Heads ought to have an inbuilt computer. All that I know is neatly folded into files with categories and colour coded titles, at my beck and call, which a search button can recall.

My brian , though, I compare to a black hole. Each swipe of information I feed it is swallowed by this gaping hole in my head and all I get is a blank. It is a colourless entity, opague. And depending upon how well it ( the brain) likes me, it will recall all that knowledge . Right now I dont think it likes me much.

I feel like an incredible geek.

This ought to be an unpublishd post.

It’s a crazy thing

 

Each time I go out to meet old friends, we go back to the same old subject – where will we be in a few years. What will we be doing? Will we meet like this, do lunch, will there be time? What will our priorities be? I wonder if my parents, or aunts, or older cousins went through this bit. Older cousin once mentioned, after a few years you start wondering where everybody went. People disappear. Apparently.  Sad. 
A lovely quote I read, it struck an uncomfortable chord with me. (Somebody totally page 3 came up with it, I don’t   remember who) –Conformity ensures that nobody except yourself hates you. Different words, original quote did not have double negative. But hurt. How do you decide conformity? There are always two sets of people (friends, parents) who oppose or approve. Who does one conform to?

I was going through my notes of the past two years. I’ve got many things I desperately wanted over time. There must be great power in desperately wanting something.  I desperately want a lot of things. 

…Doing

I am reading ‘History of Doing’. Like Pulkit says, its a fascinating book. It has been very educative and whats more, I found some material on my dissertation topic too, however much of a long shot it is.

I am trying to relate discussions in the ‘…Doing’ on the woman’s body to this article I read recently– Whats wrong with Cinderalla? in the New York times.

The writer does not want her 3 year old daughter to buy cinderalla dolls, not just to save her from an impossible body image but also to prevent her kid from imbibing the mannerisms of a princess — that of a nice, pretty  girl who avoids conflict . She concedes defeat to the forces of marketing finally, passes the baton (metaphorically) to her daughter ( she will find her own solutions ) and ends her long rambling piece (which I read because I am interested in her subject)  making a point somewhere in between.

So the point is, somewhere in these past 15 days, I realised what Mangai was telling me to do for my dissertation. It never was clear to me then, but I am drawn towards this subject when it is too late for a dissertation as such.    Sighh

My new year resolution is to be more prompt with my blog. And more cheerful. less procrastination.  meditation. maybe yoga too. less internettking, more reading.

For obvious reasons, I have become so used to this lazy life that I have begun to dread going back to hostel. Going back would mean getting up early, rushing through a bath, cold breakfast, melancholy-ness (?), hard work, all in the name of training.  Four days of happiness left.  pftt