I should be doing something productive with my time. Seriously. Instead… I’m using the blogosphere to ponder aboot how something Heraclitus said is true and wondering if people like Phileas Fogg are truly fictional in nature, i.e. that it is impossible for someone like that to really exist. You think of Phileas Fogg and you imagine someone who would be the exact same person no matter when you met him, be it 1871 or 1869. Two years, when viewed from a distance seem like a very short span of time to see massive change. Yet, as I have written in another piece of fictional crap that is slightly, but only slightly, better than the previous post; it takes only a second for someone to change completely. And that’s what this post is aboot. I’m not trying to piss anyone off here, but it has been fun “researching” this. Here are some lines from blogs in November 2006 followed by November 2008. Many people have changed, some have remained the same. Some have changed in ways I personally wish they didn’t whereas I am truly happy others aren’t the way they were then. Who is who is for you to figure out. As for those who’ve remained the same… I guess Parmenides is your man.
We start with the author:
Socrates always believed that we ought to “Know Thyself”. I interpret that as every human being has a right to (and should) formulate his/her own individual philosophy rather than blindly follow that set by others. If your philosophy matches with that of others, good, but do not coerce people in following YOUR beliefs. That’s what Rand is not doing. She gives the reader a false sense of intellectual fulfillment while he’s really doing the same thing in the end, blindly following the principles laid down by others.
(The post was a review of ‘The Fountainhead’. I still think it’s a piece of crap. The book, not the post. Actually… er… nevermind!)
Whatever be the case, I can claim that my life is usually quite extraordinary. Even now, it is extraordinarily frustrating. I was in my trademarked Russian authors phase yesterday, which is basically a dangerous concoction of me behaving like a attention-deprived puppy dog (or mangy mutt) and a character from Tolstoy or Dostoevsky.
I guess my blog has gone off and become a purely personal diary. The last time I wrote aboot something that wasn’t ME was here. And I think my blog was called ‘From Chaos To Cosmos’ back then.
My most dedicated reader: (by far, the biggest insult I have ever given you)
I teamed up with Harish A of Amity University’s Aerospace engg.
We were in the back of the seminar hall, joking around. When they announced my name, they said “Himish” and my mind went… “WTF! ZOMG!!!” But I thought why make a scene. The next thing they announce “Himish is from BVPC..” and here I shouted “Oh my GOD! It’s NIMISH! It’s an N not an H!”
I art tired. And quite cranky. And not enough personal time in a day, you know? But there’s something going on. The word hope springs to mind, but that’s not it. It’s some kind of an irrational feeling that today shall be better than yesterday. Unreasonable positive mood. I don’t know why.
(His blog is custom-posted. He’s working with India’s leading IT company. He’s in my ex-hometown. No further updates)
Not quite 2 years exactly:
If this guy blogged back then, I didn’t know of it. But I don’t want him to feel left out. So, his first post.
So does ASIMO have better flexibilty ? Most definately. My prehistoric sibling (age gap 5 years) points out that this is a welcome to the life of adults. Stockpiles of work, deadlines, skipping meals, erratic sleeping patterns, fatigue, a drooping posture, vitamin deficiencies and of course sweet dreams which begin after 4:00 a.m. (Even though I called it a day at 10:00 p.m. last night) seem to be a constant
MRI machine: OOPCHICK – OOPCHICK – OOPCHICK – OOPCHICK – OOPCHICK – OOPCHICK ..
Me: Aargh .. !!
MRI machine: TI DI TEE – TI DI TEE – TI DI TEE – TI DI TEE – TI DI TEE – TI DI TEE ..
(A few minutes later)
MRI machine and me (in unison): TRONIC – TRONIC – TRONIC – TRONIC – TRONIC – TRONIC ..
(o.0 This is something I didn’t quite notice. Something in the air of BVPC…)
Emptiness many a heart, on fed,
With none to console;
While the heart alone bled,
No one helped condole.
It is ironic that, even when you’re writing for your self always, it is a world you hardly make any sense of read about what you do, and the people that want to know, you don’t find time to do so.
(Point and laugh for 2006. 2008… Actually read)
And there’s noone else? I thought about Ions of something or the other, but technically I didn’t read his blog back then. (I have a psuedo-policy of no names. When I remember it, I follow it)
Should I hide from the backlash for this post? Not really. Noone reads my blog now! 😦 But noone read it back then! shrugs shoulders Meh. Nothing has changed!