Sunday, 11 September 2016

The One That Externally Validates

I was scrolling through snapchat (if "scrolling" is what you do in snapchat) and I came across this gem and it immediately felt SO GOOD to read these. SO. GOOD. It feels nice to know that these feelings and expectations are real and it is not a construct of my brain looking for attention (yes I know thinking like this is complete bullshit, but this self-stigma is always there and almost always accompanied with guilt)

P.S: It's not exclusive to your potential suitors only. It's for everyone.

http://www.refinery29.com/how-to-date-someone-with-mental-illness#slide-1

Here are some of my favourites:









Special emphasis on "IF I COULD MAKE IT BETTER, I WOULD HAVE. I DON'T LIKE LIVING LIKE THIS"

I also like "When there is time to relax, my stress evaporates". Makes me glad I'm going home for eid.

I started reading my old posts and goodness gracious me I got through FSc. If I can get through FSc, I can get through this. I WILL get through this. This is NOTHING as compared to FSc. I WILL GET THROUGH THIS. I WILL STUDY FOR MY SECOND YEAR MBBS PROFF IN TWO WEEKS AND PASS THE EXAM. I HAVE DONE FSC HOW DARE I THINK I WON'T PASS THIS?

You know that's the effect of having super competent and smart-ass people around me all the time. Obviously I can't be as good as they are, I just end up feeling like I am not doing much at all, which is not true. I'm glad I have this blog so I can go back in time and see how I have gotten through some stuff, so I'll be able to get through this too.

Saturday, 10 September 2016

The One With The Inability To Function

Well okay. Let's talk about this one.

Loss of ability to enjoy things. Loss of interest in things which usually interest me. Tired. Stressed out. Can't do much, not because I feel like I don't want to, but because honestly, I just can't bring myself to do it. Not liking waking up in the morning and lamenting the fact that I can't spend the entire day sleeping in oblivion. Feeling of heart constantly sinking. Feeling of sadness emanating from the core of my being. Constant reminder of all the past shit-ass experiences. Guilt over the fact that maybe it's my fault that I'm not doing enough (kind of enforced by people when they tell me that I need to change the way I think).

You know what sucks? I don't want to be like this. No one would want to be like this. I would have liked to just be able to study and get good grades and enjoy life. No one would choose to not be happy and satisfied with life without a solid reason. And it kind of sucks when people tell you to "do it differently and do it right" or "try a new approach to life".

The truth is I have tried things. I tried what my counselor suggested: study a little and achieve your tiny goals per day so the rewarding system in your brain is activated and you start enjoying your studies again. Tried it over and over again. I am still unable to achieve the ultimate goal: develop a momentum and start studying properly again. It's been more than three weeks and believe me it's not that I haven't tried. I have tried getting away, I have tried "changing the way I think" or "my approach" to life.

Yes I do believe it is stress induced. But I don't like the pattern associated with it. I don't like how sometimes I can manage things so well but the other times I just can't bring myself to do it. I don't like how when I am in a proper state of mind, I can just do things so easily and calmly but when I am not, then the smallest of tasks become the hardest thing to do in this world.

But of all these things, I just don't like how everyone just gets into a conciliatory position and recommends the changes I should make in my schedule, in the way I handle things and the way I think. I get it. They are just trying to help. But no. I don't wan't that. It always makes me feel worse. I know people are just trying to "push me into achieving better goals" but sometimes, you don't need the "push to achieve better". You just need the encouragement that whatever you are doing is more than enough for someone for whom just getting up from the bed is the hardest thing to do. You need encouragement that it is a HUGE deal that you got out of bed today. You don't need a constant reminder of how you "have to get out of bed and do other stuff". This is one of the reasons I choose to seclude myself from people when I am feeling like this.

Ultimate dream: Someone just comes up to me, hugs me, and tells me that they know I am trying my best to work with what I have and that it is not my fault that I feel this way, but what ever I am doing, I am managing well. I don't feel like this because of a lack of trying. I feel like this because unfortunately, it's what is happening inside my head. I am trying my best, I honestly am. I am not a lazy irresponsible person and honestly, I love studying. I enjoy it so much. But right now, I just can't bring myself to do it.

I am glad that I have become more self aware, thanks to my past experience with depression. Atleast now I can figure out the signs and symptoms and be kind to myself.

