tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-33889579150333078012024-02-14T22:20:21.636+05:30The Sociopathic ButterflyIncoherent ramblings of an undiagnosed lunatic.Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-79248494183390129752023-04-14T01:08:00.003+05:302023-04-14T01:13:05.859+05:30Perspective, the mind's eye<p>I've been thinking about perspective, lately, about how it's all that exists.</p><p>We want to, with all our strength, believe there's right and wrong, good and evil, saint and satan, but in truth, there's only perspective.</p><p>A man guns down a boy when robbing a department store - an abhorring crime, an evil man, the spawn of satan.</p><p>The deceased boy's grieving father guns down the murderous thief in revenge - a superhero, a vengeful angel, the purveyor of justice.</p><p>A sudden news broadcast reveals the thief had lost his job due to budget cuts and he just wanted to steal bread to feed his unwell wife and two year old daughter - we don't know what to feel anymore.</p><p><br /></p><p>When the perspective changes, so does the definition of right and wrong, leading me to believe, there is no right and wrong, there is only perspective.</p><p>And what is perspective, if not our mind's eye?</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI5vQdP9EmApJmfmRAPoxPGzq_AhZp_9ubKvSRYK5x6WxTSSTNbwPQvmRuGITFq9M_s86-wJVweufBdFHrdZ7NcwsUMKzhF9PnWhp8ltFC-LGkHeRI9ziPMsjq90QYltsPqV3fpp7ayFxlMrfPVQJfekGE36I0BwVtaTSy5f33aXFfQaVRpElt6cJ4dA/s1500/close-up-eye-with-gold-paint-dripping-down-it%20(1).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1002" data-original-width="1500" height="355" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI5vQdP9EmApJmfmRAPoxPGzq_AhZp_9ubKvSRYK5x6WxTSSTNbwPQvmRuGITFq9M_s86-wJVweufBdFHrdZ7NcwsUMKzhF9PnWhp8ltFC-LGkHeRI9ziPMsjq90QYltsPqV3fpp7ayFxlMrfPVQJfekGE36I0BwVtaTSy5f33aXFfQaVRpElt6cJ4dA/w531-h355/close-up-eye-with-gold-paint-dripping-down-it%20(1).jpg" width="531" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-31854738999072115772021-11-24T02:19:00.011+05:302023-04-14T01:17:19.595+05:30Talk Me Into Suicide - Chapter 1<p><i>It started a few months ago. The voices in my head. At first they were benign, coaxing, convincing me something's not right, but not necessarily wrong. Then they got louder, bolder, but remained innocuous.</i></p><p><i>And then they got malicious. They got controlling.</i></p><p>We sat facing each other silently for a bit in that small stuffy room, on two dull brown couches that he had no doubt purchased online. The room was a hint of depressing beige. There was a clock on the wall to my left that read 1:06 and a painting of a lake on the wall to the right. The rest of the room was bare, save the dilapidated desk behind his couch, another online purchase.</p><p>He seemed calm, the psychiatrist, but he broke a sweat. I'm good at reading people. They think they can hide fear behind a mask of bravery. They can't. He was nervous. He realized this wasn't going to be a run-of-the-mill psyche case. Then again, he was inexperienced, just freshly off medical school so he wouldn't have worked with many psyche cases. I had picked him for a reason. That very reason.</p><p>'What do the voices say?' He asked.</p><p><i>Tell me the confidentiality clause again.</i></p><p>He cleared his throat. </p><p>'Whatever you tell me is confidential unless I believe you are a harm to yourself or someone else. But there has to be concrete evidence of it. For example, I won't break confidentiality if you report <i>thoughts </i>of suicide, but if I feel strongly, based on the things you tell me, that you will for certain <i>attempt </i>suicide, I can have you hospitalized against your will. The same goes for threat to others. If you give me unequivocal reason to believe you are going to physically harm someone, I can break confidentiality and inform law enforcement officials, but not otherwise.'</p><p>He ended his monologue. I trust what I say in this room will remain confidential. A novice psychiatrist will think twice before breaking confidentiality, an action that could axe his career and send him into early retirement.</p><p><i>Have you ever had someone try and persuade you into murder, doctor?</i></p><p>He stared back, silent. That's fine, I just needed him to listen, intently.</p><p><i>Just walk out at night with a knife, find a homeless bum and stab them. How difficult can it be? Do you think the law would waste a breath on solving that crime? No. You'd get away with it. Take a big rock and smash the head of the drunk passed out on the street. Do you think society would miss that delinquent? You'd be doing society a favour. Let's kill. It's easy. It's liberating. Imagine how freeing it would feel to take a life? Do the most unthinkable act, one that both the mortal and heavenly plane consider unforgivable. When you defy a commandment they both, humankind and the spirits, consider sacred, you break free from the chains that tether you to them. Enforce death. Something only the God's are known to be capable of. Humans create life and the Gods decide when to end it. You could be God.</i></p><p>The room was silent again. I could hear time pass us by. Tick, tock, tick, tock.</p><p><i>That's what the voices say. Every day. Every night. They try to convince me to kill. </i></p><p>He gulped. 'And... And have you? Have you killed someone?' He stammered.</p><p><i>No. Not yet. That's why I'm here, to ask you to help me. To stop me from taking a life.</i></p><p>'You did the right thing,' he spat out quickly, sighing in relief. 'Coming to me, that was wise, that is brave.'</p><p>He was quick in believing me. The alternative would mean having to turn me in, an option he no doubt does not want to exercise. I have chosen the right person.</p><p>'You have come seeking help and now I can help you. This is very, very good. This shows me you feel the need to change, to get better, and I can help you,' he continues. </p><p><i>Oh no, my friend, I haven't come here to get better. Oh no no no, there is no getting better for me. I have come to you so you can silence the voices in my head, that is correct, but not through healing. Quite the contrary, I'm afraid. </i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p><i>I need you to talk me into suicide.</i></p><p><i><br /></i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHjP9kVnngF-IdZ48-6VunVLiXha4yNEF5KhtFRPAZ-RleElr4cAocvQwihmt-zUHeFoEp5_k7vTShJVJOmhu1koOdAVa2LA5_Lejf1PbJMyFrve0MhjOSbQnGz0o2711izKrW5WMAxxXVKbJFKvogdsXOPHHk4TttLmZ7i5zzYDzSfYo4u89QSTqaBg/s2000/scary-woman-graveyard-halloween-costume.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1304" data-original-width="2000" height="437" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHjP9kVnngF-IdZ48-6VunVLiXha4yNEF5KhtFRPAZ-RleElr4cAocvQwihmt-zUHeFoEp5_k7vTShJVJOmhu1koOdAVa2LA5_Lejf1PbJMyFrve0MhjOSbQnGz0o2711izKrW5WMAxxXVKbJFKvogdsXOPHHk4TttLmZ7i5zzYDzSfYo4u89QSTqaBg/w669-h437/scary-woman-graveyard-halloween-costume.jpg" width="669" /></a></div><br /><i><br /></i><p></p>Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-25793818079182332842021-10-23T14:30:00.005+05:302023-04-14T01:14:25.949+05:30Opposite sides of a railway track<p>Some stories are like railway tracks. They run parallel, forever destined to be inches apart but never intertwine, except for a brief moment at a crossing where anything is possible and even destiny can be persuaded to change its course. </p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p>It was 9:15 PM. My dad and I were on our way to the supermarket three blocks away from home to buy a tub of chocolate chip ice cream. Chocolate chip was my favourite.</p><p>The neighbourhood was dark, the street lights were always busted. <i>Crappy municipal officers</i>, my dad always said. The streets were dimly lit by the few apartments that had their lights on, and by the moon. </p><p>The moon was eerily bright that night, I remember thinking.</p><p>The place was deserted and very silent. But we had made this walk many times before.</p><p>Mom had asked us not to go, but I insisted and my dad caved. My dad loved me, and I really wanted chocolate chip ice cream.</p><p>We were passing an alley when the man jumped out of the shadows, right in front of us.</p><p><i>Your wallet and phone</i>, the man said.</p><p>He was holding a knife and he pointed it at my dad.</p><p>I froze. My legs shook. I felt faint. I was five.</p><p>My father, not quite the fighter but not one to back down either, pulled me by my arm so I was safely tucked behind him and said, <i>I don't want any trouble. I'm not carrying much money neither do I have my phone, so just let us go ok?</i></p><p><i>Look man I don't want to kill you, just give me your wallet, </i>the man with the knife said.</p><p>I clutched my dad's leg and peeped from the side. I saw the man's hand tremble. I could tell he was nervous.</p><p>What I couldn't tell, was that he was also desperate.</p><p><i>I'm going to walk away now, and you'll let us go, ok?</i> My dad said. </p><p>I was very scared. <i>Just give him what he wants papa</i>, I yelled.</p><p><i>Listen to the boy! </i>The man with the knife screamed back. </p><p>But my dad had seen the thief's hand tremble. My dad was also a man of principle who worked very hard for every penny that he earned. He wasn't going to give it away that easily.</p><p>He won't attack, my dad decided. He took a step back, and then another, with me at his backside being pushed slowly away from the man with the knife and closer to our home. Closer to mom.</p><p>The man panicked and lunged forward.</p><p><i>Just give me your bloody wallet</i>, he screamed.</p><p>I screamed.</p><p>My dad raised his hand and threw a punch.</p><p>He missed.</p><p>The man with the knife thrust his arm forward wildly. I'm pretty sure his eyes were closed.</p><p>But he didn't miss. He stabbed my dad right in his chest. My dad fell to the ground. I just stood there. I was five. I just stood there and stared. </p><p>I watched the man take my dad's wallet, look at his lifeless face, look at me, and then run.</p><p>He left the knife in my dad's chest.</p><p>I think he was crying. I don't know. Everything was a blur. Everything has been a blur ever since.</p><p>-------------------------------------------------------------------</p><p><i>We haven't had anything to eat in days dada</i>, I said as I ran to my dad who had just walked in.</p><p>It was 8:30 PM, almost dinner time.</p><p>His white shirt was greased and dirty and so were his pants. Both hadn't been washed in days. </p><p>None of us owned shoes.</p><p>He worked at the bottling plant all the way on the other side of the tracks. It was running out of business. Or so my dad had been saying to mumma for months.</p><p><i>I know sweetheart</i>, he said, and walked to my mom.</p><p>It wasn't a long walk, we had just four light yellow walls and a brown floor that made everything - the hall, the bedroom and the kitchen. Nature was our toilet.</p><p><i>I haven't gotten paid yet, I don't know what to do</i>, I heard him tell mom.</p><p>I couldn't take another night without food.</p><p><i>It's been two days. We have to at least feed the kids</i>, my mom said.</p><p>My brother was asleep on the floor. I don't think he would mind another night without food. But I was very hungry.</p><p><i>I'm very hungry dada</i>, I said looking at dada. I knew he loved me and he'd get food. I don't know where he used to get that sweet bread from, but it was tasty and I was really hungry.</p><p><i>Can we please eat tonight?</i> I persisted.</p><p>My parents exchanged a look. They were sad. But I was very hungry. I was also five. I didn't understand poverty yet.</p><p>I ran to my dad and hugged his leg. <i>Maybe we can have some of that sweet bread?</i> I said in my most sweetest voice.</p><p><i>Ok,</i> he said. <i>Ok. I'll do something.</i></p><p>He walked to the corner where mama kept the plates and pulled out the knife we used to slice the tasty bread. </p><p>That was a good sign. He was going to get bread.</p><p>He really loved me.</p><p>We were going to eat some food.</p><p>Finally. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcSOzgsfZAOf5Fieasgy84EhFEyhhjVd5-xQUjr8EsC-ky8qtjHrdXROw6OomO9ad16X-ULzfyHWdwHa3FFPpC3TWfw_oXKsiPxBXXF6E5cwUVxiK8pgp-_wzFSGYmBdCc1qRMXD8H67ujO3fGvBL5fFxRyXrlHRrm0femdFNDti_bFesV0NTyradZw/s1500/picture-railway-with-lights-night.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1500" height="621" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTcSOzgsfZAOf5Fieasgy84EhFEyhhjVd5-xQUjr8EsC-ky8qtjHrdXROw6OomO9ad16X-ULzfyHWdwHa3FFPpC3TWfw_oXKsiPxBXXF6E5cwUVxiK8pgp-_wzFSGYmBdCc1qRMXD8H67ujO3fGvBL5fFxRyXrlHRrm0femdFNDti_bFesV0NTyradZw/w621-h621/picture-railway-with-lights-night.jpg" width="621" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-47763967031178565182021-04-24T01:01:00.007+05:302023-04-14T01:19:30.566+05:30The Girl Who Bleeds MoonlightI admire the ridge on her chin and the veins below her eyelids, illuminated only by strands of moonlight that seep through the window.<div>She lies in front of me, eyes closed as if in deep sleep but I know she's awake, dreaming, listening to the patter of raindrops.</div><div>Her calm face and teasing neck tenderly peer out of a dark dress, and that's all I can see in the fog of night.</div><div>And the moonlight dancing on her skin. </div><div><br /></div><div>She glows, and strangely, the moonlight does not seem to bounce off of her, but rather, flows into her.</div><div>She isn't reflecting moonlight, I observe. She's absorbing it. Strange.</div><div><div>And then it hits me like a flash of lightning in a thunderstorm. It's been in front of me all along. How could I have been so blind?</div><div>The moon isn't lighting up the night revealing the vision in front of me, because the light does not belong to the moon at all.</div><div><br /></div><div>The light belongs to her, and she's claiming it back. </div><div><br /></div><div>It's her brightness that the moon borrows at sundown, and she lends it gracefully.</div></div><div>And every night the moon radiates brilliance and the galaxy turns around to take a second look while she lies drained but never complaining. </div><div>While I've looked up in awe and admired the moon's beauty quite often, tonight I witness something more majestic.</div><div>I witness the light return home to whom it belongs, and a face that glows in a shade of angel.</div><div><br /></div><div>So every time you look up at the moon and revel in its light, know this.</div><div>The light does not belong to the moon at all.</div><div>The moon borrows the light, and the light belongs to her.</div><div>To the girl who bleeds moonlight.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6tvnpg-fH0KLXCdfMdM0fGlSGoYPmuQ4Jj_1rXlZdvayPTAHlxQSUrxEA_pGhoz6pDFg0M1cmXeZJnmhX0PKpUKCFVm1COJRGNjVEPbhcxTLpoKKVg4umxa_kzsKjDo8DjHLldb2CCjI8FD8DPlsgEqORKRtWgdULyarPgJ_awBwrQy5EjOaJ3-_zZQ/s1500/amazing-moong-night-illustration-concept-background-image.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1500" height="433" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6tvnpg-fH0KLXCdfMdM0fGlSGoYPmuQ4Jj_1rXlZdvayPTAHlxQSUrxEA_pGhoz6pDFg0M1cmXeZJnmhX0PKpUKCFVm1COJRGNjVEPbhcxTLpoKKVg4umxa_kzsKjDo8DjHLldb2CCjI8FD8DPlsgEqORKRtWgdULyarPgJ_awBwrQy5EjOaJ3-_zZQ/w650-h433/amazing-moong-night-illustration-concept-background-image.jpg" width="650" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div>Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-30829637781022343012020-06-21T17:12:00.003+05:302020-07-01T23:43:59.154+05:30The Blind Date<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i><br /></i></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i><br /></i></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i>I had a lot of fun on our date tonight, </i>she says. <i>I just hope I didn't tell you all my stories, or the next date is just going to be awkward silence</i>.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">But that exactly, my dear, is what I want. To have nothing more to talk about, because everything has been said, and I know you like the mason knows every corner of the church he built because it's his hands that placed every stone, and like the author knows the book he wrote because it's his mind that thought the words in the first place. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">There's nothing left to explore and there's nothing left to read, that's where I want to be.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">You see, my dear, the silence between strangers and that between old souls is very different.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Because in that silence, in the silence that succeeds complete and exhausting revelation, lies the peaceful acceptance that our stories have, at last, intertwined.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">The chisel that hasn't yet been lifted is anxious, in turmoil, is desperate to be used. The chisel that is placed down after David is carved, while still in the same place, is satisfied and in a peaceful state of inertia.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">And that is the difference between the silence that was and the one that will be. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">I want to, no, I need to know you till there's nothing left to explore and there's nothing left to read, and that's where I want to be. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Because then we create. Because then we write.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">When you have no stories to tell me because I've already lived them with you, that's when our blind date ends, and we become old souls.</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">For now, <i>would you like to grab dinner again tomorrow?</i></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i><br /></i></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i><br /></i></div>
Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-56278562867018478112017-07-13T20:30:00.000+05:302017-07-13T22:44:29.630+05:30Why I Killed Myself<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
I had dreams you know, gargantuan ones that reached the moon and scratched its surface. My eyes had a bright twinkle, the shine that comes from looking far into the future, and I had a silly smile plastered to my face, the grin that comes when your thoughts have no boundaries.<br />
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I stood on top of a hill, both hands on my hips and my hair fluttering in the wind as I gazed ahead. I saw a thick blanket of green leaves that stretched far away until it sank into the ocean, and houses with red roofs, people running on foot kicking up clouds of dust into the air chasing something invisible. And I could see it all because I was on top of the hill, high above everything and everyone. With my hands on my hips and my chest inflated, I told myself I was the master of it all, answerable to no one with only the sky above me, and that too, too far way to reach me.<br />
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And then a little squirrel brushed against my shin and ran down the hill, and I the master of the universe was obliged to capture it, and so chased it with fury. It ran with the conviction of a prey being chased and I followed it with the determination only a hunter can have. It swerved to the left in an attempt to elude me and I cut just in time and kept on its tail.<br />
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After some time, the exact amount I know not for time has that sly demeanour of slipping by unnoticed, I caught on and grabbed the squirrel by its tail. I hung it in front of my face and I snickered at the poor bastard who thought he could outrun me, the king of the hill with the gargantuan dreams that pierced the moon.<br />
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Then I turned around only to notice I had reached the bottom. Standing at the foot of the hill I once was the king of, I looked up and saw a pale, transparent silhouette of the little boy with the dreams that reached the moon. I slowly looked down at the skeleton of a dead squirrel long perished, held by a thick hairy hand of a man with a large portly belly, and I felt a cool breeze caress my balding head. So engrossed I was in the chase of the squirrel that I didn't see the hill whiz by. For a second I stood bewildered and wondered what happened, and then I realized:<br />
<br />
Time has that sly demeanour of slipping by unnoticed.<br />
<br />
And so I went home and sat on my gray couch, with a whiskey in one hand and a cigarette in another. Once again I thought, like I did every evening and every night before I slept and every morning after I woke up, of the dreams that blew out my mind and soared up to the moon digging deep craters that were visible from the Earth.<br />
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A knock on my door wiped across my thoughts, and I smiled knowing who it was. As he sat on the lonely gray couch I reflected on his life instead. He had huge dreams as a kid too, not bigger than mine but big nonetheless. But he hadn't been tricked by the squirrel, he followed the rabbit instead, down a densely vegetated path with thorns that scratched him and hurricanes that pushed him to the ground, snakes that lashed out at him and quick sand that swallowed his boots, but he braved on and conquered every dream he had as a kid.<br />
<br />
And yet here was on the same gray couch with the same white cigarette wallowing in misery. It struck me right then, it didn't matter whether you followed the squirrel or the rabbit, this gray couch is where we were destined to sit on, equally miserable.<br />
<br />
That night as I lay awake, listening to the low hum of a rusted ceiling fan, I had a different thought. I didn't think of the gargantuan dreams that scratched the moon, instead I thought about how we weren't worthy or capable of happiness, and I wished I was a tiger. A simple tiger that could run around free and hunt and sleep and sip cold water from the river while brushing against a deer and hunt and nap again.<br />
<br />
So the next day I went to the zoo to admire the tiger, but what I saw was a tamed, chained cat that barely had a purr in its throat. No majesty there. But the tiger in my thought last night was an untamed jungle beast, not this captured feline.<br />
<br />
And so the next day I went for a safari, deep into the jungle until I saw a free, savage wild tiger. It looked helplessly at a herd of bison, almost pleading with its eyes to give one up for dinner. Then he tried to chase them, from left to the right from the leader to the newborn, all in vain. And then he left, dejected and hungry.<br />
<br />
As I lay in bed that night, I had a new thought. If the tiger cannot find peaceful existence, then what can? Then it dawned on me, there is no peace in living, not for the accomplished man, the hopeless man or the tiger.<br />
<br />
Holding on to a homemade noose, I thought my final thought, of the day I was on top of the hill, with the world beneath my feet, and only the sky above me but that too, too far away to reach me. I was the king of the universe once.<br />
<br />
And then I chased a squirrel.<br />
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-31206940450873170182017-04-21T14:24:00.007+05:302021-10-22T02:45:05.811+05:30You Think You Know Love?Love hurts they say. But it doesn't. It is not love that hurts you, but the absence of it, when it is over or had never begun.<div><br />
Love constricts they say. But it doesn't. Jealousy constricts, anger binds, distrust doubts, and don't confuse them for love.<br />
<br />
To carve out your chest and give your heart to someone is noble, but isn't love, because love doesn't demand. But then again, if you cannot sacrifice, it probably isn't love either.<br />
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If love is mere chemicals in the brain, why do we feel it deep within our gut when loneliness digs a hole sucking inwards making it hard to breathe, high up in our throat as we choke back words and on both our cheeks as misty drops of tears?<br />
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Love is not blind, but on the contrary, sees clearly. Love will not ask you to jump from a cliff, alter your beliefs, mend your personality or prove yourself, because love does not test, and if you are being tested, then you are blind, because it is not love.<br />
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If it brings pain, destruction or tragedy, it isn't love, if it suffocates you, it is not love.<br />
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But then again, what do I know?</div>
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</script>Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-27192411184391102382017-03-05T09:56:00.001+05:302021-10-23T17:45:33.945+05:30The Biology Of Music<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><i><b><span style="font-size: large;">B</span></b>rilliant! </i>she exclaims as I strum my guitar producing a melody I practiced rigorously only to extract that very response. I smile as she proceeds to compliment me in enchanted awe, <i>you have a real gift, did you compose that piece yourself? </i><br />
<i><br /></i>
I smile, wink, and move on to the next phase of my seduction: pretend this talent is congenital, as if my hands move with unmediated ease. <i>It's so enchanting you'd think there's an orchestra serenading you, and yet it looks so simple, </i>she admires.<br />
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Wait, what? Did she just summarize years of unrelenting practice, hours of assiduous study, endless sessions of failure and self motivation as.... 'SIMPLE'?!!<br />
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I think of giving her a tour of the insides of my guitar by running her head through the wood but that would mean hurting Isabella, my dear guitar. She does not comprehend what goes behind a composition. It's not a recipe as facile as <i>take a chord and smother it on to a rhythm!</i> Music has a story to tell, one with a prelude, a plot twist and a finale. It has a dance to perform, one with tugs and spins and dips and bows! If you dissect a tune you'll see how ingredients of complex emotion provoking notes come together in a seamless, flowing melody!<br />
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And she says it's simple!<br />
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You see I first pluck a C major arpeggio, one delicate string at a time to stimulate your senses, kindle interest and jolt you into my performance. Gently I progress to a soft rhythm with an F major to evoke euphoria that warms your chest, arouse pleasure that streaks your cheeks red, pique curiosity and bring you to the edge of your seat, and just when I see in your eyes the glimmer of hope, the daydream that nothing can go wrong in a world made of lilies and marshmallows I strike an A minor with thunderous fury bringing everything crashing to the ground, piercing your soul to let the sadness gush out and refreshing the torment that wet your pillow for nights on end. You drown in the pain and bask in the sorrow letting misery engulf you and just when you're about to give up I strum the G major that reaches out into the depths of your torment like a caped superhero and pulls you back into the heavens, flooding back the radiance and the ecstasy to restore your hope in a happily ever after.<br />
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And she says it's simple!<br />
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Does she realize that the composition is only step one? The guitar is a mere vessel, some fine wood stuck together and polished to a magnificent shine with six steel stings of measured thickness wound in calculated tension. With every strum all Isabella does is disturb the air around her into sound waves of varying pitch and volume. That's just the beginning.<br />
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The waves rush like a gentle tsunami and flood the Pinna, the ear. The ear, designed with motherly affection and placed at perfect distance from the chin with exact symmetry from the nose, is a visual masterpiece that adds charm to your miserable face! Mind you, the ear is not only about aesthetics, for every curve has a purpose and every ridge an intent. You see the outer ear is curved and bent and perfectly folded to accept sound waves and pass them on, unadulterated, to let you locate exactly where the sound is coming from and at what distance it originated.<br />
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And she says it's simple!<br />
<br />
The a cappella of chords travel across the ear canal like a train through a tunnel and enter the middle ear to strike the tympanic membrane, the eardrum, with unforgiving force. The membrane endures this relentless attack and vibrates along, joining in the merriment, becoming one with the disturbance. My medley is then dutifully relayed to the Ossicles, three of the smallest bones in the human anatomy placed in perfect mechanical unison, working with such flawless ingenuity that no engineer could ever design. Working synchronously, the Malleus fondly called the Hammer, the Incus lovingly called the Anvil, and the Stapes affectionately called the Stirrup respond to the ear drum's vibrations and swivel like pistons with fluidic flexibility. But moving around is not all these bad boys do, no sir. The ratio of the ear drums surface area to that of the Stapes is designed with calculated precision to give the initial vibration a boost, amplifying the entire signal by over 17 decibel as a contingency to the loss it is going to incur on reaching the Cochlea's fluid medium.<br />
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And she says it's simple!<br />
<br />
The three musiketeers transfer the amplified waves to the human bodies very own sound engineer for one final sound check. The most beautiful auditory equipment known to man, the Cochlea, a coiled tube that wraps around the auditory nerve like a Python around its prey, but more gentler, with a design more intrinsic than the ceiling of the Sistine chapel. My concoction of musical notes flow into the Basilar Membrane in the Cochlea which is filled with fibres and sensory cells that sit patiently in neat rows, like keys of a piano waiting to be struck. These fibres and cells, very much like piano keys, are tonotopic in nature, meaning they are monogamous in their relationship, each married and reacting to only one particular frequency and no other. As the vibrations pass over these rows of fibres, waves of a particular frequency excite the fibre it is married to and this fibre in turn excites the corresponding sensory cell whose tiny hair structures shear, catalyzing a chemical reaction which generates electrical impulses that the auditory nerve picks up and sends to the auditory cortex in the brain telling the brain <i>HEY! I picked up a frequency of </i><i>261.63 Hz </i><i>so give this silly girl the perception of a C chord.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
And she says it's simple!<br />
<br />
I lament this melancholy in my mind of course, I still have the intention to impress. I realize as I come back to reality, that as my mind wandered around the surgery of music my hands were still strumming and the melody still continued without a single note being missed.<br />
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I guess it's not all that hard after all.
