Monday, March 9, 2009

Of Man, Machines, and Me.

Ideally, I would take this moment in time, in and around 4:30 AM on the 9th day of oh-so-springily-sweet March, to write about recession, the ongoing socio-political crisis in the Indian-subcontinent, the Bilderberg conference(just for kicks) or the pathway to Zen. But as fate(or your bad luck) would have it, I'm in the mood to ramble about myself and my distorted convictions. Exactly like my narcissistic, evil self had been doing so. So I shall do precisely that, and quantize my ideas into a stream of 0's and 1's, to be shuffled to and fro in a warped world with warped concepts of space and time. A tout le monde.
Bear with me, dear world, for someday my sermons will bring enlightenment to mankind. Or at least, end up being a sterling tribute to Aleister Crowly. *evil laughter, for effect*

Though this should have begun with what is next to follow, I don't care enough to care. You see, this blog has been dormant and comatose for a while, as I have been feeling like a wimp. Oh yes, a bona fide wimp who feels sorry for herself and asks for reasons to crawl out of bed and smell the coffee. A wimp who trudges around like a troll, grunts like a pig, screeches like that rusty iron hinge in need of oil, and instantly depresses everything she touches- animate or not. Not quite the Midas touch, but then, what do you expect from a troll-pig-rusty iron, 5 feet 8 inch thingamajig anyway? Oh, and sadly, the aforementioned thingamajig is very much alive and breathing, and happens to have legs to walk on. Talk about crappy, eh?

It's crappier. And you know it's crappier when your mom tells you to freakin' get a boyfriend to waste your time on. Yes. That happened.
It's also pretty crappy when you bang your fist into a stone wall for no good reason, and as a result, find yourself peeling the skin off your knuckles for amusement later. It's worse when the person you were aiming at, and who had the reflexes to duck right in time, acts smug about it.
But what really takes the cake is when you yell at your sardonically authoritative lecturer to shut the fuck up.
And because such ironies amuse me :

Stalin-in-a-sari : What do you mean you didn't mean to say that?
Me-all goth : I thought you were someone else. You can't blame me. You sound like a teenager anyway.
Stalin-in-a-sari : Of course I can blame you. You should be able to recognize my voice by now.
Me-all goth : I would, had I attended any classes.

All of this, while the person I was actually addressing laughed her insides out.

It is best if I end it at that, and conclude by saying that since that day, not a single assignment I've submitted has been "satisfactory" enough. You may fill in the blanks.
Also, at about a 2 month-rewind from this particular rendezvous, the same woman mistook me for a lecturer and let me enter class 30 minutes late, in her continued state of oblivion.


Didn't they tell you that things come around a full circle?
Yeah.. I always knew.
My life is a pinball machine for the irony gods up there. Gloat. Gloat all you want. And then go swat flies. Just to piss you off, I shall gloat with you. Unlike the wimp who needs a reason to crawl out of bed. I just wish I had a personal drill sergeant to kill me everyday. It's always harder to do it to yourself. Minus the masochistic gratification.


See, that's the tough part. Being human is the tough part. If it was always 0's and 1's, thing would be so very different. Being a machine would not only eliminate the possibility of turning into a wimp, it would negate the reasons to feel like one. Emotional detachment won't have to be a behavioral issue. Borderline, wouldn't be a personality disorder. The world would be based on logic, and logic alone. Squarer than square is. With sharp edges, as opposed to rugged ledges. Faith wouldn't mean placing your happiness in things beyond your control.

I think I'm jealous of my P-4, double-processor computer.
I also think I'm going to be brand new tomorrow. Not a wimp. Not a troll. Not a creaky hinge.
But the woman who dreams of ruling the world someday. And she will.

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