Nonsense is Sense

November 25, 2008 at 3:40 pm | Posted in Musing + Mulling | 5 Comments
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‘Untangented decommisional clouds with goats playing gold-stringed violins doing the macarena.’

I have no idea as to why I scribbled this on the last page of my notebook. The words, nonsensical in themselves of course, just came floating out of my head subconsciously (Really, I wasn’t smoking anything). I stared at them, then started laughing. I told D, ‘Oh wow, look at this – it’s a life-altering literary masterpiece.’

He too, stared. Then, apparently realising that I was joking, smirked. Of course I was joking. I was acting stupid for no reason (as I am tempted to do so time to time). ‘Well, it is, isn’t it?’ I persisted. ‘Makes a lot of sense.’

This was a bit too much for D. He smiled ruefully, informing me in stern tones that it didn’t make any sense at all.

‘Of course it doesn’t make sense!’ I countered. ‘It’s not supposed to make sense. Can’t you see?’ I thought that was fairly obvious.

D, who seemed quite irritated at my deliberate fit of stupidity-et-randomness, scowled and snapped: ‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean, anyway? It has no meaning whatsoever, it just sounds…dumb.’

Upon which, my tirade promptly followed:

‘What the hell do you mean by meaning? I can’t believe this. Jesus. You folks are so narrow-minded! Honestly, do you really believe that everything has to have a – a meaning? Come on; learn to bend your minds a little. Not everything’s supposed to have a meaning. Think about how our world would be like if we went about trying to cram everything into structures and hierarchies, plastering cold logic on everything! I suppose you’d want to assign logic to fairies and fluffy bunnies too, eh?’

By now, D was looking quite alarmed at this sudden outburst. Secretly amused, I went on:

‘No, you want to broaden your mind a little. Look, some things come with their own meaning. Some things don’t – and more often than not, those things do matter. Because it’s your imagination that decides what or how it is. Your imagination that shapes it, makes it, controls it. So, learn to accept absurdities because, believe me, even nonsense is sense. In a different way, of course. This world and the things in it – the real things, are wonderful, but the unreal is even more wonderful.’

D was silent, staring at me. Then, suddenly, he picked up the notebook, read through the nonsensical words, and said, ‘Well…yeah. Deeply thoughtful, that is.’
We both burst into laughter.

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Two Suns in the Sunset

September 16, 2008 at 5:03 pm | Posted in Musing + Mulling, Randomosities + Rubbish | 1 Comment
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Crowded spaces. Bright lights. Sounds.
Hollowness. Filled to the brim.

The skies bend over and the ground falls away. It’s not that the pain isn’t there. Just that it doesn’t sting anymore.

Fairy tales aren’t meant to be real. It is cruel to compare them with reality.
Reality isn’t always kind.

‘No, I’m fine.’ Why do you ask? You don’t want the answer any more than I want to give it.

I could walk away. But what are you running from?

Tears aren’t ugly. Denial is.

Solitude is company enough.

I don’t ask for much. Stories I can wander in. A song I can listen and fall asleep to.

A golden ocean of grass in the sun. A blue river of dreams. A green canvas of hope. And an endless, selfless beautiful sky, sky of starry nights, sky of warm clouds, sky of splashes of colours, sky of sapphires and rubies.

Dreams can sometimes be all that you have. And yet if you have nothing else but them, you have the biggest wealth of all.

How do you decide what you want?

Sometimes, the best thing you can do to erase the pain, escape the regrets, forget the moment – is to sing.

Why do the stars shine?
Why do I hold back?
Do the answers always lie beyond reach
Or do you create them yourself?

Lost for Words?

August 10, 2008 at 6:38 pm | Posted in Musing + Mulling | 2 Comments
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There are times when your head is bursting with a million thoughts and things to say. And there are times when you can’t think of anything at all. As if you’ve just run out of conversation, and have nothing left to say. As if words and thoughts and images and ideas just drift around lazily at the back of your mind, rooted in silence.

