Contradictions

I wonder how slightly pensive, idealistic, aimless, over analyzing talk can coexist with extremely focused and ruthlessly practical walk.

The unreal

You meet people everyday. New people. Old people. Unreal people. With coats and coats of paint, to hold the rust without and within. Adding a layer every year. Are twenty something layers virtually impenetrable? Cynicism. Ego. Pride. Hurt. Fear. Insecurity. Why can I see the layers. Old paint. New paint. But not the metal beneath? I want to pry. It keeps sinking deeper. And I keep up the conversation. My unrealness talking to your unrealness.

It tires me. And I go back to them, whom I knew before. The paints' still there, but there is the shared knowledge, of having seen the naked beam once. The talk is still unreal. But you borrow the reality from a distant past. And continue chipping away at the coats, slowly, hoping you can chip away one before a new one comes up.

And I seek the girders of steel. Immune to rust and unafraid of the blemishes. But to see that maybe you must be that.

The siege

There used to be a fortress. Impregnable and proud.
Contained but cocooned. Determined but hidebound.

Stones are merely instruments of the will that rules within.
No match for a long strung arrow flaying the tender string.

The weakness lay deep, but they'd caught the slight blink,
the walls would not hold now, they'd shred the weakest link.

The gates now thrown open, the forces marched in,
and every strike drew blood, as they caught the naked shin,
they would not win it all, the will was not all gone,
but the armor of pride and certainity, lay forever worn.

But brusies make stronger, and wounds leave scars,
serving as incessant lessons, of forgotten old wars,
and with walls goes the dogma, chains that held you back,
narrow minds pried open, to many a different track.

Peace prevails where there are walls. They will go up again.
But what they protect shall never be the same...

Ephemeral

Is my only sin,
this ephemeral high,
belied only, in quickened beats,
not a scream, just a sigh.

as numbers fit & words rhyme,
colors flow & philosophers dine,
I did it, I indulge the sin,
the sin of calling it mine.

in that passing moment,
I hold an illusory sway,

and then it goes away ...

Beating blogs to death

As I was thinking and discussing with A (yeah another one)... the boringness of a blog is directly proportional to the inability of the author to open up. And I don't mean the boringness of reading it (that is a different matter altogether), I meant the the boringness of writing it. If blogs cater to some voyeuristic/exhibitionist tendencies of human nature, there should at least be enough gore and juice to make it interesting. Completely abstract and cliched posts really don't cut it. A blog is more like a sitcom, it becomes fun when you get immersed in the story, start knowing the characters.

That brings me to the second question. Do I really want to wash my laundry in public? Probably not. Is it a good idea to let the grumpy guy or the sweet girl in the next cubicle know whats going on in the dirty little corner of my mind? Hmm. So I would rather be anonymous. A faceless exhibitionist? Writing as if nobody is reading? That contradicts the exhibitionist part, doesn't it.. oh well.

I am sure every blogger beats this to death. Its actually reading a friends' (let's call him PS, we shall refer to all characters by some screen name henceforth. I'll try to come up with interesting ones...) recent "first post" that made me ramble on.

Oh btw, I gets a kick out of messing with dem' grammer, like call myself "we".

I realized that just as important it is to be generous, it is essential to be able to accept generosity. It can be harder to take than to give.

When all else fails, take a nap :)

How many false starts have you had?

catch and release

so hard to hold
hard to let go
its miles apart
just a stone throw

breathe it in
and spit it out
i am so sure
so full of doubt

grasp tight
an empty fist
lose sight
in clearing mist

do you see?
what i mean
really sober
creatin' a scene

read into it?
a bit of tease
the disconnect
catch and release

Now as the words just dissolve,
unable to move a mind
unwilling to break a resolve.

It’s not in clever words, I realize,
where I seek my riddles,
where I seek my prize.

Is there less truth in trite?
any less metal in rusting iron,
than in gold polished bright?

I ’m nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
Then there’s a pair of us—don’t tell!
They ’d banish us, you know.

- Emily Dickinson

Every person, all the events of your life, are there because you have drawn them there. What you choose to do with them is up to you.

Problem Solving

The Feynman Problem Solving Algorithm:

1. Write down the problem.
2. Think very hard.
3. Write down the solution.

:)

I was wrong.

On a similar note

The science of simple

Lets me start with a confession. I only understand simple things. This is very.. hmm.. oxymoronish. Because if I understand it, it has to be simple. Understanding something is being able to carry the thread from this "something" right onto the first principles. There are only so many first principles.

So when does complexity creep in. I believe if its not intentional(which i believe it is, most times), complexity is just an overload of information. Its me trying to grasp more than I need. I believe people can take only a few new ideas in any given time. Before they can build up on these ideas, they need to become familiar with them. So basically, everyone has a fixed ideas/time rate.

I also believe that a faster or slower ideas/time rate does not translate to smartness, knowing your rate does. For eg. if I know my idea/time rate is 3 per 2 hrs, and I am reading some paper on mathematical wizardry, I should only pick 3 ideas to remember, unless I want to end up with a wishy washy mess in my head.

I am not stating something new, just ruminating on some ideas. Simplicity seems to be the in thing anyways. But it still remains an art. I wish someone would turn it into science. If people could ensure that every communication introduces only X new ideas/time to the target audience, it could revolutionize many things. Education, user interface design, management, well everything after all is communication!

The good thing is... people are pursuing it... the science. Something interesting here.

©Universal Press Syndicate. Original work by Bill Watterson.Originally published on 1993-10-20. Yada.. Yada.. Yada..

you can't have a Universe without mind entering
into it, and that the mind is actually shaping the very thing
that is being perceived...

Edge of reason

Somewhere I lost my way,
damn the restless minds,
even reason isn't reasonable,
if it weighs all it finds.

Within it's own premise,
is it any less than treason,
if to fathom it's own edge,
all I have is reason?

Mired in it's boundlessness,
where is the dividing wall,
now all is true and fair,
or nothing pretty at all.

I scream and I am numb,
tell me right from wrong,
in this smoke and mirrors,
is there a real song?

Of million tunes playing,
where is the one I own,
not demeaned or decried,
b'cos it's all I've known.

I can cry or I can laugh,
I can't straddle the fence,
I can love or I can hate,
but can't keep the pretense.

Will I find myself, or,
like a stranger I must die,
having lived in reflections,
in my shadow in another eye...

Emily Dickinson

Whether they have forgotten
Or are forgetting now
Or never remembered --
Safer not to know --

Miseries of conjecture
Are a softer woe
Than a Fact of Iron
Hardened with I know --

Don't I love getting back to work again :)