back to the classroom

The bunch walked noisily towards the gate of the school. They have all resigned their jobs and have went back to their high school class as students. I remembered the old days that we were now trying to reenact. One fond memory is about walking down the road from school to tuition center during the monsoons. The roads had large potholes and we would splash the muddy water till everyone is wet.

The clock has just struck 10 and the three others in the group dashed to the classroom. I couldn't understand what the fuss was about and maintained my usual speed. As soon as my friends disappeared into the main corridor the headmistress appeared at the lobby entrance. Oops, no time to hide, i am caught. She came close to me and lifted her right hand.

"You wanna go back or?"

I silently turn my face to the right. All of her hand falls on my cheek and there is a tingling feeling followed by one of numbness. I walk on to my class room. The corridor is very windy as its other end opens to the sea. As I reach my class I take a peek inside through the window. The class room has changed a lot in the years. The wooden benches and desks have been replaced by metal benches with sloping back rests. I feel the eyes of 80 students on my face as i enter the class and feel a bit self concious. The teacher is standing at one side with a remote and the black board has been replaced by a large movie screen. A Tsai Ming-liang movie is playing on the screen. I find a seat in the first row of benches.

what exactly is mediocre ?

Precariously pouncing with irresponsible irrelevant thoughts , consistently finding a new goal for the morning yearning, something to get up from the bed and goto work, reanalyzing rethinking reliving each decision, nothing is mediocre, even if that means just doing whatever is required to live and let live. Fumbling through the tumblers like Alice, once in a while a magic potion, reveals the beauty of the wonderland called life, even for the seriously psyched and cocooned sleeping introverts. Nasty, but nevertheless, it makes no sense to edit ones thoughts, before papered it is, i mean written on, digitized, preserved for the like minded souls, to ponder on; why on earth did he write that? This para is meant to make absolutely no sense; like a slingshot, it is just a meandering enterprise, words wasted, one that is not supposed to persist for any amount of time. wandering back and forth between how and why tediously, putting all the equations to work ever learned for the best forecast, decision or prediction; it is, but, a cage, and the tangent of normalcy only adds flavour, just to return back to the orbit of thought, the one and zero, the dyer colorer whose job is but to paint, paint whence given a chance...

Musings on a February 14th

To all you lovers out there...Happy Valentine's Day.
To all you stupid lovers out there...Happy VD :P

Funny cracks aside, there was nothing that really prompted me to come back here and put something to paper (?)

Just the original wisecrack made me feel like a wiseass. So here I am lording it over all you poor readers who have to pay the price of this insufferable guy if you come here expecting some pearls from Neo or Trinity...

It is what it is, my friend and you do not have a choice. Thats it I am bored now...maybe I will come back later...maybe not...

Randomness

I have toyed/have been toying with the idea of writing the GMAT. It has been over 3 months since I first bought an exercise book to attempt my study. Now that I have opened it I find these scribbled on the first (only) page that I have written all these 3 months.

- Numbers And Their Physical Significance
- All number except 0 can have a tangible co-relational existence
- one man = 1
no man not equal to 0
- "nothingness" falls woefully short of defining ZERO completely
- Is zero god?

Honest to good...this was just supposed to be the start of the Math Review section. I successfully over-philosophisized my ass out of contention for a reasonable GMAT score.

Yuck!

New year Resolution

Gibbs: "By need, do you mean a trifling need? fleeting? As in, say a passing fancy ?"
Captain Jack Sparrow: "No, a resolute and unyielding need".
-- Pirates of the Carribean: Dead Man's Chest, 2006:

Obviously, new resolutions shouldnt be resolute and unyielding needs like "Never blog anything negative", which has kept me away from this blog for a year!
2008 is definitely, a year of unknown waters, and promises to bring in a tremendous tide of positive and negative thoughts, nevertheless, i've broken the last year's resoultion, and promise to blog as often as possible. Not that the world has missed me too much, but it meant the world to a few close to my heart.

A quick re-cap of 2007, rented a studio flat, all by myself! rented a car for 2 months, bought all the household appliances needed for a small family, and lived a good life for most parts of 2007. Got promoted as "Systems Analyst". Was joyed to discover that I am an expectant papa. Resigned from Job on 25th december 2007.

2008, hopefully, should be a year of .... ahem! i dont know!
Lord willing, I hope to meet my son/daughter in feb. I plan to meet up with friends in chennai and bangalore. By June, I should be ready for the rat race, and get back to a "Just-Over-Broke" (JOB). Thankfully, my family is supportive of my plans to take an extended vacation of a few months :)

Zzats all for now, and Happy New Year!
PS: Phew! Its so tiring to blog!

What dreams may come

I am hours away from ringing out 2007 and ringing in 2008. A retrospective look back at the year past would probably end up defeating the purpose of starting the year new, positively.

A friend of mine once confided that his new year resolution for '07 was that he would not blog anything negative. In consequence, he did not blog anything for the whole year.

Having seen the pitfalls of such a resolution, I refrain from it. Though a humble attempt would be made to keep this corner on the internet updated. With something more than melancholy bile.

To you the readers who stray this way, I say thank you. There is no point in a public outpouring of emotions unless there is indeed a public to view this!

Call it a resolution or a weak attempt or what you will, I intend to post something funny every other odd post (notice how I refuse to be tied down to a fixed number or date or commitment. And this is for a blog post...Lord save me when it comes to bigger decisions!)

Having rambled on while I wait for the bathroom to free up, its now time to get ready for office for the last time this year.

May all of you find what you are looking for this second leap year of the 21st Century.

Peace, Love and Empathy,
Cranial Exodus...

