A apwptga pmpt

Thp gp jtpt tm andtpd wmt? Dmdpmt pdakw mdam amwthmg. Wmt bm pgq gm wmtp pamtp dmp ak g bpd

'Kant' explain[ed]

Cause: Sunday morning. 8: 30. And u can’t go to sleep. There’s nothing u could be possibly doing.

Effect: Blogging.

A priori synthetic: When u have nothing to do, u HAVE to do something.

A posteriori analytic: Sunday mornings are meant to be spent in the bed.

The Transcendental Unity of Apperception: The blogger is unknowable. “I” is aware that there is an “I” subject, or self that accompanies all of my experience and consciousness. But since I only experience it in time, which is a "subjective" form of perception, I can never know directly that "I" that is appearing in time as it might be "in itself", outside of time.

Noumenon: A mess-worker bringing ur breakfast to ur room.

You have two cows

Unimaginative/Pragmatic people: You have two cows.

Light bulb Jokes: How many cows does it take to change a light bulb? Two

Absolute Monarchy: The king has two cows. At the end he gets hanged, and so do the cows.

Cambodian Communism: You have two cows. The government takes both and shoots you.

Enron Capitalism: You have two cows. You sell three of them to your publicly listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank. He then executes a debt/equity swap with an associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax exemption for five cows. The milk rights of the six cows are transferred via an intermediary to a Cayman Island company secretly owned by your CFO who sells the rights to all seven cows back to your listed company. The annual report says the company owns eight cows, with an option on six more. The public buys your bull.

Fatalism: You have two cows. You die.

Pure Communism: Your cow is my cow too. My cow is none of your business.

Representative Democracy: You have two cows. Your neighbours pick someone to tell you who gets the milk.

Totalitarianism: You have two cows. The government takes them and denies they ever existed. Milk is banned.

The 3 Dot Language: ...

Two Cows: You have us.

Catcher in the Rye: This one time, you had two cows, but then you got to thinking about all the phonies getting their milk and that made you kind of sad so you let them go.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: You have 42 cows.

The Fountainhead: I have two cows.

Terry Pratchett: You thought you had two cows, but in reality one was the Death of Cows and went 'MOO' all the time, whereas the other was actually someone who had severely annoyed a witch. This sort of thing happens an awful lot.

Nietzsche: Two cows are dead.

Rastafarianism: Let's smoke these cows!

Nihilism:

Pragmatism: There are cows.

Minimalism: Cow. Cow.

Yoda: Two cows, you have.

R2D2: beep beep blip beep

Michael Jackson: Hey, are those two calves?

Oscar Wilde: "You have two cows." —Oscar Wilde

The Oracle: "Having two cows is like being in love, Neo."

Monty Python and the Holy Grail: We are the Two Cows Who Say Ni!

Descartian Analysis: You think, therefore you have two cows.

Cowell Analysis: Those are quite possibly the worst two cows I have ever heard.

Unknown Analysis: To err is to be human. To have two cows is bovine.

Tamil: Ungalidam irandu Pasukkal ullana. Pasu paal kodukkum.

Manipuri: Nangi san ani lei.

Pink Floyd (Syd Barrett): I've got two cows. You can milk them if you like.

Pink Floyd (early 70s): You have [17 minute instrumental] Two cows

Q&A

Q: Imagine u are a kid studying in say, 9th or 10th standard. What is more satisfying than going to a reputed institute, playing against their team, and getting to drink lots of cold drinks for free?
A: Going to a reputed institute, playing against their team, raping them and getting to drink lots of cold drinks for free.

Q: Which one is better, a dreamless sleep or one with a dream?
A: Dreaming 4 or more dreams at a stretch.

Q: What is better than chatting, playing football, watching endless episodes of 'That 70's show' and 'The Scene' and reading Thomas Hardy and Jane Austen?
A: Chatting, playing football, watching endless episodes of 'That 70's show' and 'The Scene' and reading Thomas Hardy and Jane Austen, when everyone else is slogging his ass off for quizzes.

Visi, vidi, vici

Four hectic days of Shaastra (arguably the best technical festival in India; those who disagree may google for ‘directions to hell’) just got over. And its end has brought in a terrible lethargy in me. Basically, things are back to normal.

Shaastra, to a lot of people in the institute, is a time for an extended siesta. In fact, a lot of people just ‘crash’ through it. For some, it’s a time to DC++ all the movies and series they have been craving to see for long . Yet, for some, it’s a time for a trip to a nearby hill-station or to go home.

But then, there are the participants, which I have taken in a wider perspective to include those who come here for bird-hunting (or watching) and not for the events. I’m sure they had lesser to complain this time. The birds were indeed a soothing balm to the sore eyes of tired participants . They would not participate in any event but just stand like mannequins the entire day. It would make good economic sense to use them rather than posters for ads. Most people look at them, not at posters.

