Eternal rain in the talkative mind

Disclaimer: The content that follows can only be described as one long-suppressed depressed whine. Any comments on the language/writing style/why-do-you-want-to-suffocate-us are unwelcome, as this is one long-suppressed, depressed whine. Any judgements about me are unwelcome, as this is one long, depressed whine. And, if I don't sound bad enough and you have managed to stay in that chair and continue reading this without controlling that primal urge to go for the Alt+F4 combination, you may read on, at your own risk, because (one last time, for good measure) this is one long-suppressed, depressed whine.

One great soul once told me, "You got a problem? Blog about it, forget it.".
This, of course, differs greatly from my not-so-great quote, "You got something good? Brag about it and don't let anyone forget it.".
But, then, I'm not a great soul, anyway. So, one wouldn't expect it from me. What one would expect from me, now, is a few, rather quite a few geeky jokes, some totally useless campus news and my views on them, and a few, rather quite a few whines.

My latest depresses period came about at the start of this semester- nothing new, just the same reasons I had some time ago (blogged about here). But, I had resolved to kill these issues with my personality off once and for all in the holidays (in December, and in July) but, to no avail. I couldn't force any of my friends to bear my depressed mumblings and I surely couldn't bug any of the so-far-very-patient seniors with that, too and thus plunged into some let's-call-it-useless activity for the past few days.

Playing Age of Empires (better known as just AoE) has become quite a fad down in Azad and, despite my repeated statements of not plunging into its elaborate plans to make me an addict, I just sat and watched the battles for hours. Playing AoE till three in the morning is bad enough, just blankly sitting, staring and asking dumb questions about it is pathetic! So, after getting quite a few rebukes for my indulgences between matches (Chatting in AoE is built for someone like me, but only if I could play and not just chat!). Then came the long hours sitting alone in the room...

You anti-social, over-idealistic nerd. You bhalu (bear). You retard. You over-talkative dumbo. You irritating...let's not go into the details, for preserving the family-reading part of this anyway-not-read page. Can't socialise. Can't drink. Can't smoke. Over-hesitant. Apprehensive about almost everything under the sun. Unrealistic. Impractical. Hypocrite. Haddu Ghissu. Argumentative. Irritating. Over-talkative...Ah, forget it!

What I've lost since coming here, and what I so miss, is that characteristic of being impuylsive, instinctive about everything. Don't think about it before, during or after it. Just get it done (avoiding the active voice for fear of copyright infringement) and forget it.
Before my instinctive answer to an invite to go out would have been "Yeah, where to?". Now, it's a highly apprehensive "Why?". Not a no, not a yes, not a when but a highly questionable why. Why? I wonder why. Where's that instinctive, impulsive, happy-go-lucky, forget-it-yaar Murty? Why do I now have to wrestle with a boring, grumpy, geeky, irritating, over-doubting, idealist Bhalu?

This was what caused my depression over the last fortnight.
This was why I posted.
Now, I'm done with it.
Now, I hope I don't sound like I'm in love- because I'm not.
Now, I hope I'm not speaking (a lot of) Greek and forcing people to up Oxford University Press' sales- because I'm not.
Now, I can continue to finish my box of Laddus, with zero regrets.
Even now, I don't like 'Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na' and still think my review- no- my VV was better than the very best.
Now, I can peacefully watch 'Into The Wild' and, maybe, decide to do a DV on it.
Now, I can stop irritating those who either ignored the disclaimer, or misunderstood it or have nothing better to do than read this.
Or, maybe, like my old self, I can continue to type on like a crazy diamond.

Ah, I feel good. I can do what I should.
Someone tell me how PTV thought of that quote right at the start of the post. How!

P.S.- If you have nothing better to say, just forget it and fulfill your desire of clicking on that red cross.

P.P.S.- Apologies to those offended by the last part. On second thoughts, Nyah na na nyah nyah!

Who loves Orange Soda?

Another late entry into the room, another tired look around, another slump into the bed; after the mandatory brush, of course.

Settling into the new academic session has been an experience uncannily similar to the one in the first year- new hostel, new room (Ah, the smell of fresh paint!), new fellow 'inmates', more luggage-shifting, new classmates, new professors- it's been another tough time settling in. A week into the year, the room was in some state of order, the new mess had nothing different in the culinary sense but the allowance of shorts was a welcome change. The batch-mates got used to me (and my amazingly irritating sense of humour), and I adjusted myself to the grind of classes (read: filling the last page of my notebook and the polished yet ink-tarnished bench with laterally inverted alphabets, a new passion). Yet, there was this sense of incompleteness, a sense of a certain disconnection.

