Bleeding edged sword

​Its reassuring, and at the same time depressing, to find that the same underlying snippets of neurocircuitary can drive exactly opposite behaviors.

Reassuring because most of our shortcomings can act as our strengths. Clichéd much? Well… I’m stressing this possibility only at a more neurological level rather than in the usual self-help tone.

Depressing because, sadly, vice versa.

e.g. The exact systems that work to desensitize us to painful or stressful experiences also work to make us take the beauties of life for granted. One of these effects prevents us from misery, while the other rips off the essence of life from life.

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No profit, no loss

Birth.

First few years. No questions. Serenity.

7th birthday. Still no questions. But answers! They start giving answers to questions I don’t have.

17th birthday. I do have questions now. Do I look for answers? But  they already have been pumping my head full of these for a decade. . Pretty convenient. Could those uninvited answers be wrong? I have asked that from parents. Asked teachers. I am warned never to ask again. I am trying to enter a forbidden territory, they say. Whatever I am told is the absolute truth, they say. The ultimate truth, they say. Because? Because they say so. Because someone else said so.

I ask for evidence. They’ve got it, they say.

“It cannot be cross-examined, as a rule. It is immune to criticism”, they say. Good. These measures maintain the prestige and assertiveness of the “evidence”. These rules defend its followers from the agony of dissonance.

Everything is going on well. Life is beautiful. Until…

I find the evidence fallacious.

But I keep the secret to myself.

They learn anyway.

Questions no more.

Life no more.

Beyond being physical

Raining.

Heavenly music.

I’ve gradualy left my physical existence and transcended beyond the material world.

I cannot smell anymore, cannot hear, cannot see, cannot touch, for I have left my body. It feels dizzy up here. Everything feels cloudy. The clarity of reality is gone. But I still love it.

I can feel pure and free joy, needing none of your serotonin.

Oh! I feel you’re somewhere around too.

I know because I suddenly remember what brought me here. It was you. Alas! I now wish I could see and touch once again.

Someone please turn off the music and bring me back. Bring me back from this unreal trip.

Why? Why doesn’t somebody do that?

Just that little off button and I’d be back.

Back to you.

Wait! Stop! Don’t yet.

Oh my! It’s you. I can see you now. Up here… not physically though. But better.

I can hear you better.

I can feel you better.

Orient Econotech Smart Airconditoner Mini-Review

As an AC, it does good enough.

As a “smart” air-conditioner, it doesn’t. Although publicly advertised to support remote controlling via wi-fi, it just doesn’t work out of the box. It probably needs some additional hardware, however that isn’t obvious in the first place. The AC comes with no documentation about making it work with wi-fi, nor does its smart application that can be downloaded from the Play Store. The salesmen do not know either, and the Orient help line offers no solution either.

Although I may be able to make it work eventually, I want to shout out loud that my first experience with Orient’s customer support is a very disappointing one.

The difference death makes

Image

What harm does a bullet do to anyone or anything in it’s brief transit through flesh?

Pain?

What would that be? Nature’s way of alarming it’s subject of harm to it’s body? Why alarm for that? For protecting it from the inevitable? Pain would indeed be a harm in it’s absoluteness, yet be as absurd as everything fundamental in the universe: life, laws of physics, origin of universe etc because it can’t help at all in preserving life indefinitely, and is thus pointless in the greater picture of life and death.

Death?

Death of a man is the annihilation of the universe for him, something that adds great weight to this philosophically absurd event, but only for a while. As always, it gets exponentially absurder as we move out to the greater picture. In this case, the greater picture of one’s death, and thus of his entire universe, is the death of the actual universe at some point in distant future which, again, is absurd since what meaning would annihilation carry when creation carries none? What then makes death a mournable crisis, apart from the emotional connotations? If Absurdism, the philosophy, is the uneasy chronic belief in man’s inability to unravel the answer to the infamous question of “meaning”, death is it’s acute implementation in which you couldn’t procrastinate over the question anymore and finally receive the greatest blow you’ve always feared, even if you philosophically claimed not to give a damn.

