Multiple Personality Disorder

It's long since I wrote about the duality of mind. I suddenly remembered that confusing state of mind when I read this in Thomas Harris's I'm OK-You're OK, last night -

"There are times," said Somerset Maugham, "when I look over the various parts of my character with perplexity. I recognize that I am made up of several persons and that the person that at the moment has the upper hand will inevitably give place to another. But which is the real one? All of them or none?"

smiles...
The Weirdo

Pongalswamy said, "Multiple Personality Syndrome is a disorder, not something to be proud of."

On Writing (IV): Blogging and Now

Blogging used to be the primary medium of expression for many before the proliferation of social networking sites. That was one place where people who could write, wrote. Wrote about their daily lives, about their frustrations over work, love and Government, about their travel experience, about movies, about sports and whatever. Blogging space provided that cozy comfort to the amateur writers who were adulated by their close friends about how well they wrote, and took their creative imaginations from personal diaries to public space. Even if the dreams of seeing the writing in hard print don't die, people were merely satisfied with few comments of 'nice read' below each of their posts.

Now, no one has time to read 500 or more words of your diatribe or ornate descriptions. Result - forums are created where you have to express your feelings in 140 characters. (characters, not words). The idea is to quickly say whatever you want to say and go. With SMS-spelling that is unreadable for normal human beings and no heed to grammatical correctness, microblogging has become the new platform for your pet peeves and your ha-ha-hu-hus. Within very little time, Twitter and Facebook became our online anytime-anywhere public diaries. Junkyard.
Is blogging dying?

And as far as books go, now only fools read those. Bigger fools write those.

smiles...
The Weirdo

Pongalswamy twitted, "Thinking yourself out of the general masses is the first sign of being one of the #SickPeople."

In the Year the World Ends...

Beginning of every year, I usually jot down my plans and fancies that I look forward to for the year. Not that I keep up those "resolutions", but it's like a time table for the Indian railways to know how late a particular train is.

As I am growing more grey hair and the crude reality is smothering the innocuous dreams, slowly yet steadily, the inane teenage aspirations of achieving something big, something different are continuously waning. Waning, but not completely vanished yet. Probably because the indomitable instinct of the dreams of yester-years refusing to die down.
In the ferocious battle between the realized limitations and stupid dreams, I get crushed everyday. And the funny part is I sort of enjoy this. Or in other words I can say - I am not suicidal. Yet.

Following the heart and not mind is becoming more and more the norm. Man can't be truly free. I understand the need of ignoring the social constraints that bind, or to the outside world as it might appear - "succumbing to the inevitability". Of course, you have to wear a dress. Of course, you have to pay for food. But joining the bandwagon in chasing the same materialistic dream definitely does not fall in to the mandatory course of action.

The biggest difference between the heart-people and the mind-people is that the heart-people don't plan.

So no plans , no wishlists, no resolution, no expectations this year.

And moreover, who cares about the plan, when the world ends this December.

smiles..
The Weirdo

Pongalswamy said, "If the world doesn't end, I-don't-need-a-plan people will suffer the most "

The "Pro Forma" Year Round Up

It has to be... so be it.

Passion can take the shape of perfunctoriness at times, but it is required nevertheless to keep the mind going. Else, one dies, ain't it?

Looking back, the year doesn't seem to be that ill-spent. Despite a lowly number on the book count or blogs (I am out of this number game, anyway), I feel that I have grown (and not only in the number showing on my weighing machine).

Traveling has been the highlight of the year. Been to Europe twice. Savoured the beauty of Paris, once again - for a longer period this time. Enjoyed the summer of Heidelberg and Strasbourg. Set foot in Budapest for the first time. (4th winter in Europe, but still not seen snow, won't you call it unlucky?). Domestic travels have been plenty (for some I have to thank my car - the materialistic achievement of the year) Chennai, Mumbai, Goa, Tirupati, Ooty, Mahabalipuram, Kotilingeswar, Munnar-Alleppey, Hogennakal et al - Every place has a story to tell. Loved the stories of Goa and Alleppey the most. Hope I encounter them again and again in times to come.

Watched more movies than I should. Almost averaging more than 2 per week.
Mused over Rainman, A Beautiful Mind, Edward Scissorhands, The People vs Larry Flynt, There will be Blood, Philadelphia, The Constant Gardener, Mary and Max
Thrilled and Chilled with Matchstick Men, State of Play, No Country for Oldman,
Wondered in the dark amongst Black Swan, Run Lola Run, Old Boy, I saw the Devil, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre(the old one)
Felt good for The World's Fastest Indian, The King's Speech
LMAO with the Naked Guns, Horrible Bosses, Rango, Flypaper and The Pink Panthers.
Rediscovered the greatness of Scent of a Woman, Blood Diamond, Hotel Rwanda, Schindler's List, Life is Beautiful
Got hold of some good offerings from my own countrymen - Delhi Belly, Water, Gulaal and Shaitan.

Read less books than I should.
Herman Hesse and Jose Saramago proved why they occupy the top spots in my favourite authors list with Steppenwolf and Seeing respectively. Bernard Shaw with Man and Superman justifies why is he such an important name in the literary circle. Three authors I read for the first time who I intend to explore more are Haruki Murakami (Kafka on the Shore), Paul Auster (Invisible), Kunal Basu (Racists). Rediscovering Joseph Heller's Catch 22 was a pleasing experience. India can boast of some great short fiction creators.
But, for me the author of the year has to be Arundhati Roy. I am never the same insular person after I read her challenging essays in as many as four books. Thanks to Santosh Desai and Bachi Karkaria for making my toilet breaks less stinky.

"Writing" has taken a serious hit. I am very irregular in blogosphere(my only public writing so far). Even not getting enough time to jot down my reactions in my movie blog. Most of my time is being spent on exploring the life, the world and discovering my ignorance.

Whether I like it or not, I have become less sociable. Slowly getting far away from my dear ones. Can they still understand me?

Towards the end of the year I am happy to have developed a new hobby - Cryptic Crosswords. I am looking forward to every morning to spend my tea with the daily crossword by The Hindu, despite the wifey's stark reactions. I've promised to treat myself the day I solve more than 80% of the clues unaided.

More later...

smiles...
The Weirdo

Pongalswamy said, "Now you belong to the million of people who use the blog to talk about personal stuff, as if the world gives a fart!!!"

On Writing (III) : For Writing's Sake...

You said, ".....Write for writing's sake, is there really a need to bother about anything else?" and that left me thinking.

I am not there yet to proclaim like George Orwell "Why I write?" ( nor may I never be!), but I still wonder Why I write? Clearly, not for gaining popularity, or else I would have yielded to throwing some smart-ass satires or cheesy romances like most of the new-age "writers" ( sometimes I feel I am not capable of it also).

Then, why?

Probably, it is that demon inside me who wants to unleash itself and bare the soul from the suffocating robe of conformity - doesn't matter if anyone is looking at it or not.
But at the same time, the timid mind, knowing the limitations of his understandings (a new facet of life unfolds every moment), holds back any outbursts for the fear of self-ridicule.

Sometimes the demon triumphs, most of the time it loses to mind. And hence, there is an outward void that manages to hide the inner turmoil.

How I get tempted to defeat the unsure mind and make him realize that understanding is never digital - either 1 or 0? Is human mind equipped enough to understand the complexity of life, the universe and everything? ( also it cannot judge if 42 is the real answer or not ;))

Anyway, the quest continues and hopefully the diarrhea too....

smiles...(well not always)
The Weirdo

Pongalswamy said, "Nonsensical blabber doesn't justify the incoherent thoughts."