish, just for once, you answered a little stupidly.

Will that make you feel better; for me to say things without logic, to hope without reason, and to build castles in thin air? Why would that help?

It would not. But now, when every second brings more pain with it, every moment is slipping right through my fingers, and every step ahead paces me away from you; now when every smile counts. I would not mind a lie, some false hopes and some castles about to be destroyed. Now when I part, allow me  to part not with logic and reason, but with the final memories of a smile we share for dreams we both look forward to.
You could have given me dreams my dear, for reality, it seems, is not working out very well.
See you my love…

Psychedelia – The Leaves

Every key of this keyboard feels like a petal – crisp and old. I can even feel a color, cool it is, how u can feel a color, and see it with your fingers. It’s yellow, and some of them with a hint of orange. The sun is shining bright, and closer to the horizon; it will start to go orange in sometime. It’s yellow for now, but not scorching hot. It’s slightly warm, but soothing warmth it is. Not the one which makes you acknowledge the heat that comes with it, but the one which soothes you nicely from the chill that you would have felt, were the sun absent. The leaves lie everywhere, I stand cautiously to not step on them, and I type this on the leaves. With every press on a key I make sure I retract soon enough to not break the crisp and inflexible dried leaves.

But the monitor, bright, with the letters, letters of this post, shining black; this monitor reminds me that I am still in the office with the walls of my cube that comes along with it. I can see no leaves, only buttons; the tube lights not the sun, is bright, and the air? There is no air, only a cold aura; stagnant, like the minds that surround me.

I should be somewhere better. Open airs, that sun, that leaves, and an alley on the road, bounded by a wall on one side, old wall with fungal growth, covered by creepers – many of them.  The other side of the boundary, the side opposite to the rustic wall – there are trees. Long wood, some short; the ones nearer to the alley road, are shorter than the long, stubborn trees far away. And these leaves, overlapping the street like a torn canopy; torn, for it leaves those small gaps, where if I am careful enough, can walk, without blowing off or crushing these leaves, which rest so gracefully, scantly bathing in the sun, which now is hidden by the green wall to the side. Only some light escape and fall on the leaves, as the sun still peeps from over the wall. It is getting orange now. The far areas of the forest, with those big trees, they are disappearing. Their wood growing darker, their leaves turning black, and slowly it morphs to a big subsuming darkness, now ravenously approaching the shorter trees, for there are no big trees, which stood protecting it. The sun which kept the darkness in check now leaves; it might be angry on the leaves, on the trees, for using it so much but not giving anything back and instead helping and sharing the gifts with others all the time. The sun leaves, as darkness consumes them all, all the trees, and now it is coming for the leaves.

Light! Light is what they need. I run as far as I could to find light, the only way to protect these delicate leaves. I ran, to get light, which went with the sun. I can still bring light; I said with some hope; when I saw this creature indifferent to my desperation, indifferent to the terrible fate that approaches the dear leaves. This stone is it smiling at me? Is it teasing me, standing so boastfully? Why does it stand still when the dear, sweet leaves are in danger? Get up. I should throw a stone at it, to galvanize it, I thought. So adamant, it is still silent. More stones, big strokes, all with persistence. Somehow, I want more for him to show support than attending to the leaves. Get up, I shouted, the sound paralleled with another stone I threw, and a spark I saw. A bright one, it blazed and followed some more. Light! There is light. I hit him more, I might murder it I doubted, but I did not care. I hit more, and there were more sparks. Light! I shouted jubilantly, and the light settled on some leaves. I smiled. I saved them, and I let go a sigh of relief which added up to the breeze and amplified the light. A breeze of sun! I announced, as the breeze carried with it the flame to all the leaves. And it takes me with it, to a world of light, for my efforts I took to save them from dark. I am in the sun, with my leaves. They still grow dark, but it’s not that darkness that ate the trees, I saved them from it.  The leaves dance, they must be so happy. Closed my eyes are, as I feel the sun over my body, hot it was, not soothing like that sun, but I like the heat.

Am I on the sun that was behind the wall? Am I that one that was far away? How did I arrive here? Magic Stone! I acclaimed, as the heat became a part of me. I realized I was becoming the sun. Powerful! I claimed. I was ready to see it, and I shouted before my voice dissolves with the sun and my vision becomes part of the light.

Let me see my world from here.

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9 things to do when you accidentally post a Draft on your blog

Now just to be sure that I am connecting with people who have not blogged much, or whose blogging jargon are different than the one that my blog provider uses; drafts are those posts, that are not published yet as blogs. They might be unfinished posts, or things that you wrote when you were having an emotional downhill ride and would not ever actually post it, or a textual harangue against someone or something that you wrote just to let go off the steam. Hence being one of those contents that can put facets of you out to the public that you have hidden from them, a draft getting posted as a blog accidentally can sometimes easily be a permanent trauma-inducing nightmare. So here are 10 things that you can do when such a mishap occurs.

