Most kids on this website don’t even know what this is
That’s a coffee table
Welcome to the Blog of a person who has Athazagoraphobia. Please do not get cantankerous.
Most kids on this website don’t even know what this is
That’s a coffee table
Ellen’s favorite tweets of the week. [video]
Holy fuck. I never really understood how they caught birds before, I assumed they had to sneak up on them.
How was this even caught on camera?
Cats. Just wow.
Amazon Prime Air is a delivery system Amazon Inc. plans to implement into their service by the year 2015. Small packages purchased through Amazon.com will be shipped to the buyer via air drone in as little as 30 minutes.
I don’t even know what half of this food is supposed to be but I don’t fucking care, I want it. look at how fucking delicious everything looks. if you dare to even say looking at this doesn’t make you hungry, I know you’re a lying little piece of shit.
I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK THE PARENTS IN SPIRITED AWAY WERE EVEN EATING BUT I HAVE WANTED TO EAT THAT SHIT FOR YEARS I DON’T GIVE ANY FUCKS IF I TURN INTO PIG GIVE ME THAT FOOD
Just OMG, where has this been all my life?! There isn’t that awesome cheese from Heidi, though.
As cool as a GameBoy GIF can get. :D
I’m afraid of the dark now. I was, for a whole lot of years, when I was younger, but it went away for quite a while, before reappearing the right after having watched The Conjuring.
I thought I could handle a paranormal horror movie. I really thunk so. But it turns out I can’t. It’s been more than two weeks since I saw it, and I still imagine, sometimes quite vividly, those horrible images from the movie, when I go to sleep. It actually makes me want to not sleep and just deal with the resultant headaches. Stupidity. -_-
Do they exist? Ghosts? Poltergeists? Demons? Do people get possessed? I’ve heard quite a few stories about them to think that they might, but then, that means that there’s a good section of them too, right? Like, cute little panda ghosts? Or maybe Charlie Chaplin’s? I’d just like to think that those kind of spirits protect me.
I’ve never had “the” experience, like some of my friends claim to have, except for maybe feeling a little scared in abandoned places, and I’m really thankful for that. I’d like to think that I’m just too dull-headed and numb to be sensitive enough to “feel” them. Thank God for that, then. Literally. I want it to stay that way until I myself get the chance to choose whether to trouble people on this planet after breathing my last, at which point, I hopefully choose to go away.
Also, if, by any chance, you’re a tech-savvy spirit wandering the interwebs, and come across this because of the hashtags or whatever, you won’t have any fun with me. Seriously. I’m easy prey! You’d have way more fun with other people that I know. Really. Okay? Okay.
This’s such a touchy topic - death and unfinished businesses and all that. I keep thinking of ways to make it less horrifying and scary, and all I can think about is happy music. It really helps. And also, probably sleeping with someone you trust. Since I can’t do that now, I’ll stick to music. Carnatic raagas like Sankarabharanam, songs like “All I need”, “Let’s get retarded”, etc help. Really! I’m not kidding.
I don’t know how much longer it’ll take for me to get rid of this stupid phobia, and I hope it’s soon, but until then, I’m going to rely on humour to lighten the mood and make me think happy thoughts. As always.
All it took were a few crazy photos, and I feel so different now. Like I’m back to being the whacky, witty guy I was a few years ago. That part of me never changed, but it became a little dormant, without me realizing it. And now it’s back with even more pomp and vigor. Keeping up a more stable, more mature composure got me nothing. I never really consciously thought of acting that way, but that’s what became of my outer personality - maybe because of the new people in my life, or maybe because of the many small changes that’ve been happening over the last few months, but it happened, and I don’t really know why. The only thing I know, is that that’s not the person that I actually am. It was just a phase, and now I’m back to being Govi. Wit, alacrity, humour and all.
Twitter brought about this revival, sort of, actually. It’s not the only reason, but yeah, it is partly to blame. The way in which I can become so free with the way I think, and with the way I type, on Twitter, is alarmingly great. You only live once, and I really want to make the most of it. People who are not going to let that happen, will have to wait for me to do my thing, if they want something from me. It’s as simple as that. Obviously, this doesn’t entail me to ditch responsibilities, but it also doesn’t mean that everything I do ought to be meaningful in the normal sense. That’s just not humanly possible - to do meaningful things all the time, that benefit everyone, and be happy at the same time. Maybe those Tibetan monks and lamas can do it, but no sirrie, not me. I’m sorry, but I’m just too selfish to be able to do things like that.
I recently came across a Tweet claiming that there’s a study that says that happy people usually become happier by spending more time and money on experiences, rather than on material possessions. I can see the point in that, but then, it’s not really a total black and white topic. There are a plethora of shades of grey in between. Sure, there are experiences that produce happiness on their own, but then, there are also material possessions that do so whilst giving us an experience too. BAM. I just earned a degree in philosophy. Or is it psychology? Hmm.
