Brief Update on What Constitutes a Pain, Flaffily Speaking (Or Missives From the Trenches)

Grad school is a pain.



Orientation is a pain.



Life is dangerously set on the brink of being a pain.



"So much to do, so little time" is a saying coined by someone who was definitely a pain. I can just sense it (I have a theory that most sayings can give a very nice peephole into the character of the coiner but more on that one later).



I'm sorry I haven't blogged more :( since that is one of the few things that right now wouldn't be classified a pain.



BM, pliss to accept the spaces in lieu of words and I promise a brilliant new post as soon as the weekend swings around.

Song-people

I have a theory. No, no, don't roll your eyes at me. This is *not* about philosophy or religion. Promise.

I was going to give this long intro with like this amazing analogy and some remarkably subtle word play. Y'know a clever paragraph which would just open your eyes to my amazing intelligence as well as my incredible scope of general knowledge. But I (as usual) underestimated the power of laziness (and also how exhausting moving house can be; there! I have a legit excuse). So: songs are people. That's it. That's my theory. And what's more, I have an exemplary line of defense. (This btw is the new style of this blog. Cut and dried, which is a phrase I always wanted to use but never ever managed to fit into a sentence properly. Also cos it's really hard to get a context where you can say cut and dried and I'm kinda unsure as to whether it's cut and dried or cut and dry or cut and right, and one doesn't want to say one of it and have everyone else stare in incomprehension and so forth. Something tells me I'm losing my c. and d. style already. *sigh*)

Take it Easy : Obviously he's like the chilled out guy whom every girl in high school had a crush on. The one who had at least 3 girlfriends at any point in time. The one with the fast, noisy bike, which every girl wanted a ride on. Without the black leather jacket, the smoking and the sleazy hagged face (that comes later, no?). Ok, maybe with the leather jacket after all.

Wild World : The nice ex. The one who was perfect. The one whom all your gfs envied. The one who thought you were perfect. Who always said the right thing. Who always adjusted his mood to yours. The one whom you dumped, cos let's face it, perfect is boring (besides being awfully intimidating)! But everytime you hear about him from someone else, or when you hear a song that reminds you of him, or turn the TV on and see the re-run of a movie you saw with him, you have to smile.

Sleep : The hot desi guy. Very hard to find. So that when you *do* meet him, you almost can't believe your eyes. No way! you're thinking. The delicious guy who knows how to shake a martini just so, and uses phrases like "social constipation", with that slightest of desi accents. The guy whom you can imagine slipping into.. ummm.. anything with.

Two Steps Behind : The psycho ex. We all know this one. The one who seemed so caring. Who thought about you all the time. Sent you those cute texts the minute you left him saying he missed you. The one who'd let you go out with your gfs on a girl's night out, but would call you every now and then to check on you (that gets old really fast). The one who was so sensitive it was actually sinister. The one it's almost impossible to get outta your head. The one who's always *sigh* two steps behind.

The Great Beyond: Me, 2005.

Wonderwall: The guy with the charming laidback attitude to life. With those irresistible dimples when he smiles. The curly hair that looks like it's never combed. The guy you want to take charge of. Straighten out his life. The one with all the talent that can't be just left to rot. The one with the little boy good looks. The one who gives clueless a good name.

Something about the Way You Look Tonight (I wanted to get the Ella version for it but Youtube seems to draw up a blank :( ) : The Goodbye Again Ingrid Bergman. Seemingly happy and sophisticated but hurt and vulnerable inside. The woman of the world type person. I'm secretly awed by such people. Make me breathless.
(sorry about the shocking typo-it can't even be called a typo- but blame it on the shocking effect of pop culture :)..still couldn't get Ella, but managed a PC, which isn't bad; also realized that I'd written this wrong this morning and came online just to change it-I think I might be addicted to this blog cos I'm *not* obsessive compulsive!!!)

Photographs : The guy who used to smoke in school, just for a gag (I know, I thought about the gag-fag wordplay thing and then decided against it, you'll be happy to know). There were rumors that he did drugs. The immensely popular guy. When his uncle died, some kids in school said *meaningful* things about it. But you never believed any of 'em. Cos he *seemed* like such a nice guy. Always a smile for you. And a word. That made you feel so special. And happy. And made you smile yourself. The one whose now five times bigger, jobless and broke but when you see him at high school reunions and he smiles at you you can still see a little of that charm somewhere wayyyyyyyyy back in his eyes.

