Beauty, Gouge out the glass eyes

Beauty.

It's a very subjective topic.

Beauty, as they say, is in the eye of the beholder. Looking beautiful has a different meaning for everyone. However, we the people, are stuck in this never ending quest to find beauty.

To capture the elusive aura that is perfection. It is one thing to be concerned about your looks, however it is a totally separate matter to obsess over the opinions of other people.

We destroy ourselves in an innate effort to look good, to be perfect.

Layers on top of layers - Mascara, blush, eyeliner, eyeshadow, lipstick, lip balm... it goes on and on.

Vanity is not found only on the runway.

No.

Vanity is the guy standing in front of a mirror, taking hours to fix his tie, telling himself it is perfect.

Vanity is the teen, spending an eternity on his hair, telling himself it is perfect.

Vanity manifests in our reflection, after all, self depreciation is an art form rarely practiced.

Tears, giggles, blood sweat and ink. The pictures say it all. Our world is truly a dark one. Nothing ever actually fades away, nor does it leave a mark permanent enough. We burn all the good things to warm ourselves on the embers.

Asphyxiation.

Silent suffocation under layers and layers of false promise while anguished souls try to clamber out. THAT is society in a nutshell. Mechanical humans who love you when the limelight is shining. The moment it turns to someone else, "poof" go your dreams.

You are an untouchable.

Being different is like signing your own death warrant. We are young and we love it. We contort our limbs, twist and turn to be able to fit into the box society wants us in. It is the era of irony. We humans proudly wear the labels our peers assign to us, all the while chanting "I'm unique, I'm unique"

It's a funny world. Funnier so, when placed on a paper platter to be dissected by millions of people per day, who laugh it off and shrug, "That can't be me, I'm unique, I'm unique"

Niko Von Monroe - A Biography Of Sorts

Being a Gemini, alters to my personality come pretty easily to me. It is pretty simple to separate my thoughts and feelings from one mode and switch into third person view, to see my situation objectively... To be able to write as an outsider. This entry, previously on Facebook, came from a darker time, almost as if Jekyll wrote about Hyde.

Enjoy!

Sshh!

Shut up.

Can you hear it? This is the sound of the walls coming down. Taptap tapping away on a keyboard.

Isolation is a guilty pleasure. He types from a different perspective so that he can distance himself from the pain.

A thousand voices.

A thousand faces.

He feels it you know. He isn't made of Teflon. An empty carcass, bloated and lacerated. Drained of vitality.

Devoid of emotions.

Shell shock

Lived by the book. Pinpricks across the skin. Razor sharp kisses across his heart.

We understand. You are not to blame, even as you pushed him towards the precipice while he lay there broken.

It was clearly his fault.

Provocation

Red nightmares of a blinding white insanity. He writes while the world around him crumbles and falls and he is buried in the chasm created by the relentless taptaptap of the keyboard. It takes one to know one.

A bullet in the brain. Aching to escape. Mumblings through a wired jaw.

Speak up or the crowd won't hear you.

They need answers and you are the one scapegoat.

He hides his flaws.

Overkills.

Overcompensates.

He hates himself for being unique.

Masochist

Acid green fetish doll. Painted up nice and pretty on the guillotine. The blade drops and there is silence.

The roaring mass got what it wanted.

Blood.

Demons feast till the end of time and martyrs are created by unfortunate accidents. The brave ones fall and their remains are the gruesome trophies of a time gone by. A battle well fought.

Blood and guts for the winners and the losers lick their wounds with salt. Shallow opinions thrown at survivors while the corpses of the fallen draw admirers like flies.

Irony

Plastic blue suffocation till the everlasting Christ bleeds dry on the cross. The sin grows back and he screams for temporary solace. Smooth porcelain talent like flawless marble.

But an esteem easier to crack than candied glass.

Silver streaks in the thunderous clouds, because he rains on his parade.

Confidence like butterflies, it comes and goes.

He is an incubus, for gods that haven't quite left us yet. Raised in a putrid womb of metal so sterile, air so toxic that he gave up and decimated his desire to survive.

"Singled out in a hateful crowd, over and over again"

He screams while the desecration of matters holy and pure commences. The harness can only support him for so long. After that, it becomes his undoing. The leather bites into the skin while the metal sears his soul.

A broken toy, with artificial intelligence and a taste for self-destruction. Incarcerated. Evacuated. Left to die. He picks himself up and brushes it off;

Only to resume the taptaptap on the keyboard, till the eternal flame consumes him on the cross.

