Unwell

Im not crazy, Im just a little unwell
I know right now you can't tell
But stay awhile and maybe then you'll see
A different side of me...

It's tough being ill - weak enough to be completely apathetic to the world around me, but not weak enough to forget all about it and sleep. The mind thinks at three times its usual speed, not about practical, useful things but half-baked, diaphanous notions that flit in and out of it, not giving me enough time to fully take note of them. One of these made its way slimily into my fever-numbed brain during the first class of the day, and stayed there until I had to leave in between stating inability to concentrate due to acute disiniterest. Alright, I said I wasn't well, which was true too, but it had more to do with the fact that the insane woman had nor respect for credible studies about how human beings cannot concentrate for longer than an hour and a half on a particular event - that is why most colleges and schools don't take classes continously from 9 t0 5, giving food and water and snacks at regular intervals within the confines of the classroom. There is absolutely no reason why that statistic should grow any different as one progresses in age. But then why would I expect her to know that? These people have no idea what it is to be a teacher - the lengths amma used to go to to make sure her students liked her classes and took back something from them even if they were the kind who didn't listen to lectures used to make me wonder what all the fuss was about. It didn't hurt her ego when they didn't understand or didn't do well, it hurt her that they weren't learning what they'd come to school to learn. Why do teachers have to become monotonous gramophones who talk to the walls and the LCD projector and the whiteboard just because we're a little bit older now?

Anyway, my ceremoniously escaping two more hours of finman without a break left me with my next dilemma - what to do now. My next class is at 4.30 PM. I don't have the energy to travel in a car for two hours and take up an offer to roam Plaza or any other roamable place - Delhi doesn't have any places that I'd like to roam at the moment. I want to roam the hills - Delhi doesn't have any of them. I would've gone to McLeod Ganj if I'd the right company i.e. the group that's going now plus and minus some people. A lot of people, actually. Although I'm not quite sure anymore what right company is.. right often isn't right for me, you know. Right could mean doing what my heart, mind. body tell me to right at every momemt, right could be listening to your conscience, right could be trying to reason with yourself that my conscience is only looking at one side of the coin and hence is a biased spectator. I'm tired of trying to figure this one out - now I'm not even sure what I mean when I tell myself "You should do the right thing." I'm not going to say it until I know.

I need to figure out what to take back from this place. And what to ignore. The latter part I'd started on long back, slowly and hesitantly because I'm wary of that road. It does not lead to a very sunny place. But the first part I haven't a clue... A friend is asking me on chat - "So, found your place in the scheme of things yet?" I don't know. No, I guess. He's caught me at a 'no' time. Which means there are 'yes' times, he says. That's a start. That's one of the fun things about being a pendulum. Temperamentally speaking.

Sweet Thursday is a lovely book, unexpectedly. I usually shy away from books that have a lot of dialogue, especially recreated dialects and styles of talking. Don't have the kind of space in my head needed to hear those lines when they're being said. Once I began liking Doc, it was nice. I like well-crafted, a little on-the-edge but intense characters. It was a bit like Mice and Men, only sweeter. And more founded on human character and emotions. The only other Steinbeck I've read, Grapes of Wrath, left without saying a word to me. This, on the other hand, in spite of being lazily realistic is still a fairy tale. I like fairy tales.

Today's fortune (orkut.com):Simplicity of character is the natural result of profound thought.

Liars.