Anger

"The pope said something about Allah
that angered the muslims worldwide.
I have an assignment due tomorrow. "



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36 hours later:
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In lieu of complaints about the abstractness of the above three liner, I would like to enlighten your eager souls with answers. I was working on an assignment, late last night, when my eyes were burning and my eyelids annoyingly were trying to blanket my eyes and the clock struck 2 am. I went to read some news, to know more about this infinitely interesting world, when all I got to see was what the German Pope said about Allah, and how Iran and the rest of the world were offended. It seem the Pope tried to ease the sitch by apologizing and he said "I am sorry about the way people are reacting to my earlier statements."

I used to play such word games with my sister when I was 3 years old. I think the Pope needs new public relations personnel. You see, the world used to be much more interesting when I was a toddler. I think the world forgot to grow up with me. Even my demanding 6 page assignment seemed to be much more interesting than a planet with news about interaction between mere protein based life forms.

I got complaints that people were not able to understand the above, as though they have understood everything else in their lives :p. I will tell you what it is. It is a three liner, silly. Denying the poemhood is the worst insult that a blog-post can ever get. Making the author (make that "poet") explain the poem when it is clear as crystal, undermines the profoundness of "short and curt" poem. Is the above really hard to understand?

Unbelievable, people!

Second thoughts

It comes to everyone's mind at least once, the fluttering apprehension about the future wife. In the past every time, every single time a little alcohol goes down the throats of the massively hardworking doctoral blokes, there has been talk about the lingering fear of marrying the wrong person.

None of us have girlfriends. Not married either. Obviously.

I do not remember of any other unanimous thought process. Nobody can deny of this apprehension at the back of the head, the dull pain slowly eating away the joys of bachelorhood. Not a lot of people talk about it everyday, because of a phenomenon called second thoughts.

We are being masked by the continuous barrage of second thoughts. I do not remember the last time I actually did what I thought first. Or said the very first thing that came to my mind. I wanted to eat that ice cream, but no, it was too rich. I wanted to run, but I was too lazy. I wanted to be nice to a girl, but not too much money at hand. Hated that guy, wanted to slap him, on second thoughts wanted to slap him! but did not. I wanted to sleep, but the assignment had to be finished. I wanted to finish the assignment, but started a movie. Wanted to finish the movie but Catch-22 had to be finished. Finally, started writing this blog.

I have been taken over by this disgusting second-thought process. I have never respected the first thought. First thoughts are discarded, in preference to second thought for maturity reasons, social applicability reasons, physical restraints. I am tired of logic, of reasoning. Logic is boring. I am sick of second thoughts. I do not like them. Babies I am sure, do not have second thoughts. They smile at whomever they want, pee wherever they want, chew anything that would go into their gooey mouths. I want to be like that again. No second thoughts, just pure first thoughts. I am defined by my first thoughts. I am going to write like that.... Free flowing, first thoughts.

Well, where was I? Oh yeah... drunken blokes. See? this is what I am talking about... second thoughts rudely cutting me off.

Anyway, we the drunken revellers, talked about how nice we all are and how scared we are about the girl we could end up married to. Not that we don't look forward to it, but the last time we saw, the grass was very green on our side. Just that we did not get to see the other side.

Dial T for TamilNadu (Part II)

I love my home state of Tamil Nadu.

Check out this news about Vellammal School, one that strives to maintain the decorum and discipline inferred from our culture. A gender based segregation is effective in a school of about 11000 students.

Cute, isnt it?

Dial T for TamilNadu

Claimer: This is a post that I wanted to follow my previous post about Sex-ed. But since I am in a super good bubbly/giggly mood, this takes a funny turn.

I wanted to write about the path a boy takes to educate himself, in the "matters of procreation". A tamil girl's story would have been a million times more interesting with lots of embarrassing mishaps and festives about her functional organs, but I believe I am too under-qualified to write like that because you see, I am guy (duh!). But a Tamizhachchi (means a tamil woman) has written it so wonderfully, that makes everybody else's take on sex-ed redundant.

So, to fill the void, I am going to write about my experiences with the inevitable truth.

I am guy, who was born and brought up in Madras, TamilNadu. My parents were educated and education was their primary goal for me. I was in a semi-orthodox, liberalism aware surrounding that would be my perfect setting, for healthy mental and physical growth. The school I went to was a well disciplined one quite at the top of technology and the works. So, this kind of modern setting, should have had the maturity to teach sex-ed, right?

If you had thought so, you have never met a Tam person in your life. You see, Madras is not boring like other places in India like Bombay or Delhi. In Madras, there is a golden rule of not curbing the kid's fun by boiling down the whole "havin-fun" to a mere paintings of sexually mature male and female homo-sapiens in cross-section. Our custom does not allow us to show us that kind of pictures except as objects under study for scientific observation. Our parents/teachers only want us to see the real thing!

When I was a kid I was weird (still my name is "kid") because I tried to understand things with what limited knowledge I had. This how I used to think and I am going to let you into my personal experience. This a 10 year old, OK! so don't expect him to know too much.

Oh! All married people have kids, so marraige must have done something to them to make babies. The fallacy in this thought obviously is that I failed to see that difference between correlation and causation.

So, I remember seeing a movie in which the girl gets pregnant is so is forced to get married to that guy. What ?? How is that possible... I thought marriage did something to people (3 days of marriage and a profound first night and all...). So, marriage is not a cause, but a after effect. But wait, many people have kids only many years after marriage... So, this marriage thing has no correlation or causation to kid making process. Wow... what a fallacy. Now I am all the more curious as to how kids or born... and more importantly, how was I born!

My mom was a very smart lady and told me that a very nice lady came to her and gave me to her when I was a few days old... so my mom supposedly does not know how I was born. Yeah right, mom!

