I was walking down the stairs in college the other day and I saw some money on the ground. I hesitated for a second, thinking of how my starved of currency notes my wallet was, and then continued walking. For a while, I congratulated myself on being ethical and having morals and all that. But then something struck me - these aren't MY morals. It's something inherited, something that applies only to the social aspect of my life. This is something that troubled me; I always thought of my self as a very principled person, because that's the way I want others to see me. But now it turns out that I'm not even sure if I have morals. This concept of right and wrong - even though I subscribe to it, it's not mine.
I was walking with a few friends to get ice tea the other day, and in the parking lot, we saw a scooter that had the keys in the ignition. Without debating too much about it, we rode on it to the ice tea place, got our ice tea, and put it back where we found it. We took the keys and handed it to the watchman. Jejebapa once told me that if you want to know if you're doing something wrong, imagine it plastered in the headlines in the newspapers, and imagine everyone you love reading it. You can judge your actions based on what you think their reaction will be. This method is slightly flawed, but I employed it anyway. If my parents knew, they would not be too impressed. They'd probably feel ashamed of me, because they've taught me better. But I didn't feel very bad about it. These aren't my morals. I asked some other friends what they would have done. Abhipsha said that she would never pick up money from the ground, or take what isn't hers, in case it's a test. What if someone is waiting in the corner, conducting some kind of sociological experiment?
I felt very good about myself for being the one to come up with the idea to give the keys to the watchman. That counts for something.
I went to Aurangabad last weekend, and stayed at Aaishanni's grandmom's place. I'm so glad that we made the trip, proving to myself that I can do more than just sit and cry about various things, depending on my mood. Ajantha and Ellora caves were fascinating. In Ellora, there are sculptures of ancient Hindu gods carved into the mountain - the entire thing is made of one stone and it really is an engineering marvel, considering the kind of technology that didn't exist in the 5th century. I ran my hands over the cave walls, over Shiva's bent knee and Narsimha's toe, as thousands of people must have done over the years. A feeling overcame me - one that I feel when I think about ancient civilisations figuring out constellations, or when I watch Planet Earth; Aadya says it's connecting with the inherent humanity or something of that sort - when I thought about how that very piece of rock has been touched by some person all those years ago, someone who poured all their devotion into making a sculpture of their god.
I really enjoy watching football matches. It's fun to watch boys play, with the field fueled by testosterone. It's not just eye candy, though - there's something about the spirit of sports. In college there was some match going on, and I had so much fun just silently watching form the sidelines. This part made me feel like a sociopath for thinking, but I got some weird kick out of watching people losing the game. These boys were flying on the field, full of arrogance and youthful energy; they could have conquered the world. But they lost, and those who weren't too upset huddled together, giving each other pep talks, and they seemed so old in their defeat.
I asked Aadya if it was weird that I enjoyed watching this. She comforted me by saying that what I was feeling was empathy. I'm not too sure, but I'll go with it.
There's this guy in my class who was looking at what I had on my Kindle, and he was talking very animatedly. At one point, he looked at me and he said, "I just spat on your Kindle", and proceeded to rub off the aforementioned spot of spit with his finger. It's strange that I wasn't as disgusted by this as I thought I would/should be. I mean, it's someone else's saliva. I have an aversion to saliva, like I do to the word 'tangy' and to nostrils, and to socks with holes that expose the toes. I would have been extremely distressed had I seen the saliva and tried to deal with it silently as he pretended it wasn't there. The fact that he was so casual about it made me casual about it. There's a scene in Martin Scorsese's After Hours, where this guy is in conversation with a woman, and he tells her, "You have great breasts", and she replies, "Thank you", just as casually. I was very taken by this. It changed the way I viewed social interactions. Being casual in social situations is something that I need to learn.
