Monday, December 19, 2005

Quality of Life

A group of alumni, highly established in their careers, got together to visit their old University of Notre Dame lecturer.

Conversation soon turned into complaints about stress in work and life. Offering his guests coffee, the lecturer went to the kitchen and returned with a large pot of coffee and an assortment of cups - porcelain, plastic, glass, some plain-looking and some expensive and exquisite, telling them to help themselves to hot coffee.

When all the students had a cup of coffee in hand, the lecturer said: "If you noticed, all the nice-looking, expensive cups were taken up, leaving behind the plain and cheap ones.

While it is but normal for you to want only the best for yourselves, that is the source of your problems and stress.

"What all of you really wanted was coffee, not the cup, but you consciously went for the better cups and are eyeing each other's cups.

"Now, if Life is coffee, then the jobs, money and position in society are the cups. They are just tools to hold and contain Life, but the quality of Life doesn't change."

"Sometimes, by concentrating only on the cup, we fail to enjoy the coffee in it."
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Cheers

Friday, December 02, 2005

Uncomprehending


Quit searching for the archives, I haven't provided a link to them that's why. Wonder why? Simple - because the past is not worth recollecting. You experience it, learn from it and then you move on. Keeping records of it would probably only refresh the continual memories of it be it good or bad.

A Chronic Sense of Loneliness has over-taken me. I'm not even sure if this entry was meant for just another outburst or simply a pause in my life to attempt to create a frozen frame aka Matrix Effect. Freeze the time and let everything become crystal clear. Seize the moment and maixmise the effects of revelations.




Raising the palms and curling them into fists, tensity but no additional motion. Knuckles whitening and fingers tightly clenched, fingernails digging slowly into the moist skin characterised by sweaty palms. Muscles showing faint green veins coming into view.

Teeth clenched.

Eyes are dazed and unfocused, staring. Staring at white sheets of paper peppered with lines and lines of black symbolic patterns. Characters. Familiar yet repulsive. A faint dose of nausea and a bout of slow anger.

Staring at the symbols attempting to make sense of the impending madness.

Pupils becoming dilated, the iris scanning over the symbols trying to create interaction. Electronic signals are giving constant negative interpretations. Buzz after buzz of wrong signals, confusing the brain, sending widespread pandemonium throughout the information highway. Massive traffic jam and a scene of chaos. No moderator in sight, no traffic control.

The fist crashes down onto the table, teeth clenched still.

Faster and faster, the iris scans the symbols while the intenity of the buzz elevates dramatically. Tiny beads of sweat droplets forming on the high forehead, collating slowly as they gain weight and slide down integrating with one another until it becomes a visible sweat droplet.

A swift motion of the sweeping arm, files are sent crashing to the marble-tiled floor.

Crouched into a corner, allowing the darkness to celebrate its victory with it comrade Madness.

Crouching, shivering.