we got played.

What I have come to learn with my little experience of the world which is actually, 'my entire lifetime', is that 'the future' is just a big marketing strategy. It's a ploy to make us work.

When we were tiny little kids, we were told to study so that we can get a toffee or so that we can go out to play. So we studied that day so that we may wonder, "Melody itni chocolaty kyun hai?" and life was good.

When we grew a little older, we were told to study so that we may do well in our exams. If we did well in our exams we would get a new bicycle. So we studied the whole year and some of us actually got a new bicycle. Those who didn't knew that even though they didn't the bike, they couldn't let their grades fall, cause if that happened, some privilege would be taken away, and we continued to study. Then one day, when your bike was too small for you, you got a new bigger cycle and were told that this was the cycle you were promised, and even though it was a couple of years late, you were more than happy to accept it.

In senior secondary school, you were told that if you study, you'd get into a good college and some new liberties would be given to you. But by then we had learnt that all these 'rewards' that we had been getting for studying were bound to come our way as life went on and were not things you had earned by studying.

So, some of us chose to study, while some didn't. The case is the same in college.

How was a future a marketing ploy then?

What people in marketing do is that they launch a product with an irresistible offer like buy one get three free or something of that sort. In our cases, the toffee.

We use their product a few times thanks to their scheme, by then we get used to the product, or we reject it. But no kid can reject a toffee, so we get used to it.

What the marketing people do next is that they gradually withdraw the offer and offer schemes just like their competitors, but they now have some of the market captured. In our cases, the toffee was given as an incentive only on those days where we absolutely refused to study, on most days we would cause we had realized that other than being boring, studying wasn't really that bad.

The main principle behind marketing is to convince people that they would be happy to have a certain product. They might not need it, all you have to do is make them believe they would be happy to possess it. Everyone needs to be happy, so the customer believes that he needs the product. The money he has to spend for it is the only consideration. In our cases, it was time and in some cases popularity in social groups that would have to be sacrificed to study and excel in academics. There was something else - joy.

Some of us got fooled (myself included), that if we keep spending our time and energy into studying, we would get some product that would make us very happy. Unlike buying a product, in which case the product is delivered to you in your hands and you feel satisfaction or joy immediately, our product never quiet gets delivered.

We have worked to get into whatever college we are in, looking to be happy. We are now working to land a job, hoping that it will lead to joy.

We will work hard in our jobs hoping for more money, which would bring happiness.

We would continue to work and work and work till we get that happiness.

One day, we will die hoping to find it in heaven.

What I have come to realize is that now I know the marketing strategy. I am not going to invest forever, waiting for a product that will never be delivered. I will just invest enough to get a decent house, a decent car, a decent wife and enough money to raise a decent family. Other than that, I will do things which bring me joy right now cause there is no bank account that is keeping track of the amount of happiness you deserve. There is just one in your head that keeps track of how much you have received. And I'm gonna make sure that the counter on that account is always ticking.


NOTE: This post started out as a comment to my friend's post (Dreams. Future; near and far) but became a full fledged post.

judgement.

Judgement: The final conclusion in the court of law after examining all available evidence and considering all testimony.

Testimony: A form of evidence that is obtained from a witness who makes a solemn statement or declaration of fact.

Fact: Verified information about past or present circumstances or events which are presented as objective reality.

Circumstance: The existing conditions or state of affairs surrounding and affecting an event.

The problem with all these terms, as you may have noticed, is that they are used in each others' definitions. That means all of them are inter-related. And this also means that if you mess with one of them, you mess with them all. Mess with circumstances and the error finds its way to the top.

Sometimes in life, you can't give the complete testimony to the jury to clear your own name. Because that testimony would require the details of the circumstances around you at the time in question, so you mess with the facts. You don't fuck them over entirely, you just condense them to protect someone (not yourself, but someone). In doing so, you add your perspective and that changes objective reality into perceived reality and that changes judgement.

And when your friends start judging you after the chain of events just explained, things start to go wrong in your head.

It is especially tragic when you live your life on the very simple principle of "I don't give a fuck about what he thinks, cause he doesn't know me."
When the people who you do know, and who know you start judging you, some shit goes down.
You start to wonder whether you are what you think you are, or if you're just trying to fool yourself, as you have fooled the others, into believing you are a genuine kid.