The events occupied my whole day and the nights were spent in planning (which took more time than actually making it) and making a model or two for the next. Squeeze in two hours of football practice and a match (which I unashamedly admit we won; so what if it was against a bunch of school-kids) in the torturous morning sun. And, u know I am grateful that I’m not a vegetable yet.

On the flip side, we did win an event (The Incredible Machine) on the first day and came second in a major event later (The Puzzles Championships), which is more than enough reward for our toil, before and during the fest. And then, there’s a rocket and a glider that we made out of our own sweat, blood, and anabond. Though, we were a bit disappointed when they performed below par. At least we got a lot of oh’s and ah’s for our aesthetic design!! Lesson learnt: Anabond sticks almost anything, and quick.

(An anabond ad would look something like this: A guy is caught in a not so flattering situation with a girl. The culprit, however, is not his intention, but anabond, which has stuck his limbs in all the wrong positions. The girl’s dad comes and gives a stern look at him. The guy manages to slip an anabond tube to him. And everything is cordial again. Then, comes a subtle tagline and a voice-over – “Anabond bonds everything. In seconds.”)

Coming back, Shaastra as a whole has been better and won the ISO 9001:2000 certification again. What with better organized events, less events cupping, bigger budget and most importantly, more prize-money. Most events started on time (which was indeed a surprise for some Shaastra veterans), perhaps thanks to the QMS team, whoever they are. The spirit of engineering models – both the hovercraft and the smart-bridge worked (after two years of disastrous failures). And the main quiz was what it always has been – elitist (though not many are complaining). At least it doesn’t start at midnight to go into the wee hours of dawn like the Saarang MQ. U know what to expect when u are shown 2/3 vague pictures with the quizmaster breathing a constipated, “ Machha, put fundaes da.” Or “ Connect da.” But it sure is an unforgettable experience going through the very well-researched (read vague) questions with equally vague (and quite creative) answers.

Some events were scrapped for varied reasons, most notably Tech Cluedo and Ai-wars. In fact, Ai-wars/ AI- bots was the most searched strings in Shaastra this time!! Seems like the co-ords did too decent a job last year leaving little room for improvement! I would love to see the event bounce back as it has a special place in me, having come second in it in my second year (which I did with less than 500 lines of code compared to the thousands people made). A lot of people called it a fluke. I still call it a stroke of genius.

Anyways, it has been quite an experience indulging in the plethora of activities, as consuming and exhausting it may have been.

Cut to the present-
Alarm. Classes.
Life goes on.

8:40 a.m.

Alarm. Class.
Life goes on.

Confessions of a peculiar mind

It is that time of the day (night?) when my mind works at its weirdest. There’s no-one I can bug in the wing, and that sweet slumber is eluding me. There’s nothing that seems to interest me. My mind is in a maze – not a maze exactly, but…. u know what I mean. I’ve tried doing every possible thing in my book – watched T.V., surfed all my favorite sites, chatted, orkutted, smsed, called, tried reading a book, watching a movie, listening to my favorite playlist and what not. I would have ended up watching a movie but for the faggots who wont give me any slot to download from. I’m gonna buy another hard disk to store all the movies I want and I wont give them to anybody, I swear.

I even washed those clothes that have been soaking in the bucket for the past two days. Still, my mind is like a taut string, ready to snap any moment.

I want to bug someone on phone, but the validity on my cell just got over. I want to bang someone’s door and ask the time, just to see that look on his face (it’s not that funny, actually). But then, my conscience suddenly starts screaming at me, and it's not using the most decent of languages. Suddenly, the clock chimes 2:30 and I realize what shit I am stuck in. It’s another matter that I don’t have any clock that chimes, and even if I had, it won’t have chimed at the half-hour. In fact, it was 2:30 quite sometime ago. And presently, my clock is out of batteries. Bacially, the whole thing I said above is just fart.

I have a class at 9 in the morning tomorrow morning (in fact, today), but it still seems all too distant to me. The thing is, this prof has this contorted look on his face that makes him seem to hate giving the lecture more than we hate attending it. U hardly get inspired by that.

Ideally, I should be asleep and dreaming of some sweet and beautiful things. Though the dream part really doesn’t matter cuz I’ve not been dreaming of late. But I should be sleeping, at least. Sleeping without dreams is fine, u always seem to get enough sleep that way, but sometimes u want to have a beautiful dream – some deja-vu-ish ending to a beautiful day. Sometimes, it so happens that even though my mind is a bagful of oozing creativity and restless activity, my body demands a befitting rest to a tiring day.

