Ready, Get Set.. Join the Party!

courtesy - membrane21@deviantArt

I'm not comfortable in social situations. And when I say social situations, I mean those which involve a large number of people. Not the evening 'get together' of a few friends but the conceptualized, planned and executed ceremonial gathering of acquaintances, many of them bound only by the commonality that they know "someone there".

Now, again, adding to the sad clarification in the beginning, I'm not talking about social anxiety or any other fancy new world, psychological handicap that makes me a tragic situation to be dealt with understanding and sympathy.. no.

I'm referring, rather weirdly gleefully, that I simply don't know what to do with myself. Yep. Me no like paartays! This is hardly a secret to anyone who knows me well. So this post  is for the rest of you fine folks..

When confronted with the demanding situation of someone else being happy about something and celebrating, possibly in the presence of thrilled people filled with encouragement and hope, I go through my options fast. Its really not that I don't wish them well, I do. I really and sincerely do. It's just that I am a fish out of water at such jubilant occasions.

If I do wind up there somehow, I have very little time to formulate a new and custom designed strategy specific to that place and people.

So I fall back on to my two basic plans of attack. These plans were not a product of careful analysis but more of a 'play it by the ear' thing that has evolved into a pattern of behavior many would consider worthy of medical attention and care from generally loving people.

Plan one involves what I call my First Person Shooter strategy. To those of you unfamiliar with this fascinating genre of gaming, let me explain. Essentially, you have a gun and a perspective.. combined with the ability to move. You figure the rest out when enemies come at you with bad intentions.

So here's how this one works for me. It came to me naturally because I do the same thing in the games.

Immediately upon entering the arena or the war area, you look for the corners. Never be caught out in the open. You head for the corner, navigating the hurdles along the way (social and physical) and settle yourself there facing the rest of the area.

You have the advantage of no one spotting you easily, because well adjusted individuals who generally populate such events tend to occupy the well lit, central areas. Wearing a dark enough outfit to blend in to the shadows helps. Then you can move from corner to corner if and when someone spots you and heads your way. You may have to engage in some combat (verbal) but overall you reduce the damage to your armor and survive the game.

Plan number two is what I have named the Need For Speed strategy. Now, the title may imply some sort of motivated action and coordination from my part. It does not. For me, Need For Speed the game involved mostly not crashing in to stuff and hoping for the best.

How this works out in the social event map is that I keep making laps around the whole area. I carefully maneuver my movements so that I don't run in to people, and also it gives people the illusion that you're busy with something. They always see you walking briskly somewhere. The trophy at the end is, of course, the ride back home in an actual vehicle driven by someone else when I can contemplate on the meaning of life and congratulate my wits for having carried me through the whole ordeal.

Then I pat myself on the back and resume my well rehearsed and by now confident routine of feeling lonely and bored, at which point I stroke my chin and delve in to the recesses of the human mind for the answers.

Still not getting satisfactory answers though. Hmmmm.. Now why is that? What am I missing here? (ponders in the dreary solitude of the night)

Suicide by Honesty

I write this with a fervor that often eludes me, and so I pray for the moment of clarity, or at the very least the desire for one, that birthed these words doesn't leave me alone and disoriented whilst I find the most honest and sincere way to bring this to an impermanent life outside the high and impervious walls that shelter my secrets.

The walls are there, as always, overhung with vines of foregone conclusions and covered in the moss of memories and I feel the acceptance of their existence is the first real step I can take to begin this confessional or revelation.

The recognition of one's self is an arduous task indeed and anyone who has ever found themselves staggering along that dark, often unbeaten path can vouch for the perils that wait for you on your lofty but worthy quest.

Let us begin simply and end with hope, or progress, if things do get that far before the very words I depend upon to cut through the darkness turn on me and lead me astray. For it is a great deceiver, this self of ours and it is only the stripping it of its clothing of manipulative acceptance or deluded denials, and revealing the stark naked beast that cowers beneath, that will aid us in vanquishing it.

A mighty dream.. and one that may transform before me in to a nightmare, or much worse - a fantasy.

What am I? That which I've always been. An odorless, shapeless, formless entity that dwells in time or rather creates it in its pursuit of continued but transient existence at the expense of the Truth. The Truth, as it says in those ancient scrolls of supreme wisdom passed down over the ages, is simply that which is forever - that which does not change or cease to exist.

Then I cannot be true because I am not forever.

Make no mistake, it is hard to see this 'I' when it is that very 'I' that is carefully jotting down the words that essay its true nature. It is a defensive beast, this I. And a determined attitude and a self destructive appetite is necessary to even make such an attempt.

I see it as I write this now; it prepares to flood my mind with a desire for applause and recognition, in order to turn what started off as an expose of what lies within, in to a parade of pretension and cunning half truths spewed with the sole purpose of survival. I must fight it with the whole of my being.

So here is what I am..

I am born and grown in arrogance that masks my deep seated fears of irrelevance, worthlessness and inevitable regret.

I am masterful in disguising my cowardice to face what I truly fear by recounting and reaffirming what I have no trouble facing.

I am manipulative in my interaction with that which is not me and yet claim sincerity in showing the side of me that has always been on display to all.

