We No Speak Americano

Such brilliant coordination & super creative. I just fell in love with these folks! ♥

My way and the highway. Same difference.

You are right and I am right and let us all live in peace. Why can't people live with that? Why is it that one feels a sense of achievement only when he has submission from the other party, some credit for being the right one in the discussion? Or is that the point of a discussion?...to go hoist a teeny weeny flag of victory in the cranium of the other, a fort conquered, a point made.. 1-Luv ...Point 1 to Y, next serve X.

I always wonder about people who are so adamant about their way being the only right way. The inflexible, “my way or the highway” attitude sometimes seems to me like one’s desperate attempt at convincing the critic within self, more than the other party in discussion; like repeating something a hundred times will somehow make it all real. A frantic attempt at holding on to beliefs, eyes & ears shut to what the other person is saying, lest the other person says something that shakes the foundation of our belief system of many years. How far do we go before we snap under pressure of our own rigidity?

On the other hand, if someone is stuck up on flexibility, does that make the person stuck up or flexible!? As someone very intelligent said, “Too much of anything is a bad thing”. Maybe even the case with flexibility. Flexibility is great, one of the most important traits required to take us through life, but where do we draw the line?

Does flexibility mean being a “YES” man at all times? Saying yes to anything and everything just so we can keep those around us happy... at the expense of being unhappy ourselves ? Does it mean living a life sans an opinion of our own, going by another’s opinion...just so that peace prevails!? Give up ones freewill, so as to be the martyr in the battle for peace. How far do we go before someone snaps a collar around our necks for being a tad bit too flexible?

And then, maybe true flexibility is just about acknowledging the other point of view, it is about being aware of an alternate reality which is as real as our own and being comfortable with the differences. No pressure to make it a one view world. Live and let live.

A good debater never lives under the false impression of a one sided story. He knows both sides of the story and decides to argue from a side he is more comfortable with, knowing very well that there exists another view, one that is as real as his own. Only if we could tackle life and the varied views of the bioscope with similar scrutiny, evolve so our views are inclusive instead of exclusive of realities other than our own.

Someday, flexible or not, we will question our own beliefs, Ask why!? And I pray real hard, when that happens, the voice that replies back is our own and there is no stranger we see in the mirror.

This is your Life

Limon Y Sal

As part of the assignment at Spanish class, I had to translate the Julieta Venegas song ,"Limon y Sal" and describe the video. I was quite thrilled for coming across a love song that I absolutely loved almost instantly and a video that I love even more.

The video is of a Charles Chaplin-esque silent black and white quality, with the song playing in the background. It is no word to word nursery school dramatization of the song, but is so multi layered and convoluted that it adds to the dimension of the song itself.

I started this post, wanting to narrate the story... my interpretation of the song. The multi layered dream that it is, a story within a story, all the deciphering, that was enough to get me ecstatic over something others dismissed for its weirdness.I am no sheep. I love weird.

Although, as I continue writing this, the interpretation does not seem too important.It would be the inception of an additional layer to the story, and I'd rather have you design your own story. A story I absolutely love. A story I hope you see.

Julieta Venegas - Limon Y Sal (Official Music Video). Watch more top selected videos about: Julieta Venegas

Tengo que confesar que a veces, no me gusta tu forma de ser,

(I have to confess that sometimes, I don't like the way you are)

luego te me desapareces y no entiendo muy bien porque,

(then you disappear & I don't understand very well why)

no dices nada romantico cuando llega el atardecer,

(You say nothing romantic, when it is dark)

te pones de un humor extraño con cada luna llena al mes.

(You are in a strange mood with evert full moon of the month)

Pero a todo lo demás, le gana lo bueno que me das,

(But all that remains, is get the good you give meh)

solo tenerte cerca, siento que vuelvo a empezar.

( Only having you close to me, I feel that I'm back to the start)

Chorus

Yo te quiero con limon y sal, (I love lemon & salt)

yo te quiero tal y como estas,(I love you as you are)

no hace falta cambiarte nada,(You don't need to change nothing)

yo te quiero si vienes o si vas, ( I love you if you come or if you go)

si subes y bajas y no estas seguro de lo que sientes.