(Evening) After another long nap, I get up to a (most favourite) wet garden outside, dampness in the air, and rain-drenched yellow walls. Frustration. A lazy, drowsy walk around the wing fails to remove that overwhelming feeling. Two hours in the Computer Centre spent lazily drifting between "Home" and "Profile" links suffer the same fate. I wash my face- vigorously- as if trying to rub it off my head, but its recalcitrant character doesn't fall to saponification.

(Night) It's a crawl of an evening, and after bugging a few friends with some (you guessed it right!) let's-call-it-unnecessary small talk, we were headed for dinner. An unsatisfactory meal later (Stuffed tomato? I'd rather not get started), my friends wisely choose to leave me at my room (for their own good) and solitude is easily one of the most potent vectors for the ghosts of the mind to use. Irritation. A sense of incompleteness. A feeling of disconnection. Puzzling clues. The mind's not getting enough exercise. What? Enough exercise? OK. Got it. A quick trip to the security guard, and I'm sitting, having Mom's delicious (Again, I'd rather not get started on those adjectives) laddus and chivda, with enough ammunition to handle those haggard beasts in my head.

Morning arrives, after a long-awaited good night's sleep. But, alas, the devils are laughing. How can it be? More frustration. A stronger sense of incompleteness. That feeling of disconnection attacking with renewed vigour. More irritation. I somehow manage to dawdle my way through breakfast and classes and return, tired and defeated, to my room. The door's being unlocked, lazily, and unlike what would happen in a movie (where my keys would 'accidentally' slip and I'd bend down and see...), I just happened to look down and my ghosts feared their end. Armed with a confident smile, I deftly opened the lock, and slammed the door open and there it was- crisp as a just-bloomed flower, like a raindrop on a leaf. I bent down (not on my knees, careful not to dirty that pair of classy black trousers) and held it with a sense of victory. And, as one would do only when he/she is alone in a room with little risk of anyone else watching, I paraded around the room, holding it as if it were the Jules Rimet trophy.

The newspaper had finally made its appearance on my floor and I quickly turned to the back page to rekindle my temporarily-stalled affair with Sudoku. Four and a half minutes for the easy level- I'm still pretty sharp.

P.S.- The title, as is quite apparent, has nothing to do with the post. It's just a tribute to one of my once-most-loved TV shows, Kenan and Kel.

Deep Thought

You ever wondered when your thoughts are reaching a level you never thought they were capable of? Ever wondered where exactly that place would be, what kind of atmosphere would be around, which people may be there, and what stimulated your mind into reaching the next level?

Well, most obviously, you have better things to do than that so I'd suggest you rather continue fantasising an evening with Catherine Zeta-Jones.

Sample this. A one-and-a half to two hour bus ride from the centre of the city to its vague outskirts, a bunch of (loud) strangers for company, overcast weather, a drab (so-called) summer, and just your empty mind for company. Doesn't exactly make for a great time, does it? But, over the summer just gone by, I realised I thought out my most deep thoughts in that very period. Devising damage-control measures after a few reckless comments, trying to build more torturous ways of wasting web space using this page, and, coming to the point for this post, devising theories.

No, not theories explaining why my ears are a little small (as done earlier by thinking the barber accidentally chopped them off once upon a time), or why my fingers aren't too long (because of me stunting their growth by placing them on an iron), or why two other toes of mine were longer than the Big toe.

Rather, theories like the great 'How 42?' theory (explained here), now well-known as Murty's Law.

Or, the latest one. I now choose this lowly-regarded piece-of-junk blog to state one of the most Idiot-I-always-knew-it theories which will never ever change the fact that the first thing you feel in your eye every single day when you get up is some solidified yellow thing.

When do you know a guy's getting older?
When he starts answering more questions than he asks.

And, before I'm accused of being a male chauvinist, when do you know a girl/lady's getting older?
When she asks more questions than she answers.

Now, before you head for that sink, just try and appreciate the effort put in to think about this on a boring, albeit visually appealing, and long bus ride.

P.S.- Possible names for the theory suggested.

P.P.S.- Don't call me names.

P.P.P.S.- Honestly, all the geeky jokes apart, think about it.

Got more to add: (comes here as it isn't at all related to the post) I totally adore Minissha Lamba and Isha Sharvani. Now, add Prachi Desai to the list. She looks perfectly pretty in the 'Rock On!!' promos.

P.P.P.P.S.- Yes, you may now head to the sink. Without falling four/six times on the way.

(Late edit) Even if I wanted to, I could never make money off this!