Philo-Logical

We are unable to fundamentally tolerate people abiding by a different philosophy.  Philosophy is now a commodity, instead of being an intensely private and personal thing as it should be.

   Philosophy has more become a quotation to show off knowledge.  There are various traditional sources and streams of philosophy.  Most, I believe have been pronounced by depressed and/or depressing Germans   Yes Germans who, lets be honest, have coined terms like Schadenfraude.  The feeling of sadistic pleasure derived from the misery of others.  Well, at least they were honest enough to acknowledge the phenomenon.  Germans produced so many philosophers and psychological pioneers, so, stands to reason they must have been a pretty screwed up lot.  After all, necessity is the mother of invention.

But back to the rant.  Philosophies are more like movies and songs to us.  We find one, a rare one and can't wait to thrust it on others.  And we are shocked, truly, deeply, to the molten-lava-of- pretentious-Facebook-sharing-outrage-dripping core of ourselves, when others do not have the taste for it.  And like these cultural offerings, philosophies are often accepted by people when they think it is a rare discovery made by them, on their very own - like some quasi-holy grail that they have tripped upon.

And for some strange reason, quite possibly because it is viewed more as a cultural commodity rather than a personal coda, people have set and fixed notion of what consists of philosophy and what are the sources and fonts of philosophical wisdom.  Quite ironic, given the basis of philosophy is to question things fundamentally, and often just mentally (a few times out loud too, at the risk of being labelled crazy by crazy people).

So this is a story of how we lose track of the plot, till the point that you view life as an Akshay Kumar movie, with no plot, keep your thinking hats aside and copy paste cliches and templates into sequences to stitch your own twisted philosophy, "borrowed", quite originally, from a few fixed sources.  (to be honest, that last line might have been more of an angry indictment of Akshay Kumar movies than philosophical tastes, but so what!!).  Seeking philosophy is a true quest, not a novelty treasure hunt with fixed rules and made up limits.  This is basically me philosophizing on the tenets of philosophy and I want you to abide by them.  No questions asked.

Contextually Speaking

we borrow a lot of classic references from our pop cultures.  And we invariably use and often over use them.  we try to know enough to quote.  We don't care about the context or the whole of it.  Just a copy pasted piece of reference is fine for us.


  Out of context is a term that is thrown around a lot these days.  It is a convenient shield for people who spurt things in the spur of the moment.  From a particular standpoint, every quote, when repeated is out of context.  For everything is said in moments, and beyond moments, from the standard transitional viewpoint of us lowly humans (as opposed to the holistic view points of the aliens in Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse 5 and the Heptapods in Ted Chiang's The Story of Your Life), things happen in moments that lead to other moments.  So once the moment has passed, the reference is out of context.

  But even realistically, we are quite fond of twisting things to meet our needs.  And references fall prey to the same phenomenon.  We quote and misquote and gleefully so.  Even when no translation is required, our references end up lost in translation.  WE just like the snippets,the snappy one liners and not the entire story before or after it.  We want that one pine tree to take home for Christmas, and we don't give a damn about the beauty of the rest of the forest.

  It actually matches how we view most things, this perspective.  Take people for example.  We take a few observable cliches and certain quirks and create a template in our mind for said human being.  That is all he/she is to us, a template of quirks and observed instances, often taken out of context to create a quick view file of the person.  Inaccurate, but convenient  And it helps show off the fact that we know that other person.  Same with references, you see.

  A funny thing about references, much like our philosophies, we are particular about our sources.  We need to keep up appearances and seem cultured and well read.  So we can only refer to classics or universally acclaimed sources, or little known cult references that we feel are obscure enough to appear awe inspiring.  If one must quote sources which their peers tell them are to be panned or ridiculed, it must be done ironically.  Those are the rules of the game and thou shalt abide by them.  Because that's what it is isn't it? A game of oneupmanship.

Another repercussion, a catastrophic one is that future generations will have no culture.  No new original material to quote.  Because everything these days is in reference to something else already.  All jokes are inside jokes, the kind where you need to know the reference to get the punchline.  All sitcoms quote older classic sitcoms/movies.  In a bid to be smart and catchy, they are becoming unmemorable and largely unquotable.  Its a lot like trying to bring balance to the Force by misusing and abusing the Force (yes, yes, Star Wars reference and inside joke).