A little ramble

Khalil Gibran says in The Prophet; "The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain."

I consider myself to be blessed with a infinite sense of sorrow in that respect. Of late I do not see its purpose though. There is no great tragedy that could have bought this sense of loss and foreboding to me. In essence I am so obsessed with the feeling of complete desolation and pain that I search for a tragedy worthy of my grief.

There are times of the day when I feel particularly sad. Places where I feel sad. People who make me feel sad. But none of it is logically tied in a neat cause and effect bundle that makes sense.

And then there is the painful realization that my brain is losing sensitivity that it once had towards beauty. I watched "The Fountain" for the second time in over a year. It still does not make complete sense to me. But I do realize it is one of the most beautiful films I have seen. The soundtrack is particularly awe inspiring. It seems to be worthy of the sadness I aspire to.

I play the entire OST on loop at night and sleep to it. Sometimes I want to cry because its so great. But then I just laugh at myself for being melodramatic. The sadness in this music is nowhere the equivalent of the sadness that is my life.

So as it stands, I think I am slowly desensitizing and losing my mind at the same time. Pretty soon I will be a vegetable ready to rejoin the simple society.

The Magic and the Tragic

There was a time when I was not alone.
A time not too far away when I was in the company of kindred.
Times that made me forget that all of us are tiny sailboats in the ocean.

Tending to our tiny vessels, we flash signals at each other.
Interpreting some
Misinterpreting most others.

The company of the ones who think like I do for short spells
Made me feel I had finally reached some port of calling.
A port where I could drop anchor and spread roots.

But then either I leave or they do and again adrift in open seas.
Sometimes I signal to the moon at night hoping that it is indeed the satellite
For earthly emotions and sends my thoughts to you.

I am stupid and its true.
I love the same movies you do.
I watch it so that I can feel the same way as you.

Now I switch my television off.
I hate movies. Hate them enough.
Its no longer my escape.

This is just my delirium.
I want to be feverish.
I want to be insensate.

(Subsequent edit: I don't remember typing this at all. I opened blogger and found this draft of something fed by insomnia maybe. Maybe it was unfinished by the version of me who stayed up that night. But let the one who is awake now consider this finished and set it free on an electronic sky. Fly Fly Fly.)

A touch of Insomnia

Third time in 10 days...
I cannot sleep. Basically I dread this because I tend to be woozy at office the next day. Besides that it is all good. I slip and slide away in my head. I look at the same featureless ceiling through the dull illumination of my laptop screen.

Several times I have tried to write something worthwhile. Something that goes with the theme of this very, very negative blogspace that the Three of Us share. I have always shift+deleted all of them. They felt weak. They felt fake.

So perhaps in a light of the changing lives and times of the Kayeos, maybe it is time to stop writing and start reporting.

It has been 21 Months and 5 days since I stepped into this country. I will be just a week short of 2 full years when I step back out again, even if for only a brief while.

How have these near 2 years changed me? I am more moody and broody. That might have more to do with the last month rather than the last 2 years. That is something I don't want to put to paper anywhere either.

I have lost touch with more friends than I have made new friends.

Mentally my mind has diminished in its capabilities with each passing year. More so since I have come here.

I am fatter. That might not have anything to do with this place. I have put on 10 kilos each year of my software career. Presently I figure I am at critical mass. Neither gaining nor losing. Maybe fluctuating a bit. A little winter flab here a litter summer loss there.

My hair is longer. Way longer. Been more than a year since I had a haircut. Doesn't look like much. It has grown thinner. My hairline has receded back a little more. It is now in a ponytail going to office. Left out loose when I am home. I love it when I can headbang to some metal.

Coming to headbanging...my neck is not what it used to be. Gets stiff and painful real quick. Age and disability is fast catching up. My colleague once told me. We are earning more than what our parents did when they retired. Not just the money, but also the work related stress accumulated over decades in a matter of days...I find that argument not without merit.

I have been snubbed in the most painful manner in a matter of the heart. Perhaps the third time in my varied life. Perhaps it has to do with the fact that this is most recent, but this has hurt the most. Still hurts on and off.

Like that Tennis elbow I picked up the day I picked up a tennis racket for the first time. I kept playing through the pain barrier and it became a dull permanent ache. Perhaps there is a lesson that could be applied to life, borrowed from my limited time on the tennis court.

I ramble more often than not. I dabbled in hard liquor for 9 months. Abstained for nearly a full year. Now am contemplating celebrating the anniversary with a bottle of Absolut Citron, all by myself. Perhaps there is some poetic justice to it.

To you, my dear reader, I offer my deepest sympathies in trying to understand the common thread of these derailed trains of thought. There are still a few that I confide in. A few who still come by to this page. Who might read this after months of silence and confirm/deny what they thought I was doing and how I was doing.

So in essence this is just proof for those who seek. And a reminder for me that I exist.

Fear and Loathing in Connecticut

Twenty One and a Half hours and counting to the minute that would mean a Year and Half at Connecticut. So far away.

I have lost the will to fight. I have lost my friends for life.
Lost in the wilderness of my cyberspace.
I wait in search of a friendly face.
Have not missed so many of you for so long.
I am so numb it doesn't feel wrong

Days are spent in fear and loathing
Nerves shrinking, fraying at the edge
Dying heart beating around an icy wedge
With the passing of each day, I move further away
Strange places and stranger friends
Lost in the torment of means and ends

This is me with my mind running free
This is my anger with nothing to be
...



I lost my temper and smashed a racquet into the ground today. Broke the head and threw it away. I have never been this pissed off about being pissed off. Played a shitty game to boot with a spare racquet.