Option A – What goes on different in the minds of the anti-socials?

Its that question that many ask themselves and few ask aloud in a crowd.
What is it that a criminal mind thinks that doesnt make him stop while he does a crime?
What is it that a sadist has it going in his head which prevents him from regretting after an act of sadistic self gratification?

The small thing that happened today might not be a big answer to it all, but in some way might answer some of it in a small fashion.

Due to some recent activities that went around in my life, and some recent urges to make a simple contraption to do something that had an easy and cheaper alternative, I had managed to penetrate a knife one inch down in my left hand, in one of those dreaded spots – the place between your thumb and the index finger. I walked for around 30 minutes in a vest and a colored track pant before I could find a doctor. She helped me crack jokes about my injury and the many holes on my muscles and tissues. She assured that I will have a huge swelling within few days and work would be something that I would have to postpone for at least a week.

Having said that, this is one of those injuries, that more than the physical pain, irritates you throughout the day and refrains you from doing anything wholeheartedly; like how I behaved when I was in the bathroom managing to get a shower without getting my injured hand wet. In the process I dropped the hand shower with a huge noise, a noise that makes you sure that something is broken; something was, and it was not my tiles. I did not care about it until the shower was done, and after it was done, I did not care enough. I just picked it up, held it straight to see if it leaks; which I discovered that it did, and then threw it in the half empty bucket. (saying the “half empty bucket” makes me a stereotypical pessimist).

After that when I opened my bathroom door for my evening shower, which happens when I am too bored, too dulled out, and too lazy to take a walk; I heard the sound of water dripping down. It had just started, the sound, which initially sounded like drops soon became a steady stream of water which I soon found was from the now overflowing bucket where I had threw the hand shower. Did I care to do anything now? Well that is a different thing. The primary thing to focus on is what I thought about it.
Two thoughts spawned in my head, and they are presented below in the order in which they had spawned.
A. Why did it start right when I entered the bathroom? It was as if the bucket was waiting for me to come, so that it could over flow and show me that I should have cared more, that the carelessly performed inefficient task for not wasting the water, was not good enough.
B. Or did it actually wait for me to enter, so that I could just introduce a new empty bucket to do the job? So that I can still carry on with my ways so long as I know when it has leaked enough.

Now the question that we asked formerly – Did I care to do anything now? Yes. Yes I did. I changed the bucket.

And that explained a lot to me even while I was doing it. I did not care much to do anything like calling the plumber or even thinking for a better solution. And that is what makes it worse. Now the question which had set the premise to this all – What is the difference in the ways and thoughts of people who we call antisocial and the others? Simple. They do what they do even after they know that they have an option A. They ignore it, or lie to themselves, or justify their choice, and in the end give way to sinful conveniences and regrettable actions. Eventually, they get good at it, sometimes to even a point where they don’t ever hear option A anymore.

The difference, the only one that really matters is Option A, and this should also be taken in a good way (see I am not that much of a pessimist after all). The way this is good is obvious, it assures, that we all have a side that knows the Option A, and even after a person has walked for a long time with Option B, he can still be pulled back to listen to that side.

A-dios!

Advertisements

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.

Random Nerves [ran-duhm nurv-s]:

I don’t quite have a plethora of reasons as to why I chose the name Random Nerves, which is what people expect when they come across blog names any different than “ILoveMyPuppy.com” or “DoesGodExist.in”. The name came across my head just when I was thinking in my office’s cubicle about writing a blog. Well the reason I wished to blog, was quite obvious.

I like to think, and I do that a lot. That is one of the reasons I don’t usually get bored when I am alone and partially the reason why people think I am, well how to put it, weird. Well nothing to worry about though; from alien to mutant to even ‘the psychopath who will one day strike the world with his deviant weapons he built in his bedroom’ guy, I have got many nick names and thanks to all my friends who describe me in such pleasant ways, there has been never a single moment when I cease to think, I am not a normal human being after all.

Anyway, I wanted to write about what I keep thinking, but I could not come up with a name for the blog, as usually what I think about, is as random as the Chaos theory, though sadly enough, even that has a pattern. So, I came up with the word Random nerves. Random, because it’s, uh, well, Random, and nerves, because of a more and bore biological reason as to how whatever you think and memorize are actually stored as nerve endings in your brain. .

Anyway, I think I have done my part explaining the name, and now I guess I should just stop and from now on, start jotting down whatever comes to my mind over here.

Adios. Hasta Luego. (Meaning: I have started learning Spanish, and it is kind of cool to show off the language.)