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Writing is like my purging ritual. Its a cathartic process, it makes me put things in perspective and get them out of my system. Its like crying for me, its got healing properties. But then there are some times that you just can’t express what you feel. Or that you have had enough of explaining or talking about urself in a world where nobody really listens. After all, this is a public platform, and used mostly to broadcast posts. But I have never really looked at my blog like that. Its my world where I share things that I don’t/can’t otherwise. Where I ramble without fear of judgement or prejudice. It may not be the truth, but i’m going to assume it to be true for a while. Most of my posts remain drafts because I’m never fully convinced of this thought. But today i’m going to assume and overlook. Otherwise this silence is can be numbing.
I really don’t have anything specific to talk about. I just want to talk. I want to tell things I have been cataloging in my memory for conversations that will never happen. I want to tell how happy I was when I got an unexpected birthday present I always wanted (a painting easel!), how happy I was when a friend posted an exceptionally nice birthday wish on my timeline, how sad I was when I realised I should have spent more time knowing this particular friend and being with her, how sad I was when a friend I really cherished slowly started to drift away from me. I want to share the anxiety that lurks just under my skin about my uncertain future, I want to share the accomplishment of finally finishing a big and much awaited part of my life, I want to share the fact that I have been unable to express my emotions with anyone for a while, that i’ve become very good at pretending. I want to talk about how I felt when I got rejected from one place after the other, but also about how nice I felt when I finally finished writing my thesis. I want to be able to explain the pain it is, still, to go to work to the same place everyday, and how I have made myself immune to that emotion now. I want to talk about every insignificant detail of my life, but I have not, not the things that really matter to me anyway. I was not like this, but I have changed, and its mostly for the better I guess. Its not necessary to talk about everything. You mostly just end up making a fool of yourself.
There are spaces within you that cannot be shared, healed, mended or removed. These spaces often contain a myriad of emotions and memories, but sometimes they overflow and get so crowded they start to die, leaving nothing at all.
There is no filling some voids. They will always be there. In all their nothingness. I need to accept that.
We build around,
Ourselves in a thought
Nay, a reality.
“Its true, so true
I’ve never been blue
For lack of love for me.
Its perfect, my life
all “quadrants” alive
I got what I wanted
In a heartbeat’s time”
These Mirages they keep
You in an oasis of sleep
A promise of relief
to a parched throat,
Of rest and happiness
to a parched soul.
Like a fantasy though,
The oasis is fickle and fragile
You think you get it,
Something is not right
You see through clouded eyes,
A picture perfect life
Till one day the atmosphere decides,
Its deluded you enough this life
It breaks the illusion
Ruthless, just leaves confusion
And u wonder, unstrung
Were u better off deluded?
or are u now more alive?
I know I havent written for a while now, things have been so busy lately I hardly get any spare time. But I have time today, due an unforseen and unwanted error of sorts. If you know me and what I do, its not very hard to guess what may’ve happened, and I shall leave it at that.
All this while, I didn’t realise that creativity was leaking out of me. I kept postponing creative pursuits, thinking other things were more demanding. I kept loosing touch with my creativity. I always thought the culprit was time. ‘I shall get to it when there is time, and there it will be, waiting for me like no time had passed.’ Hah.
But now I feel I was wrong. Every time I chose something else over pursuing my creativity, a part of it died, or left me. Its like it felt abandoned, it felt cheated and lost. I’m sure it must’ve waited for me for a while, but it couldn’t handle the long bereavement. Can I blame it for leaving me? I guess not. I was an unfaithful partner. But I loved it nonetheless. I loved it like I’ve loved nothing else, for it gave me the most beautiful, happy and contented moments of my life. I cherished it most dearly, for I thought it precious; One of the few things I was proud of possessing.
I may deserve what I got, I don’t have enough to debate there. But I miss my creativity, my random bursts of talent, my happiness on the successful creation of a work of art. Its painful sometimes to feel handicapped, to be not able to put on paper what you want to, the way you want to. I guess that’s just my curse for not nurturing what I was given.
What amazes me is how despite this realisation and the pain it causes, I continue ahead on the path where I see no redemption.
Such is life…sometimes you ruin it yourself.
( Something I wrote a long time ago, just felt like reproducing it here.)
I trust the trust that others trust,
i take a leap of faith.
I think i see what others see,
i take a leap of faith.
I want to feel what others tellme,
but there i miserably fail.
I think i know that i’m falling,
but i know that the hand awaits.
I always tell myself i’m short,
No matter what the choice…
I always stand just shy of the line
that says you’ve made it, rejoice.
Is it the truth that rings through me,
Or is it plain fear of being less?
Am I what i’ve always though I was,
Or am I just a statue of my fears, a mess?
Its a question that may never yeild,
But i think i know what to do.
I place my trust in the hand, the being,
of the one who will never bid adieu.
One emotion. In fact a mega-emotion. It is so wonderful, beautiful. There is no greater happiness in the world than being loved. There is no greater compliment in the world than bestowing love.
Yet, why is this emotion so often the source of our sorrows? Why is the object of your love capable of inflicting the greatest pain?
Small, insignificant things, hurt. Maybe cause expectations change. And that maybe because we want it to be a certain way, progress a certain way. Its all stereotypes and clichés. But that’s what you want. If only we knew nothing of love, if we discovered it as we went along, would we be any happier?
Is love really overrated? Or do me make it so?
I wish I knew.
Your problems are so insignificant, they really don’t deserve the attention you give them.
If only homo sapiens were not so self-centered a species. It always takes a greater disaster to realise this.
