.<-than
It's 5.50 in the morning. There's nothing special about that. I'm still at Rhodes Hall. Lately I feel like that isn't too special an occasion either. Time has been flying by, but not. Can't really explain it. There's hardly any time to eat, sleep, breathe, crap, play or do anything other than the assignments. The part I used to hate about studying. When I take stock of how I spent my time, 80% of it is usually related to school. Things are flying past me - classes, jobs, education, money. But still the past month and a half feels like a gazillion years.
Somehow the picture above makes it all worth while though. Ithaca is gorge(ou)s. Everyone knows that. But I'm beginning to discover it in the strangest ways. From the 5th floor of Rhodes Hall at 5.53 in the morning the view seems a lot to take in, in a single frame. The Clock Tower and Statler to my left, the baseball field in front and a dark scary road leading to East Hill towards my right. Complete silence except for the occasional car passing by. Some stars seem to be poking holes in the sky and one big one wants to shine, even through the thick cloud trying to cover it.
What's the point of this blog entry you ask? I have no idea. No real revelations to discuss and definitely no new theories. I'm listening to the same playlist I listen to everyday when I walk to the Commons, but it feels so inexplicably different right now. Why am I still awake? Partly because I promised a friend who's sleeping in the lounge behind me that I'd wake her up, but mostly so that I can catch the sunrise.
This entry much like my being awake is totally pointless but this complete pointlessness is now becoming the underlying theme of my most interesting pursuits. The 'nothing specials' the 'totally pointlesses' seem far more interesting than most things with purpose. Watching 10 straight episodes of a stupid series like Heroes instead of sleeping. Walking to North Campus on to the suspension bridge to smoke a cigarette. Sitting outside in the freezing cold to write a blog entry about nothing.
If my life were to be the sum total of a series of absolutely pointless events/pursuits, would I make a pointless enough point about pointlessness?
Another Lesson in Portfolio Management
I've discussed the parallels between love/emotions and investments before. Somehow today, I feel like 3.33 a.m. is the perfect time to formalize my thoughts on the subject. Let's start with the basics:
Love = Money/Liquid Assets
Self-love = Cash reserves
Love for family = Treasury bonds
Love for friends = Diversifiable portfolio of value/growth/GARP investments in publicly traded securities
Incoming love from friends = Convertible bonds
Romantic love = High volume speculative trade for big swinging dicks
Marriage = Retirement plan
Lust = Day-trade
Casual acquaintances/Networking = Forex hedges
This is the story of portfolio manager X. Until the age of 12 or so, his portfolio consists mostly of treasury bonds along with a few forex hedges, with slowly building cash reserves. The excitement in the forex markets starts to make the treasuries look rather boring. This is when X decides he wants to test the real power of his cash and begins building his portfolio of investments. Some years X feels like a big swinging dick while in other more bearish years he settles for smaller positions in publicly traded securities, all the while building his appetite for risk. Then comes age 17-19 (college years) when he sees all his peers making big returns on big trades with the IT boom and general uptrend in GDP. He starts looking for the next sexy Microsoft/Google to put all his money in. After all, what good had diversification done him so far. The big money was in the speculative trades.
Treasuries are now hardly visible, and he's pulling his money out of the long-term investments because he thinks he's found his source for alpha. That year the markets gave him so much more than he'd dreamt of. On some volatile days, there were huge amounts to be made in day-trades. It was raining cash. He had so much cash now, that he was out hunting for more spec trades to invest in, and in the coming years there were many IT start-ups that he hand-picked to be queens of the markets.
Then the bubble burst. The markets that buried him in cash just like that, took it all away, just like that - with no respect for the investment strategies he thought he had perfected. All he was left with were a little bit of treasuries and some money tied up in the forex markets. The market recovers, but he doesn't. He's lost his nerve. Every time he finds a spec, his hands freeze up when it's time to pull the trigger. The next few years pass by, as he burns through his cash reserves and issues convertible bonds to survive. He spends his time looking through every stock screen he can get his hands on, looking for the next big thing - sometimes finding, never buying. His creditors keep telling him that spec trades aren't the only investments out there, that he should look for other sources of alpha.
Slowly, but surely at age 25, X begins to realize, that he doesn't have the stomach for specs any more. Day trades were not for him either - the teenagers on the trading floor could have those. X is now a well diversified value investor. The clean balance sheets afford him a sound sleep. But sometimes, just sometimes, he wonders if he might want to retire some day.
The Confines of Work & Play
It's pathetic.
I haven't written in ages. Even when I do write, it doesn't sound like something I'd write. All this time on my hands, all these thoughts on my mind, and I have nothing to show for it. I don't think I can write any more. It doesn't hold the same promise of satisfaction for me any more.