(If you are high & low & you are not sure of what you feel)

Tengo que confesarte ahora, nunca creí en la felicidad,

(I have to confess to you now, I never believed in happiness

a veces algo se le parece, pero es pura casualidad,

(sometimes some things seem a certain way,but is pure coincidence)

Luego me vengo a encontrar con tus ojos me dan algo mas,

(Then I come to find with your eyes they give me something more)

solo tenerte cerca, siento que vuelvo a empezar.

(Only to have you close, I feel that I am back to the start)

Chorus x 2

Solo tenerte cerca siento que vuelvo a empezar.

(Only to have you close, I feel that I am back to the start)

An ode to the appraisal

They want me to play my part right

Jack rabbit in Shakespeare is quite rare

Jack rabbit in Shakespeare would surely be interesting

It's a different story though,meant for a different ring

The spot light is where I want to be

The mob is here for Brutus, not for hoppity skip shindig

Brutus is what I will play today

Take a slow bow, Send a quick kiss in the air

Jack rabbit in Shakespeare would surely be interesting

It's a different story though,meant for a different ring

Teleported

Sultry summer day, as I ride down to work in a super rattle of a rickshaw… I catch on the air, a whiff of greens from the vegetable market, below. The early morning market by the flyover, with the freshest of peas, spinach and all things green.

The cars whizzing past, from the opposite direction… Miles Davis playing in the ear phones …This could be a wonderful shot for a new age documentary... a fast paced stylish thriller maybe!

Jump scene ~ there I was, dressed in a white linen blouse and a beige skirt; a wide brimmed hat, and beige stilettos that also worked as a back up on the ammo front. And the super stylish Jackie Kennedy shades of course. How can any picture of the Mediterranean thriller be complete without that piece of gorgeousness .

Sitting at the street side cafe ... in a shaky hand held camera frame... I waited for that message. A note on crisp white handmade paper, embossed in gold the words "the Alpha & the Omega". I waited for it to surface from the mugginess of the air , a clue to what was in store for me ahead.

Restless... sitting in a shaky frame can be as disturbing as watching the rain come down on a bladder ready to burst. "Tap tap tap ", my heels added to the rhythm of the wobble ... the Miles Davis thrown in, I could see the order in the chaos now. I could feel myself getting ready to drop the act in the Moroccan drama and get back to the rickshaw sans the exotic. Maybe break into a dance on the roof of the rickshaw even.

How do I get back to reality though? Which one was my reality anyways!? Whatever happened to the message, I wondered. Messages are supposed to come easy. Easy & Effortless.

Waiting for the "sign".... still waiting... some more.

I decided to spend my time waiting, over a cup of kahwa. I took a tiny sip of the dense bitterness...a tiny sip is all it took & the world around me collapsed...a tiny sip, and all the pieces fell into place right away. As quickly as I jumped from the rickshaw to the exotic Moroccan tale...I was transported back to the mundane.

In my hand, I held a folded piece of handmade paper. My heart skipped a beat, at the sight of the message that surfaced out of thin air, I carefully opened the folds to read the message it held.

"The Alpha & the Omega" ... is all it said. That was all it was, all this while, easy & effortless. Truly, the beginning & the end.

Faux Peacock

He had been in a foul mood all day, kicking up a storm, cussing his heart out. I had no idea, what it was that had him twisted in a knot.

Poor pup dopey had gotten kicked a few times already; the next kick and Shraaz would lose a chunk of his foot. I was very sure. Any more cussing and a snapped head, that’s what he would have. Of that I was doubly sure.

Shraaz went to the cupboard, it had been in the family through many generations, seen many a skeletons. When one has lived so long, nothing really ever shocks. He pulled out an old tin box, it held candy once, the fading print last of its memories of better, sweeter days. Shraaz now pulled out a tuft of fuzz, a five strand hair piece. It looked like something the cat brought in. It was his prized possession. The men in his family, up until four generations before him had worn the bit with great pride. It had seen better days, days when the strands were many more.