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<span style="text-decoration-line: underline;">Read next: </span><a href="http://www.thesociopathicbutterfly.com/2017/04/you-think-you-know-love.html">You Think You Know Love?</a><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">Pic credits: Allele, composed by Michael Zev Gordon.</span></div>
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-57218111789660560532017-03-02T14:10:00.005+05:302021-03-26T02:03:49.875+05:30Why Do I Write Stories?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span face="Verdana, sans-serif" style="font-size: large;"><b>W</b></span>hy do I write stories you ask? Spend one precious hour after another, sculpting my protagonist, refining my diction and sharpening my plot? I'll answer that, but first, let me tell you a story.<br />
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A story solving a query you never knew you had.<br />
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<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<i>What happens when I listen to a song?</i></h4>
Well it depends on the song really. A good ol' 90's Rock song comes on and I'm transported immediately to another realm, as if pushed into a time warping machine that altered my reality. I stand mighty high on the edge of a wide podium, one foot firmly on the ground and the other resting grudgingly on a speaker, facing a mob of a million. These are my people, flocked under the open summer sky, baking under a merciless sun, soaked in each others sweat as shoulders brush, suffocating in a thronging mosh pit. Valiantly they endure to profess their allegiance to me. Their deafening roars rise up and suspend mid air like a sound cloud. But it's not about them. The bright, white spot light illuminates my figure emphasizing who is important, highlighting every curve and fibre of my being. I straddle my shiny cherry red guitar and coo into a mike that resonates my tone across the land. Shirtless, I sway my body that is chiseled like a god. I belt a chorus and the crowd responds with heavy head thrashing and loud screams, I croon a verse and they cry in hushed sobs. Mesmerized by their idol they are hypnotized into my control. They reach out in hopes of caressing just a loose thread somewhere on my being. But I am not on a plane as the ordinary. In my own little imaginary bubble, I am the rockstar I hoped I would be.<br />
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<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<i>What happens when I listen to a song?</i></h4>
Well it depends on the song really. Put on some soul cleansing Jazz and I teleport to another dimension, like a mutated gene suddenly gave me that ability. I am a heart surgeon, the most capable one at that. In my green gown I stand in a brightly lit operating theater surrounded by two fellow surgeons and three nurses, adorned in the same attire, admiring their mentor through protective goggles. The light blue walls do little to soothe our nerves as we peep into an open chest cavity, the ribs held aside by a retractor soaked red. We stare down at a weak maroon heart with gray meshed veins, whose beat is slowly fading. I have a decision to make, should I salvage the damaged aortic valve or replace it with a modeled synthetic? A little child's life rests on a knife's edge, and only I have the ability to save him. With swift resilience and a firm resolve I bellow, <i>there's no time to fabricate a spare, we'll just have to fix it!</i> With that command, the operation theater and everyone in it conspire to aid me in whatever I demand and follow me into any life threatening cave. I dive in with my scalpel at the ready. Many hours later I emerge, victorious of course, to gift a family their only child back. In my own little imaginary bubble, I am the genius I hoped I would be.<br />
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<h4 style="text-align: left;">
<i>What happens when I listen to a song?</i></h4>
Well it depends on the song really. Play some Mozart and I whirl into space and emerge in another universe, as if a warp hole presented me the opportunity to travel through the multiverse. I am a master painter, one that Michelangelo would envy. There's no curve so twisted I cannot replicate, no colour so complex I cannot produce, no canvas so ugly I cannot beautify. On a mountain I sit, perched atop a chair, whose feet have sunk into the snow. The valley below is hidden by a thick fog that engulfs the Earth like a blanket, allowing only the tall, brave mountains to pierce through and reach the sky. The sun hangs dimly in the sky illuminating hundred such gray and white mountain tops, creating a vision any mortal would kill to witness. But my interest lies elsewhere. A white canvas rests on an easel, and it's the only thing that dares come between me and my muse. Ah my muse, the untameable one, the only object I ever want to sketch and the only one I failed to master. She sits on a jagged rock staring at nothing in particular, her expression calm and her composure relaxed. Adorned in a red gown, the perfect contrast to the white snow, her beauty thaws the mountain daring it to consume her. As my brush caresses the canvas, gently giving it colour and life, one stroke at a time, I wonder if this maiden whose love I yearn for will ever paint my colourless soul. In my own little imaginary bubble, I am the artist I hoped I would be.<br />
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<i>What happens when I listen to a song?</i></h4>
Well it depends on the song really. I hear a 12 bar Blues progression and with the blink of an eye I apparate, and reappear on a beach as if I were a magician. The sun drifts lower into the sea, bowing a final goodbye, basking the Earth in a warm orange glow. The hot golden sand escapes between my toes as my feet sink into the velvet cushion, and the cool sea mist hugs me like an old lover. I watch my little daughter, a piece of my soul, the reason for my existence, run towards the waves as her pink sundress flutters in the breeze. <i>Not too close honey, </i>I gently warn. I'm a simple man who has led a simple life, a man who has achieved nothing phenomenal but a man with no regrets nonetheless. On my little girls face I see a smile wider than the horizon, her eyes glisten brighter than the setting sun, and my heart sighs in content. I run to her and lift her high and she sits on my shoulders, not caring to hold on to my face. She knows she won't ever fall of her very own throne. Into the sea we venture, one careful step at a time, her laughter echoing through the universe with every splash. I am a simple man who has led a simple life, but when she giggles in awe and screams <i>daddy</i>, she makes it all exceptionally remarkable. In my own little imaginary bubble, I am the father I hoped I would be.<br />
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And now I come back to reality, back to you, to answer this question you asked. Why is it that I write stories?<br />
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Why, it's quite simple really. I write so you can see as clearly as I do, <i>what happens when I listen to a song.</i><br />
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-42400921174869402922016-12-12T16:51:00.002+05:302021-10-23T17:44:06.429+05:30The Paradox of Choice (Buridan's Donkey) and The Free Will<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Buridan's paradox is one that is most fascinating. It is a spin off on an argument made in Aristotle's <i>On The Heavens, </i>ridiculing a sophist's idea on worldly forces. Although not technically a paradox, for it does not contain two contradicting ideas, it is given the label of one considering how befuddling the end result is. And it sure does tickle the brain. It goes as follows:<br />
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A hungry donkey placed in between two stacks of hay equal in quantity and equidistant from it, due to it's inability to make a rational decision on which one to pick, will die of starvation.<br />
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A very, very shrewd paradox. The donkey is extremely hungry, it is presented with not one, but two stacks of delicious hay. It is this possibility of excess that paralyzes the donkey. It wants to make the most advantageous decision but both seem equally lucrative! The end result? A hungry donkey with endless fodder dies of starvation.<br />
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Now this all seems like philosophical hoopla with no obvious real world implication right? Wrong. A version of the paradox actually manifests itself in electrical engineering.<br />
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The input to a digital logic gate that is supplied by a continuous voltage must be converted to either a 1 or a 0. This input is then sampled and processed by the gate.<br />
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Now the input to the gate is in a state of constant flux, which means it is continuously changing. It sometimes so happens that the input is at an intermediary state, in the process of changing between 1 and 0 when the gate samples it.<br />
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The input is now like the donkey, placed at equal distances from a 1 and 0. The gate is unable to decide and freezes in this metastable state, waiting for an undermined length of time for some noise or distortion to tip the scales in the favour of a 1 or a 0 and then processes the input.<br />
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Have you ever wondered how an application working perfectly fine konks and resumes working seamlessly on restarting? The answer is often simply a misplaced binary digit.<br />
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Finally, putting philosophy and technology aside, how does this affect us? We are not governed by rigid choice making logic gates or intelligence impaired like the donkey right? It should be simple for us to make a decision don't you think? Or is it.<br />
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<i>Kneel before me. I said… KNEEL! Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It’s the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life’s joy in a mad scramble for power. For identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.</i><br />
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Yes you guessed right, it's the voice of demigod Loki. Now ask yourself, is he right?<br />
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Why has religion managed to prosper unabated? How has politics flourished without obstruction? Why do we obey laws that don't agree with our logic?<br />
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The answer in my opinion is as clear as a glass of undiluted water: We want our choices to be made for us.<br />
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When the choice is left to us, we feel helpless like the donkey. Everything suddenly seems lucrative and with the anxiety of missing out and the fear of wrongly choosing, we end up starving. And so, overtime, we found a way out that we evolved into believing is the way of nature: elect someone to make the choices for us.<br />
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How many times has this happened: A person stands up and preaches a theory we don't agree with. We rebel against it for a day, unwillingly follow it for a day, and finally conform to it. It has happened with religion it has happened with governments and it will keep happening in every situation where decisions are involved.<br />
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We will always hand the baton to someone else. We are afraid of becoming Buridan's donkey.<br />
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Now honestly this is not always bad. If everyone was to exercise their own will unchallenged, the world would be a scary place. Murderers would kill and proudly claim it is their right of choice. Of course in order to maintain uniformity and peace there needs to be rules enforced, even if it does not conform with some people.<br />
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But the underlying issue is, in the process of having all our life's choices predetermined we have lost something that is our birth right. Our free will.<br />
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We are born, we study, we work, we retire, we die. We move when the light is green and stop when it's red. We marry before it's too late and give up when it's still early. Our course is shaped not by our own choices but by those of our parents, the society, the government and religious beliefs.<br />
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The message I want to leave you with is this. Know that you will always have choices. Some as simple as jam or butter, some as complex as the red wire or green. But you will always have choices. Do not for the fear of failing let someone else make them for you. Do not for the fear of failing abstain from choosing at all.<br />
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Do not starve even in the presence of fodder.<br />
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-4250610219744334892016-12-01T18:32:00.000+05:302017-01-08T23:49:45.809+05:30The Chaos Theory (The Butterfly Effect) and Karma<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i>Chaos Theory is the branch of mathematics that deals with complex systems whose behaviour is highly sensitive to slight changes in conditions, so that small alterations can give rise to strikingly great consequences.</i><br />
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Do not panic. The definition is quite simple, it just says small changes in the initial conditions of a system can cause a gargantuan change in the result.<br />
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OK I've confused you more. Let's try this one more time. 1x5=5, this is our simple mathematical system. Now let's make a small change in the initial conditions. We increase one of the numerals by 1. So, 2x5=10. An increase by 1 in the initial condition gave us an increase by 5 in the result! This my friends is the most astute explanation of the chaos theory.<br />
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The most popular example for the chaos theory, one we have all definitely heard of is the Butterfly Effect. There are many variations of it, a simple one goes as follows:<br />
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The details of a hurricane, like its speed, location or path, can be influenced by a single flap of a tiny distant butterfly, days earlier.<br />
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<i>Karma is a concept founded in Hinduism which explains causality through a system where beneficial effects are derived from past beneficial actions and harmful effects from past harmful actions, creating a system of actions and reactions throughout a soul's (Atma's) reincarnated lives forming a cycle of rebirth.</i><br />
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In simple words, your fate or future is determined by the actions of your past and present. It goes on to say a man is made on this Earth as the deeds of his past. One of the first mentions of Karma is in the Hindu scripture the Rigveda.<br />
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How fascinating, two theories, one founded with scientific backing and the other by spiritual interpretation have almost the same basis and concept. This just goes to show how science and spirituality(not religion, there's a difference) is very much on parallel spectrums.<br />
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How do either affect you? It's quite simple really. Remember, everything you are right now, your job, your status in society, your financial condition every relationship you have, every disaster to befall you and every triumphant victory, is not the will of God or a design of the supreme being, but a manifestation of YOUR OWN ACTIONS.<br />
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Take some responsibility, right now! Stop blaming the supreme being or the universe for your present state. You are here only because of your actions.<br />
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OK I've blamed you for your present, now let's talk about your future. Your future is quite controllable you know, it's a blank canvas and you hold the paintbrush. Take a moment and reflect on what you want for yourself, and then take actions, small at first, to take your life in that direction.<br />
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Karma, or the Chaos Theory is only telling you this: The end result is not a consequence of chance. It's an outcome of your actions and the beauty is, your actions are managed by YOU! So what are you waiting for? Go ahead, begin designing your destiny!<br />
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You are the architect of your own fate.<br />
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-41108480583346738572016-10-29T10:05:00.005+05:302021-10-23T17:53:42.894+05:30The Wooden Horse<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I'm
one of many wooden horses, made for children to play, on my soft saddle
they'll sit and to and fro I will sway. We were made in a little
warehouse, by a man bent with age, with his withered hands and antique
tools he carved us with careful gauge.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
But I was born different from all the rest and every day I'd ask god why, when no
one was looking and the master was asleep I'd often stay up and cry. You see I am
disabled, only a single stirrup I possess, the master ran out of leather he said
and left me with this distress. He'd often stroke my mane and console, "you're
not handicapped but a special foal". "Why then no one wants to take me home, no
kid ever looks my way, I want to be part of a family too", grimly I would say.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
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</span><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">And so I sat in a corner alone, still and mild, watching families come in and
their children run around wild. They'd sit on many horses until their favourite they
had picked, not a glance in my direction, not one single kid. When the sun would set and master got ready to leave, he would stroke my mane and say, "you
just have to believe".</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">Days came and went each no different from the last, except that my friends would leave
one after another, the master's flock depleting fast. To their new home they would go, a new family to call their own, I'd dread the day I'd be the only one left,
in this corner forlorn. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">Some kids can be mean, they point and they stare, look at that useless horse they'd say, who'd want that damaged mare. Why don't you throw that one out, some parents would confer, "no!" master said, he would not be deterred. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">I will forever remember the day she came, carried in her father's arms, master
greeted them at the door, he was old but didn't lack charm. I thought she was a
snob, grown up but still being cradled, how wrong I was to judge her so quickly without a clue I had had her labelled. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">For when her dad set her down, I saw she was missing a leg, she limped around
with her gray crutches and an expression blank and dead. I saw the pain in her
eyes, as she slowly hopped across the store, her pink frock bouncing around
while the crutches clinked the floor.</span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: 13.5pt;">Suddenly she stumbled and fell with a thump, her father ran to her side and helped her stand up. She dusted her pink dress and continued her step while her father looked on as his heart silently wept. His dear daughter she was and god had been so unkind, living without a leg, he prayed a normal life she would find.</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">I kept a curious eye on her as she slowly looked around, until her eyes fell on
me and she contorted a frown. She made her way to where I stood and
continued to stare,<span class="apple-converted-space"> "</span><i>what
happened to this horse papa, he's missing something there"</i>. </span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
My master and her papa walked to where we stood, and master looked down with a
smile considering what answer would be good.<span class="apple-converted-space"> "</span><i>He's a kind and noble horse, also the best of my herd, but alas he was born without a
stirrup, a curse he did not deserve"</i>.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
The little girl stroked my mane and noticed I was just like her, she was
missing a right leg for no fault of her own and I had only a left stirrup sewn. She looked at her dad
with expectant eyes and her thoughts he was able to read, he carried her up and
placed her on my back and went on to kiss her cheek. </span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br />
She placed her only leg in my only stirrup and slowly I rocked to her delight,
she clapped and she cheered and then kissed my head and with both her little
arms she hugged me tight. We continued to rock, two handicapped kids each
comforted by the other, right then we knew we would never separate and all our love
to the other we would shower.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">A single tear fell down her father's cheek as he saw his baby smile, "to this horse I'm indebted" he said, "he has brought joy to my child". "Look master look, she likes me" I said, Yes my dear horse, she considers you her friend.</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">And so that day a new family I found, a new house I would call my home, as I
left I saw my masters eyes tear and in pain my heart was torn. "Don't worry" he
said, this little girl needs you more, I will be fine and I won't grieve, but
always remember you're not handicapped but special, you just have to
believe.</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-36148279736378050732016-09-27T19:57:00.002+05:302017-03-04T18:49:01.462+05:30The Apple and The Leaf<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's not everyday that you find love, so you can imagine just how ecstatic the green leaf was when the apple asked her out. He was shiny, red and a little plump agreed but he was also kind and caring and always funny indeed. He made all the leaves and apples on the tree giggle and when the birds came to cool down after a tiring flight they always asked him for a jingle.<br />
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And so it began, the leaf's first romance and as far as she was concerned, it would be her last dance. They talked for hours, from sun up to down, in bliss, and when the night came the wind was kind enough to push them close enough to steal a good night kiss. All through spring they laughed and danced and played and kissed, not a worry in the world, not a moment they missed.<br />
