An Evening of Interest (a.k.a the randomest thing you'll read in a while)

Those of you who know me, know that I am a socially inept monument to awkwardness. I know this too. For the longest period, I have lived happily with the fact that the set of me, and the set of society, do not intersect. At all. I've been at peace.

Then recently, I decided that I should try to change this. I should go 'out of my comfort zone' and meet the world. During the period when I was thinking this, I happened to read a notice proclaiming 'Free Salsa Lesson' in the college bus. If you are of average intellect or above, you should know what happened next.

Common sense demands that someone born with approximately pi left feet should not attempt dances. And yet, philosophical me won this battle against logical me. I decided to attend this lesson. The turnout? Approximately the same number of guys and girls. Reassuringly, the guys looked as clumsy as I am. Worryingly, the girls didn't.

Round 1: the basic steps of Salsa
Paired up with a French girl
Considering how simple the basic steps of Salsa are, I would have to be an absolute cretin to do this wrong. Thankfully I didn't do this wrong.

Round 2: the first variations
Paired up with another French girl
This pairing was not so bad at all. We got along reasonably well, and the dancing wasn't a disaster.

Round 3: intermediate-1
Paired up with an American girl
Now this girl was very excited about the whole dance thing. We agreed on the sequence of steps we would do, and then we did them. This was exceptional (by my abysmal standards). Barely a foot wrong, and fairly smooth.

Round 4: intermediate-2
Paired up with another American girl
This girl was a legit trained dancer. Unlike the other American, she wouldn't agree on what steps to do. She kept telling me, 'In Salsa, the male must lead'. I kept telling her that I was a rank newbie, and that I couldn't spontaneously decide what to do. Result - pointless hand holding, and stepping forward and back for the length of the song.

Round 5: advanced
Paired up with the last of the three French girls
This pairing was an unmitigated disaster. Like the American before her, she insisted that I 'lead' the dance. I was failing so hard at this point trying to figure out which intermediate variations I wanted to 'lead' her into, that I was getting the basic footing wrong.

Poor women. Must've had the worst dance partner of their lives. Anyhow, I'd learnt something socially useful. It was time to head home. I stepped out of the student centre to be greeted by pouring rain. I stopped at the nearest bus stop. After five minutes, a girl unexpectedly plonks her bag next to me,
"Keep a watch on that till I get back"
"Uhm, okay."
Two minutes later, she returns,
"Hi! Some rain huh?"
"Yeah..."
We begin to make polite small talk. Then, out of the blue, she starts discussing the geography of ancient Mesopotamia, and how it was between the Tigris and Euphrates. I have no idea how I even kept up this discussion, but I did. Then suddenly,
"PLEASE DON'T TELL ME YOU'RE WAITING FOR THE BUS!"
"Uhm, yeah, I am..."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! Buses don't come here after 6PM."
"Oh. I didn't know that. I guess I'll go to the bus stop on the opposite side of the campus then. Thanks, and b'bye!"
"Bye! Nice meeting you."

I walked in the rain to the next bus stop. In the bus stop, a grumpy man in a wheelchair stood beside a woman who I assumed was his wife. As I waited, an african-american (who I shall refer to hence forth as black, with zero negative connotations except the fact that it is shorter than african-american) joins us. The (white) guy in the wheelchair and the black man started arguing about something.

The bus arrived a few minutes later. The black man got into the bus. The lady followed. Then the grumpy man started telling the driver where he wanted to go. The driver (also black) politely told him that this bus would take approximately forever to take him where he wanted to go. The white guy started complaining about how he was a war veteran, and that that should stand for something. Bus driver didn't want to listen to him ranting, so he asked him to get on. At this point I realised that the white guy was very drunk, and the woman was not his wife.

Once in the bus, he sarcastically commented, 'It is so wonderful that this country has made such luxuries available to our guests.' (The bus was full of foreign students). He then continued to argue with the black man. He called the black guy over for a 'heart to heart' talk. Black guy retorted that he wasn't gay, and didn't want to sit next to him. After much argument, he finally agreed. Black guy wanted to avoid trouble, so he went and sat next to him, patted his shoulder, and said something to the effect of, 'Let it be man, why fight?'
But the white man wouldn't relent, "Don't touch me... I don't like being touched by your kind."
"Then why did you call me?"
"Because I like to talk to the darkness."