One other thing that is currently happening is, wait I don't know how to put it into words. Okay. The realization that people can't help you. I already have a profound understanding of this that only you can help yourself. But this knowledge brings a certain feeling of loneliness with it. I have some amazing friends who make it easier for me to deal with such things, but I know currently they are all busy studying themselves. So it's equal parts I don't want to bother them; they can't really help much anyways and that I can't keep bothering them again and again anyways. See here is the thing: it's like such states of mind force you into seclusion with such thoughts. In my content state of mind, knowing that I have such amazing people around me makes me so happy but right now, it doesn't contribute much to my happiness because I don't see the point of it. This one is slightly hard to explain because I can see them trying to be good friends and it always makes me happy, but that happiness is always momentary. So it's not that people around me aren't doing enough. It's just that there is something wrong in my head.

So that's what it's like inside my head right now. It feels good to put a piece of me out there for the world to see (nods to the imaginary fan base) in a private, yet not-so-private way. It "momentarily" feels good to share. I guess the hope here is that maybe someone out there will understand and relate to what I'm currently feeling and maybe someone will tell me that it will be okay. I know it will be. It just always helps to get it validated from someone outside my head. And maybe if there is someone out there who happens to feel the same way, it'll be nice if they can relate to it too. That's it for today then.

Hambuga'

This one goes out to all my followers; my source of strength; my imaginary fan base:

Thank you for your constant support and encouragement. This blog would not have achieved the popularity heights had it not been for you guys keeping up with my life with such unadulterated enthusiasm. Keeping Up With The Kardashians? No. Keeping Up With The Blog.

You guys do best what you are meant to do - be imaginary. And for that, I thank you guys!

Lots of love.

Monday, 29 August 2016

Hay Storms and Jonnah's Hill

The story is as old as human existence itself: I'm not studying when I am supposed to be. It's okay though. My councillor advised me to take it slow and easy and that is what I have been trying to do, but I'll start with something tiny tomorrow. Today, I feel like reconnecting with my avid readers, who I feel like I can safely say now, are also my imaginary fan-base.

There is this weird joy in publishing something out there for the world to see but no one sees it. It an out-there-yet-private kind of a thing. It's strangely comforting. Like I am sharing a part of myself, but with complete privacy.

I have started "lol-ing". Worst thing ever. You know why? Because I'm not actually "laughing out loud". I should start using "MS" - mildly smiling instead. Totally making this my new thing now.

Hmmm. Let's see. I have nothing much to widely proclaim to my avid readers today. Let's look around shall we?

I really want to talk about depression but I feel like I won't be able to do justice to it. It's something so delicate and intricate that I want to give it my proper effort. So maybe not right now. Maybe some day in the future.

My back hurts. Nothing some yoga can't fix though. I'm eating a pear. This time around the fruit guy I order from sent bigger fruits so that's nice. Usually the fruit is tiny.

Why am I talking about this? Because it is my responsibility to entertain my fan base. I kind of miss randomly ranting about the love affair beween Mr. Monty and myself. Ah Mr. Monty. How I miss you.

Saw princess diaries yesterday with a friend. Most awful thing ever. Though I liked the ending - how she ended up not marrying because being a queen > finding a lover.

I really do want to randomly rant on for longer. I feel like this is the first time I am completely babbling non-sense. Usually I have some sort of a purpose to my blog posts. Ah well.

I must bade thee farewell now.

Todaloos!

Cringing

It always feels so awful when I'm reading my old blog posts. It positively cringe-worthy honestly. I expect to look back and think "wow the past me was so articulate" but nope nope nope. It's just the worst thing ever. I wish I had that fluidity in my words like everyone else does but nope again. It's a blundering embarrassing collection of loosely joint words trying too hard to express what I felt. *sigh* I need to work on my writing skills.After all, I don't want to disappoint my massive fan-base amiryt or AMIRYT? *crickets chirping*

The one about Gratitude

This one is for you guys, because I want the whole world (i.e my blog’s massive fan base i.e my imaginary avid readers) to know how you all fill me with complete gratitude. More importantly, I want to remember this moment forever because in this moment, I know, that I am surrounded by something too beautiful to be captured into words.

Thank you for letting me sleep with you and thank you for hugging me through the night; thank you for letting me come over and thank you for feeding me so good; thank you for asking bout me; thank you for caring enough to give me your time, your concern and your love; thank you for forcing me to go out. I felt like it wouldn’t matter but it did matter and it did make things better. Thank you for helping me get through this; thank you for making me believe how incredibly lucky I am and thank you for making everything worthwhile. You guys make it easier for me to reach out when it feels like the hardest thing to do in this world. Just when I start feeling how, at the end of the day, we all have to deal with everything ourselves, you guys are there to let me know, that people can make it easier for you. I hope that my friendship can give you the comfort your friendship has given me.


I lost my feelings there for a bit, but now I can feel the full force of one primary emotion: gratitude. I want you all to know that in this moment, you made someone feel thankful for their life and that counts more than any other thing in this world.