With his preciousness held gently in the palm of his hands, Shraaz pulled out a can of silver spray. Like an artist working on his masterpiece, he sprayed across the strands with utmost precision. Out came the tube of glue , “ Stick ‘em up Pardner”, the energies looked like they were brightening up, all ready to cut through the gloom set by the Shraaz-ness all morning.

The glue went onto the fuzz... he slapped it onto his scantily clad head. The foul mood was all magically gone. The furry silver crown had brought out the peacock in Shraaz. With his silver fringe, the shining glory, he strutted around in circles, arrogance dripping all over.

It was a difficult choice, didn’t quite know what I liked better, his crass or the royal, pain in the rear end arrogant version.

Shraaz was in all surety the last who would use the head piece.

A silver crown is all that’s required to change the drama? A piece of magic ... did it do the exact same thing five generations in a row?

How can a harmless piece of nothing become a piece of program so vital to ones existence? I wonder... I wonder about my own program peacock, that vestigial bit of my psyche which has overstayed its visit. Time for the faux peacock hunt!

Peacock Man by John Coulthart

Mighty Cherokee

Voices streamed from the room outside, sounded like visitors, a friend. It sounded like her.

I thought she had been haunting my dreams, but this one wasn’t a dream. Every time I sensed her presence, she left me shaken. The experience, with time, had become less emotional, but I was yet to figure why she was always around , that bothered me.

Well, think about it, if she wasn’t around for a reason, she would have disappeared into the scenery, I would have never noticed her. But this one, yes, she was always there, standing around silently most times, being the devil’s advocate the other times. The chink in my link, who I knew would never harm me, but still bothered me. I am annoyed. I have to figure this out.

I am Cherokee , the mighty Cherokee. I cannot be bothered. I should never be bothered.

My room was dark.

How did it get so dark? How long had I been asleep, I wondered

I felt around for the light switch, turned it on... No illumination... I hit the button a few times hoping that it would work. No such luck.

Why do we always believe that hitting the button a gazillion times will make the broken work!? I still haven’t figured that one out.

Maybe she could help. Is that what she was here for? ...To be my oracle!?

The light was out for now. No one ever gets anything right around here . I would have to tackle this too on my own . What would happen to this place if I wasn’t around... sigh!

Sounds like a job for Miiighty Cherokee... Cherokee will save another day! Cherokee Powerrrrrrrr!

What was with all the darkness anyways? Why could I not see? My eyes were wide open , I knew it. But not a peep, could I see.

I got up from my low bed, crawled some, stumbled some, as I felt my way around – A carton, table... no chair...SQWACK!..Oops...squeaky toy. Where am I ? Where am I going?

I tried walking towards the voices. It was all suddenly very far away. What had happened!? Had I gone blind?

This wasn’t right. I couldn’t see, but I could see - A silver, lining the darkness, kind of surrealism.

As I stumbled about, I don’t remember a speck of fear, a kind of peace had set in.

I found my spot and settled myself in . At that very moment, there she was. Right behind, I could hear her breathe.

I reached back for her hands, brought her arms around me. As her hands rested by my side for the shortest while, I knew I was safe.

Her arms my shield from the darkness around, I knew at that moment that I did not need to do it all on my own. Somebody had finally got it right.

I didn’t care about being blinded anymore, and the voices from the distance were gone. Her work here was done ... she blended into the dark.

I, Cherokee, went freefalling into the black...Mighty Cherokee finally learnt to fly

The Great Britannica

The Great Britannica is shutting its gates forever”, she said.

“This is our last chance to go visit... the last 80 days”

I sneaked a peek into the schedule in her hand. The yellowing paper broken at its edges, the old school cursive script a tint of brown- It all looked like it belonged to another time.

Why a shutdown?, I wondered

I don’t have a visa to get there, be part of the last 80 days. The line outside the consulate will be a long one. How will I get there? I want to be there! London!, My mind rambled away.

