<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:blogger='http://schemas.google.com/blogger/2008' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933</id><updated>2024-09-08T20:45:38.568+05:30</updated><category term="The infrequent rant"/><category term="Difficulties in life"/><category term="Randomness speaketh"/><category term="Melancholic memories"/><category term="Hopes and wishes"/><category term="My life on a platter"/><category term="Family and friends"/><category term="Songs"/><title type='text'>The wrong road to a dead end</title><subtitle type='html'>A little taste of what it is like to be me</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>40</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-256107311454507322</id><published>2007-05-19T10:43:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-19T10:43:17.724+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="My life on a platter"/><title type='text'>To be yourself...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I&amp;#8217;m sure there are tons of times when you&amp;#8217;ve wanted to be someone else. Have a different life, different face, different name, just different the same. There are times when you just want to erase everything that has happened, and hope you could make a fresh start to things. When was the last time that you &lt;em&gt;wanted&lt;/em&gt; to be you?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It&amp;#8217;s easy to be a critic, to want things to change, to make them better (or worse). There is no courage in change, no revolution. Change is the natural order of things. Going with the natural tendency is the universal law of the universe. It&amp;#8217;s when you swim against the tide that things matter, isn&amp;#8217;t it? Taken in context of yourself, the &lt;em&gt;against&lt;/em&gt; will actually be going with who you are, confidently, and not wanting to change.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I&amp;#8217;ve recently stopped wanting to change. I&amp;#8217;ve always been sad, bummed, and all those synonyms for &amp;#8220;not OK&amp;#8221;, about the fact that I am how I am. I&amp;#8217;ve not liked myself a lot in the past. I&amp;#8217;m not saying that I like myself a whole lot now, but there are things that keep happening which tell me that maybe I&amp;#8217;m not at fault as much as I think I am. That maybe I &lt;em&gt;really&lt;/em&gt; am not a bad person, or screwed up. Maybe this &lt;em&gt;is&lt;/em&gt; how things are meant to be. But then again, I&amp;#8217;ve never been happy with the words &amp;#8220;meant to be&amp;#8221; :P&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;People speak the truth when they&amp;#8217;re drunk. Higher cortical brain functioning is reduced because of the dizzyness, and the person (unless he&amp;#8217;s really good at keeping control) cannot really control what he/she is saying or doing. They can think, but not control. So, when one is drunk, they actually say what comes from the heart. Atleast, that&amp;#8217;s what I&amp;#8217;ve done in the past &amp;#0133; I&amp;#8217;ve said the most amount of truth, &lt;em&gt;done&lt;/em&gt; the most true&amp;#8211;to&amp;#8211;self things when I&amp;#8217;ve been sloshed. Yesterday was one of those times when I wasn&amp;#8217;t sloshed (I&amp;#8217;ve stopped drinking, been sober about a month and a half), but a friend was. It was nice to hear how nice I was, and how things were just fucked up around me without any fault of mine. Well, it was tempting to just sit down and dwell in my own thoughts &amp;#0133; but my friend needed someone to keep control of him, so didn&amp;#8217;t think around too much. I did that after I got back to my room &amp;#0133; and I realised that I&amp;#8217;ve stopped doing one of the fundamental things that makes me, &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;. I&amp;#8217;ve stopped thinking too much of the future, stopped analysing the people in my life, stopped caring about &amp;#8220;what&amp;#8217;s going to happen&amp;#8221;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;There are so many things I&amp;#8217;d like to be. But now I realise that there&amp;#8217;s no challenge in becoming those, because it&amp;#8217;s easy. It&amp;#8217;s easy when you compare it to something that I &lt;em&gt;should&lt;/em&gt; try and be. So, I&amp;#8217;m forgetting all those things, and I&amp;#8217;m going to try to become something many people are scared to be. Something many people just can never be.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I&amp;#8217;m going to try and become me&amp;#0133;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/256107311454507322'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/256107311454507322'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/05/to-be-yourself.html' title='To be yourself...'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-6132179252582376198</id><published>2007-05-11T18:07:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-11T18:07:41.795+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Randomness speaketh"/><title type='text'>Long long hair: My attempts at a rock star look ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Ever since I came to college, I&amp;#8217;ve had a haircut just once. It was barely a haircut, more of a trim on the sides and at the back &amp;#0133; &amp;#8216;cuz Baba (father, for all my non Indian readers) wanted me to get it cut. He can&amp;#8217;t stand long hair, having minuscule hair himself. So, since I was home and didn&amp;#8217;t want to tick him off, I went and got it &amp;#8216;trimmed&amp;#8217;. Now, it&amp;#8217;s been almost 6 months since then, and my hair has been growing rather rampant. It&amp;#8217;s reached a length where anything at eye&amp;#8211;level is a little hard to see immediately when I look up.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have to constantly set it aside or tuck it behind my ear, but bloody dense thick hair. Refuses to budge from it&amp;#8217;s natural growth position, and hence, lands up in front of my eyes pretty much every 5&amp;#8211;6 minutes. EG lessons can be the biggest pain, since I have to bend down. Hence, everytime I look up, all I see is hair.  My freakin&amp;#8217; 20 cms long hair! (all values expressed here are approximate). &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I seriously envy people whose hair grows more towards the back, so that they naturally fall backwards instead of coming in front of their eyes.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;h4&gt;The rockstar look&lt;/h4&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Most of the rock bands have long hair (Pearl Jam!!), and I must admit, since I play the guitar, listen to nothing&amp;#8211;but&amp;#8211;rock, dress up grunge &amp;#0133; it&amp;#8217;s not too hard to see where I get the &amp;#8216;want&amp;#8217; to have long hair from. I could end up like &lt;a href=&quot;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_Stockdale&quot;&gt;Stockdale&lt;/a&gt;, but nah! That&amp;#8217;s not my style. I&amp;#8217;m more of an &lt;a href=&quot;http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eddie_Veder&quot;&gt;Eddie&lt;/a&gt; kinda guy. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Ofcourse, this is kind of a contradiction, since the Rock movement doesn&amp;#8217;t believe in stereotypes and doesn&amp;#8217;t care about rules or traditions. It doesn&amp;#8217;t care about order or a &amp;#8216;grand&amp;#8211;design&amp;#8217;. All we (&amp;#8216;the&amp;#8217; rockers) care about is that we enjoy ourselves while doing what we want to do. So, caring about looks shouldn&amp;#8217;t be in the picture. But I&amp;#8217;m a little weird that way! I believe everybody should look good (&amp;#8216;good&amp;#8217; being relative here), no matter what they believe or do.