There is a very good quote by Robert Fulgham, it tells you to realise the difference between a problem and an inconvenience. ( A very good description of it is found at Zenpencils, here)
I really like it, but would also like to add, that sometimes, you do have problems that may not be mere inconveniences. But they may not be the end of the world. Think about the various people struggling more than you, think about people in your own life who made sacrifices to get you where you are, think about the people who go through all this and never complain. Yes, you have problems, but so does everybody.
Make less of your problems and more of your successes. Prioritise happiness over discontentment.
No matter what tragedy God throws your way, no matter what great test he plans,
If he just keeps the knowledge of what it could have been,
If he just keeps the reminiscences of what had been,
If he just keeps the images of the good present that you won’t have…
Away from you…
You can survive it soo easily!
Ah! If only he loved us as much as to make things easy.
He loves us evermore.
And the infinite love shows.
I’ve decided to try something. I’m usually very efficient, despite being not very organised on paper. But of late this is proving to be a problem that i need to overcome. So, this blog shall become my documenting medium. I shall record things I need to keep a track of, and more importantly, things i need to learn in life here. They will mostly be simple truths of life, that I need to learn by experience. These notes will help me consolidate things, by writing it down, as well as by reminding me of the costs for such epiphanies!
So, for my first entry; this one is two days too late.
No one is out there to help you. Extension of help is highly regulated by convenience.
Also, EVERYONE (you included) is capable of more than you imagine. You can’t know anyone absolutely, and you can never predict their responses and behaviour. Come to think of it, can you even predict your own? You may expect a certain response, but you may get something totally different. Shocking, though it may seem, it is still the same person. And they are no worse off for it.
These two things, though naive, taught me a great lesson by occurring together.
Take it at face value, and move on. Be professional, be cordial, be polite. Maintain the relationship. Everyone holds the right to decide how much to invest, and when to pull back in interpersonal relations. Chances are, that you will continue as before after it. I wont say ‘forgive’, as I don’t see anyone at mistake here, but definitely FORGET. Works like a charm.
Have you ever had a success in your life? Have you tasted the elusive delicacy? Have you ever marvelled at the end result of your work? Have you ever wondered how you managed to produce such a beautiful result? Have you ever been amazed by how good you were at it? At how you could do things you never even imagined? Have you ever felt like you could do anything in the whole world? Have you ever been confident that you can will your way to work?
Do you feel such more often than not? And did you make a living out of it?
If you could answer YES to any two or more of the above questions, you must be doing something right.
You must be, if you’re not already there, on your way to a good an happy life.
Isn’t that what we all want?
Okay, so finally I’m writing about what I do. Its really difficult to avoid writing about it, as you see, no matter how much you try otherwise, if you’re in RESEARCH, its pretty much all your life.
I’m a graduate student in biology. I do full time scientific research and live and breathe biology. I work 24*7, including holidays and weekends. Work is a continuum, free time dictated by incubations or sleep. I dream of possible solutions to my experimental problems, have nightmares about things that could mess up the current week long experiment, and cry when I realise the last dream may actually be reality! I get happiness when one step of my standardization works, even if i’m a loooonngg way from the coveted result. Data ( at most times any crappy, inconclusive data included) is the currency of our world, we live and die to acquire it. The one with most of it, is looked upon as the King, or the Tata’s and Ambani’s of our world, people looking at them as though they are on another side of this world where flowers blossom and PI’s smile, and where YOU can Smile! ( awestruck! O_o) The one single aim/dream/goal/aspiration/desire/target/ambition or in short our raison d’être is to get PAPERS. Not just one, but many, and in as scientifically coveted a journal as possible.
Or, Atleast that is how it is Supposed to be.
But is it really? Not quite. You will realise soon (much sooner than i did!) that i’m not an ideal science graduate student. Because unlike what is generally believed, it takes a LOT more than love for science to do research. But more on the complicated ‘what you need to be a researcher’ later.
Even if i did have the passion for science that overpowers the logical human need to ‘have a life’, the picturesque description I painted above would still be a glittering galaxy of unattainable! The reality, if I may come down to it, is a hard life, full with incessant repeat try’s of experiments that don’t seem to work, and probably never will, before you get that one piece of data that may temporarily save your life! Despite the job being a highly organised one, your life will be the perfect example of unorganized, sometimes making you wonder what are you doing with it. Not to mention the perpetual guilt you would carry around for shirking work (cause u slept an extra hour! ) and not reading enough papers and keeping up!
All this you can still deal with, after all, every job has its problems! But what I (let me go back to first person here, just to avoid generalization!) just cant deal with is the continuous emotional and personal jabs that come from your ‘bosses’. Unfortunately, whatever of the field of biology i’ve seen (and i may not have seen a lot, but i do hear additional stuff) the practice of making your life a sinful mess and making sure you cant have more than 3-4 days at a stretch without crying (read bawling) out loud for your mommy or cursing your life, is a carefully adopted strategy handed down by generations of PI’s. How the students who were once on the receiving end of this torture become the perpetrators of it one day is still beyond me. Maybe the scientists of yore were just blessed with divine skills to foresee the future and hence they came up with some fool-proof formula. But either way, i don’t think i will live to see me transitioning through that phase.
I believe a few words can say a lot, and having said quite a few already, i think i should stop. But what about the question we started with? To research, or not to research? Well, as a very intelligent former teacher of mine recently told me, that is a question only you can answer,but ten years down the line! The answer is only clear in retrospect.
Curse all these scientists of yore. They really knew what they were doing! :@