Friday, 8 July 2016



The loss is huge, the grief consumes us all,
The legacy he left behind, oh how will it stand tall?
Our mourning ends at “Pray for him”
We forget that now, his bargain is only with Him
More in need than your words and prayers,
Is a child looking for someone who cares,
Just look around, there is no time for tears,
There’s a world full of hardships, a world full of fears,
So don’t throw your words around as if you truly mourn,
Loss of a man, the most human ever born,
You are the same, you can do it too,
You have the same powers, you are human too.








It feels slightly childish to write with such simplicity and directness about something so impactful and someone so great, but simplicity feels okay.

Monday, 4 July 2016

Scars

This Huffpost article:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/women-bare-their-scars-to-reveal-the-beauty-in-imperfections_us_55db32f1e4b0a40aa3ab6ae5

I love it so much. I loved how they called them "battle scars" just like I do.

I have two scars which have significantly changed my life. I have acne scars which I have talked about before, and then I have this ACL Ligament Repair surgery scar on my left leg. I haven't really talked about it so here I go.

I got this scar on 5th June, 2015. It was an ACL Repair surgery and it was way way way easier said than done. I don't want to go into too many details of the actual operation and everything , but I do feel like discussing the impact it had on me.

It made me understand by personal experience, how hard chronic pain is to deal with. How it drains you of your mental strength. It made me understand all the things that I knew, but never understood before. Like, the effect chronic illness has on you life. It made me understand pain profoundly. I used to be fearless when it came to thinking about being sick or experiencing pain, but now I know it is not easy.

It made me understand how hard it is to function without even one of your limb properly functioning. It helped me see how we have built this world to accommodate only those who are physically perfect.

It made me understand the fear and loneliness that comes with being left alone when you are in pain and this lesson is the most painful of them all. I got to experience betrayal and selfishness in friendship at that time. Those I cared so deeply for, did not even give a second thought to me when I was in so much pain. It's been a year and thinking of those people still fills me up with complete disgust. Those cowards who could not, even for a minute, get their heads out of their asses and see that a friend needed them. Those selfish apathetic assholes.  Thinking about it still makes me angry. They proved that they were an amalgamation of all that I absolutely despised in humans - cowardly, selfish, apathetic with no sense of loyalty.

I know, that a year ago, if I had read a paragraph about human betrayal, I would have read it and would have forgotten about it. But now if I read something like this, I understand that the emotional scars inflicted by betrayal and loneliness are extremely profound. They always stay with you and the pain caused by them cannot be calibrated or be understood by anyone who hasn't been through a similar experience. So I'm glad that I got this experience because now I understand a bit more than I used to.

I was someone who believed that as long as you are good to other people, they will be good to you. But this scar showed me that you should never keep giving to people who don't deserve it. Save yourself and give your energies to those who deserve it. To those who have proven themselves worthy of being your friend. Maintain your distance form everyone else. Maintain your distance form those who pretend to be your friend. The signs are always there. Learn to listen to your gut feeling when it comes to trusting people. It is a result of this that not only have I completely distanced myself from those shitheads, I have also redefined my friendships. There were people who I called my best friend that I have evaluated as people who make absolutely no effort to be a friend and there are those who pretend to care but don't so I decided to distance myself from them. I can now appreciate kindness and empathy in people in a way that I have never done before.

I have also learned that life has a way of balancing itself out. The despair you experience will get balanced out with the happiness you might feel one day (exhibit # 1: the shitty time I spent while I was doing my FSc vs. my life here at AKU). The previous summers were balanced out by me getting a chance to be friends with the most amazing, most kind, most considerate, most encouraging, most understanding, most selfless people in my batch. I love them with all my heart, but most importantly, I am extremely thankful for having them in my life. I learned that you can judge if you are with the right kind of people by the way your life feels to you. With my previous "friends",  I was always full of doubt, I was scared and depressed. But these friends are like a ray of the brightest most beautiful sunshine after a storm. They encourage me, they love me, they support me, they listen to me, they EMPATHIZE with me, they make me stronger but most importantly, they drive me to be a better person because they themselves are so good. They have been there in my recovery from depression and self doubt. I know, that one day, we might not be friends, but in this instant, I want to remember how much they have helped in changing me for the better and that of all the things I actively thank the universe for, these guys are one of them. And it's not only them. I got confidence to do things that I have always wanted to. I traveled across Pakistan and I went on adventure trips all alone, I stood for our student council and won and I did so many other things. Now when I think about it, I know that I needed that scar to be the person I am today.

That scar also made me experience depression first hand. I learned that depression doesn't mean just being sad. It means not caring. And that is worse because if you stop caring, you even stop caring about being happy and content so you just let go. Completely letting go is the most dangerous aspect of depression.