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Then one fine day with a hot burning fire, came someone who loudly proclaimed the leaf was his desire. He called himself the sun and brought with him the summer, he surely meant business, if you ignored him you'd suffer. When his sweet words wouldn't work he tried brute force, burning with rage he tried to burn the apple of course. But the love the two shared wouldn't falter or shake, and the sun vowed upon the stars, this love he would break. If she cannot be mine you cannot have her either, I'm going to speak to my uncle the all powerful weather!<br />
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And then he was gone and the leaf calmly sighed, I'd never leave you my apple, no matter how hard he tried. And so the story went on and all of the tree conspired, to have a pretty wedding, once the flowers were hired.<br />
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But then something happened, something direly sinister, the wind blew harder and the day grew shorter. The night came early and when it felt like a dream, a voice bellowed from the heaven with a devilish scream. My nephew you refused, you foolish leaf, now the autumn is upon you, prepare for grief.<br />
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The leaves and the fruits and the flowers couldn't comprehend, but the tree trunk remembered the seasons that came and went. He kept it to himself and wiped a lonely tear, they'd know soon enough, he'd save them the fear.<br />
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As the days passed the leaf got feeble and ill, and no matter what the apple said it didn't lift up her will. She grew brown and pale and began to wither, and the apple cried every night in a prayer to save her. Remember my love, I have always loved you she said, don't mourn for too long once I'm fallen and dead. My dear red apple, my darling you'll always be, our love will be spoken of all over this tree.<br />
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And one day when he woke and looked to his right, he noticed with pain and horror and fright. His beloved sweetheart was no where to be seen, to think love lasts forever, how naive had he been. She fell in her sleep, the neighbours said, she was carried by the wind along with the other dead. Let's hope the stories of the afterlife are true, he lamented, so I see her again when my life is through.<br />
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She was stroking his cheek still in love so deep, so handsome he was even in his sleep. And suddenly her grip on the branch gave way, slowly in the wind she began to stray. She yelled and reached out but no help came, you're alone in death stop trying my dear dame.<br />
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And so she floated, alone and distraught, losing her love for which so hard she had fought. Am I dead, she asked and the wind looked at her tender, yes my dear in the afterlife you have now entered. And so she gave in and let the wind guide her way, there was no reason to worry, whether night or day. As she lay dreaming she felt a mild mist, she looked around and saw a beautiful brook twist. On it's wet flowing waters she did land, with a love so tender the brook held her hand.<br />
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With a new family her afterlife she began, the water the fish, the shells and the sand. They were kind to her and understood her pain, for they had all once suffered, both loss and gain. So as she floated, she felt light and free, for a fleeting second she let herself feel glee. And then she came still and rested on a rock, with three little stones nearby, a family of sorts. They let her spend the night, with talk and laughter, mamma rock put her to bed like she was a daughter.<br />
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Early next morning she went on her way, back to straying around through a lonely day. Look daddy look, such a pretty leaf, she heard a voice coo, with a swosh she was picked up, by the hands of a little girl, her eyes so true. She was dried and placed between pages of a book, before it was shut one quick glance around she took.<br />
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When she saw light again in a pink room she was, it was story time for the girl, the wizard of oz. And in the hands of the girl was a bedtime snack, a dull red apple, oh lustre it did lack. But something about this sad apple was vaguely familiar, Oh my god could it be true, her love was here? And then he looked at her and his eyes got so bright, in that instant she knew, yes it was her knight.<br />
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The little girl chomped and she watched her lover die, but they both smiled, finally together they would lie. When the apple was eaten, out the seeds went, at the same time the dear wind blew and out the window she was sent.<br />
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On the soft moist ground delicately she landed, and next to her were the seeds, a final blessing she was handed. And so she smiled and cried and laughed, together a new tree they would now carve. Slowly she decayed and became nutrition, which the seeds absorbed and came to fruition.<br />
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And so they were finally one, united in death, through years the tree grew, a sign of their breath. Today the tree stands tall, a testament of love, because when it is true, it will come together somehow.<br />
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-34219527462176960872016-08-16T21:18:00.001+05:302017-01-09T00:36:36.257+05:30The God Particle (Higgs Boson) and the Cause Of All Problems<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Prerequisites:<br />
Understanding of thought experiments explained in: <a href="http://www.thesociopathicbutterfly.com/2016/08/schrodingers-cat-and-leap-of-faith.html"><span style="color: blue;">Schrodingers Cat and The Leap of Faith</span></a><br />
Understanding of forces, fields and quantum particles explained in: <a href="http://www.thesociopathicbutterfly.com/2016/08/the-theory-of-everything-string-theory.html"><span style="color: blue;">The Theory of Everything (String Theory) and Collective Consciousness</span></a><br />
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The god particle, or technically called the Higgs Boson, is an elementary particle whose existence was suspected in the year 1960. Physicists believe they have finally discovered it, after 40 years of hard work as a result of the recent Large Hadron Collider experiment in CERN, Geneva.<br />
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When physicists are unable to explain certain phenomena, they do what they do best: spin a story to explain the unknown. I am largely discrediting their intelligence by saying they spin stories, what they actually do is postulate coherent theories based on concrete mathematics. They then proceed to prove the theory. The Higgs Boson was also a result of a theory that was hypothesized to explain a strange phenomenon. This time to do with the 'mass' of quantum particles, particularly the <i>Gauge Bosons</i>.<br />
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Physicists explain fields and forces between particles as a result of the exchange of gauge bosons, we learnt that in <a href="http://www.thesociopathicbutterfly.com/2016/08/the-theory-of-everything-string-theory.html"><span style="color: blue;">The Theory of Everything (String Theory) and Collective Consciousness</span></a>. Now all quantum particles belong and behave as per the <i>Standard Model, </i>which is a framework based on <i>gauge invariance and symmetries</i>(Not part of the scope for this article). All you need to know about the gauge invariance and symmetry is that it is a framework that is believed to explain almost everything in the known universe(except gravity). Now for every known field and force, there must exist a <i>Gauge Invariant Theory, </i>in order to fit within the standard model framework. By around 1960, even after constant attempts, physicists were unable to create a gauge invariant theory for two of the four fundamental forces, which consistently failed at one crucial point: although gauge invariance seemed extremely important, it seemed to make any theory of <b>electromagnetism</b> and the <b>weak force</b> go haywire, by demanding that either many particles with mass were massless or that non-existent forces and massless particles had to exist.<br />
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In simple words, for the electromagnetic and the weak force to fit within the equations of the standard model, there had to exist massless particles.<br />
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Scientists had no idea how to get past this point. The idea of massless particles seemed absurd, yet it was turning out to be more of a necessity than a random occurrence.<br />
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After a few years of scratching their heads, physicists came up with a theory. They hypothesized the existence of a field that permeated throughout the universe. They said that in essence, gauge bosons are massless, but as they travel through this mysterious field, they interact with it and this interaction causes it to assume mass. This was perfect. The massless particles satisfied the gauge invariance theory and the field interaction answered why particles had mass when measured, even though they should be massless. This field is what we now call the <i>Higgs Field.</i><br />
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The theory was written, the mathematics was scribbled, Nobel Prizes for physics were handed out. The next job physicists had was to prove the existence of this field. In my previous article I explained how fields exist, as a result of corresponding gauge bosons. In reality the field itself cannot be measured, experimented on or created. Physicists understand the properties of fields by understanding the properties of their corresponding gauge bosons.<br />
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The answer was simple: To prove the existence of the Higgs Field they only had to find the corresponding particle: the <i>Higgs Boson. </i><br />
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In July 2012, two protons running near the speed of light, within the large hadron collider crashed head on to give a shower of new particles. Almost all of them disintegrated immediately, but physicists were able to capture data and they seemed to have caught one particle that closely satisfied all properties of the theoretical Higgs Boson. Over time they confirmed that particle was in fact, the Higgs Boson.<br />
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To sum up, the higgs boson is a field particle that causes the existence of the higgs field. The purpose of the higgs field? to explain why gauge bosons have mass. Gauge bosons, according to recent theory, are massless, but as a result of their interaction with the higgs field, acquire mass.<br />
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Why is this discovery important? Because it explains why particles have mass, it allows all the forces to fit within the standard model(except gravity), thus unifying them and gives credibility to the standard model. These are huge implications in the physics community.<br />
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I have been following the 'God Particle' discovery and the physics behind it for a long time now, but its philosophical implications came to me only recently. Unlike previous articles, I have no spiritual explanation, but more of a personal one.<br />
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I believe the particles symbolize all the problems you have in your life right now. Just like our gauge bosons, they are massless. Your mind and your thoughts are the higgs field. Just as how the bosons acquire mass on interacting with the higgs field, your worries gain weight and prominence in your life as they interact with your mind.<br />
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In essence, you decide how deep of a hole you dig yourself into. You can, very easily, just climb out of it and live a happy life, but if you do or no is up to you. You can allow your boring job to frustrate you throughout the day, and like it is for most of us, give us a headache once we're back home too. You can allow your break up to give you gloomy days and painful nights. You can allow your lack of a life purpose to depress you.<br />
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Or, you can just let it go. It's simple really, just let it slip from your mind. Don't worry if you get fired, don't think about the girl who left you, believe your purpose will come to you. Once you stop thinking about the worry, it loses its mass and before you know it, poof it's gone.<br />
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-88971322309771140932016-08-07T18:35:00.000+05:302017-01-09T00:42:01.009+05:30The Theory of Everything (String Theory) and Collective Consciousness<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<i><b>May the force be with you</b>.</i></h3>
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It all begins with the understanding of force. We all know what force is. We experience it everyday. The Earth holding us down, magnets on our fridge, electricity, the blowing wind, all experience or exert force. All these forces in nature can be grouped into four basic forces, known as the fundamental forces. In order of decreasing strength, they are:</div>
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1. <b>Strong Nuclear Force</b>: This force binds the particles forming the nuclei, protons and neutrons, together. This is the strongest force in nature but also very short ranged, equal to the diameter of the nucleus.</div>
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2. <b>Electromagnetic Force</b>: The force that exists between all particles that have an electric charge. For example, the electron that is negatively charged and the proton that is positively charged have a force of attraction that exists between them due to the opposite charges. This is the electromagnetic force. The force of repulsion between like charged particles is also the electromagnetic force. This has incredible range, in principle infinite.</div>
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3. <b>Weak Nuclear Force</b>: This force is responsible for nuclear decay, also called radiation. It changes one flavour of quarks(I'll get to it) to another. The weak force is crucial to the structure of the universe. The sun wouldn't burn without this force, and we all know how important the sun is. </div>
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4. <b>Gravitational Force</b>: This is the force exerted by bodies with mass. The force that holds us firmly to the surface of the Earth. This force compared to the rest is extremely weak and ranges on to infinity. You are exerting a force of gravity on your computer right now, since both have mass, but the force is so weak it is negligible. This force is the protagonist in our story.</div>
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Now physicists are a curious lot, and they obviously didn't stop at the discovery and understanding of these forces. They wanted to know <i>what caused these forces? How did they work? How can we sense them? Can they be manipulated? </i>These questions lead to the discovery of all the fundamental particles and gave rise to all the known particles we have on our quantum chart today. </div>
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The answer, to how do forces exist and interact, turned out to be quite simple. Just as information is exchanged between two people by exchange of messages, force between particles exists because of an exchange of 'force carriers', known as <i>Field Particles</i> or <i>Gauge Bosons. </i>When two particles exchange a gauge boson, a force is created between them. More the number of field particles transferred, stronger the force.</div>
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The force carriers were hypothesized in the 1800s. In fact, it was Einstein who spoke of the 'light carrier' which was later discovered and named the Photon. Physicists back then knew that force was a property that arose due to particles, but they did not have the means to experiment their theories. They however already had the mathematics and equations to back their theories, especially for electromagnetic force. Up until the early nineties, the standard model of particle physics had electrons, protons and neutrons as the smallest particles of matter, that made up atoms which made up molecules which made up all matter that we can see and feel. When the study of forces got stronger(see what I did there), they hypothesized the existence of smaller particles, ones that caused force to exist. In order to experiment, Scientists built underground colliders (just like the large hadron collider we have at Cern) and began smashing hydrogen protons together. The protons eventually crashed head on and presto! a bunch of stuff came tumbling out. The <i>Quarks</i> and other micro particles were discovered. The standard model of particle physics now looks like this:</div>
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These 17 particles are the smallest particles in nature known to mankind today. There are six <i>Quarks, </i>and quarks do not stay alone in nature. They combine to make up <i>Hadrons</i>, like <i>Protons</i> and <i>Neutrons</i>. There are six <i>Leptons</i>, for example <i>Electrons</i>, and cannot be broken down further. There are 4 <i>Gauge Bosons</i>, and the recently discovered <i>Higgs Boson</i>.</div>
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Of these new found particles, the force carriers are ones of importance to us. These are the <i>Gauge Bosons</i> on our chart, namely the <i>Gluon, </i>the<i> Photon, </i>the<i> Z </i>and<i> W Bosons</i>.</div>
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Remember what we discussed earlier? Force between particles exists because of an exchange of force carriers.</div>
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The <b>strong nuclear force</b> exists due to the exchange of <b>Gluons</b> between Protons and Neutrons.</div>
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The <b>electromagnetic force</b> exists due to the exchange of <b>Photons</b>.</div>
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The <b>weak nuclear force</b> exists due to exchange of <b>Z and W Bosons</b>.</div>
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The particle causing <b>gravitational force</b> hasn't been discovered yet, but is christened the <b>Graviton</b>. It is the quest for this Graviton that lead to the birth of the string theory. </div>
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The understanding we have of how gravity works was proposed by Einstein in his <i>General Theory Of Relativity</i>, in the year 1915. In simple words, Einstein claims the universe is like a fabric of space and time. Bodies with mass rest on this fabric causing a depression, and lighter bodies that come within the periphery fall into the depression and stay in orbit. This is the force of gravity the heavy object exerts on the lighter body. For better understanding, read article <a href="http://www.thesociopathicbutterfly.com/2016/03/gravitational-waves-for-dummies.html" target="_blank"><span style="color: blue;"><b>gravitational waves for dummies</b></span></a>. This theory is still upheld by physicists. The theory however belongs to classical physics, as opposed to standard or modern physics because it does not involve particles. Here is were the problem began.</div>
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Einstein, and all physicists of the time and time thereafter, are not comfortable following two models of physics. While three of the forces are known to exist as a result of particle interaction, one seems to exist because of an entirely different phenomenon. Einstein wanted to unify all theories, unify the two models, explain the forces with a single coherent theory which in turn would explain all the physical aspects of the universe. He called this the <i>Unified Theory</i>, or <i style="font-weight: bold;">The Theory Of Everything</i>.</div>
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The answer, or at least the hope of one, was actually already there in a very old mathematics text book. In the late 1960s, physicist <i>Gabriele Veneziano</i> was looking for a set of equations to describe the strong nuclear force. He happened to glance through an old mathematics text book to find a 200 year old equation written by <i>Leonhard Euler. </i>He later realized, the equations that were considered mere mathematical curiosity, perfectly explained the strong force. He later wrote a paper on it and was immortalized.</div>
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Physicists argue that that is just a tale and in actual, they derived a function over years of work and within it, accidentally discovered the string theory. However the discovery, the string theory was found within these equations written by Euler.</div>
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Euler's equations seemed to mathematically describe the strong force. Physicists fiddled with the equations, mostly cooped up in their attics, and realized that the equations indicated towards some sort of new particle, one that vibrated and had an internal structure. Most importantly, they realized this new found object was not a point particle. It was rather, a vibrating one dimensional string, like a rubber band, that could vibrate, stretch and contract. The concept completely agreed with the formula which in turn exactly described the strong force. The string theory was born.</div>
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This theory however, was killed in its prime, mainly because mainstream physics was focusing on point particles and the idea of a string composing all matter was absurd. Collision experiments were revealing new particles, almost a new one everyday, and in it's glow, the string theory quickly faded.</div>
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As physicists discovered the field carriers, they were able to explain the forces in nature. In fact, they believe, when we rewind time to seconds after the big bang, the universe was trillions of degrees in temperature and the field carriers we know of, were actually one! This was a marvelous revelation because it suddenly gave us an explanation of the forces on a subatomic level and gave us a consistent theory of elementary particle physics, one that Einstein had always dreamed of. </div>