Wait! I grabbed the schedule off her hands –

“Flying trapeze artists, Fire eaters, the bearded lady and talking lions”, What is this all about?

Uh Oh! A jumped scene. Accidental tap of the Kaleidoscope ONCE AGAIN. Ugh! I need to stop doing this ever so often. It is very confusing to my reality.

The Great Britannica - The circus was to stay in town for two weeks. Twenty years later it was still around. It ruled our hearts and washed out our brain all yellow.

Everyone loves a Circus, we loved it too. We clapped our hands and shrieked in Joy as we saw the Jesters hit each other with giant hammers and cannon ball themselves to faraway places. We sat astounded as the magicians painted us illusions of another world. We loved the oasis of colour and joy, all things wonderful, we would never let it go, never ever.

We plotted and schemed to make them stay, and the circus soon spilled over the town. For twenty years while we stared in awe at all that was vibrant, we lost our own sparkle within. Every day that passed, we clung on tighter, for fear of losing that which was dear.

Soon, the town itself was a circus, with a string of aping monkeys, and folks jumping through loop holes for fun. When that stopped being the fix, we moved to human cannon balls. More brutal, much more entertaining.

Ho hum! All this sadism is not much fun anymore, so we took the toxic to another level. Our hearts soared as blood founts spurted all over; we had finally reached that state of pure joy. This must be what they call Nirvana.

The last of the Magicians lay in the circus tent, the final act by the troupe. Only that he wouldn’t conjure up rabbits and doves out of the hat this time, it was his time to go. As the axe fell to a grand finale, he whispered, The Great Britannica is shutting its gates forever. Last 80 days. The circus is moving to another town

For us the circus ended that day. We were satiated, in a state of bliss. Little did we realise that in the absence of the others, the circus was now us.

The aping monkeys had no one to ape now and soon gave up the ghost, the absence of loop holes made our everyday life more and more tedious...

We had to find our peace; he had to hunt once again. In the midst of the new found realization that the circus was still not dead, we started hunting for that piece of peace, we turned against ourselves.

True to the words of the master illusionist, The Great Britannica shut its gates forever. 80 days, a town painted red, the circus had moved to another town

The Monarch

“ I have been thinking about what hurts more the jar or the pins. And I think I can tell you that it is not the pins. Because the monarch in the jar is already dead when it comes to the pins. At some point things stop hurting; and from inside the jar, with eyes that see in all directions, maybe it is possible to look into the future, well beyond the pins, to where the compass in your head tells you that you need to go”

These lines from the movie PU 239, have been stuck in the crinkles of my cranium for a while now. They are for me, a story of the phoenix rising from the dead. A story that can be, only if the Monarch is ready to rise.

At some point things do stop hurting. But does all the hurt make the Monarch stronger or leaves him numbed, with a broken soul?

By the time one sees that glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel, is it possibly too late? Is it possible that the bonds of the jar and miseries of life have pinned one enough to not care whether the light at the end of the tunnel is a train heading in their direction?

We struggle through our share of cuffs and chains, and our eyes, through the glaze, see the beautiful future ahead. A beautiful future , so surreal, of another world, and the mind refuses to believe. And yet, with a future as an excuse we continue to tread - Eyes shut tight, fingers crossed “Please let it be true, Please let there be that heaven I was promised”

Leave all the fun for the "One fine day in some remote future ahead", now is about the challenges. Now is about following rules blindly and suffering, for some day else will be a day to rejoice.

When did we pin ourselves into these jars? How did we forget, it is within us to break ourselves free?

It is time for the Monarch to ride the zephyr once again. Time to break the Jar. The power to break free is in the Now, not some distant future ahead.

Will the Monarch rise from the dead though, will he take back his throne in the winds!?

********* 28th September 2010 *********

Came across the Big Fuzz Skeptical Caterpillar in my inbox, reminded me of my Monarch . It's quite an interesting tale.... The Big Fuzzy Caterpillar

Sleep Walking the Walk of Life

"Azure , when she was a baby slept off as soon as she got into the car", I overheard my mum say.