The scar made me fall so low that there was no way but up from there. I was okay with dying and it can't get worse then that. So when I decided to get up one more time, everything that had bothered me all my life, burst out. All the family problems, all the fears, all the insecurities, all the sour friendships EVERYTHING. And it was hard when they came out like that all of a sudden, but what kept me going was that now that they are out, I'll be able to deal with them. That's why, almost a year later, I can sit here and type that in this instant, I am completely content with life. I am thankful for all I have and I still fear the bad times, but I know they will be rivaled with good times. Life is a balance. I'll be okay. I'll have to work for the contentment I have today. It doesn't just come to you when you are sitting idly waiting for life to happen. You have to work to sort out your issues and you have to work to make it better for you.

So that's pretty much it. Feels like a lot for a two inch discolored skin on my knee but my scar tells my coming-of-age story. I struggled because of it but it also made me understand so much. That's why I love my battle scar.

Sunday, 3 July 2016

Song: Jamie XX Gosh

She was awake. It took a moment for her to register that she was once again conscious of her surroundings but it was dark. She opened her eyes and felt the sudden intense transition from the comfort of darkness to the agony of a glare so strong that her eyes snapped shut again in rebellion; to protect her from the intensity of foreign brightness. This wouldn't do. She needed to be more visually conscious of her surroundings. She tried again.She opened her eyes but slowly this time. The gradual transition helped ease her eyes into visual focus. It was bright and extremely white. She looked around, It was too bright and too white to be true. She closed her eyes and opened them again, as if such an exercise would wake her from what she presumed to be a dream or a mistake her brain might have made in the process of growing accustomed to her consciousness. It was still the same, Extremely bright and extremely white. She grew more conscious of her body and she looked down. She could get up couldn't she? She tightened her muscles, preparing herself to get up and pushed herself. There was something restraining her because no matter how hard she tried, there was a force which kept her down. She was bound. Bound to what? She suddenly grew conscious of the coldness beneath her. It felt like she was lying on a table. She registered her situation. She was lying down on something cold and was bound to it. What is happening? Why is she bound? Why can't she get up? How did  she get here?

And then it hit her: Looking at the earth grow smaller and smaller. Sun above: it's glare so direct and potent. The mundane life in the spaceship in a realm so unknown to everyone. The red lights and loud sirens. The freefall. The deafening noise. The shadows.

And suddenly the shadow was upon her, It wasn't a shadow anymore. It was livid. She focused more. It had a foreign glow. It was upon her. It touched her. That steely and fiery touch. It looked at her. She looked back. And darkness.

Saturday, 2 July 2016

A Lil Bit Of That Ol' Self Lovin

Just watched the entire first season of netflix original "Love"

LOVED the show. It portrayed relationships in what I felt was the most realistic way ever. Many times I felt like I could predict what was about to happen next because that's what usually happens in cliched love stories but it didn't happen that way. For example, that part where Mickey is unsure of their relationship and almost blows Gus off and goes to hang out with her friends, I expected Gus to show up at the same bar and have that awkward exchange where he sees her and walks out of the bar with disappointment in his eyes and Mickey runs after him and tells him to "Stop!" so he stops, turns around and out comes the word vomit of how he is sick of being treated like this etc etc. But it wasn't like that. Mickey hung out with her friends and Gus was at work. There was no drama, It was like it would have been in real life.

But the best part was how initially, it was good. They both were good and happy. And then the cracks start showing up when they go on their first date. How Gus invites Mickey over to hang out with his friends for their music party but she says "that's stupid". That was the crack. It showed it how it is and I loved it. Words matter.

Ugh I'm so glad I saw that show. That's how it is in real life man come on. It's not always care-y care-y love-y dove-y it's real. Real humans have varied interests and sometimes you aren't a complete dick to hurt someone, sometimes it's just some words and expressions. It was real and it was fun, I appreciated it a lot.

Didn't agree with the season finale though. I would have preferred if Mickey would have pushed Gus away and firmly stood by the fact that she needed to be alone to deal with her shit before she could get in a relationship. (Nod to Megan in So Many Partings).

I'm loving this idea man, This idea of being unsuitable to be in relationships unless you have yourself figured out because otherwise it's just disaster. The idea that it is okay to be single and complete yourself. I'm absolutely loving it.

Of Celtic Charms

I just finished reading Cathy Cash Spellman’s “So Many Partings”.

It is one of the most beautiful things I have read in quite a while. It spans almost three generations and uf. The tales of love, life and loss. They fill me up with this strange aged grief of how much a person goes through in one life time. You are born wanting love and then you’re fierce in your youth and then placid in late adulthood because life has done so much already.

