I have lived possibly the best of the days in years this friday..

My work in lab was extremely efficient and I worked till 8 pm in the night , to be noted on a friday night, which gave me a high to begin with and then I spent the later part of the night playing Mafia game with random geeky  but fun americans. 

And thereafter, the icing on the cake was an intense one hour conversation with a very close friend  :-)

At this point in my life, I can not possibly ask for more. 

one justs so wants normalcy back in life....

I forced myself to fall asleep, but for the random thoughts that kept poking my neurons and hence all my body cells are wide awake :-<

Just when one thinks that she/he has it all figured out, there is an uncanny feeling of an impending explosion about to dislodge your steadily rested feet from the ground. Bum. Let me ramble and relieve myself of heavy thoughts. Shoot.

"Being Mad is not easy", so goes the tag line of " One Flew Over Cuckoo's Nest". I just randomly picked this book for reading tonight and loved it absolutely. I believe I have the reading deficit disorder, I tend to switch from one book to another book too often. I am reading quite a lot of books at the same time. Anyways , going back to the book, The setting is an institution for insane; And , the story is told in first person by one of the patients who is believed to be totally insane, deaf and dumb. It starts with how strictly the rules are imposed by authority on these "mental" patients just for the sake of it. And, how it curbs down the independent spirit. I am yet to read the later part. So, I will bask in the happiness of a glorious ending of a rebellious against the authority in a later post. The story I believe is going to end with a rhetoric, are so called "demented " people locked up in cellars in mental institutions insane than the ones outside it. hmpf.

after 23 years of my life,

I see this everywhere around my life and I will believe it henceforth,

" Perception is reality"

Often, one invests so much energy and effort in doing something  that one naturally harbours high expectations out of it. One is blind and oblivious to everything else but those hopes . The world is centered around those hopes and expectations and suddenly those long-lingered hopes are shattered. One is so shaken out of a dreamy trance and is left totally disoriented and questioning about the very existence, order in life and so many other things.

All of us play fools some or the other way in this worldly stage,

whoever said only fools rush in.

I love reading Shakespeare, prose well woven with allusions.

Have fond memories of time not so long before or was it really long before?

It seems so long and I feel terribly old, not to mention that these days my eyes swoop down in a plea to go to bed right at the stroke of 12 pm,

and a normal work out wears me down.

And then at such an old age, I have been extended a kind invitation to an event which involves making pretty cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles, and something else exotic, 

which my old memory refuses to recollect now,

all in an event to mark and celebrate being 'single'.

Old age, bah.

William Shakespeare - All the world's a stage

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
And then the whining school-boy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,
Seeking the bubble reputation
Even in the cannon's mouth. And then the justice,
In fair round belly with good capon lined,
With eyes severe and beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances;
And so he plays his part. The sixth age shifts
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon,
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide
For his shrunk shank; and his big manly voice,
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes
And whistles in his sound. Last scene of all,
That ends this strange eventful history,
Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.

ha ha

http://www.ptinews.com/pti%5Cptisite.nsf/0/BDD770742A7A6A636525754E00558922?OpenDocument


Coming from an Indian Politician, I did not find it shocking.

Random materialstic wishes

Some day, I want to

See the majestic ' Sistine Chapel' painted by Michaelangelo
Trek Grand Canyon
Teach students in Africa
Do a long road trip in US and a bike trip in and around Goa
Sky dive
Ski ranges of Colorado
Attend Mardi Gras in New Orleans/Rio
Shark ride in Hawaii
Have icecream for dinner without feeling guilty about it
Sail by myself in Boston
Binge in Vegas again
Be mesmerised by Tibet/Ladakh

More later.