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Nobel prizes were dolled out, the parties went on till the early hours of the morning and champagne flowed like rivers (assuming physicists celebrate just like us simpletons). But behind it all was one giant flaw. One glaring omission. Although we had a concrete description of the forces that rule nature, there was one force that did not fit the bill. Gravity.</div>
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Reveling in the success of the particle theory, except for a handful of physicists, the scientific community soon forgot all about the string theory. It was an elegant theory yes, but it didn't satisfy any of the equations. In fact the string theory had a few major flaws:</div>
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First it predicted the existence of a particle called the Tachyon, one that was faster than light! Second it required the existence of ten dimensions in order to exist. Third it predicted a massless particle that was never seen in experiments. These assumptions seemed crazy to people.</div>
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By the year 1970, there were only a handful of string theorists left. They were however adamant to prove the existence of strings. They believe the elusive graviton, the particle giving rise to gravity, was described by strings at the quantum level. In fact they later claimed graviton was the massless particle that solved at least one conundrum of the string theory. They also believed strings were what would eventually describe the gauge bosons, thereby unifying the four forces. They believed the string theory, was the theory of everything.</div>
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In the year 1984, John Shwarz and Michael Greene finally reduced all mathematical anomalies to zero. They had the mathematics to the dot. They had fixed the string theory equation and it's problems. The equations could also encompass all four forces. This was the first theory to ever bring together all four fundamental forces under one roof. The community went crazy over the discovery. Suddenly hundreds of physicists were on board, tackling the string theory. This is what the theory proclaims:</div>
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All matter in the universe is made up of atoms, we know that. Atoms are made up of electrons orbiting around the nucleus. The nucleus is protons and neutrons held together by strong force. The protons and Neutrons are made of quarks. This was the standard model and known concept. String theorists made the bold claim that quarks, and all matter in the universe, is made up of an even smaller particle, a tiny vibrating string, a wiggling band of energy. These strings are unimaginably small. If the atom were the solar system, an individual string would be as big as a tree on earth! Here's the key idea: Just as how different vibrations of a guitar string gives rise to different but distinct musical notes, the different ways these strings vibrate, gives unique properties to particles, like mass or charge. In essence, every particle is made of these strings. The difference in properties is due to the difference in their vibrations. This paragraph summarizes hundreds of years of work, this is the string theory.</div>
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This would mean the entire universe is made up of only these strings! It brings about a sense of cosmic symphony. This theory also created a gentle bridge between the subatomic particle based standard physics, and the general relativity based classic physics.</div>
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There was still one drawback though. The theory was only solid on paper, with mathematics. There were, and still aren't, any experiments or tests conducted to prove this theory. Another hitch in the theory was the prediction of ten dimensions, nine of space and one of time. In order to be taken seriously, string theorists had to explain the existence of more than the four dimensions we know, three of space and one of time. They finally had an explanation for it.</div>
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If you're sitting next to a window, look outside at the electric lines or telephone lines. What do they look like? Single dimensional lines right? Yet if you hold one of these cables in your hand you know they are in fact multi dimensional. For an ant walking on this cable there are multiple paths it can traverse, the length, diameter and the circumference. String physicists claim this is why we cannot see or find all the dimensions, because they are infinitesimally small. </div>
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The three dimensions we know of, the X Y and Z, are large enough to perceive. Time as a dimension is also measurable. The other 6 dimensions of space, are so small, that it is invisible to even our imagination. These dimensions probably even morph into multi universes! This made sense. In fact physicists claim the reason they cannot locate the graviton, is because it is made up of strings that permeate our universe and transcend to a different one.</div>
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The string theory finally has wheels. It is propelling in the community and turning heads. It since then gave rise to multiple variations which are now culminated into one grand theory called the M-theory. Edward Witten who brought the equations of the then existing 5 theories together, says M stands for magic, mystery or matrix. This is the current theory in place. The mysterious strings are still elusive to physicists but we have faith in these guys, they won't rest until they find it.</div>
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Now imagine if you will, a universe made of one single particle. Strings. Strings that vibrate and interact. Every universe, every dimension, all inhabited by strings. Physicists believe there is a sea of strings, and it's from this sea of strings that rises the reality we know and perceive. </div>
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Indian Gurus and Yogis preach of Prana. Prana (प्राण, prāṇa) is the Sanskrit word for "life force" or vital principle. It is also known as 'cosmic energy, or the 'divine cosmos'. They say '<i>every molecule in the universe is vibrating with divine energy. This divine energy is the holographic pattern of the universe'</i>. Are these holy men speaking of the string theory, only in a spiritual context?</div>
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The universe is said to be alive with cosmic energy, it is present in every creation, even the inanimate. This energy, or prana, is always moving, expanding, hitting objects, passing through them, emanating from them and converging into them. The whole universe and everything in it is connected by way of this energy.</div>
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There is in the universe, an invisible pool of infinite energy, and we draw from it, sustain on it. By drawing from the same pool, we are connected. Doesn't this sound very much like the physicists version of the sea of strings?</div>
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This energy is also known as the <i>'aura'. </i>The aura is known to be an energy that surrounds all beings and objects, vibrating and glowing with colour. Strangely, this is also how physicists defined the strings that make up matter.</div>
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Whichever the concept, physics or philosophy, there is one common underlying message: We are all connected. Connected by way of energy, prana or strings doesn't matter. We are drawing energy from one ocean, the universe, and connected through it. This would only mean, we are but one.</div>
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The bible says <i>'Because there is one loaf, we who are many are one body; for we all partake of the one loaf.' </i>The loaf here can easily be substituted by the universe, or strings or the cosmic energy! </div>
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There are signs of it everywhere. Spirituals have always explored the divine energy by way of yoga, and science is always rigging machines to reveal the unknown. </div>
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I'll leave you with this scene from <i>All-Star Superman</i>. Lex Luther has injected himself with a serum that give him powers like superman. He has in fact all but killed superman. In the middle of his victory speech, he pauses. He laments that so powerful is his vision, he can actually see the atoms and the electromagnetic spectrum. He exclaims that the fundamental forces are yoked by consciousness! Everything's connected. Everyone.</div>
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-5457574884420398832016-08-01T14:01:00.002+05:302021-03-26T02:21:48.639+05:30Schrödinger's Cat and the Leap of Faith<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Science and Philosophy are those bickering twins that are preaching the same gospel but in different languages. Every scientist has used philosophy to explain science and every philosopher has used science to credit philosophy. Scientists have always been fascinated by how the mind can control matter while philosophers have always connected quantum energy with consciousness.<br />
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We're living in an advanced era, with science reaching unprecedented heights and philosophy exploring life altering methods. It only makes sense for us, the not so involved, to get involved. These posts are an attempt to understand scientific theories and their underlying philosophical implications.<br />
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Physicists have always used <i>thought experiments</i> to conjure and conclude theories. In earlier days it was a matter of necessity, since electron microscopes and Hadron Colliders weren't around. But even with the availability of modern tools, thought experiments are how new revelations are being unfolded.<br />
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The concept is quite simple. You see something strange and you cannot quite explain why it occurred. Instead of jumping into experiments, you first formulate a theoretical explanation as to why it happened and then proceed to prove your theory, ergo unraveling why the strange phenomenon occurred. This is a form of thought experiment.<br />
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A thought experiment is what lead Einstein, Podolski and Rosen to came up with their famous EPR discussion. All of this began with scientists arguing over the nature of light. Is it a wave, or a particle?<br />
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Light exhibits numerous properties. Reflection and refraction were clear properties of waves, and since light exhibited them, light was considered to be a waveform. But then came the discovery of the photoelectric effect. This particular phenomenon was unsolvable using the waveform equations. This lead physicists to hypothesize the particle behaviour of light, that light existed not as a wave but as a small, singular particle. They said light exists as packets of energy, or quanta. Thus, the Photon was born.<br />
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This lead to a peculiar scenario. Some occurrences, like bending of light, the <i>Doppler Effect, </i>etc<i> </i>were only explainable by the wave nature of light and not the particle nature, while other phenomenon like the photoelectric effect, images formed in pixels etc were explainable only by the particle nature of light. The experiments went on with multiple papers being released and Nobel prizes being won until the discussion lead to the final conclusion: light exhibits both properties. This was coined <i>the dual nature of light</i>.<br />
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But on what basis does light choose to present either form? Surprisingly, the answer is not one that seems very sciency. The deciding factor, ladies and gentlemen, is YOU!<br />
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This is explained by the Copenhagen Interpretation, and the final step leading to the Schrodinger's cat experiment.<br />
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In it's simplest sense, the Copenhagen Interpretation, devised in the years 1925-1927 by Niels Bohr and Werner Heisenberg(no not the breaking bad guy), is defined as the following:<br />
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Physical systems do not have definite properties. They exhibit every possible property(known as superposition), until measured, upon which they collapse into a singular state. This applied to our light scenario would mean light exists as both, a wave and a particle, simultaneously. Depending on what sort of experiment or measurement we are performing, light then collapses to assume one of the two forms.<br />
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The milk in your fridge is both, good for consumption, and spoiled. Only when you take a sip will it assume on of the two forms.<br />
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Mind boggling isn't it. A tad bit silly to comprehend as well.<br />
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Now, coming to the Schrodinger's Cat experiment. Probably the most famous and ideal example of the Copenhagen Interpretation. Austrian physicist Erwin Schrodinger wrote a letter to Einstein with his experiment as an example for the theories outlined in the EPR article. The experiment goes as follows:<br />
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<i> A cat is penned up in a steel chamber, along with the following device (which must be secured against direct interference by the cat): in a Geiger counter(instrument that measures radioactivity), there is a tiny bit of radioactive substance, so small, that perhaps in the course of the hour one of the atoms decays, but also, with equal probability, perhaps none. If it happens, the counter tube discharges and through a relay releases a hammer that shatters a small flask of hydrocyanic acid. If one has left this entire system to itself for an hour, one would say that the cat still lives if meanwhile no atom has decayed. The first atomic decay would have poisoned it. The psi-function of the entire system would express this by having in it the living and dead cat (pardon the expression) mixed or smeared out in equal parts.</i><br />
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">By Dhatfield - Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0</span></i><br />
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To explain this in layman terms, in an enclosed cage we have a cat, a radioactive element that may or may not decay, a Geiger counter that measures radioactive decay, and a flask with poison. The Geiger counter is rigged to break the flask thereby releasing the poison and killing the cat, but only if it measures radioactive emission.<br />
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Since we do not know if there is any decay at all, we can only say, through the <i>Copenhagen Interpretation</i>, that the cat is BOTH alive and dead. Until the cage is opened. Only when the cage is opened, does the cat assume one of the two forms.<br />
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Until you open the box, you will never know what lies inside.<br />
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Do you now see the philosophical impact of this scientific breakthrough? Until you open the box you never know. Until you try, you won't succeed. Until you sow, you will not reap. If I had a rupee for every time I heard that line at church, I'd have at least ten rupees(only because I don't go to church that often).<br />
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It's really important to take that leap of faith. That dream job you wanted, the car you wanted to buy, the girl you wanted to propose to, none of it is going to simply fall on to your lap. You're going to have to get off your ass and get it. At least try to. It's very true what they say, the grief of losing is much less painful than the regret of not trying.<br />
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The next time you're facing a difficult situation remember this: The Universe is on your side. She has used all her powers to make every outcome a possibility. All she needs from you is for you to reach out and grab it. If you don't get what you want, that's alright, because the next set of possibilities are already laid out. You're just going to have to look for it and reach out again. You got fired, big deal. Dust it off. The Universe has already exploded a multitude of options for you. But she's not going to give them to you, no sir. You have to take a stride in her direction and reach out for it. Your girlfriend dumped you, you failed an exam, you lost your keys, you're at a dead end job, you're unhappy with life, your children are ungrateful, your car won't start, your plants won't blossom, IT DOES NOT MATTER.<br />
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Dream of the alternate possibility, of a positive reality. It's already present in the universe. It will only manifest into a reality when YOU truly believe you deserve it and reach out for it. Imagine it, Envision it, Live it.<br />
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-29414840798841701402016-04-24T18:40:00.000+05:302017-01-09T01:30:48.668+05:30All's Fair in Love and War<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">t was the first thought that
came to her as she woke up. He was gone. And, soon, this bedroom, the house in
whose eastern corner it sat, and the tiny garden outside with its gnarled old
red hibiscus and the half-grown mango tree they had planted together, all those
would be gone as well. It was the strangest feeling ever. She was not the kind
to stay in bed lazing around, but this morning she just couldn't get herself to
get out of bed. She was mentally drained and emotionally beat. Her thoughts
drifted to the day she first met Walter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">It was the year 1929. The world was still recovering from ‘The
World War’ that shook humanity to its very existence. A confident twenty two
year old girl from England, Helen Paige, landed at the Tokyo international
airport accompanied by her PR manager and marketing head. Helen had just
written a book accounting the life of a fictional character who fought in and
survived 'The Great War'. The details of the war however were compiled after
over three years’ hard work, interviews, travels and meetings with war
veterans, commanders and also ministers of the government. Word quickly spread
that there would be a book outlining details of the war, secrets from within
closed walls and plans for the post war world. The book was an instant best
seller. Helen was now a famous figure and she was currently touring to market
her brainchild to more readers.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">As the trio exited the airport they were greeted by a cool
mid-April spring breeze and deafening cheers from fans being held back by
struggling policemen. She waved at them and blew a kiss which only turned up
the volume. They then got into a waiting limousine and cruised to the hotel
‘The Imperial’ for a book signing event and an honorary lunch.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The book signing was a great success. Fans turned out in thousands
and many had to be sent away but they were still happy having caught a glimpse
of the latest literary phenomenon. Helen and her team were then escorted to the
hotels magnificently decorated dining room. Helen was immediately in awe of the
beauty the room exuded. She stopped dead in her track and swung her neck around
taking in the elegance of the walls, the intricacy of the architectural designs
and the precision with which the objects were placed to create a visually
soothing sight. The Japanese sure knew how to woo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">It was here that she met Walter Karl Muller. The three British
guests were seated at a table strategically placed at the center of the dining
area and there was an additional chair which would soon be occupied by the
hotel owner who was going to join them for lunch. Two security guards stood
nearby to ward of snooping fans. As they discussed plans and waited for Mr.
Tee-Jong to join them, Helen's eyes met with those of a stranger sitting three
tables opposite her. It wasn't a moment of angelic proportions and there were
no violins played in her head, but the stare did last a few seconds too long.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Throughout lunch the two stole glances of each other, but neither
ventured a smile or a friendly wave. Helen didn't want to make the first move
and Walter was just shy. After lunch the two managers retired to their rooms
for rest and Helen strolled into the bar for a much needed scotch. Over a
rather expensive glass of Glenfiddich she mused over how she had gone from
drinking beer straight from the bottle to sipping 25 year aged single malt
scotch whiskey. She felt a light tap on her shoulder and she turned to face a
very handsome man. He had neatly combed jet black hair and a clean shaven face.
He stood tall at six feet one inch and had a large frame. If she wasn’t five
feet eleven inches herself, she would've been dwarfed by this man.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"Hello ma'am, I am Walter Karl Muller. I am from Berlin here
on business. I have read your book and I greatly admire your writing. I would
like to point out a small mistake though, one that my father, who in fact
fought the World War, happened to bring to my attention. It's a very minor
mistake really, but an error nonetheless. The number of ships sunk by German
submarines before President Wilson declared war on Germany was in fact eight
and not seven."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">When Helen's manuscript was accepted for publishing by the <i>PipingTea</i> publishers,
they had given her a speech on do's and don'ts. One very important one was to
keep your pride at check and not react to criticism when angry. Helen unfortunately
was a very arrogant woman and her ego suffered a massive blow at this man’s
accusation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"I beg to differ Mr. Muller. That information came from the
then American naval commander in chief who was tracking those very merchant
ships." Helen scorned. “Ah but that's the problem. The chief was nested in
his comfortable bunker reading from a very outdated radar machine. My dad was
on one of those naval submarines. He saw the attack first hand." Walter
responded.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">This infuriated Helen further but she knew she was beat. She
turned to face her drink. "I'm sorry if I have offended you Miss Paige.