This book, especially the ending, has this Celtic charm in it. Like some ancient magic whose secrets are whispered in the winds quietly and tumultuously to those who hear the wind in silence.  It makes me want to cry, but silently and with peace in my heart that life will go on as it wishes, with sorrow and happiness side by side. Makes me wonder, what will I go through in my life time? How many times will a piece of the rebellion against life be stripped away painfully, until only peaceful acceptance at the mundane high’s and low’s of life remain?

I loved it. I loved it all. When Diedre dies and a piece of Tom’s soul is stripped. When he is unable to be a parent to his kids in Diedre’s absence, and they become all that he was not. I especially loved this part because it made me question if Tom had been there for his kids like he was for his granddaughter, would they have turned out different? No doubt they would have. They would have grown up to be like him had he been there to show himself to them. It’s this guilt that stayed with Tom too. And then Megan. It was good to see how getting love, care and attention can make a child what Megan was (Would Tom’s own children would have turned out to be the same had they received the same love, care and concern? Maybe.).

I loved the part in the end where Megan decides that she needs to discover herself before she could love Jack. Absolutely loved it. It was a sign of a child raised in a healthy environment – self-assured, confident and she loved herself enough to want to know herself better. That bit was beautifully written, especially the part where she knows that until she knew herself, she would never be able to love Jack properly because she would have taken himself into her and she wouldn’t know her own worth, which is why she will be unhappy and will always fear Jack leaving her. So for the sake of loving someone completely, she decided to know herself completely. That was beautiful.

Another thing I noticed was this gradual trend of relationships from old to the modern era. Relationships were tad bit more romanticized in the stories of the previous generation. The modern love story, like that of Megan and Jack, was almost practical and focused on realization of self-worth before giving yourself to someone else; Tom and Billy’s relationship was focused on friendship, love which comes from having lived and experienced life together, understanding and being a source of comfort for each other; Mary and Thaddeus’s relationship focused on the willingness to sacrifice, compromise and growing to love each other eventually after having lived together. I liked these modern calmer portrayals of relationships as compared to the tumultuous passion derived relationships like that of Mary and Michael Hartington.


It’s been quite a while since I got absorbed into words. I’m glad I could feel the beauty of it again through this book.

Monday, 27 June 2016

Luna Faccia Cicatrici Di Battaglia (Moon Face Battle Scars)

I have been wanting to write a post about this for quite a while now. No better time than 7:30 in the morning when you have been trying to sleep unsuccessfully for the past 4 hours.

I have acne scars on my face. I suffered from acne for almost all my pubertal life. I remember having a phase of clear skin once in between, after a really bad outbreak. And then it sprouted up again. Needless to say, acne has been a huge part of my life.

Here is the thing about acne scars - if you see someone with them, know that they have experienced the hurt of being constantly reminded that hey are imperfect in a society which emphasizes on perfection at all costs. Know that they have full knowledge of the fact that society held something against them that they had no control over.

For me personally, I have been told numerous times, to my acne ridden face, that I am ugly; that I am not attractive enough or "who would be attracted to me?". It would have been fine if it was just the h8ers h8ing but it wasn't. This was coming from people who I considered my friends at that time (they seemed to have changed now so some hard feelings, but not completely all hard feelings). Now when I look back at it, it feels strange. I feel a mixture of bitterness over the fact that people (more importantly, my "friends") didn't understand that I did not ask for this, and relief because this experience was extremely character building.

I realized early on, that my acne became a very good people-filter. It was a sieve which separated those who were inconsiderate in their remarks and put looks above character. It was so easy to separate the kind ones from ones who did not have an inch of consideration for someone else in their hearts; the ones who could not see that I was in obvious discomfort and pain and only chose to see "an ugly girl".

Another important outcome of acne was that once I realized that it was completely out of my hands and that there was simply nothing I can do to fulfill the society set standards of "beauty", I started focusing on other things. I prided myself in being good at studies, in being responsible, in being more practical in my approach to maturity and maybe in a sense of being different (we all feel that no doubt). But most importantly, I love how having acne myself gave me an insight into what it feels like to be objectified and that helps me connect with people who might be going through a similar ordeal.