I smirked, thought of the many times I had heard that, not too long ago

"Azure still sleeps off as soon as she is put into the car" , I mumbled to myself.

~ JUMP SCENE ~

"Is that a new painting on the wall? " I asked my pal

"NO"

"How the heck did I never see this before?"

"Must have slept through it" , we said in unison

We broke into peals of laughter. Very Funny.

Azure became the butt of all jokes sleepy. Be it sleep talking for a "M&M Candy" breakfast in bed, being woken up in the middle of a guided tour - WAKE UP! Look around , you're on vacation or never being able to recognise what part of the city it is, even after having driven around the place a million times (all while in slumberland!)

Thirty something years of a daze. Some crystal clear moments of a beautiful dream like quality, the rest of it a blur. The sleep over the last few years gradually grew to become an issue . I never did decipher the subtle signs, the fact that my life was headed to becoming somewhat mechanical & pointless.

And while I sleep walked to the edge of the cliff, Miss life smacked another lesson into my face.

" Love sleeping with your eyes open, don't you?"

"No more subtleties then"

"Here, sleep , sleep and sleep some more until you decide to wake up!

Azure was cursed to stay in slumberland, until she decided to take the reins of her life in her own hands and tread forward with her eyes wide open.

Ever noticed, if you are allowed an addiction, sans guilt, you eventually do get over it!? Become more responsible about it?

It is ingrained in me, testing the boundaries, wanting to do more, wanting to do exactly what the other person said not to do or said I cannot do. More the restrictions around something , greater the thrills of putting it as an accomplishment on the records.

All that was accomplishment once, did not resonate with Azure anymore. It all seemed like it was someone else's, and the one thing she had become good at, "Sleep Walking", was now being forced upon her in all obviousness. Not something she liked very much.

But then, a curse is a curse, and sleep I would have to. There is no kiss from a handsome prince that would bring me to life this time. I would have to be my own true love now, and bring me back from the dead.

So I slept and I slept for many years thereafter, with an air of dark around me.

How could Azure awaken herself from death like slumber? Especially, someone who slept through her waking hours, how would she ever awaken in her sleep?

I have always loved the loop holes in fairy tales. There is always a way to break the curse. A fairy godmother, the prince or a toad. Always the means available when you have a purpose in mind. The portal to the happy ever after. Azure got her share of the loop hole too. Azure got her dreams.

So as I slept, my dreams came visiting, and every dream that came by awakened me some more. The dreams that I never could recall once, when they woke me up, now spoke to me as I slept. I saw the minutest detail of everything it showed me, my own personal bioscope to the world of the animate.

Everyday, Azure saw the picture a little clearer than the day before, everyday she focused some more. The day came soon enough when she saw it all crystal clear in her head. She finally saw what she wanted to see, and not the picture tinted by someone elses expectation or the urge to prove someone wrong.

I finally found the NOW, where I belong and could stay inanimate no more. I woke up to a beautiful dream, that was a dream no more, never to sleep walk again.

Mystery of a Plan

How do I make a five year plan , when I don’t even know what tomorrow will be like!? Yes, in my head, tomorrow will be identical to today. Not too many day- to - day variances when you are running in a full-fledged power saving mode. But then, there is still scope of a random phone call, a conversation or a reading that would trigger something to break the pattern.

How much into the future can you see? How clear is the future you see?

I have been asked to make five year plans before, but never been taught how to make one. Weird enough, I don’t think anyone I know has had a clue about it themselves, and if they did, they have guarded it like their best known secret. Well, that or I being the proud epitome of impulsive and random never bothered to ask. Plans never work for me, I always said.

Whatever the case, this one is now turning out to be just as obscure as gazing into the crystal ball and fortune telling.

This art of planning is something one is born with, I have started to believe. I surely missed the whole lesson on plans when it was being taught in some remote corner of the galaxy. As usual, I may have been up to learning some “more important” random lessons somewhere else.

