A little poem I wrote a long time ago.
A love letter to the city I'm in love with.
At a time when my confidence in my abilities was at an all-time low, I read a book called Nikola Tesla: Imagination and the Man Who Invented the 20th Century. Written by Sean Patrick, this short eBook is a confidence-booster and a savior for those creative people who are questioning their worth. This book easily shot up on my favorite list. And I know that it will remain there for the rest of eternity.
The Universe as we know it is a bouquet of multitudinous, constantly revolving, constantly moving objects. In the largest scheme of things, we figure as nothing but mere specks. God, the one Creator of everything that exists, made sure that existence didn’t show bias. Everything, from the brightest star to the dullest meteor is allowed to take its own path. Occasionally, there are explosions from them running in to each other, but who’s complaining? There are after all, certain laws that keep them away from each other most of the time. And that’s just how the Universe works. If God is content with watching the Universe learn on its own, how does one planet’s haughty rebellion even matter?
I had narrated the story of how some people thought it was below them to talk courteously to the baristas at a coffeeshop a while ago. But that, perhaps, isn’t the only pertinent question. The question is, do we treat everyone like they’re beneath us if our work is in danger of being incomplete? If so, why is it that we think of ourselves as some sort of a God whose birth right it is to invade other people’s privacy and feel entitled to anything and everything?
The looming water crisis, that not many people are worried about, made me revamp this blog post – an essay that I had written quite a while ago. Wake up, people! It’s getting serious, and we need to help!
Sensitivity as a trait is so much more than the emotion it explains. As with some others, the way sensitivity is seen as a trait is completely twisted. It’s not exactly what it actually embodies. It is seen more as a negative quality than as a positive one. And that is, in no way, an encouraging statement.
When a book has a title as interesting as Becoming God, you sit up and take notice. You have a lot of expectations from it. And when it’s a new author who’s writing about this seemingly complicated topic, the excitement mingles with a sort of apprehension that you cannot explain. After all, you will now get to read a fresh perspective of divinity.
The blurb of Turtles All The Way Down is interesting. Not because it indicates mental illness, not because it indicates a certain level of mystery-solving, not because it seems like a novel that strives to be much more than what it looks like. But because it combines all the qualities and becomes much more than what it looks like.