This is intended to be an intellectual blog post, intended for the advancement of my own intellect, which has increasingly been neglected. Except, perhaps for those 5 hours of each day. But drama in college life has become so much larger than the actual purpose! Who can concentrate on media democracy or Marxism when SHE actually SAID THAT and then HE said WHAT and then THEY ALL went WHERE and SAW WHOM.
Omg. Lol lol.
But seriously, I am an intellectual person. With sober thoughts on mankind and society and with....knowledge.
What happened to me?
I used to be the twelve year old kid who could spout info on the entire Mughal Dynasty on our trip to Fatehpur Sikri. Honest. The guide was astounded when I asked him questions about Gauharara. (She was the last daughter of Shah Jahan and her mother Mumtaz Mahal who died while giving birth to her.)
Well, I've been starting to analyse my intellectual deterioration and see if it's really something to worry about. Lemme think. I listen in class. I read the paper. I read..books..when I can. I must admit a fixation with my iTunes. And well, Zoom TV.
Okay, I don't know anything about stock markets. And my knowledge of psychology is pretty much limited to Visual Analysis and Aesthetics class. Which I pay full attention to, by the way.
Sir: See, if you agree with these theories, you're a Freudian philosopher. If you don't agree to these theories....
Class (in unison): ...You're a fraud philosopher!
As you can see, I learn a lot from my classmates. Such as Aeroplane.
Me: What was that stuff sir said about Freud?
Aeroplane: Freud? Who? Pink Freud?
So you can't really blame me for questioning my state of brain. I used to be the quiz-girl, me and Ess used to ace all the quizzes when we got together. Of course he was and always is the encyclopaedia (not dusty and a little more colourful though. He he.) but I wasn't so bad. I think. I hope.
What should I do to change this state of affairs?
-Read the Economic Times? (I left behind commerce in school, which is another century of life. No, no numbers please.)
-Ask Ess to fill my brain with facts. (No, I like talking to Ess about self issues. He puts things in perspective. When his blues and my blah moods collide, they just fade away!)
-Read Leo Tolstoy and Doy-shtov-sky. (Give me Ann Brashares' teenage yet delicate, non soppy prose. Give me Paolo Coelho's simplicity. Mario Puzo, even.)
Hmm, that I don't mind. When I write, I feel like I'm capable of thinking. Like I'm alive. It's like when the pen touches paper (Or when my fingertips hit the keyboard), it's like a pinprick or a splash of cold water, waking me up.
Till I can attempt to finish 'Atlas Shrugged', I think this should do.