With a void in my head where the lesson was supposed to be, I decided to try unravelling the mystery on my own.

It’s been close to two weeks since I started pondering on this one, and while it was triggered by a catalytic little incident, a plan chalked out in oblivion. I believe I may have cracked the code.

There are text books that will give you all the theory you need about plans, business plans to be more specific, but, it is only knowledge. You gain some, you lose some, it is just data, and is useless unless you know how to apply it. The true value is in its application. Life is surely more than planning about business, and I haven’t come across any text books telling me how to plan my life, a bigger issue that, compared to a Business Plan. Planning your life is something you just do along the way.

So we plan, a 99.9% in B School, work for a Fortune 100 company, get married by the age of 28, have kids by the age of 32 , make the first billion by the age of 40. Sure, this is a great wish list, but is there a detailed plan around this? Are the action steps well defined and do we have counter measures for the possible glitches. Most ideas fail because of a lack of proper planning. We leave half baked thoughts floating in space, hoping for them to find their way home. They eventually do find their way home, but they also bring along the 3 little pigs and the big bad wolf, because we let those thoughts wandering without specific instructions - "Don't talk to strangers"

We wonder where we are headed as time and again we encounter road blocks, twisted wishes and everything ugly. Wonder where we went wrong.

In time comes realization,even if your life seems like a chain of random events, a crack of lightening through the gray clouds over your head,one fine day, exposes the order in the chaos, brings into vision all that fits perfectly in the divine plan. While some seem to have a head start, eventually we all catch up.

A plan is all about being able to clearly see your objective, your cause. The machinery of this world runs on planning. We run our own personal universes, all our individual universes fitting into the master plan.

The towers touching the sky were built by architects who could imagine these tall structures speaking to the sky, no scope for mistakes, they imagined it all, the foundation, the concrete mix, the earthquake resistance, the tint on the glasses, they saw it all.

It is only with such depth of detailing can we plan, and plan right. There are no uncertainties, no coincidences. You design your own fate. You plan the future you want. It’s up to you to blind walk the road or rid yourself of the blind fold and be aware of every step you take and the consequences of each step, absorb the scenery.

Being an optimist is great. If you are one like I am, faith should come fairly easy. The difficult lesson though will be preparing for adversities. In our world, everything is perfect and when we are hit with a not so ideal situation, we break, and how. We eventually do rise like the phoenix from the ashes, but it would be so much better if we didn’t burn to ashes every time there was a fire and had a fire extinguisher handy, just in case.

A good plan is one in which we can clearly see our goal, and the path to our goal. The clarity of path includes visions of all possible road blocks and solutions to get past them. It is an exciting adventure, this treasure hunt, with codes to decipher and riddles to solve, each step taking us to a higher level.

Easy Peasy, Exciting? Now all we need is a purpose, a cause we feel for. An active imagination. And Faith, tons of it.

______________________________________________________________

08 Jun 10

I am still learning the art of detailing, and here's something that I found - a brilliant tool for planning. It's a step-by-step methodology for chalking out a plan. Check it out http://chrisguillebeau.com/Ideal-World.doc

Better Still! Chris Guillebeau's Guide to World Domination . I broke into a Joy Dance after this one ;D

Day of the Ogre

Aaargh! So the anti hero is back. For all the excitement over brilliance, and the moment of epiphany when everything made sense, the day after has been the day of the ogre. Too many questions. Demand for specifics. Trend Reports. Analysis. Blah!

“You are headed for brilliance”, that’s great! Care to explain what this brilliance is all about?

Now only if I could explain brilliance to the buffoon.

If I could I would.

I cannot. It’s personal. I decide I don’t want to explain. I don’t want to explain it to the alter ego which is me and I don’t want to explain to anyone else who doesn’t get it.

My buffoon is going nowhere, it will hang around for a while, sulk in some corner hoping for an answer, and head out to find another raw nerve to trigger. The others who aren’t restricted within the confines of my cranial cavity will also stick around or go. Such is life.

