Friday, 16 March 2012

The beauty of relatable literature

I was browsing through some of my Kindle clippings, looking for a particularly good paragraph that I found the other day, when I had a moment of abashed self awareness.

I realised that there was this common thread running through most of the passages that struck me with their beauty and/or truth. They were all related to the most ruminated on and rehashed issues of a young adult's life - the prioritizing of ambition or love, the fulfillment of life's potential, the search for a home and what it means. I don't think these passages have helped me come to any sort of reconciliation or revelation. However, there is a wry kind of sweetness that fills my heart when I think about my participation in this communal cognitive rite of passage.
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That was her trouble then - She dreamed of a greater kind of love than the kind displayed in the library. But she was also filled with a nameless ambition that had nothing to do with love. What exactly did she want? It was an ambition that wouldn't let her compete for or seek the same things others sought.
- Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese


The intellect of man is forced to choose
perfection of the life, or of the work, 
And if it take the second must refuse
A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.
When all that story's finished, what's the news?
In luck or out the toil has left its mark:
That old perplexity an empty purse,
Or the day's vanity, the night's remorse.
- The Choice by Yeats


Droll thing life is, that mysterious arrangement of merciless logic for a futile purpose. The most you can hope from it is some knowledge of yourself that comes too late, a crop of unextinguishable regrets.
- Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad


I wished to know the meaning of things. I am the meaning. I wished to find a warrant for being. I need no warrant for being, and no word of sanction upon my being. I am the warrant and sanction... It is my mind which thinks, and the judgment of my mind is the only searchlight that can find the truth... Many words have been granted me, and some are wise, and some are false, but only three are holy: "I will it!" Whatever road I take, the guiding star is within me... I know not if this earth on which I stand on is but a speck of dust lost in eternity. I know not and I care not.
- Anthem by Ayn Rand


Wasn't that the definition of home? Not where you are from, but where you are wanted?
- Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese


This one is not from a book, but a movie, nevertheless, I think it fits in here. From Garden State -
Andrew: You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden even though you have some place where you put your shit, that idea of home is gone.
Sam: I still feel at home in my house.
Andrew: You'll see one day when you move out it just sort of happens one day and it's gone. You feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist. Maybe it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't ever have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I don't know, but I miss the idea of it, you know. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people that miss the same imaginary place.
Sam: Maybe

Sunday, 11 March 2012

The wind in Shanghai

I don't think I can ever fully articulate the kind of connection that I have with Shanghai. It is as if it made a slit in the skin between my ribs, slid in there, and is now living comfortably with the rest of my viscera. Once in a while, when it is afraid that I would forget its existence, it prods at my insides, jostling them, so as to stir up the old dust.

My memories of Shanghai have haunted me in so many different ways that I am starting to lose count. They have appeared in the form of my favorite streets, in a palpable tingle of the memory of a hug, in the image of someone's brown and orange gloves, in the glistening grains of fried rice nestled within a styrofoam box, and most recently, the chilly wind of the Shanghai night.

- I would be standing on the main passage in wanda facing guoding lu, flanked on one side by burger king and the other by that shop that sold the leather belts and shoes. Behind me, the glass protrusion that signaled an escalator down into the mall. Always, it is night and there is a chill. The tone of the night feels like autumn, but I'm sure it is spring. Sometimes I'm standing with G, and it is the night M texted me about getting into Med school. I remember that night, there was something heady in the air. Other times, I am just standing there alone, looking out into guoding lu. The wind, it always blows.


Friday, 9 March 2012

Bullsh**

Contradictions. Of late, within the personal domain, I have been excusing inconsistencies in myself and the people around me with the two words "human nature". I do understand and accept that human beings are mostly irrational and unpredictable creatures.  After all, who better than a psychology student to point out the fallibility of human reasoning. This particular trait is not conscious or intentional on our part. Our minds are just masters of wrongful attribution, memory tweaking and delusion. These actually help us maintain our self-esteems and decent mental health.

I however, am starting to get fed up with such ridiculousness. As we get older, it just seems as if everything can be explained away by admitting human fallibility, it has actually become the mature and scientific point of view. Inconsistencies in speech and thought now seem to be fully excusable and understandable. Honestly, it drives me crazy. Inconsistencies in people make me mad. Consistency should be a trait that we should strive for. The existence of consistency makes us accountable to at least a semblance of reason. It makes a person more predictable and dependable. If we all get to change our minds and our actions whenever we want, there would be absolute chaos. No one can be trusted to keep to their word, every comment or sentence that comes out of our minds would only hold for that particular second and situation.

I know I am catastrophizing here... but I kinda just want to hear something that someone says about their personal life and trust that it is not going to be bullshit in a month or two.