Open Your Eyes

All this feels strange and untrue
And I won't waste a minute without you
My bones ache, my skin feels cold
And I'm getting so tired and so old

The anger swells in my guts
And I won't feel these slices and cuts
I want so much to open your eyes
Cos I need you to look into mine

Tell me that you'll open your eyes

Get up, get out, get away from these liars
Cos they don't get your soul or your fire
Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine
And we'll walk from this dark room for the last time

Every minute from this minute now
We can do what we like anywhere
I want so much to open your eyes
Cos I need you to look into mine

Tell me that you'll open your eyes

All this feels strange and untrue
And I won't waste a minute without you.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

It does feel strange and untrue. Numb, I'm moving through everyday life waiting for the equivalent of 20,000 tuns of emotional pressure to fall upon me. And the Gauls were worried about just the sky ...

And I've realised that I have enough of CGL boy rubbing off on me that I feel like a self sacrificial martyr for a whole 10 minutes after this happens. But then I stop, and I calm myself down, and realise that I have caused pain, as well as borne it. There is no reason to believe that I am the only one suffering. That'd be idiotic.

I don't have a clear, snappy one sentence 'why' as I used to. I used to be good at making that happen. Waiting until something crossed my self imposed lines, and then punishing it. But this is so different - in fact, beautifully so. It is, as some silly debater would say, a 'sophisticated' argument. That is, unlike a straight assertion of some fact or reasoning, it's an argument of balancing relative needs, and arriving at a compromise for dealing with them.

I'm doing this because I need to. No other reason. Why would there be?

I just need her to open her eyes. Just be aware. Have that long-awaited epiphany.

Love.

Dreams.

Things aren't quite as I wished they'd be. But they're still happy. Things still move, and we still move with them - ideas, hopes, dreams, and memories. All the things that one creates in the mind, but each are things which are so extremely tangible to us that many would give their lives for them.

I've discovered Haiku recently. It's given me the ability to write poetry without having to think. It's too easy. Just spill out three lines, the first and the third being the same length, with the middle line being shorter; and none should rhyme, or be connected. Or, so I was told. I've been writing such silly doggerel all over my notebooks, because it's far more interesting than Administrative Law, at the very least. And don't get me started on my Civil Procedure classes.

I've had the recent experience of being asked out on Orkut, and it has made me question some of my most fundamental beliefs about human beings. My profile clearly lists me as committed. Furthermore, the individual in question stated (on a public scrapbook) that the reason for her attraction to me involved me preventing her from making sandwiches when a group of us had been at her establishment, and the other greedy pigs had started demanding the aforementioned snacks as their right.

Now, why on EARTH would anyone even DREAM that such a thing would create any kind of bond between us? Yet, that is the stuff some dreams are made of. Flights of fancy, great overarching thoughts that we dream connect things that are otherwise entirely different and distant, relative to each other. The connections that we seek to make, we desire to make, are made in dreams. The things we are, and the things we hope to be, and the things we dread, and the things that our waking mind cannot conceive ...

That is the stuff that dreams are made of.

Anarchy.

Antiestablishment: opposed to or working against the existing power structure or mores, as of society or government.

I never thought of myself as an anarchist, or someone who was particularly anti-establishment. I was just, always, myself. Doing what I thought was right. Whenever I do the right thing, I often find myself blocked or barricaded by some authority which purports to have the job of doing that very thing I was planning to do - except that they aren't doing a good job, which is what causes me to try and do what they're supposed to be doing. And at this point, the authority does their utmost to get in the way. Sometimes, I manage to get what I want out of my efforts; other times, I cannot.

I'm currently in the midst of such a situation - I'm trying to help some people, and do something I'm good at simultaneously. But, as usual, the authority (in this case, an activity based committee), is seeing it fit to be about as helpful as mastadons trying to stomp the ants on your lunch at a picnic. They're repeatedly blocking us, without understanding what that means. We're trying to help them do what they're doing. Nitwits.

But I shall do what I want to do. It's not that difficult dealing with people obsessed with power. It's only difficult to deal with those people whose motives are transparent. For when they are, there's little that can be ostensibly done. But it's known but not admitted that the problem stems from ego issues and insecurities.

I'll play on those if I need to.
Manipulate them if I have to.
But I shall have what I want.
Because I can.