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Weather in this country doesn&amp;#8217;t help having long hair either, with the sun beaming down at you at any given time of the day. Long hair just works to provide a natural cap and shade from the sunlight, but then you start to feel hot in the head. Girls will know the feeling. You can&amp;#8217;t begin to imagine the feeling if you have short hair. No no &amp;#0133; believe me, you can&amp;#8217;t! &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Plus, the whole &amp;#8216;weight&amp;#8217; factor. All that hair &amp;#8216;will&amp;#8217; add some weight now, wouldn&amp;#8217;t it? I still remember the last time I tried to grow my hair, and Baba got it cut properly (he actually came with me to the barber&amp;#8217;s I think), I actually felt relief since my head felt lighter. &amp;#8216;Much&amp;#8217; lighter! I&amp;#8217;ve almost forgotten the feeling&amp;#0133;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, why do I still have long hair at the end of the road, when I am (very visibly, I should say) not comfortable with it? Because I like it. I like having long hair, and not looking like a freakin&amp;#8217; tomato when I walk out the door. I like having long hair because it adds a little something to the face. A clean&amp;#8211;shaven, trimmed hair look is for executives who are going to go for interviews. Long hair adds in a little element of attitude. I don&amp;#8217;t know exactly what that attitude says, but you always notice a guy with long hair amongst many.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It might sound lame, but I like my hair! :)&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/6132179252582376198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/6132179252582376198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/05/long-long-hair-my-attempts-at-rock-star.html' title='Long long hair: My attempts at a rock star look ...'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-5429716521174011112</id><published>2007-05-01T21:10:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-05-01T21:10:51.805+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hopes and wishes"/><title type='text'>Compromising for self preservation</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;There are different kinds of people on earth. Some are compatible, some are not. Although I have always held that notion wrong, it might be true in some part if more than a billion people believe in it. When you see that you are pretty much incompatible with a lot of people, what do you do? Do you take refuge in the cover of fate, and tell yourself that this is how things are meant to be? Or do you try to find out the reason? What if you find the reason that there is something wrong with you &amp;#0133; or maybe you find out that there is nothing wrong with you?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Do you ever try to compromise on your wants and needs from the people around you, for the fear that you might not have anyone left if you keep your &amp;#8216;wants&amp;#8217; up? Do you try to like people for the fear that there might not be anyone else? Do you &amp;#8216;make do&amp;#8217; with what you have or do you try to change situations? Are you active or reactive in your social life? But bigger than that &amp;#0133; is if you&amp;#8217;re &lt;em&gt;happy&lt;/em&gt; in your circle.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Are you just trying to get along for the fear of having to find new people all over again, meeting strangers, getting to know them, telling them about you? Are you afraid of putting all that effort again, and rather just carry on instead of trying to get any kind of fulfilment from it all? Isn&amp;#8217;t that what your social life is supposed to do &amp;#8211; help you relax? Give your opinions and thoughts an outlet?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Anyway, I don&amp;#8217;t have much right to talk about outlets and social lives, and maybe even social mannerisms. I don&amp;#8217;t &lt;em&gt;have&lt;/em&gt; a social life, which is why this blog exists as a repository of my thoughts and opinions for anyone who might want to read. But I&amp;#8217;d like to ask anyone reading this to do one thing. Do not &amp;#8216;go on&amp;#8217; with people just because you don&amp;#8217;t want to make the effort of finding real friends again. Believe me, the &amp;#8216;real&amp;#8217; friends exist &amp;#0133; there are people for everyone. It&amp;#8217;s just upto you to find them. And you never find anything unless you keep on looking&amp;#0133; &lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/5429716521174011112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/5429716521174011112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/05/compromising-for-self-preservation.html' title='Compromising for self preservation'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-918751615060523377</id><published>2007-04-27T16:33:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-27T16:33:59.364+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Difficulties in life"/><title type='text'>Some decisions are hard to make...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;But some are not. This is one of them &amp;#0133; I&amp;#8217;ve been under too much work these past days, and so I&amp;#8217;ve decided to drop one subject this time around so that I can do well in the others, especially ones which are pre&amp;#8211;requisites for ones next semester. Unfortunately, I&amp;#8217;m dropping Mathematics I, which kills off II. I&amp;#8217;ll have to do those, plus III next semester. Hopefully, I&amp;#8217;d have been done with Physics and Psychology, so that I have Mechanics and Maths I, II. It&amp;#8217;s going to become hectic, sure as hell, but I hope to be able to bare with it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;That said, things are surely weird on pretty much every front at the moment. I am a little tired of answering to people all the time, justifying why I do something, why I like something, why I say something, why I think something &amp;#0133; I just hate the scrutiny and the suffocation. I feel like I can&amp;#8217;t do something without someone coming knocking on my door asking me why I did it / said it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I&amp;#8217;ve faced the &amp;#8216;I don&amp;#8217;t know you anymore&amp;#8217; for the third time now. All because of something &amp;#8216;very&amp;#8217; small, or little changes that have happened because of situations and times. And then people have the nerve to say &amp;#8216;I&amp;#8217;m&amp;#8217; rigid. They cannot accept it, and don&amp;#8217;t even ask &amp;#8216;why&amp;#8217; that is happening. They just assume that it&amp;#8217;s a change which they can&amp;#8217;t stand, and start to pull away. Is that what friends mean to people these days? Casual enough to drop whenever something out of the ordinary happens?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I say that&amp;#8217;s bullshit.&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/918751615060523377'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/918751615060523377'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/04/some-decisions-are-hard-to-make.html' title='Some decisions are hard to make...'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-4105749709222411746</id><published>2007-04-25T23:26:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-25T23:26:31.661+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Randomness speaketh"/><title type='text'>Being a bitch</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I&amp;#8217;ve been bogged down with work for the past three days. Amount of work people charge 1000 bucks an hour for &amp;#8212; and I have that from college. It kinda sucks, and kinda blows &amp;#0133; all at the same time. I don&amp;#8217;t even know with what sick conscience can the college authorities put that kind of a routine upon us. Anyway &amp;#0133;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;So, I got one thing out of the way (my tech blog redesign). The second thing which I was quite enthusiastic about initially (Bunkometer) is lying in tatters. Don&amp;#8217;t think I&amp;#8217;ll ever finish it. Somehow I feel my energies are all depleted, and I can&amp;#8217;t do anything but sit in one place and watch movies, or listen to songs. Can&amp;#8217;t even rack my brains enough to try and play a game. I&amp;#8217;d love to get out, but my friends are busy with a college fest, which gets over tomorrow, so hope to get out day after and break this monotony.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I have begun to look at &amp;#8216;obsession&amp;#8217;s in a different way these days. Obsession doesn&amp;#8217;t have to make sense. It doesn&amp;#8217;t have to be related. It doesn&amp;#8217;t need to be fuel&amp;#8211;ed. All it needs, is a trigger. It&amp;#8217;s a twig that snaps in the brain. It&amp;#8217;s also the same thing that causes people to go insane. Obsession is just a lesser version of insanity in my opinion. So, it&amp;#8217;s almost the same thing there. Obsessions can lead people to do things they&amp;#8217;d never do normally. It gets them hooked to things they&amp;#8217;d not normally. Basically, break on normality in one&amp;#8217;s life and focus all energies, thoughts and actions to satisfy that one obsession.