Quick update

Okay, so for who ever is reading this, my ONE reader out there, I am pleased to say that I am ready to start updating my blog weekly :D

Yeah, and I'm gonna be promoting it like crap on all the social networking sites too! :D

Plus, I am shifting all the notes I wrote on Fb, to here :D

Cyber-Generation

So my blog entries come to me at the oddest of all times. Most of the times, the reason my poor little blog gets this neglected is because I tend to use the pen more often than the keyboard.

I guess, even for all my self proclaimed love of technology, the harsh coldness the cyber world creeps me out a bit too.

Where thoughts and emotions are just data, typed out and ready to send; where feelings become lost in the constant updates of other's lives; where invasion of privacy is just a calculated click away. This is the reality we live in. The cyber generation. Wires and signals replacing our bloodstream and our hearts are like a higher power, a few keystrokes from us.

Netspeak. Texting. Chatting. Instant messaging.

Gone are those days where you came to the playground to show off your new toys or eagerly looked forward to meeting old friends catch up.

Gone are the days where your personality mattered.

Now we just create a new one, sitting behind the screen. A personality reflected by flashy graphics, cheap glittery images and the same generic sayings repeated over and over.

We are unique, just like EVERYBODY else.

We are the Cyber Generation. If you aren't like us, you must obviously be a nobody.

OF COURSE you are different, OF COURSE you are something new.

So is everybody else, join the queue buster.

This attitude scares me. How ready we are to forgo our emotions in exchange of this digital fortress we build around ourselves. E-Thugs. Everyone is tough online. Everybody has an opinion and it is the ONLY right one. Mob mentality, connected by millions of servers across the world. We are sheep with no leader, walking on the same path over and over till our heads spin.

Headed in no direction, millions of people connected to a God Module called the internet.

Connected in this web of information spun over decades yet disjointed as ever.

ThisIsUsNow.

Pen on paper, I compose my feelings, I gather my thoughts and begin CREATING something that is wholeheartedly ME, in it's essence, not something mass produced and repetitive designed to keep the trolls at bay while I construct barriers.

This is the world we live in and it is ironical how we snap at others to "Get a life" whereas our own lives are mere moments in time controlled by the flashing, blinking screens of the computers WE built.

Slaves to our own creations.

ThisIsUsNow.

Till next time.

Ciao!

T

Change (and evil waitresses)

Change is a very major issue in most people's lives. Change, as we all know, may be good, like when instead of spilling hot coffee on you, the waitress actually brings it to you safe and sound. Or it may be bad, like when said waitress ALSO drops your Spanish omlette into your lap. So what I am basically trying to say is,

A) Change comes in different forms

and B) You should probably find a new diner coz the waitress at your regular place hates you.

2010 was a year that brought a LOT of changes for me, and I am still coping with most of them. I feel that change is like a mean bully, who will punch you in the balls when you least expect it and will proceed to kick mud in your face while you are splayed on the ground in agony. Charming really.

But then, I am of the school of thought that every silver lining has a cloud, and I will immediately look for negatives in the most innocuous situations, so don't take my word for it.

I would love to be a happy person, but I just don't have the time for it. I'm far too busy being negative, sorry.

But getting back to the topic, Change, is a necessary evil, and even when it seems like too much is changing, we should always accept it, instead of fighting against it.

Just imagine what would have happened if the earlier cavemen had refused to be susceptible to change?

We'd still be sitting in a damp hole somewhere, without electricity, and I love my electronics too much to even CONSIDER that alternative. (I don't care if the radiation is frying my brain, as long as I can tell my 500 virtual "friends" how I am upgrading my virtual "farm", I'm happy.)

I have always believed that the journey itself plays a big part how much you enjoy your destination. So even if we have to withstand some hardships, it is all forgiven if it makes us a better person at the end of the day.

Unless you have a mental breakdown and try to drink toilet cleaner

-_-

In which case you are better off in a damp cave with no electronics because you were too fragile to handle the new v2.5 of Farmville anyways.

I apologize, I tend to stray off topic. To sum everything up, change is neither good nor bad. It is like a fly that drops into your food and ruins everything. It never MEANT to, either ways the food IS ruined. Change should be embraced and faced head on, because with change comes the promise of better things to come

Ciao,

Taksh

Bam! And it struck again.....

Have you noticed that the inspiration to do stuff strikes at the WORST possible times?

I for one am no stranger to that hard fact of life. It is like God hates me, and punishes me by sending strokes of absolute genius my way at the worst possible time. Kind of like a seizure when you are in the toilet going poo. (Okay, not exactly like that, but you catch my drift.)

Every single time, that I have been inspired to write something, something that has come out to be pretty amazing actually, I was "inspired" at the worst possible time.

For example, my song. The first song that I ever wrote, entitled "Soundtrack" I wrote it a night before my final Social Studies exam. Go figure. And if I do say so myself, the song turned out pretty well, lyrics wise. The same goes for countless other stories of mine, as well as articles and drawings.