Chasing Cars

We'll do it all
Everything
On our own

We don't need
Anything
Or anyone

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

I don't quite know
How to say
How I feel

Those three words
Are said too much
They're not enough

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

Let's waste time
Chasing cars
Around our heads

I need your grace
To remind me
To find my own

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Forget what we're told
Before we get too old
Show me a garden that's bursting into life

All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see

I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all

If I lay here
If I just lay here
Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

-----------------------------------------------------------

This is Chasing Cars, by Snow Patrol. A song that gave me a strange kind of peace in the midst of much confusion and heart-ache. I've always felt strongly on the nature of the division between professional and personal. It seems to be rather awkward for everyone involved for someone to take someone's professional decision personally. Change things around, making them different and difficult for people to deal with. Just ... make life a little more complicated. Leave you caught in a cycle, where nearly everything seems to be as pointless ... as Chasing Cars. The origin of the song name comes from something that was said to Gary Lightbody (frontman for Snow Patrol) by his father, with respect to some girl Gary was after - you're like a dog chasing a car; you'll never catch it, and you wouldn't know what to do with it even if you did.

Well, I caught it. And I thought I'd understand what to do with it. I have continued to have the most amazing relationship and love that can be imagined. It seems incredibly right, and continues to this day - and it's been so long since it all began. I feel old, but that doesn't take away from all that value I give unto it. However, the problem of dealing with the insanity that is any relationship plays upon my mind quite often. I keep wondering whether it's all worth the pain and suffering any kind of dealing with people who are that close to you.

And then, there was last night. Just a serene feeling of being there. Nothing more, nothing less. There was also the dream. The feeling of soaring, of having found peace and understanding of self. Alone, and together.

All that I am, and all that I ever was, isn't within her perfect eyes. They are within my own vision. But those eyes are what all of me wants to be with, and that's all that matters.

Rage.

Idiocy. Bloody idiocy. Stupid acts of stupid, petty people, maligning me. And who I am. The things I stand for. For no better reason than the dirty, selfish, satisfaction that comes from watching a lie pass muster. I hate her, and all she's done. She does this because she's bitter. But she chose. She chose to leave, and I was decent enough to be friendly after. She abuses my trust, abuses everything she ever meant to me; she is the dirty filth of the universe, amalgamated into a human person.

I couldn't have done that which she says I did. I wasn't there. I didn't want to. Everyone who knows me well knows that this isn't something I'd do. Unfortunately, there are enough who do not know me well, but know of me. And they spread this vicious slander for their own purposes. One takes the higher road and ignores this shit. That is all one can do; that's all I can do. Yet, the desire to drain the lifeblood of those who attempt to destroy who you are and what you stand for is great. The desire to take their lives, to destroy them utterly, to reduce them and all they hold dear to motes of dust scattered amongst the winds. They know not my rage, that which I keep bottled inside. They know not what they do. I ask not for my father to forgive them, as did another forgiver in the past; I ask myself to see fit to ignore these base creatures. I know I want to destroy. But once again, I control. I rein in my passions, for I wish to better myself.

The world shall never hear of this again. Nor shall I speak of it. But if I am crossed just once more - ONCE - I know not what harm I shall bring to them or upon myself. But whatever harm that is - so be it. I cannot be expected to control everything. I pride myself upon my need to satisfy self and principle.

My bloodlust threatens to consume me. Why did this have to happen? What did I do wrong? There is no God, nor no heavenly being, nor no fate from some life past. Just idiotic, selfish minds, pursuing momentary pleasures.

Should I tell people of all the things that were said? All the things she sought? All the lies she told? All the words she used? All the passions she begged for? I keep my peace, and my counsel. This is where a man of honor suffers. I don't pretend to be one, but in this I know why they suffer. Because no one holds themselves to the standards of others. And they use the moral gaps to exploit the goodness of other.

Either she shall be punished, or she shall not. Fate shall decide. The future beckons me. Let her die in the past, rotting in the thoughts of what has come and gone.

I am a survivor. I have been through worse. This will make me harder. I'm looking forward to it.

The Life and Times of an Unfinished Melody

They get taken right out of your head. Like drops of condensation on the window. There a second; next, all one sees is a trail against the window, and the world outside looks just a little ... off where the trail is. Small, slippery, treacherous thoughts. The ones we can never be truly be rid of. The easy way out. The lonely path. The way to what might be peace, if you are a coward and scared of doing the right thing.

