A crappy, real crappy existence

You know how it is with pop-ups these days, (no doubt diminished thanks to firefox) they just come about at you whether you like it or not, pricking your nerves at the most unsavory moment when you so yearn to get onto soccernet to check the latest EPL results. It gets better! In the past, all you got to do is to hit the X button on the right most corner of the window and wala, the pop up disappears. These days, pop-up innovators have gotten smart. They actually sort of pioneered a bug, in which a hit by an unwary user on the X button generates for the user more ‘pop ups’ on his way. Just Great! I think you guys are really innovative and all, but go screw yourself and your deluded interpretation of the freedom of information act.

It is not about pop-ups I want to write about today, but something kinda vaguely associated with it. The pop up episode is just one of many instances when irritating situations just has a way of getting right in your face. Take for example Saturday when I was reeling from the prospect of having to get back to school on Monday, there I was sitting right there in my room and the realization that I have not been doing anything productive all day and that my stats mid terms were like a week away and I don’t know shit about regression towards the mean, much less being prepared for it. Then came the emotional out of control spiral, the house stunk like a concentrated ghetto, the cars were buzzing away in arabesque fashion down below, even the beautiful sunny day turned into an intense mockery of my dull sullen state. I wondered now what was it that started it all – I guess it was nothing, but my past inactions which has caught up with me. I scurried for my stats book, and flipped vicariously through it, only to stare blankly at the animated figures who’s strange features unlocked the very last resistance to an outburst. The outburst, unlike it’s source was silent and without contempt. All it did was to locked me into the deep reticence and that I did for the rest of the day. Studying and tossing and turning intermittently.

So my weekend willowed away and now another week has begun. What I yearn for, I feel, seems far reached and implausible for I dispute the whole notion of seeking a purpose as a purpose always dies upon itself when its means to zenith enlightenment expire, often by a natural death. I would say therefore contrary to most ardent pro-lifers, I need a distraction as a distraction always captivates the mind and beholds the senses, while a short term measure, it’s paralytic charms auger one’s memory to forgive all transgresses.

I guess I found my distraction and I think I am going to lay my hands on that.