I think this has something to do with the basic human escapist tendency we all have inside of us. We tend to substitute all tiresome, horrible jobs with other tasks that we consider less tiresome.

I've seen examples of this so many times in real life.

Like, before an exam when told to study by my Mom, my sister will lounge around in her room for some while. She'll look at her desk (which is normally so dirty and cluttered that you could probably hide ELEPHANTS in that mess... [I suspect she hides dead bodies in there]) and spend the next four hours cleaning it.

And it will be spotless.

Then when Mom asks "Oh, did you study?

"No mom, but look I cleaned my table!"

"Umm... you have an EXAM tomorrow."

"I know... but look at my table!"

"Didn't you study ANYTHING?"

"God Mom, what's your problem?? I FINALLY cleaned my desk coz you were after my life for it, and now all of a sudden its not good enough for you??!!? MAKE UP YOUR MIND!"

And then she'll storm off, leaving behind a sparkling desk and a befuddled old mother.

Diva.

No, but seriously, we all do it, and most of us don't even realize it. We channel all our anxieties, our frustrations about a particular event into other fields. Sometimes, the result can be beautiful pieces of art. I bet Shakespeare really had to clean up his house or something but he avoided it by using his writing as an excuse.

Procrastination is universal, but only a few people are intelligent enough to pass it of as doing something productive. As a teenager, it is very important to channel your energy into something productive. It may not necessarily mean studying, because I feel that it is up to each and every person to find where their own interests lie. The way I see it, taking some time off your schoolwork to write or draw is all right because you do need a break; and lets face it, we teens are about as attentive goldfish. I'll be surprised if most of the people read till the end of this post.

Like right now, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be studying for a test or something instead of writing, but what can I do, I'm "Inspired" right now....

Till next time

Ciao,

Taksh

A short rambling on Time, coz I don't have enough of it.

Time. You have it and you don't. It is quite a slippery thing, like an old, cold fish. Slimy, really. (I disgusted myself a bit) It is something my dad never seems to have when we have to discuss my deteriorating sham of an allowance; and something my Mom seems to have too much of when we have to discuss my less than stellar marks. But i digress.

I am so exhausted and I feel that life in general is to blame. A kid's life is SO hectic and parents take it for granted. I am amazed by their level of ignorance. (But we must forgive them for their brain cells are fried from being so ancient) It really rubs me the wrong way when an adult says "Yeah, these are the best days of your life, enjoy them!"

Yeah sure, between the schools and the tuitions and the homework and exams, I have ALL the time in the world don't I?

Have you wondered why so many records are set by grown ups? Its because they have so much free time. Even I could learn to balance twenty spinning plates or stick clips on my face, if I had the Time!!!

Seriously, 24 hours a day is not enough. If I have to choose between watching T.V. for an hour or study I would obviously plonk my ass on the couch to stare at my beloved screen. Who would waste their precious little time of the day reminding themselves of school?? Certainly not me.

What astounds me is how pushy parents can sometimes be. "Why've you locked your room?" "Who were you talking to?" "Why were you talking for so long?"

"Yes Mom, I am actually a secret member of the Taliban and was talking to my contact in Russia. We are planning to blow the world up. Alhaa Hu Akbar, infidel"

Mom – “Did you just call me an infidel?”

“Whoops”

And then I get beat up for shooting off my mouth.

What to parents expect? I am sorry I have a life OUTSIDE the four vandalized, scratched, spat-upon and defiled walls of my school. It is astounding to see how breezily one adult can tell you to "Enjoy yourself" and a second later, they turn around and yell at you "WHEN ARE YOU GONNA STUDY??? DO YOU WANNA FAIL??"

Oh crap. I'm sorry, did you forget to take your pills again?

Parents are the most bi-polar beings on this planet. And whether you love yours or not, you KNOW it is true.

I think kids (especially me) are targets of a giant world over conspiracy of time manipulation.

Here is how I have noticed my life go so far -

-Wake up, brush teeth, go to school... then - "Oh, it's dinner time already? Eh, where'd the day go??"

"HAPPY NEW YEAR TAKSH!!"

"Wait, What??? New Year??? Wasn't it my birthday yesterday?? Where did the YEAR go??"

(My birthday is in May, just in case you didn't know.)

So to sum this entry up (which by the way I am writing in the middle of the night) I personally feel that Father Time has most probably turned into a chronic drunkard, and because of his alcohol addled mind he makes time go really fast [Birthdays, Parties] or time go REALLY slow [Exams, being roasted by cannibals, etc.]

So yeah, those were my mindless ramblings. And I will DEFINITELY update sooner, if I just had the TIME!

Ciao,

Taksh