Silence…it has so many hues. It can be oppressive, it can be merciless, it can be over-powering, it can be crushing; but at the same time it can be weightless, liberating, sublime, refreshing, comfortable, uplifting, flowing…

There are silences that creep into awkward conversations. Silences that seize you in a heated argument. Silences that deter you from taking the next step. Silences that prevail after the blinding flash of reality. Silences that emerge out of chaos.

The frantic, rushed and hasty pace of the world makes no sense against the milieu where everything is calm and quiet and flowing. Where things, instead of being frenzied and rushed are as rhythmic and free-flowing as water gushing in a stream.

The endless chatter and babble and talk seem so hollow and absurd when pitted against silence. Silence takes us away from our pompous and superficial selves and brings us back to everything that is humble and pure and true within the self.

Silences, whether outer or inner, arise out of equilibrium. They may leave you with feelings of emptiness, bewilderment, fulfillment, warmth, tranquility, but all those feelings are only the milestones along the path called discovery, of whose truth is the destination.

The indescribable is so called precisely because of its inability to be wrought into words and images…because it is all the more profounder in its silence.

But why the hell am I describing silence? That’s just stupid.

The utter futility of words.

Some things are best left unsaid.

A Letter to Time

July 26, 2008 at 7:13 pm | Posted in Life as I See It, Musing + Mulling | 5 Comments
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Dear Time,

You are a funny thing.

Except that you have a twisted, sick sense of humour. Yes, you do. It really isn’t funny how you can be more indecisive over your speed than George Bush over his multiple-question choices when confronted with an elementary quiz (even with all the options being exactly the same).

Why, for instance, do you have to travel at painfully slow speeds during every Botany lecture? Or, for that matter, when ODT takes up the mic and resolves to display his shameful singing skills? Or during those ridiculous traffic-jams? And you shamelessly zoom by whenever I happen to be sleeping, or reading, or in a concert or in the library or in an interesting lecture or sipping coffee while thinking about nothing in particular or…well you know the list.

You know how many times I’ve cursed you and begged you but you blow all the whining and cursing with one ‘Pooof!’ of your breath, throw back your head and laugh, saying ‘Relativity!’ Well, relativity all right. I expect Einstein spared you the shame of asking you how long you took to choose your pizza topping.

Anyway, I’m a bit alarmed and disturbed by you. Well, you know, us humans are always a bit alarmed and disturbed when it comes to you. You knocked at my door on the fourteenth of this month and pah! now I’m seventeen. Thanks to you, I’m hit by dumb questions from dumb people such as ‘Are you grown up yet?’ from all sides. I mean, come to think of it, there would be no such questions if it weren’t for you.

‘Are. You. Grown. Up. Yet?’
they ask from all sides, in a sneering, idiotic fashion that brings back – I don’t know why – memories of a particularly sinister chorus of an advertising jingle I’d heard as a kid. And then, I can do nothing but tell them to shut up. Growing up was never (and isn’t ever going to be) on my to-do-list, I tell them airily.

To-do-lists. That brings back memories too. Remember when I was a silly little girl of eleven, I’d make stupid, gigantic to-do-lists that included every wee thing, including even things such as brushing my teeth at night? It sounds so strange now. I never follow a To-Do-List (I don’t remember checking that little box in the ‘done’ column in ages) now…though that maybe, er, due to my failure to follow them.

But really, that’s the problem with the world today. For most people, life has become an endless chain of To-Do’s. Do this, do that. And you go on running, adding more and more items to your To-Do-List at every stop, but never once pausing to stay and care to look.

So…back to you. I’ve already whined about you being oh-so-unfair. But what are you, really, Time?
Do you even exist? Are you just an illusion? When did you begin? How will you end? Don’t you ever get tired of…going on, all the time? Don’t you ever rest?

Yes, I pestered you with these questions back as a six year old and I pester you with them now. They’re maddening questions, you know. You don’t how much humans fuss over them, and over you. We owe life to you, and yet we don’t understand you at all. You’re never absolute. Most of the humans are terrified of you. You’re the biggest bully we’ve ever known.

It’s easy to say you’re cruel. That you are merciless and intimidating. But don’t feel bad. It’s because of you that we have such a thing as memories – belongings that we gather and carefully preserve above everything else. It’s because of you that we can have music. That we have life itself is due to you. OK, that’s enough praise to last for a lifetime.

