I was just conversing with a friend about the end of our bachelors degrees. So I'll be a CS Graduate degree holder in a matter of months. What is it I want to do now? I expressed sadness, a sense of loss for that routine, that familiarity with everything in my life that I have had for the last comfortable four years. What next? I might as well go for an MBA, but that seems so... ordinary, so arbitrary. It brings to my mind the image of a long line of treadmills with corporate employees on each one, trying to outrun the other all their lives, not realizing its a fruitless endeavor. In the end, they're so spent with trying to play catch up that they are running just to keep their positions in the line until eventually they fall off the treadmill.

I don't want to be on a damn treadmill.

I always envisioned a life to have some meaning, some creative outlets by which one could potentially change the world, or at least change the "mahulla" (neighborhhood). When I think of people changing the world, I think of artists, architects, poets, painters, writers, directors, et all. I do not think of MBAs. Maybe that's why I'm reluctant to join the ranks of the millions who graduate from business school each year. How can you change the world when your primary concern is maximization of profits? Let's say though, I do become one of these ultra-creative people. Let's say, somehow, by working my ass off for half my life, I manage to actually do something worthwhile, provide some meaning to my otherwise meaningless life. What then? Is that brief moment of glory within and without going to have to be the sutainence for my soul for the rest of dreary life, which I would spend trying to duplicate the past success and most likely not being able to? Is that what life is supposed to be about? Flogging yourself to death to leave your mark and then basking in the brief glow of recognition and appreciation, only to be relegated back to the end of the line so that the next person can have his scheduled 15 minutes of fame? Would that fill in the void in my life? If yes, then how shallow does one have to be to prostitute one's own art, one's own creations just to satisfy that lust of public approval? Is that who I want to be? Is that who I already am?

Oh, for a life of sensations rather than thoughts.

For the avid videogamer, here's a great Silent Hill 2 remix entitled There was a hole here. There's something ominous about that phrase, despite it appearing in a very literal context in the game itself. By the way, for a perfect example of droolworthy graphics, please click on the picture to the right of this text.

Oh, and for a great many more great remixes of videogames, old and new, visit OCRemix.

Yesterday I finally got a chance to visit the Apple retailers that have opened up at Zamzama. I'm not exaggerating when I say that when you enter, you'll want to buy everything in the place, from the Rs. 146,000 iMac with the huge screen to the gorgeous white crystal mouse with no buttons, just sensors and a little ball instead of the scroll wheel. Unfortunately, the keyboard and mouse were only compatible with iMacs, otherwise I would have walked out with an armful of goodies and no money in my account and a goofy grin on my face.

I have become that which I hated: a person who has so little meaning in her life that she needs the bloody TV always on or something going on to distract her from the very shallowness of existance. The sort of person who must be surrounded by people to alleviate her own intrinsic loneliness.

That being said, it's sunday again. I never could get the hang of sundays. A day of rest just doesn't appeal to me anymore. I find myself bored out of my mind, with a million potential things to do but no drive to do any of them. In theory, sunday sounds great, in practice, sunday is a depressing day with nothing to do which will end on an introspective note, which is never good.

Valentine's day has come and gone. On said day, the MBA students at my university had some sort of function going on involving carnations and music with horrible "although we are far apart/ you're always in my heart/ you make me feel so high/ I feel like I could fly" sort of lyrics. Watching the MBA lot, dressed up in red and spreading the festivity, I realized that even if I could fake a smile and be increasingly peppy and active in such events for my own inevitable MBA "projects", did I really want to be? Which is when I started actually looking into Indus Valley as an option. Yeah, I know, I change my mind more than I change my clothes, but then I've never had a set path I want to follow. So now I'm looking into liberal arts degrees for my masters.

And so begins another depressing sunday.

Today's the third day of holidays in a row this week for me. The good news is that yesterday's protests in Karachi went off really well, completely non-violent, yay! Of course, KFC, the inevitable target to take out all your frustrations at the Western World, has closed up shop today just to be on the safe side. The bad news is that Roberto Calderoli, Italy's Reforms Minister has decided to wear a shirt he had made up with one of the cartoons of the Prophet and the most the Prime Minister can do is "ask him to resign" since under the Italian constitution, the PM can't actually sack a Minister.

And so commences another day of doing absolutely nothing.

I have come to the conclusion that the majority of people in Karachi who can and do drive do so like complete jackasses. This does not, by the way, exclude myself, but heck, I'm a beginner, what's your excuse?

