The correct treatment

Does that make me sexist? 'tis sex :)

Don't be the Forever Alone Guy!

Take pride, Forever alone guy. My ass, lolz!

Got this new craze to build up these viral rage comics. Been working on making on random cliched ideas but have discarded every one of these till now. I hope this works out. Lets see how regularly I post. :)

A.E.D.S.

As far as my conscious can feel and my brain can appreciate, this has to be a reasonably bulk phenomenon. Of course, AEDS is my “own” condensation; well the dislodgement of ‘I’ does make it me sire to this acronym. Apparently, one doesn’t require a tank full of premium 91-octane comprehension up above to come up with one. Acquired Emotional Deficiency Syndrome, or for the so-talked-about layman, Emotional AIDS. AEDS.

Writer’s block. Life happened.

What forced my body to lie back on my bed and my conscious to stare at the ceiling for what felt like eternity was a visit to a twin of my childhood house. At the time of the destined visit, a very good friend of mine was residing there. It was all “normal” until we paid a faithful visit to the roof of the dwelling. I know that the upcoming description acquires  its origins from too-cool-to-be-true movies, but it is accurate as far as I can recall.

The view instantly filled my upper hard drive with unconsciously formatted, smudged out memories. It was as if there was a sudden burst of vision-impairing light and I was travelling back to the ‘good old days’ at the speed of darkness. Well, aye, the part about the flashy light is rather pretentious but the darkness thing really came alive. The destruction of a massive star, a black hole had come into being and I was hit with the full throttle power of a starship.

Wannabe writer’s block. Reality happened.

Existence seems pointless as all the dimensions of the dreams within dreams come tumbling down. I always live in denial that multiple personality disorder ain’t a real damn thing. Oh yeah, you see the goddamn irony. I denied it to myself that it does not exist!

There’s a thing in my heart,

 but it doesn’t exist.

There’s a feeling in my heart,

but it doesn’t speak.

There’s a voice in my heart,

but it doesn’t reach out.

There’s a vision in my heart,

but it doesn’t feel.

There’s a pain in my heart,

but it is not you!

How do I appreciate this inner voice when it is crawling all over me? What do I possibly do when it opens up the black hole in my heart whenever a beautiful imagery is blooming in my head? When do I listen to it; when it says “This feeling you sense is the Philosopher’s Stone; it does not exist” or when it goes “There is no moving on bitch”?


Real life. AEDS happened.

Nice Guy™ Inc.

His mother told him, "Someday you will be a man,
And you will be the leader of a big old band.
Many people coming from miles around,
To hear you play your music when the sun go down.
Maybe someday your name will be in lights,
Saying Johnny B. Goode tonight."

That wasn’t just some filler oldies song meant for a loud start (Author’s Note: Actually, it is the very famous ‘Johnny B. Goode’ from the legend Chuck Berry). My mama also told me, “Tannu be good, always.” What she didn’t tell me are the idiosyncrasies of a nice boy; one of them being: “Nice guys finish last”. True. Period

All around me are familiar faces
worn out places, worn out faces
Bright and early for the daily races
Going nowhere, going nowhere

Nothing much here. Kind of describes my current days precisely to the fact whether you are dead or alive.

Their tears are filling up their glasses
No expression, no expression
Hide my head I want to drown my sorrow
No tomorrow, no tomorrow

Oh my, this is kind of funny. This song is wholly dictating my life these days it seems. It is like the words are literally being transcribed onto my life’s motion picture. The first two lines give away shit loads of information, about series of events currently happening around me, in the most compact manner possible. I’m not onto it a single word; that is not why I wrote this piece of crap. The story makes sense to me from the penultimate line where I perfectly do justice to my role of being a … well, a nice boy. I know proclaiming to be a ‘nice guy’ will require you to render your justification to be one. Well, that is just the paradox we got to live with. Welcome to the cruel world. Ah just noticed, the beginning of my paragraph is exactly same as the commencing line of the next one. Did I mention something about the flow of my life!

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying 
Are the best I've ever had

Women are only attracted to men who behave like men; you know like rough and tough, survival-of-the-fittest men. She doesn’t care for the guys who won’t ever dare to break her heart or will never ever think of taking advantage of her. For her, you become one-of-us, her souvenir from the opposite sex. She won’t go for the quiet you, oh no, my friend, she wants the loud rash jerks who won’t give her the respect she deserves and will treat her like a, well, bitch. You, being the ‘nice guy’ will never get the boyfriend postage because she only thinks of you as a ‘nice guy’ which you are. You’ll always be her friend, ever climbing on her ladder of friendship for eternity. The lucky ones to survive this limbo will acquire the title of being the ‘backup plan’. The unlucky ones to have survived hardships of this waitlist only see the light of the day to be heartbroken.

I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very very, mad world, mad world

It’s pretty hard to play the role of a ‘nice guy’ responsibly after the realization that you are one and that you aren’t going sailing any up in life. The satisfaction you derived earlier from carrying those polite DNA is lost in the egocentric assessment of input and output when you grasp what being a badass gets you. The water crosses the tolerance line of a nice guy when all he gets is “there is a lucky gal waiting just for you somewhere out there” or “you’re like a lovely brother to me” or worse “you’ll be such a great boyfriend for someone else”. As if their “live and let live” rule was not considerate enough, the ‘bad guy’ has to exploit the “nice guys finish last” aphorism for pity benefits which she obliges thinking of herself as the ‘nice girl’.