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It&amp;#8217;s funny how psychology lessons change some outlooks &amp;#0133;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/4105749709222411746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/4105749709222411746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/04/being-bitch.html' title='Being a bitch'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-7302288021545028551</id><published>2007-04-20T21:08:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-20T21:08:33.316+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="The infrequent rant"/><title type='text'>Screwing up</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I hate to screw up. I hate screwing up so much, that I hate the things that might get screwed up. Unfortunately, there isn&amp;#8217;t anything on earth that might not get screwed up. So I end up hating pretty much everything on earth. People like that are called &amp;#8216;screwed up&amp;#8217;. That makes me not like myself a whole lot, because I&amp;#8217;m screwed up. It just forms a really irritating and irrational, unfair circle. One I&amp;#8217;ve tried to get out of many times, but just keep going round and round and round &amp;#0133; no coming out without being dizzy.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Some say I am too hard on myself. I say I&amp;#8217;m messed in the head. Some say I expect too much, and hence I push. I say I expect too much, and I don&amp;#8217;t. When I don&amp;#8217;t achieve, I get angry. When I get angry, I (tend to) do things I shouldn&amp;#8217;t, a.k.a, screw up. What sucks even more is that the &lt;abbr title=&quot;Anything that can go wrong, will&amp;#0133;&quot;&gt;Murphy&amp;#8217;s law&lt;/abbr&gt; kicks in full gear, and things just begin to break down. It&amp;#8217;s in those times that the disorientation makes me walk around in a daze, not knowing what to do. I don&amp;#8217;t know if dependence on people is a good thing. You get hurt much more that way.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nothing is perfect. I think we&amp;#8217;ve managed to establish that fact really well. Trying to keep something going properly is as hard a task as you can find. You never know what someone might say or do that will throw a spanner in the works, which will wedge itself in a place where you cannot put your hand and not hurt it. I think it&amp;#8217;s just a steaming pile of cowshit when someone says &amp;#8220;Just be happy&amp;#8221;. Yeah! It&amp;#8217;s seriously much easier said than done. I can&amp;#8217;t go a week with something not bothering me to limits which I can&amp;#8217;t tolerate, even if people around me don&amp;#8217;t get to know. &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I got 6+2 exams due next week &amp;#0133; in 5 days. That, and 2 assignments. Think of the amount of work that&amp;#8217;s on my ass, which I have to get out and try to score full marks in. What is &amp;#8220;sane&amp;#8221; about any of this? How can &amp;#8216;intelligent&amp;#8217; people come up with a system, which only screws around with students? I hate the system &amp;#0133;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It just sucks man ... that&amp;#8217;s all I can say.&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/7302288021545028551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/7302288021545028551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/04/screwing-up.html' title='Screwing up'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-3183428070306673707</id><published>2007-04-14T13:25:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-14T13:25:03.876+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Songs"/><title type='text'>Lips of an angel</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Honey why you calling me so late?&lt;br /&gt;It&#39;s kinda hard to talk right now.&lt;br /&gt;Honey why are you crying? Is everything okay?&lt;br /&gt;I gotta whisper &amp;#8216;cause I can&amp;#8217;t be too loud&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well, my girl&amp;#8217;s in the next room&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish she was you&lt;br /&gt;I guess we never really moved on&lt;br /&gt;It&#39;s really good to hear your voice say my name&lt;br /&gt;It sounds so sweet&lt;br /&gt;Coming from the lips of an angel&lt;br /&gt;Hearing those words it makes me weak&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And I never wanna say goodbye&lt;br /&gt;But girl you make it hard to be faithful&lt;br /&gt;With the lips of an angel&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It&#39;s funny that you&amp;#8217;re calling me tonight&lt;br /&gt;And, yes, I&amp;#8217;ve dreamt of you too&lt;br /&gt;And does he know you&amp;#8217;re talking to me&lt;br /&gt;Will it start a fight&lt;br /&gt;No I don&amp;#8217;t think she has a clue&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Well my girl&amp;#8217;s in the next room&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I wish she was you&lt;br /&gt;I guess we never really moved on&lt;br /&gt;It&#39;s really good to hear your voice say my name&lt;br /&gt;It sounds so sweet&lt;br /&gt;Coming from the lips of an angel&lt;br /&gt;Hearing those words it makes me weak&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And I never wanna say goodbye&lt;br /&gt;But girl you make it hard to be faithful&lt;br /&gt;With the lips of an angel&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It&#39;s really good to hear your voice say my name&lt;br /&gt;It sounds so sweet&lt;br /&gt;Coming from the lips of an angel&lt;br /&gt;Hearing those words it makes me weak&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And I never wanna say goodbye&lt;br /&gt;But girl you make it hard to be faithful&lt;br /&gt;With the lips of an angel&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;And I never wanna say goodbye&lt;br /&gt;But girl you make it hard to be faithful&lt;br /&gt;With the lips of an angel&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Honey why you calling me so late?&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/3183428070306673707'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/3183428070306673707'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/04/lips-of-angel.html' title='Lips of an angel'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-7580839903494303958</id><published>2007-04-07T14:25:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-07T14:27:48.957+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="My life on a platter"/><title type='text'>Satisfaction</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Today I learnt a valuable lesson from a friend. I don&amp;#8217;t think the person in question (Pratyush Jalan) even realises it &amp;#0133; I take his name because I want to chronicle who it is rather than leave it to memory for later and forgetting it. The lesson I learnt is that the ultimate satisfaction is always gained by helping out, not by getting a cheap thrill at someone elses clueless&amp;#8211;ness. Now, I don&amp;#8217;t do that anyway. But some times in the past, I have. And I wish I had seen this back then&amp;#0133; really!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The simple act of answering to the point, when asked something; not throwing any useless comments, and frustrating someone even more; and genuinely &amp;#8220;wanting&amp;#8221; to help out (he actually had to drop explaining to finish his own solution, and then at the end, without me asking again, asked if I got it or not, and then proceeded to explain again) is enough to make someone feel good, even if it comes out fruitless at the end.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I think this is one of the simple people courtesy that a lot of us lack. The ability to give a simple, &amp;#8220;straight&amp;#8221; answer. It&amp;#8217;s very easy to be a smart &amp;#8216;aleck and give someone a twisted answer that might make others around you laugh. But &amp;#0133; it loses you respect. The person will now respect you a little lesser, and will think twice before asking you something. &lt;em&gt;This&lt;/em&gt; has also been happening to me for the past few days, and though I stuck about, I&amp;#8217;m beginning to re&amp;#8211;think my judgement.