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Picture courtesy: xkcd.com 

Perfectionism costs much. You’ve to be perfect so that you can prove your worth. I can hardly call myself a feminist in the true sense of the term, because the thing is I never ever understood this concept in its ‘true’ sense. I am standing in the middle here, right between bra-burners and Femi-Nazis and people who do not give a damn. I hardly ever cared about achieving ‘absolute’ perfection because in the end I got what was due to me, or something pretty close to what I wanted. I admit, I am average. But that was school. 

I was made to read a book when I was fourteen by an aunt who is a surgeon by profession. I found it pretty boring and preachy back then. It was The Making of a Woman Surgeon by Elizabeth Morgan. Only now do I understand what it actually meant. Morgan gives an example of one situation where she had to treat a patient met with an accident, and she hurriedly and untidily put in the sutures to close the wound for the fear that he would lose his life. The chief resident, a woman, told her to take the sutures out and do the work neatly. The patient died as expected but the sutures were neatly put in. According to Morgan's chief resident, you can’t remain satisfied with being as good as men; you have got to do better than them. My point, that's where situation starts to suck.

That’s what it is. Perfectionism is not the same thing. One mistake and you are labeled. Not just you, but your whole gender. You won’t even know when you become a part of the gender politics. Because one day, you will start chirping the same tune. No one would take names if I draft badly in my internship. But the blame would be on all future female legal interns because they cannot draft well.  A standard has been set, a really demeaning, crippling standard. This is what people call “the glass ceiling” in such endearing and graceful terms. Its amazing how everything is taken to be a matter of scrutiny right from  speaking skills to one's integrity. One stupid mistake is all it takes.

I always found Cal Hockley’s character more believable and real than that of Jack Dawson in Titanic (not focusing on the fact that Billy Zane is kind of irresistible. Period). Frankly, love stories do not end with a kiss in sunset, nor does the guy let himself freeze to death. In fact, in a practical world, I wouldn’t be surprised if Jack Dawson promptly pushes Rose DeWitt into the frozen ocean to save his dear life. Concept of love is made complicated because it is distorted. One could blame the bollywood or the ultra-feminine Disney princesses or the bigoted gentlemen and mystified heroines of Mills and Boon and the likes, and so on and so forth. 

I think I wrote something on the concept of eternal love before too, that how the whole thing is fictionalized, and I was refuting the concept even then. I’m no enemy of love but the truth is that the ultimate, never-ending perfection in love is just a fiction. And the whole concept is believed by majority simply because; they want to believe in it. What a travesty! It’s like make-believe, a deception. And it’s insensitive when a person is judged in every different relationship with the same yardstick. Creative writing and ‘chick flicks’ program the minds to an extent that fiction seeps into reality. Get the spark? That’s why it is so hard for some to get over the warped equation of Marriage = Love = Happy ever after.

I don’t know how others perceive it, but to me believing in concept of eternal love is debasing love. Fanatical love wears off. Sooner or later it does, and then it is replaced by subtle feelings more on the lines of adjustment, adjustment which may or may not be made freely at times. Trust me, that is what ‘practical love’ is about. Probably that part requires courage. Not everyone can do it.

Correction

Home is where your parents are.

Honesty is the best policy. Always.

For the next few paragraphs, I'm going to sound like an ass. But believe me, it's true. I maintain a strong sense of right and wrong when it’s about my life. It’s this ethical code that is just like my spine. I know I won’t survive without that. I hate objective questions in exams. I despise those multiple choice questions where all you do is tick one out of the four. I found myself in the examination hall sitting and staring at those questions, I knew only 3 out of 10. And I saw people walking out the class to go cheat in the washrooms, I saw those so called toppers in the class whispering and trying to sneak a peek. And I could do nothing. All I could do was sit and glare at those who went out at some pretext and came back grinning. I did not attempt more than three. And I know my result. Majority would be getting sixes and sevens. I never felt so irritated in all my four years here. I cried that day. Not for the exam but for everything I believed in. I felt defeated. And I hate myself for crying because I blamed my inability to go out and cheat that day. Because when you are desperate enough you start compromising. You drop those ideals for something that is achieved effortlessly. Nice and easy. 