And what exactly is a lifetime? And what exactly is a moment?
Oh, I can hear you sighing now and wishing I’d stop with all these questions already. Well, all right, I’ll stop. But before I do so, let me ask you something. See, seventeen years isn’t really a long time when you’re looking back at them – no period of time is. Thing is, you’ve always been there, always hovering in the background, leveling every thing. But at some point of my life, I hope you’ll finally relent. I know that one day, even if for one fleeting moment, you’ll be still. And that moment will have been a lifetime.

Until then,
keep ticking.

Why Is It Always Me?

December 10, 2007 at 11:41 am | Posted in Randomosities + Rubbish | Leave a comment
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So I have been asking myself this question since I don’t know when. Probably when I first lost my third successive watch, or when I spilled the water jug for the millionth time at the table, or when I smashed one of mum’s most expensive mugs to pieces.

I am not heavy-handed with things. I don’t generally damage CDs, books, stationery, stuff like that. But when it comes to things such as ear-rings or glasses, I either lose them or damage them permanently.

I’m frequently (or rather, daily) criticised for being so careless. Well, guess what? I really don’t think I can do anything about it. However hard I try, it just happens. It happens, moreover, to just me. None of my friends or siblings or family have known a person who regularly cost them loss on such a frequent basis, or are like me in the least themselves.

No, it is always me who breaks, smashes, loses, damages, spills, drops.

Yesterday, for instance, I was wearing a red, long, flowing sort of skirt. Nothing could probably go wrong. I was in the the living room, and some idiot had left a water jug on the floor. I didn’t notice the jug, and walked past. In one sweep of my skirt, the jug toppled over, water spilled a feet over and my skirt got wet. Hmph! Naturally I was once again repremanded for my carelessness, but why the hell did anyone have to leave that jug lying there of all places? And I wasn’t looking at the floor when I was walking, I was in my own house, not on the street or in the park.

I also remember when I’d recived a brand new geometry set from a relative abroad as a present. I ripped open the package with delight. As I was examining the shiny silver compass, it just dropped down from my hands. Next thing I knew, the compass’s sharp point was damaged and the new compass was rendered useless. I also lost my mp3 player in the Underground (I still remember the lecture that followed). And once, when I was carrying my brother’s PSP to plug the charger in, it just slipped through my hands – luckily, the fall was short, so it didn’t cause any visible damage (and I thought it wise not to tell my brother that I had dropped his PSP).

To be honest, I think there’s more to it than I thought there was. From my initial ‘why-only-me’ I’ve moved to ‘why-me-at-all’. If I were living in the 8 century BC, I’d probably say I’m jinxed. But really, I think it’s just me not paying enough attention to everyday things (though that doesn’t explain why I’ve never damaged a single book). Honestly, I’m a bit alarmed…if this continues, I don’t know where I’m going to end up. I really don’t think it’s funny or amusing or anything like that. It’s dead serious. If I continue overlooking little things, they may cost me my job tomorrow. Who knows, even my life. Or others’.

So it’s time for paying more attention to Little Things. Because they matter. Well, sometimes just as much as the Big Things, and sometimes even more.

Yay for responsibility.

Yumminess

September 21, 2007 at 4:53 pm | Posted in Randomosities + Rubbish | Leave a comment
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I’m sick of being worried.
I’m sick of people nagging me.
I’m sick of having regrets.
I’m sick of thinking about the problems and horrors in store for me.
I’m sick of being told what to do.
I’m sick of being misunderstood.
I’m sick of being taken for granted.
I’m sick of being sick.

That’s why I’m going to have a huge bar of chocolate. Chocolate is yummy. It makes me feel good. Yeah I love it. I’m cutting down on coffee but I eat so much of chocolate. I can go on eating any amount of chocolate…without getting sick.

I’m not sick of eating chocolate so much.
I’m not sick of music.
I’m not sick of reading.
I’m not sick of dreaming.
I’m not sick of laughing.
I’m not sick of acting like a five year old.

Chocolate. yyyuuummm.

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