ofthingsiknowandnot

December 21

2009-11-09T16:07:00.000-08:00

All the written days one never wrote,

Never erased, nor cherished,

Must one read?

And weep too?!

Picking up threads...

2009-09-02T08:58:00.000-07:00

so my girlfriend's gone out to dinner.. i have come after a back breaking as well as spirit breaking one and a half hour of badminton.. (still trying to find that elusive shot called backhand! :( )

dinner at the mess was bad and so am crashing at my girl's place and cooking maggi for myself..

since i was feeling a little lonely.. i thought i should give this well ignored blog a small breather.. come see it for once!

there are so many things funny about this semester.. it is so much like the first.. so many times i get this sense of a broad deja vu.. the fact that i am feeling a little distanced from my friends is one of those things that are repeating themselves.. (@ anushka, i hope you are reading this and sorry for not replying to that mail!) and that can't be good.. at least not when they call up and tell me that i am the classic case of "ladki mili to dost ko bhool gaya!" i guess much like my parents, even my friends don't just understand that i am incorrigible, i like being lonely and well to admit the truth a bad friend.. i just hope they won't tell me that too.

last night i was reading this book called the mathematician's mind.. quite good.. not really profound as i had expected something with that title to be.. but quite refreshing.. brought me closer once again to that serene feeling of knowing mathematics (stop raising those eyebrows.. i don't care if you guys think i am a nerd!!!). so even though you do so much mathematics in economics.. it is just not the same.. and may be other mathematicians doing economics will understand what i am saying.. as long as maths is not the end in itself.. it will never satisfy a mathematician.. not that i do not enjoy economics.. rather i do a lot.. it is a brilliant route to reconcile the mathematician's creativity with the real world.. i have wondered many a times.. of what i would want to do my phd in.. well anyway.. (@ aditya: dude, stop worrying that you have lost your sheen as a mathematician.. i am sure when you learn about the twentieth century mathematicians you will learn that Cambridge PhDs are not the only ones that count.. i am sure you are gonna do more than you think you are capable of! Cheers!)

also, deepali has been writing amazing poetry in the last few days! i think i understand where all of that is coming from! i am envious of you girl! really envious. i wanted to tell you that i feel really happy for the way things you have turned things around after the last one year and also that i apologize for being so useless.. well i know i have been.. but i think.. or at least i would like to think that i was absent from the scene for a purpose hoping that it will help you.. wish that you will understand.. but an unconditional apology holds.

anyway..

been missing anu really.. i hope he will stumble upon this page somehow and read this.. i don't know what is wrong with me.. why i am like this.. when i am like this. i miss so many people.. but i will never call them up and tell them that.. (and that goes for anuj and vicky too!) may be some one who reads this can help explain my behavior to me in this regard! may be it is the same with this blog too.. so many times i thought of writing up something but did not.. may be i am just one of those people who are bad at following things through.. :D now am i?

anyway.. well there is so much on my mind.. also that the maggi is ready and it will get cold if i don't wrap this one up soon.. i mean in the last one year.. i have become so competitive.. obviously in the only way that i have always been.. i.e. pitting myself against me.. it is almost like i am in this ravenous phase of self mutilation and reconstruction.. (almost like i physically prove the Banach-Tarski paradox) (Bah! SHOW OFF! :D )
I guess somewhere that it is guilt.. i think i want to make up for the two lost years.. i am sure adi knows what i mean.. i am sure he wants the same!

anyway.. there is so much to write.. and the maggi is getting cold.

so Cheers!
So long!!

Coming Away!

2009-08-23T01:37:00.000-07:00

Been a long time, since
I walked alone.

A failed attempt..

2009-06-28T10:29:00.000-07:00

Was in mood to write poetry.. but after like half an hour or so (enough time to lose the inspiration that started it in the first place).. gave up with this half baked piece.. even though I am not going to publish it on PoemHunter.. I thought why not put it on the blog! so here it goes.

----------

Come Love,

Let’s take a walk

To my home.

Let me in my city,

Show you the

Nightly whores

I visit

Often

When I miss you.

