Friday, 28 September 2007


Sunday Sept 23rd - was thinking about something - letting my mind flow -

One - analysing why we don't help strangers - why do we feel icky when helping strangers/ volunteering - we don't mind giving money - that's easy - but lifting a hand is too hard. What if a friend of mine had a problem - say AIDS - I wouldn't hesitate to help him/her out - so why don't we do the same for strangers, be it a simple task, forget AIDS - strange - what separates our friends from strangers - the people in mumbai who ignore others crying out for help and don't help them - they have firends whom they help out regularly - so why not strangers? - interesting - is there a part of our brain that controls this - is it psychological rather than neurological? - nature vs. nurture?

Two - Orkut - some people have a close network of friends whom they talk to regularly - others have a large network of acquaintances whom they know just casually - what works out best? - do I really need to send an invite out to someone who I might or might not have greeted and who might or might not have greeted me while we passed each other in a corridor when working at a job I hated 4 years ago and who might not even remember my name and hardly care one way or another? - need to analyse this further...


Saturday, 22 September 2007

Book Review - The Picture of Dorian Gray

A young man, beautiful and charming beyond measure, innocent and unconscious of his own beauty and the effect it has on people. He meets a man, Lord Henry, who makes him aware of his physicality and especially - its short shelf live. This opens up a new world to him. He fears aging. He fears losing his 'good looks'. He wishes that he could stay young forever while his painting ages in his place.

His wish is granted.

With the gift of youth, he embarks on a life of hedonism, and selfish pleasure. He knows that people get hurt because of him. He doesn't care; even if he does, he tries to drown out these memories, and the parts he played in them, with even more pleasure seeking. All this while, his painting not only bears the brunt of age but the brunt of his sins as well. It becomes, in effect, the conscience, the soul, that he lost a long time ago.