1. Suicide

Wo! Did that came too sudden and too directly in the face? Well, sometimes your drafts have more than you would ever want to reveal to the world, things that you are ashamed to even acknowledge but it is jotted down just because you thought drafts are not public and so the information stays just with you, and that you will edit it, and coat it with a pleasant veneer later, if ever it is to be posted. But you never saw the possibility of your stupidity being the very thing breaking into that secure shell and letting go all of those insecurities, infatuations, indifference and ‘in the face’ truths, out there in the open, for the people, the general common mass, to judge you, and if time permits, even grade your morality. Now, killing yourself does not sound like much of an overreaction does it?

2. Hack the platform

This is a conspicuous techie job. If you are well versed with online stalking, like the real deal online psycho-stalking, you probably are good with hacking. In which case, you have your solution right in front of you, disguised as this sinful skill of the modern world – Hacking. Hack into your blog service provider; delete all logs of anything ever happening for the last 1 day. It is like the small memory eraser stick of ‘Men in Black’ with the only difference of this one being easier, if you are a hacker, and if you are as radical as to hack your blog platform for an accidental post. Just make sure it is legal; or don’t bother; you were a dedicated psycho-stalker, legal issues won’t make much of a difference to your decision.

3. Memory Eraser Stick

Now that we have mentioned it, why not think of a less pragmatic approach. Make the memory eraser stick they showcased in ‘Men In Black’. Research it, engineer, and do it yourself. And once you are done with it, flash it on every individual in the world. Please do not think of going around on your private car, knocking at doors and flashing your stick when people open their door (okay that sentence can be totally misconstrued in a lecherously exhibitionist way). Think a bit practical. You just made a memory eraser stick, you are genius enough to make rockets and small spy rockets that will circumnavigate the globe, go to each crack and crevice and flash the many sticks, which you engineered, seamlessly.

4. Blame it on a friend

If you want an easier solution; you can always blame it on somebody else. Make a new post, laugh about the previous one, and say you will be deleting the blunder that your friend – who you had trusted you with un-password-protected laptop and blog account, and who wrote many embarrassing truths about you as a draft for some reason – committed. Culpable act, but you can live with it.

5. Blame it on a random stranger

Better than blaming it on your friend, just blame it on a random guy. Say that somebody hacked into your account “apparently” and did some weird things – the weirdest of which would be, that random stranger knowing things about you that none of your friends did. Anyway, cover up efficiently, and put it all on the anonymous third person.

6. Blame it on your other personality

This one is my favorite. “Now it even types” can be the title of the new apology post, and you can then start explaining this really cool, and really cool-y creepy fact, that you always had a split personality but it was only limited to occasional acts of small violence and murder and somehow it has crossed all its limits by creating an ethically wrong post. Gain sympathy. Though you will end up losing many friends after this explanation, but hey, nice cover up.

7. Blame it on the platform

Like every democratic citizen, when nothing works, blame the government (platform, in this case). Create a new post, do not right much in it, just write random things, things that are not relevant to you, give it a weird title, again not relevant to you, and post it. Then send an apology mail filled with diatribe towards your blog service provider. Tell how notoriously weird it is behaving, and that these random, irrelevant posts are going on as a trouble for many bloggers. Tell you have sent them a support mail and are waiting for a resolution.

8. Say sorry

Alright, be boring. Send an apology mail, with the first apology for sending an unfinished post, and followed by many apologies to any person or thing that you may have hurt with the post. Also tell, with a blatant and conspicuous dishonesty, that nothing written in the post was meant, and that it was just a post on the way of refinement.

9. Delete the draft. No one noticed.

Yeaaah probably no one noticed. I mean if u r quick enough and if your internet service provider is not highly mercurial, you can delete the post quickly and be assured that not many noticed. Of course, there might be many notifications with your title and an excerpt of your post, sent to people who follow you, and at such places; notifications which cannot be retracted. In which case, you should just kill yourself.

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Do not turn back now

Do not turn back. It would not be a good idea to turn back now. Keep moving forward, though the path looks tremendously tortuous with a myriad number of dark areas, but keep walking. Walk through the shades if you feel they are the right turns, you eyes will be accustomed and you will be able to see.

Do not stop now, do not turn back, because you have walked through that way, and whatever was there was not good enough to keep you entrenched. You moved away from it and thus you stand here. What lies ahead may be good or bad, but donot vacillate now, for what lies behind is conspicuously not enough.