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I should be the last person talking about &amp;#8220;people&amp;#8211;skills&amp;#8221;, I know. But I can&amp;#8217;t help it, going through two contrasting behaviours like this. It&amp;#8217;s extremely heartening to see people who are willing to help, and I wish I could be like that without actually seeing it for myself, and doing it because that&amp;#8217;s how my nature is&amp;#0133;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/7580839903494303958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/7580839903494303958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/04/satisfaction.html' title='Satisfaction'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-8590622761364290585</id><published>2007-04-06T15:59:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-06T16:06:31.613+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Songs"/><title type='text'>Raindrops...</title><content type='html'>Raindrops keep fallin&amp;#8217; on my head&lt;br /&gt;And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed&lt;br /&gt;Nothin&amp;rsquo; seems to fit&lt;br /&gt;Those raindrops are fallin&amp;#8217; on my head, they keep fallin&amp;#8217;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I just did me some talkin&amp;#8217; to the sun&lt;br /&gt;And I said I didn&amp;#8217;t like the way he got things done&lt;br /&gt;Sleepin&amp;rsquo; on the job&lt;br /&gt;Those raindrops are fallin&amp;#8217; on my head, they keep fallin&amp;#8217;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there&amp;#8217;s one thing I know&lt;br /&gt;The blues they send to meet me won&amp;#8217;t defeat me&lt;br /&gt;It won&amp;#8217;t be long till happiness steps up to greet me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raindrops keep fallin&amp;#8217; on my head&lt;br /&gt;But that doesn&amp;#8217;t mean my eyes will soon be turnin&amp;#8217; red&lt;br /&gt;Cryin&amp;rsquo;s not for me&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lsquo;Cause I&amp;#8217;m never gonna stop the rain by complainin&amp;rsquo;&lt;br /&gt;Because I&amp;#8217;m free&lt;br /&gt;Nothin&amp;rsquo;s worryin&amp;#8217; me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;[trumpet]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It won&amp;#8217;t be long till happiness steps up to greet me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Raindrops keep fallin&amp;#8217; on my head&lt;br /&gt;But that doesn&amp;#8217;t mean my eyes will soon be turnin&amp;#8217; red&lt;br /&gt;Cryin&amp;rsquo;s not for me&lt;br /&gt;&amp;lsquo;Cause I&amp;#8217;m never gonna stop the rain by complainin&amp;rsquo;&lt;br /&gt;Because I&amp;#8217;m free&lt;br /&gt;Nothin&amp;rsquo;s worryin&amp;#8217; me</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/8590622761364290585'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/8590622761364290585'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/04/raindrops.html' title='Raindrops...'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-5311857331354927276</id><published>2007-04-06T12:57:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-06T13:01:50.178+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Melancholic memories"/><title type='text'>Why did it end ...</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;We shared a minute&lt;br /&gt;which lasted months&lt;br /&gt;we spent them together&lt;br /&gt;the happiest of my life&lt;br /&gt;but now I can&amp;#8217;t even see your eyes,&lt;br /&gt;atleast, once there was love there&amp;#0133;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;We pass each other,&lt;br /&gt;with nothing between us,&lt;br /&gt;not even a look or a smile,&lt;br /&gt;a word or a jibe,&lt;br /&gt;no care or feel,&lt;br /&gt;but, once there was love there&amp;#0133;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I still like you,&lt;br /&gt;wait &amp;#0133; maybe even love you,&lt;br /&gt;but what does it mean,&lt;br /&gt;if you don&amp;#8217;t see it?&lt;br /&gt;I know you couldn&amp;#8217;t care less,&lt;br /&gt;but, atleast there once was love there &amp;#0133; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I wish those days wouldn&amp;#8217;t have passed,&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to do so many things different,&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to tell you what you felt like,&lt;br /&gt;just next to me,&lt;br /&gt;even if just in my dreams &amp;#0133;&lt;br /&gt;now, just a memory stays,&lt;br /&gt;in a place, where love was there &amp;#0133;  &lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now there is nothing to say,&lt;br /&gt;nothing to do or feel,&lt;br /&gt;the best is gone, faded away,&lt;br /&gt;the worst is all that&amp;#8217;s real,&lt;br /&gt;all I feel is a deserted strain,&lt;br /&gt;and there was once love there &amp;#0133; &lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/5311857331354927276'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/5311857331354927276'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/04/why-did-it-end.html' title='Why did it end ...'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-6726637141047401763</id><published>2007-04-06T11:57:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-06T11:57:24.559+05:30</updated><title type='text'>I am an atheist</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Yep! I&amp;#8217;m not scared to start up a debate (partly &amp;#8216;cuz the comments are closed), but if there was a comparison to be made, them I&amp;#8217;m like a catholic of atheists :P I strictly &lt;em&gt;don&amp;#8217;t&lt;/em&gt; believe in the concept of a God and the fact that there is a superior power looking upon us, wishing and doing all it can for our well being, &lt;strong&gt;and&lt;/strong&gt; the fact that everything that is to happen in my life has been pre&amp;#8211;decided to a certain limit, if not completely.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;As it turns out, majority of the geeks are atheists. I&amp;#8217;m a geek, and very much so. They also say that intelligent people are atheists because they rather apply their knowledge and find a tangible reason for everything happening around them than simply attribute it to a &amp;#8216;God&amp;#8217; and pass on it. I&amp;#8217;m not saying I&amp;#8217;m intelligent to the level where I want to go hunting for an answer, but I surely &lt;em&gt;think&lt;/em&gt; there is a better explanation than God for things that happen around us. As a friend once said, &amp;#8220;For the things that can&amp;#8217;t be explained, let them be that way &amp;#0133; no one is forcing anyone to find out the &amp;#8216;why&amp;#8217; for everything&quot;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;If people really think that chanting one three letter word day in and day out is going to enrich their lives, make them richer, happier, and give meaning to everything &amp;#8216;them&amp;#8217;, then I don&amp;#8217;t think there exist greater fools than them, and even if there was a God, he/she&amp;#8217;d (I&amp;#8217;m not gender biased) would be laughing at them by now. What enriches your life, and gives it meaning is what you do with it, and how you polish it over a period of time with embellishments of experience and deeds.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;If you screw up, blame it on yourself. If you do well, give yourself credit &amp;#0133; as simple as that. Why do you need to look to some external being (who you have never seen or heard) for strength, when the whole concept of being a human is to gain strength from the people who love and care about you. The whole concept of a support system gets killed if you want to look at this perspective, which gives the term &amp;#8220;self&amp;#8211;sufficient&amp;#8221; a whole new dimension.