I am c's weary body. Stop this. It’s 3 o’clock, for chrissake!! I can't type anymore.

ding!

Where is my home?

Was google-earthing..
Thought of taking a snap-shot of my place. It's not very clear. But A looks like Kangla-park. The yellow line must be Tiddim Road. And, B sud be my place (the circled part is the airport).
Nostalgia!!

A dream

i was hugging her
i slept

i dreamt
i was carrying her
she was a child

i woke up
i was hugging her

Because We Can

“I was floating above heaven; I think that’s why nothing made sense.”

“Do you hear yourself? You’re not making any sense!”

“I know, it sounds crazy, but I’m telling you, the only reason we didn’t know is because we brought it with us.”

“What?” His fists had unclenched he was interested again.

Johnnie just smiled, ” Earth.”

There was a long pause, the interrogation had to have a break, and the officer just paced the room looking around, thinking hard, as one does when given a paradox of their reality. He turned, curious as ever, and began again. “Why did you do it, then? Why would anyone do it, Johnnie?”

Johnnie just shrugged and grinned, as he was prone to do since he got back. “Because we can.”

Why?

Within

Dreary feelings,
A gleaming hope?

Creepy blackness,
A rousing light?

Countless dialogues,
A concealed cause?

Blatant anger
A hidden calm?

Seeming dislike,
A fervent love?

Lifeless history,
A pristine start?

For those who came in late..

For those who came in late and early in my life.
For those moments of solitariness and ruminations.
For the times when ive searched for the "real" me .
For the times when ive doubted myself and others .
For the times when ive felt really alone n yet so much belonged to someone.
For my happiness and for others .
For the trying times that lay ahead of me.
For those who know me or want to know me.
For those who have helped me and sought mine.
For the one who can and will change my life then and forever hence .
For now, and then.

Yum yum

A dosa fest, it was called. What i saw was this: 10+ varieties of dosas, a couple or two of uttapams, 250+ students and an unending queue.

But it was a welcome change in the mess, especially after being treated to food that have an inherent enmity with ur appetite, day in and day out. There was a bit of an apprehension about the quality of food to be served in the fest, after reading those flyers that read “Eat our dosas…Make all faces.” But the food turned out to be fine. And as I said, a welcome change.

The beginning of the semester saw a slight increase in the quality of the food, but it turned out to be deceptive. Soon, we were to describe food with ‘something-that-looks-like’. For example,
“What’s there for grub today?”
“There’s something-that-looks-like-gobi with something-that-looks-like-parantha.”

Good thing that I can have home food (ngari and stuff) in the odd weekend, or I would have been emaciated by now.

Detour:

365 tomorrows brings out a new short speculative fiction (Asimov, anyone?) each day, for an entire year (started August this year). There are 5 authors in this collaborative project. As of now, all I can say is, it’s awesome!! Perfect for today’s take-a-glance-of-a-page-and-move-on readers, and perfect for serious s.f fans. Also, for readers who find it too laborious to pick up an Asimov, Clarke or even Crichton. My current favorites are-
- The nine billion names of god
- Soul drive
- Outer space romance

Heaven 7 is a real time 3-d ray tracing animation. Lasting 2 minutes and 48 seconds, the file is an impossibly small 64 kb! Accompanied by a haunting music and text. Download here

Chitrangada is the new babe to watch out. Oozing sensuality. It’s been long since we saw a Smita Patil or a Shabana Azmi.

The striker’s dilemma

My cell-phone rang in the now familiar ‘There she goes’ tune. However, I had no intention of attending to the call, precariously poised as I was, and engrossed in a game of Counterstrike (though I admit I am a novice still of the game). Though my right foot was firmly rooted to the ground, my left foot was on my desk, beside my keyboard. Three of my fingers were hovering excitedly over the keys a, s, w, d, with my thumb over the [spacebar] and the little finger ready to duck [shift]. My right hand was on the mouse, fiddling over the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary, which I had for want of a suitable mouse-pad. (I have had opportunities to procure it from the Department Computer Center on three or more occasions before, but my prickly conscience always did me in.)

Some may argue vehemently against the positioning of my limbs thus, but I can guarantee the comfort achieved consequently. I can go as far as say that this is the most comfortable position achievable but shall stop a little short of it.

Now, my cell-phone was still ringing, but I was too busy cursing the server for kicking me out from the ensuing game, again, and again. I vowed I would stop playing if and when I got kicked the next, which happened a few tens of seconds later.

Later, I found a missed call and two messages. The missed call was from a friend two rooms away from mine. The messages were:
1. Dinner? (the one who gave me the missed call)
2. u will be happy that u got a message u can forward to people. But then this message contains nothing!

Ughh!!!