And hey, what if you've actually changed? Consider that. What if you are losing your innocence over time and are actually becoming a shrewd, thick skinned, UP gunda-type motherfucker who knows only three emotions: greed, anger and lust.
You always thought you had it in you. It was just a matter of how well you could suppress it. What if you can't anymore? What if that beast is out and on the prowl for new prey. What then? What do you do? It's not like you can hit Ctrl+Z and everything goes back to normal. I guess you write about it on a blog that you maintain to make yourself feel important and which you use like your very public confessional box.

Maybe what you do is forget about it. Maybe you just become what you always knew was the best way to be; you become comfortably numb.

cowboys, space.

Yesterday I was watching Brokeback Mountain. It's one of those movies you keep for a time when you can watch it all at once, without any interruptions. Sadly, all the movies I watch are of that kind, hence I haven't been able to watch as many as I'd like.
Anyway, I was watching the movie. You know, the one with the gay cowboys, yeah, that one. And what caught my attention, other than the gay cowboys, was the skyline and the tranquility of the place where all the 'action' took place (the silence being broken occasionally by the squeals of the cowboy on all fours. This role was being played alternatively by the 'corrupted' Prince of Persia and a coke snorting, face painting clown).
Watching the movie, I felt a lump rising in my throat, (one reason was that the most masculine form of man, the cowboy, was going at it with another cowboy. A cowboy for Pete's sake!), the hustle bustle of everyday life had left too many emotions to dead with in a hostel room, I wanted some isolation. Some peace. A river, mountains around me, not a soul in sight. I want that.
I'm one of those people who needs his own space from time to time. If I don't get that space for a year, I would crack. In spite of all the space they had, I wonder at made those cowboys need someone's crack.
They both had hot wives, the Prince of Persia obviously had the hotter, sluttier wife, while Mr. I Snort Too Much Coke had a nice country girl in a small room. The problem was that they got these wives of theirs after their workouts on the mountain. I guess we all need some practice before we can do it right. Maybe the cowboys were just trying to get some practice. Yeah, it's that for sure. Cowboys aren't gay, are they mommy?
This is too much for me to process, I need some space. Some air. Funny I can't find anywhere to go in a bloody dessert.
Whatever it is, cowboys aren't gay. If they are, the only symbol of manliness had been corrupted. At least I have Toy Story. Oh wait,Woody's a cowboy and Buzz Lightyear is a... what did they call him? Astronaut - na, space warrior -na, space hero - na, I guess it was... space-cowboy.

No.

Nooo!

the good boy.

Outsiders' inside:
The good boy. The mama's boy. The boy who does things right. The nice guy. The decent fellow, who was raised right. The apple of the eye.

Insider's inside:
A compulsion. A need to do right. The need to be the light in someone's dawn; to be the cotton candy in a fair on fire; to be the meth in a junkie's drawer; to be the right in all that wrong.

Outsiders' need:

Something to look at and feel hopeful. Someone to talk to and feel nice. Something to remind them of morality and make them think it's okay to be bad, there is some good in the world to take care of the rest.

Insider's need:

To do wrong. To be mean. To be an ass-hole. To be the motherfucking jackass he tries to despise. To be the one who doesn't give a shit about anything. The guy who wants to bang a redhead and go break something in the parking lot.

Outsiders' and insider's reality:
I'm working on it.

closure.

This is not another emo post on emotional closure... in a way it is.
This blog existed mainly for catharsis. The lack of complete mind fuck has led to a state where I can not be creative. No sarcasm, no angst and no humour.

Hence, I declare this blog temporarily closed.

I am out of topics to write about. I ask you (those of you who manage to wander onto this page after so long) to give me topics you would like to read my thoughts on. Leave them as comments and elaborate a little just to let me know if you think about it in a positive or negative sense.

I promise I will write about a few of them by the end of next week.

In case no one reads this, it was fun trying to blog.

That's all folks.

Adulthood.

I’m up on my water tank again (I wonder what gives me the right to use the possessive pronoun here. I don’t care. I still call it my water tank.) I've been up here whenever I’ve been low. Okay, not every time I’ve been low, but every time I've was low and no bored hot girl was online, willing to chat. This has been going on for three years. College made it a long distance relationship but it’s still strong. Also not when I’m low and it’s raining, other than that one time when I was so low that in spite of the rain I was up here. It was an error in judgment of course. Given the fact that I was so low, I could have drowned in the rain. Bad joke. I agree. I don’t joke well when I’m low. Actually I’m on the top of a water tank on the terrace of my apartment building, that’s pretty high. So I’m pretty high. Hope mom doesn't find out.

See, I told you I don’t joke well when I’m emotionally low.