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Open your eyes people &amp;#0133;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/6726637141047401763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/6726637141047401763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/04/i-am-atheist.html' title='I am an atheist'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-3712149392735096072</id><published>2007-04-01T21:22:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-04-01T21:22:33.000+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hopes and wishes"/><title type='text'>Better man</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Showing oneself for what you are is probably a mistake today. Sometimes, it&amp;#8217;s better to be hidden &amp;#0133; it&amp;#8217;s better to &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; let people know what you are like, what you&amp;#8217;re thinking, what you&amp;#8217;re doing, what you mean, what you&amp;#8217;re feeling. When no one knows what you are like, you can easily &amp;#8220;not care&amp;#8221; about them and not let them get involved or (un)intentionally hurt you. This would also isolate your ass on earth, but hey, what doesn&amp;#8217;t have a side-effect?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I&amp;#8217;ve reached a simple conclusion. You might have heard it from other people &amp;#0133; I did too, but never believed them. After all, if I started believing everything I heard, I wouldn&amp;#8217;t be what I am today (that isn&amp;#8217;t necessarily a good thing). Anyway, so the thing is that, &amp;#8220;love&amp;#8221; comes to you when you stop looking for it. Apparently.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;My question to that however is, how do you know when you&amp;#8217;re &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; looking for love? Do you look at a girl and think &amp;#8216;What should I have for lunch today?&amp;#8217; Is that how? I personally look at someone of the opposite sex, and the first thought that crosses my mind is whether she has a pleasant face or an air, a balanced stance or a whatever&amp;#8211;is&amp;#8211;comfortable one, clothes she can carry off or wearing to look &amp;#8220;cool&amp;#8221; and in with her surroundings. Every little detail gives away a part of one&amp;#8217;s personality, but only if you know what to infer out of an observation. I&amp;#8217;ve been lately missing the mark however.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;If there was a way to elevate yourself above the earth, just disappear from everywhere, without leaving a single trace of your existence &amp;#0133; what you take it? Do you consider yourself valuable to this planet, to the people who you know (and who know you), to your surroundings? With how much certainty can you say how many people in your life actually value you? I suck at that too &amp;#0133; and for that reason I&amp;#8217;ve been taken in by people I shouldn&amp;#8217;t have, and not cared enough for the people I should have. I have somehow been the worst judge of character, person, personality and actions for about 20% of the time in the past, which has magnified and still affects my daily life.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I want to change it all, and try and become a better person. One free from prejudice, hate and vengeful thoughts. I know that it&amp;#8217;s very hard to do, and if I achieve that, I&amp;#8217;ll reach the so&amp;#8211;called stage of &amp;#8220;enlightenment&amp;#8221;. I evidently don&amp;#8217;t believe in that, but I do believe that achieving something of that nature will make me a person more at peace with things around him. I&amp;#8217;ll be able to &lt;em&gt;not&lt;/em&gt; dwell in so much of theory, and apply myself even more practically.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I somehow hear a tiny voice in my head jeering &amp;#8220;High Hopes!&amp;#8221;&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/3712149392735096072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/3712149392735096072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/04/better-man.html' title='Better man'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-6378772076932505440</id><published>2007-03-28T16:48:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-28T16:50:18.516+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="The infrequent rant"/><title type='text'>Fixing your view</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I think it is very possible for someone to hold a rather &amp;#8216;high&amp;#8217; opinion about themselves. Not just possible &amp;#0133; but easy as well. Which throws articles like &lt;a href=&quot;http://www.scribd.com/doc/8778/Why&amp;#8211;Intelligent&amp;#8211;People&amp;#8211;Tend&amp;#8211;To&amp;#8211;Be&amp;#8211;Unhappy&quot;&gt;these&lt;/a&gt; a little off balance, since a person trying to evaluate him/herself might have a wrong opinion about themselves. For example, I consider myself an &amp;#8216;above average&amp;#8217; person (being &lt;em&gt;very&lt;/em&gt; modest here), intellectually, as compared to the general crowd.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now, if I&amp;#8217;m right about that, it would explain my nature, and why I&amp;#8217;m not good with people (since that writer is a sociologist, I&amp;#8217;ll take it to be somewhat correct). But that would also mean that I really am intelligent above other people. That makes me have an &amp;#8216;air&amp;#8217; about myself, which is not considered good anyway. You see what I mean? There is no way I can win here.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;There should be a good way to judge yourself, by yourself, without having other people tell you how you are and then you consolidating your decisions based on what you get from those opinions. You know what they say about opinions, don&amp;#8217;t you &amp;#0133; How can you keep a rational viewpoint about &amp;#8216;yourself&amp;#8217;?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I need to learn how to do that &amp;#0133; honestly!&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/6378772076932505440'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/6378772076932505440'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/03/fixing-your-view.html' title='Fixing your view'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-4410238119248906808</id><published>2007-03-23T18:14:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-23T18:14:23.636+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Melancholic memories"/><title type='text'>Who controls the past now, controls the future</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;&amp;#0133;I just love that song!&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Sometimes I want to go back to Summer school, Australia, and just relive those 2 weeks all over again. I wish to be there among all the nice people I got to know, enjoy music, the Apples (the computers, not the fruits), the weather, the gardens, the &lt;abbr title=&#39;Junior Common Room&#39;&gt;JCR&lt;/abbr&gt;, the piano &amp;#0133; Don&amp;#8217;t even get me started on Ace High! :(&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;It&#39;s strangely warm to just live in the past. I&amp;#8217;ve said that I try to live in the moment, but the more I try to believe that, the harder it seems to get for me to do that. The urge to want to change things I did back then, to shape an alternate present and future, an alternate &lt;em&gt;me&lt;/em&gt;, is too tempting.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Now, I&amp;#8217;ve just about reached another stability point with the people in college, and am glad. I hope not to jinx it though. Sometimes, it is good when nothing is happening and things are just lying stagnant. You get some breathing room and time, to think about what has gone and what is going to come. To brood and repent, and plan and motivate. To work up a determination.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;... I&amp;#8217;d gladly choose to sleep over it!&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/4410238119248906808'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/4410238119248906808'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/03/who-controls-past-now-controls-future.html' title='Who controls the past now, controls the future'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-7475968785309419018</id><published>2007-03-17T09:40:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-17T09:48:26.840+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Melancholic memories"/><title type='text'>Who will cry when you die?