The whole point of evolution is inequality. Life isn’t fair. The shadow of death, Black Mamba may be the most fatal creature on earth. While it can prey on anything that lies in front of it, its own death, the hawk, lurks over in the skies far beyond its reach. When it comes to keeping casual acquaintances, the ‘nice guy’ will finish first, but when it comes to confidant friends, he will finish last in your list. When it comes to confrontations, the ‘nice guy’ will probably disarm his counterpart by his composure to finish first, but when it will come down to surviving the fight, our chap would be too morally sugarcoated to get physical and may never finish. When it will come to finding love, ‘the nice guy’ will finish last without any questions asked, but when it is time to keep love, you bet he will finish first. Irony? Life isn’t fair.

Children waiting for the day they feel good
Happy Birthday, Happy Birthday
And I feel the way that every child should
Sit and listen, sit and listen

A nice guy is a ‘nice guy’ only because he is shy enough not to ask you out. He is the child who wants to always feel safe, who is intimidated even to approach a beautiful woman. He needs to learn not to be insecure in handling criticism. He needs it to be sung to him that life is not to be taken too seriously and that there is nothing dreadful in putting your own wishes ahead of others. He just needs to be loved.

Went to school and I was very nervous
No one knew me, no one knew me
Hello teacher tell me what's my lesson
Look right through me, look right through me

The ‘nice guy’ was always the nice guy. He never had the option to turn into a badass nor could he ever. He was always present there. He always wanted things to be done perfectly without anyone else feeling any burden. Once out in this mad kingdom where one only worships the fake, he greeted everyone with his weak-smile ugly mask. He quietly hummed and went along with you because he thought it was impolite to stop others from taking advantage. He was the only one left wondering at times to how a woman could be turned on by such negative remarks. He had always been the one who spent one full hour begging his wish was also fulfilled after he had spent the previous twenty three being trotted upon. And at the end of the day, he will still be the ‘nice guy’ and continue searching for someone who will understand him. Till then ...

And I find it kind of funny
I find it kind of sad
The dreams in which I'm dying
Are the best I've ever had
I find it hard to tell you
I find it hard to take
When people run in circles
It's a very very, mad world, mad world
Enlarge your world, mad world

(Author’s Note: Spread all over this entry, you went through the lyrics of this song ‘Mad World’ by Tears for Fears and illustriously cover by Gary Jules. This is a no-profit personal blog of a ‘nice guy’. No accusations of plagiarism please! Ya, so back to the point, the original version is your party CD mix song when driving on a fast highway in the afternoon because they say not to mix drinking with driving. It has got these moving beats and funky background sounds. But, the real prize is the cover by a no-star-before-its-release, Gary Jules. You ought to get high up in the sky and deep down in guilt in the same line. A lone boozer’s best man. Nothing can subliminally fuck your mind more than this adaptation.)

PS: Remaining the ‘nice guy’ is not always a nicer thing to do. Turning into an ego-inflated badass can never work for such a guy for it will just make him an insecure jerk. This site can enlighten you more: http://www.heartless-bitches.com/rants/niceguys/niceguys.shtml

Tanay Upadhyaya's photostream

Tanay Upadhyaya's photostream on Flickr.

Clicking and uploading pics are source of immense satisfaction for me. :D

I Ms. Miss Destiny

And I also happen to miss-place words easily. Ha ha, just wanted to kick-off with something lame so that the crap to follow may appear less of a fart. See, the flabby start continues.

This idea was loitering in my mind since the very first day I booked the URL for my blog; an unsophisticated way of saying since I started this random blog of mine. Not the idea of having a goofy beginning silly, but that of ‘destiny’. The ‘density’ of the weight, I was under all this time and the wait, thinking how to write my own ‘destiny’, was massive. I know, I know. It is still as smelly as it was in the opening. I warned you it would be all crap. It’s like the crap that crap eats and craps out again. Wait for it; you might end up developing a taste for the flavor of shit I have to offer.

Okay, the truth … my processing unit is devoid of any input to craft an upright structural output on this so-called thingy “destiny”. The more I try to picture, further blurrier my vision becomes. Sad. Poof. Entry.

An angel descends to the earth for the enlightenment of this diminutive human soul. She lowers her staff upon my fuzzy curls and at the stroke, as it touches my scalp, burning words flow across my nervous system. “There lies a sheer beauty in creation; in the art of the creator. Destiny is destined. Whatever attempts you may make to alter it, the whole universe will conspire to refurbish and restore to the last best known configuration. The source and sink of life are in destiny. It is recurrence of existence.”

What was that … do we finally know the truth? Do we finally know all the answers? So, the whole model has been designed in advance only. What then … every action, every event, every damn thing is meant to happen? Does it mean that even what I write next is decided?

Fuck.

Oops, that was never supposed to be written there. Miracle.

What did you say … everything is supposed to be what it has already been designated. What if this blog entry was destined to be the grandest piece ever produced in the English literature? But what did I just achieve here? I probably cooked the finest shit you ever read.

How on earth did I change this post’s destiny? Who am ‘I’ to this little piece of permutation and combination of words? So, am I the master here? This is my blog and I am its creator. This is my life and I am its master. I am the architect of my own destiny. What about you?

Some answers I still don't have:-

• What about all the girls I am not able to stalk on facebook? Is it also destined that I, as a fish, get caught in their net of privacy?
• Is it okay to approach a girl by using the Destiny Theory? What would happen if I go to her and claim that it is our destiny to meet?
• Would this post suffer the fate of comment drought?