Enough of the nervous, vulnerable blabbering, lets talk some sense here.
I named this post adulthood. I turned 18 320 days back. In another 45 days I’ll be 19. Finally I’ve figured out what being an adult is all about.

So here's the secret.

You remember how we used to dream when we were kids.
Till the age of 3 heaven knows what we dreamt of.
3-7 we dreamt of flying into a land of infinite candy floss and a huge sofa we can jump on all we want.
8-14 we dreamt of becoming pilots or sailors.
15-18 we dreamt of an awesome college and an awesomely hot girlfriend. We thought we'd learn how to play the guitar. We all though that we could somehow, suddenly become cool; that out of no where, we would be able to address public gatherings with confidence and grace. Basically we thought we would drip awesomeness.

Well, that didn't happen, did it?
Did you notice the difference in the way we dreamt as we grew older? The dreams become less outlandish. To put it in another way, more possible, more realistic. We forgot what dreams meant, we started setting goals. Gradually, goals that were difficult to achieve become our dreams. And we all know dreams don't come true. So we lost that one thing that keeps us going. No, I'm not talking about hope, I'm talking about ambition. We lost our ambition.

Sounds cynical? It's not. Think about it. The dreams we dreamt could be achieved with some work. Well most of them could. And it wasn't as if our goals occupied our minds so much that they became our dreams, no. The dreams we dreamt seemed so realistic that we thought they were our goals. But when things didn't work out the way you dreamt they would, you weren't that disappointed, were you?

Now, sometimes, we exaggerate our goals a little and dream of them.

Do you see what's happening here? You are growing up. We've progressed to or deteriorated into what is called 'adulthood'. Some might say you are becoming cynical or becoming a pessimist. What I'm saying is that you are learning to protect yourself.

We've all had our share of bad experiences. Some have seen worse than the others, but at this age, we'll all seen that life isn't fair.

"Life isn't fair, deal with it."

And that's what we are doing. The lack of ambition, the fear of change, the fear of commitment, the fear of being open, the fear of sharing, the fear of failure, all of these are an attempt made by us to save ourselves from what life mostly gives you: a rough deal.

We've worked hard, been a good person and done the right thing hoping for something good. And many a times all we get is a big pile shit, right between the eyes. Graphic? Deal with it.

You get pissed off when your old man says things that make you think to yourself, "Those were the days of Bhagat Singh! Grow up old man." That last statement seems ironic, eh? What you don't realize there is that he has grown up. He's learnt that if you do this, this might happen and make you feel this way but if you don't do this, this will never happen and you'll never feel that way again.

Which is better? To touch fire each time it looks funky red, get a blister and deal with it OR to not touch it and grow up?

I'm growing up. If that means I become less fun to be with, or too mature to hang out with people of my age, or become the oh-I-can-tell-him-about-the-guy-I-like-cause-he-is-way-too-serious-anyway guy, so be it. (Actually I do mind the last one a little.)

The point is, start being cynical. Start being pessimistic. Start being perennially pissed off. Start thinking that everyone around you is only trying to use you. Start thinking only money.

Stop being yourself. Start being (How should I put this mildly? Hmm... Fuck it..) an adult.

NOTE: I have stuck to my trademark melodramatic style. I like it.
NOTE: I didn't feel like writing this after the first three lines casue I didn't think it would be ay good. But today I found out that the laptop is being taken away from me for a week, so just to keep the blog active. It hasn't been updated in a long time. Sorry folks.

oh yeah baby.

Cause its awesome and to remind my followers, I'm alive! I'm going home bitches!

most memorable misuse of the queen's english.

Click and view the enlarged image in a new tab.

If anyone can make sense of the alliterative statement made by the nameless wonder, kindly enlighten us all. Note the name of the site from which this pic has been taken al-rashid.com (as is visible on the pic). It amazes me how every incorrect use of the English language has some or the other Islamic connection.


NOTE: This is a joke. I am not communal, just awesome.

Californication.

Not the song, no. The show.

No, let me do this right, with the capitalization.

Not, the song, no. THE show. It was created by Tom Kapinos.



What is it about? It is about Hank Moody (David Duchovny). A rebel in the world of literature. His radical thoughts were made famous by his one and only big hit, 'God Hates Us All' (he had me there).