Ugly Betty S04E17: "All right, having braces is hard, right? People make fun of you, and it hurts your feelings, which made you comapassionate



However, despite all my achievements which I am extremely proud of, having acne did actually effect my self-esteem (even though I hate to admit it). The strange part is that it personally never bothered me that I had a few pimples on my face. What bothered me were the words thrown at me as a result of that. It took me the longest time to accept the fact that someone else's actions and words had negatively impacted my self esteem. I was in denial because I did not want to give anyone enough power to hurt me. I recently realized that it is only human to be hurt especially if it was coming from people who I considered my friends. I realized that when someone told me that I looked nice, I did not believe them because I had been told that I wasn't for so long

Here I would like to mention an interaction I had with my therapist. So in one of the sessions with her, we reached the conclusion that I had low self esteem when it came to my looks which was quite true. What happened next was pretty surprising. My therapist and I started arguing over how I should be using make-up to hide my acne scars because as far she she could she, my acne scars were the only anomaly and otherwise I was pretty good looking. Needless to say, I never went to her again. I reached two conclusions that day:
1. My therapist, more like ex-therapist, was extremely stubborn and felt the need to dictate to her patients to conform to the rules of the society in order to attract male species. She didn't even bother to explore the actual reason why my self esteem was low (years of being told that I wasn't pretty enough) and condemn the actions and words of those who had said those things to me in the past. No, instead it was me who needed to cover up my acne scars so I could appear more "attractive".
2. The idea of using make up to hide my acne scars absolutely disgusted me. It felt like deception. Trying to hide under the coats of make up to try and fit into the society's flawed standards of beauty? To achieve what goal? To get praises from people who focused on outer beauty only?
Now don't get me wrong. I am NOT implying that beauty doesn't matter. It matters. But trying to hide yourself and put on a facade for acceptance, that didn't seem right to me.

If there was one thing that this meeting made me realize it was how much I hated the idea of trying to hide who I am. I started feeling like my acne scars aren't just ordinary scars. They are battle scars. They make me a survivor of wounds inflicted by words. And if anything, I need to be extremely proud of them. Because honestly, scars are beautiful because they have a story of bravery and courage associated with them. I wouldn't have it any other way.

Besides, corny as it sounds, it's what is underneath that matters. And now that I think about it, all the people in my life that I love, I find all of them beautiful to look at. They are just such a pleasant sight to my eyes and mind. That, I say, is what beautiful truly is and I hope that I am that kind of beautiful for some people too.

This bit of The Twits by Roald Dhal is still the most beautiful thing I have ever read. 



https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=1065820430176002&set=p.1065820430176002&type=3&theater
YES YES YES YES!

Saturday, 25 June 2016

Post Its. Painters. And POW WOW!

Following Tom Rosenthal's work took me to Marcel Duchamp (pron, Marcel Du-sha) and that made me wonder: What exactly is it that makes painted art so important? Why do certain pieces of art become really famous? What is the cryptic meaning behind, say, a brush on canvas, that I don't understand, yet, is sold for millions? So I started reading articles and from what I understand, this is how it work:

A painter paints
Displays painting in a gallery
Gallery determines the price of the painting
Sells the painting to a buyer
Critics decipher the painting and the painter and determine a meaning
The meaning deciphered can change the course of history 

Initial main goal: to turn painter into a well known brand OR make his painting really famous (which in turn will turn the painter into a well known brand)
 
Increased controversy = increased popularity of painting = increased selling price for the painting = increased chances of painter's name becoming the "Brand" = increased chances of his future paintings/art work being recognized successfully = increased critique = increased chances of it being "revolutionary"

To prove this equation, we have

Exhibit # 1:

Painting of Mona Lisa. Hung in Louvre. Unknown until it was stolen in 1911 and then all of a sudden, it was everywhere. It became a master piece due to the fact that it became so well known.

Once the artist has established themselves as a renowned painter, anything they do might be considered a form of art.

Exhibit # 2: 

Marcel Duchamp's Bicycle Wheel. About this work of art, Duchamp said "Please note that I didn't want to make a work of art out of [Bicycle Wheel]. The word 'Readymade' did not appear until 1915, when I went to the United States. It was an interesting word, but when I put a bicycle wheel on a stool, the fork down, there was no idea of a 'readymade,' or anything else. It was just a distraction. I didn't have any special reason to do it, or any intention of showing it, or describing anything. No nothing like that..."

And yet, when he displayed this bicycle wheel, it was revolutionary enough to create a new art movement "Readymade" 

Exhibit # 3

Marcel Duchamp's "Fountain". To layman's eye, it is nothing but a urinal with "R. Mutt 1917" scribbled on it's side. But in the world of art, putting up a urinal in an art exhibition was a way Duchamp criticized certain aspects of art. The more I read about it, the more interpretations I come across: It was a practical joke; it represented sexuality and eroticism (men's urinal having features of masculinity and yet, has the feminine property of "receiving men's fluid") and so many more. The list is never ending. 

