Lessons from a comprehensive Exam

I'm learning so many things while I'm writing this out-of-the-world Examination (adjective applied both in literal and metaphorical sense) that I thought them to be imperative in being listed (for a future footnote to an amnesiac myself).

No.1: Your insomnia gets absolutely gets cured when you are studying day in and day out; more so when you're trying to figure out the crucial person who influenced you to love the subject which does you...
In fact, the cure is too good to be believed, if you could keep your brain working for the belief, that is...
Indeed, I'm almost tempted to put another bullet in my friend's entry here

No.2: You do not miss orkut. Not at all.

No. 3: You keep having deja vu of already having finished an answer of 3000 words even before you've started writing it. Deja Vu of this type is particularly dangerous, since it makes you hate the whole Examination even more owing to its sheer frequency and non-existence of its mirror image in reality.

No. 4: You can entertain yourself by noticing many myriad variations of an empty grumbling stomach throughout the day.

No. 5: It is possible to procrastinate even when writing comprehensive examinations and thereby defy exhaustive levels of logic, anticipatory stress levels and expectations, as evident in putting together a blog entry at 3:00 am .

Transnational Translations

My cravings for food usually come intensely, stay for a few days, ....and for those few days I can do nothing but sink in to give into my basic instincts. Recently, it has been the "The Club" Panini from Jugo Juice. Like a loyalist to myself, I was standing in the small queue when a recent promotion of theirs made me intensely depressed in thinking about how life is a never ending journey of adaptation and learning.

There was this advertisement about "Skinny Peach" smoothie. Suddenly I realized how conspiracies to hammer negative connotations never leave the unfortunate. When the word "skinny" is used as an adjective to sell something, to describe a jeans size in which every self-respecting and sensible woman should feel jubilant to get into, you can't help but rue those moments of blessed childhood as motherly figures (meaning friends' mom and next-door aunties) would wiggle their noses and dwell upon the prospects of you never getting married, because, you were skinny. Indeed, being skinny was like being stupid by being bad in Maths. It bought you only shame and earned others the right to lecture you on the prospects of your future. Being "skinny" was bad, was awful, was darned something you shouldn't be proud of.

And now, when I'm not "skinny" from any remote angle, and am in a remote land away from home, I hear the word day in and day out in such positive connotations. For the love of food and language, why?

Almost makes me snap at anything.

Umm...no...not the kind of "snaps" we are used to understand in India. Snaps in India are cool words for "photos". Nobody says "photos" nowadays, as speaking civil English is passé. Snaps are taken, used, passed around, made understood, and then....when innocently ever used in their sonorous forms, anywhere in this part of the world, are snapped at again.

But no, you are not allowed to "freak out" at conveniently different usage of words and phrases. Of course, in India, freaking out is allowed. And freaks are allowed entry and admittance and enjoyment to their desires in this part of the world too. But you know what I'm talking about. If you don't, then you are a freak. Of course, it's a different story if you don't want to understand. In that case, you should go and "freak out" in any urban nightclub in India.

Looks like, you should be smart enough to understand and recognize these translations as soon as you position yourself in either of the two situations. It suffices to speak urban English and being reflexive to fill in the "smart" shoes back home. Once you are in here (in this freak hell hole), smart shoes get bigger with enough space to bring in intelligence and presence of mind and what not to be stressed about.

Sorry, if up till here you were feeling what's the need to write pure gibberish about very commonplace and obvious things, then I must tell you that this has a purpose. For posterity. For clueless people who shouldn't be losing time in translations they were never taught in school. So yeah, when you are defending yourself, it's extremely useful to start a sentence with "sorry", even though you are least meaning it. Sorry, when used in the beginning of a sentence and followed by a "but" somewhere in the middle of it, explicitly states that the only person who should be sorry, without a doubt, is the listener. Funny....and all these while we were taught that the word is used only to express empathy and thereby, save our face. Turns out, you can start the process of saving your skin and defending your face with the use of "sorry", so that you evade any possibility of being sorry later. Recently, I received a passive-aggressive note that began with "Sorry", though the person never ever appeared sorry, but made me sorry for choosing her in the first place...

Now, even though the lines "It's only words, and words are all I have, to take your heart away" might sound romantic to some, certain words almost takes your mind away and leads utterly confused souls like me, to let it out and make a mention of it so that passerby-s could notice how much importance I give to the significance of transnational connections.

Conclusion: Even with the pervasive McDonaldization of cultures and ways of life, words retain the traces of their embankment. Therefore, let's drink to glory of the words that are positive and empowering in one part of the world, and woes to people who ignore this.

Aside...

It is funny how unsuspecting moments and visuals catch you on and make you wish for something. Yesterday, as I was in the bus, coming home, this picture taken below, made me certainly wish I were knitting a sweater or a cap or something woolen, ......see something being produced, do something else with my time other than saving the world and fighting human shaped demons. Funny, because the patterns in the head gear worn by these people reminded me that I can do stuff with wools. These are not extraordinary patterns by any means, but possibly, the vague memory of doing similar stuff brought back a long lost skill learnt in past. How weird is that? And then, I, this self, am not supposed to be knowing certain things, doing certain things, leave alone, wishing certain things. It's a different issue though, whether any importance whatsoever, is given to such presuppositions. The presuppositions regarding others and own, exist and will exist based on core rules of human thought and judgement, and no amount of adulations, cajolations or revelations can make them go away, ain't it?

So, two middle fingers to presuppositions. And a blog entry.

In fact, presuppositions are handy in the way partitions are handy to privacy. One doesn't need, as such, to react to them, but they could serve as inspirations to have one good look at them, and taking the conscious decision of changing them, or sustaining them. It's an artefact, to be used.... till they are no longer usable.

But then, when the temporal dimension of presuppositions is considered, in that, the time lapse usually has a positive effect on presuppositions, it also reminds me of the better use of time I could do with (other than writing a redundant blog entry), in actually producing things that could last and matter. Matter for people who matter to me and so on. And in howsoever we are barged on with the addendum "nothing lasts forever", and howsoever we would produce wear and tear in the addendum with overuse, certain things are always left behind. To be consumed, to be enjoyed, to be loved.

Only.....what about thoughts? and restlessness?