So, not only was he drunk, he was also a racist. He argued with the black guy for a bit, and then rudely said, "You're dismissed, go back to where you were."
The black guy went back. Now the white guy started telling the woman who I had thought to be his wife, about how great it was to be in the army. She was responding with an indifferent 'Uh-huh' to everything he said.

At this point, the bus driver was tired of his ranting, and said, "Sir, if you don't stop talking, I am going to call the police and have them drop you home."
"Thank you driver, that will not be necessary."
"That's what I thought."
"I would like to say one last thing."
There was a moment's silence, and in this silence, the white guy raised his hand, and shouted, "Give me liberty, or give me death!"

The bus driver absolutely lost it at this point. He stopped the bus, and got up to call the police. The white guy now started pleading about how he had asked for permission to say one last thing, and had not been denied by the bus driver. After much pleading, the driver calmed down, and continued to drive.

Realising that situation had now swung, the black guy started taunting the white guy, knowing that he wouldn't respond any more. Watching the white guy cursing under his breath and gesticulating was extremely funny. The bus driver was tired of their squabbling, and just kept driving. A few minutes later, the bus had arrived at my house, and so ended a memorable night in the USA.

It must be true...

if Einstein says so...

Weapon of mass STFU

Are you,
tired of windows fanboys screaming that windows is stable?
tired of linux fanboys screaming that linux is stabler?
tired of linux fanboys screaming that their OS is near impossible to break?

Do you just want them to STFU?The diligent folks working at Engineers - Very Insidious Ltd (E-VIL) have come up with just the product for you! We present for you, the Destructo Drive. Masterminded by the head of E-VIL, Dr. S.H. Ravan himself, this innocent looking usb drive guarantees a system crash on any OS.

Innocent looking Drive

Just plug it in, and get ready for the fanboys to be annihilated.

Destroyer of Worlds

Cake as a metophor for life

Just the other day, I was talking to VRD, and ended up saying that cake is a metaphor for life. It was said in jest, but come to think of it, it is true. This is because cake, like life, can be bitter, sweet, dry, awesome, horrible, cheesy, hard etc.

Like life, cake has a lot of variety. Cakes can be confusing, astounding, magnificent or boring.

Most importantly, like life...

... the cake is a lie!

Criminal Intent (or the lack of it)

I'm only in college. I still find the lack of criminal intent in the people around me appalling. Really. Just the other day, I was on a public computer in college, when enthu pointed out one entire folder lying on the desktop. A particular set of students had downloaded a set of documents that they would copy entirely for a project. I don't really have a problem with people copying projects off the internet. There are times when the spark of inspiration simply does not come. However, when you're doing something wrong, at least DO IT PROPERLY. How can you leave traces on a computer that is accessed by a large number of people? And on the desktop?

I'd almost forgotten about writing this post, until (new character, YAY!) Gen. L. Oblivious reminded me with a 'lack of criminal intent' incident of her own. Gen. L. Oblivious is properly known as General Lee Oblivious. Now that the introductions are out of the way, the incident:

Gen. Oblivious : I'm spooked even when I walk around college!!
greySith : lol wtf... What's to be afraid of in college?
Gen. Oblivious : oh theres plenty...
greySith : Name one realistic reason
Gen. Oblivious : The other day... I was going through a RANDOM guy's phone to choose a pattern for the department sweatshirt and the next picture was... no prizes for guessing... mine...
1) staring at the ceiling in the boring math lecture
2) at the cafe house with a disfigured mouth chewing on something
and three more like that
greySith :@
Gen. Oblivious : Felt like I was being watched by Big Brother...

Now, I'm not the sort who would take pics of women without them noticing just for the heck of it. But, if I had to do it (for a bet etc.) I really wouldn't have taken pics of the girl and then handed her my phone to look through some pics. How daft is that!?