Anyway... So I was thinking, if you take away everything from one's life, with the exception of all basic human functions like eating, sleeping, crapping, jerking off, and smoking, what's left? We're so accustomed to the following description of life: Work & Play.
If I had the means to secure whatever I needed, as many rich people do, I wouldn't have to work. Now some rich people choose to work, because they've outgrown the age where all they wanted to do was play. Their choice is limited by the description of life that we've grown up to believe in - Work & Play. Some spend their entire lives playing. Paris Hilton. The world's full of people on this grid of Work & Play. There's those who's Work it is to Play and some who's Play takes Work. There are no lives or purposes outside of this grid. There is no other dimension.
Let us take away both Work and Play from the description of life. I know from personal experience that one does not cease to exist once this happens - but you surely don't feel like you exist either. It's just that we've grown up within this paradigm of Work & Play, that we can't think beyond it, to any other dimensions. There are those who wish to change the world and whatnot but that's just their silly imagination at Play. Some of them even make it their Work (social workers) and feel like they're living the good life (just like the Wall $treet Guy). I mean how the hell can anyone be sure that their particular way of changing the world is actually any better than someone else's? Eisenhower thought he changed the world too. Abdul Kalam was made President of India because he helped India get ahead in the nuclear arms race between India and Pakistan - he changed the world too. So no, the idea of giving your life up for a 'higher cause' can't be it. That's still just Work and Play. Then what is the higher dimension?
Is it love? I told a friend the other day, that loving people around you is like investing your thoughts, energy and time in others. By spreading your love to as many people other than yourself, you're diversifying your portfolio, and lowering your risks. If they succeed or are happy in life, then a part of you has also succeeded and is happy in your life, because you love them. Though this theory doesn't present a very strong case for monogamy, it may have its merits. I can't say that I've ever removed love from my life. I love my family, my friends, and I've also been told that I'm in love with the idea of romantic love. Maybe I would stop existing if I stopped loving, but I doubt it. I can imagine people who don't love anything or anyone. It's conceivable. Also, how much of our time or thoughts do we really spend loving those we love? Not much really. Love could again be Work or Play or Both.
Two basic criteria are emerging from this discussion. This other dimension (or dimensions, for that matter) separate from Work & Play, must be 1. Something that is essential for life (unlike Work & Play) and 2. Must not be reducible to Work or Play. The natural way to search for this 'dimension', as i keep calling it, is to look at what we do with our time and try to find something that matches the above criteria. For as long as I can remember, I haven't done anything that fits the above criteria. Everything has been either Work or Play. There really has to be more to life. This is just so depressing. Everything I have EVER done is reducible to JUST TWO simple concepts??!! My whole life surrounded by the boundaries of Work and Play?! Well, come to think of it, my whole life is also surrounded by the one simple concept called 'life'. But the structure of life can't be so simple, can it? Just simple tree-like? Is that what all these philosophers couldn't figure out for so many years?? Could that be all???!!!!!!
It's pathetic.
What if there is no purpose to life?
This question is often asked, but seldom answered. Perhaps out of fear of the foreseeable consequences. Is fame, money, ‘changing the world’, enjoying your life, or being remembered after you’re dead really worth anything? In the end, you’re just the same. Lifeless organic matter.
So what if your existence is pointless? Why continue to live? Maybe because we’ve been brought up to believe that death is irreversible, and since we don’t know any purpose in death either, we can’t really risk exploring the possibilities in death.
Five-step directions for living:
1. Assume that you must live.
2. Assume that you have the ability to believe whatever you want to believe.
3. Find a purpose that you can convince yourself is worthy of living for.
4. Live until purpose is achieved or until you give up on it.
5. Go back to Step 1.
Me Vs. Me
Step 1:
I must live because I have no other option. And I am not too proud to have no other option. I’ve done it before. When I was an infant, I wasn’t too proud to cry when I was hungry and had no other option.
But life’s too time consuming and totally pointless.
Listen to yourself boy – ‘time consuming’?? Do you have somewhere else you need to be? Pointless – Refer to steps 3 and 4.
What if I’ve already done all the living I’m meant to do?
Since when have you allowed yourself to be told you’re meant to do something?
Look who’s too proud now?
Stop being a smartass and listen. There IS NO OTHER BLEEPING OPTION! It’s not a choice. Death has no possibilities. You know that all too well. Remember chemistry? You’ll end up in the ground like all the other carbon chains – without the ability to choose a purpose.
Oh like I’m getting a lot of choices while I’m alive.
Oh shut it! You have so many bloody choices, you’re just too scared to do anything with them.