Life of Pi - Movie Musings

      We are a funny lot, us humans.  What we take for granted, what we have had all our lives, we find laughable when presented in any manner but offhandedly and casually.  Thrust in our faces earnestly, we laugh at it.  Maybe, just maybe, it is to hide our own embarrassment at how we have corrupted this thing that we had all along, or how we never really connected to it as well as we thought we did.

  The thing in question, in this case of course, is faith.  Life of Pi is about faith, about God.  The audience that I saw it with identified more with the atheist father and the rigid, narrow religiousness of the family rather than the questioned, tested, layered faith of the protagonist.  His earnestness was laughed at.

  A lot of people, were also disappointed at what they said was a "lack of story".  Most of us still approach movies like we approached books and comics in our adolescence and childhood.  With the expectation of a crackling, satisfying story.  As we grow, we must realize this one fundamental fact.  Stories are a means to an end.  Stories are told to get a point across.  They are explorations of themes, beliefs, philosophies with a coherent narrative to bind them together.

  Life of Pi, explores and understands faith through its protagonist.  It questions and reaffirms this faith.  It helps that the protagonist is a calm, optimistic person, capable of seeing the positives in the situation, dwelling on not what is lost, but what was prevented from being lost.  The movie is set as a story within a story and given the open ended structure incorporating elements of imagination, delusion, visions, escapism and of course, exotic zoo animals, the visuals become extremely important.  And what visuals they are.  the 3-D here is more than gimmicky.  It serves to illustrate more than just a bullet fired at you or the action set pieces, incorporating destruction and mayhem of epic proportions.  This is 3-D exploring calmness and serenity, the richness of marine life.  The ocean becomes a living, breathing being, almost a character unto itself in the hands of Ang Lee and his masterful use of 3-D.


As the story draws to its conclusion, those looking for thrills and twists and outlandish set pieces might feel a little underwhelmed, but for those who are gripped by the layers of the narrative and caught up in the philosophical debate of it all, will be thrilled by the twist at the end.  Without giving anything away, the moment Irrfan's character says " And so it goes with God", you are hit with a sudden realization, stunning in its simplicity.  A realization poetic and ironic, for it is aimed at the thrillseekers, who will possibly miss the whole point.

Riding High into Nowhere

Train rides are always different for me.  For most people, its about the thrill of the journey, the possibility of meeting new people, making friends and reaching the destination.  For me, the paramount things are as follows:  Getting a good seat, getting sufficient space to stow the luggage, not encountering any brash supremely extrovert people who become a nag, and most importantly, not encountering someone who would ask me for my seat.  Basically, all I want is to be comfortable and left to my own devices.  And I do mean devices - Laptop, phone, music player.  And my books.

  So I board the train, heading home for a brief sabbatical from work (work did end up haunting me via email, but that is a different rant for a different blog post perhaps).  As the train proceeds, the couple across catch my attention (Yes, I tend to shun human contact and I may be an antisocial, sociopathic/sociopathetic mess, but nothing fascinates me as much as observing human behaviour).  There is the token Business book (Corporate Chanakya) on the seat and She seems to be nagging Him about a startup venture he is planning.  Apparently both have jobs and are planning to do something to break out of the monotony of being a corporate slave.  In short - every inch of their being screams MBA.  He has been working for some NGO developning online computer tutorials, and wants to branch out to the Hindi Speaking belt as an online only medium for computer lessons.  He is reluctant speaking about it, as if opening up the box of debate will get his fragile dream to disappear like a delicate butterfly/will o the wisp.  She is having a blast speaking, and monosyllabic responses is all that need be dropped to keep her keyed up.  She keeps dropping her (probably) newly learnt jargon - Wow Factor, niche market etc.  After a while, He excuses himself to go up and sleep.