Sometimes I wish I was someone else. Something else. Just different enough to be in peace. Just happy enough to be real and live. Just for an instant. But I betray myself. Every second that I'm alive, I betray my own desires and wishes to just be. But if I were anything else, I would hate myself. This, I know. Sometimes, I marvel at the ability of my mind to change things about me easily. Unfortunately, the mind is the instigator of this sort of behaviour, and this sort of dilemna.

Talking Don't Come Easy, Now. The Words Get in The Way.

RANDOM FLIGHT WRITE -

Once again, I'm flying. Sitting inside a little pocket of oxygen and several Carbon based life-forms, I fly - a fragile existence; but, thankfully, a temporary one.

I cannot but help but think of the canine face of my near-most precious companion. And it bothers me that she can make me feel so incredibly guilty for going to do something that I have to. My parents - I miss them, but it's understood that I have to leave. They make it easy for me to go. Ria? No chance. Not a single one in hell. She ignores me until I leave. And it hurts. It truly does.

To someone who isn't a dog lover/pet owner, and even some who are, this might seem an odd kind of statement. All said and done, we ARE discussing a dog. A creature. As someone's being going to great lengths to point out, a non-human. Yet, I cannot but love her. And it hurts to leave her. It just does. Some part of it has to do with the way she makes no demand of me other than some attention, for which I'm adequately repaid. And when I say a little attention, I mean a large portion of time spent with a sock worn over one's hand, moving it about to present a target for her, so she can growl, bark, and mock bite it - all the while, her tail wagging so fast it could probably run half a city.

The point I'm trying to make here - there are simple joys, and simple pleasures in life. These come from simple creatures with simple wants, and desires. Yet, their simplicity does not make them any less valuable. In fact, it makes them more beautiful; for there is no deception. In some ways, they are more selfless and loving than any human being. My mother and father have expectations, and wants of me. My dog only wants a biscuit, now and then.

What does that say about human nature? I don't really want to get into it. That's something to be decided by those whose opinions matter. Because I've come to realise over numerous pointless debates online, that there isn't any such thing as a cogent, open argument that can be found. People just wish to be heard, and wish for their points of view to be accepted. I have nothing to gain from such an exercise.

Consider - I say that stray dogs be neutered and resettled outside the cities. The argument given against this? Rapid urbanization means that eventually the dogs will be back. To which, I say, keep them FAR from the cities. To which, again, the argument given is that the city will continue to expand.

Now, what does one say to this? It's retarded. The problem of shrinking natural spaces needs to be tackled, and is being so. People are working to find a means of co-existence. Taking a current problem, and assuming it into the framework of the other as a tool to predict the non-applicability of a suggested solution is ludicrous, at best. This is like saying that since we'll eventually urbanize the entire Earth, we might as well go and fill up the Canyons, dam the rivers, and destroy nature now. Or, at least, stop attempts to preserve these things.

I will no longer raise my voice. My voice, and the way I present it, is honed by an active participation in debates to be LOGICAL. Whether or not it always manages this is another story - but my goal in making any argument is to show that my conclusion and my stance are based on some rationale that I believe in. The attempt is to reduce the assumptions and beliefs as much as possible, such that the solution can be appreciated from the largest collection of starting points; that is, present a solution that logically deals with all the facets of the problem, such that they be solved to the maximum benefit of all parties involved.

For example, my idea of a solution to say, traffic congestion - better public transport. Why? For a bus, carrying 50 passengers, occupies much less space than, say, 12 cars, carrying four passengers each. If we improve public transport, people will no longer feel such a great need to use their personal vehicles, provided they travel in enough comfort in public transport. If the bus can get them there, save them fuel costs, and comfortably enough, they won't need to take the car out of the garage as often.

That's a logical solution. It's not a model - I'm not suggesting HOW to go about improving public transport. That's entirely separate. I'm just showing how logic can be made to endorse a belief. However, arguments are swiftly turning into "... in my personal opinion, I think we should do this. Why? ". What use is logic in the face of dogmatic belief and grandiose statements? It's easy to forget that all of these problems have been created in the same manner - an illogical consideration of an existing problem.

