Ripples in the sand...

There is something that is distorting my mental fabric. What it is, I am unable to point out. There is absolutely no reason for me to feel disappointed or sad or even perplexed. It is one in the morning, I woke up a whole 19 hours back. There is not a cell in my body that is feeling drowsy. There is a state where the adrenalin has almost worn off but not quite, I feel like that 24 hours a day. The worst part is I cannot understand what spikes the high, nothing significant happened today. My whole life I have slept like a log, eight hours a day was minimum even during the helLish days. Insomnia is not normal, not to me.... it is a state I could never imagine myself in. Am a little scared, I must admit.

I wrote exams for six hours today. I truly feel like the learning curve is also bell shaped. I reached the peak of it at the end of term 3. All that needs to be learnt now is out there, it may sound pompous but helL has nothing more to offer me academically. There are however a few things I would like back. They are too far gone, am afraid.

Uncertainity has a little bit of magic about it. The feel of the chase is truly awesome.Yes, this is one of my biggest steps yet. I want my Z4, and I want it fast.

The only thing that keeps me in my senses are occasional chats with MY 'insane dose of sanity'. Honestly, I would trade the Z4 and the chase for you. What use is a two seater if the seat beside me is empty?

Three days to go. Yes, I still countdown.

Some nice stuff..

Some simply awesome stuff I have heard in the past few days:

"Every time I open my cupboard.... I am happy"

-Sanju

I guess it is just something you say in the middle of a random conversation.

No she was not referring to the loads of clothes/shoes/ear-rings/anklets/hair bands/lotions/whatever else girls own. She was referring to the simple slabs of wood she helped mould into a container for the little things that bring her so much joy. It set me thinking for a long time about the differences that are such a part of our make up.

"Praveen darling.!!
u r an amazing friend, classmate, entrepreneur and even almost decent looking.
but designing.. little more inspiration praveen..
rmbr our cards.. and the posters.. look at this with a neutral eye..
machan.. that A doesnt look great.. the flames are not eye catching..
and in this version the halo is barely visible..
dude.. its our logo man..

hmm.. :) but i shld say job well done.. "

-Shiva

My feedback after slogging for 12 hours on a software I would not touch with a ten foot pole. The best way I have been told......'YOU SUCK'. Shiva, that was one awesome mail :)

To save money on our venture, I decided to try my hand at photoshop. The software used by the 'creative' ones. A fifteen minute crash course on the internet got me started. I wanted to be 'The designer'; after all, how tough could it be?

"Dai it looks like an 'A' film logo da!!!"

-Ragavan

I QUIT.

The last few days have been pretty crazy. Lets just say I am stepping into my own now.

How and Why I became a writer...

I like the way the term ‘Carbon Footprint’ has been coined. It strikes a chord when you hear it. I am always reminded of my foot’s impression in soot, and therefore turn the lights off.

An entire vertical is dedicated to the quantification of recognition. Common man’s parlance calls it ‘marketing’. It is the process of fusing nerves in the brain into spotting, and ingesting their produce. Sans recognition, marketing faces the catastrophe of commoditization.

Society is a collection of individuals, and the amalgamation is brought about by the mechanism which recognizes; and justly rewards the potential of each. To grow as a species therefore, special recognition needs to be awarded to those who make the hard choices. I believe Copernicus, and Galileo spurned the church as they sub consciously believed that their work would be ‘recognised’ someday. A trip to any historical monument would show inscriptions of names, and relationships.

Social security numbers, surnames, degrees, schools are all tags used to uniquely identify the utility of an individual. It is indeed fascinating to map the weights given to each by the agencies of perception. The human form is therefore decomposed into a small blue book of 32 pages that facilitates transportation. The Iron Cross, a 63 mm object of iron with traces of gold inspires young men to the inhuman trenches by materializing recognition. Human need for recognition thus extends beyond the grave.

I am human.