  Meanwhile, I have, of course, settled in with a book.  But not to snugly of course.  Because wouldn't you know it - The man entitled to the berth upstairs has ensconced himself comfortably on the lower berth (mine) at the cushiest spot - the one by the window where you can rest your back, have access to the table, enjoy the view and have the reading light just above you.  Killjoy I think to myself, mildly irritated.  I have no idea.  So said encroacher then strikes up a conversation with the blabbermouth half of the aforementioned couple, previously and also henceforth to be referred to as She (Not in a devotional/awe struck Rider Haggard sense, but because I am too lazy to conjure up any other adjective laden nickname).  He seems to be an MBA too.  Same college to boot - Symbiosis.  1987 batch Mr. Encroacher.  2004 batch She.  And then she is blabbering about hubby dearest's business venture.  Asking for tips and opinions.  He is an E-Marketer you see.  Co-owns a start up.  And he has been called up for expert advice.  He is apparently the kind of person who loves the sound of his own voice and diction.  Using 10 words where 4 would suffice, slowly savouring each syllable before delivering it, as if he were some self proclaimed wine connesseiur, pronouncing judgement at a Paris garden terrace bistro (Sudden Horrific Realisation:  Is that me with my writing, writing just to see my words typed out, not really making much sense, rambling on and on for my benefit alone, contributing to nothing but electronic media related Carbon Footprints?).  

   Talk veers to Flipkart, how they changed the system, how small places now have access to deliveries of previously unprocureable goodies and books, their internal problems, their wait for Amazon to buy them out, their losses etc.  Everygood thing that paves way for others must bleed red.  Netscape, older search engines, the initial social networking sites (my theory, not theirs, though they would probably subscribe to it).  Then he talks about how he combines his HR and Marketing acumen, the concept of Service Recovery and satisfying the customer.  Just apologise and give them what he wants.  Create a (here we go again) Wow Factor.  And I suddenly realise, it is people like them that create the monster of Consumer Delight.  My mind wanders back to Services Marketing and the radical Prof. Ananth Ram.  This is how monsters are created I feel.  It doesn't just instill a wow factor.  It creates unrealistic expectations.  Expectations that companies will have to bleed to keep up with.  Inherently loss making propositions in the long run.  Give them free goodies one day and they wont come back sweetly as loyal customers, pretending nothing happened.  Because something did happen.  They discovered a goose with a golden egg.  So they will come back, with legions of their own.  This time with greater expectations, lesser patience, demanding to be satisfied, because human wants have no limits.  A line must be drawn somewhere.  But not according to Le Encroacher.  He would have dissatisfied customers getting exchange freebies at the drop of an exchange token from an overly burdened counter.  A heavy Tweeter himself, he talks about the power of social media, the power to bring down companies and rattle CEO's.  He only emphasizes the good of course.  Not the blatant and unchecked use of this power by people to create ill informed jabs, trolls and the blatant misuse of this power to harass just because they can.

   Talk has now gone on to how he took a leap of faith and started his own start up.  His firm delivers E Marketing courses to MBA institutes, with he backing of IIM-A.  Other institutes recoil a bit at this mention, he says, because they all know they are woefully inadequate compared to IIM-A.  You can see the glow of pride at his startup's association with IIM-A.  I believe, deep down, he has satiated his need to be associated with IIM-A to get rid of his own inadequacies at having graduated from a lesser School.  You can see it in his face.  His wife, an investment banker turned artist, who sells expensive art and murals, and now teaches yoga as well.  The happy cushy life.  Daughter is a swimming champion, and of course brilliant at studies.  All brilliant, disciplined, happy people.  Therefore, nothing that I can relate to.  He talks about his penchant for conversations and friendships on a train.  At this point, I realize how I shun all such conversation.  They are contributers, creating conversation.  I am the eternal parasite.  Absorbing and contributing nothing.  And I realize, I am a parasite in every aspect.  I have only ever consumed, rarely created.  And when I have created, it is itself insignificant, in-consumable.  More relations are discovered, mutual set of parents at the same organisation, the Bhopal connection.