As I type this out, I can see that I’m only typing this out now because I’m in this mood now. I’m always not like this, and as is with everyone, I am prone to mood swings too. I agree that I might come across as being a tad too irritable (“HAW, really, Govinda?! You, and irritable? Such nonsense!”), but that’s just another human emotion. Can’t help it, okay?
I was also thinking about this - people tend to think that I’m too critical about things.
“ABOUT THINGS.” My point exactly. Most people tend to be judgmental (or critical, if you want to use that word here) about other people. “Look at that guy, all swag and stuff. Pfft.”, “Look at that girl wearing so much make-up. Pfft.”, “OMG, did you hear that guy speak in English?! LOL.”, and so on. Not good stuff. Not helping anyone. Not good at all. Sure, making jokes about other people with your friends, in that moment, might feel good, but then, whenever I’m in a situation like that, I feel guilty. I know my flaws, and I know I’m not perfect, so it makes me uneasy to diss about another person. Call me a goodie goodie, I don’t care. That’s how I feel.
The same can not be said about what comes out of my mouth and inanimate/non-human things. Grammar, typos, stupidly designed things like products, posters, ads, etc; badly placed fonts in ads; food, etc produce in me a very critical fire that breathes on such badly-made stuffs. I need to point out mistakes in them. “Bah, Govi, you notice things toooooooo much!”, “Jeez, get a life. The coffee tastes fine. -_-”, “Mnch. Govi and his criticisms. Gosh. :|” - things I hear all the time. But, you see, it’s a totally different thing altogether - being a stickler for grammar and proper seasoning in food, and being a gossip monger.
Isn’t it? The former would, at the maximum, push the maker of the badly-made thing in question, to better themselves, even though they, along with everyone one else who witnesses the dissing of said bad thing, get annoyed by me. The latter would, at the maximum, tear someone apart - be it someone who struggles with talking to people, or someone who has an eating disorder. They both play with feelings - like we all do. But there’s such a drastic difference, that I can’t believe I haven’t realized it till so late into my criticizing life!
We keep hearing that change is the most constant thing in life, and so it is (and you don’t know how surprised I am about how I remembered this little tidbit of philosophical info =)) ), but there are some very basic, intrinsic characteristics of your personality that you can not and should not change! Being critical is a part of this category of things about me that should not be changed, and that’s just how it is. I always end up getting influenced by people who say that I need to change this, and then I try, and it doesn’t really work out for anyone. The time has come for me to realize that they should really be doing just one thing - get lost. Seriously! They don’t know me enough to realize that it’s who I am. And I regret not having gotten enlightened about this much sooner. It would’ve saved me so many weeks of gloominess and grumpiness. Okay, not so many, but a few, alright?!
It’s like a cycle, you know? Realize something, have happy times, get lost in the flow, lose your guard, get grumpy, stay grumpy, realize the “thing” again, and on it goes. I guess that this happens to everyone. Unless you’re a monk. If you are, could you please contact me? I’d like to know if there’s anything I can do about this annoying cycle. =))
This post’s long, and I know it. I know it swerved into a different direction all of a sudden in the middle, and I know that someone someday will come across this, and feel better about themselves. I’m happy for that. It’s sad that I live in a city where new blog-worthy experiences seldom happen. But that’s okay. Quality over quantity. I’m in the mood to make some whacky videos. So, if, by some miracle, you are too, and you somehow come across this post, contact me.
*And I know that that’s never going to happen, so, woohoo. =)) *
I remember watching this. =))
Jupiter Structural Layer Cake
at the boundaries between science and the culinary arts
People actually called (still do, sometimes) me crippled. As a joke, yes, but gosh, it’s the truth. As long as my left foot’s got bandage on it, with the hideous cast shoe dangling from it (because the cast’s off, and it’s loose now), I’m crippled. Handicapped. Broken. But then, aren’t we all? Okay fine, I’m just twisting that around to see if it makes any sense. For good measure! It doesn’t.
But then, you know what, I’m not kidding, butI love myself.
That’s because I’ve gone through the past month happier than anything that I thought I’d be, the moment I realized that I’d be stuck with this fracture for a long time. Although I thought I’d be writing about it a whole lot more in the beginning it, I’m glad that it proved to be otherwise. The days went by quite normally, except for my sleeping patterns, which just didn’t budge to go back to normal, as much as I tried. So I just embraced it - I slept whenever I felt sleepy, because hey! - I didn’t really have to go anywhere or do anything - I was my own boss.
I caught up on some reading, music, a brilliant TV show (Parenthood), and there were very few instances where I actually felt bored, to the chagrin of most of the un-Broken people that I told this to. They probably didn’t (and still don’t) believe me, but that’s alright - I don’t really care.