Okay, what if life is like a game and it’s better to quit when you’re winning? And if I’m not winning, who is? Right?
True champions do not quit when they’re winning, they continue winning until the end. And you’re definitely winning. There. Feel better now?
Alright fine, if it shuts you up, I’ll live.
Step 2:
I definitely have the ability to believe whatever you want me to believe, with all the crap you’ve been feeding me since I was born, I don’t think I’ll ever believe anyone else.
Is that so? Haven’t you bought into all their notions of success? The idiots on the outside who have no idea what it’s like on the inside? And they don’t even have to live with the stench you reek of.
Don’t even get me started… ah forget it! So fine, I bought into their crap, but you let me down often enough didn’t you?
They made you believe I let you down. Get over it you wimp!
And now who’s buying into their notions of acceptable behavior?
Point taken. Now listen, you can believe everything I want you to believe, precisely because I’ve let you down in the past.
So now you agree that you let me down?
See, you don’t have any other choice. You can either be biased towards yourself or spend a lifetime figuring out which of them on the outside is right. Now, the fact that I let you down in the past, means you believed me when I was wrong. Which means… ta da! You can believe me regardless of whether I’m wrong or right! Wait… let me finish.
If you believe someone on the outside, you are bound to doubt them unless you worship them. You wouldn’t do that would you? You wouldn’t worship someone on the outside when you could worship me?
Why not? They seem to have it more figured out than you do… your argument is totally screwed up by the way – the one about me believing you regardless of whether you’re right or wrong.
False pride my dear, false pride. You may have nothing left, but that shall always remain. You can’t worship anyone on the outside – that was carved in stone since you were three. No God but me.
Fine. Wait. What if it’s all this false pride crap that’s made a mess of me?
Do you really believe you’re a mess? You look like crap – agreed. You’re confused and crazy in the head – agreed. Hey!! Stop putting words in my mouth! You are NOT a mess. I know that’s tough to believe. But you aren’t – because you can’t be. There is no such thing as being a mess. There is no mould you have to fit into. You’re from the land of pot-bellied elephant-like Gods, and you doubt your own divinity on account of confusion and a few minor physical asymmetries? “There is no great beauty without strangeness in proportion.” Remember?
Oh yeah I feel like the darn Mona Lisa already! They should hire you as a lobbyist for little Bush you know. Moving on… what’s your point? I gotta have faith in you to get through this crap?
Correctamundo!
Keep Fonzie out of this. Fine. I’ll try it. What else you got?
Step 3:
This here my friend – this is the toughest step in the entire process, and you’re going to have to do this many times, because it is inevitable that you’ll fail the first 100 hundred times. You’ll wake up one day and think it’s all too pointless. And the coward that you are, you won’t even quit when you realize. You’ll drag it through until either it’s done or you can’t go through with it any more. Remember college? Remember your job? It’s going to be tough. But nobody said it was easy to be a God.
There. I knew it. There had to be a catch. You make my life miserable! It’s you! Nobody else! Why do I have to be a God when the rest of them on the outside can be total nin-cum-poops and get away with it? Why can they live all their lives happily not being Gods? Why can’t my life be as easy as theirs?
Who told you they don’t think of themselves as Gods? Remember all the stuff about God being inside all of us – they believe in that God. Their lives are easy huh? How come you end up being agony uncle to half of them you meet then? You’re not in their head. And likewise, they aren’t in yours. So you have to be your own God. You may end up being just like everyone else in every other way except for one – you are in your head and not them. Now stop wasting my time and find me a purpose.
Being the next LeBron James.
You’re 25. Plus, do you really want to work that hard you lazy bum?
Writing books, making movies, running a chain of restaurants.
Alright. Let’s see how long you believe you can keep chasing these dreams.
Start working on the book immediately. Nothing’s stopping you from that. The movies will follow – we’ll make a movie out of the book, and yes, the book will be better. Once you have the money for the chain of restaurants, we’ll think about it.
Plan B: Be a good investment banker like everybody else so that you can afford to buy shoes for the missus.
Methinks I got Plan B covered ya know. I’m feeling pretty good about that. And the book, yes… I’ll get started on ideas for it. Thanks man, this was a lot of help.
Anytime Me, anytime – daddy’s always got time for his little girl.
(Laughs. Coughs “A**hole”)
Step 4:
Lights on the stage get dimmer slowly until there is darkness again.
The Forbidding Frigidity of The Frugal Fetish
In a land far far away, men's pardonable obsession with material abundance shines like the edges of polished cutlery for as far far as the eye can see. Warmth eludes the inhabitants of this land far far away, even at the square intersection of their times, where they collect in multitudes to be in isolation together.