Show you the

Shroud-less demons

I feast with

While they devour

Juicy shards

Of my soul.

The temple

Where gilded

Are the skulls

Of God

And Myself.

Dead deities.

You ask my love,

Trembling

Why must I dwell here -

This unseemly planet?

But you know the answer well.

As well as I.

It is harbored in the little ports

The cracks of your skin

Straining to ooze out.

In the color of your palate

When you laugh

Like soot of burnt age.

Freedom -

Morbid,

Immoral,

Void.

Unlimited

And passionless.

On the road..

2009-06-20T01:48:00.000-07:00

Note: This is my first attempt at 55 fiction. The idea seems interesting. I have taken a slight liberty with the format and eliminated the suspense bit to the story since I was not in the mood to write suspense. The language is explicit and therefore reader discretion is advised. I invite all to comment on what they think sex was used for in this story and if it had the intended effect at all. Thanks for reading this.

----------

She wanted to run away. Riding him.

He could not. The past was stuck to his shoes like caked grime.

There was no holding hands.

He would put them in his pockets and masturbate.

She wanted him to masturbate her instead.

Open windows, locked gates, left them behind.

They stood.

Often fucked.. never reaching. Anywhere!

My futile brooding self

2009-06-17T10:54:00.000-07:00

It has been a few days now.. I have been thinking about it.

I am bored of wearing my shirt without a vest. Bored of the smell of my sweat too. I yearn to stink as that man who stood next to me in the bus in the morning. Look at people feel nauseated standing near me. Feel unwanted.

I hate of having to brush my hair. All those old men in my office with bald pates... I want to enter one of those bald brains and part my hair from as low as my ear and feel embarrassed when a young man swaggers about reveling hairily.

Why have I never wanted to steal, rape or murder? What about being lecherous? That should be fun!

It has been so long.. all my life and literally.. that all I have been is me.

I log into my machine and listen to the same songs that I like. Hard Rock has never captured me. I would have loved it I think.

No poetry! Or art! I don't even understand them anyway. And I have grown weary of pretending that I do.

Make me that urban beggar who drinks his nights away in the shadows of those diseased breasts and cusses in happiness and talks only of his village and his dead daughter. Dead of hunger. Still gnawing at her sodden death.

Burn my tongue, should I? And never taste again? Or would it be more involving to poke out my own eyes just to see not seeing. Oh how brilliant is this world and yet how so the same as the night before the night it was made. And how it seems that I have always lived here. Though I have lived more in a tiny pink squiggly blob I carry with me everywhere. If I live in it, and it lives in me, then where does the world live? And do I live in the world at all?

That night I went to the highest place here. Or so they told me it was. It was brilliant. I went and sat with them just to have something to think that I had not thought before. To loan a slice of their lives, however unfit for my consumption.

There must be some joy in annihilation. To desert, nay! detest oneself, just so you could transform to something even more detested.

And but there in lies the paradox. There is no alienating myself. No deserting, detesting, alienating or even as little as observing oneself for in each act there is a precursor. Self. The self that wants and feels and relishes.

The only one that knows the secret. The biggest of them. The one that feeds off it till the doomed knowledge that there is nothing before and nothing beyond. That God is a Joke. He is Superman. Like my friends' brother told her when she was little.

And they are one. It is all the same. It is all one. This is all my world is and this is all I am doomed to be. Eternally. Inescapably.

My futile brooding self.

The Obfuscator

2009-06-15T00:26:00.000-07:00

It was becoming increasingly harder to write every new word.

In the last three hours the white screen had been populated by patterns of ant like figures in various dancing poses. For the same number of times a blinking demon had eaten up all those dancers.

It seemed to him that the cursor must have been growing in size now, flashing with a frenzied fury, laughing now in its own mad dance like a hundred mouthed tribal. The merry dancers were scared off now, few and fewer were coming on to the screen. And yet the screen was growing black.

It was not like that strange salt and pepper newspaper mosaic. That was beautiful. And reassuring. Like one's invention is. At least to a child. For then he was a child.