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The Fall

I see myself being devoured in darkness. An abyss, the infinite depths of which scare me as I am being pulled more into it; fear takes hold of me as I pace down, uncertain of when the fall will stop, of when it will end, and along with it, may be my own life.

I know that the sooner I touch ground, the sooner I will cease to live, for the fall accelerates, buffered by nothing. There is absolutely nothing to hold on to, and even if there is; the darkness yields no vision of such an object. I wish I had seen more clearly as I walked, as I trod the paths that led me now, though unwillingly, here.

Has there been more great a dilemma, as the one I face now? A part of me is clinging onto life, praying that this fall should never stop, that a ground beneath should not exist. And there is another part which wants this trauma to end, to meet the ground, to stop being in the anxiety that hurts more than my heavily pounding heart. The former is definite of its fate – would there be no end to the fall ever, life is certain. The latter however is not sure – will it be hard ground, or will it be something that will absorb the impact, that will help me land alive and not crash to my doom.

Though confused the other part is, but more reasonable its desire. For a life with worry, a life only to exist, one with the sole purpose of being alive is more stagnant than death itself. You may still move, you may still breath, but only that much differentiates you from the dead.

Though confused the other part is, but more reasonable its desire. For it is better to take a risk, to be sure eventually, than to be at the mercy of a fall. You may live at the end and develop more purposes to be alive, more dreams, to live for; or you may encounter death, but the prospect of a better life, a life where you live, is better than to just exist. A risk taken to gain a life with more possibilities is better than one with no real purpose.

So now, I dream. I close my eyes, ignore the fall, the strong drafts that pushes my skin inside. For now, I dream, of what I would do when I live, I will plan of my steps once I land, I will be ready for my life, if it comes, as soon as this fall stops.

I may hit hard ground, but till then I would not spend my time praying for the fall to last; instead, ready for life, I will make myself, if life, not doom, is what awaits at the end of this fall.

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Lost the touch of solitude

I have lost the touch of loneliness. I kind of used to be an expert on it. Living alone, keeping myself shut from others, not being close to people; that and many more things qualified me to be a really skilled solitude-man. But not in my dreams had I thought that one day I would drop my grades in it; lose my touch in the art.

It is an art, of course. Humans are social by instinct, and to go against that and be perfectly fine, productive and to shine; that requires a lot of upstream swimming. You have to define rules, boundaries, and still feel free. You have to always look for ways to escape before you get into any social situation, and fill your mind with enough things to accompany you, so that you will never miss being with someone other than you.

People would call being alone, a depressing idea; but I disagree; I was rather proud of myself for being good at it, for being a successful and a happy solitary man. But I think it all started to change from that day, when I had sought out for people. This tracks back to only about a month ago; I do not exactly know the reasons that led me into that scenario, in fact, I think I had no peculiar reason as such. What I can clearly remember is me calling out to my friends, desperately I must add, to make a plan, for a night out. “I want to be with people.” was what I repeatedly said; it kind of felt weird after that night passed, because that statement made me look like an alien in this world of people.

I did have a night out that night, and it was a good one. However, since that night, I kind of kept having a lot of hang outs, planned a lot of them, and planned rather frequently.

Two days ago I shifted to a new place. From a room shared with 5 other people, I shifted to a smaller apartment where I could live alone; something I had always wanted, or at least something I truly wanted before the weird “I want to be with people” night.

I, now, finally live alone, but now I miss people. I keep looking at my cell to see if there are any text messages, I keep thinking if I should call someone for a hang out. I have lost the touch of something that I was proud to be. I am not sure if it is something good or bad, but I surely do know, that I just need to let this pass by. I will be back on my track, filling my brains with enough stuff to keep myself occupied, leaving little time to think about others. However, I also am pretty sure, that from now, I wont mind missing people. I wont think twice before calling a friend if I feel like being with him or her. I do realize that with it, comes the attached traumas, like disappointment, expectations, plans getting cancelled, friend not responding, futile waits, and a lot more. But, that is collateral; maybe one day like seedless grapes and bananas, humans will devise a way to have happy attachments without the emotional-behind-the-scenes-trouble; till then I will try to spit out the seed, and enjoy the pulp and sweet juice.

I will be the solitude-man again, regain my touch; but I will blend it with just the right amount of people, friendship, love and emotions. And that, I think, is not a bad thing.

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For a person who had never changed his blog’s appearance since it was  up and running, changing the theme and blavatar for the second time within a gap of less than two months is like a spree. But hey, I finally can tell that I have settled.