Iris : Six words. Your mother warned you about him.

Why Does it Always Rain on Me : Me, now.

See? See, what I mean? They're all people!!! Gimme any song and I'll give you a person (that's a promise, not a threat; even though it remarkably resembles one).

As a bonus, a fun exercise (to see how many of the stellar principles I used in these examples you've actually imbibed). Guess the personality of this one.

(I also have a killer corollary that albums are families - y'know complete with mum-dad-sis-bro-annoying aunt-balding uncle analogies. But that requires more examplification and zere is no time, peoples *looks under the bed frantically for time, that little idiot*.)

Gosh, I'm so glad that I've finally got a theory that I *know* noone will argue with me about (*gulp* Something tells me I shouldn't have said that. Fine, fine! Bring it on *faces the firing squad with grim anticipation*).

Note: To someone who's been asking me for more songs, click on the links :). They're all beauts and I have 'em only on iTunes. Even The Way You Look Tonight (even if you roll your eyes and say "That old song").

Update: Over at the 55s, we've started some Song-55s. Check them out.

Misery, Love Thyself

She looked at him and smiled.

"Whatcha smiling for this time?", he asked idly.

"You make me smile", she said. "Just thinking of you makes me smile."

"Yeah, right!" in amused disbelief. He knew this game. "But you know what they say about people who smile too often", he continued, half grinning.

"That they're mad?" she asked.

A vigorous shake of his head.

"They're happy?"

Another negative shake.

"Maybe only mad people are happy anyway." She knew he'd find that as amusing as she did.

He smiled back.

"They're amused too easily?", the third guess always had to be a good one.

"Nuh-uh."

"So, tell me already."

"They say people who smile the most are often the saddest. That the smile hides their sorrow and lets them pretend they're happy for just a while."

She smiled wryly. Close enough to home to make her wince.

"But what about the people who're really truly sad and don't smile?" she objected.

"I suppose unabashed wallowing in sorrow comes with it's own special joy, no?".

Homo sapiens (var elevatoricus)

Yeah, yeah, this is one of those cute posts. Y'know the sort that say something that the author thinks is absolutely freaking hilarious, and the reader thinks is bilge. The author knows that the eventual reader (if any) is going to think it's blige. And therein lies the irony of it, cos in the light of the comforting knowledge that the hypothetical reader has prejudged the yet-to-be-written post as bilge, the author increases the cute factor of the post with reckless abandon. Such is life.

I could write a dissertation on this pressing topic (outlined below) but time presses (even I have to work sometimes, courtesy : Dragon Lady aka Boss-Woman who is *not* N). As the more erudite of my hypothetical readers know, there are only two types of people in the world, the ones who start sentences that go 'there are only two types of people in the world' and the ones that don't (whosoever names the source of the quotation shall be named Honorary Flaffee of the week forthwith). I am unabashedly one of the former category and I present you *ta-da* A (Sorely Needed) Dissertation on The Elevator People.

A much-studied (and much-in-need-of-studying) sub-population of the Human spp, the Elevator People have recently been the subject of much controversy and heated debate. If you've missed the documentaries presented by National Geographic and Discovery (yeah, while you were sitting around watching American Idol, other people were trying to Save the World), below is a quick look at the salient characteristics and sub-groups of this sub-population.

The 'Nonchalant' Wall-propper: Easily identified by the studied casual elegance with which he/she props up the elevator walls. Normally spotted with one leg crossed behind the other (it is believed by many behavior scientists that this stance conveys added nonchalance, thereby making the particular Wall-propper uber-nonchalant; there is some discord among scientists as to whether the uber-nonchalant population can be classified as a separate Type unto itself; many petty, pedantic debates have featured this bone of contention in the haute circles of behavior scientists the world over; of course no conclusion has been reached). Some specimens have been observed pursing their lips, as if on the verge of whistling. While unconfirmed reports claim to have heard individuals of this type whistle, popular opinion holds that this is an Old-Wives' Tale. Persons who fall under this category are normally observed to be the last to leave the elevator when it reaches their designated floor. It is believed that said persons believe that this increases nonchalance of their general attitude but certain other types of The Elevator People disapprove of this character trait of the N.W.P.