I no longer consent to my participation in that which is a futile exercise in self expression. That's it.

Of random hotness and funny comments.

The world has been playing tricks on me, of late. I watch myself, and reactions to me as I enter a room. I see how people react to me, and how I react to people. Patterns of behaviour and speech emerge that shock and amaze those that do not see them develop clearly. Reactions to bad jokes that are well told, and facial expressions that show wit.

I spent the last weekend in a city that has, since my departure from it 6 years ago, become a new place. Life seems to ebb and flow out of places that I would never have found myself visiting; yet, there, I walked in and felt like I belonged. The sea called out to me with its siren song, and I found myself entranced enough to spend hours watching an unchanging seascape. My mind was in immense amounts of peace.

But how does one describe this sensation? One cannot. The truth cannot be contained in the simple, horrible words we try to confine it to. So when I'm asked to describe an experience that is so intensely personal that parts of me do not understand what has happened, it's a little difficult to put your all into it. You stick to the small things, the shallow things, and hope that they go by without incident.

Oh, hell. Distracted, again. Getting back ...

I went to Bombay looking for memories. And I found them. I made some new ones, too. All in all, it was a satisfying experience. I'm beginning to realise that this is the first time that I've WON something in college. Come first. Not second, not also ran, but first. But these things never mattered to me ... It just seemed worth a mention.

What I did NOT go to Bombay for was adulation. Or generally freaky looks from the female gender. I've been to many extra curriculars, and found that there is usually a male nucleus to female drooling at such events. I've always watched, made disparaging comments about the nature of social relationships, and one night stands (if the drooling was getting excessive and I found myself avoiding puddles).

In Bombay, it took me a while to realise that I was becoming the guy I never wanted to be. I was cracking funny jokes and being myself, and gradually I found people clustering around me. I'd orchestrate conversation. Talk to the people who were interesting, and make them talk to other people. I felt a little like and arranger of music.

I couldn't understand this behaviour, and it makes me question myself and my beliefs about my own nature. I enjoyed it, but I didn't want to. And I despised it, hated it, and all that while I didn't want to do any of those things, either. But I did not behave oddly. I was at ease. I said things and acted like I do when I am in not so familiar company. I treated people like shit, and they came for more. I insulted them with a smile, and they laughed. I questioned their intellect, and they continued nodding at me in faked understanding, proving my point.

I'm growing increasingly paranoid about how I might become someone who uses people. Manipulates them. And somewhere, even though I can find no real grounds for this sort of fear, I do not wish to lose what I loosely consider my own humanity.

Who's your Daddy? :-D

Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

Secrets.
We keep these thoughts hidden from all else. Little bits of flotsam upon the placid ocean of our thoughts. Little messages in bottles that tell you where you are, where you stand, and what you really want out of a situation.

How do we really know who we are until we move into those deep dark depths inside of us? Do we realise when unconsciously we measure ourselves to the stated standards of someone who, by all counts, shouldn't matter to you?

Does the sunlight shine into the depths of you, to reveal all the things left behind - locked doors that hide memories, thoughts and desires, never to be expressed?

Hush, child - think not of these things. Live life. Move on, in ignorance.

Building Bridges

The gap into ruin - something to dread - has been ventured across. Cautiously, plaintively, a well of happiness inside of me begins to brim over. I feel relief, but in small amounts only; there is still the dread that the bad times will return. In this manner, I attempt to continue with life, as if nothing has happened - nothing has gone wrong, and life gives me new hope.

The dread remains a shadow. Dreams are steeped in dark shades of gray, as I try and come to terms with this new kind of life I have to lead. I dream on, waiting for the day that the dreams shall change to a reality that cannot be otherwise understood. To experience the feeling of being, and of being with someone. I live on in hope, and in love.

Withdrawal

Pulling away, like the tides of the ocean;
Yet, never to return to those shores.
Resigned to the exit that I choose to make;
I've never felt quite this way before.

Exhaustion fills all parts of me with pain;
I have no inclination to try and be.
It seems like an indelible dirty stain;
My determination I can no longer see.

I feel my skin crawl in the presence that once
Filled me with with both hope and joy;
I feel the anger and hurt that accompanies
How my only will to live is destroyed.

Oh, Dearie Me.