----------

He would keep spying the newspaper till his father was done with it and not around. To him - just like to the elders - the old ones would not do. They had already served their purpose.
His favorites were the pages with a lot of text. A lot of text into which were embedded small brightly colored pictures.

"It is 'very' important", he would explain to himself, "that the pictures be small preferably the size of large stamps." Only then could one see the bright small colonies like a smattering of variously colored sea-shells on a salt and pepper shore.

It was obviously difficult to find such pages. invariably the pages with a lot of text were also the ones with a lot of pictures because they were the ones that contained the news. The ones with pictures were primarily the ones for advertisements. "Damn," he would curse "these bloody fools don't even understand what an obfuscator needs in his newspaper."

Painstakingly he would find out the page that worked best. Some days he would decide theoretically on the winner, on others he would just quickly obfuscate all of them and choose the best.

The act was simple, you held the newspaper close to your face and unfocussed your eyes. "It is a technique you have to develop with utmost care and through consistent practice," he would talk to himself addressing the "child" who knew not much.

Then one day he graduated to books. In his father's library he sat obfuscating page after page of innumerable books. While the father was working, his summer days observed this hours-long ritual in the library.

Books were an instant hit with him. They were dry, yes. There were hardly any colored pictures on the inside pages except for those biology ones and some others.

They looked like a lonely seashore. But there was a lot of potential.

Books did not have to have big pictures or those icky advertisements. One could choose the pictures, the size, the visual texture. What with so many pages to a book, one could flip the pages while obfuscating them and voila! a movie.

He tried to do it to a biology book that he particularly liked. It had to be amongst the most beautiful things the world possessed.

Sure they did not publish such books and made such movies as of now. But he could become a writer too. He had read a lot of them and felt he could do it. He would write books. Ones that were fit for obfuscation and then he could teach others.

The idea was immense. His pleasure orgasmic.
The reality was dense. The defeat paralytic.

----------

His books did not publish. They were "frivolous," "amateurish," "ill-conceived and badly written." Last evening an editor had explained to him, "We are not exactly publishing fucking comic books. Pictures!"

----------

The machine was now stinking. His vomit on the keyboard had dried into little granules gluing it to his fingers. He was staring at that little seed of half-digested rice for long idly wondering if it could now grow into anything.

He turned the machine off. Brushed his hair back soiling them with vomit. In the cupboard sat
the manuscript of his last book. Just yesterday he had crayoned into the pockets he had kept for the pictures.

He fingered the stacked leaves. Was it the texture made him feel hungry?

Leaning back he brought the pad close and thumbed to the first typed page but then changed his mind.

His eyes retruned to that grain of rice.

It almost took him the effort of ripping his skin off the chair to stand up. To pluck the grain off the screen felt harder. He had to employ the whole length of his consciousness to flex his fingers and peck at it.

----------

Later that evening he sowed that seed in the backyard. Just to see if it would grow. Just something to do with his time.

An Ode

2009-06-10T09:39:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to put this out to the world.. to women in general and to the Woman! :)

She's a yellow pair of running shoes
A holey pair of jeans
She looks great in cheap sunglasses
She looks great in anything
She's I want a piece of chocolate
Take me to a movie
She's I can't find a thing to wear
Now and then she's moody

She's a Saturn with a sunroof
With her brown hair a-blowing
She's a soft place to land
And a good feeling knowing
She's a warm conversation
That I wouldn't miss for nothing
She's a fighter when she's mad
And she's a lover when she's loving

And she's everything I ever wanted
And everything I need
I talk about her, I go on and on and on
'Cause she's everything to me

She's a Saturday out on the town
And a church girl on Sunday
She's a cross around her neck
And a cuss word 'cause its Monday
She's a bubble bath and candles
Baby come and kiss me
She's a one glass of wine
And she's feeling kinda tipsy

She's the giver I wish I could be
And the stealer of the covers
She's a picture in my wallet
And my unborn children's mother
She's the hand that I'm holding
When I'm on my knees and praying
She's the answer to my prayer
And she's the song that I'm playing

She's the voice I love to hear
Someday when I'm ninety
She's that wooden rocking chair
I want rocking right beside me
Everyday that passes
I only love her more
Yeah, she's the one
That I'd lay down my own life for

And she's everything I ever wanted
And everything I need
She's everything to me
Yeah she's everything to me

Everything I ever wanted
And everything I need
She's everything to me.