The city lies trapped in endless corridors of concrete and steel gripping each other with the same force that brings together a man and woman in a poorly enacted love scene. The great heights of the steel corridors stand testament to all that is unaccommodating and all that constricts in the hearts of men.
The perfectly carved out shapes fail to elicit passion from the stoned gazes that fall upon them. The echoing emptiness of a glass half full fills the corridors and reflections without origins reflect themselves endlessly from the surrounding emptiness.
In this sea of emptiness, I expect to be lost, to inflict upon myself the pain of wealth. A wealth, I know belongs with the ignorance that created denominations of men's potential, will, and freedom. In this land, I expect to be far far away.
It Rained in Delhi
Every bit of concrete melted into the street,
The sky's reflection in the puddle at my feet.
The wind howling back at my silent face,
Dissolving my sins at its own pace.
With a powerful stroke of nature's brush,
The earth bled its greyness in a gush.
Until nothing remained, but the grey,
And the boundaries all just faded away,
A suffocating man's last breath of air,
Cured my hope beyond repair,
For even when the rain insists,
The dryness in my eyes persists.
January 23, 2007
In spite of several whole-hearted attempts to go to sleep, I haven’t been too successful. I left work early today to catch up on some much-needed sleep, but somehow by the will of some invisible and malicious force, here I am – a witness to Mick Jagger and David Bowie dancing in the street. And just when I was beginning to enjoy it, by the evil designs of Bill Gates the damn Media Player insists on having me listen to fever dog which only reminds me that I'm nowhere near almost famous yet.
Since I haven’t done much work today at work, I intend to run a small research survey among inhabitants of
Me: Will tomorrow be a happy day?
Coin: No
Me: Will I get to go home on time?
Coin: Yes
Me: Will I want to go home?
Coin: No
Me: Will I ever know what I want before I lose it?
Coin: No
Me: Is God bald?
Coin: Yes
Me: Will this headache go away?
Coin: No
Me: Is there a point to this?
Coin: Yes
Me: Do I already know everything I need to know?
Coin: Yes
Me: Can I be a rock star?
Coin: No
Me: Do I owe anyone an apology?
Coin: No
Me: Does anyone owe me one?
Coin: Yes
Me: Am I completely incompetent at everything I do?
Coin: No
Me: Will I ever be able to make my own decisions?
Coin: No
Me: Can I be someone else?
Coin: No
Me: Do I enjoy being depressed?
Coin: Yes
Me: Do I ever really like any of the people around me?
Coin: Yes
Me: Then will they stop being so irritating?
Coin: No
Me: Am I crazy?
Coin: Yes
Me: Are my parents proud of me?
Coin: No
Me: Do my friends really like me?
Coin: No
Me: Does God exist?
Coin: Yes
Me: Am I God?
Coin: Yes
Me: Does anything ever matter?
Coin: Yes
Me: Is everything you’ve told me above true?
Coin: No
Me: Is any of it true?
Coin: Yes
Me: Should I believe all of it to make life easier?
Coin: Yes
There we go people of the world. The coin has spoken.
Note to Readers: Please do try this at home. As luck would have it, the Coins are as believable as anything else.
Sunshine
There are some things that you imagine you just can't compete with. Some extremes you never thought existed. It’s those ideals you build in life. Sometimes you meet these imposters, so miraculously good at their tricks, that you give up all hope of finding any imperfections in them. Given enough amount of time, sure you'll see that its just a trick, and sure you'll have an excuse to not live up to your ideals again, just because nobody's perfect, but for those few moments you are bound to worship in your heart the perfection with which some people imitate or reject your ideals.
The obvious question is—who let the cat out of the bag? How did they know what your ideals looked like? That’s something you’ll probably never know. Fortunately some of these imposters, you’ll only know for those few magical moments. That’s what keeps the ideals alive I guess.
It’s scary though – what they’ll inspire you to do within those moments, with those tricks of theirs. I know one has me chasing dreams of brilliance. Another has me testing the limits of my patience. Another has me hating the entire corporate world. Another had me mistrusting my judgment. And yet another makes me think I’m worth something. And a recent addition to those few, is sunshine. God knows what sunshine will have me do. All I know is, it’s been six months since I’ve written anything, and here I am, completely sober, mumbling to myself about this new ideal I’ve found.
I may one day, learn to ignore these imposters, but until then I will continue to fear them, love them, hate them, be inspired by them, imitate them, suspect them, scrutinize them... No event, no memory, no sight, no sound, no experience has been more powerful in shaping my desires, my dreams, my self-image, me... than these imposters.
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