Actually I was very nervous coming up to you and blurted the first thing that
came to mind. Maybe we could start again?" Walter asked innocently. She
turned to face him. He did seem rather honest about what he had said. She
decided to give him another chance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
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<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">As the night progressed Walter loosened up and although he was
awkward and clumsy at first, as he got comfortable around her his confidence
rose. Helen found herself constantly laughing at his witty responses and hooked
to his stories from his travels around the world. She reciprocated by
enchanting him with her tale of rags to riches and the experience she had on
that life changing journey. When they left the bar at 1 am the only question on
their mind was ‘Your room or mine?’ Helen being the celebrity had the
presidential suite and that’s where they ended up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">They spent the next day together, exploring Tokyo. They didn’t once
leave the others hand. They had breakfast at the <i>Bondi Café</i>, took a walk in <i>Ueno
Park</i>, Admired Greco-Buddhist art at the <i>Tokyo
National Museum</i>, enjoyed the traditional Kabuki drama at the <i>Kabuki-Za</i> theatre and settled in for
wine at Shinjuku’s <i>Jip</i> Wine Bar</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">On December 18<sup>th</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>1930,
Walter and Helen promised to stand by each other till death do them apart, in
the beautiful St. Thomas church at Leipzig. The snow outside was the perfect
backdrop for the small ceremony attended by only family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">On January 15<sup>th</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>1931,
after having explored the islands of Maldives, they bought a house in the
beautifully artistic city New Orleans.<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>PipingTea</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>had an office on Iberville Street so
Helen could easily continue her literary work. Walter was always looking to
expand his business into the US and this was the perfect opportunity. They
received their first house warming gift from Mr. Tee-Jong, the owner of the
‘The Imperial’. It was a Mango sapling. They planted it in their garden later
that evening.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">They fell in love with the city instantly. They loved the jazz
bars, they spent hours admiring the old cultural architecture, and they sat
opposite each other soaking in knowledge at the public libraries. The city
hosted numerous celebrations and carnivals which Walter and Helen actively joined
in. Walter learned to play the Guitar while Helen enjoyed painting.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">On 1<sup>st</sup><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>September
1939, Germany invaded Poland triggering the Second World War. France and the
United Kingdom declared war on Germany and Germany continued its plans to
conquer all of Europe. Walter and Helen followed the war closely through
newspapers and radio news. Both their homelands were involved, ironically
against each other.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">One morning Walter broke the worst news to Helen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“I am going to Germany to enlist in the armed forces.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“You’re mad Walter! You have always said Hitler’s approach to
communism is wrong, who would want to fight for him?” Helen asked fighting back
tears. Walter kissed her. “It’s not that monster I’m fighting for dear, it’s my
country I want to defend. The reasons might be wrong but my country is at war
and she needs me. I have to go” Walter responded caressing her hair. They
argued all night and fell asleep with damp cheeks.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">When she woke up next day he was gone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She was brought back to reality by the chiming of the ice cream
truck outside. She looked to her right at the empty spot on the bed. Just last
night it was occupied by Walter. He had left without telling her to avoid
confrontation. In that snap second she made a decision, no doubt influenced by
the empty bed. She was going back to England, to fight for her country. Her
only purpose for living was now gone and she would rather die for her country
than live for no one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The next morning she was in England and after a month’s training
she was enlisted as a medic for the Royal Army Medical Corps.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Walter cried for the first time the morning he left his beloved
Helen. He didn’t wake up that morning for he had never really slept. When Helen
had finally fallen asleep exhausted of their argument, he slipped out of bed,
packed a small bag with the essentials and tiptoed out of his house. He stopped
only to admire the gorgeous, half grown mango tree. They had nurtured it like
their child. Then he thought of Helen and cried.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The next day Walter enlisted in the army. He went through a
rigorous training program and was a fine addition to the Luftwaffe, the German
Air Force.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">In early July, 1940, Hitler declared aerial attack on Britain. The
attacks, code named ‘The Blitz’, were carried out at odd hours of the night
catching the Royal Air Force by surprise. Walter flew the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Dornier Do 17</i><span class="apple-converted-space"> </span>bomber aircraft, notorious for its
weight. Walter was part of The Blitz, and every night he flew alongside his
countrymen dropping bombs on a sleepy Britain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">During war, it was decided to attack only factories and army
bases, to render countries unable to manufacture more weapons and to annihilate
the fighting forces. It was soon learned that war has no rules and to win you
have to play dirty. After the first few nights the Luftwaffe went all out and
bombed everything in their path. Soon civilian buildings and homes were being
bombed. The entire city was engulfed in flames. Walter always stared down at
the mayhem his bomber caused. He was sorry, but death was an unavoidable
collateral of war. It was during this contemplation that his plane was hit. He
didn’t see the<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span><i>Supermarine
Spitfire<span class="apple-converted-space"> </span></i>rise above the night
sky and lock in its machine gun on him. It fired and in seconds he had lost his
left wing. The plane spiraled uncontrollably. As it fell to the ground the
canopy above the cockpit crashed open and the night sky sucked Walter out. He
flew through the air and crashed into a tree whose branches cracked and dropped
Walter to the floor. He was gravely injured but still alive. He tried to roll
and felt a sharp pain. He couldn’t judge where it was from and quickly realized
it from everywhere, almost every bone in his bone was broken. That is when it
dawned on him. He was going to die. He was never going to see Helen again. He
wasn’t going to have the chance to raise a family. He was never going to pluck
mangoes from his garden. A face materialized in front of him. A hallucination
of death no doubt. He thought it was an angel coming to take him. She looked
like Helen. She looked exactly like Helen. He smiled. He closed his eyes for
the last time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">When Hitler declared its aerial attack on Britain Helen knew it
would be a disaster. On the first night of the attack the Medical Corps worked
around the clock. There were constant calls from factories that were being
bombed and from the army base. They were soon out of ambulances and Helen and
her team resorted to using civilian vehicles to drive to the scene, extract the
wounded and get them to a safe zone. In the next few days the Luftwaffe began
bombing civilian populated areas and Helen realized that war had no rules. They
were working even harder now that the number of injured had tripled and she did
so knowing that at any moment a bomb could land on her head.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">It was a cold July night and Helen stood on the driveway of her
medical center waiting for the ambulance to pick her. They were headed into the
city for the fifth time to extract the wounded. She was staring at the sky were
a beautiful display of fireworks were in progress. Except they were not
fireworks but the Royal Air Force and the Luftwaffe engaged in aerial combat.
She was going to be driving exactly under them in a few minutes. The ambulance
came to a halt with a screech and she got in with her team. They drove scarily
fast into the city, dodging the wreck the war had left on the city. When they
arrived she stared at the horror but it did not surprise her because she was
already used to it. She got to work searching for bodies, deciding who were
alive and had the best chance to live, who needed immediate attention and who
were already dead. The one’s who were critical would be taken back to the
station and the others would be treated on the spot until another ambulance
arrived. The sound above was deafening and continued to blare. It was actually
a soothing sound because the sound of machine guns meant the planes were
battling each other and there would be no bombs dropped on them until the
combat was over. As she helped carry an injured woman to the ambulance, there
was a loud blast in the sky. She looked up to see a plane explode and a shower
of debris come floating down. They helped the lady onto a gurney and sat under
the shelter of the van to protect themselves from the debris. She heard a loud
crack behind her and turned to notice a body fall into trees and then onto the
ground. She saw him try to roll. He was alive. She ran towards him and knelt
down beside him. The Nazi Swastika was proudly printed on the left breast. She
pulled out his helmet. She couldn’t believe her eyes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The bloody face was Walters.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
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<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">She saw him look up at her. He seemed to recognize her. He smiled
and closed his eyes. He had lost consciousness but he was still breathing. She
started dragging his body towards the ambulance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“Help me someone!” she yelled at her crew. They stood and stared.
Right then she knew although to her this was Walter to the rest he was a Nazi
trying to kill their children. They would not help her. She didn’t care, she
continued dragging Walter towards the ambulance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Just then a battalion of soldiers marched in. they were there to
help the wounded. The commander in charge saw Helen and ran towards her. “Drop
that man down at once miss. Your services are needed by the people of Britain,
not these Nazi dogs”, he yelled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“This man is my husband! He was not born a Nazi he was made a Nazi
and I will save him, if it’s the last thing I do!” She yelled back. She was
determined to save her Walter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The commander raised his gun at her. “If you do not release that
man at once, I swear by the queen I will not hesitate to shoot you” The
commander said. “You do what you must officer” she responded, still dragging
Walter towards the ambulance.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">The commander was a kind man. But this was war. He looked around.
He saw his battalion looking at him. He saw the medics waiting his next move.
He knew they were scarred by war. They had lost families, they had lost their
wives and children, and they had lost their homes and everything they owned.
They hated the Germans. They did not see a woman’s husband in Walter but a Nazi
soldier. To them, Helen was committing treason. The commander knew he had no
choice. He fired. The bullet ripped through </span><span style="font-size: 18px;">Helen's</span><span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> cheek killing her instantly.
She fell to the floor and Walter fell over her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">They embraced for the last time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black; font-size: 13.5pt;"><b><u>11<sup>th</sup> October,
1950</u></b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“This house is just perfect John”, an excited Martha said looking
at the elegant interiors. “I love it too Marty”, said a gleeful John. “Shall I
book it then?” asked the realtor. A little girl came running in. “Laura sweetie
what do you think?” asked Martha kneeling down to level with her six year old
daughter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">“I love it mom. Especially the big Mango tree in the garden.”</span> </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdNdXqM1oHiQ6Ta-xaBhAVvbSHbGvhYT4x6mSXmaionQd2w2UID7cLVRWJ2J8lCgwT26wjRUVShUuyLWlQWeCxSAvT2T1Z7JDahEFjV6q-BtVEHkXqHf9edZjSqaCK9X7R2QZxsR1JSAO/s1600/war.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkdNdXqM1oHiQ6Ta-xaBhAVvbSHbGvhYT4x6mSXmaionQd2w2UID7cLVRWJ2J8lCgwT26wjRUVShUuyLWlQWeCxSAvT2T1Z7JDahEFjV6q-BtVEHkXqHf9edZjSqaCK9X7R2QZxsR1JSAO/s1600/war.png" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0cm;">
<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
</div>
</div>
Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-30703983177647755742016-04-08T16:55:00.001+05:302021-10-22T04:29:47.360+05:30The Bubbled World of an Introvert<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
Yes I am an introvert and no, what you think about it doesn't matter. What I have to say is not drawn from articles skimmed over google or from perusing scholarly articles written by psychologists. It is in fact from someone who knows what it is to be an introvert<br />
<br />
Introversion is largely misunderstood. This is mainly because the world has understood the mind of an introvert from the perspective of psychologists who themselves are not introverts. We do not let you peek into our minds because, well we're introverts. Here are some facts about us socially awkward beings.<br />
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</div>
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<br />
<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<b>We sit in a corner and are too shy to speak. WRONG!</b></h3>
The first myth I'd like to debunk is that introverts sit quietly and never speak to people. This is very wrong. We do not sit quietly in a corner when in a social situation. Here's what we really do: we speak to everyone just like everybody else, but in our minds we're hoping the conversation ends soon so we can go back to our thoughts. When I confess to being an introvert people say "But you're standing here talking to us right now?!". Well yes I am, but I'd rather not be! Introverts do not lock themselves away from the world. They do not isolate their being to a lonely bar stool in the club. They will interact, mingle, laugh and joke around but the underlying fact is, they'd rather not. Extroverts draw energy from social synergy, they get energized by communication. Not introverts. Social interactions drain us of our energy. It is this fact you need to understand, we interact but we'd rather not. We believe energy is limited and choose not to expend it unnecessarily. This does not mean we don't use it at all. We do, but only with people we have truly accepted.<br />
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<b>We live in a metaphorical bubble</b></h3>
The word 'introvert' has a very simple meaning that actually defines us exactly. Coined by Carl Jung, an 'introvert' is a person whose motives and actions are directed inwards. Now this in no way means we are selfish beings concerned with only ourselves. It simply means we enjoy the company of our minds better than anything else. We build a bubble around ourselves, and it is a tiny one. We are most comfortable within this bubble than the giant oyster that is the outside world. We like to contemplate, formulate, argue and make astute observations but all of this only within our minds. For some it's the fear of judgement, for some it's the fear of being noticed, for some it's the fear of being misunderstood and for some it's just a matter of minding one's own business. We would rather explore the world with the best company in the world: Ourselves.<br />
Now this does not mean we are loners. We do make friends, we do enjoy the outdoors, we do indulge in romance, but the list of people we enjoy all of it with is very, very limited.<br />
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<b>People do make it into the bubble</b></h3>
We do not hate people. Some of us even voluntarily talk to everyone around. But we do not form bonds easily. We just relate to very few people and do not like feigning interest just to seem likable. There is a careful screening process that you are going through in our minds. We need to know we can trust you, we need to know our personalities match, we need to know we have common interests. We do all of this with a smile on our face so you don't know it's happening. That being said, introverts are definitely loyal friends once you're accepted into the bubble. They also let loose and have genuine fun when with the people they truly like. We may have a large contact list but there will be only a handful of people we consider our own.<br />
Once we have accepted someone into our bubble, we let our hair down and free up. But remember, it's just as easy to be kicked out of the bubble, as difficult it was to get in. If we feel we are unwanted, we are gone.<br />
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
<b>The secret behind talkative introverts</b></h3>
Now a lot of you might have come across people who claim to be introverts but seem to be very chatty. I have been accused of the same. People say "you're in no way an introvert, you blabber all the time". Here's the truth behind us excessive talkers: If you pay attention to what we speak, you will realize it is utter gibberish. Irrelevant stories, unintelligible talk, illogical parodies and for most of the time ill timed humor is what resonates from our vocal chords. The reason is very simple really. We suffer from social anxiety yes, but what troubles us more in a gathering is awkward silence. When I'm in a group that isn't speaking, I'm suddenly conscious of the fact that I'm visible to these people. Introverts like being lost in a crowd, not put in the spotlight. We would rather be listening to a bunch of people speak while formulating deep counter arguments in our minds and leaving them there, than have to speak ourselves. But when there is silence, we feel anxious. We want the others to start interacting again so we can retreat unnoticed into our own bubble. It is this anxiety that causes us to start speaking unnecessarily. We will continue to speak until the rest of the group has latched on to one of the mindless baits we have provided and continue the banter. Mind you, we are not manipulating the conversation, this is just a defense mechanism that we have to employ in order to continue enjoying our time out in a group.<br />
That being said, within the right setting and in a circle of people we consider our friends, we are very eloquent and more than willing to share our thoughts and make genuine conversation.<br />
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<b>We love to learn and are intent listeners</b></h3>
We love learning and listening to people speak is the greatest way to learn. Every person has a niche, something they are passionate about and have a lot of knowledge on. We love listening to people talk about informative topics because we enjoy soaking up knowledge. This makes us good listeners. But remember, we are the judges of what topics are informative and what aren't, so yea we're picky here as well and different introverts have different areas of interest.<br />
When interested, we give you our complete, undivided attention, make sure we understand everything you have to say and sometimes even let you in on what opinions we have about what you just shared.<br />
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<b>We would rather write than speak</b></h3>
Here's another accusation that has been doled out on me, especially over a text conversation: "You're not an introvert, we have been texting for days and you have a lot to say."<br />
OK firstly, introverts are not empty in the head people who have nothing to say. On the contrary, our minds have been overclocked since birth and there is in fact an ocean of thoughts and ideas we'd like to discuss, but only with the right people.<br />
Secondly, the reason why we're a tad more open over test messages or email is because we have the option of ending the conversation when we please, and this privilege to walk away allows us to loosen the noose a little. Don't be surprised if you set up a date with an introvert over text messages and a completely different person shows up at dinner(by completely different I mean emotionally and not physically. If it's the latter, run and don't look back).<br />
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<b>How to deal with an Introvert</b></h3>
Let me make one thing very clear, the more you chase us, the further away from you we will run. As I've mentioned before, we believe in spending energy only when required because our pool is limited and easily exhausted. When we are badgered with unwanted affection, we feel threatened. Smothering us gives us the signal you're after our energy, we go on the defensive, and before you know it, we are nowhere to be found.<br />
You need to allow an introvert to feel comfortable. You need to have genuine interest, and if you don't why the hell are you around anyway? Once we feel you're OK, we will extend the boundaries of our bubble to envelop you and trust me, you will know when you're in.<br />
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Here's a Cyanide and Happiness comic for being sweet enough to read till the end<br />
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-60160086066917234092016-03-06T18:44:00.001+05:302017-01-09T02:03:14.020+05:30Gravitational Waves for Dummies.<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">How do physicists
celebrate I wonder. Maybe peek through the Hubble telescope and watch two comets collide and yell CHEERS? Maybe accelerate 2 protons in a hadron collider
and yell MOZEL TOV when they collide, spilling out compositional matter? Or
maybe just clink glasses of champagne like the rest of us boring folk. However
the method, On February 11</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;">th</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> 2016, celebrate they did, and the world
joined them, when they announced the disturbance detected on September 14 2015
was in fact caused by gravitational waves proving their existence and giving
credibility to Einstein’s prediction made a hundred years ago!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now a lot of
us joined in the celebration, clapped and smiled, but deep down wondered <i>what the heck are these guys talking about?</i>
<i>Gravitational waves? LIGO? I don’t get
it! </i></span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Let’s put
the entire discovery into simple terms and get on track with these genius minds
and be a part of this significant time in history.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #783f04;">The
Universe</span>: When Einstein was formulating the theory of ‘special relativity’, he
found that the Universe was a fabric woven with space and time. He named it the
‘spacetime continuum’. Imagine the entire universe as a giant, stretched cloth, woven not
with silk but with space and time. We now have our Universe, the cloth. Figure a and b give a better view.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 107%;"> (Fig a: The Universe - A Stretched Cloth) </span><span style="line-height: 17.12px;">(Fig b: The Universe - Scientific rep.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="color: #351c75;">Gravity</span>: Gravity
was discovered by Sir Isaac Newton, and the geometry of Newtonian Gravity was
already in place. Einstein, after publishing his theory of special relativity,
wondered how gravity could be incorporated into his idea of the spacetime
continuum (the stretched cloth). After many, many years of research and hypothesizing
Einstein concluded that objects with mass, cause a dent in the fabric of
spacetime. A body with mass causes a curve (depression) in the fabric of
spacetime. If the mass is large enough, it can cause a curve large enough for
other bodies to fall into and stay in orbit. This is Gravity.</span> <span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Remember our
cloth? Imagine holding the cloth at the four ends, stretching it out, like how
our universe is stretched. Now imagine a Bowling ball placed on the cloth. The
weight of the ball will cause the cloth to sag (Fig c). This is what bodies
with mass do to the spacetime continuum. They cause a depression. Now imagine a
small golf ball thrown into this depression, sideways. It will revolve around the
bowling ball, and the depression will not allow it to leave the outer vicinity.