"She's Everything - Brad Paisley"

Check out the video here.

asleep and thinking!

2009-06-06T15:09:00.000-07:00

so i am like going to post this just because i feel like whiling away some time right now.. even though i have only slept about 4 hours in the last 48 hours and my eyes are telling me that i must let them drop now.. and i also remember vicky telling me that going sleepless would reduce my life span.. but frankly i am just not in the mood to sleep and to capitalize my I's for that matter.

i was just talking to anuhska. and just now i decided to give her a nick name. after all my other friends have some nick name or the else why must not she. so i shall call her ashi. not anu because i already have one male and one female anu to confuse me. also because ashi seems to fit in with her.

so we talked about a lot of things.. about my language on the new blog, my new found love for my old homeland - dilli meri jaan - and about the kind of girls that guys most often like, her theory is serious men like those who they can call "mera bachha." do i disagree? not for myself. :)

so about my language.. she told me that my language did not read that smooth. one of her friends who has also read my blog (guys leave some comments just so i know i am being read) said that i was fast on my feet and spent less time that a point deserved before rushing on to the next.. well true.. both of them. and it is not like i do not know it myself.

there are times when in life one would choose to do different things.. better ones.. and he would not do them the best. but i am sure it always helps to acknowledge it, accept and get back to the repair work. sarcasm is my first language. it has also always been my first nature. i have lost count of the number of times i have been labelled as an arrogant snob when one of the most despised vices in my list is snobbishness. it is late into the night.. and quite late into the movie that i realize that that cocky actor in "it happened one night" is not really the real life hero. and that friendly neighborhood hero peter parker is.

so people have been telling me that i seem to be changing my skin lately just as much as i seem to be changing my language. does it feel good to be working on towards something better.. ha! not really to be honest. it feels ludicrous to believe that one would have to start all over to be that good at it again. one also wants to feel bad about being misunderstood but by now i know more than to fall into that trap again.

even though i would not talk about my girl here for the sake of her privacy i would talk about my other now oft-missed darling dilli.. i miss my home.. i miss the metro.. i miss the momos, 8 steaming momos for 20 bucks in kamla nagar were the best i have ever had. i have eaten at berco's too and i don't think they nearly match up. i also miss buying more khaadi at jawahar khaadi bhandar dilli - 6.

how much do i love dilli? not much really! and that is the truth. it is the one place i have the most things to hate about. and still i miss her the most. i hate it the most.. why because i know it the most! come to think of it, it is the only place i really know. even today when i think of the best buses or the mumbai autowallahs i do not think how good they are but how much better than in delhi. i do not look at mumbaikars as such plain people but not as glamorous as the delhi snobs. it is funny how all my life i hated the snob dilli culture and now i compare others to it. why because i am one of them. i may not be the dilli cool dude.. but i know them and i have seen them.. those are the people i identify with even if through rejection and they are who i measure everything against.. it is not that i love or miss dilli so much to make me want to run back to the place.. but yes it does make me nostalgic enough to want to go back to my roots.. the roots of my likes and dislikes.. the root of the culture that made me what i am by being verily rejected, accepted or ignored in its various colors.. the face that i measure every face against.. the father i would measure all my prospective grooms against!

i might be blabbering right now in my sleep but for one thing i know right i am under no responsibility.. i am not making an argument.. answering no question.. this is as smooth as i will ever get with my language. i wish it would satisfy some.. more so i wish it would satisfy me tomorrow when i am well slept and fed and come back to see the work of my not so fast groggy head..

till then to the bed.. alone.. with eli though!

Vantage Point

2009-06-01T00:34:00.000-07:00

There are times one knows not the side of the fence one ought to sit on.

One of my friends recently posted a letter to the Indian male. All have heard the good ol’ adage, “all men are assholes.” The post is not about the same. Then why bring it up? Read it here and may be you will understand.