  At some point, the snugly snoring Mr. Hubby, the beleagured He has been woken up to be made to partake in the conversation (something terribly grammatically wrong with the construction I conjured back there, but I am too lazy to probe and edit).  He is now being given suggestions on his start up by Le Encroacher.  This tie up, that Logo, this font, that layout of the website.  Deals and Collaborations.  The sand castle is conjured up like some modern, corporate monolith, looming on the horizon, as the work pile keeps lessening and the payload keeps increasing.  Classic case of chicken coop ready and the biryani rice boiling, before the eggs have even been hatched.  At some point Le Encroacher has lived up to his nickname and asked me to switch seats.  Post dinner, I clamber up and ruminate at how delusions have permeated our modern society.  I am also quite jealous at how happy and successful smart people are, and how I will never be one of those.  But mostly musing on the delusions.  Honestly.  And all the while, the fire of unrealistic expectations and delusional golden chickens are stoked by not just a normal optimism, but a marketing optimism.  And so the fire swirls.  And the fire rises (hee hee hee, Batman Reference).

 To Create a Mark or Leave a Scar....

Personalizations, pissing contests, leaving and making a mark on this world. We need to feel validated.  We need to feel that we matter.  That we are affecting or effecting.  I have perhaps ranted to this effect before.  The interesting (only to me perhaps) part is how we react to that need.  At a certain stage, we stop absorbing freely.  We reach a point of selective absorption.  We stop taking things in and are obsessed more with giving our inputs to everything.  A twisted version, if you will, of Kennedy's "ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country and all that balderdash......  But its not the country in this case.  Its anything and everything that we feel matters.  And we feel we will have gained importance by association in affecting that which we feel is of some import in our world.  It is like some kind of bizzaro world, where, while having the decent notion that you can only take pride in a creation if you had some role to play in it, you take it to an absurd level of extreme.  A level where you need to feel that pride, so you feel the need to play some, small, demented role in the process.  A mutation in the process of your own doing, that deludes you into believing that you have affected a change - for the better. 


  Ego, then, becomes the only fuel needed.  The delusion of dangerous, unchecked optimism becomes a catalyst to this process at times.  A convenient loop hole is of course found before this ritualistic act of mark making is commenced.  A loophole where credit for success can come seeping through and yet the barrage and deluge of failure is filtered out.  How convenient.  The twisted version of modern capitalism blended with the Frankeinstein's version of Socialism.  Create (whatever that may be) and be part of the collective so that you can never be singled out (except of course, when you want to be).

Book This One

You can devour books, but movies devour you.  books are like the friends that you converse with.  Movies are the condescending gyaan givers of this world.  Its a version that you take it or leave it.  No middle ground, often literally, when the middle is confusing and the climax bemusing.  They consume you, haunt your imagination in a very fixed and narrow way.  Don't get me wrong, books haunt you too.  But you imagine more vividly.  You are free.  Images, thoughts, words can inspire you in a very different way.  Imagination is captivating and yet can set you free.  Words have a way of doing both.  They light the path.  They show you the way.  And yet they let you set your pace, change directions, take in he scenery.  Movies can leave you exhausted.  Thrilled, but exhausted.  Elated, adrenaline pumping, or endorphins rushing, but ultimately exhausted.  And this isn't a books vs movies based on those books comparison. 

 No thats a whole different mess for another day.  Movies feel a tad more manipulative.  They seem more artificial.  The imagination is more controlled than in control.  Inspiration  is not something that serves you up on a platter.  That is why the most complete heroes, the most powerful ones never really inspire us.  They take us places, do not light the way.  And so, they leave us awestruck.  Flawed people and flawed situations inspire us.  Only if it is relatable can it inspire or motivate us.  And flaws are what we relate to.  (Schadenfraude after all.  Misery in others makes us happy.  You want Jerry triumphant.  But only after 15 minutes of torment by Tom that begins post the lion roar)  Achievable targets these its called in the newfangled sales jargon I suppose.  You need the guiding lights/parameters to tell you where to go, how much effor to put in.  So we get to throw in our two cents to it, add and build upon it and that gives us direction.  And that is truly what sets us free. Not truth.  Yeah, they say the truth will set u free.  Set you adrift in a leaky boat with no oars more like.  Truth is overrated.  Facts are what you want.  But I digress.  Again.  Like a movie that is lost its plot.  Thats another thing with books.  They can go into sub plots and sub sub plots and its never awkward.  Unlike now.  Where I have digressed for the umpteenth time.  Where was I then?  Awkkkkkwaarrrrddd.