The fascinating part is that a common urinal had the power to evoke so much criticism, so many interpretations and an artistic revolution. It just made me wonder. What is the difference between Marcel's urinal and this:


Because this piece of art (which is basically a black line drawn on a paper) could be interpreted as:

The Line: Rejection of Modern Education

In "The Line", the artist subtly rejects modern forms of education and highlights the negative impact it has had on people. She used a lined paper, ordinary for all uses and purposes, because she wanted to emphasize and hint at the quality of media that reaches us and adds to our knowledge (I used it because it was easier to reach). The use of black color indicates a gloom that has set over the never ending race to achieve more and more in the fields of education, without much attention given to the use and importance of what is being learned (I used a black pen because that was closest to me). The break in the stroke of the line represents how contemporary education is bound to falter and lose it's momentum once it is understood that these modern methods do nothing but hinder progress and motivation of the mind (The pen stopped working so I had to draw the line again).

Am I right? No. Wrong.

For one, these artist have put their minds and souls into their paintings. It might be a representation of something which feels tiny to me, but they put a part of their whole selves - their ideas and imagination and efforts into one idea. And people can connect to that idea. Art is a form of connection and it's the connection that people look for. 

I do have to say that I find it quite fascinating, how one person got so much power that their choice of displaying a urinal could invoke such a momentous response. What makes Duchamp's urinal so different from all the urinals around the world? Why is it that my "The Line" can't be used for revolutionary purposes to re-evaluate and change methods of education? I would say the difference was fame and location. This urinal wasn't an ordinary urinal because it was Marcel Duchamp's urinal and it wasn't displayed in a toilet. It was displayed in a gallery. My "The Line" is strictly restricted to the reach of my imaginary fan base. Art, in any form, thrives on the "celebrity effect". 

However, the thing that fascinates me the most is how I started writing this post a bit critical of artists and painters, but during the process of writing, I have realized that it is a strange, yet beautiful phenomenon. How maybe just a stroke of brush can make someone somewhere feel like they understand what someone so far away from them did. Or maybe it made them want to understand the artist - the desire to seek what another person might be thinking. It is such an integral part of being human. The desire to express, understand, feel and connect. So maybe paintings and poetry might not be my cup of tea, but I do understand it's purpose now - connection. We might over do it at times, but the sentiment persists.

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2016/05/25/prankster-puts-glasses-on-gallery-floor---and-visitors-mistake-t/

Of Saturday like Sardines

Room lights dimmed to the minimum I have.

I started watching "By The Sea" but it felt so forced and weird. I like how I am sitting on my study table and typing this out. My back is straight and it is easy to type it all out. I'm in a comfortable posture.

I want to start doing that thing again where I listen to songs and just write.

TOM ROSENTHAL: random songs

What do I know,
Of love and lies
What do I know
Of heart breaks and goodbyes

What do I know
Of life's infathomable spirit
What do I know
Of when one dies

What do I know
Of all the lows and highs
What do I know
Of when the heart dies

What do I know
For all the knowing
That I could know
For life I would still say

What do I know

Friday, 24 June 2016

I can never be alone when all the gods keep calling me out

So there are these movies that you watch after which you just get up and live your life. And then there are ones resonate with something deep inside your heart. Like a familiar cord that was waiting to be struck and once it's struck you feel understood. Somewhere out there made something that became a channel for that feeling buried deep within to rear it's head and show itself. It's a connection that is as rare and exclusive in it's character as it is beautiful. Of all the movies that I have watched in my life these are the ones which made me feel like that:

1. August Osage County
2. Big Fish
3. Louder Than Bombs

These are the ones I can think of at the moment. I have a special inexplainable connection with these movies. It's a sentiment that no one seems to be able to share with me, which is understandable because these movies won't resonate with people for the same reasons they resonate with me. I wish I could find someone who would understand the way I feel about these movies because I don't  have words to explain these feelings so there has to be more of a silent connection of understanding. Ah well.

Reading my old posts. Kind of embarrassing. It's so out there in the world. All my flaws, all that I was and all I believed in even if it was terribly wrong. It's weird but a great reflection of how much I have changed.

If some one were to ask me the time when I stopped feeling like a kid, it would be summers of 2015 - my first year in medical college. Ah. What a summers it was. Filled with excruciating physical pain, mental agony and most unexpected tales of betrayal and loss of friendships. See, the thing about not feeling like a kid anymore is that no one would ever want to stop living in a world painted with rosy colors. "Coming of age" usually involves a brutal experience of something of a negative sort. Kind of like a punch to the face which knocks out your sunglasses so you are left squinting in the extreme sunlight, blinded, in pain and in shock of the suddenness with which it all happened. But eventually your eyes adjust to the sunlight and you grow accustomed to seeing without your glasses which are now broken. This realization is followed by a frantic attempt to fix the glasses, trying to regain the protection you once had but no matter what you do and how much you struggle, the cracks will always remain. There is no way you can repair your glasses. And then, comes the beautiful part - acceptance. You just accept that this is what it is like. What protects you will be forcefully snatched from you, one by one, and that's okay. Because you learn how to survive better. You get the peace that comes with acceptance. So you look at your broken glasses wistfully, thinking back in time when they used to protect you from the glare that you now have to live with. But it's okay. Maybe the glare isn't so bad. Maybe your eyes actually craved the glare. Maybe you needed to see the world in a different color. I know it was for me. It changed my life for good. I don't know if I should give myself credit for changing my life like this or I was incredibly lucky to have been in such a good situation. Maybe it's both. Anyways. I am happy, content and I feel good. I am content with my life.