In all fairness it has been provided with the standard politico-moral exceptions. And still one would be hard put - especially if a guy - to ignore the violent undercurrent of the thought there (my girl felt the author was going to stab the next guy she met. I hope my girl would not stab me for publishing this given the author is a common friend!).I accused her of knee-jerk tone. She batted that well. How? It was indeed my comment which was knee-jerk. Her post was calculated to perfection. Rather in retrospection I can not but marvel at so much anger crafted so well in words that one can not attack back.

Cowering under a barrage of “pervert” and “wolves” flying all over the place (read both the letter and the comments to it) in my direction I was handed out an umbrella of the righteous belief that the post is not about me. As I ran for my life out into the no-man’s (no-sex’s?) land my hand instinctively reached for my loins. Honestly! I felt guilty for my libido.

So I write now. Not as a reply to her unassailable commentary but only as an exercise at trying to feel comfortable again with my “masculinity” so to say. The first draft I wrote was a scathing assault (knee-jerk?) which thankfully I refrained from publishing. What follows is more than “double-toned” with the intention of retaining the female readership which is at present the only readership I have managed to garner what with all my asshole guy friends too busy with their wolf-ish activities.

Following is the outline of things I would like to talk about in this series of posts:

- In a Court of Natural Law.

- The Flesh Colored Revolution.

- Saala system hi kharaab hai

- In a Court of Natural Law:

The day of revelation when I finally understood that masturbation was “perfectly natural & healthy” I was more pissed off than ecstatic.

More than 4 years of sheer torture and psychological mutilation suffered! The fact that I was just trying to be a good child was of no consolation. The fact that I was duped by my own “Civilization” and it’s code of conduct was more than I was prepared to take lying down.

Over the years, I have learnt to appreciate the fact that human beings are an egotistic race. The only Civilization.

In the supreme effort of lunging away into a technological make believe the race has perhaps become completely oblivious to the natural law that presides over us. Human race has erected for itself edicts of sexual virtue that are divorced from his natural capabilities to the extent of it being possible to uphold them only in the case of statistical outliers. Perhaps that explains why perfectly virtuous men (and women!) are that rare in the real world.

Homosexuality, Polygamy, Incest has all been documented in the animal world as “natural” phenomenon and we are all still harping on about the “un-natural” sins/vices that we must burn in hell/be hanged for. Read here (The list of references is unbelievable!).

The purpose of this citation was to effect firstly an appreciation of how less we understand the natural world we live in and secondly to bring into sharp relief some of the natural reasons why men don’t behave the way women want them to and why they should be “cut some slack” at times (these do not include rapes or sexual harassment though I won’t even blankly incriminate them - there is growing research about possibility of biological abormalities in sexual deviants).

However allow me to bring to your notice a triple-whammy:

a) Ooh baby… I am Stacked! – It is a well established fact that testosterone is the hormone that induces libido in both the sexes and that the testicles are a testosterone pumping machine that the women lack. It is also researched that since hitting puberty men face a whopping flood of testosterone in their bodies. At the age that I am (21) men I have as much as upto 20 times the testosterone found in a woman. Assuming the effect of testosterone levels is only linear on the libido it implies twenty times the “wolf-ish-ness” too. God forbid the effect is quadratic (400 times!) or of an even higher order.

b) Men! Insensitive?! – Research is showing growing evidence that the brain regions called Amygdala (larger in men – the effects of which are being researched as of now) and Hypothalamus are more receptive to sexual stimuli in men than in women. Check here and here.

If further research corroborates these findings it should be beyond doubt that indeed men have a “filthy mindset.” This must vindicate the women folk I think; only it seems to be hardwired into the men!

c) Why do women always get the remote? – Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing the PreFrontal Cortex (nickname:PFC), a.k.a. the Stop button.

“This brain region has been implicated in planning complex cognitive behaviors, personality expression, decision making and moderating correct social behavior. The basic activity of this brain region is considered to be orchestration of thoughts and actions in accordance with internal goals.