A week ago, once the Plaster of Paris support was off my leg, I started going to the gym. (I went a day before that too, out of sheer frustration from not having worked out for three whole weeks.) This, proved to be amazing. I felt great being back there, working out amongst the people-whose-faces-I-knew-but-whose-names-I-knew-not. Sure, I couldn’t do anything that involved stressing the legs, but there was still so much to do! I bet quite a few of them thought that I could’ve just stayed at home, instead of coming there, walking slower than them, and in turn, coming in their way, and then limping away, gathering more attention than them and their bodies, but forsooth, I don’t really care. The trainers were really nice about it, though, and all of them palpably offered the same advice - to sit down and do stuff that don’t stress the foot.
One thing I’ve noticed in general, is that I’ve become softer. I have more patience, and I think I’ve actually become less mean. Yes, I admit it - I’m a bit of a meanie when you know me well. Tee hee hee. >:)
I hope that all of this remains the same once I get back on my feet (ha ha), and that my new-found appreciation for being nice finds its way out into every situation I land in where it’s needed.
The gripes? Well, bathing and other bathroom-duties become a little irritating. I can’t really complain though - it’s a part of the package. Also, people asking questions - answering about it a couple of times is fine, but gosh, I think I’ve explained the fracture and the accident about a hundred times, so far. Sure, they’re just concerned, and what to know how such a horrible thing befell this amazing person standing in front of them, but sheesh, it’s gotten on my nerves.
Sure, it’s just a few broken toes, and yes, I’ll be buying more pairs of shoes than ever, and then wear them almost everywhere, because I don’t want this to happen again (I probably could’ve avoided the abrasion on the foot if I’d been wearing shoes at the time :/ ), but I’m actually glad that I got this time-off because of the fracture.
I learnt that I actually like myself a lot. So yeah - I love myself. And I’m actually grinning like an idiot, whilst typing this. :D
My bio clock’s stopped ticking in the correct time zone. Sheesh. The past two weeks (okay, two weeks by tomorrow), I’ve become a semi-vegetable - just lounging in front of the TV, eating, reading, practicing music, and almost nothing else other than sleeping, excluding the above mentioned activities. The fracture made sure that that’s the case.
Sure, in the start, it was like usual - sleep between 1 and 2 AM, and wake up a little late, at around 10. But then, my body got used not doing much else. The metabolism must’ve slowed down even below it’s usually-fat-storing ways.
Soon, a week later, bed time extended to 3 AM. I couldn’t bear idly rolling around on the bed, even with music, so I resorted to random saunters on the internet. This went on for a few days, and then it happened - I crossed some dastardly threshold - a threshold that saved me from becoming nocturnal. Now that it had happened, going back wasn’t so easy - I couldn’t do anything! Literally! Because I have to hop around the house to move, and the weather being as naïvely sultry as it is, I couldn’t do that a lot, which made me stick to one or two places, and become quite anabolic.
Forsooth, I started sleeping at 5 AM, then 5.30, and even 6. The neighbours woke up, went about their elderly duties; the birds chirruped, the sun shone its rays o’er the whole place. And I’d still be up. Gosh!
This’s been going on for the past week - I sleep at about 5 or 6, and get up at about noon, in time to just come out and catch the two hours of chuckle-inducing comedy that emanates from certain shows on Comedy Central as Happily Divorced, Dharma and Greg, and the like.
Seems quite nice, doesn’t it? It does. But then it sucks you in, and you know that if you don’t get out of its clutches, you’ll be held captive far longer than it takes for the flyover in Vizag to be completed (for those of you who don’t know - a small, ~2 Km flyover in the heart of the city, whose construction started in late 2008, hasn’t been completed yet, although the “authorities” say that it’ll be done “soon”.)
So, to tackle this innocently monstrous problem, I am subjecting myself to sleep deprivation - yes, you read it right - I haven’t slept in about 24 hours now, and although I faltered along the way, Coke, Parenthood (a show that I think I’m already addicted to, not having watched even four episodes of), coffee, food, a splash of water on the face, and TV have kept me on the right path.
I don’t feel that sleepy anymore, possibly because I need to rather be a little awake in order to make my faculties dole out what you’re reading at the moment.
I expect to sleep in around 2 more hours, after having had a hopefully-palatable dinner - more than a day after having had a nap - so as to sleep through the night, and wake up quite early (at about 8 or 9) in the morning, to the sound of multiple alarms set in the intervals of either 10 or 15 minutes (a deed that needs careful thinking, though one might not assume so.)
It seems like a fool-proof plan, doesn’t it? It sure does. If it doesn’t work, I’ll probably wake up in the middle of the night, cursing myself a little for not having slept longer. Oh well, in that case, I’ll just go back to watching Parenthood.