Some of you might say that criminal intent is only needed by people who do things that are wrong. I tend to disagree. You're online now, reading my blog. The internet is an unsafe place. Very unsafe. It is ideal to leave as little trace of what you do online as possible. Whether or not it is happy information or incriminating information, information on the interwebs can be used against you. Criminal intent does not only mean covering up wrongdoing. I consider it to mean protecting any information from people who shouldn't have it. On the internet, as a certain cartoon character would say, 'be wawy wawy caweful'.

Note: Gen. Oblivious is not to be mistaken for Captain Oblivious. She far outranks him!

The world isn't ending...

... in 2012. I will quote the same sources that are running around in circles with their hair on fire, screaming 'aaaaaaaaaa', claiming we're all going to die in 2012.

The Large Hadron Collider will become fully operational sometime in 2010/2011. I am sure that there is much truth in the 2012 doomsday predictions, but I have similar faith the 'LHC-will-be-our-end' theory.

Therefore, since the world will asplode in 2010/2011, when the LHC creates an all-devouring mini black hole, there's no chance of doomsday being in 2012.

There simply won't be a world to asplode!

Pity the fool

Different things from the same night

Went out for a friend's birthday party. A couple of things happened over the course of the night that I'd like to write about...

#1 - Talking to a friend, Sa,
Sa: You've tasted most of the beer we drink.. what do you think?
Me: Meh... it's so bitter, why drink it?
Sa: See, it's not about bitter... It gives me a mild high, which I like. The bitter doesn't matter to me.
Me: But aren't there better tasting things to get a high with?
Sa: Such as what?
Me: Adrenaline for one... not that you get to taste it...
Sa: And how do you suppose I get adrenaline?
Me: Bikes... Doing crazy things on a bike really gets the adrenaline pumping
Sa: And yeah, you expect me to do crazy stuff on a Pep?
Me: *speechless*

Ah well, to each his own...

#2 - Having dinner,
A friend of the b'day boy (I don't know him directly (the friend, not the b'day boy)) was trying to squeeze a lemon onto some food,
H: What the hell man, no juice in this lemon...
Sa: Arre woh nimbu nahi, mazaak hai...
H (signalling a waiter) : Arre bhaiiya nimbu laana... mazaak nahin
*laughter all around*

Ha Ha

Growing up

Is the time it takes for the Birthday flag in your status register to go from:

1 - Yipeee!! Birthday time

to

0 - Heh, it's my birthday

to

x - Don't care

Of Embarrassing Things Heard and Read...

After a long series of posts devoid of any new characters or embarrassing stories, GreySith returns with more tales that will make you laugh (or cringe). So, here are our principal characters:
GreySith
Enthu
M (for lack of a better name)
Poo
and quickGan, in a guest appearance

The scene:
We're waiting for a bunch of people to finish writing articles that might get them entry into the college magazine. There's a topic still to be announced, and M, Poo, Enthu and I are discussing what that topic should be...
M walks off for a bit to answer a phone call or something...
Enthu: I have a great idea - scent of a woman!
Poo: (strange expression)
Me: Yes, but what do you want the women to write?
Poo: (little grin) section 377...
Enthu: Yeah man!
Me: Come on...
M returns at this point of time
M: So do we have a topic?
Enthu: Ye..ah
M: ?
Me: Enthu, let's not go there. Do you want me to tell her about the other topic you had in mind?
Enthu: No...!
Me: You want to go home nah?
Enthu: Err yeah...
M: (misunderstanding the situation) WHAT? You had 'Do you want to go home' as a topic? That's soo seedy. What a horrid pick-up line!
Enthu: No no no...
Me: No, No. I'll tell you
Enthu: NO! I'll start narrating embarrassing things you said...
Me: It was 'Women are like cell phones- as long as you press the right buttons, you'll be happy, but you press the wrong button, and you're disconnected'
M: (WTF expression on her face)
Poo: (laughing)
Me: Besides, what's the worst you could come up with... the GE silicon thing...
Enthu: Hell yeah!
Me: I'll tell them anyway... So I was in a student meeting, explaining how we sealed a particular joint... and we had used this chemical called GE silicon. I kinda forgot the name at the instant I was supposed to say it. I remembered that it was two letters... some two letters. I ended up saying 'KY'. (both the girls burst into laughter) I did correct it though...
Enthu: Yeah I remember that one... There were all these impressionable juniors, and they were noting down what he was saying. And he said 'KY gel', not just KY.
Everyone was laughing at that point.