The most typical psychological term for functions carried out by the pre-frontal cortex area is executive function. Executive function relates to abilities to differentiate among conflicting thoughts, determine good and bad, better and best, same and different, future consequences of current activities, working toward a defined goal, prediction of outcomes, expectation based on actions, and social "control" (the ability to suppress urges that, if not suppressed, could lead to socially-unacceptable outcomes).” Source.

“... according to Dr. Amen, it is a scientifically proven fact that women have many more neural connectors between their limbic brain (my note: limbic part also contains the sexual centers listed above) and the prefrontal cortex than men do.” Source. Dr.Amen?

Catch my drift?! Not only my “fireworks” have more gunpowder, it also burns harder and there isn’t a safety pin either. Now talk about the fairness of me “exploding” all the time.

Now if all this is indeed true I have the following observations to make:

a) If men are labeled “insensitive” for not being supportive of women during their emotional (hormonal) imbalance in the menstrual period that assails them for 4 days a month about half of their life, what should one call women who are never supportive or understanding of a man’s sexual urge throughout his life.

b) A man should never even think of insisting too hard on his wife/girlfriend to have sex. It would be discriminating and debilitating if women were required to have sex any time the man wants. Now although I completely agree to that reasoning I also know that to each discrimination there is counter-discrimination too. What when a man who can not bring himself to commit adultery, does not get marital sex and is too ashamed to masturbate forces himself on his wife? Where is that line between discrimination and counter-discrimination? More importantly who draws it?

c) What of the fact that a large number of men (I would like to think majority but clearly there are no statistics) everywhere in the world tame their passions for the sake of family life, to rear good progeny, to cohabit in a fulfilling marriage that is never discounted when women invent adjectives like “asshole,” “pervert,” “wolves,” and freely paint them all over their faces for the men to see.

And even if it is not all or anything true! I still do not think that woman have any solid ground in telling us that we are like “mad-dogs-chasing-cars-we-can-not-ride” or “going-wherever-the-cock-takes.” They accuse us consistently of an “abnormally high libido.” The real question is what is the standard of reference that they have? There is no standard and there will never be one. If ever a girl tells me that men are abnormally sexual I can tell her that women are abnormally asexual. I can answer that I am running around because I am not “getting enough action” from her. Well from my vantage point, if I am nobody to tell a woman to gear up for the action she is nobody to castrate me either.”

Now in the above paragraph there are two things that I would like the reader to notice. One that by the end of the discussion I have neatly polarized men and women into two warring factions by alienating them from their common identity as a socio-biological unit. Two I have only used “I can” answer this or that, not that “I will.” To my “limited scope of perception” therein lay both the problem and the solution.

Historically the men won the battle of the sexes (believe me I am none the happier for it). Euphoric victors, they forgot that absolute power corrupts absolutely. It does not take long to abuse freedom into free will. The above mentioned process of polarization that the men started seems to be coming a full circle now with the advent of feminism and more importantly the revolutionary neo-feminism. (I don’t know how many would be surprised after reading this post that I have been labeled a feminist myself and I do not resist the classification). The women, not all, but certainly a sizeable proportion are committing the same mistake that men started with – polarizing the sexes and alienating themselves from the other half. Enjoying their newfound freedom to the extent of trying to replicate the free will that men have gotten used to. But too much free will never came for free. And the price is too heavy to pay.

All I ask you is this, next time you call your boyfriend or husband or a stranger a sex fiend or things like these, think twice. What is it that drives you to profile him as that? What are his constraints? And is your perception of what he is polluted by your perception of what you are?

For a romantic like myself I would rather read Neruda to my girl and continue this blog than indulge in slander. Only because it is too hard to be in the right all the time!

Disclaimer: Contrary to my original wish I have shown considerable restraint in editing this post to make it suitable to all tastes. If at all this offends you, please let me know so we can talk it out. I do not at all mind hate mail (at a level of perversion, I enjoy them ;) ) but I would rather that one would think over what I took almost two days to research and write than reject it outright due to the tone of it.

You seem to be confused!

2009-05-23T01:28:00.000-07:00

I have always heard that it is hard when you start working! Well it seems that they are right.