This guy is a stud. He is awesome in the sack with the ladies (they all are). What is awesome about this serious is that they actually show the boobs of the girls he fucks. And he fucks the best of them! (read Mia, look here) Moving on (as difficult as it may be), other than the boobs and the ass, and the very freaky bald dude (Hank's agent and friend) who has a threesome with his wife and his secretary who is a gothic chick, which ignites lesbian curiosity in his wife leading to temporary seperation, it also shows Hank fuck a black man's white wife! (GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND THEIR ASS AND THEIR BOOBS, AND WRITE SOMETHING ASEXUAL!! *point noted*)

They ALSO show his emotional side. His constant battle with the most boring guy ever (he even beats me), Bill, who is the father of Mia and Karen's new 'love', aptly described as a 'dial tone', leaves you pitying Hank and wondering yet again, what girls really want. But you can't pity him for long 'cause in the next frame he'll invariably be back in the sack and the boobs bounce around and it becomes so difficult to think of anything else. Just the boobs and you, and nothing else.. (STOP! *point noted*)

So yes, he is emotional. He is also vulnerable and that makes the whole show amazing. Unlike the other shows I've seen, this one does NOT trigger an irrationally long period of self pity, self loathing and a general sense of despair for never getting to first base. Hank's shit is so fucked up that you forget about your own junk and just want to see him and Karen getting back together.

The parts where his 12 year old daughter 'Becca' and he have conversations with her sharing her problems with him deserve a special mention. The to be goth rocker's liberal use of the words 'fuck' and 'asshole' (sometimes used to describe her father) don't seem out of place at all.

The show is a complete package. All the other series look like The Teletubbies now.

I have stayed up till 6a.m. on three separate nights watching Californication. And then dreamt of fornication for the next 8 hours. But the only fornication that ever seems like for me is Kaali-fornication. Sigh. I'm willing to settle, any takers?






NOTE: This post is dedicated to Elsa Joy who commented on my 'i will be back'. Thank you.

i will be back.

i will be back soon, now that it's over.

my valentine.

it's valentine's day. today is the day for young lovers, or so i've heard. today, two people who love each other (or two people pretending to love each other so that they don't feel lonely and can get some action in the sack) put in considerable effort to tell their partner that they love them.

i can see people waking around looking. some looking at that lovely person by their side. some looking with hazy eyes at the happy looking people, thinking about old times. some just staring and being obscene. then there's me. i'm looking too. but this time, for the first time in my life, i'm not one of those people. i was never the first kind, never the second, always the third. but today i'm looking at the sky.

the thoughts in my mind surprise me. i feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. but this isn't the annual "valentine's day... good for you archie's. sigh...", its different. i want to be with my valentine. the person i love more than anyone else in the whole world. i want to hug her, kiss her. i want to rest my head in her lap and slowly fall asleep there.

it's 10am. she's probably reading the paper right now. having breakfast. having her cornflake-biscuit pudding. in half an hour, she'll probably be watching tv and within 10 minutes she'll be nodding off. then she'll wake up suddenly, carelessly brush aside the things on the bed, curl up into a ball and take her 5 minute nap. at this point i would give her a kiss on her cheek. i wish i could.

i miss you mom.

happy valentine's day.

daily life, daily pictures.

Crude, but effective.











All you can do is hope its not winter!












For me and my kind, "It's over man. Stop running and stop drooling. Just stop."









.
NOTE:

These pictures were taken from a friend's facebook profile.

Thanks Sallu.

never again.

"this is madness."
"this is too much."
"this is weird."
"this is too much trouble."
"i'm never doing it again."
"this causes too much pain."
"this has messed up my life."
"this is the worst time in my life."

yet, he still does. we all do. if we don't, we sure wish we could.

we'll never understand this. i don't think we're supposed to understand, we are just supposed to do. and we do, do.

true story.

once upon a time there was a boy. he was 6 feet tall and considered himself a man. however, to the world, he was still a boy who had his habits. some good, some bad. one day, in the freezing cold, he decided that he needs to change. maybe it was the cold that gave him the crazy idea, maybe not. we'll never know. fuelled by his recent phase of unparalleled happiness, he made the tough decision.

with determination in every step, he went to his friend and asked him to lend him something that his friend hadn't used in a long time just like so many others around him. but this man-boy wanted be different.

he went to his own place of residence, and gathered the stuff he needed.

he reaches his destination. along the way many people look at him in amazement. respect visible in their eyes. some whispered that he wouldn't make it. but he did. he didn't turn and run.

once there, he took his place, hung his belongings. then with his friend's possession in his right hand, along with his own in the left he walked to the provider.

his worst fear had come true. not warm.. not warm.. the words echo in his head like a scream that wakes one up from a nightmare. he can't think for a moment. but soon, with all his strength he forces his trained mind to accept the fact that there would be no warmth to make his task easier.

