Purple Brains (slang) :
(1) Are known to be eccentric, rambling, thoughtful and introspective.
(2) Are just plain dramatic and demented.
(3) have intellect with traces of acerbic wit, pop culture referntia and more.
I like procrastinating. It happens because I pick up work diligently at 12.30 AM/10.00 PM each day, knowing very well that I do my best work either around 4 PM or 2 AM. I can then spend four hours lost in meaningless forays within the interweb. On one such foray, I discovered the show 'New Girl'.
My immediate reaction was to dislike it because I've fallen out of love with Zooey Deschanel. I love her elder sister Emily much more and I can't stand her Maniac-Pixie-Dream-Girl thing any more. But as fate will have it, Bones went on a hiatus for a while and I was stuck having nothing else to do but watch New Girl. 12 episodes down, I feel sufficiently knowledgeable in ranting about it.
Why I Like 'New Girl' -
1. The male cast is good. Especially the guy who plays Schmidt. He's actually quite fun to watch.
2. The pace is good. Things move along and there is no unnecessary drama.
3. There is a whole life outside their apartment and bar unlike a certain other TV show.
4. Zooey Deschanel can occasionally be somewhat funny.
5. Lizzy Caplan is probably going to be a regular. This should probably be #1 on the list but Schmidt is genuinely entertaining.
Why I Disdain 'New Girl' -
1. The model "CeCe" is apparently Indian. Bitch, please. If she's Indian then I'm Oscar Wilde.
2. They won't tell me what exactly Schmidt does for a living! MOAR back story into Schmidt please.
3. It glorifies the "feminine - unicornsexist! - I'msocute - glitter! - baking" stereotype and does nothing for the "regular - neithermasculinenorfeminine - justplainjane" girls that most of us are.
4. I hate Zooey Deschanel's MPDG act. If you have to be socially awkward and unaware of what you're doing, do it like Temperance Brennan, not Jessica Day.
But I'm still going to watch it, because I want to know what Schmidt does next. Also, what his first name is. And I kinda need a break from Criminal Minds.
After a fairly long time, I started reading through something that previously was a large part of my life some two years ago. I opened up and read through a few of the blogs I used to follow and before I knew it, that little smile had started creeping up my lips.
Between Blogger, Tumblr and Wordpress, I have discovered some unusual, some hilarious and some understanding souls. The one common thing between all of them? They made me feel a lot less alone. Everything these people have said, from stories of childhood spent in the midst of books to feeling dizzy at the very idea that adulthood has crept up on us in the past four years, has resonated with me. Even today, when feeling whimsical and unable to settle down, these blogs made me feel at ease. A sincere wave of peace does come calling, slowly washing over my thoughts, when their sentences flow through the pages. For these people have in a way, showed me the path that lies ahead.
Most of them have brought to me, more writers and poets to lodge my sensibilities in. Others have conferred upon me an understanding of art that is oft lost in our textbooks-and-tables world. Some others have taught me that it absolutely fine to be sitting in the same position in front of the laptop for a few days, resembling a somewhat unkempt hobo, if it means you can be productive and loving towards everybody else for months afterwards. Indeed, it does strike me that I have seen so many people grow over the course of four years, from tattle-tale emotional poems to an actual understanding of their position 'twixt space and time.
Sensibly and graciously, these bloggers have used Shakespearean anecdotes and Wilde-esque stories to delight their audience. And then, there the wild-childs, who in their complete anonymity have typed roundabout phrases that suddenly make the most sense to me.
It reminds me over and over again that no matter how far or how long I may escape, the only world that I belong to with dedicated fervor and grace is the one of reading and being read.
I can get very anal when it comes to purchasing phones. I wanted to buy a Samsung Corby for a while, but the fonts in it turned me off so completely that I stuck to wonderful Sans Serif typeface on my N73. When the N73 graciously decided to throw in the towel after two long years of abuse, I moved on to the C5. The Nokia C5 is a brilliant phone, I tell you. However, as you may have noticed, this post is not about my Nokia C5.
