Perhaps you’ve to get lost
Get lost, broken and have naught
To realize what you truly are
And what is truly yours.
Maybe that is the secret to life
To choose to participate or not
How big is much and how little is less,
Will that work and would this work,
And in this reverie of what we think is choice
Loose yourself and all that is yours
Into believing that in all of this orderly randomness
You really really somehow do matter.
And among this intermittent of universe
In which this fragile facade of human will
Just ceaselessly beats on and on
like never ending waves on white hot sands.
People say Lance Armstrong has been stripped of his seven Tour de France titles and given a lifetime ban by the United States Anti-Doping Agency (USADA).
“Today I turn the page. I will no longer address this issue, regardless of the circumstances. I will commit myself to the work I began before ever winning a single Tour de France title: serving people and families affected by cancer, especially those in underserved communities. This October, my Foundation will celebrate 15 years of service to cancer survivors and the milestone of raising nearly $500 million. We have a lot of work to do and I’m looking forward to an end to this pointless distraction. I have a responsibility to all those who have stepped forward to devote their time and energy to the cancer cause. I will not stop fighting for that mission. Going forward, I am going to devote myself to raising my five beautiful (and energetic) kids, fighting cancer, and attempting to be the fittest 40-year old on the planet.”
It’s been nearly a month since I’ve been using Windows 8. With work consuming the majority of life now, I struggled with finding time for open-source and ended up choosing software which just works instead of the preferential treatment which open sourced tools used to get. But, Windows 8 – the latest offering from Microsoft promises much, but fails pathetically in delivery.
It is essentially built for touch-devices, with support for traditional desktops thrown in as an afterthought. The entire “Metro” interface looks cool, but ultimately when working with a mouse and keyboard there are no noticeable killer features.
Neither nights nor dreams do I desire,
Your memories are all I’d ever require
Push me away and even sink me in despair
I’d not do anything else than just smile.
Come to think of it, it’s not your smile,
Neither your ever twinkling eyes
Nor that deserting short sunshine when you’re around
But … it’s just that it’s you and I.
No amount of cool breezes nor the wide blue skies
The cusp of crimson sun, the lisp of crescent moon
Depth of the silent oceans, or even endless time
Will just be enough for those golden smiles .
With all these in mind, how can I
even attempt to pretend that I can lie
When you ask, Is love all that have I
For all your priceless smiles.
Orissa as we call it, or Odisha as they call it,is what you call a decent place. It’s hot and humid. It’s green and barren. It’s greenery is like Antonia Valencia’s pace – it is there, but rarely does it thrust itself on to your face. It just melts into the overall scheme of the place. If you go around Orissa a lil bit – you know, hunt for those Jain caves, follow Ashoka’s trail, soak in the temples and in general try to go the tourist route on your own you’ll understand what I’m saying. So, I did all of that. But I also learnt something new.
I remember it vividly. Even now.
It was sometime around in the afternoon – when stomachs are generally full and when the tidings of the day are already established. When you already know what kind of day it is going to be. When you simply stop fighting against the tide and get amalgamated in whatever fabric the people around you have already knit for you.
I did not want it to happen. I did not want to hear that voice , which would burst the momentary bubble of happiness that I had somehow managed to concoct around me. The bubble which had stopped the tremendous revulsion that my heart launches into every now and then just by thinking of the sheer implausibility of the task in front of me.
There was a crow which wanted to fly
Just to fly, To soar up in the sky
And stay there for a while,
Looking at the wind smile.
One day, on yet another random whim,
The wind just picked up him
And together they were
Just together, they were.
And for a while, the crow just flew
through sunshine, moonlight and fresh dew
But some part of him always knew
Things were too good to be true.
Then one day the wind asked him why
But all the crow knew was to fly
What could he tell if asked why.
A million dreams, a thousand hopes
The crow did not desire.
All he wanted was a smile here, a glimpse there.
And All he wanted was to just fly.
Being engrossed with technology eventually gives you that feeling that technology can answer every question in the world. So, when I found this – part of me was very relieved that there are still some unanswered questions.
It’s called Devil’s Kettle. Because, no explanation exists till date as to where all the water goes.
Quote from Geology on Display: Geology and Scenery of Minnesota’s North Shore State Parks-
Not only is the outlet unknown, but there is currently no satisfactory geological explanation for the Devil’s Kettle. Certainly riverbed potholes are known to form from rocks and grit swirling in an eddy with such force that they eventually drill a vertical shaft in the bedrock. How the flow is conducted away laterally, however, remains enigmatic. As geologist John C. Green writes:
I have somehow realized that there is no such thing called meaning.All such meanings are what we perceive with reference to something. What that something is, is irrelevant as long as there is something.
For the quest to define something, to understand something is meaningless, as the moment after which I had understood the system, the definition will change. The definition can only hold true only for the past. For change can be so huge and so strange that you cannot predict it.
In order to define something, you are going to need a reference set. This reference set can be so varied and so diverse that trying to find something which makes sense along the entire spectrum is practically impossible.