 Oh yes,  We are force fed things these days.  Readymade quotes and philosophies.  Daily doses of humor.  A funny this, an absurd that, an inside joke, a dash of sarcasm.  All controlled and relatable and in exhausting quantities.  You laugh, you forget, you move on.  You aren't inspired to create yourself.  A wisecrack on a status or a halfhearted tweet at most.  Creativity is lost in the process.  To overwhelmed we are.  And underwhelmed at some level too.  At the same time.  Paradox really.  Like one of those guns blazing, satisfyingly gory, rousing music filled war themed movies that are supposed to be "anti-war movies.  So I say we go back to good old books.  All kinds of books.  And we stop in the middle, somewhere where its not a pre-planned popcorn break (with double charge coke and bad nachos to boot), and we let our thoughts soar.  And come back when we want to.  Its all a bit like the give a man a fish vs teach him to fish type thingy.  

And lastly, each book you read gives you a plethora of new thoughts.  Deep, whimsical, complex, intricate, funny, twisted, askew, unique thoughts that can be mixed and matched and connected to form your own opinions, philosophies.  Movies cannot be connected.  Not always.  Sometimes not even when they are sequels. 

 Though some books do deserve to be in the same category as direct to dvd sequels.  Chetan Bhagat fans, I am looking at you.  What inspires you to dream and create and what inspires you to daydream.  Which would you choose?  I knew it.  You don't learn.  You don't choose idiots.  You need a bit of both.  

Sometimes its nice to let go of control and go with the flow.  Its a high.  The trick is not to become an alcoholic.  (Disclaimer:  The shabby author of this shoddy work does not practice or encourage the practice of alcohol consumption :D )

No Two Ways About It

Life is not a circle.  Nor is it a ball (of yarn?).  It vaccilates between one end to the other.  We reach a pinnacle, then we regress back.  Good to bad, one extreme to the other, Indulgent to spartan.  Life is a goshdarned duality.  Yin - Yang, Heads and Tails.  Simplest of joys and the grandest of annoyances make up our day.  Life is a mental patient.  It is bipolar.  Full circle, What goes around comes around, circle of life, thisosphere and thatosphere, stratosphereical craposphere.  All of it could be just something to console ourselves.  To assure ourselves of a higher purpose.  If not for the individual then as a collective.  But what if none of it is true.  No purpose.  Everything we know, believe, think is akin to popcorn philosophies, made up to keep our simple intellect from becoming too inquisitive.

We shuttle around, calling it phases, maturity, revised thinking, seeing the light.  Oh yeah, we don't admit it - peer pressure and what will people say kindsa stuff.  I'm talking about whats going on in your head.  What you're thinking and mulling over and secretly believing.  Those things - yeah, the voices in your head.  The cacophony asking you to reverse the tapes.  Communist to capitalist, back to communist.  Philosophies, ideas and thoughts are like food after all.  Stuff yourself sick with one, and then stay away from it really long and then given enough time, the cravings begin again.  

So we get embarrassed when we look back on the follies of our youth (fine, you're all still young, but I am an old man, so I can look back at my "youth").  Then you are disillusioned and jaded and pine for the good ol' days and voila.... back to square one.  In our heads, good and evil aren't processes or lifestyle choices.  They are opposing end points.  From some central vague, obscure reference, we define good and evil as equally eccentric, vaguely opposing points.  Duality as in everything else.  Each tries to play his twisted version of Superman, surpassing the state of man and yet then laments and pines for the life of a beast.  Because, that was once to be had, but no more.  Nietzsche would kill me if he knew I wrote these words, but then I feel on some level he too was pretending to be his own version of Superman.

We desperately want to be heading somewhere, have some meaning.  So its an eventful circle.  That gives it more meaning i suppose.  As opposed to commuting from point A to B. And back again.  Even if you think of it as a roller coaster ride, that's just a twisted way of getting to another point.  And back.  Given the twisted,devious nature of the universe, I wouldn't be surprised if it was a roller coaster after all.  One of the universe's little jokes I suppose.  Fair enough, it could do with a laugh or two.  Moderation too is just a myth I believe.  Just another of the extremities we keep going to, excessiveness itself being the other extremity.   That's my call I guess.  Time to board the shuttle. Time to roll and coast, and then coast and roll again.