</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;We walk in and out of people&#39;s lives all the time. Living our meaningless/ful existences, we don&#39;t realise how and when we might affect someone else&#39;s life enough to change a part, or maybe the whole of it. Hopefully, some of these changes are for the good. There is no one who has seen nothing but misery in their lives, or someone who has only seen happiness. It&#39;s what you choose to remember about it that makes a difference.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Today, I find it not odd that there is no-one to ask me where I am, or how I am doing except my parents. Being away from home, that doesn&#39;t work out too well either. But I know that I&#39;ve made situations for myself this way, and that I don&#39;t &#39;try&#39; to help it. I am &#39;so&#39; not a people&#39;s person, or even remotely social. Even though I step out these days sometimes, that still doesn&#39;t mean things change. It&#39;s hard to change someone&#39;s nature, especially when you don&#39;t know them. I guess &#39;care&#39; is a secondary factor here...&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Some of the best things that happen to you almost always have a negative beginning... or a -ve end. Either way, you&#39;re not to happy at some point of time, until you begin to see what good it did for you. But, is this the other way around? Are you happy at the beginning or end of something relatively bad? I have been happy, but wasn&#39;t by the end of something like this. I&#39;m just generally not a happy person I guess. It&#39;s the whole thing related to introvertedness. I have a list of characteristics that psychologists attribute to that behaviour. Such cold hearted methodical machines they are ... not understanding the problem of every individual as a different and unique problem. They treat everyone as the same.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Such broken thoughts on a Saturday morning when I should be in college. Sheesh ...&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/7475968785309419018'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/7475968785309419018'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/03/who-will-cry-when-you-die.html' title='Who will cry when you die?'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-1895462940695265043</id><published>2007-03-14T15:30:00.000+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-14T15:38:14.753+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="The infrequent rant"/><title type='text'>Passion</title><content type='html'>Must passion be restricted to oneself? Why do people think that it&#39;s wrong to go public with what you like. They give weird reasons like &#39;Seeking validation&#39;, &#39;It&#39;s not a passion anymore&#39;, and what not. If someone likes to paint, and they start painting for people, to be known for what they do, doesn&#39;t it still remain a valid passion? A hobby?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not everyone likes to keep stuff they like to themselves. There are many who like to show off to the world something they&#39;re proud of. I don&#39;t think (sincerely) there is anything wrong with showing (within certain limits). There are many things. Music, art ... it can even be a person. If you&#39;re proud of your friends, you can always proudly introduce them to other people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It&#39;s not everyday that you get to meet passionate people, and I feel bad for people who don&#39;t have a drive, a motivation, a passion in their lives. They lack the soul ingredient which makes life worth living. The lack the &#39;thing&#39; in their life. If you take away the less important things from them, they&#39;ll lose 70% of their being, because they &#39;don&#39;t&#39; have that &lt;q&gt;important&lt;/q&gt; thing to give them release.</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/1895462940695265043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/1895462940695265043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/03/passion.html' title='Passion'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-3228288589206659654</id><published>2007-03-04T10:03:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-03-04T10:03:17.968+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Difficulties in life"/><title type='text'>Are you really over someone?</title><content type='html'>Can you really be over someone you love? Was it love in the first place if you managed to get &#39;over&#39; someone? I&#39;m quite at a crossroads at the moment. There are so many things wrong in the world which one can handle, but things like these are just not made to be handled. They cause too much pain and distress...</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/3228288589206659654'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/3228288589206659654'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/03/are-you-really-over-someone.html' title='Are you really over someone?'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-2939836054166459003</id><published>2007-02-28T23:42:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-28T23:42:14.510+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="The infrequent rant"/><title type='text'>Pretty useless!</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;I know that many people will disagree with me on this, but I really don&#39;t care. I think education in college is just getting a little ridiculous, with us having to study subjects like Engineering Graphics (one of the subjects I like the most out of the ones I hate), and Chemistry. I still have to figure out why the hell are we studying chemistry even though I&#39;m in computer science. I know the subjects are related, but could someone give me a real world example as to how?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;There is particularly no relation that I can see which will enable me to become a successful Software designer by studying chemistry. It wouldn&#39;t have been half as bad if the teacher had been good. We get stuck with a nincompoop assistant professor, who can&#39;t even say her subject&#39;s name properly (it sounds more like &#39;Chemishee&#39;). Maybe if the college took interest in it&#39;s students, we&#39;d take interest in the college.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Nobody likes to study, I know. Nobody likes college either, I know that too. But there are some subjects which I genuinely find interesting, and if I get to just do them (even if at an advanced level) I believe I&#39;ll be able to learn and accomplish much more than the forced studying and learning that we have to do. That &lt;em&gt;I&lt;/em&gt; have to do. I wish this was the worst of it.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The worst part comes giving exams for the said subjects. Since I don&#39;t like them, I don&#39;t study for them (not entirely seriously atleast), and when I don&#39;t study for them, I don&#39;t fair so well (surprise!). Nobody likes that, least of all me. I like to succeed in the darndest of situations, and here I am failing to do that. Doesn&#39;t push the morale-booster button.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;Someone give Pai a boot up his a**...&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/2939836054166459003'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/2939836054166459003'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/02/pretty-useless.html' title='Pretty useless!'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-6161948735026249262</id><published>2007-02-22T22:54:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-22T22:54:28.670+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Melancholic memories"/><title type='text'>Crosses the lonely mind</title><content type='html'>Sometimes I wonder, what right does someone have to hurt someone else. What right does someone have to make someone else unhappy. There is no &#39;not knowing&#39; or unintentional. Why isn&#39;t something &#39;good&#39; done unintentionally? How does this figure into the always holding balance of things to be, and things that are?  How can someone cause so much pain without even knowing that they&#39;re responsible for it? How can one person be killing another person everyday without even knowing they are dying.