A few years ago, I read an interview with the academician-turned-author Umberto Eco, in which he talked about interstices, a concept that stuck with me. Interstices are the little in-between periods that have no real importance in the bigger picture. Eco explains:
Over-thinking and over-analysing social interactions is my forte, and it has led me to, for the first time in my life, experience above embarrassment -shame, something that is really foreign to me in this context. There is no reason for me to feel shameful about my lifestyle choices or my deportment. After some healthy doses of over-thinking and over-analysing, I came to the startling conclusion that I do care deeply what people think of me. This came as a total shocker, because I really did not deem it possible that me, who lives at some higher level of existential understanding, could give a flying fuck about what other people thought. But of course I do - there's the permanent quest of approval-seeking and the carefully chosen clothes that aren't too dressy, but don't scream, "hobo", either. How could I be so completely wrong about myself? Oh well.
Surya and I decided that more than crushes, what we really need is to feel desired. When I have a crush on someone, all I really want is for them to desire me - not for it to work out so that we can all live happily ever after,
I watched Boyhood, finally, I try not to read any kind of reviews about movies and music and books before I've watched/listened to/read it myself. My first viewing gets tainted by other people's opinions, and that prevents me from having my own thoughts about it. With Boyhood, though, it was impossible to dodge the reviews, because it was ALL over the internet - everyone had something to say about it.
I really liked it, although I have to agree with Kenneth Turan's point that the novelty of the fact that it was shot over a 12 year period using the same actors is more appealing than the movie itself, Which is not to say that it isn't a good movie. It was intense, and I felt there was a lot of cynicism, more than usual for a Linklater film. Or maybe I felt that because characters were being cynical about issues that I no longer am cynical about. What I loved was how childhood wasn't portrayed to be unicorns and rainbows, but more than that. It's a tough time, where you don't really understand most things, but you still feel them - like your brain hasn't caught up with some other hidden, unknowable part of you. I had to suffer through the filter that comes with reading critiques and reviews before watching a movie, so there were things that kept popping up in my head, like, "That's right, why isn't it called 'Girlhood'", or "Why is Samantha always shown to be doing domestic chores?" But I quite liked this coming-of-age film, and I also loved the soundtrack, especially Tweedy's 'Summer Noon':
I've been getting very sentimental about how college is going to end soon, which is when I'll have to figure out the next step in my life. But I'm hanging there, through fluctuations in my measure of self worth, and through the stress of having to live with the need to capture every feeling, moment, and thought in 140 characters or in a clever caption, with the mantra of "don't take things too seriously" constantly drumming in my head.
I was walking with a few friends to get ice tea the other day, and in the parking lot, we saw a scooter that had the keys in the ignition. Without debating too much about it, we rode on it to the ice tea place, got our ice tea, and put it back where we found it. We took the keys and handed it to the watchman. Jejebapa once told me that if you want to know if you're doing something wrong, imagine it plastered in the headlines in the newspapers, and imagine everyone you love reading it. You can judge your actions based on what you think their reaction will be. This method is slightly flawed, but I employed it anyway. If my parents knew, they would not be too impressed. They'd probably feel ashamed of me, because they've taught me better. But I didn't feel very bad about it. These aren't my morals. I asked some other friends what they would have done. Abhipsha said that she would never pick up money from the ground, or take what isn't hers, in case it's a test. What if someone is waiting in the corner, conducting some kind of sociological experiment?
I felt very good about myself for being the one to come up with the idea to give the keys to the watchman. That counts for something.
I went to Aurangabad last weekend, and stayed at Aaishanni's grandmom's place. I'm so glad that we made the trip, proving to myself that I can do more than just sit and cry about various things, depending on my mood. Ajantha and Ellora caves were fascinating. In Ellora, there are sculptures of ancient Hindu gods carved into the mountain - the entire thing is made of one stone and it really is an engineering marvel, considering the kind of technology that didn't exist in the 5th century. I ran my hands over the cave walls, over Shiva's bent knee and Narsimha's toe, as thousands of people must have done over the years. A feeling overcame me - one that I feel when I think about ancient civilisations figuring out constellations, or when I watch Planet Earth; Aadya says it's connecting with the inherent humanity or something of that sort - when I thought about how that very piece of rock has been touched by some person all those years ago, someone who poured all their devotion into making a sculpture of their god.