                      These Small Wonders

We all want to cultivate an image.  Not caring about an image is one of the most carefully cultivated images around.  I wouldn't wanna come off as classless, pedestrian, blaise, cheesy.  Unless the cheesiness is supposed to be ironical.  Hipster style.  Yeah, you know what I am talking about.  You wish you didn't.  Hell, I wish I didn't.  But we all know it.  So we have special friends for special times and occassions (I swear, if anyone so much as mentions that ridiculous Airtel jingle, I will go apeshit).  We are who we are with each one, but there is hardly ever an opportunity to deposit all your eggs in one basket.  It looks mean, it sounds mean, confiding in one, hanging out with the other, frivolity with the third, discussing hobbies with the fourth, dabbling in the "dark arts" (tsk, i meant dark humour, meanness, backbiting, bitching etc people.  Get your minds out of the gutter you call your social networking wall stream) with someone else.  

  But you love each aspect and each moment.  In general, you dare not come off as anything except one whos been there, done that, outgrown that.  He who knoweth all.  Ironic isn't it.  Ignorance is bliss, blissful contentment is something that should be evident to all, yet this is one bliss that we want to hide.  We need to appear as smart alecs, wise ass know it alls.  We desperately hide our guilty pleasures to create a more restrained refined self.  

And the beautiful irony is, that wherever you are, whoever you meet, the other person is doing the exact same thing.  Its like Mr. and Mrs. Smith without the gorgeous, chiselled actors, stylized violence and the fancy guns.  OK, so its nothing like Mr. and Mrs. Smith but you get the point.  Its all about the games we play, the social contract and what not.  Except, apparently no one read it through before signing on the dotted line.  

  And when you do get the chance to break free, to indulge into the guilty pleasures, it feels awesome.  The lewd songs, the superficially popcornesque movies, the downright crass, break-your-head-on-a-wall frustrating PJs where the inevitable grin escapes your lips even as you're beating your forehead.  Jay and me chatting the other day, talk about the paltry take home.  He hears mine and immediately quips - Hafta Chup Chaap Time to Time Pohochaa Dena Ghar Pe.   Almost before my mind has processed it, the retort is being typed by my fingers - Hafta Le Le Tu, But WEEKENDS Main Mere Paas Hi Rakhunga.  Crass.  Devoid of Meaning.  Lacking in tact, character or class.  But I'll be damned if I didn't have the biggest most retard like grin (oops, you're not supposed to use that word now.  It's politically incorrect) on my face.  And I bet it was likewise for him.

  

  Its ironic on another level too.  I just realised.  Being accepting, showing acceptance is a good thing.  The more you can tolerate and accept, the more magnanimous, mature you are.  That makes you the bigger person.  But in our heads, it makes more sense to come across as selective, disapproving people with only the most refined pursuits on our minds.  Soon you lose track of what you like and what you hate and what you pretend to hate and what you like ironically, whats real and whats a guilty pleasure, why you need to feel guilty in the first place.  You seal your fate when you look down your nose.  Its the ironies, the sarcasms, the snarkiness and the take downs I tell you.  We are so hung up in having fun at the expense of things, we leave no room to like them later.  Our hypocrisy leads us to hide our likes and dislikes, lest we come across as HYPOCRITES.  Like I said.  Ironic.

Once upon a time, in the beginning, a long time ago

Intentions are the lost children of our age.  Outcomes are the prodigy.  Side effect modulation is an important source of drug discovery I read the other day (to my credit, I was valiantly suppressing yawns while doing so, and not enjoying reading this stuff one bit).  So basically something else morphed and metamorphosed its way into an entirely different thing and now we run with that towards some other goal.  What results is what matters.  Oooh, look, social media can be used for voyeurism.  Look, we can use music to inflict Justin Beiber on these poor unsuspecting folk.  Who cares what the purpose or the root of the matter is.  What matters is how it can be trolled and LOLed about right?  Its more like a chai and suttah with friends....good for a laugh, a share,  and a few comments around it. Its a relay race, except when the baton is passed, its a whole new race in a whole new direction.  


