Scaramouche, scaramouche!

Every now and then, I come across a song that makes me unbelievably happy just listening to it. Last week it was Rufus Wainwright - Instant Pleasure; this week I present you Queen - Good Old-fashioned Lover Boy. This may sound obsessive, but I suspect I lost 2 nights worth of sleep because the Queen song wouldn't stop playing in my head and I couldn't stop humming and giggling delightedly over it in bed. Now I'm just lapping up Queen's Platinum Collection, generously provided by bittorrent. I suppose I have Aditi to thank for this, O Aditi, provider of all good music, I worship you. Maybe not provider, but introducer. All the same.

Semester reopens on Monday, and I'm rather looking forward to it. I refuse to admit that I've been bored this holiday; the stubborness is inexplicable. I'll concede that I've been a tad restless this week or so, for certain reasons, but once semester starts no doubt I'll be quite happily distracted. This has been one of the most enjoyable holidays so far, not long enough to drag, and not short enough to leave me unsatisfied.

I've read 2 of Fry's books, which were both wonderfully poofy, witty and fun. Reread The Fountainhead, which was very fulfilling until I reached the end where I discovered that the last 6 pages were missing and scrambled desperately on the internet looking for an e-book copy. I watched Crash, a very confronting, vignette-style movie about racism twice. It was good, very well composed, and provided a lot of food for thought. I got a little terrified thinking about the firearm laws in the US, and how anyone could live at ease knowing the next person on the street may have a gun is beyond me.

I abandoned American Gods halfway through. It's uncharacteristic of me to not finish a book, but I didn't have the stamina for it. I've only a limited appetite for the fantasy genre, and American Gods just failed to draw me in. Admittedly, I started it during that period of restlessness, where watching TV was the only thing that could hold my attention long enough to make the time pass. So I watched the news channels a lot, which didn't help the situation, because of all the depressing stupidity and stubborness going on in the Middle East. Where is the UN in all of this, for god's sake?

Anyway, that about sums up this holiday, and ultimate's part in it goes without saying of course. This update has come a little late; it's me being lazy again. I hope all is well back home, and to those who've left or are now starting to leave for uni, all the best!

[ this space for rent ]

At last, the tedium of exams are over. How did I go? Who knows. Not too well, I'd hazard, but I'm too relieved to care at the moment.

Even before the paper yesterday morning, I was up and about various libraries in uni collecting what shall be termed my holiday kit, picking up books, DVDs and putting more on hold. I will read, watch, play (frisbee + guitar) myself silly this holidays. I don't think I've read a book proper since Huxley's Island start of this year.

After the paper, a smile (the usual explosive sort you find after last exam papers) battled with my lips to be let out, but I didn't want people to think I'd gone mad smiling crazily to myself but I did laugh a little. I came home, set up camp on the couch and read Stephen Fry - The Liar from cover to cover. It was 2am when I finished, and I put down the book drunkenly, dizzy with contentment. I've neglected the pleasure of reading a good book far too long.

The Liar is brilliant. I loved it. It's funny, witty, touching, entertaining, ridiculous, insightful, exciting and it makes me sound like an amazon book review. I think I've covered all the adjectives now. Whatever it is, it wasn't intellectually heavy and plodding stuff, thus perfect for resting the mind after two weeks of fuckety exams. Helped that during that time I was pretending to study I'd wikied and googled the life out of Stephen Fry (and Hugh Laurie and others) and was able to appreciate the book more for its scattered references to his child-to-young-adulthood. My next mission is to read all other books from the blessed pen of Stephen Fry and possibly Laurie's The Gun Seller too.

That's all for the post-exam post (geddit? geddit? *collective groan*) and I'm off to sink my teeth into a DVD. Woohoohoohooo! [/tigger]

PS: I have decided that Michael Rosenbaum, in ten years time, will be James Spader. How I heart those two. I have a weakness for men with incredibly sexy voices. Incredibly.

Atlas Shrugged

During the holidays, I read a book called Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. Its ideology of individualism appealed to me, and I could relate to the heroes Ayn Rand wrote about - man as he ideally should be. It talked about self-centeredness (the negative connotations attached to it in real life is misleading), pertaining to how one should live life to seek one’s own happiness, and how life should be fair trade, you receive only as much as you give and vice versa, and there was no question of sacrifice for the sake of society’s morals, propriety, or tradition, or social norms, or family ties, or any other reason like that. It also said how everything you had should be earned and deserved.

I guess the underlying theme of the book was summed up in this statement that Ayn Rand’s heroes lived by and tried to execute in a world of hypocrisy and favours and groveling men.

I swear, by my life and my love of it, that I will not live for the sake of another man, nor ask another man to live for mine.

I argued to myself that this was a fair enough proposition. I liked what I read. Could it be possible though, for society to function by that statement? It’s hard debating with oneself, so I’m eagerly awaiting an opportunity to discuss the book with someone. But I’m digressing.

Why I started this off is because, recently, something happened to make me ponder, how, as much as I liked this ideology, it was harder than I thought to live by it. I’m only speaking on a personal level, and a different person with a completely different character would probably have not been caught in this ‘dilemma’ at all. Either way, recently, I found myself making a decision for the sake of someone else, a decision which made me unhappy, a decision which was made at my expense, yet, it was a decision I felt obliged and compelled to make.

The effects of that choice will, I’m sure, not keep me unhappy for long, for I make decisions and quickly move on. Many a precious moment is wasted regretting the past. But the fact is, at that instant, I was upset. Why, I asked myself, did I compromise my happiness for this person? I found myself answering, because she has more need than me. Because from a moralistic point of view, it’s a slight inconvenience to me but a big difference in improving her life, allegedly. Because, it’s the ‘right’ thing to do.

Whose ‘right’? Whose morals? Have I compromised my own? I think, my nature has put me in a catch-22. On one hand, I could not bring myself to deny this person her pleading request, for if I did, I would have felt bad. In retrospect, I think I can safely say, I would go and have gone, many a time, to great lengths to ensure someone else’s convenience or happiness, at the expense of my own. There has always been a reprimanding voice in my head going, “You shouldn’t be so selfish!” whenever I chanced upon the thought “What about me?”

But then again, I always feel, what I’ve compromised in the many instances past have been relatively petty issues, issues that weren’t very significant on a grander scale of things. I’d probably play a different tune if that decision affected me to a greater extent (like giving away food till I starve to death for example).

On the other hand, after making that decision (as grudgingly as grudging gets), I was unhappy. I really didn’t want to do it, but I really couldn’t bring myself to say no either (it felt too evil, too cruel). My morals tell me I should help someone who’s more in need than me, even though I lose a little at the end. My happiness with status quo tells me, why lose that little at all?

I see no immediate solution to my catch-22. Perhaps one day, I’ll harden enough to be able to say No when I really want No, and not feel so horribly bad about it. I guess the choice is between compromising my morals or my happiness. And I believe, (unfortunately?) the scale is tipped in favour of the idea of ‘noble’ sacrifice – not because I seek nobleness or martyrdom or awe and unending gratitude at a sacrifice, but because I cannot bring myself to do otherwise.

I wonder when I’ll be able to pick up the statement I quoted above. I wonder if I ever will. But now, having been put to the test, I simply couldn’t shrug it off the way Atlas did.