I really enjoy watching football matches. It's fun to watch boys play, with the field fueled by testosterone. It's not just eye candy, though - there's something about the spirit of sports. In college there was some match going on, and I had so much fun just silently watching form the sidelines. This part made me feel like a sociopath for thinking, but I got some weird kick out of watching people losing the game. These boys were flying on the field, full of arrogance and youthful energy; they could have conquered the world. But they lost, and those who weren't too upset huddled together, giving each other pep talks, and they seemed so old in their defeat.
I asked Aadya if it was weird that I enjoyed watching this. She comforted me by saying that what I was feeling was empathy. I'm not too sure, but I'll go with it.
There's this guy in my class who was looking at what I had on my Kindle, and he was talking very animatedly. At one point, he looked at me and he said, "I just spat on your Kindle", and proceeded to rub off the aforementioned spot of spit with his finger. It's strange that I wasn't as disgusted by this as I thought I would/should be. I mean, it's someone else's saliva. I have an aversion to saliva, like I do to the word 'tangy' and to nostrils, and to socks with holes that expose the toes. I would have been extremely distressed had I seen the saliva and tried to deal with it silently as he pretended it wasn't there. The fact that he was so casual about it made me casual about it. There's a scene in Martin Scorsese's After Hours, where this guy is in conversation with a woman, and he tells her, "You have great breasts", and she replies, "Thank you", just as casually. I was very taken by this. It changed the way I viewed social interactions. Being casual in social situations is something that I need to learn.
A few years ago, I read an interview with the academician-turned-author Umberto Eco, in which he talked about interstices, a concept that stuck with me. Interstices are the little in-between periods that have no real importance in the bigger picture. Eco explains:
"There is a lot of space between atom and atom and electron and electron, and if we reduced the matter of the universe by eliminating all the space in between, the entire universe would be compressed into a ball. Our lives are full of interstices."He talks about using these interstices effectively to get more done. I don't really agree, because I think interstices are a time when nothing is happening, where you are not striving to create meaning out of life, where you're not running to do anything, where you just are. Take, for example, Eco's example of riding in the elevator. I think you can say a lot about a person by how they behave when they're alone in an elevator. Same goes for staring out of windows, or that moment when you've just woken up, but haven't got our of bed yet. Speaking of staring out of windows, Philosopher's Mail seems to think that it's not entirely a waste of time. Read about it here.
Over-thinking and over-analysing social interactions is my forte, and it has led me to, for the first time in my life, experience above embarrassment -shame, something that is really foreign to me in this context. There is no reason for me to feel shameful about my lifestyle choices or my deportment. After some healthy doses of over-thinking and over-analysing, I came to the startling conclusion that I do care deeply what people think of me. This came as a total shocker, because I really did not deem it possible that me, who lives at some higher level of existential understanding, could give a flying fuck about what other people thought. But of course I do - there's the permanent quest of approval-seeking and the carefully chosen clothes that aren't too dressy, but don't scream, "hobo", either. How could I be so completely wrong about myself? Oh well.
Surya and I decided that more than crushes, what we really need is to feel desired. When I have a crush on someone, all I really want is for them to desire me - not for it to work out so that we can all live happily ever after,
I watched Boyhood, finally, I try not to read any kind of reviews about movies and music and books before I've watched/listened to/read it myself. My first viewing gets tainted by other people's opinions, and that prevents me from having my own thoughts about it. With Boyhood, though, it was impossible to dodge the reviews, because it was ALL over the internet - everyone had something to say about it.
I've been getting very sentimental about how college is going to end soon, which is when I'll have to figure out the next step in my life. But I'm hanging there, through fluctuations in my measure of self worth, and through the stress of having to live with the need to capture every feeling, moment, and thought in 140 characters or in a clever caption, with the mantra of "don't take things too seriously" constantly drumming in my head.