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is never a mistake. There is a first time of doing something wrong, which can be forgiven. There is never any appreciation. There is a first time of admiration. There is never any loathing. There is a first time of hate. There is never any jealousy. There is a first time of envy. There are never any friends ... there is an endless trail of people who come and go. There is never love. There is a first time of closeness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is a surreal feeling that drives the madness behind every human or inhuman act. A memory, a person, an object, a situation, a determination, a hate, an envy, a love ... each of these or one of these, can take a bizarre shape which drives people to do something. And always one of these things it is. For without a reason, there is no cause, and without cause, there is nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I sit here listening to a lonely piano play in the back, the tumultuous memories and feelings rush back of the days gone by, and how I&#39;d like nothing more than to be cocooned in the warmness of the past memories, the sunlight on the steps leading up to the world that I left behind to come to a cold and unforgiving new road through the bright and shiny gold gates of false promises. There is nothing more inviting than to pull my head between my hands, curl up in a ball of self satisfying comfort, and just cry. Cry not to the world, cry not to me. Cry not to any other person, and cry not to anything that can understand. I look for no sympathy, and I ask for none. I want none. I want my sanity. I want to be loved. I want to be hugged. I want to be heard. I want to be spoken to. I want to be appreciated. I want to be made to feel special. I want to be me ...</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/6161948735026249262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/6161948735026249262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/02/crosses-lonely-mind.html' title='Crosses the lonely mind'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-5121202485585452138</id><published>2007-02-18T22:57:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-18T22:58:05.174+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Difficulties in life"/><title type='text'>Association</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Oh sweet goodness how I hate association. It destroys a perfectly amazing romantic song, an awesome sunset, or a fantastic long drive. It kills many other things, but I have only faced these three. Something or the other always comes in the way, and the mind begins forming the chain of memories back to a hurtful past, or a melancholic situation, and you can&#39;t come out of it for a day or so because the impact is so strong. After all, the strength of the impact is the reason why you remember it even now.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;The mind doesn&#39;t forget, and that is something that irritates me. Why the hell can&#39;t it remember what we want it to, and forget the rest? I wish I were like Sherlock, and filter what I want to remember and what I don&#39;t. That would be the ideal situation, and hence, my life would be &lt;strong&gt;so&lt;/strong&gt; much more peaceful than it is now. Don&#39;t get me wrong ... I&#39;m quite fine. Except for the random bouts of sadness that just hit, and I can&#39;t do anything about it because we&#39;re a slave to our own freakin&#39; minds.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;You could say our minds have a mind of their own ... or something to that effect. It just sucks. Don&#39;t they have surgeries to get rid of memories? Or some drugs? Anything at all ... I guess it&#39;s the desperation to forget that drives some people to drink or do drugs. Most do it just for fun, but some &lt;strong&gt;need&lt;/strong&gt; it, rather than want it. I am nowhere close to that, and (hopefully) will never reach it, but I sure have sympathy for those some people.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I can feel another association coming up, thanks to the topic of alcohol ... Damn!&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/5121202485585452138'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/5121202485585452138'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/02/association.html' title='Association'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-5846065866616498034</id><published>2007-02-15T16:04:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-15T16:04:18.910+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Difficulties in life"/><title type='text'>Fuck the pain</title><content type='html'>&lt;p&gt;Backlashes are never a good thing. They bring back too many memories that I don&#39;t want to remember. It could be a song, a situation, a word, a phrase, or just a fleeting flashback which kills you slowly every second that you see it. It&#39;s so real that you could touch it if you just raised your hand and reached out, but you can&#39;t even move from the grief that grips you. I&#39;ve yet to have a positive epiphany.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I&#39;ve never been in a &lt;strong&gt;situation&lt;/strong&gt; which made me sad, so it&#39;s always situations which involve that one person who unfortunately still sticks around in my head. It&#39;s too long and painful for me to iterate everything. Just know that it wasn&#39;t pretty, and wasn&#39;t something I&#39;m proud of. The main grief being that there were so many things I could have done differently, felt differently, and I wonder if I could have ended up differently.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;My reality distortion kicks in more and more every time I get this epiphany, and I can&#39;t help but drown. Ever felt like just letting yourself go in the flow, not trying to do anything about it, and see how far you go before everything stops or you come back to normal? I&#39;ve tried that many times, and come out surprised at how numb it makes me to others problems if they try to tell me about it. Really, who could have a bigger brain wreck than me.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;This is probably also the reason why I don&#39;t like to keep my mind idle, because the more time it gets to itself, the more it starts to dig into past memories which I don&#39;t want it to open up again. Stupid brain.&lt;/p&gt;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/5846065866616498034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/5846065866616498034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/02/fuck-pain.html' title='Fuck the pain'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-5198245100038787259</id><published>2007-02-14T20:49:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-14T20:49:38.609+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="My life on a platter"/><title type='text'>Reality distortion</title><content type='html'>Have you ever found yourself fantasizing about a hypothetical situation, and highly exaggerating the positives or negatives of it? Today, I did ... and it was a little weird. I just hate not having an accurate picture, notion or anything to do with definites. Gray areas piss me off so much you can&#39;t guess or believe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The classic scenario that I usually find myself distorting is if my past could be changed to me being in a relationship with a girl I couldn&#39;t in the real world. There are times when I find myself imagining heaven on earth, by just changing one little thing. Other times, I find myself going through hell thinking about all that I went through because that reality didn&#39;t come true. It&#39;s a form of extremely heavy self-sympathy, where you sympathize with yourself for things that never even happened, but you&#39;ve managed to somehow convince yourself that they did. I guess there&#39;s a psychological term for it, but I haven&#39;t studied so much of it to know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&#39;m sure many people do it. Create an incoherent and completely mistaken sense of euphoria from an unrealistic hypothetical situation, by hyping it up for oneself. I don&#39;t know how wrong or right it is, but straying away from reality can never be a good thing. The more we stick close to the actual path, the faster we&#39;ll reach our goals. If we divert to the little nooks and crannies to see what there might be, or if we stop to think &#39;what if I would have found gold in the cranny I just crossed&#39;, we&#39;ll just torture ourselves even more, and not be able to reach our goals.