It happens to be about my Android. I'm not entirely sure why I purchased this HTC Wildfire S in the first place, much like why I am not sure why I am typing out the model names so specifically. I believe it had something to do with the urge to play more levels of Angry Birds. I won't admit to that, however. It seems entirely wasteful to stop using a phone as brilliant as my C5 just to play Angry Birds.
Then again, my Android has turned out to be no less remarkable. In fact, after having had used for some six months, I may actually have a list of reasons as to why I threw in the 'I HEART NOKIA!' towel and moved on.
1. It had Angry Birds. Notice the 'had'. It is now gone. I have found better uses of the phone memory.
2. I no longer get lost in Delhi, or anywhere else, for that matter. I have GOOGLE MAPS! I can now find my way about town without the constant nagging fear that I will get lost and mater dearest will call child services.
3. It has conversation view. I'm a sucker for pineapples and conversation views.
4. It lets me shut GPRS on and off as required. People who have drained their Nokia batteries twice a day because of GPRS will understand. Also, Wi-Fi support.
5. I can now Whatsapp and Gtalk with people, meaning I save on daily SMS's.
6. It syncs everything with my google account, which sucks if my family ever found the password but is otherwise great. Something I found out only after losing all my contacts. (All you blogger friends, message me yours!)
7. I operate a touch screen phone now and have avoided carpel tunnel syndrome till the days when I sit down to write my novel come calling.
8. I can load apps on the phone. Apps are these interesting things that can do a lot of stuff, if you just know where to look. For example, I can now blog from my phone. I can look for places to eat immediately. I can search for stuff on the internet.
9. It is my only inspiration to get into shape. I can track exactly how many kilometers I have walked and the calories lost, which means I no longer can entertain lurid fantasies of having walked ten kms and lost 2000 calories.
I won't say that now I can check my mail, because I was checking my mail on my Nokia phones as well. But I can check my mail faster now, does that count?
I still pine after the C5, for reasons such as - "You've been using it the WHOLE day and you STILL have battery left for tomorrow?" Android phones have a terrible battery life. But hey, at least I'm avoiding carpel tunnel for the while.
I suppose I've always loved the tranquility of life far more than anything else it has had on offer. And maybe, just maybe it is a resigned acceptance of the accelerated pace of life even when nothing really changes. Perhaps it is melancholy better disguised in form and feeling. But as far back as I can remember, neither the adrenaline rush of days spent hectically nor the slow trajectories of lives around me have been quite as beautiful as tranquility. Both in its simplicity and complicity of our souls, it is a marvel to behold.
Tranquility. It is in the soft murmurs of the vagrant night, where evolution has yet not stripped dogs of their lupine memories. Their echoing howls mix in with the slight bass of the trucks that incessantly blow their horns on a near empty highway, bringing back memories and melodies in equal amounts. All of which is heavily sighed upon, while sitting upright, legs tucked under the chin - a pose of tranquil - that many before have assumed. Till of course, the eyelids burgeon with helplessness and sleep spreads it's own peaceful embrace over a lonely young 'un in her bed.
It is in the cantankerous winter mornings, where one might choose to spend a little more of their life under the soft warmth of a blanket and nothing more is desired than the ability to shift from the bed to the woolen caress of daily life. Yet, such mornings are undeniably peaceful especially when the home is rid of all other human presence, leaving one free to gaze soulfully at a patch of sunlight chosen by the pet dog to sunbathe in. Indeed, what is truly unhurried - such as the morning routines - is what is most precious as time runs past by.
It is in the unfurling haze of morning dew as the world wakes up and for a moment, we are all but nature's children who no longer have a connection with the material world. It is found in the suspension of all senses required to fully appreciate the work of Mr. Poe. Such tranquil moments are few and far in between, but nonetheless, they inspire for longer than reality does. And quite possibly, that is the sole point of difference between the dreamers and realists, for us dreamers search for the tranquil mind, over and over again.
Signing Out, Resignedly beneath the sky, The melancholy waters lie.