This is the force of gravity exerted by the bowling ball on the golf ball,
causing it to stay in place. Now the smaller ball also has mass, but with
respect to the bigger ball it is negligible. We now have Gravity.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Fig c: Large ball depressing the cloth, smaller ball falling in its pull) (Fig d: Moon attracted by Earth's Gravitational pull)</span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Gravitational
Waves</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">: We now know how a body with mass induces Gravity. Einstein went on to
predict, that when Objects with mass move, they cause ripples in the spacetime
fabric. These ripples are disturbances, and they tend to stretch out and also compress the fabric of space. Imagine our bowling ball being pushed around on
the stretched cloth. It will cause the cloth to distort, sending out ripples.
These are the Gravitational waves. These waves are what Einstein predicted a
hundred years ago. He went on to lament that they may never be detected or may
not even exist.</span></div>
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJF1xmGgyOGIz8dEW-FNwXvvm7viSJ7MRWZkbDgFTUKmzZkQM-J_LlkWjG-XoOvkbiEISVzliTi8mwO4U2g2M0WEoKyjqKlVMwNo2hDtJ6ZrdcW4Gp4ar-7REIC0Z13nztqwfZIjZ2Ldiz/s1600/ripplesci.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="177" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJF1xmGgyOGIz8dEW-FNwXvvm7viSJ7MRWZkbDgFTUKmzZkQM-J_LlkWjG-XoOvkbiEISVzliTi8mwO4U2g2M0WEoKyjqKlVMwNo2hDtJ6ZrdcW4Gp4ar-7REIC0Z13nztqwfZIjZ2Ldiz/s320/ripplesci.jpg" width="320" /></a></td>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"> (Fig e: Ripples caused by a stone are an example) (Fig f: Distortion in space time by a large mass- the gravitational waves.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">That however didn't
stop our brilliant physicists. They went ahead adamantly, searching for the
waves and a hundred years after the prediction, discovered them.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now the
waves emitted are generally too small to be ever detected or even felt. When a giant
star moves, it sends out gravitational waves which stretches out and compresses
the universe. In essence, you and I have been stretched out and compressed many, many
times, but we have never felt it because the effect is astronomically small.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">For a wave
large enough to be measured, the size of the bodies must be relatively huge. If
two giant blackholes came near each other and got trapped in each other’s
gravitational fields, they should spiral towards each other they should distort
spacetime and generate gravitational waves moving away from each other, and
these should be significantly more detectable than waves emitted by singular
bodies. This is exactly what happened on September 14</span><span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;">th</span><span style="font-size: 12pt;"> 2015. <o:p></o:p></span></span><span style="font-size: 16px; line-height: 17.12px;">But first, scientists built LIGO (Lie-go)</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;"><br /></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">LIGO (Lie-go),
Laser Interferometer Gravitational waves Observatory, was built to measure gravitational
waves. It does so by detecting and measuring the distortions in spacetime
caused by gravitational waves. Here's how it works:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">LIGO is an L
shaped detector, with both arms of the L exactly equal in length (Fig g). A laser beam
is split and sent in two directions, within the arms. They travel precisely the same
distance within the long vacuum tubes, are reflected off mirrors at the extremes and sent
back to the starting point where they combine (Fig h). The light waves are made to
exactly line up so that they cancel each other out on reaching back and nothing is read on the photodetector.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwCI1zf-eT1hJXxFqIAorfFOdNbkRgr1TfhsBC9QaigSdReSrDLSM4H4WbWQuwLLq3t7kHj9hLimvwOeMmyPnJmx3dGBZ3KJ2C5b2naeJ0wFB6keaDfyV1C8xgWrzQi0iRz1qCupWKaU7/s1600/Ligo+real.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwCI1zf-eT1hJXxFqIAorfFOdNbkRgr1TfhsBC9QaigSdReSrDLSM4H4WbWQuwLLq3t7kHj9hLimvwOeMmyPnJmx3dGBZ3KJ2C5b2naeJ0wFB6keaDfyV1C8xgWrzQi0iRz1qCupWKaU7/s1600/Ligo+real.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">(Fig g: LIGO Hanford Observatory)</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHg4oF0IhEJJI1WeRvIR9Ahb8Wy9TDBOuvVAFE1ezSiuu80kh6-iwQuZmS2kocpRF6g9p6myhCp339Qyl1m0SvUnqllYd5h6_EkYyx8mZxoMsw3v5w_bbag08gA3VRkKk18m5lmfgDO8L/s1600/Ligo.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSHg4oF0IhEJJI1WeRvIR9Ahb8Wy9TDBOuvVAFE1ezSiuu80kh6-iwQuZmS2kocpRF6g9p6myhCp339Qyl1m0SvUnqllYd5h6_EkYyx8mZxoMsw3v5w_bbag08gA3VRkKk18m5lmfgDO8L/s1600/Ligo.png" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="line-height: 17.12px;"> <span style="font-size: x-small;"> (Fig h: How LIGO Works)</span></span></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">Now when a gravitational
wave passes through Earth, it stretches Earth and everything in her in one
direction and compresses in another direction. This changes the distance between LIGOs arms(image below) and in turn will cause the light waves to no longer line up, and now we will
have a signal read in the detector. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">A signal read in the photodetector would mean something caused a disturbance in LIGOs arms. If there were no natural disturbances, for example earthquakes or other such causes, it would mean the disturbance was due to an invisible force, namely the gravitational waves.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Because the
detector is extremely sensitive to even the most minute disturbances, 2
identical LIGOs were built on opposite sides of the United States, and for a
signal detected to be considered as gravitational waves, both LIGOs must detect
a reading of the same magnitude at the same time.</span><br />
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<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHslLQy-FYcRvEYPnoXzI052oVQsIqk33CAn8gylCEH8rlgfNF2ss57Q-3CHY1bkbyMf8vpZuX42ASeptBxiwfb_pbZ2qkyv31h_qb5gh_hSUwkeBAUQdUIeIV_uEzAIGil2JJS0rpN9I-/s1600/light+waves+in+sync.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHslLQy-FYcRvEYPnoXzI052oVQsIqk33CAn8gylCEH8rlgfNF2ss57Q-3CHY1bkbyMf8vpZuX42ASeptBxiwfb_pbZ2qkyv31h_qb5gh_hSUwkeBAUQdUIeIV_uEzAIGil2JJS0rpN9I-/s320/light+waves+in+sync.png" width="320" /></a></td>
<td><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi23CAlJhKvWogNxdRwA4vOi8lddC678BEmZCNeWusm9hywSY77lepKNFOY52gifZ7MPUfiw1SltR4cIrJ8lCXDYkLqqxrw7IRubRWVNuAVSt67jrVRzKUhTgk4pzvbbq6qK05YpAhPLHWv/s1600/no+sync.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi23CAlJhKvWogNxdRwA4vOi8lddC678BEmZCNeWusm9hywSY77lepKNFOY52gifZ7MPUfiw1SltR4cIrJ8lCXDYkLqqxrw7IRubRWVNuAVSt67jrVRzKUhTgk4pzvbbq6qK05YpAhPLHWv/s320/no+sync.png" width="320" /></a></td> </tr>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;">A: LIGO arms equal. B and C: LIGO arms Light Waves in Sync Light waves out of Sync </span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;">distorted in length by gravitational waves</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">What happened
on September 14th</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> 2015 was a thing of beauty. Imagine two giant
black holes, oblivious to the other, travelling through space. They come scarily
close to each other and get trapped in each other’s gravitational pull. They
spiral towards each other, spinning at great speeds, getting pulled towards the epicentre </span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">and end up combining, sending ripples through the universe. The
universe is alive, it is a living organism bustling with activity.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZoIGdIqhzmVET8CtB9ki-7c2ureSZkn-u3TBIS7ATHtJFhhgXlvVDl8dlM4tbj_MSTmriTLTQwLT-gfXT4sifiYjmUhXE0rjC5HThXoFwK6-c3gpurFvUj4-OpaYec3Dh9_pixJzqbkj/s1600/blackhole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZZoIGdIqhzmVET8CtB9ki-7c2ureSZkn-u3TBIS7ATHtJFhhgXlvVDl8dlM4tbj_MSTmriTLTQwLT-gfXT4sifiYjmUhXE0rjC5HThXoFwK6-c3gpurFvUj4-OpaYec3Dh9_pixJzqbkj/s640/blackhole.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;">These waves
were detected by LIGO and after months of data analysis, on February 11</span><span style="font-size: 13.3333px; line-height: 14.2667px;">th</span><span style="font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%;"> 2016, scientists announced the discovery they made was gravitational waves. It is and will be a monumental step forward in the understanding of our universe.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Just to give you a sense of it's implications, imagine the Radio Waves. Since their discovery, they have opened a whole new method of communication for us. Something that is invisible to the naked eye is the backbone of today's method of communication. Gravitational Waves, the same way, will open up a whole new possibility for mankind. They will give us new insight and deeper understanding of the universe and it's origins.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">A round of applause to the never faltering persistence of humankind.</span></div>
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-23917499048810866982016-01-23T02:56:00.000+05:302017-01-09T02:24:05.168+05:30The Promiscuous Cupid<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<span style="color: #7f6000;">It's good to be amongst friends. They were a tight gang, these fellows, willing to die for the other, but that's what 16 years of togetherness does to us emotional creatures. Stories flowed effortlessly, as did the beer. Rick enjoyed being with these men, for in their company he felt true friendship. The discussion was buoyant, ever so lightly steering to the Woman on the next table. She was one of five, but in his eyes, in his dreamy wishful eyes, she was one in a million. Never had a woman walked by in the simplest white T and a pair of faded blue jeans, and looked so precious. There's always something about a woman whose locks brush, oh so lightly against her cheeks, that makes you want to love her endlessly. He had to talk to her, for those luscious lips parting to speak could only make the sweetest of melodies. His intentions were noble, there were no perversive thoughts. He wanted them to share their souls and become one with the universe. There was only the slightest complication, he had a fiancé, nursing a fever and waiting for him at home. She had laid out a feast for his friends and him, despite the mind numbing headache she had, and he was torn between this kind hearted angel and the enchanting soul spirit in front of her. <i>"Who is faithful in todays world?"</i> one friend argued, <i>"Look at that body!"</i> commented the other. He wasn't listening. He was going to talk to her.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #38761d;">Chloe liked going to the mall. There was something about the endless, randomly sprawled out stores that excited her. She had symptoms of the flu but there's no cure like holding a Chanel handbag and parading in front of mirrors. She felt instantly healed. Jesus must've sent these bags to heal the world she thought, and immediately regretted the thought, for Chloe was a devout Christian and took blasphemy quite seriously. She was raised by two strict Catholic parents and schooled by stern priests and nuns. Reverence was in her blood. She had a long list of groceries to buy so she started off towards the "Food" section, and just before she exited her favourite store, the salesman cornered her. <i>"Ma'am that bag you were holding, It won't look nice on anyone else now that you've held it" </i>he coyed. Is he hitting on me? she wondered. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, in fact now that she stopped and took a look at him, she saw he was exceptionally good looking. He seemed younger than her. The way his chest bulged told her he worked out, and there didn't seem to be an ounce of fat on him. Something about a well chiselled body turned her on. But that was not it, he had a handsome face, short cropped brown hair, a well defined jaw line, a sharp nose, and piercing blue eyes. She wanted to drown in those eyes. <i>"You will manage to convince another woman to buy it I'm sure"</i> she flirted. <i>"Oh I know I will, but no woman could do justice to that bag."</i> he reciprocated. <i>"And why is that?"</i> Chloe questioned. <i>"Because I haven't seen a woman as heavenly as you in my life"</i> he said, and in a swift motion he took her hand in his and walked her back into the store. She felt a million emotions course her body. Never had a man held her hand without her permission before. She was too sophisticated to let such barbarism occur, but when this man did, she felt exhilarated. She felt young. Then she remembered the man back home waiting for her, soon to be her husband. She remembered her promise to him that the ring on her finger symbolized. She remembered her Christian up bringing. She felt guilty for the feelings she felt. She had to get out of there before she did something to jeopardize her relationship. <i>"I have to go"</i> she lamented, half heartedly, pulled her hand free and began walking away.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cc0000;">Karen had always adored David Bowie. She had heard every single one of his songs, and heroes was her absolute favourite, partly because she had lost her virginity to it, and partly because, well it's a brilliant song. And today he had died. She didn't know him personally of course, but her soul grieved as if he were a part of her.<i>"We're not letting you cry in your room tonight Kar"</i> her friend said over the phone. <i>"We're taking you out tonight. A vodka and cranberry is what you need"</i>. Karen was too exhausted to argue, and frankly, she knew it would be futile. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her ensemble couldn't get simpler: A plain white T and a pair of faded blue jeans. Despite the redness under her eyes, an ode to Bowie, she looked pretty. Her long locks constantly fell from behind her ears on to her face, and only added to her beauty. She had big brown eyes, the kind puppies do, and her slender figure only made you want to protect her. They met at their usual hangout, and the usual waiter greeted them obliviously. In between the drinks, the talk and Bowie reminiscence, she saw him. He instantly looked away, but little did he know, like all men don't, she had spotted him gazing her way minutes ago. She wasn't looking for a hook up, she was too distraught for that. Besides, she had a boy friend she was irrevocably in love with since the last 4 years. But this man, there was just something. His eyes, they revealed his soul, and it was pure. He looked at her with pure admiration and nothing else, and that made her blush. Many men courted her over the years but she had a strong resolve and no intentions of cheating. And then he stood, and walked towards her. In that split second she had decided, she was going to give him a fair chance to woo her and the consequences drained out of her mind.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #351c75;">Jasper was extraordinarily good looking, and he knew it. In fact, his looks, coupled with his boyish charm, were what helped him breeze through life. Everything came easy to Jasper. Or so the world believed. No one really knew the torment that went on in his head. When he was at the bar, he laughed and flirted effortlessly, buying drinks for pretty ladies, but nobody knew the toil his body went through to earn those few bucks. And now he worked at a Hand bag store at the mall, some Chanel or whatever, he didn't care. He earned a meagre salary, but his gift, his looks, always pulled in the women and he sold bags like they were cupcakes, helping him draw a fat commission. He hardly cared for the women, for his heart was with a woman he completely treasured, and today he had to get back home early to comfort her for she had lost an icon she considered family. He never really understood how people could imprint on celebrities, but he never dared ask. Just when he was thinking of how to lift her mood later on tonight, she walked in, with the graceful charm of an angel. He was completely mesmerised by her bouncy bob cut hair, her little button nose, her alluring wide mouth and her perfectly adorable dimples. He was drawn to her short stature in a way no woman or object ever had. She seemed out of place in this fancy expensive store, and he saw her eyes yearn for the bag she held in her hands. He saw her face contort into the look of disappointment an empty wallet conjures. He would've bought the store for her, if he wasn't broke himself. Then she started to leave, and the thought of never seeing her again made his heart ache. He manoeuvred his way to the entrance of the store, stopped right in front of her, gave his most winning smile, and turned on the charm. Just as he was walking her in, she seemed to panic, pulled her hand out of his and began to rush out.