Cum catapultae proscriptae erunt tum soli proscripti catapultas habebunt.

Which means that if catapults are outlawed, only outlaws will have catapults. Interesting thing to note, is it not? That which you to deny to someone, you allow someone else to have. A someone else you do not have control over, a someone else who does not listen to you.

We deny ourselves things each and every day. We deny ourselves happiness. Experiences. Experimentation. Each and every day. Every instant. Is that fair? Should we allow others to have all of that which we do not have? Sure, there are parents, annoying teachers, self righteous friends, and lady preachers (incidentally, I liked that rhyme); I see roommates spending quality time with lady Mary Jane; I see people spending money and lying to parents to get back in the game. I see people being weak and going for admiration; I miss the strong people and the non-adulation.

I don't like the way the human race seems to be growing. I can't say I agree with the way people are taking the easy way out. I don't like the way that people are giving up thinking for pleasure. I don't like the fact that beauty is trumping brains.

I think the human race is evolving out of intelligence. I'm going to miss my sanctuary.

The Watcher

Ancient eyes watch without interest,
Gazing - sight watching over all beings.
Dark shadows move through the space,
Seeking to cover everything.
Small recollections form flashes of light,
That burn synapses and harm true sight.

-------------------------------------------------

Two small shadows seek to hide,
Seek company within each other.
Find a small enclosed space,
And erupt in unearthly rapture.

They then flee from the guardians of the light,
Escaping from authority they do not accept.
Try to escape once more into the deep dark night,
To find the route that no other suspects.

Vituperative, Vindictive and Killing -
All that is free.
And precious.
The rapture hangs, momentarily, in the air;
But soon, like all things, it must disappear.

It lives, now, only in their myriad thoughts,
Late at night, or in the early morn;
The scientist proclaimed that thought was not conserved;
Yet, all deep thinkers remember that they were born.
So, until such time it can be created again,
Let the shadows reach out for hope, then.

So much for my Happy Ending(s)?

I just love this picture. Taken from the poster of the movie of the same name as the words printed on that oh-so-small towel, I must say I'd watch the movie simply because of the poster. I like the whole joke, and the byline - "Everybody wants one". Sheer genius, I say. Good use of lighting make this poster seem less vulgar and more artistic, somehow. It takes away from the crudeness of it all, to some extent.

I'm not quite sure why I'm rhapsodizing about this picture. I'm sure it happens to people sometimes. Something that makes them feel like they ought to give it all away, pack up, give the butler his notice, and walk out the door to spend the rest of his life doing - NOTHING.

Sigh. I want to relax. Come home. Chill out. Be myself. I so desire to be myself. Sigh...

The past hits back!

Bleargh.

Once again, I find myself at the threshold of an examination I do not wish to give. A vicious cycle. You give one set, only to go forth to the next. True, once my journey in academia is over there shalt be no more exams; but in that time, I'll be tested on everything I do. Not exactly confidence inspiring, I say.

Further, I was shocked to realise how an utterly disgusting and monotonous exercise it is to go into the bloody details. Frankly, m'dear, nobody gives a damn. Sure, no one gives a damn about me, either. But somewhere, when few really care about the farce that is history, someone should come along and tell that annoying empress that she has no clothes on. Of course, if that was really to happen, we'd find ourselves looking at cobwebs, I'm sure. Bleh.

Why exactly do I run into the strange, annoying and idiotic people in life? Where are those 'like minded people' college is supposed to be full off? 'Tis all a bloody joke.

Emptiness and three year old retards.

I cannot understand the stupidity of women who believe themselves to be completely reasonable. Somewhere, her behaviour is unforgivable. Not to mention, excuses about other reasons for being upset make her that much more so. I can't believe she can't deal with things like these without turning into a complete dolt. Bleh. Women.

One would think drama is something not always necessary. Yet, they make it seem like a pre-requisite to breathing. The whole idea of being the way they are stems from their stereotypical desire to make an impact. I believe somewhere that the whole patriarchy deal has left women scarred psychologically for eternity. Now, it seems to be embedded in their character - since they tend to be physically weaker in some ways, they shall attempt to make it up by playing upon the heartstrings of the men. Of course, the men are to blame for being gullible enough...

Which leaves me with the conclusion that I'm a gullible idiot.

Sigh. I hate it when logic backfires.