Toodles

Thursday, 23 June 2016

Bronchioles and Ink Pens

I wandered here. Okay I don't know how to start again. It's been quite a while and during this "while" I have come to believe that writing is not my strong suite so I am kind of discouraged. Plus there is this thing where my friends have started joking about my english which has had a counter productive effect on me (will communicate it to them and [it makes me happy to know that I now have friends who can understand my dilemmas and be kind to me instead of making me feel weak about feeling feels and not understanding]). But reading my previous posts has made me realize how I am not that bad. Plus it reminded me of the joy of blogging so I might start again.

A few random things in my head right now:

1. The friends I have made in Aku are so much better than any friendship I have had all my life. I was reading my old blog posts and it made me realize how my old friends made me feel so unattractive and unwanted. Plus they never really understood the peculiar situation I was in because of my family problems. The worst part - they never really made much of an effort to understand. I attribute that to the fact that everyone was immature back then, I see that they might have changed now. Or is it me who has changed? I don't know. But it wasn't pleasant reading about the effects my old friends had on me.

2. I'm thankful beyond words for the friends I have now. They mean the universe to me. I am so lucky to have people around me who have had such a positive impact on me.

3. I made a few racist jokes in a few of my previous posts. I am extremely sorry about that. I did not have an understanding of the impact these things have because I did live in a tiny world of my own. Now that I do, I realize how absolutely not right it is to make such jokes. I wanted to delete to those but now I have decided against it because they were an outcome of the limited knowledge I had and now that I know it's not cool AT ALL. So maybe at least it is one way of knowing that I have evolved.

4. The unfulfilled life I used to write about and how it frustrated me? I am finally living the fulfilling life

5. Lots and lots of love to my two special babies who just told me that they are two of my most avid readers and that they got really really excited about reading my blog. That encouraged me alot. (Baby # 1 Lara Baby # 2 Fatfats). I'm writing this one hoping that you guys will read it: YOU THERE. YES YOU. I LOVE YOU.


Feeling satisfied and happy. Will eventually start writing more from now on. It's A LOT of fun. I had my own "coming of age story" now. Can't wait to tell it to my "avid" readers. (I'm slightly disappointed that I can't use the term "imaginary fan base" now because two real humans told me that they read my blog.)

Toodaloo Gubsies.


Monday, 18 January 2016

ITS BEEN YEARS

Faithful fellow imaginary comrades,

It has been a year to date (not really but it sounds fancier saying it), since I made my last entry. Much has happened and life has changed. Lessons have been learnt and perspectives have been changed. Emotions that were unknown to me, embraced me and life events left me dazed.

But this is not where I discuss the seriousness of life and it's marvels. No. This is where I let go all inhibitions and just pour out complete crap to my imaginary avid readers.

I have been reading my old posts and my love affair with Mr. Monty has stirred within me again. It's something that no one understands and it's something no one can share. Except recently, my friend (best friend if I may) told me that he started watching Monty Python and ah! What a wonderful feeling overcame me. Not only did I believe that my love affair with Mr. Monty would elude the understanding of humans in my generation, I also believed that I would be alone in my understanding of the nature and pure joy of my affair with Mr. Monty.

And then, one fine day, Khan says to me


 "And now, for something completely different!" 


My faithful imaginary comrades, that was the day my heart escaped the realms of worldly happiness and entered into the meadows of pure joy of companionship in which I saw Khan and myself, skipping merrily among flowers and and sun beams, with none other than Mr. Monty himself. It was a fine day indeed, and an even finer moment. 

I proposed that we watch Monty Python together but I haven't received a reply yet. I can't wait to discuss the pure joy that Mr. Monty has given me and share it with someone who is as dear to me as Khan is.

If only I had the proper words to describe the joy I felt when I saw it again
OOO AN "OOP
OH EDEN AND MAUDLING THAT 'OOP HAS AN 'OLE IN

Goodness Mr. Monty. You enchant me and leave me spellbound with joy and happiness.