#11 Steps To Eternal Bliss by Another Douche

We are driven by our fears. Everything in human civilization could be traced as an attempt to overcome fear.

funnel that filter everything.

We all have pain that we hide, a part of us that we just aren’t ready to share with the world.

It can be difficult at times. Even impossible. But being true to ourselves, it is always easy in the end.

So what if we suffer? Aren’t our sufferings a part of our life?

Life is an amalgamation of everything. Sad. Happy. Despair. Anger. And whatnot. Life is life.

Then why do we always chase happiness? Isn’t that a concept too?

Come to think of it, what is happiness?

Accepting some hypothetical series of hormonal impulses? Because believe me, that’s all their is to satisfaction. A surge of feel good hormones.

Everything comes with an expiration date. And the only absolute truth is death. I’m not saying that we should simply stop living, and wait for death.

I’m still not that gloomy.

But why? Why do we chase a hypothetical when in reality, it is never possible. Something will always trump whatever pleasure, or happiness, you are experiencing right now.

There is no such thing as pure bliss. It’s only accepting our tale of life.

That’s all there is to it, accepting things for what they are.

Now, before you think I’m a negative speaker, let me extend it like this. Can’t my words, accepting the situation as it is, be used as a driving force? I’m ambitious, so rather than worrying that I’ll never achieve the greatness I so dearly wish for, how about I accept it, and let it fuel me?

One step at a time.

Rather than chasing the high of an eternal happiness, a satisfaction, why not accept the misery of ambition?

I sound like someone who just took LSD, or maybe some other narcotics.

It’s all the over the place, I guess. But that’s how rambles work, don’t they?

Actually, life lessons work that way too. There is no fucking manual.

#11 steps to eternal bliss by another fucking douche.

Life is life. One step at a time.

Failed Experiments

Today, I’m running short on time. I’ve been in the lab since nine in the morning and, most likely, it will extend till two in the night.

But I’ve to write. Not because of my commitment to write everyday, but because if I don’t, I won’t be able to sleep.

Few days back, I wrote a post titled, “The Greatest Teacher.” In the mentioned post, I talked about the importance of failure.

Today, I’ve another write-up, another unoriginal post. We, as scientists, correction, certain people take offence when we call ourselves scientists. So, as PhD scholar working extensively with different aspects of molecular biology, I often run into troubles with my experiments.

Actually, nine out of ten times, I either get a negative result, or some other form of unexpected results. And when we get that, as researchers, we use the fancy term of troubleshooting. It is nothing but working around, or correcting, our mistakes.

I do get lucky, every now and then, and get positive results too. But as much as I’ve learned because of those negative, or unexpected results, I never came close with positive results.

Sure, I feel happy, actually elated, when I get that positive PCR band, or a perfectly cloned DNA. But if it wasn’t for all those unexpected clones, PCR amplicons, or sequencing, I wouldn’t be the same researcher I am today.

Shit, I wrote too much again. Damn, I can’t shut up, can I?

Well, there you have it, another researcher praising his failed experiments. Actually, I guess I am the only one.

Scientists, sorry researchers, take offence if you say they can make mistakes.

My Ritual Before I Start Writing

I always have to give myself a pep talk before I start writing. Every time. 

Every God damn time.


So, you’re wondering what’s the pep talk, right? Well, here it is.

It’s OK to write the way you are writing. After all, you are writing for yourself.

It seems to be the holy grail of pep talk aimed at writers, right?

Writers write for themselves.

But come on, let’s not lie. What fun would it be to craft stories if no one read them?

Today, I was reading Sherman Alexie’s The Absolutely True Diary of a Part Time Indian.

Side note, give it a read. You’ll thank me later.

The point of referencing the book is this, in the story, the narrator is a fourteen-year-old boy, and that’s why this book is brilliant. The writing style was true to its narrator, not the writer. I know, I know, it sounds confusing, but hear me out.

What’s the first advice any creative writing teachers gives? Show. Don’t tell. Right?

Now, tell me this, when you were fourteen, and you used to write, did you use to write elegant description of trees, roads, houses?

If you replied yes, then stop, don’t read any further. This post isn’t for you. Sorry.

But if you said no, well, I made my point.

A straight dive into the chaos. Once again.

