Science and Literature
If there is any easy way to confound myself, it must be with regard to my work. I do not have the courage to find a concrete position for myself where I do not stumble across the same path, the path where I am at the crossroads and have to decide between science and literature again and again. To remove this mess from my head, I always retrieve the idea that unifies both fields. I say to myself: Everything is connected. And continue doing my thing. Some amazing things to notice about this dilemma is how I managed these thoughts to enter my field when I was in the middle of my master’s degree and when I would not have any means to change the course at the given point in time and when the right thing would be to follow the system and complete all the responsibility thoroughly. Clearly, I am not a good student.
Having said that, ultimately, we are not the students of science or literature, or for that matter, any field we are working with. We are students of ourselves. Science and literature, to me, are just tools through which I learn about myself. And maybe that is why it is hard for me to separate my work from my life. I do not fragment my life into work and personal. All the problems in my personal life will reflect on my work life and vice-versa. If there is one thing I am reluctant to change, it is of course this thing. For me, whatever I work with, be it science, arts, or just having a conversation with friends, everything is a part of a whole, which cannot be fragmented. For me, there is no concept like work-life balance.
Tears
Hard to say, but I am ripped from my love life. Yet this won’t generate any tears as it does when I fail to be aware of tiny little things. This along with the fact that instincts sometimes desert me and leave me naked in front of others, at times when I have to answer questions rather more instantly, when I have to rely on my instincts; this combination brings a lot of blues in my head.
I am a highly neurotic person. I am a victim of my mind. And I want to change. When I say all the above things, it involves a lot of recollection of my past, and since I forget a lot of things–though this is almost a voluntary forgetting, a forgetting by choice–I, too, admit my tears to distant myself time and time again. The state of mind that follows is a sad little happy phase without tears. I know, for you all, it might be hard to follow. But I really want to make things simple for you.
Forgetting does not mean to say I am trying to escape from my problem. Rather, I am using the word interchangeably with another word, ‘destruction.’ I destroy myself time and time again. But certain leftovers always remain at bay, which pulls my being back to that state in some dire and appropriate condition–let’s say, in the condition when I have to use my instincts.
I think my problem lies in some kind of confusion that I have to be instantaneous. I am confusing myself between spontaneity and compulsion. Where spontaneity is a trait of a person, compulsion is psychological. Compulsion is a need to respond immediately. Spontaneity is not a need. And I think, under some conditions, I become extremely compulsive and react without adding any conscious voice to it, which eventually saddens me through and through, and tears fall on my cheeks, chin, and neck out of frustration.
Food
Sway away the picture of a sweet; I won’t buy it. The meaning of the word ‘sweet’ has been lost from my culinary dictionary for quite a time. Losing the memory is related to the infrequent usage of things. And I have not exercised this temptation for quite a time, and hence, the temptation to have sweet is lost.
Not that I won’t eat sweets in the future. The thing about me is that I do not close the door to any possibility or impossibility simultaneously.
Parents
I am proud of my mother and father. They have managed to overcome something incredible. The amazing thing to notice about one’s parents is how they keep learning things not only about their children but also, in relationship to them and others, their own selves. Just like how they had a broad delight on their face when I would learn anything as a baby, to talk, to walk, and everything, I have a similar delight but perhaps with a lesser degree of vivacity when I see them learning about this changing world, about my complicated personality, and when I see our bonds getting stronger and stronger. I am truly grateful to have parents such as my mother and father.
Clothes
If you asked me anything about clothing around five years ago, I would not have the answer, or should I say, the interest in answering your question. Clothes were nothing but a cloth to me. I would wear anything that comes in my hand. However, now surely things are different. I have slid myself to the opposite pole in terms of it. And it is one thing that my style has become somewhat fashionable, while it is a completely different story whether or not I am able to exercise such a fashion in the long run due to my modest bank balance. In fact, if you put a gun on my head and asked what one thing I would purchase, immediately the word that would pop out from my mouth is–books.
Books
I have complex thoughts when it comes to books. Simply put, books are excellent things, but not everything; we should not give them so much importance that we put them on a pedestal higher than our being. We are so dependent while reading them: Our thoughts, emotions, and consequently, our actions are all passengers in the journey that books take us on. But we must also see the footnote, the signpost on the road, which says, “Have you reached your actual destination?”