I was not peculiarly happy with my recently changed theme and blavatar, I found something lacking, rather, something more than what should have been there. When it  comes to my desired look for ‘Random Nerves’, minimalism and elegance are my words of choice, and with the formerly changed theme and blavatar I kind of found those words partially lost.

But now, it’s all in place. The theme has changed, I have put in a custom header and also, the blavatar; that has changed too, for good. I am truly happy with the new look and I now can stop fidgeting with the themes.

My lacrimal glands – they work after all

I could finally feel tears. Only a drop, but a drop at least.
It has been so long, and so hard; that even after the many times I tried, I still could not ever feel a single drop.
I had almost started to feel that I would never ever be able to cry, no matter what happens to me or in front of me.

A dysfunctional lacrimal gland or tear gland, sounded like an illness, so – ‘I cried the most with a person, and I lost my tears with her’ – is how I explained it to myself.

I saw a video in my downloads folder with the prefix piXx03, a prefix that photos and videos captured from my old mobile phone used to have. As far as I remember, I had cleaned up my downloads folder about a month ago, and as far as my memory served, I am not able to recollect when I downloaded this or even of a place on the internet where this file could possibly be. I might have done something subconsciously, I thought, and went ahead to watch it. It was her. It was a video of her I had captured long back.

The video just had her in it and a song playing in the background, a slow one, it was playing on her cell phone. She was sitting there, on the floor, with her legs bent, and loosely held with her arms wrapped around them. She sat like that, expressionless at first, for a long time; then she looked at me, smiled, said something and then went back to looking to her left. I could not hear what she said as the sound and background noise overshadowed her voice. Her face clearly showed signs of discomfort, some restlessness, something that was bothering her. She looked at me again, now realizing that my phone had video recording turned on. She smiled and I saw more of something she hid within herself. She wanted to speak, I knew she did, back then, and it is so evident that she did, now, from this video. She bit her lips a couple of times, and she looked at me once more. Her eyes talked, and I remember myself listening to them. She knew I listened, she knew I ignored, and, she knew why.

The video ended. 3 minutes and 10 seconds of a past I never really forgot. My face was cold, it felt like my cheeks were shivering, and my vision blurred. I smiled, as a tear drop filled my left eye, and dropped down with a cold streak on my, still shivering, cheek.

My lacrimal glands; they work after all.

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Empty drawer

She threw it away; did not even ask me once; she never does it like that. My mom knows how obsessed I am with my room, and each and every thing that it holds. How could she just walk in, open my drawers, take those bangles and throw them away assuming they might not be of any use to me.

I don’t remember if it was the last time we had met, but I am certain that it was at least close to the last time. She had come to my home, my mom and dad were not here; we were no more in any relation with a name, but we still were close. We could not just forget; we were giving each other time to grow away from each other, but I think we both secretly hoped that, that time should never end. She had forgot her bangles at my place. It was one of those ethnic bangles, with a wooden and bronze touch and a matte brown color. I thought I would give it to her the next time she comes. I cannot recollect if she never came after that or she had come few times after that and I forgot to give it back to her; but she never got them back. Those bangles stayed with me. And I liked the fact that they did. It was a small part of her, the only something of her that I might have left, with me, forever.

Whenever I came home and opened those drawers, I smiled when I saw those bangles. We have moved on, but a part of me was clinging onto those bangles, onto her, and I will never let that part walk with me as I move on. I want it to be there; ill advised, but still the way I would like things to be.

Yesterday, when I opened my drawer, it was not there. I asked my mom and to my horror I learnt from her that she threw it away because the last time she asked me about them, I was very evasive about the answer, and so she thought it might not be of any value to me. I could not shout at her because she did not know the value that it held for me; but I could not let myself be shut in either. I shouted, I asked how could she just throw away something that is mine without even asking me. She was sorry, but she was also confused about the reason of my irate behavior. The dubious face she held made me realize that there was no point telling all this to her. I had to let it be.

I have to, now, let it be. It is gone. Not that those bangles would have someday made things back to the way I liked it, neither had I kept those bangles in the hope that she would someday come back to ask for it. That would be stupid, and besides, I, more than anybody wanted her to move on from me.

But without those bangles, I feel torn, I do not know why. It was not as if I used to always carry it with myself, but maybe the part of me holding it, is gone with it. Or maybe now that part, like me, is stranded alone with nothing to hold on to; unable to move on, but solitary at where it stands. I had let a part of me stay in the past, and now that part is still there, unclear, of what it should be with.

I should have kept them somewhere more secure. This is weird, but I don’t even feel like opening the drawer now.  With all the things that it has, it is still going to look painfully empty.

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