Inconvenience?

If a dying man leaves behind a family which relied upon him for it’s food, there sure is some inconvenience in death, inconvenience to the dependents. Ironically, such harm is again in form of pain or death of the dependents. We’ve already seen how absurd such harms would be.

So?

So, all the bullet did is shout out loud to the world the inherent meaninglessness of the universe, only to be silenced soon by the psychobiological defenses of the listeners. It tried doing something, but failed. It did nothing.

Psymic , The Global Support Group

I get upset, depressed, anxious, enraged, and all. As soon as the phase is over, I start digging into my own emotions to trace the events that had led to them. Psychologists call this Intellectualization. I’ve been intellectualizing for a long time now and only last year started doing it in an organized way, over this blog and on a series of personal journals. I started doing it so much that all other coping strategies and defense mechanisms had entirely faded out in their efficacy.

This year, I decided to take it a step forward. I decided to develop an application entirely focused over this concept of intellectualization. I called it Psymic (psychology+mic). It has been up for over a month now but without much success. Perhaps because I need to learn to SEO it, or market it in general. Or because intellectualization isn’t a favorite coping strategy for most people. I have concluded that this powerful coping strategy needs popularization before psymic.com makes much sense to people.

If you haven’t visited it already, go to http://www.psymic.com and be one of the early adopters. Its pretty lonely in there and so psymic may not double as a psychological or emotional support group yet… but otherwise, you may love it.

Justice is a human Invention

My sister is sitting on the couch for the second month, trying hard to grasp the content of her science textbook for an upcoming exam. She’s so devoted. In an era ruled by technological distraction, her behavior strikes as surprise to me. She has no direction in her life, no big ambitions. All she needs is to pass the exams and yet she continues the effort with dramatic determination.

Contrast that with me. I’ve attempted most of my exams without reading books at all, since class one. Although I wouldn’t make dramatic scores, I’d achieve more than most others. I precisely realize the downsides of my behavior, but that isn’t the topic today. What made me feel sad is the striking difference in the things different people can do, and in the efforts required to do those things. I know such diversity serves many purpose at larger scales, it still hurts. It hurts to see my sister, and others, read the same page over and over for hours just to grasp the concepts. I could blame my educational system and textbooks for that too, but again that’s not my topic today. I’m talking about the injustice that prevails across all aspects of nature.

I realized that justice, something humans talk of as a simple concept, is rather a complex invention, perhaps an innocent attempt to compensate for the absurdities and inequalities thrown upon the living by mother nature.

An invention no where else to be found.

Code is life

codingI hate my medicine textbooks because I can neither immediately verify the knowledge within nor contribute to it. Everyone has a learning style. Mine is more of a disability. I’m that bird that learns to fly only as it falls. It hates reading flight manuals. I realize how this approach is unethical in acquiring medical knowledge, and that’s another reason I call my behavior a disability.

I wish to create. To craft. To solve problems. ‘Creating’ is more engaging for me than reading, talking, socializing, and watching movies combined. If the world eternally puts me in a jail in exchange for some real problems to solve and enough resources for the problem solving, I’d be the happiest person on earth.

Lucky me, I’ve been able to quench my burning desire to ‘create’ all my life. By coding. Coding is that magical thing you can create a whole world out of with, using only a computer and a mind. What could be better for someone like me? But unlucky me, I’m a practicing physician. I have fought for years trying to persuade myself out of the fantastic realm of coding. I planned my future life without it. I betrayed my passion. Because I had to be a doctor. Everyone said I had to. My parents too. I wish I was loyal enough to existentialism to break myself free from these confines and live a life that cared for nothing but passions.

Today, after watching a video lecture on a certain aspect of programming, I’m feeling very disturbed. I wish so bad to be back in the realm of code. I wish to fly once again rather than crawling through bulky books of ready-made wisdom. If only I could. I could. If only I would.