Sunday, 9 February 2014

Vociferations + Reflections = A random set of paragraphs I cannot be bothered to expand because they fall outside my time frame

I hate waiting. I hate it to the core. It steals away part of my life, making me feel expended, wasted, permanently consumed. There is so much to do. There is always so much to do. Yet, I swallow up my pride and I wait. So many times. For hours, and hours, I can wait, consoling myself in the fact that I am practising something I consider to be beyond the limits of my endurance. Foolishly repeating it so many times. Well, not so foolishly. I only wait when I think it is worth it (and I rarely think it is worth it). Nevertheless, it essentially, after considering all sides of the debate, remains a waste of time. I guess I also hate myself for doing it.

The best way to repent for your mistakes is to rectify them. Not sit and cry in some corner. There is no better, no neater, no truer, no more genuine way to show repentance than to go and correct what you did in some idiotic past. If you made someone cry, then make that person laugh. If you offend someone, find a way to console. You forget important dates, then create things worth remembering. You hate someone, doesn't matter, you will soon love the person you seek to hurt. Learn to gather up the dung you throw unto the soil. Clean it.

It amuses me how adroitly, perhaps intentionally, people can manage to fabricate disjunct realities, subtly transposing them from the realms of their own fantasy. Don’t like someone? Go make him angry.

It takes a humongous amount of effort to make me speak about myself. Yes, 'make me', and that, is often offensive to whoever embarks upon the outstretched spinous path. The last time someone succeeded in trying this was after 2 years of continuous probing and endless assurances. Of great toil. Of meritorious endurance. I honestly love her for not giving up. I truly can never fathom how traumatic it would be talking to me when you couldn't understand what you really were talking about. It so isn't about me not being able to trust people. I do trust them. I trust many of them. But I do not undress myself in front of everyone I trust. I know, a great many can do it, and quite effortlessly. I guess it's natural to speak when you do not have anything to reveal.

I forget things. I forget many things about myself. And I guess I have a habit of forgetting because I'd dubiously be better off if I forgot. Sometimes I hear tunes that remind me of a certain past. Sometimes it's a particular smell. Or a particular place. Or perhaps even a particular fruit. I just listened to a song that brought back memories of some exceptional, grandiose moments from the forgotten timeline of my life. It's a feeling I'm afraid I would ruin if I tried explaining in words. Those moments that remind me I loved myself. Once upon a time.

As much as pure Mathematics can explain nature's physical harmony, Statistics can reveal out the contranatural reality of relationships.

Much of the Economics we fail to understand, more so apply, relies on the subtle fact that empirical regularities are treated as gospels. The glad thing, though, is it remains a foundation precisely due to the common man's ignorance of the study, of the supreme play behind a facade of theories and a masquerade of benevolent progression.

The only thing I have to say about finance-- upto now-- is that people learn it because they want to earn loads and loads and loads of money, fool lots and lots and lots of people, and avoid becoming a subgroup of the fool pool. 

The problem with politics is, everyone stands on the same ground, but plays a different game. 

Anger is pain that hasn't sought to manifest itself in any other way.

Having a good social life isn't a standard of the abundance of people you know; it's how you relate the people who know you when they don't need you to the people whom you know and don't need.

If it is part of every rule to have an exception, then no rule shall be broken.

Just like no one owes you anything, no one owns you. 

Quite ironical how those who epitomize love on screen are incapable of it in real life. 

There are some people you'd want to remain with, until you've known them; and others, you wouldn't know, until you've departed from them.

I am ashamed of living my life in a way that makes it seem I will live on forever. 

I respect adversity, for it marvels me about myself.

You look at me and make me exist. 

Is love, having a pillow?
I love the smell of water.

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