he walks back to his belongings, secures his surroundings. takes his clothes off. he hesitates a little. then takes in one last breath of air...

and pours a mug full of cold water on his head. his insides scream for some warmth. but he has a bath. dries himself up. and goes back to his room. clean and proud.

true story.

repeat this course.

dope #1 "i think i'll repeat physics this sem."
dope #2 "i think i'll repeat bio this sem."
dope #1 "no, i think i'll go to iit this year."
dope #2 "i think i'll go to play football now.. oh hi girl. no i don't have plans! i can talk all day."

dope #3 who is writing this blog, "i really need to crap."

this is what the BITS cold does to you.

he prays.

he fumbles around with his key chain. it is a yellow ball suspended in liquid which is in another transparent ball. he tries to figure out which direction west is in. he gets up suddenly with a sense of determined nervousness, finds a compass and with his finger makes an impression on his bed's mattress. he picks up a tiny book and finds the right page. closes his eyes and he does something he had not done in two years and two months. he prays. and as he does, something deep inside someone sitting in the same room stirs, and he turns to look at those eyes and the peace in them. that is when he knows, it will happen when it has to. it will.

lonely boys in town.

two boys. two phones. two stories. two sighs. one college. one life. one blog. one post. one emotion. no hope.

change the calendar.

it time to change the calendar (i.e. it is time when you wish you knew vijay mallaya well, rather he knew you a little better).

ok, i'll be more serious this year. i'll try. ok, i won't, but i have to say it for political reasons.

in this note, i will thank some people. say something about this year and somethings about me. some of the people will know what i am saying, some won't.

The Freak Cho (FC)

all those people who endured the endless 'chemishrty' and 'physiks' labs, the "palakkanna call karoo ka?" threats and the akbar-birbal stories along with 'cheeni-kum', hats off. the sheer 'intensity' of it all should have killed us, but we made it through. or so we thought!

The Bored Exam

all those people who were with me when i was trying to bury my ego and my brain in order to clear this minor hurdle in my treacherous path towards doom, i say thank you. you threw your ego on the ground, just like i did, and peed on it, just like i did (only girls sat down to do so), this helped me along, for i realized that if lesser mortals can do it, so can i. and then began 6 days of endless brain insulting narendra prakashan and then some more days of writing the carefully crammed crap on the day of the 'exam'. and when the crap was over, we realized that the next stop is not much better.

Jaise Electric Execution (JEE)

all those people who tried to get through this alive and without suffering permanent physical, sexual, emotional or spiritual trauma, i commend your bravery. but we all now realize that it wasn't bravery, it was outright insanity! now, my fellow comrades (if males) you have earned yourself the lifetime pass of "no girls, only cheap fakes extravaganza!", (if females).. oh no point discussing hypothetical situation now, is there?

you will soon realize that the only way you can express your deepest frustration is /*insert obscenity here*/.

you my friends, have a done a great service to me. for you make me realize that i am not the only homo sapiens sapiens to have committed this blunder. thank you for making this world a more tolerable place for me to live in.

Bechare Itne Tarun Samlaingik (BITS) Note: Tarun-youth, Samlaingik-Gay

all those guys who were with me in my hour of mortal peril, in that one place on this earth that tells us what the post apocalyptic world would look like, to them i say thank you. you stuck with me pulling all nighters for tests, exams and no reason at all too. we ate the same mess 'food' and motivated each other to take another bite when our senses revolted and our hands ceased to move in the direction of our mouth. we read the endless tables together, wondering about the deeper meaning where there was none. the endless hours of himym and drooling at robin, the inspirational hours spent watching lenard in the big bang theory, giving me hope and the strength to dream again about the female form. all this while you were there making fun of me and reminding me that i will die alone, just to make sure i don't soar so high in my dreams that i crash hard. you are, and always will be the people whose pants i will take off for sadistic pleasure. thank you so much for being such an important part of my life.

till this point, the description was purely chronological. but there were some phases in my year which punctuated the timeline. they made me realize that even though i felt i am an engineer purely because of lack of talent, even though my soul tells me i'm not one, in the end i am. if these events would have been more pleasant, they could have been called my love life.

Being Creepy

once the letter writing and the the stalking had ceased, came a long phase of scratching my head thinking "what the fuck just happened" along with thoughts like "dude, maybe you should major in stalking with an honors degree in being creepy".