I chose my desires and gratification of my needs over everything else and anything that stands in the way of the realization of this fact in my conscience, I shred with countless blades of distorted intellectual premises.

I revel in the recognition of my false self because I am ashamed of my true self and all that it represents.

I knowingly ignore the fact that the hole in my being, which I came to know of years ago, cannot be filled with that which I can buy, borrow, beg or steal.

I shamelessly indulge in spending my time intoxicated by the blissful fantasies of worthiness whilst avoiding that which might grant me actual salvation.

I pretend to hold within my limited reality, God like control over what I am and what could happen to me, to any extent possible and those that get in the way of this fantastic illusion are subject to my callous wrath and petty indifference.

I am flawed, damaged, insignificant and deluded.

This is what I am. And with these words, I make my first of many moves against me. For the worst this 'I' can do to me has been done and to let it continue its miserable, mongrel existence would be a disservice to those moments of clarity that dawned on me many times over in gracious succession in the months past.

But there is the light that spreads its warm, comforting glow at the end of the path, the mere thought of which is the one that should give me strength - 'I' am not forever.

In Memoriam of Two That Dared to Dream

Once upon a time there was an adorable young girl who lived with her mother (for her father had passed away) and her older brother. She was beloved by the villagers and other assorted persons. She effortlessly became a real sweetheart to all those who met her. From a lively, fun loving, playful child she grew up to be a demure young woman, who took life and its plethora of shades in stride. And life was hard on her and tested her countless times.. at least until she met someone who changed things forever (more testing followed of course).

In another pristine rural setting, with a respectable number of charming things, many days walk from our young girl's idyllic little village, there lived a boy. A boy who lived with three siblings and countless friends, a devoted, hard working mother, and a harsh father. When he came of age, he left his home for a distant land (about a day and night's walk), in pursuit of youthful dreams.

To see the world and seek his place in it. To make his mark, as every man must, and explore those twisted and unbeaten paths of intellectual and creative pleasures.. to know what it is to be human, to understand frailty and to join the crusade against all that he felt was tyranny over the common man (though this did have unfortunate tangents and unforeseen side effects).

The parents, in both cases, though very relevant to the overall plot, are irrelevant to this post and that, my friends, is how I carefully combine irony and idiocy in one masterful stroke (you'll see why).

Now, back to our story..

Though life had been cruel and rewarding at times to both of them, they lived in ignorant and relative bliss, content with the hands they had been dealt. They knew nothing of each other, though providence had placed them so that their paths would cross, through many individuals, who remained then (and still do, in some cases) unaware of the darkness (more like a boring dimness) they were bringing in to the world.

Their doomed destinies intertwined and their dark fates etched out in the stars, our two youths lived as many young people lived before them and have lived since - bittersweet lives of glorious eventfulness matched at every step by their zest for silent dreaming of what may come.

I write this in their memory.. 

No! Don't get me wrong. They are very much alive, this couple of ours.. but who or what they once were are now faded or rather fading memories in cracked, yellow pictures to be dusted up once in a while and resurrected in honor of serene, solitary trips down memory lane (usually abruptly cut short).

The young girl was named Sudha (the alternative was Sujatha, which was rejected for unrecorded reasons but has proved convenient since) and the boy was named Jayakumar.

They are my parents and have been obliged to be so, contractually bound to me in eternal servitude, since mid April, 1987 when the aforementioned dimness engulfed their lives in the form of a rather overweight bundle of neediness henceforth known as moi.

A disclaimer at this point - as always I wrote this stuff out of pure emotional instability born out of a need to be awake during the most damning hours of night and have in no shape or form whatsoever, asked  for their consent  in dragging their good names in to this verbal atrocity of mine.

Now, as an explanation or in conclusion, I will not be diving deep into to their personal histories but rather am choosing to stick to the important reason why this write up was a necessary one in my case, and perhaps in the case of every child out there.

Here's the gist of it -

They were 'people' once. I mean real, breathing, flesh and blood young men and women, like the kind of individuals we chose to call our friends now.. (Although that's a bit scary)

And somewhere along the line with us saying "WAAAAAAHHH!" and somebody else going, "Take care of your child, please..", they died inside. 

Metamorphosing gradually but steadily to this crumbling, caring shells of their formerly vibrant selves, that we now righteously bicker with in indignant outrage over various important things like boredom, passive aggression, phone calls and oh yeah.. their ridiculous attempt to control our lives.

Don't be disheartened by my pseudo sarcastic, insomnia driven rant of insight though.. Our cruelty and deep seated evil as offspring has been masked by nature.. 

How you ask? For they (our parents) are too preoccupied with us and our gloriously eventful lives to fully appreciate the gravity of their demise as 'fully formed' people.

But do not worry those of you seek redemption (or possibly a well defined conclusion to this post) - there is a quick silver lining to this cloud of despair we have given rise to.. 

It's called Karma or those who prefer the Walt Disney version may chose to refer to this (more optimistically) as the 'Circle of Life'. Either which way, the fact of the matter remains -  We are screwed in the end too. :D

May there be a happy and grateful 'In Memorium' in our future as well..