Zombies & Vampires

"An epiphany, yes. What else could warrant such profound thoughts?"

Zombies are not the same as Vampires. Here's why:

a) Zombies are dumb.
b) Zombies are slow.
c) They can be killed only by a headshot.
d) Zombies have no motive. They attack for no reason at all.
e) They are dead. (Yeah, this should have come a bit higher up but whatever)
f) When Zombies attack out of nowhere thay can scare you shitless. (Trust me, it's insane)
g) Zombies look like the dessert I left in my fridge when I was 4. (I swear there's purple mold on it)

On the other hand, when it comes to Vampires:

a) They are undeniably fast.
b) Vampires are alive/dead. (It's some weird quasi-state no one's quite sure of)
c) Vampires attack for blood. (I vant tu sock yur blud!)
d) Vampires plan attacks.
e) They can't survive sunlight. Or silver stakes through the heart. Or crucifixes. (Vampire + Sunlight = Crispy toast) 
f) They're not half as scary as Zombies. Sorry but fangs aren't exactly cool. Neither is flying around as a little hairy bat. (Think of them gay Twilight vampires to realize the truth in statement f))
g) Vampires are highly presentable. The slick black hair, cape, tuxedo- very classy indeed.

So yes, I repeat- Zombies aren't the same as Vampires. Making more of their kind by biting perfectly normal humans is pretty much the only trait they share. That and the fact they both feature in horror flicks. Then again, certain Zombies don't even have to bite- all it takes is a scratch, like the Zombies from Dawn of the Dead.

So the next time someone tells you that they think Vampires and Zombies are the same, ask them to think again. 

Oh and link them to my blog.

A Name in a Book I Don't Read Anymore

Friend of a wayward hour, you came
Like some good ghost, and went the same;
And I within the haunted place
Sit smiling on your vanished face,
And talking with--your name.

-J.W Riley

What's in a name? Is it just a random word, some random sound that you've been trained to respond to since birth? Doesn't it bother you that you never got a say in picking something that you'd literally live with and even die with? What's in a name, past that meaning, past that definition it gives your life, past that funny sound? Well...

Everything. 

Your name is your identity. It's the one thing that goes the places you go. It makes answering the 'Who are you?' question a bit easier. It's your phantom siamese twin. A one-one mapping, so to speak. It's your imprint on this world. After all, your physical presence isn't as universal as you think. Your legacy- it's all out there next to a funny bunch of letters on a gargantuan list, you know. And yeah, that funny bunch of letters? Your name.

But then again, your name isn't only yours to cherish. 

Let's look at it this way. Any given word- How many memories do you have associated with it? For example, in my case, the word 'chair' brings back memories of a Model UN and the chair of my committee. Surprisingly enough it drags along everything related to that particular event. The train ride to Delhi, the penthouse, the food, the conversations, the people...

Now you get it, don't you?

A name can mean a lot more than just your identity. Maybe it's someone else's keyword, a word they associate with their memories of a very specific person.

You.

Every mention of a name brings with it a plethora of instances- Pleasant, unpleasant, fun, boring, awesome, unforgettable, embarrassing. Unique for every person. Wow. There's so much!

And to think a name was no big deal. Naive, no?

You could forget everything else, but all it takes is a name to bring back that rush of memories you thought you'd detached yourself from forever.

I think I've forgotten the name, but then again I know that it's somewhere out there and that it's going to bring it all back to me. I fear the day that's going to happen but it's bound to happen, I'm sure.

I guess I'll have to wait it out patiently, keep my fingers crossed and hope it takes a while...

But yeah, till then, those names. That name.
They're all just names in a book I don't read anymore.

Step By Step

Do you ever wonder about your life? How far you've come and where you're headed? Don't you have a little picture in your head? The one that shows you were you want to be every time you're in doubt, when you don't know what to do, when you're not sure whether you are the person you wanted to be.

I think about it all. I think long and hard. At times I feel a deep gratitude towards everyone who's been there for me and helped me along that path. My parents and brother, my kindergarten teacher, my aunt, my friends... A long list trails in my head and it wouldn't make sense for me to put all the names down here. But on the other hand, I feel a vile, sinister loathing for everyone who's been a hindrance. No, I'm not going to be all noble and say that they helped me on my way in a different way and all that because that's not how I feel about them. I look back and I remember every little detail, and I remember everything I've wanted to say to them. Time has passed since and not all these grudges can be dug up again. Trying to do so would seem extremely foolish and I don't intend on trying. But then my selfish mind moves on to me. Enough time for the people you love and hate, it cries out, and then to me. It makes its motives very clear. Very clear indeed.

As a person I have changed over the years. From a kid who was more aware than he should've been, to a kid who knew exactly what he was doing and why he was doing it, it was an eventful first few years. Reverse psychology or not I knew exactly what people didn't want me to do, and I did those things whenever I felt like it. Impulsively. And it gave me weird satisfaction... No, I'm not writing this because it makes me seem like some wonder kid but I really did feel this way. Surprisingly. But I learnt so much along the way. How to enjoy reading, how to play video games, how to swim, and how to be patient, although it took a long, long time for me to understand the true meaning of 'being patient'. To wait and not think about the wait while waiting. Somehow it never happened... It's like how the first thing the mind thinks of when you ask it not to think about something is the same something it's not supposed to think of in the first place.