Cut to a little later, when quickGan makes an appearance. We've just got all the entries and we're looking at them.
M: Look, there's a guy with an email id like tush.something@something.com
Enthu: Jaane do... strange ids people come up with.
M: Imagine how weird it would sound to tell someone that id.
Enthu: Never mind that, someone is going to tell him 'duude you've got a tush in your email'
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Enthu: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH
quickGan: I sorta missed the joke, what's going on?
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Enthu: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
quickGan: Arre explain the joke nah...
M: You know we're looking like retards with you two laughing like that...
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Enthu: HAHAHAHA... (looks at Poo and M) Look at them, they're completely stoned... HAHAHAHAHA
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA... my stomach hurts...
M: (probably disturbed by the sight of two guys laughing their guts out) Come on, we've got to go...
quickGan: (still confused) but why are you laughing so hard?
Poo: Stop already...
Me: Hahahahahaha
Enthu: Hahahahahahaha... 'you've got a... tush in your email...' hahahahahahaha

I have no idea how long we kept the (somewhat) annoyed M, confused quickGan and Poo waiting. But that was the hardest laugh I've had in long time. I hope you did too!

Gear Happy

The other day, I was in Camp, and noticed this guy who rode past at high revs in the first gear. My thoughts, in order, were:
'Poor sod. No one told him his bike has five gears'
'Or maybe no one told him where the shifter was'
'He might also have thought his pulsar was an automatic transmission bike'

I love the gearbox. A well designed gearbox ranks in the same category as digital watches and soap bubbles, when it comes to making people happy. People accuse me of using the gears too much, but god gave us the gearbox to use it! Over the past few months, I've practised a ton of gearbox skills, such as engine braking, cutting down brake use by 90%, seamless shifting etc. It's a lot of fun.

People who ride (or drive) ATs have no idea what they're missing out in a Manual. This post is probably a little random, but is serves a purpose. I want to pay homage to the guy who invented the gearbox (and God) for this priceless gift to mankind. Thank you.

Pastime

I have just realised that I have developed a silly pastime when I'm riding. I tend to aggressively overtake guys with their girlfriends pillion behind them to see if they will try to return the manoeuvre. Childish social experiment? Yes. Fun? Absolutely!

The render of the veils

It's the title of a horror story by Ramsey Campbell. Among the creepiest stories I've ever read. In synopsis, it's like this:
It's a rainy, gloomy night. Two men, looking for a taxi, decide to share the first one they find. During the taxi drive, they begin to discuss perspectives, and the thought that we do not truly see things for what they are. We see things as we have been trained to see them. One of the men is a worshipper of Daoloth, the render of the veils. Daoloth is the deity who renders the veils that keep humans from seeing what truly is. This man is about to perform a ritual to Daoloth, so Daoloth may remove the veils.
The other enthusiastically agrees and they head to the first's house to perform the ritual. The next morning, police finds both the men dead. They also find a very creepy audio recording of what transpired that night.

I read this story a long time ago. But it has always been at the back of my head. What if what we see, what we feel (as in sensory perception), what we hear, what if it is all a figment of our imagination? An imagination that we have been brought up with?

It struck me how much the perspective changes the way we see things recently. Friends of my parents came home one night. My entire family was at our shop at the other end of the city. I offered to go along with the friends to the shop, since they were not from Pune and didn't know the roads. And it changed the way I see Pune.