The Babbler: This group of persons is characterised by their nervous Elevator-Chatter*. The population distribution of this type is believed to be largely geographic segregated. Certain urban habitats in North America and South India have an abundance of this group. However no first-hand data regarding their distribution in other parts of the globe is available (all contributions to the survey can be posted in the comments section herein). An uncanny observation is the complete lack of this species in the United Kingdom (aka Britain). It is commonly believed that the population was driven to extinction in those cold climes by the frigid stares of the Self-appointed-Elevator-Police (expounded on below).

The Self-Appointed-Elevator-Police: This group is often feared by the more timid Babblers and N.W.Ps. Identifiable even to the casual observer by the circle of empty space within which they stand, unmolested by Elevator-chatter and other associated Elevator-Awkwardness-Phenomena (E.A.P). They have on occasion been known to turn towards any offending Elevator-person (the cause for offence including, but not exclusive of, eating, chattering, looking around or sometimes just existing) and 'fix' them with their glimmering eye (not unlike the Ancient Mariner). A frigid aura pervades the elevator when one of this group enters, and hapless victims have been known to feel suffocated in their presence. Persons of this group often make irritated noises (along the lines of tch! or tsk! or sometimes even muttered imprecations) when the elevator stops at more than 2 floors en route to their own level of destination.

The Keen-Observer-of-Human-Nature: Perhaps the most disconcerting of the Elevator people, these specimens tend to critically observe all fellow occupiers of a given elevator. Unnamed sources swear that these individuals take mental notes on the behavior of all fellow-elevatorees. The author is unable to confirm these wild rumors. The members of this group tend to give each fellow-elevatoree dispassionately equal thought and consideration (unless one of the fellow-elevatorees is a certifiably hot specimen of the opposite sex). No member of this group is approachable or amenable to questions regarding their behavior (or so it is claimed by most behavioral scientists), and as such form a relatively unstudied group (in the author's personal opinion this is because of the behavioral scientists' disdain for more amateur members of their profession).

The I'm-Just-Going-to-Pretend-that-it's-not-awkward-to-be-shut-into-a-small-box-with-complete-strangers Category: The last major category on record has a name that is untypically self explanatory. They are a peculiar bunch recognizable by their fixed stares (normally glued to some inanimate part of the elevator), their slight, embarrassed smiles (though the cause for their amusement/embarrassment is hard to identify), and their crab-like sideways movements away from all other animate portions of any given elevator. They tend to hunch further and further into themselves especially in crowded elevators, sometimes to the extent of causing concern to the other temporary inhabitants of said elevator. Self-effacing in the confines of the lift, they are often confident, outspoken members of the community in the outside world. The cause for the change in their behavior pattern within the sacred boundaries of the elevator is the focus of most research in this interesting branch of elevatorology.

As mentioned earlier by the author (who is a very busy person), even a cursory mention of the more minor groups, as well as more detailed discussion of the major ones listed above, is outside the scope of this document. However, the author would like to stress the importance of this branch of psychology as a field of study. Detailed investigation might be a godsend to the Society for the Prevention of Elevator Crimes (SPEC, who are btw open to donations that will help further this research, so the author beseeches all right-minded hypothetical readers to sally forth and pour money into their coffers, you could also post cheques and any potential contributers please e-mail author for the postal address) as well as other unnamed organisations (that are believed by some erstwhile individuals from Interpol to be fronts for Al-Qaeda; this is predictably pooh-poohed by all the eminent elevatorologists who stand strangely unanimous on this subject). A public petition to Bush, GW, to increase funding for this intriguing area of bio-mechanical research will soon be appended to this site. Please watch this space (actually the space above; but also this space if the hypothetical reader so wishes).

*Elevator-chatter: A technical term used to define the inane remarks on the weather, the crops, football, work and String Theory that are indulged in by members of this group. It is believed that the chief obstacle and clumsiness of Elevator-chatter lies in the necessity of either the addresser or the addressee having to exit at varying and normally unknown time-points.