I had an intensity that I wasn't very proud of. Some things had to be some certain way. The velcro on my karate uniform, the laces on my shoes (although I solved this problem later by buying velcro shoes instead), the collars on my shirts, my security blanket. And I liked some things. Closed lego structures, never reading the last page of a book till I reached it, writing down stories whenever I felt like it, celery sticks, science kits. My mother poured her love into me. She spent her free time taking me to the library, picking out Frog and Toad books for me to read. She spent countless hours watching and re-watching Disney classics with me. She took me swimming, gymnastics, taek-won-do, soccer. I asked her to let me cook, "Once we move back to India" she said. "The buildings there are made of stone so nothing will burn in case something goes wrong". My father taught me how to play on the Super Nintendo, he taught me how to balance fun with work, and how not to talk too much or do too much in the presence of company.

I found it hard to get along with people. I was too judgemental. A couple of moments was enough for me to figure out a person, I thought. I had very few friends... although I don't really regret it. I'm not someone who depends on friends for survival anyway. But when I trust people I trust them a lot. Sounds cliched but it's true in a very funny way. I take lots of things for granted. I look back now and I realize that. I have no idea how that random bit of information fits in here but it's true, like everything else I'm saying here.

I remember the smells and sounds of places vividly. The smell of the basement of our Van Dorn Village house, the smell of the lawn, the musty smell of summers spent in India, the smell of mehendi, the smell of school after we moved back, the phenyl smell in the restrooms. Wow, it's quite overwhelming at times. The "Paaaaaaapaaiiiir" cry of the guy who took back used papers, the vegetable vendor's call, the bell of the ice-cream push cart. It's all in my head, almost as if it happened yesterday.

Once we'd come back to India for vacation and my mom put me in school here. I was pretty surprised that people wanted me to go to school when I was on vacation (Later I found out my mom sent me to school because she thought I'd be bored at home. God!). I was a part of their kindergarten class and had to learn the alphabet again. Mind you, I'd already started writing sentences at school back in the States. Padma miss, class teacher. Random kids, although there was one guy from near my grandparent's place with whom I used to hang out with. I still remember lunch on the first day I attended this "summer" school. My mom and aunt dropped by with a eversilver box full of grapes, and then my mom handed me a book with nice Disney illustrations on its cover. I opened it, and to my dismay I found ruled pages. I was used to finding Disney stories inside these kinds of books and this came as a rude shock to me. Why would someone decorate a plain old notebook so elaborately? I had no idea. I still don't.

I take a quick look at what I've written till now and I see everything's orthogonal to everything else. I had no idea how this post would turn out but now I think I know it's just an effort to try and figure out how the past fits into the present. Anyway I'll take it step by step. Part 2 is for another day.

Footprints on the Moon

Things always happen. Some things pass, but some linger on.

Sometimes, you hold on to something with every ounce of strength. Sometimes, you just let go of something without even the faintest struggle.

You cherish some things, you detest some. And there are a few you're indifferent about. It's only natural.

But there's always something you never let go of- You can't. You won't. Never ever.
That special something that's hidden somewhere deep down inside you. Oh, it's ok. You don't have to tell me about it! It's the "something" that counts. Keep it real safe :)

Well, I guess footprints on the moon last forever.
It's true.

Question

Why do I do what I normally do?

Is it for personal gain? Or is it because I like doing it? Maybe it's because it's who I am- I don't know. I just don't know. Inner turmoil can't be explained easily. It can't be outsourced either.

A fix calls for introspection. Introspection requires time. I require time. No, really.

One Order of Disorder, Please.

Do you like everything in your life nice and organized? Easy to sift through, easy to manage and not to forget, easy on the eye.

I do! Entropy is not as cool as it sounds.

I don't know about you, but I guess I take this order for granted. Which is bad, in a way. Because when the shit hits the fan and everything's flying around randomly I'm sure the realization that all the neat little stacks are gone is going to hit me a couple of orders of magnitude harder than it hits you (i.e assuming you don't really give a hoot about order, disorder and all that jazz).

When things go haywire it's hard to figure out what went wrong. "What set off the cascade?" is the first question that should pop into your head, but trust me, it doesn't get you anywhere. One reason leads to another and that leads somewhere else and then you realize your thought processes are as random as they can get. So then you frantically search for that dratted "Reset" button. It's good to reinvent yourself every now and then- It helps add a bit of masala to the mind-numbing existence that sets in once in a while. Take a chill pill, take things slower than you normally would, and things will become crystal clear.

I guess it's all about figuring out where you're headed. Oh that and the constant improvisation.

I should add- Disorder isn't all that bad... it's more like how you throw all the stuff out of your closet before putting things back in place again. You feel you're being sapped when all the stuff is lying around and you know you just have to put it back in place, but that good feeling you get once the job's done and everything's back to where it's supposed to be is immensely satisfying.

Unfortunately the tasks at hand seems gargantuan when disorder prevails over order. Damn it!
The prospect of a neatly arranged closet should help you pull through :)

PS : I have no idea why I wrote this vague post. My daily order of disorder, I guess.

The Banana-Sandwich Theorem

The Banana-Sandwich theorem states that it is statistically favorable, in a crowd consisting of a number of people of both genders, that a certain individual always ends up alone in a large, independent group consisting of members of the opposite gender, on a consistent basis.

Hats off to Banana girl for her powers of observation, and to the test subject, for this theorem would've been useless without ample proof to substantiate its consistency.