Having travelled the length and breadth of the city on a two wheeler for most of my life (generous thank you to the folks at Kinetic Engineering and Honda Motor Scooter India, for the unforgettable experiences I've had on a Kinetic Honda, a Kinetic Nova and a Honda Activa, before my current beast), all the development was unnoticed. I'd seen it change slowly, seen it evolve. But when was the last time I'd travelled through Pune sitting in the back of an Army Gypsy vehicle? A VERY long time ago. Sitting in a Gypsy again, it suddely showed me the contrasts in the Pune of old and the new Pune. It showed me the immense development that had taken place in my city. The city I'd lived in for years. It felt an alien city suddenly.

Another example of this, is the realisation that my college is actually a very beautiful place. When you're busy with college activities, you seldom see how nice the place is. The other day, I took out my camera to take a couple of pics. The realisation didn't dawn on me until I'd started clicking. My college is beautiful. In bits anyway. And it took me the bast part of three years to realise that.

How deep does it go? How much of what we sense is real, and how much of it is what we're supposed to sense? Who can tell?

You don't know what this means....

... until it happens to you.

@ At the other entity involved- no hard feelings, merely an observation.
Disclaimer: The image and alt text are copied exactly as is from xkcd.
(c) xkcd etc.

Salt In My Wounds

You've probably heard the old proverb about how 'rubbing salt into one's (no offence to enthu) wounds' is a bad idea. Well. My doctor did just this. He rubbed Copper Sulphate into an open wound in my thumb. He's not a maniac or anything (despite the fact that he rides a red bike with the registration number painted in a manner akin to dripping blood ). I've had this weird muscle growth around my thumb, and he used the blue vitriol to kill the growth. Now, having rubbed CuSO4 rubbed into my wounds, I am officially the coolest person on the planet. MUHAHA!

Contradictions

It seems to me, that having a blog is taken as an allowance to talk utter rubbish, which seems to be brilliantly funny (or smart, insightful, etc.) at first. However, if you'll just look at it a little harder, and think a little harder, you'll see it for the stupid thing it really is. Now, as you know from here, these thoughts that I have, critical of what other people seem to do, in general either begin with myself, or end with moi (pronounced mwaah by the way, it's French for 'me').

So to get on with the so called rubbish that I've (just) spoken about, let (me read a letter I recently received... It says... (If you haven't played Half-Life 2, don't even bother with this)) me quote myself, which I believe, GB Shaw thought was a pretty cool thing to do (not quote me dopehead, quote himself).

From 'Language'
"Language is a gift. A gift that has led mankind to where we are now. We must not, must not, let this gift go in vain by terribly mutilating it.
< /Rant >

*Sigh*. Like that will make any difference."

If you read that post, you'll see me waxing eloquent about how wonderful English is, how nasty we are being by decimating it etc. And I ended it with that nugget of irony right there. I've used an HTML close tag to signify an end to my ranting.
And isn't the use of HTML in English to express thoughts a corruption of the language too?

Credits:
The aforementioned KhaGaM, for pointing this out to me.
Anu, from here, for inadvertently reminding me that I was supposed to blog about this.

Peer Back-Pressure

Peer Back-Pressure. Queer little term isn't it? I've been in a bit of a contemplative mood lately. And that's a term I've come up with. Yes, I will eventually (The author wishes to explain that 'eventually' happens to be a few lines down the post, but rather likes the indefineteness (is that a word?) of 'eventually) explain what that means, but for now, I'll lay a little bit of the foundation.

We all know what peer pressure is (And the author's unequivocal opinion is that you're a dolt if you don't). It's the implicit (or explicit) pressure exerted by a peer group on individuals, almost forcing them to change their views, likes, dislikes etc. to a stance in line with that of the peer group. Most of the time, the individual succumbs (knowingly or otherwise) to the pressure and changes. That's simple isn't it? Now, onward to the back-pressure bit.