A person I know always buys a platform ticket whenever he goes to pick someone up at railway station. Always. Nobody checks that ticket you see. Even if someone’s checking it is easy to get lost in the crowd and get away. I asked him why. He said that this is what you do, because this was a right thing and that most of the time being right matters only to one’s conscience. I can get a grip on my problem if I judge my situation according to his words. I won’t cheat just because everyone is doing it and getting more than what they deserve. The hardest thing is to be right with yourself, being true to what you believe in and even more difficult is to reason with yourself because the easy way out is the most alluring. No one asks for a Gandhian truthfulness. Accept it or not, the white lies that we tell everyday so that we may lead out lives normally, out of pity and gracefulness, those cannot be given up. It's practically impossible to not lie at all.

Self confidence does not have to depend on how others think. Does approval by majority make us feel good about ourselves? Yes. And this makes it hard to follow ethics. Listening to that inner voice is hard when the whole world is screaming. But really, some lies should not be told. At times, honesty may not take you to great heights, but you remain just in your own eyes. Conscience is not stupid. We don’t understand it because we don’t listen to it. It is always right. It’s always rational and more if you look beyond.

I know the Karma theory stands true even if I don’t follow my religion. Following an honest path robs you off a lot many opportunities and probably you lose them to people who don’t deserve them. I don’t care if people pay for their actions or not, because poetic justice is just a romantic idea. I stay right, that would make me happy.

2/3

I grew up. Again.

Wow. I don’t really like the feel of this realization. The last time I felt the same was when I turned 20. I can now laugh at that period of post-teenage blues.

I’ll graduate in just a year and a half. Time’s getting testy.

Five years. Yeah, they just ‘flew by’ like they say, but I truly experienced and understood the relativity.

There were times when life just dragged on. Things are never at a snail’s pace where I am, but you realize the point when you are just hauling the luggage. There have been times when I hauled my luggage every time I left home and realized that’s what I’m doing, yanking and pulling but not going anywhere. I was wrong. That taught me too. I just didn’t want to see that possibility at that time, that’s it. When I was in my final year at school, I was so sure of myself. I was sure I knew the way to handle things that might come my way. Come what may, even if I’m unsure I’ll find a way. Things changed a lot. My motivation got tested, my very thought process got tested. Now I feel I know something, at least a bit more than what I learnt at school (not in academic terms, of course!).

I might be proved wrong again. But I’ll be less stupid the day I graduate.

Context

This says much:

My very existence is an insult to you, because its a negation of everything you believe in; the only way you can tolerate people like me is if we keep our mouths shut and pretend that we are not who we are.

Source: A myth in creation

Self-Worth

Someone said really kind words to me today.

None of us are psychic. For sure, sometimes we have a very clear sense of what a good choice for us is, especially the longer we live life and have more life experience with things. But sometimes, we really don't, so we make a given choice, and then we find out. And we may find out it was a choice that felt best for us, or find out that it wasn't. It's in the second situation we become unforgiving.
No book exactly mentions feelings prepared to be surprised, or to experience feelings positive or negative - that we weren't expecting. Because sometimes we will be surprised by our reactions and feelings, and that isn't always easy. But it's important to remember that we don't always have all the information we need to make a decision, including the ability to see into the future.

And I agree. Blaming the self is the most damaging and meanest thing one can do to one’s own sense of worth.

My laptop is now as good as new. When the technician opened it up, to his amusement he found a spider web.

I think it was trying to make a website.

2010.

already.

Close the door, change the record...

"...That is why it is so important to let certain things go. To release them. To cut loose. People need to understand that no one is playing with marked cards; sometimes we win and sometimes we lose. Don't expect to get anything back, don’t expect recognition for your efforts, don't expect your genius to be discovered or your love to be understood. Complete the circle. Not out of pride, inability or arrogance, but simply because whatever it is no longer fits in your life. Close the door, change the record, clean the house, get rid of the dust. Stop being who you were and become who you are..."
-Paulo Coelho