The Profound, the profane, and the personal

This is a long overdue post – I planned this around the beginning of this month, but went into recharge-mode (read: hibernation) as soon as I got home. But I’m back now, and all’s well with the world again. Yay.

Basically, this post is about three things I (had, back then) wanted to vent about. Which one is which, profound, profane or personal, is for you to figure out. In fact, its’ probably going to tell you something about your character, your approach to life – I would love to compare your reactions - but I’m too lazy to psychoanalyze them right now, at 3 AM (again!).

This is also a reeely long post. In my defense, it is basically three posts in one.

Firstly, I’m really glad someone (in my opinion, J.S.MILL!!!! But no need to go into my own issues reg. him, for the sake of non-law readers J) once upon a time decided to bestow all of us with rights. Seriously. The idea that there are some things which are out-of-bounds for me, which, no matter how irritating a person gets, and he/she cannot be deprived of these rights. Because, really, I don’t want to have the responsibility of depriving you of your rights, though I’m not too far from actually doing so.

That was probably a little confusing. What I mean to say is, there are times when I am *this close* to losing my patience with people – slapping sense into them, or shaking them up HARD. In other words, if you are going to frisk me in public, and make me turn out my pockets, (if you had not had rights) I would have certainly done serious damage to you.

Of course, this is a logical fallacy, because if they didn’t have rights, then I should have no moral issue with depriving them of the same. But I doubt if I would ever want to carry with me the responsibility of slapping someone. So, I’m glad they have rights, and I have a legitimate reason to not carry through with my instincts. To just sit back, and hope they eventually spontaneously-combust under the weight of their ignorance.

Now, we come to my second point. There are times when people make you feel sooo small, probably when they are itching to deprive you of your rights. (Yes, that does occasionally happen, even to me!) And this resolves the other great debate – Cats v. Dogs.

Why? Because the Dog is the one you would turn to, when you are feeling so small. It doesn’t matter that you’ve been a complete fool, that you’ve loused-up an important meeting/presentation/whatever; its’ still going to lick you and make you feel better. Cats are just not that altruistic. For the mere moral superiority of the actions of the dog, its worth loving and emulating. Therefore, in my book, being called a “dog” is not disparaging at all.

On the other hand, I know for a fact that much of the conventional stereotype o cats as cold and aloof is not fully substantiated in reality. If an animal finds its way up four floors, and selects the one specific room out of 25 on the floor, mews outside till the person opens up, all at 4 AM…that kind of changes forever your perception of that animal.

Nevertheless, if a ferocious mother-cat can scare the daylights out of a cowardly dog, then anything is possible in this world.

Finally, I painted my room!!!! I first painted the door, and laid the pain on waaay too thick. But that was a good thing, because I still have loads of extra paint, and the door now shines like a mirror. It’s a nice red – probably deep pink, but then I’m colour blind. No more gagging-yellow!!!!

Then, I didn’t manage to clean the brush properly, so when I attempted the wardrobe doors (also had been painted in the yellow, so…) the brush was all stiff and pretty nearly useless. No matter. We are a fearless and careless lot. I went right ahead and scooped the paint onto the door, the best I could.

One door now has a nice air-brushed look to it. The other one came out a bit thicker, almost globb-ier. I don’t yet fully know how they’ve turned out, after they’ve dried. But worst case, I’ll paint over it, or take the turpentine to it.