sitting alone in my bed in our empty apartment I wonder how different my life has been from the people I see around me.
Though I am not from a very exquisite variety, the simple variations and differences that don't get appreciated in every group is what makes me unique.
The uniqueness of my character is often to my advantage, or so I believe always. But sometimes the obvious disadvantage of alienation and difficulty in connecting can be troublesome.
But as an experienced handler of situations, these just disappear.
The slightly different stroke of colours on this cat has given it a completely different life altogether.
I was reading this essay titled "What you can't say" from the much celebrated book "Hackers & Painters" yesterday night before bed. It talks about things that are considered taboo in some societies and eras whereas it is the norm in others. The essay cleverly traverses questions of the assumed morality that every era and every society wears as a mask on itself. I don't remember if I got to a point where the author asks anything to be done about it, but still a walk through the jungle of social customs is something every intellectual,every nerd, every wallflower and every introvert would have gone through.
hmmm I wonder if the previous adjectives are mutually exclusive or just inaccurate labels of people from the same pool.
As the certified "thinking idiot" around here, I can't help thinking on these silly things as well. Every simple thing around has to go through the machinery of thought process that my head dictates. Take it or leave it, it says to those who want me to change or tell me to not think about something when it has to be done with seriousness and passion. And who doesn't appreciate the pleasure of ruminating on crazy ideas that border creativity but usually get labelled as ramblings? Well, it must be those who want immediate results from the creative fellas, but can't spare them their space or peace. Move over, give some space! duh..
well, with that junk unloaded from my head, I can focus on writing the real articles that I was targeting from weeks ..with all the tough schedules of relentless journey into the distant wooods.. which reminds me of the famous line from Robert Frost..
“These woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.” I always felt these lines were pure blasphemy, but still liked and promoted people who went by it (studies have found that such people are quite sensitive in nature)
These lines are exactly those of a person tied to his/her responsibilities very tightly. On the outside such people seem heroic and morally 'correct'. But in a context where the morality of every action is to be considered w.r.t the reaction it causes, such lines of blind faith in ones' duties are troublesome.
Duties are a difficult thing to comprehend. Everyone accomplishes some or the other duties in their lives. I can write thousands of confusing lines and zig-zag thoughts can be generated about duties and rights. But here, I would just like to reflect upon one fact that duty is of two types. One is self imposed and the other is imposed by the society. Most of the people mix the two and usually the latter decides completely what the former is. But those of the readers who would have taken up duties onto themselves without any social beckoning would know what I am talking about. It is a nectar whose taste is unparalleled and no glorified duty handed down even by Lord Devendra's father Muthupattar would match the satisfaction it provides.
And to me, the woods which are so lovely,dark and deep, are naturally occurring duties. Not for sleeping in, but to live in. No promise, no responsibility and no duty is higher than being right to your conscience. Everything else vanishes into thin air in its unquestionable superiority.
And a thoughtful Dilbert piece to finish off the ramblings..
