Pax.

Pax is Latin for 'peace'. And I think the world could do with it. Anyone depicting peace as a dove is spot on. Which free bird stays on your hand too long, anyway? They're a pretty elusive species (much to the dismay of hungry meat-eaters). The idea of peace isn't that easy to grasp either.

There's always someone out there to screw your happiness. And if there isn't , life will send someone over anyway. Sanity's getting harder to find. I don't understand how everybody around is becoming as fragile as a pack of cards. Knock one set down and all others around sink, in a dramatic collapse (here's when I remember the Domino scene from V for Vendetta, but never mind).

And somehow, I see people more than eager to pick a fight. They're just the sort of people you'd want to see locked up in a Bigg Boss house (to set the place on fire). That, or make fight clubs for them. Lord knows, they need it. This is a world where dictatorships, violence, technology and culture coincide. And people can't seem to handle it. Everyone's just getting more and more isolated. More stupid. More self-centred. More insufferable. More intolerant. In fact... so  much more intolerant.

If we have to disconnect, why can't we detach from the negativity all around us, instead of those close to us? Why do we embrace negativity and shun those who love us? Why do we become like something or someone we didn't want to, to begin within? My uncle, a reasonably wise person, once said that we are a sum total of the five people closest to us. By 'closest', we mean proximity or maximum level of interaction. You don't need to have an emotional attachment to them. You just need to be around them.

And after some time... you begin to realise you are becoming like them. That's gotta hurt. But it doesn't have to. Stay collected. Stay grateful.

If you've got internet and you're reading this, you're probably also one of the privileged few who don't have to worry about sirens and curfews. You don't have to pray for an air-bomb to crash land into your living room. You're probably not off to war, in a land far away from family.

I'm just saying that there could be worse things that can happen. And worse does happen. Our lot is relatively better.

Even if everyday is a struggle, you do what you have to. Pick yourself up and try again. Shut off those annoying sounds, block out those annoying people, turn down the blinds every now and then. Just breathe. And remember that you are NEVER alone. Take it from someone who knows.

Resurrection of a sleepy specimen's blog

So far so good. Out of college? Check. Time invested in productive and paying activities? Check. Getting enough sleep? Meh. Yeeeah. Sort of.

Getting to write?

*thinks hard*

Well, yes and no.

My job entails that I do. It's wonderful work and my immediate colleagues are the best. I still haven't had the privilege of making my acquaintance with the rest of the office, but that just might be a good thing. Your tendency to like people is inversely proportional to the info you have on them.

Meanwhile. On my writing front.

This blog was the first to curse me. I think my last post was when I was in *checks* SYBMM. Oh. Wow. Okay, that is a long time. A year and four months ago. Jesus. What happened? A lot, apparently. I grew up. I made friends. I held on to the ones I already had. Became more passionate about the things I believed in. Calmer in my beliefs of the same.

Do I feel weird that college has ended? No. Upset? No. I can never be, for something that was the best thing to have happened to me. And any ex-alumni will know that you can never bid my college adieu. A real and true farewell just doesn't happen. I'm glad. I like some of my apron strings attached.

The road ahead is long, curvy and quite a blind-spot. Anybody my age reading this post would feel the same way. It's the state of most graduates, unless you've had the privilege to sort or be sorted. In which case I would LOVE to be your friend and disciple.

No, my pondering wanders into the dicey territory of creative writing. I am confronted by a white quietude wherever I look. It could be the neatly lined page of a diary. The bright starkness of this blog page (STOP STARING, OKAY!?!). And my inner concern that I may not be able to do them justice.

What if we keep sitting here, this page and I, staring, till my eyes bleed out? It just looms over my head. Preposterous, really, until you stop to think. What if your ability, if untapped for long, fades away? Just goes, whoosh, to someone who would be more indulgent with it? Like a dejected suitor finding solace in the arms of a MUCH HOTTER broad. (Okay, that metaphor went a bit too far).

I'm rambling, I know. This is exactly why I don't drink. I probably wouldn't be able to shut the hell up. But there's something about this post-graduation life that has my thoughts criss-crossing like centipedes on fire. It's evident from this post. I had no idea what I was going to say when I began typing. And now I can't stop. It's a pile of incomprehensible gibberish, anyway.

And I need to be in bed soon. Work beckons. If I'm lucky, I'll probably not oversleep after having bizarre dreams of kung fu-ing Korean men and Oldboy playing on a DVD which was supposed to feature Rome, Open City. Yes, I said 'bizarre'. If you're grammar nazi enough to substitute it with a better word, go ahead. Make my night.

While I'm off to make my day. Starting right now.

So good night. Keep dreaming. Keep working. And keep reading. Keeps the noggin a-tickin'. I'll just try to be regular with this little space right here.