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kick the dirt, and get a move on...</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/5198245100038787259'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/5198245100038787259'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/02/reality-distortion.html' title='Reality distortion'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-2940210398567031747</id><published>2007-02-04T15:26:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-04T15:30:00.495+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="The infrequent rant"/><title type='text'>Star wars + LOTR - quality + confusion = ....</title><content type='html'>You guessed it! Our very own lovable &#39;Eragon&#39;! I can prove it ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eragon = Luke Skywalker. The name comes from a bad pronunciation of Aragon.&lt;br /&gt;Brom = Obi Wan Kenobi after the 3rd episode.&lt;br /&gt;Arya = Leia. well, maybe not that defenceless&lt;br /&gt;Morzan = Anakin Skywalker / Darth Vadar. Only difference is that he is already dead.&lt;br /&gt;Galbatorix = Sideous/Emperor.&lt;br /&gt;Shruikan/Thorn = TIE fighters?&lt;br /&gt;Saphira/Glaedr = X-Wings?&lt;br /&gt;Dragonriders = Jedi Knights&lt;br /&gt;Magic = The force (makes dragons sort of midichlorians, and the force doesn&#39;t have physical effects)&lt;br /&gt;Empire = Empire (uhh...)&lt;br /&gt;Varden = Rebels&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those were the characters. Here are the situations:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eragon comes back to find Garrow killed, the house burnt down by Ra&#39;zac&lt;br /&gt;Luke came back to find his foster parents killed and the igloo like thing burnt down by bandits.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Brom took Eragon away to hide him and keep him safe from the Empire, while going after the Ra&#39;zac. Also trained him in the ways of magic and sparring.&lt;br /&gt;Obi Wan took Luke away to hide him and keep him safe from the Empire, and trained him in the way of the force and how to use the (oh so gorgeous) light-sabre.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Vadar takes Leia captive upon the Death Star, after chasing her right in the beginning of &#39;A new hope&#39;.&lt;br /&gt;Durza took Arya captive after a showdown in the forest right in the beginning of Eragon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eragon helps the Varden fend off the first attack by Durza and Galbatorix&#39;s soldiers, killing Durza in the process and freeing the Ra&#39;zac from his control. This turns out to be a bitter blow to the Empire, and gives the Varden new confidence and hope.&lt;br /&gt;Luke destroys the Death Star, confirms everyone&#39;s faith in him as a Jedi and gives the rebels new hope and confidence. The destruction of the Death Star begins the end of the Empire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Murtagh reveals himself as Eragon&#39;s brother, and in the process, Morzan as their father.&lt;br /&gt;Vadar tells Luke he is his father.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;hr /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yea, it&#39;s getting a bit too much for me too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not trying to undermine Eragon. It&#39;s a good book, and was fun to read when it came out. But the more educated I have become about fantasy and the whole genre, the more I&#39;ve read and seen other works in it, the more it comes out to be clichéd and overdrawn, not to mention over-hyped. I am still waiting for the third book though, but just to see how Paolini finishes off the story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;C&#39;mon, break the cycle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(P.S. Criticizing isn&#39;t really my thing. I know I can&#39;t write such a big book which has sold so well. But atleast I know and am not trying to sell horse shit to deluded kids who&#39;d fall head over heals for anything with dragons and magic in it. I&#39;m just angry he played the field.)</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/2940210398567031747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/2940210398567031747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/02/star-wars-lotr-quality-confusion.html' title='Star wars + LOTR - quality + confusion = ....'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-1037882619578099157</id><published>2007-02-03T19:11:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-03T19:11:32.756+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Hopes and wishes"/><title type='text'>RHCP and the push</title><content type='html'>There is something beautifully pushy to see genius at work. When you see a pianist&#39;s flying fingers on keys, you wish you could play like him. A guitarist flying fingers on a fretboard, you wish you could that. Some of us go ahead and try to do it. That is what made me pick up the guitar. Well, almost. I had always loved the sound of the strings being plucked and strummed, but then when I started listening to proper rock (around the age of 12-13), I could no longer play my favourite songs (because I played the piano and only that). So hearing such passionate songs, watching energetic videos pushed me finally take up the guitar and start playing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now when I watch a video like Dani California, I feel the same push to improve by leaps and bounds in short amounts of time, just so that I can perform like RHCP, an play with the life and vigour of Frusciante. I am not talking about the whole video, but the end when they show up as themselves, and they&#39;re just having an amazing time on the stage. I wish I had a band and could do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, it&#39;s hard to find people with the drive or the enthusiasm I have. Skills can be learnt, but enthusiasm is something you either have or don&#39;t. I am not going to try and sell the idea of being in a band to anyone. If they don&#39;t want to be in one, they&#39;ll not do justice if they&#39;re put in one. But it just sucks not to be on stage. I am too used to it. The rush of having hundreds or thousands people looking at you, and shouting with you ... it&#39;s like no alcohol or drug could give you. I talk from experience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Being a shy guy, I ofcourse am nervous before every performance (I&#39;ve given more than 10 of them), but when I&#39;m on the stage, a spine warming flow washes over and I just shiver once, and then it&#39;s gone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I&#39;m gonna have work overtime now to find people and get back on stage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&#39;Game time!&#39;</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/1037882619578099157'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/1037882619578099157'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/02/rhcp-and-push.html' title='RHCP and the push'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7304773936129263933.post-3437829690615893273</id><published>2007-02-02T22:10:00.001+05:30</published><updated>2007-02-02T22:35:59.750+05:30</updated><category scheme="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#" term="Randomness speaketh"/><title type='text'>How stupid!</title><content type='html'>I was trying to figure out why the &#39;Now Playing&#39; widget wasn&#39;t working ... it was such a stupid mistake I can&#39;t believe I made it! :(&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, atleast it&#39;s back up and running :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;Update:&lt;/b&gt; The script is interfering with Winamp functioning. I&#39;ll try and fix it, but don&#39;t bet on it. Hope it get the widget up and running again!</content><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/3437829690615893273'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7304773936129263933/posts/default/3437829690615893273'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://three-halves.blogspot.com/2007/02/how-stupid.html' title='How stupid!'/><author><name>Aditya</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/07141104189302561970</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpPJixmvBIc7Fj-8T25y8lVDpvgTv1Nil9j1KYdztznxc0pXSRzT6jy04x7EjsKgbzvYricEl75AbT5yqiARPh78uDYt5HIixi1VrsG23Vlr0ExUvZqnfH-fbQViRF9ro/s220/avatar.jpg'/></author></entry></feed>