Being A Monkey

the phone calls everyday and the continuous messaging stopped. the daily reports of our highly dubious board exam preparation and the investigations into the mysterious disappearances of religious objects from outside exam halls had stopped. weird but memorable and touching incidents like the incoming call of a crying girl at 3am had stopped. the endless hours of debate stopped (in which i was trying to make the voice of the heart (not mine, i don't have one) be heard and facilitating a choice of career not specializing in Microsoft office rather one in which one was to waste time and energy being 'creative'. also i was trying to understand and explain the emotions of the awesome creature who can have very convoluted emotions sometimes and evoke the same in you (read mother) and as expected, failing on both accounts). after all of this stopped, everything stopped. all forms of electronic communication stopped. as did the arrival of sky scraping bills! this time there was a phase that mainly contained the one 'realization', "i am going to die alone".

Being A Kid

in the midst of all this were 'small people' who made a big impact on my so called life. they were there in times being their weird best. being super hopeful of my becoming more normal, and more sorted out in my head, which was not to be. these people drew the most pure emotions out of me without any of the additives that so commonly get me the surprising titles of "sick-fuck", "perv" and "disgusting man". to the contrary these people very cruelly confer upon me titles of "teddy bear", "nice guy" and "such a sweetheart" making you wonder what evil acts committed by you could justify such atrocities.

Being Awesome

then there are the diplomats. they very tactfully remain silent on any issue which requires one to express his/her opinion. they talk very sweetly and make you do the same, surprising you as you thought you were incapable of such acts. they go through excruciating agony every month yet play it down making you question your manhood when you think you suffer from any physical problem. as is the duty of all females, they make you feel worse about you in some way or the other and then they praise you making you feel awesome about yourself too. and you hate this, cause you know they are in control. but then all communication reduces to a trickle due to the massive minefield laid in the region of maximum exchange.

Being Weird

at last come the giants. these giants have a mysterious aura around themselves. they tell stories of massive transitions from a docile, dormant form to an aggressive and dominating present day form. they indulge in pleasures that only cause damage to the auditory sense of the mortal humans. they hold the ability to generate sound waves which can be interpreted as the anger of the heavens, the wrath of zeus, the very cause of earthquakes or the dawn of the day of judgement. they live in small herds of elite beings who hold an advantage over the lowly mortals like me, owing to their physical appearance. they reside in a place filled with highly specialized and highly trained neurons. not surprisingly, they have a very detailed and one of its kind mate selection programme which is so strict in its choice that it makes you wonder if they are in touch with the extra terrestrial who may make it through the programme as you are convinced that lowly mortal like you will never make it, implying no one on this planet will. yet, there seems to be some sort of bond growing between these giant and me. on one occasion both they and me pushed our boundaries of sleep to a new level and gave in to it only when both had fallen asleep in bed while talking to the other one. as this year comes to a close, hope remains that one day the programme is made easier. till then i have been given three particularly difficult tasks. one involving training of the three bones incus, malleus, and stapes in such a way that they may identify and vibrate harmonically with a certain set of frequencies which cause a pleasurable sensation in the giants. the second is for me to find a way to shift my area of residence to the neural paradise. and third, ensure that the hormones secreted in my body are interpreted in milder fashions to ensure larger plateaus of emotions of a particular kind. as for my physical appearance, that will be taken care of with time. as of now, the giants live in their world as the lowly mortals live in theirs. there exists a mutual respect for both. and the lowly mortals believe in their own awesomeness. while the giants wish to change the texture if their external covering over their neural net.

NOTE:

kindly excuse the pathetic end to the note. the first part was written on new year's eve out of happy emotions and personal drive while the second was written the next day purely due to reasons of reader satisfaction and consumer demand.

ANOTHER NOTE:

READERS ARE REQUESTED TO KINDLY IDENTIFY THEMSELVES AND LEAVE THEIR QUESTIONS AS COMMENTS. IF THEY ARE VERY PERSONAL QUESTIONS, KINDLY CONTACT ME VIA SECURED CHANNELS (this offer valid only in the absence of the Y chromosome).

YET ANOTHER NOTE:

all thoughts expressed in this work of literature are the thoughts of the author and is ready to face any social or legal inquiry or action that may be provoked by it. it will make the author happy if this action is severe.

FINAL NOTE:

this article is also available on my blog, to get its address kindly contact me through secured channels.

A NOTE WHICH WAS IMPORTANT ENOUGH TO FIND A PLACE EVEN AFTER THE FINAL NOTE:

Happy New Year :)

FOR THE GREATER GOOD:

kindly point out any spelling mistakes or typos that may have crept in.