My aunt asked my brother to tape a big "L" to the rear window of the car that I usually drive. My brother found this infinitely amusing and informed me right away just to watch my expression of horror. People are patronizingly understanding when it comes to "women drivers" as it is, and the last thing I need is a sign that shows I'm a rung lower than even "women drivers": a novice.

Life, in general, is good. I'm a bit afraid to comment on how well everything seems to be going, less I jinx it. Yeah, I'm wierd and superstitious that way. I had an odd dream where I was a part of a family stuck in the backstage area of a very large stage and everyone but me goes through the door that leads to the main stage and I can't find the door after they've all left and the clapping is over and done and everything's dark and quiet. Not so bad, when you compare it to other dreams I've had, the really bad ones, but in this one I actually get to live my life in non-linear flashes of living in a cluttered and lonely backstage area for the rest of life and being forced to eat anything to survive, including eventually my own flesh. Blame Stephen King for that gruesome image. I suppose the more disturbing thing is that I woke up and went about my day as usual after that. No lingering revulsion or occasional shudder as an image from my dream came back. How disturbed do you have to be to not have disturbing things disturb you as they once did anymore?

Many of you, if you have nothing else to wonder about, may have been wondering at my lack of comment upon the hot topic among the Muslim world these days, the mean spirited cartoons of the Holy Prophet that originated from a Danish newspaper and were subsequently reprinted in many other European newspapers. First of all, I'm proud to see that on all the blogs I've check out that have commented on the issue, none are inflamed by what is obviously a cheap publicity stunt and an action as mean spirited as prodding a bear in a cage at the zoo repeatedly then gleefully waiting for him to react so that he can be reported to the Zoo authorities.

Upon observing the cartoons (yes, one must observe to make an informed decision), I felt more sad than angry. All the world appears to be behaving highly childishly, with the instigators of the cartoons refusing to apologize despite a global outcry, some of the enraged Muslim population lashing out at Denmark and of course the silent majority that is sitting and watching. If this is the general direction humanity is going to be travelling in, the treading of minorities rights and the lack of basic respect for one anothers' beliefs in the name of freedom, I'm quite sure we're on the path to self-destruction in about forty to fifty years. The world is behaving like a child with a near-genius intellect dropping out of high school and going to work mugging old ladies to be able to pay for food. You can't help but be sad at all the wasted potential. As for the cartoons, feeble attempt at provocation shouldn't matter to the mature mind. After all, would you, as an adult, be offended into action by a six year old brat who whacks you with a stick and then runs away sticking his tongue out? If this distasteful disrespect is what passes for humor in Europe, then they're welcome to it.

I have never felt more intellectually alive and less articulate in expressing it. Thanks to a friend who's preparing for the GRE, I have been brought down to earth about the pitiful state of my vocabulary. I need to learn some more words, and fast to gain back my intellectual street cred.

As of late, I have been really enjoying my Physics classes. Anyone who may have been bored enough to have been reading this blog for the past two years would realize that I have, on occasion, confessed to a great dislike for the subject, but as of late, it's made me realize more than ever how important a good teacher is.

I don't know about the rest of you, but the concept of space, an airless, soundless vacuum, scares the crap out of me while being oddly attractive at the same time. I imagine being in a space suit floating through space with no concept of up, down, forward, backward or gravity or any sort of direction whatsoever would be a bit like a return to the womb. An ever-expanding universe full of just light and dark and black holes. Stars below your feet and stars above your head, at least until your suit's oxygen runs out and your insides burst through to become your outsides. Did I mention outer space fascinates me?

I was out driving again today. One of these days, I'll take a camera along and capture the beautiful scenery along the way. The Darakshan area is idea for driving practice, and there's such a sense of liberation to be had from speeding along an empty, smooth road at sixty miles an hour with nothing on your mind but staying on the road. Flying in two dimensions is my new favorite hobby, as soon as I get a darn license, because, as everyone feels compelled to remind me time and time again, if I hit someone and don't have a licence, I can be charged with attempted murder.

Choice is an illusion. Every choice I make is either because:

a) I am influenced by past experiences to make that choice

b) Because that's the way I'm genetically wired

c) My choice is guided by events in my life at the moment which leave me little room for personal tastes.

I may choose to believe that I have the freedom to make a completely free choice, but then again it becomes a moot issue because belief is probably an illusion as well.

While decieving the self is normal, in both day to day matters as well as the larger issues, to truly understand yourself and your motivations, I think we need to closely examine our choices and determine which of the above three it was that determined this particular choice for us and if it was A or B, what the source was. Identifying what went wrong isn't enough anymore, it's more important to identify why exactly what went wrong went wrong to be able to prevent it from affecting your choices in the future.