The Pleasure of Reading a Book

I have 92 blog entries in blogspot, and 79 of them are in this blog. Isn't that marvelous? I started this blog sometime in 2004. 92 entries in two years is not that bad a feat I guess. This information gives me another reason to ponder over a fact, which has become quite a clichéd topic for thinking. The fact is "how time flies by".

This is how it all began: The Song of My Life: First and The Furious

How what began? My blogging career? The online version of my confused thoughts? Or a "previously not discovered" part of me? I don't know for sure, but one thing I can say is that I really enjoy blogging. However, I did not manage to go to the BD blogger's meet, which was actually a thought that I myself fancied. Well, there are too little time to do too many things.

There was a time, when there was ample time, for accomplishing almost anything and everything. Now I feel time running fast, and I am being forced to skip a lot of things that I'd really like to do. Sometimes it is lack of time, while in other occasions it is lack of will, courage (yeah, it exists), and moreover, lack of confidence.

My now deceased uncle inserted a concept within my mind, from which I don't seem to get out. He once scolded my cousin for not thinking before talking. We were in the same class, and he was my mother's elder sister's elder son. We were best friends, and also competitors. So when uncle was scolding the cousin for a fooling, non-thinking remark, I decided to align myself with uncle, and I, too, agreed that it is utterly foolish to talk without thinking the consequences. Cousin was hurt, as he expected a bit more support from me, and he openly challenged me that he is sure I never think about the consequences before talking. Apparently, I am only affirming to the uncle's theory in order to avoid being at the receiver's end of scolding.

Later that day, I vowed to myself that I'd actually think before talking, from then onwards. Isn't it funny how these little, insignificant incidents leave a long lasting mark upon someone? There's a concept I read in management, called "Escalated Commitment". I am sure some of you will recognize it. It's about continual devoting of resources and or efforts to causes that are known and or proven to be lost (hehe that's my little definition; I'd never dared anything like that when I was a student—job does teach you something!). A project gets started, with a lot of promise, and resource is poured in it luxuriously. After some time, it gets clear that the project has no hope. But still, a few individuals who were behind the original concept keep on insisting to continue the project. This becomes a ego thing; a personal battle. Long-term danger is overlooked because of the fear of short term face losing.

So is this thinking before talking syndrome an escalated commitment from my side? Well, it isn't that bad, but I fear that I am becoming a slave to the brain, and my heart is weeping in its captivated state. Sometimes I say things that need to be told, not the things that I intend to tell. But this works more in the way that I don't say a lot of things causes me remorse afterwards. I tell the truth; the honest, and sometimes brutal facts in the face of people, but sometimes I just skip saying how I am feeling, to make someone feel a bit better.

By the way, this was not what I wanted to write about. Absolutely not! The large number of entries have made me write all this. Going back to the original context, the pleasure of reading a book is never complete unless one can associate oneself with a character or two, from the book. I started reading the Harry Potter series in late December, and now here I am, having finished all six books in less than two months. It didn't take a long time, as I enjoyed associating myself with the characters.

I guess I am being affected by Sunday blues. What is Monday blues for westerners is Sunday blues for us. It's 12:40 AM in the night, and I think I should go to bed now. Tomorrow will be a long day, with a number of pending tasks to be tackled, and a dentist's appointment. I've been on heavy antibiotic medication, and I've already visited the doc several times throughout the last month or so. I am growing impatient. My teeth keeps on giving me pains, and it started from my childhood.

Sometimes I wonder, with caution and modesty whether there's a tradeoff between brain and body. I haven't seen too many pretty intelligent and dumb ugly people in my life. There seems to be some sort of balance, somewhere, and this further increases the intensity of my fascination about the tradeoff theory.