Advice from cartoons

I hope this post will be progressively updated because I’m a cartoon enthusiast. I came across this beautiful article written by Bill Watterson, the creator of Calvin and Hobbes. The article inspires one to reach out to long cherished hobbies that are close to the heart. One thing that specifically stuck with me was the part where he says that one can get better at writing or painting only by writing and painting. In the end, we advance only through practice. Here’s the link to the amazing article that is now driving me to dedicate time to my hobbies and work on them irrespective of what people may think:


Trust that breaks you down

I’ve only ever thought that distrust is the only thing that throws people off course. That it would be a lack of trust in someone or by someone in me that would lead to a deeper introspection of myself and my relationships. But, it seems that deep rooted trust in the goodness of a person can also lead to deep learning about ourselves. I was at my native recently and when a topic of doubt came up, I found my uncle and mom vouching for me in ways I had not even dreamt about. I have always looked to myself only in doubt and have never, even for a single moment thought that anyone would be able to just me as well as that. When a single statement can throw you off course and spiral down a path of confusion, if you can find strong hands and warm words lifting you up from the depths that you have allowed yourself to fall, know that this person knows you inside out. Even though an argument may stand that, of course its your mom and like God Himself, how would it be difficult to bare ourselves to Her. But all those who have surrendered their everything to God know that to do so in front of humans, even if they be your own parents is not an easy task. I cannot thank her directly. I don’t know if she will ever come upon a chance to read my blog. But I cannot express the immense amount of gratefulness that comes over me as I see another human understand this pitiful life and the morals it tries to uphold. For that I thank Her and her.

The Ugly Duckling

After the introspection from the FEA inspire I’ve now come back to college to follow that passionate love affair I once had with the 2D mesh of an SRM. Nowhere, of course things are different. My classmates who have always been there whenever I needed them are no longer with me. I’m reminded of a line from a poem ‘Now, the banquet halls are empty’. Ok, the line is wrong. I’ve located the poem and I’ll be adding the same at the end of my ramblings int his page. A beautiful piece by Thomas Moore. I’ve only just started on the work of design and as always my mind is shrieking about what should be the next logical step. It’s been a little more than a week since I joined back at SSN. The entire last week was spent in a sort of depressive silence. I felt that all of a sudden I had become an ugly duckling. Quite literally so. I had gained a lot of weight and hair looked worse than ever. The icing on the cake was that I had developed a severe allergy owing to bed bugs in my hostel room and that just showed up as big red pimples all over my face. The change in weather from Bangalore to Chennai is no easy task. For everyone who knows both places know that its literally self torture to come to Chennai from Bangalore in summer. Being Asian and given my age, the task at hand for all my relatives seems to be my marriage. And here I am, the ugly duckling, now fixated on trying to fix things before a match gets fixed ;).  In case I do transform into a swan I’ll let you know 🙂

Oft, in the Stilly Night

Oft, in the stilly night,
Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood’s years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone,
Now dimm’d and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere slumber’s chain hath bound me,
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
When I remember all
The friends, so link’d together,
I’ve seen around me fall,
Like leaves in wintry weather;
I feel like one
Who treads alone
Some banquet-hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled,
Whose garlands dead,
And all but he departed!
Thus, in the stilly night,
Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,
Sad memory brings the light
Of other days around me.
Thomas Moore