Why is God considered an explanation to anything?
Why is God considered an explanation to anything? It’s not–it’s a failure to explain, a shrug of the shoulder, an ‘I dunno’ dressed up in spirituality and ritual. If someone credits something to God, generally what it means is that they haven’t a clue, so they’re attributing it to an unreachable, unknowable sky-fairy. Ask for an explanation of where that bloke came from, and odds are you’ll get a vague, pseudo-philosophical reply about having always existed, or being outside nature. Which, of course, explains nothing.
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Deadly Three
I can’t possibly be the only one who suffers from this brand of insanity called thinking too much. It goes well with this other thing we call jumping to conclusions. Now while the two might seem like they are a contradiction in terms, they really are not. They make a very good team. Oh, let’s not forget to add a pinch of pop psychology to this concoction.
And we are ready to go… your very own emotional roller coaster awaits.
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Ayn Rand on Writing
“If you have difficulty with writing, do not conclude that there is something wrong with you. Writing should never be a test of self-esteem. If things are not going as you want, do not see it as proof of an unknowable flaw in your subconscious. If you tell yourself you are guilty for not writing brilliant sentences within five minutes, that stops your subconscious and leads to a host of writing problems. Writing is not an index of psychological health. (Over conscientiousness is one reason a person might aspire to something too ambitious, and then blame himself [herself] if it does not come easily). If you do have any guilt, earned or unearned, that is between you and your psychologist. When you sit down to write, however, you must regard yourself as perfect, omniscient, and omnipotent.
Of course, you are not omniscient and omnipotent; no human skill, if at all interesting, can be perfect every time. Properly, therefore, you should feel that you have the capacity to write well, but that it is difficult. And you should not want an easy job—you do not want to be a hack—and therefore you should take all the trouble, and have all the patience, that writing requires. Do not conclude, at the first difficulty, that you are hopeless. This is the sense in which you must feel omniscient and omnipotent; not that everything you write will automatically be perfect, but that you have the capacity to make your work what you want to make it.”
—Ayn Rand, from The Art of Nonfiction, edited by Robert Mayhew (Plume, 2001)
There aren’t enough words for how much I love her.
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Yoga Month
On the top of my list of resolutions for the month-long break from work was to join a yoga class (something that I had been putting off for over a year). After procrastinating for another week, I finally decided to enroll. After a class of yoga, I realized I wanted something that helps me release a lot more energy and so I gladly took up power yoga instead (which was luckily beginning on the same day). Best decision ever!
I haven’t enjoyed something as much as I enjoyed this class in months (maybe even years). I think it’s primarily because for 45 minutes every day I wasn’t thinking/stressing/analyzing everything. It gave my head a much-needed break (one that I most often can’t give it even while I am sleeping) and I can’t hope to expect to get that from any other form of working out (and, oh, the happy hormones after a long, sweaty workout are such a bonus).
Sadly for me, a month has passed, I am back at work and class finishes in two more days. I have been hoping that I would somehow manage to find another class that goes well with my work hours but have had no luck so far. So, this beautiful relationship needs to go on a break for a while (and it blows!) but I am positive that sooner or later yoga will find itself back into my life.
Side Note: It might seem like I romanticized this whole thing a bit too much but you really need to have experienced it the way I have to know what I am talking about.
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Type away, write away.
Pour your heart out.
Do it at the end of every day you have to yourself; type away, write away. One day when you are done living a microscopic life–talking about yourself–that’s the day you’ll start writing the fiction that I know is in there.
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#55WordStory (Words)
Theme: Words
“So, you had a terrible childhood and you’re a writer now… well, congratulations, you’re a cliché!” she snickered as she signed for another gin and tonic.
He was in love–the only self-loathing, masochistic and deprived variant of love he had ever known.
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#55WordStory (Nights)
Theme: Nights
The moon glistened. The streets quieted. They would spend till dawn exploring each other’s bodies, having forgotten how to stop months ago.
Mrs. Rai served her famous waffles with cream for breakfast. “Was the sleepover fun, girls?” she asked offhandedly. When they wouldn’t stop smiling, she walked away feeling rather pleased with her cooking.
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#55WordStory (Relationships)
Theme: Relationships
She wouldn’t go anywhere without it. The thread-bound notebook followed her to every coffee shop, train ride or city she found herself in. Her world would change, break loose & come together; and she’d always have the mustard pages to pour it in. Relationships aren’t just for people, you see? Especially the ones that last.
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#55WordStory (Zoo)
I love the #55WordStory project that @vivekisms started in February. I learned about it only last month and after battling inertia for several days, I finally sent in my first story last Sunday. If I’ve pointed you to this link, then I’d love to hear your thoughts (and constructive criticism, if any) on my writing.
Theme: Zoo
His shoulders were drawn square—their pupils followed his strides—he climbed the stage for his last act.
The zookeeper tugged at the ropes—the audience roared. “No good deed goes unpunished,” he thought. He was hung till death; free at last.
So, you think you are feminist?
I always end up thinking of how sexist feminism is when I am taking the bus (yes, of course the two are related) and yesterday was one of those days. I see feminists rant (at every chance they get) about wanting equal rights but they won’t shut up about how (what’s the word?) romantic a chivalrous man is.
If you expect a man to give up his seat for you, hold the door for you, pay for you on a date (the list is endless, really), then you are as guilty of sexism as the next person. You cannot selectively want equal rights, it’s a two-way street. You let your anatomy define the person you are, one way or another.
FYI: Persons for equal rights regardless of gender are not called feminists–that would be a contradiction in terms. Why not get our facts right first?
Now, for your enjoyment, here’s a slideshow of some of the best feminist memes, ever. Feel free to add to this in the comments.
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Benevolent Universe Premise
“We do not think that tragedy is our natural state. We do not live in chronic dread of disaster. We do not expect disaster until we have specific reason to expect it, and when we encounter it, we are free to fight it. It is not happiness, but suffering, that we consider unnatural. It is not success but calamity that we regard as the abnormal exception in human life.” –Ragnar
I do not understand those* who live in a constant state of melancholy… and like it. It’s pathetic that some of the most respected and well-known artists of our times believe that art cannot be created without reeking of pain, suffering or anguish. How depraved does a mind have to be to conjure such a notion?
Why is most poetry and prose alike only about the failings and ugliness of existence? Anybody can write about sadness, it’s benevolence that’s the hardest to write about. If you thought sex sells, think again. Despair sells far better. Just look around you.
I cannot think of a better explanation for my aversion to newspapers and disinterest in most “classics”. Yes, it’s terribly difficult not to get sucked into the cynicism or be worn down by it but I still don’t see what encourages people to resign themselves to misery and declare it as a talent.
There isn’t a way one could have a fulfilling existence without the Benevolent Universe Premise.
*without chemical imbalances, of course
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In Completion
Unbound bundles of half-written stories
Sentences, hung loose, imploring to mean
Words, unloved, fastened on a string that dallied
Thoughts, unfinished, anchored by inertia
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Another Year Closer
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This is some of what I clicked at the Queer Azaadi March today. My favourite moments included watching rainbow balloons in the skies, spotting someone who taught me in college in a “Born This Way” t-shirt and catching up with a lot of people who I hadn’t met in ages.
Happyness.
I felt a lot more people notice us this time around. There were hordes of bystanders who came out of their shops and homes to see what was going on. I don’t know how much they would have understood of the what they saw, but I hope they make an attempt to find out.
It’s getting harder and harder to ignore us.
What You Said