One of the most important things that you need to learn when you start working is - it is not your work, really.

It has to be the principle if you want to survive the excruciating pain of external factors disrupting the way you do or want to do - "your work."

That however is not to mean that you stop feeling any sort of affinity to your work, that is just the anti-thesis of what the solution to the problem is since you want to be able to do your work, only painless-ly (if that is a word) and the solution is obviously not to shirk from it.

What you really need to do is to understand that a part of the work is your work, but that part is going to interact with other parts that would be done with other people.

And that is where the whole problem lies. There would always be other people meddling with your work, like it or not. Other people controlling the way you work, controlling what you need to do your work, trying to teach you how to do your work and those too who would want to learn from you about how you do your work.

And believe me - each one of them is a nuisance. Especially if you have only the slightest notion - tempting as it is - that you know your work more than they do!

After coming to this place and having wasted two of my days with a person who was not even in the project (who btw just told me today that I seem to be confused about what I need to do - and thereby instigated this post) that I am supposed to review and a translator who is supposed to help me talk with kannada people but is really too conscious of me being a city boy and can not understand my English and does not know Hindi - my translator! - I do not know whether I should fret or fume about the vagaries of the working life or should I just smile at it and accept it as a lesson. Now the reality is that I have been alternating between both in the past half an hour, the real deal is which one should I persist in.

In other terms, the fretting and fuming is really going to be nothing else but deadweight loss because it will not alter the constraints - at least not for the better, you could however end up alienating your fellow workers and get even less help in things that you need them for later - only you would reach the same solution after having burnt more blood over it.

The solution - well, do what you are gonna do. If others don't let you, do much as they let. If you wanna bark, don't show your disappointment. Best deal go out and have a "set dosa." :)

The most important thing to remember, your work is to make you happy. If it does not it is not worth working on. If nothing is worth working on, then may be you need to re-look how you work.

Written: Thu 5/21/2009 3:19 PM

Was not published for I was offline while traveling.

of things i know and not..

2009-05-15T01:00:00.000-07:00

of things i know and not is the result of this unsatiated need to talk.. talking in with myself, talking out with those who know me and talking out in general to the cosmos..

the last few days have been well spent (obviously one would not include the exams in that), but have been for the most part, spent alone and untalked of.

i know some of my friends (led obviously by DeeDo) would sneer at my starting to write a blog.. i anticipate it because in the past, biased and strongheaded as i am known to be, i have been found scoffing at the idea of writing blogs.. well you can think of this as the scorn of the existentialist for those who would cling on too tightly.. well you know the works.. I would have loved to brag about Sartre and more fondly of Camus but I would not want to eat my hat later on if some scholar happens to pay a visit! especially of the ones who don't know much about it.. :D

there have been other motives. the foremost of them being that i need to write and in earnest. academia is not for the sort who wants to stay creative. or so it seems. now do not take me to be another budding writer (although that is [was?] the idea), i talk here of the sort of creativity that one may feel after having set oneself a beautiful salad on a boring day.

the language is slipping out and so has been the urge to exercise it. and therefore this is this attempt to rein in the erosion before little is left, of which one shall reminisce with not love but guilt and perhaps loss. having read it i think "rein in the erosion" does not fit the "language" if you know what i mean. i will leave it there, perhaps as a reminder of the question lest i lose it in pursuit of the answer.

just before i sign out of my first post, i would rather also add why it is of things i know and not.

it is a mathematicians logic and therefore all who are phobic shall leave the post although it might be interesting if you would stay a bit. :)

the events of knowing and not knowing, although on the surface seem so, are not really mutually exclusive. this is to be observed since one may know what one does not know (like i do not know if Say's law is true). One is able, in principle, to find instances of when one does not know that one knows (like an infant who knows to hold its breath under water does not know that he knows it [or anything else for that matter]. Although i am sure a better example can be furnished. so that being established we can say that the (universal) set of one's knowledge is what one knows and knows of not knowing. and so i must talk about only that but also all of that. the rest being in the complement of (my) universal set would have to be null and void (for me)!

:)