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #7f6000;">Rick woke up to the sound of chirping birds and laughing children, the sounds he had gotten used to hearing on a Sunday morning in the suburbs. He looked to his left to a sight he wasn't used to. He recalled the previous night. He resolved to walk up and talk to the lovely girl, but he managed only a few steps before the angel on his right shoulder commanded him to stop and go home to the woman he had promised to do right by. The devil on his left shoulder put up a brave fight but Rick eventually turned around, told his friends he wasn't feeling too well and walked out. He felt light, the way you feel when you walk away from an undeniably alluring mistake. He got home, but Chloe wasn't there. There were a few times in the past when she'd take a taxi to meet her folks a few blocks away and decide to stay the night and he assumed she had done just that. He didn't want to disturb the elderly couple at this hour with a phone call so he went to bed. As he came back to the present, he looked again at his left. Where the warm body of his loving finance usually lay, today was empty bed space. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #38761d;">Chloe woke up to the sound of a flaring siren. She rubbed her eyes, coming out of the daze and looked around. She saw the yellow chipping paint on the walls and the wildly rotating fan above, hanging from the stained ceiling. The room had just a bed, a table, and a door to what was presumably a bathroom, but she wasn't going to check. Jasper stood near the window in his boxers, pulling on a Bristol and looking at the busy street outside the motel. He looked at her and smiled. Memories flooded in. She began walking out of the store, but in a moment of weakness she turned and handed him a slip of paper, with her number on it. Jasper had decided not to call, and went home that evening to his love, Karen. She wasn't home, there was instead a note on the fridge simply saying <i>"Going out for drinks, see you soon"</i>. He watched the news for a while, had a few beers and curiosity eventually got the best of him. He picked up the phone and called the number he so desperately wanted to get rid of, and here he was.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #cc0000;">Karen woke up to a hangover. Last night was a blur, but she remembered the man she was eager to collide with who at the very last moment turned and walked away. Now that she was sober, she was relieved he did. She picked up her phone and called Jasper. He didn't answer. There were empty beer bottles on the kitchen counter so she knew had come home, but he wasn't there when she had tumbled in. She would try his number again later. She needed a shower, but first, she walked to the music system and hit play. Sweet nectar instantly filled the room.</span><br />
<br />
<i><span style="color: #7f6000;">"I, I will be King</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #7f6000;">And you, you will be Queen</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #7f6000;">Though nothing, will drive them away</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #7f6000;">We can beat them, just for one day</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #7f6000;">We can be heroes, just for one day......"</span></i><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-78299760055481311302016-01-10T03:33:00.003+05:302017-01-09T02:25:58.495+05:30We need a Revolution! Time to usher in the era of Free Love ♥<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
While the term "Free Love" has been widely associated with promiscuity and used as an excuse for multiple sexual partners, it is in fact the freedom for two consenting individuals to indulge in all forms of love without the nosy involvement of society, the government, the church or their neighbours cat. The emphasis here is on the dismemberment of unwanted regulation that the world imposes on two people in love.<br />
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I am at my local bar, perched on the bar stool sipping a beer and having a lively conversation with the bartender. Sometimes you need to disengage from all that is normal, devoid yourself of everyone you consider dear and have a beer by yourself, with interspersed discussions with the bartender of course(trust me they have the most colourful stories to tell). A woman walks up to the bar, a very beautiful creature this lady, luscious black hair that evokes a sense of mischief, piercing hazel eyes that I'm enchanted by, a petite yet full body wrapped in a spectacular black dress, and at this point I'm probably in love. she wears a sash around her proclaiming to the world "Bride to be". I'm slapped back to reality. Oh what the hell, a bride to be is nothing close to actually being the bride I conclude, pacifying myself, and offer to buy her a drink. Just a congratulatory one of course. In the brief conversation that ensues, I learn that she is 26, and like all women who reach the threshold of 26, she is obligated to get married to whoever her pompous aunt deems fit regardless of what direction the girl herself sees promising. "<i>Is it easy? Committing yourself in body and soul to a stranger?</i>" I ask. "<i>It's not like I have experience!</i>" she giggles, nonchalantly. "<i>But you know, everyone grows old and everyone needs a shoulder so what the heck, I might as well.</i>" she adds. "<i>Sounds more like your purchasing a crutch than courting a lover!</i>" I respond. Her friends butt in at this point and pull her to the dance floor, an area my two left feet would never dare intrude. She departs leaving behind a comforting scent of strawberries and the horrid image of a woman whose dreams, aspirations and passions have been murdered by a trend the society imposes on us as fitting. I admire her courage and ability to put up a happy demeanour. After all, she has no say in it. The part that really struck me however, was something she said about having a lover she had to end ties with because the moon was 10 degrees to the left of the line that passes through the centres of Jupiter and Saturn the day he was born. This is what got me thinking of the era of "Free Love"<br />
<br />
Free Love sprung up after humanity had been through one of its largest acts of self destruction: world war 2, and amidst fights in Vietnam and against racial segregation. It prevailed through the mid 60s and the early 70s, It flourished with the Beatles, Dylan, Hendrix, The Stones(all of whom I consider true musicians, unlike that noise that passes on for music these days, but hey, that's just my opinion). It professed making love instead of war, it protested against mindless violence, it brought people closer and opened minds to a world reigned by love and not a ruler. The era, like every other, had its vices of course, but you can go read about that elsewhere.<br />
<br />
It was a time when the governing laws dictated that married woman had but one task: to give birth to and raise children. Premarital sex was a sin, unmarried individuals living together was punishable. Homosexuality was more criminal than murder. Sounds more like I'm describing the present, and yet, this was the 60s. We have not come a long way as a race. And then the counterculture happened. It was a cry against everything that was wrong with the society as a whole. It was a fight against prevailing cultural norms, with love as the weapon of choice. Civil rights movements, Gay liberalisation, Women's rights, Free Speech, De-colourization, and the coup de grace, the sexual revolution. All of a sudden people were out in the fields, on the roads, in their hippie clothes singing the Beatles and embracing the magic that happens when sexual beings collide. No judgement, no repercussions.<br />
<br />
"Last call" yells the bartender, bringing me back to the present. I look around, my muse is no where to be seen. I'm looking for a tissue to write down the last few lingering thoughts. 7 pints usually brings about a sense of amnesia in me.<br />
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Free Love like the 60s is too much to ask for a society as messed up as ours. How did we get so wrapped up in religious and political propaganda that we forgot to embrace what is nourishment for our souls, Love! When did marriage become a transaction? When did sex become taboo? We need to realise that everything we consider a rule, is in fact conceptual. What the society imposes on us, its rights and wrongs, its 10 step program for a moral life, is just abstract. The moral code is nothing but views a group of supercilious people had a thousand years ago. They are being passed on for generations as the right way to live. If we, as a generation, align our minds and actions, and change course towards a society that lets women go out at night without the fear of being molested, lets gay men hold hands at the mall, lets a man choose a wife without referring the stars, lets children decide whom they want to play with irrespective of colour, I think in a few years we would have changed the social norms for the better. Together, as a collective mind, we have the power to re-calibrate the moral compass and change the beliefs and conventions of the community, the nation and one day the world.<br />
<br />
I'm in bed contemplating a possible hang over. The scent of strawberries fills my minds sense of smell. She will most probably be married tomorrow, but she may have started a revolution.<br />
<br />
The next time you have an opportunity to give or receive love, in any of it's magnificent forms, embrace it. Always be open to the possibility of abundant love.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3388957915033307801.post-13081842684237367212016-01-07T23:32:00.000+05:302017-01-09T02:29:24.069+05:30Is GOD a Programmer? Is creation an algorithm?<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">"<i>All men are pigs!!</i>" she yells as she walks towards the
front door, passing in between me and the television, completely obstructing my
view for a second, which was more than enough for Firestorm69 to land a
headshot ending my 7-0 winning streak. At this point I should've been running
after her, instead, the cogs of my brain went into overdrive, analysing the
most used euphemism since Jesus left veronica to die on the cross: "All
men are pigs".<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin: 0in;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Are all men
really, deep down, at the core of our beings, stripped of all façades that
society, religion and every other propagandist cloaks us with, just the
same?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Scientifically
speaking, yes. We're just a bag of quarks(possibly just vibrating strings if
Sheldon Cooper finally proves the string theory). The question is, if
everything in this universe is made up a few basic building blocks, for
simplicity let me say atoms, did the supreme almighty just write a universally
accepted simple algorithm that these atoms followed into building the universe
that we know?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Let me explain.
You use your computer to play games, yes? These games at their core, are an
algorithm of codes on a platform. Codes are broken down to 1s and 0s by a
compiler, which is what the processor understands. So, in essence, the vast
universe of a game with all it's perfectly rendered graphics and simulated near
life experience, is nothing but an ocean of a buzzilion 1s and 0s. Now I can
write an algorithm to manipulate these 1s and 0s into arranging themselves in
whatever design I see fit, and the algorithm could be designed to alter and
adapt to what the user feels is their need.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">Did the supreme
almighty, the universal cosmic energy, or simply, God, just write an algorithm
to position atoms in place to simulate the universe that we now see before our
eyes?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"> What if this
is what God did-<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><b>{<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><b>Start;<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><b>Variable:
“New_being”, “Man”, “Woman”;<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><b>Man=”Hunter”,
“Provider”;<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><b>Woman=”Nurturer”,
“life vessel”;<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><b>New_being=random(Man,Woman);<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><b>Stop;<o:p></o:p></b></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><b>}</b><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;">And then sat back
and watched the world being populated….. Plausible scenario?<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 13.5pt;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: 18px;">There have been patterns seen and observed all over the world, throughout history suggesting arbitrary events are not anonymous, random and co-incidental, but actually repetitive and predictable.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18px;">The <b>"Golden Ratio"</b>. It is a number denoted by the Greek symbol <b>phi (</b></span><span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>φ)</b> and equals 1.61803.... The ratio of numbers that amount to this value is called the "Divine Proportion". What makes this exact number unique? Artists have used this ratio in paintings, specifically being the distance between eyes, ratios of the length to the width of the face and so on, as this proportion seems to be aesthetically pleasing. Mathematicians have used the ratio to solve , define and prove numerous equations and theorems. Even investors seem to be using this ratio to predict the financial markets! The most intriguing occurrence of the Golden ration however, is in the very nature around us. Scholars dating back to the 15th century have found the Ratio manifesting itself in the measurement of trees, leaves, even human arteries and veins! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;">Could this be a co-incidence? Or the result of a well written algorithm?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18px;">I read Dan Browns "Inferno" a while ago. The book was a creation of fiction but the message it spread was eerily accurate. Mother earth and humans have been suffering the wrath of earthquakes,, famines, cyclones poverty and many more natural and man made disasters, giving rise to innumerable losses. These seem like such diseases, no? Turns out, what we have been perceiving to be diseases are but just symptoms of the underlying fatal disease: Over Population. Dan Brown beautifully observes that throughout history, while man has let this disease spread unchecked, mother nature hasn't. Nature seems to try it's best to stop this disease from spreading, in the only way it knows how: Natural disasters. Have you ever noticed, how at regular intervals we encounter natural disasters and epidemics , which seem to annihilate a chunk of the population? Tsunamis? SARS? Earthquakes? Ebola?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;">Is it a co-incidence or just a few lines in a master algorithm?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>{</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>Start ;</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>Variable: “Population”, “Natural_Disaster”,”Population_Threshold”;</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>Population_Threshold=10,000,000;</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>Natural_disaster=”earthquake”, “Tsunami”, “Plague”;</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>If (Population>Population_Threshold)</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>{</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>Random(Natural_disaster);</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>Population_Threshold=(Population_Threshold*10);</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>}</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>Stop ;</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><b>}</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: 18px;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;">I guess we will never know. But it’s fascinating don’t you think? The beauty is, there are signs everywhere. There are patterns all around us. We just need to observe, pay attention and deduce. Once found, who knows, they could be used as cheats?</span><br />
<span style="font-size: 18px;"> </span><br />
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Ansonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00659262253750375156noreply@blogger.com5