Nidhi: Please don't tell me you're thinking of that?
Shwetak: no.
Nidhi: good.
Shwetak: Are you?
Nidhi: No
Shwetak: good.
Nidhi: :D

And then followed a whole bunch of talk on "that". That to fer like, a couple of hours !! :P

And I'm goin home tomorrow. YEAH !!!!

And my internship starts on the 8th. :|

The thing is... Pehle, it was all different. Me and Manyata and Shilp used to hang out together, it was sooo bloody different. Now, its Me and "Manyata and Shilp".. Its gonna be weird, fer sure. Lets see.

And I have a paper tomorrow. 899 fuckin' slides. I'm so dead.

Shwetak farts. Exits.

Hmm.. I guess I finally figured out why.. You have good moments to enjoy - the moments that you have. I guess that makes it the most stupidest statement ever. And then, you have the bad moments - so you can recal and cherish the good ones. I guess that would still fall in the stupid category. Lesson 2. And this time, I was talking to Shilp.

And yes, I wanna blog about 2 of the young ladies I have been ... uhh ... talking.. whatever. Nidhi and Kanu. Both with a 'Priya' suffix. But not today. Got work. Maybe sometime later.

Shwetak farts. Exits.

Maybe, I'm pissed. Maybe, I'm frustrated. Maybe, I'm depressed. Let's make a mixture of everything, and call it irrational behavior.

Am I guilty for the way I'm feeling now? It almost feels like, being free - When I blog. As if I lost a reason to make sense, for once. Deadforlife turns Foolforlife.

Okay.

Recently, I got one of my old questions answered. Things had to happen to teach you a lesson. Maybe this lesson wasn't really worth what I went through, But what the hell. You never know what might turn out to be the next most important thing. Coming back. The answer.

Wait.

First, I'd have to mention the question, of course. This happened soon after the recent blog I wrote. I don't really remember who it was, I guess it was Sneha.. but that doesn't really matter now. It was like... "Dude. You have your life back on tracks now.. Everyone's pretty much happy around you, you seem a nice guy.. You seem pretty happy.. Why does your blog have to sound so damn depressing?"

"I want my blog to display both - the good and the bad in me. I want it to tell people that I'm not that of a good guy that they think I'm - And also to tell the rest that I ain't that bad of a guy afterall. When I'm happy, I'd probably go and keep myself happy - why would I write then? When I'm sad, there are just so many things that need an outflow - a pathway to let things through. And so, I write. "

Coming back. Foolforlife.

And it's almost like a disease. Its rising in the back of the head, and slowly swirls around, causing a weird feeling right in the gut of your stomach. You try to breathe. You choke. You breathe. And then, everything becomes all right.

"You think too much, Shwetak. Don't do this to yourself."

I need a fag.

Shwetak farts. Exits.

Physics tells us that everything on this planet will fail us eventually.

Trust me. fall in love: your scars will tell the same story. Entropy, pain, beauty, love, hope... mix them together and call it living.

The choice that remains is where we go to find meaning and truth. The biggest failures and disappointments in my life have led me to look beyond what money or power or friends can buy.

When you're face down at the very bottom of who you are, and there is no formality or pretence to cling to, all your masks fall off. In this broken world, our lives can be seen for what they are, no more no less; we are ourselves.

The question is this: What happens after we realised that our lives have failed ??? Do we become bitter and hateful or does redemption come into focus? I've been on both sides...only one is beautiful.


Shwetak Farts. Exits.

First things first.. My regards to a dear friend.. A deep appreciator of my blog: Mr. Ayush Jain.. No matter what you send me or no matter how much he appreciates my blog in his little own sarcastic way.. it wouldnt work.. See, I'm still blogging .. Now you could show your momma.. "Look Ma, I'm on Shwetak's blog !!!" .. And feel privileged that you did. Among the criticism is this one, that i loved the most..


http://mama.indstate.edu/users/bones/WhyIHateWebLogs.html


Everything seems to be falling apart. If not now, anytime soon. And there's nothing i could do about it. And it seems I'm back to my own dirty little ways of depressing talks.. I was hoping this could be different than http://deadforlife.blogsource.com/ . but then, things dont turn out to be the way you want them to.

Weird thing. I havent talked to Nivi about what i was supposed to.. (as mentioned in the blog before).. And i guess i'm pretty much scrapping the plan off to do so. And then, there are those fuckwits. Lets take a moment here to define who fuckwits are, in this context.. Fuckwits are those who have a good time when you aren't. And that would be irrespective of the fact that they are the reason for your "not-having-a-good-time". You could still hate them, just for the heck of it..

I got exams from day after tomorrow. I better study. I simply can't.

Will def write one as soon as the minors get over.

Shwetak Farts. Exits

Why.

Starting with. Shwetak feels depressed again. And again. Today, Nivi and I talked. (Actually, She did the talking. I listened). There was so much I wanted to tell her. I guess she had a little clue about it. Maybe later I would let her know. Or maybe on one of those booze parties we've been planning for so long. And now you wonder.