And that’s the reason why I work alone.

The line is worn thin from all that use, and I finally get it. A different story, for a different day. For now let’s just assume I am one of those superhero snoots who don’t believe in sidekicks.

My life has turned into an eternal dance – 3 steps forward, 2 steps back, half a step forward, back. Every time I holler in joy for a cipher cracked, the course produces a new set of codes. The closer I get to the treasure, the obstacles bigger, tower over me. These supposedly bigger obstacles however, are not very menacing any more. It’s either a purpose, now not too far from being unveiled that numbs out the fear and pushes me to march on, or I have played this game too long, worked my way through the glitches and the maze is now just a predictable set of pieces that instinctively fit in when one has worked on putting them together, too often, for too long.

Faith and a few tricks is all you need to get through. An ogre who plays devil’s advocate is a nice pet; mine does the Polly parrot perched on my shoulder calling for crackers and some things inane, as I find my way through the last of the patches on my eye.

Sometimes he’s your plain old defence mechanism, the other times an echo of the self desecrating rouge program designed to disillusion you, but most of the times he is an alternate point of view, one that keeps you from stagnating, brings you closer to you.

End of the Maze. End of the story you think? This one maybe. But surely the beginning of a newer , more exciting one. Race you to the cup .... see where the portkey takes us this time.

Electric Whips, Iron Man and Me

This isn't a movie review. Just a lowdown on what it did for me.

Don’t understand how anyone can wake up early to go catch a movie. It’s just a movie for God's sake! I did wake up though, yesterday was my first - the first show of a movie on the first day of screening, and what a first! I walked out of multiplex, with a skip in my step and a wide grin pasted to my face. Don’t remember the last time I was exhilarated by a movie like this. Don’t remember the last time I was ecstatic about anything like this.

My senses are all cranked up as I hear the whips crack in my head. Iron Man 2, with its brilliance and its flaws has left me very inspired.

I have seen creative genius before. Many films out there, alternate universes, trailers of the potential that is, a life that can be. A book is probably a better trigger to my imagination, it gives me the creative liberty to do what I want with the story, go as big and loud as I want to and I am not restricted by another’s vision. A film like this once in a while however does more than it was meant to do. A visual treat with its double dose of brilliance - the brilliance of a reality created by special effects you want to be a part of and the brilliance of characters. Characters that you cannot take your eyes off, characters that leave you wanting for more.

Whip lash aka Ivan Vanko aka Mickey Rourke leaves me stunned. A genius of a character and very misunderstood, at that. Like many geniuses out there, gone to waste over an inane lost cause. The grace of a man of that bulk cracking his electric whips to a beautiful dance. I want to play the whips like him. Feel the power, be one with it.

And of course, then there is the Oh so narcissistic genius of Tony Stark aka Iron Man aka Robert Downey Jr. Very few people who can be narcissistic like he is, and be loved for it. Anyone who recognises the brilliance within is allowed to be proud, he better be proud. I do not understand humble brilliance. Well, I do understand it, but it’s not for me.

I am a borderline narcissist and I don’t know how to say that without the pejorative hue that comes with it, but I am very proud to be one. Don’t know how one evolves like that when the programming is to live modestly, be humble, and stay within limits. But I am probably one only because of the program. To never forget the humble beginning, but to also not believe in limits anymore. Not made to be mediocre.

Ever felt power that left you overwhelmed, scared and in awe of the brilliance all at once? I am in search of that exuberance. In search of the electric excitement, triggered by the whip lash, I want to crack along and feel that power every moment of my existence.

I know what I want to be when I grow up Mommy... I want to be Tony Stark and I want to be Whiplash, all rolled into one. I want Brilliance.

I'm the super hero just out from my coma. Struggling to remember my super power. Learning to be the super hero I want to be.

What's the Point?

It’s a difficult task putting yourself in someone else’s shoes.