Sherman actually wrote from the point of view of a fourteen-year-old. Man, that’s some crazy shit.

If you ever read the entire bibliography of an author, you’ll see there worrying style evolves with time.

It’s natural. Change is the only constant. Like death’s the only absolute truth.

The point being, we, as budding writers, are so fixated over some textbook definition of creative writing. We are so worried that we miss the whole point of writing. To live life twice. Once with our senses, and again with our words.

Do you really need me to spell it out for you?

Ah, idiot.

Write whatever comes natural to you. The rest is for the editors.

via Daily Prompt: Finally

The Greatest Teacher

We all say success breeds confidence. Sure, it’s true. But what would be the point of advocating something you yourself don’t believe in.

I’m not saying I don’t believe in success. But again, I’m always focused on negatives rather than positives, so there is that.

Do you know the greatest teacher?

It might be success. But if success breeds confidence, it also breeds ignorance. Ignorance for our shortcomings.

We are human and we are flawed.

The greatest teacher?

The greatest teacher is failure. After all, we are humans so we are bound to make few. Well, maybe a lot more than few.

The point is, we learn more from failing than we learn by winning.

Actually, there is no such thing as winning or losing. By the technical terms, if we win, we win. But if we fail, we learn.

And I believe that’s the biggest lesson anyone can ever learn.

Almost always.

Never be ashamed if you reach your destination later than others. You reached where you were meant to be and that’s all that matters.

It isn’t the destination but the journey which is beautiful. Destination is the end. And no one, in the history of mankind, ever liked the end. Which is why each destination sparks the quest for another. And while we are on that, there are no ends. Only moments. Moments from where we decide to look forward and backwards.

Civil War

Just to drift away and fade into an ever-sretching white light,

Away from doubts,

And into the bliss,

From the life I have started to despise.

There is a hidden strength among my shivering words,

Words that shy as they leave my stuttering lips.

A strength to wander and explore the unknown.

To drift into the ever-changing whiteness of the unknown,

That question,

The life altering confession,

Which I’m shying from making to my already aware heart,

Is a game of my pragmatic mind.

A mind, whose soul purpose is to guide me in this world of uncertainty.

Whom should I deny the benefit of doubt?

My mind,

My heart,

In a struggle for power,

They are in a continous tug of war.

This,

This is my

Civil war.

In Silence Do We Make Confessions That Chaos Creates

In silence do we make confessions that chaos creates. 

It is neither a random line, nor a pathetic attempt to fit the daily prompt into an unrelated post. It’s one of the lines I wrote which I still love.

It’s been a while. Since I’ve tried my hands at prompts. I could give many reasons, but let’s skip it.

Let’s decipher that line, shall we?

Pain is addictive. Does it seem random or would you say it’s a plausible extension to the first line?

Yeah, I’m asking you, my silent friend.

See, I’m one of those crazy soul who will always choose rain over sunlight. So, I’m always a bit biased.

The line we are talking about, it had a simple thought process behind it. When we introspect, we debate all our faults, within our head, and we do them in a moment of internal silence.

Chaos. The faults of our little life. The things that could have been. A forgotten kiss. A misplaced emotion. Or anything else that tickle your fantasies.

The point is, there are thousands little steps we avoid taking. Thousand little things we deny because we believe we are not good enough for them.

We associate the value of things with the amount of pain we had to suffer for them. If you had a good fight, you’re supposed to have a good scar, isn’t that the metaphor?

Isn’t that the hero’s quest?

In case my little attempt, or lack thereof, seems misguided, let me tell you this. It isn’t.

Sometimes, profound realizations occur in simple moments. Without any associated suffering.

Why do you have to experience distance from your family to realize their importance? Don’t you know, without any doubt, family is the one thing that always matters?

You do, right?

Profound realization without any associated pain.

Don’t be like me. Please. Do not make confessions in silence. Beauty lies within simplicity.

Layers, my dearest. Everything consists of layers.
Take that one step you’ve been avoiding. Shatter the confession you’ve been making in silence.

My wings of life were long forgotten,

Burned and smoked.

My thoughts, they are blanketed by bitter nights.

I muddy the wings of despair I never chose,

Yet I take a flight through the burning sky.

Don’t make me use my sentence enhancers, all right? Take that little step.