Would I actually blog about what I wanted to tell her ??? Naah. I wouldn't. No, I can't. Dont worry, Nivi. I promise I would tell ya. We would definitely have our "conversations". And most probably we would end up screaming infidelities towards each other. And maybe stop talking too. Naah. That wouldn't happen. (hopefully)

I wanted to write. I have always wanted to write. When I aint listening to music, I want to write. I want to write about the birds, the bees, the stars anad the 6 feet tall trees that you wonder why are called trees. Maybe someday I would figure out a way to continue doing that. Its almost 130 minutes until its tomorrow. I have a list of things I need to get through with - tons of things which I thought I would get rid of, until today. Now I am left with 129 minutes. Ironic, the minute passed so quickly. Like 8 blinks of the eye.

Nothing in this world is stagnant. Everything in this world is chaos. Today, I think of someone, something, someplace. I dream. I wonder. I write.

why does death always seem to be a redemptive notion ??? Why does it seem that death would bring is salvation??? Do You live, just to realise how fateful it is, to be dead ?? Why is death so intriguing ???

And then, there are the people talking. There are always people talking. Shwetak doesn't have to be this way. Has it been forever like this ?? Did he chose to be this way ?? What is the demystifying reagent that would be helpful, to let the real him come out. Why is he always so scared that the person that he really is on the inside would scare people away ??

Its because he did. There was a time, when his existence seemed unnecessary. Life seemed to be so far away from reality. Nothing seemed to be true, nothing seemed to be trustworthy. His senses fooled him - and his trusted ones weren't the only ones who played games. He remembered the times, when the world came crashing down, tumbling down into a dervish' whirl of emptiness. And all he could remember was watch darkness surround him, making him believe of that unnatural gloom that always seemed connected with darkness. Like a shadow - an inherent quality of existence. Ironically, shadows appear in presence of light.

He believed that life would never turn out to be what he would think of it to be.

He knows what it feels like to feel alone. But in that midst of troubles, hardships and loneliness he met a new friend - they call it solitude. When he was alone, he would call upon it, and discuss - The aspects of life, death, and why would your mom make you drink the worst tasting shake in the world every fucking morning.

Like this very moment - I think. I wonder. I write. Did it hurt to come it in the open. The story still hides deep within though. I would rather not recall - but what the hell - I make the statement itself brings those thoughts back again. Would it hurt ?? I dunno. Lets wait till tomorrow. If it doesnt stick that well, I might pull it off the board. And I'm sure, it would definitely hurt if I don't start working on the list of tonnes of things to do. Another 74 minutes to go. Another 592 blinks of the eye.

And yes, its too fuckin cold. I'm in two minds to set my room on fire. Would generate some heat - for a change.

Shwetak farts. Exits.

Ahh.. The first blog isnt as difficult to write as the second one.

First things first. Its december. And its fucking cold.

I've been trying to hold on to thoughts. Mind is a very fluid thing - the mind. You think of one that you wish would flow out in words, and as you sink into those moments, you forget. Well. looks like you've already lost on one of those lines, that a blogger critic (No, Shilp .. you aint the only one out there) could snap and chew upon to ponder his thoughts over.

Sometimes, I make sense. ( I admit, most of the times, I don't ). And then, when I do, I kinda feel proud about it. Coz I know I wasnt supposed to think that way. And I pull those thoughts. And by pulling to them, I mean, I keep pondering over them. And accumulating on the useless notions in my head. ( I admit, I lose on most of them, but then, some manage to stay ) The ideas, the philospohy keeps developing further and further and further more, until it reaches that moment when it becomes thoughtfully impossible to prove something that hasn't happen. And you quit. (Did all that just make sense to you ?? )

I draw. I draw weird looking things that I see around me. Scribble words, almost like getting a tattoo with the mess. ( Yes, all you school guys down there.. The habit hasn't left me yet) As a matter of fact, its spreading all over. Two weeks ago, I was drawing something on my heel, which extended all over to the ankle.

The hostel food stinks. Screw you guys, no more food outside anymore. (Except Chawla Chicken, that is) Agra trips getting me all poor and miserly.

Shwetak farts. Exits.

Now you wonder. Why is he back ?? Ran out of work to do ?? No studies ?? What is he doing here ?? I tell ya.

And you wonder. What could he have missed on saying, that he had to return to write back. Again. There were thoughts that still needed that breathing space, you know... And by breathing space, I mean, the space right in your head, when you would ponder over my thoughts and wonder.

And you wonder. So why make a new blog ?? Was the old one too lame ?? The old one had a different theme altogether. There, it was about things that happened, that you wanted to tell the world about, but you never really could.

And you wonder. What would make this blog different from the previous one ?? First, I liked blogger (blogspot) over blogsource. This one's gonna be more straight forward, more blunt, more abusive. So everyone around who gives a weasel's ass about their names being mentioned , could dump their pumpkin heads in the ladies toilet seat.

And you wonder. Why is it called blank emptiness ??

Stop wondering. Read on.