By now it had taken me like 2 years to understand the irrelevance of marraige to the baby making thing. I was 12. I had started with something, but now I had just come to know that what little I knew was wrong. Back to square zero. Where was I?

An interesting and fortunate thing happened. We had a human reproduction chapter in our biology book. Now, I devoured the chapter even before the school started. I was now armed to facts like females have eggs, males have fishy sperms which goes and makes this ovum his girlfriend. Too many spermies swimming around, but only one hits the girl, and then placenta, ovarian wall swells, amniotic fluids, trimesters, oestrogen, fallopean tube, corpus luteum, gonadotropins... Oooooh! I see. Wait what the hell is this ? yuckk.

I understood quite few in that age, about the periodic hormonal cycles in women, menstruation, about the ovaries that alternately ovulate in women and the about 300 eggs that get down the tube out of the million or so that gets started when a baby girl is born. Now, I was mowed over by these facts that I thought the guy's flagellated sperm meets the girlfriend's ovum and TADA a baby is formed. Awesome. I was happy for 2 years when I was flouting my enlightenment.

(cut to the next 4-5 years)

What the hell is happening to me ? That girl looks good... wait a min, I should concentrate on what is at stake here. Maybe if I talk to her and sit next to her, maybe one of my sperms might just swim to her and I could be the father... better to stay away from her. But how come all others are talking and kissing without getting pregnant? The girls must be using contraceptives (you should realize that I was in 12th standard (12th grade) and thought all the girls who were talking+holding hands+sitting together+eating together with boys were taking contraceptives)

I did not read about this anywhere... what is going on? oh man! I need to find another book! I did not get a book, but what I got was a CD. My friends welcomed me to the world of yucky videos aka soft-porn movies... actually it was just "Titanic". Remember the scene is Titanic where they do something in a car and she suddenly slaps the windows and then the hand goes down? Oh! people have to do something THAT exciting ?? hmm I see. I guess it must be a lot of fun! So, holding hands and touching does not really transfer the contagious sperms... They actually DO something special, something real physical ! Maybe a french kiss really long and hard or something.

At this point, I was 17 and knew where the sperm was produced and the average count, and where the ovum resides and for how long, but just could not make the connection. Ignorance was then quickly vanquished with the help of some special friend of mine who happened to have some real porn, seeing which I promptly puked the first 4 times before accepting the fate that someday I would have to stand naked before a girl to have a little fun!

So you see, guys from Tamil Nadu did not have to hear this uncomfortable grossness from their visibly embarrassed father but have the opportunity to be driven by curiosity to their enlightenment in the safe and friendly environment.

Tedious

This is me in conversation with my roomie. A little introduction to our cooking system: we are four guys in an apartment, and each has to cook dinner in turn, so once in 4 days everyone would have cooked once. This was one of those evenings when my Roomie "Rai" is cooking, and I enter the house, a little anxious to go somewhere after eating the food. Because I needed to leave soon, I ask him:

Me: Do you know when the food will be ready?
Rai: The food is getting cooked now.
Me: mmmm.... You did not answer my question. I want to know "when"... like the time.
Rai: Minutes.
(By now Rai is feeling like... I dont have to answer your questions. Go kill yourself man...)
Me: Dude, "Minute" is a unit of time. I want to know like 2 minutes, 5 minutes, 30 minutes. Do you mean a few minutes ?
Rai: Yeah. (probably wishes me off the face of the planet)

I was afraid of this, but I believe I have become a tedious collection of painful characteristics. Hmmm... not exactly a likeable character set.

Pampered readers

Hello readers of my blog,

I am flattered that you have come to my blog one more time. Having had a tumultous month, I need to have a near personal conversation with you. I wish to talk to you regarding some issues about my blog.

My blog's quality does not measure in any predictable scale to any of the other blogs that I read. That you can blame it on my incompetance as a writer, but as the person who knows me better, I think I should not write any better.

As readers of blogs, you would have seen writers pandering to the readers. Like if they have cute babies, they put their pictures up every now and then to "oooh" and "aaaaw" at their blog. (Boo you should realize that I am jealous of your baby pictures but I was not really talking about you!) Or worse are those cat blogs, those obnoxious little cute things, just pushes me a little bit closer to calling the SPCA on them... for using innocent pets for personal gratification. hmmmmm...

The reader might realized the real reason for my "This months's bitching" post. I do not have a cute baby, or a cute pet or a cute me to sell. My blog is not about a theme, a central object of continous attention that will numb your senses in vain attempts at appearing cute with a fiendish agenda to attract more comments. The question is, are you reading that blog because it gives you a enriching experience or are you reading that blog because it empathises your intellectual slumber and tells you what you want to hear.

I do not pander to you. If you hate my blog: good, if you like my blog: great, if you realize that you do not understand even the title of my blog: amazing. Good, now we know where we are. In my near neurotic attempt at confuting your moral blog beliefs, I know I cannot succeed by calling you names. Yet, I shall proceed.

So you see, I write these confusing halfling posts only to decenter any faithful readers. Whenever I want to take an English dump, whenever I develop an unacceptable philosophical pressure, an unappreciated joke, I write in my blog. I am sure everybody is like that. So we blog readers are scavengers, reading off everyone's daily by-product. Considering the previous sentence I think I am sleepy. But I still want to continue.

So, even though I do not have a healthy public readership, I will continue my blog for my personal mental well-being. If you readers can appreciate that with your comments, I would be most welcome.

-The kid

PS: The above post represents my interpretation of Jungian duality and has incomprehensible recursive logic.
PPS: The above post is a piece of crap: dont read it. Ooops too late now!