There are versions now.  No basic truth.  Its all a big stack and the cornerstones are forgotten.  No kidding, my room is a friggin seven star haven of antiseptic, sober color, fragrant and temperature controlled neatness compared to the mess I am talking about.  Am I being an obsessive compulsive here?  Isn't there a need to know the thread of events in order to make sense? Yes, sense is overrated you say.  But I say, staying in senses is overrated.  Making sense on the other hand, is the sensible not senile sensationalism.


   The best of intentions are lost and people move to quick to pick up the threads.  Who cares about what was really intended, take things as they are and move onto the next bit of gimmick/entertainment.  If the end is all that matters, why would we care? we do work of course. we have our motivations - petty, myopic, insignificant-even-in-the-scheme-of-our-own-little-universe, motivations to do things.  But make no mistake.  You and I, we stopped caring a long time ago.  We do not hold onto things.  We let go.  Too easily.  We are Frankensteins who do not even bother to go in search of our monsters (Funny how people always refer to the monster as Frankenstein, not the doctor).  There is a profusion of happenings and goings on in the world.  A constant assault on our senses, guaranteed to overload our systems and humble our meagre attention spans.  Life is one diversion after another, a series of digressions, a bunch of non sequiturs clubbed together in a desperate attempt to form some semblance of coherence and meaning.  Against this tide, it only makes sense to go with the flow, not fight the current.  Hansel and Gretel are in the maze and the ball of yarn never unravelled.  It trails along behind them and they are forever lost (mix of analogies here, but really, I prefer a ball of string over breadcrumbs and maze seemed more appropriate than the woods)  John Lennon, you stand corrected.  Life these days, is what happens when you're busy not giving a shit.

Incomplete Picture, but in Hi Def You See...

What if all you understand, 

Could fit into the center of our hand, 

Then you found it wasn't you, 

Who held the sum of everything you knew, 

Chris Cornell, Soundgarden - Live to Rise

Niche, specialised, segmented, segregated.  Call it what you want, and justify it how you want.  Its not convenience.  Naah, thats what you tell and sell yourself to help you snooze your alarm a little more comfortably.  Its pure elitism.  The sum may be greater than the whole.  Hence the summation should never be reached.  There was a time when the information you wielded was power.  Not anymore.  The disinformation that you spread, or the ignorance that others suffer is your source of power.  You can't let the people figure it out.  Whether its the big corporations and governments indulgent in some Ludlumesque (yeah, people use Shakespearean and Kafkaesque all the time, but how many can boast of using the term Ludlumesque huh??? ) conspiracy, or specialists trying to assert their expertise, or niche skilled people, justifying their banal existence.

   We each live in our little universes, happily content as the masters of our own surroundings.  We have picked and chosen what sense we can make, to create our own patchwork quilt of a fortress, seeking solitude by burying our heads in a la ostrich.  We are the emperors of our own twisted wonderland, the kings of babel.  And we are content- as long as we reign as kings.  Jack-off at all trades, be the king of one.We are programmed to not bite off more than we can chew.  So what we chew is what we delude ourselves to believe the extent of our bite.  In turn, we have learnt to keep information to ourselves.  Not share, not let on, be furtive, secretive -  in short, contribute to the obscurity.  

So who knows what now?  Does anyone have a complete picture?  Is one even required?  Can anyone read the matrix, or is it just a jumble of numbers to everyone?  Maybe we are all happy in this monstrosity of a maze that we have built around ourselves.  Even he who has the largest chunk still only has a chunk.  We want to wallow in the ignorance with our shiny little Chunk-E-Cheese, claiming faux superiority over the other rats.  Its too cozy inside the rabbit hole (or hobbit hole for LOTR fans, and yes, I changed the analogy from rats to rabbits, because I'm that weird) to venture out and connect the dots.

The problem?  You can't build your megacity with an incomplete lego set.  Someone or the other always has a few pieces/blocks that you need.  And then they hold control over you.  Merely because you were too lazy to complete your set.  Because oh, our kingdoms are trade dependent.  Not self sufficient.  What power you choose to wield over others, others wish to wield over you.  You read up your Ludlums, but sooner or later, someone is gonna come along and make a Wodehousean reference or quote Nietzche.  Then what you gonna do?