When you have a point of view, about something, or everything, the world around you with a different view is usually a bunch of morons who cannot think right. So even if you learn to not throw your disgust into the other person’s face, the sniggering oaf in your head gloats about its super intelligence and ability to see what no one else can see. The others, who haven’t learnt the art of keeping the oaf in hiding, just get down and dirty, sling some mud, have a fist fight.

The more I see these debates and hear the endless arguments – good and bad, right and wrong, I can’t help but grimace over the fact, how pointless they are. And no! Not an argument for my point of view here; it’s just a point of view, as right or wrong as any other.

As hard it is prancing around in another’s shoe, it's worse when the shoe feels as good as your own. What a dilemma once you start seeing a point in the pointless, and the point being, how pointless it all is. The realization that while you see a tree, someone else can only see the sea. All reality, just a different window. In the thick of a battle, when one has a point of view to defend, how does one react to the army of arguments disappearing in thin air? What does one do when there are no more battles to fight?

I do not know when battles became a purpose of life and I do not know how and why people became so toxic, so destructive, but I do know that while I ramble away, trying to make a point it’s already all pointless. I do not have a fight left in me. The oaf in my head has long gone, and a void remains. Echoing an argument that was, the demons slain.

What more does one say to add to the pointless, to make it less point-less!? Just be, and let them be.

Black Sheep, White Sheep, All the Right Sheep

I am made in the Image of the Big Guy they say, and I am not questioning that fact. Although, for a long time now, I have felt the complexes of being the underperforming child of a brilliant parent.

I should have made it big by now! I should have invented that super gadget that changed the history of the world! Learnt to teleport ! I should have mastered telepathy at least!? The last 9 years were supposed to be different. I was to be Popular, Rich and Famous by now!

Wait! WAKE UP CALL ... Aren't you all of that already?

Well alright, let me rephrase - I am more Popular, Richer and more Famous than I was, but not as much as I imagined in my head. The bright side though, my journey hasn't ended yet. Being popular, rich and famous however doesn’t matter anymore. I have wandered away from the herd. I am on a path to find me.

The non conformist is born, not because he wants to be different, but because conforming does not make sense anymore, because he realizes he does not know how to conform.

From my side of the fence, I believe it’s easy to conform. The herd works well with the set rules – Sit, stand, baa, bleat, bull. You program once and program well, you now have a herd that will work by the program, no questions asked for many generations to come.

Contrary to popular belief, being a Non conformist is a difficult task. When one strays from the norm of the herd, there are no points of reference, no road signs, no data...most importantly no one there when you look over your shoulder, to nudge you and tell that everything will be fine.

You either follow the system or get branded as the one who will never succeed and branded you will remain until you don’t find your personal herd that will follow you blindly off the cliff without a bleat!

While you learn to have faith (almost blind that!) in the Big guy, in yourself and the infamous gut, you are left with only yourself to follow. This is a lonely road. So you wander, and wander some more hoping to impress, with some radical, with some charm, with a promise of a land so perfect, so far away.

Here begins another vicious cycle. The non- conformist creates an army of conformists. Some water under the bridge, the faith in real has turned into slavery; mind restricted by rules, objective a blur. Zero maintenance. The assembly line is working like a dream. No one questions anymore, no one feels. Repeatability and Reproducibility is the name of the game.

There is always a herd out there that will provide you with the security blanket and accept you as their own. This, till your anomalies act up and then you’re on your own once again akin the pied piper leading little children and Rats down the cliff, and some nicer places.

An anomaly,that's what I've become. A world running at break neck speed. Emergency brakes. Collisions. I have survived the crash. Now to cruise along in my power saver mode, taking life as it comes. No more screeches in my head, no more rusty wheels. Happy times.

A system can only survive when the constants overpower the dynamics. This system of the blinded herds is on the verge of a collapse. The so called “anomalies” are increasing everyday. This time will go down in history, as the time when the will to live free was larger than the safety of a security blanket. A time, when large masses chose to be happy, and took responsibility for their own personal happiness and it didn't matter whether you were Red, Black or a Blue Sheep, for you were happy being just that. The time has come.