Now, (Yes, the author understands that you're getting quite annoyed, but he's enjoying this. Be a little patient) back pressure is this term I came across while reading a bit of hydraulics. And being in the contemplative mood, it just sort of fit in. So yes, the point of this post. What I mean by back-pressure is the pressure the individual exerts upon himself to change, when his views on anything, agree with the views of an unpopular bunch of people. This sort of thing is what I've noticed around me recently. What I fail to understand is, why must the individual change if his views agree with those of an unpopular group? Surely, views and nature are not necessary or sufficient conditions for each other. Liking a particular band/book that is liked by the aforementioned groups does not make you a member of that group, and similarly, the other way around. In my opinion, the individual should stay as he/she is, and not be influenced by this peer back-pressure.

Whew! Did you get all of that? When I wrote this, it was with a few people I knew in mind. But all the thinking has led me to quite a conclusion! I've discovered, over the past day or so, that I've been as guilty of succumbing to peer back-pressure as the people I had in mind. Aren't we all?

Abstraction

I have this feeling very often. When everything I see becomes fodder for abstract thoughts. All sense of reality is shred away from the smallest things... becoming more and more unreal as I think about it. Words. They're a favourite theme for abstraction. The word in question swiftly loses all sense as I drown in my sea of abstruse ideas. It goes on until I have no clue what the word means, or how I spell it. Then, my mind blanks out and reboots.

It gets worse with things I see around me... The IC engine dissolves into a piston reciprocating in thin air. And then details are added in, without there yet being a cylinder. And then my mind overloads and reboots. The maths equation gets split into a thousand small pieces. Each piece, my mind tries in vain to define. And fails spectacularly after heroic attempts to make sense of half of them. And again, the reboot.

I try to read a book, and the thermodynamic problem I decided to give up on more than a year ago, waltzes into my head. And it will not leave me. Till I've exhausted all my mental faculties. And all that remains is the reboot.

Sometimes I think it's too much for my tiny mind. I do not possess the mental powers to sustain long period of abstraction. But then again, if the powers that be were listening, I wouldn't even have the small periods of abstraction.

It doesn't really matter thoug... *Reboot*

Drive

Drive. It's an important sort of thing. And it would be, since the drive(train) connects the engine to the rear wheels and that's what finally gets you motion. A good drive(train) will give you a fabulous sense of acceleration. So the thing about drive(tra...

Naah. Just screwing with you...
What I really feel like writing about is drive. Others ofcourse can call it desire. But I'll stick with drive. It's what really gets you to work. I remember, not so long ago, when the all-important drive was ever-present. No longer. If you were to plot a graph of my drive vs time, (The author is fully aware that you, the reader are most likely a sane person, and wouldn't sketch such meaningless graphs for yourself, let alone for him.) this is what you'd end up with:

It's not that the drive deserts me. It doesn't. It just behaves of it's own free will. Does what it wants. Drives me to work one moment, and then *poof* it's gone. Like it were never there. And I can't even work with the reduced drive, by taking say an arithmetic mean, or the root mean square of the drive you see on the graph. I can only work in that little window provided between the red lines (And thank god for that. (Thank you, god!)).

But aah. This probably made no sense to you at all... Which is fine. A little madness is what I need.

Coincidences - Part 2

It's really odd. Yesterday, I'd posted about coincidences. And surprisingly (not?) I stumbled upon another coincidence, within a matter of a few minutes... What's going on?

This time, I was reading up on the 'Drake Equation'. It's a famous result, that gives the number of alien intelligences that may be present in our galaxy. It is based on as many as seven factors. Needless to say that the values taken for these seven factors are mostly based on the guesstimates of Frank Drake, rather than any scientific data. It is still an interesting result. According to Frank Drake, we should have about 10 communicating intelligences in our galaxy. Current estimates of the values put the result at a dismal 2. Then again, at least 2 is a number that doesn't really disagree with the Fermi paradox, which I might talk about later... For now, here's the Drake equation:

The coincidence rises from the fact that yesterday I was reading my favourite web comic, xkcd, and what is the first strip I see based on? The Drake Equation of course! It puzzles me a little, the rate at which these coincidences are happening. But ah well... Here's the comic:


Oh and by the way, xkcd is a really great web comic. Give it a visit once in a while. You won't be disappointed.