(Purists must excuse my split infinitives, if any.)
Here are five reasons why I haven’t written exclusively about myself in my blog so far -
- I can never think of a suitable title for describing my bland (notice that this adjective is only a mode of speech, a pose) life. I have been struggling for a title for this post too.
- I diverge into too many off topics whenever I try to write about myself, to the point of being irritating.
- Anything I write about myself, if not narcissistic and megalomaniac, is so completely dull that I can’t for the life of me imagine why someone would be interested in reading it. And anyway I have only bad things to write about me.
- I can always write about my bad qualities attributing them to someone else.
- I don’t want to turn into a bloody exhibitionist.
So what prompted me to depart from my own rules? Is it a tragedy that I think the world should know about? Or is it a triumph I want to impress my blog readers with? May be it is to confess some terrible secret from my past that has been eating me up for years!
I just erased my Computational Physics assignment and that is all I want to talk about. Yeah, the disk space ran out (may be it was already full, didn’t think of checking it from my remote comp) while I was editing my program, so that when I tried to save it (I was done with the program itself, the only thing left being the instruction to write the outcomes to a file), it failed and due to some weird logic in Linux (Debian), it erased the original file itself, thank you very much.
I was not upset, because I remembered having taken a backup sometime back. My backup, however, turned out to be the version in Python (basically, I was rewriting the whole program in C after Python turned out to be damn too slow).
I was still not upset, because I remembered the sysadmin telling me that a backup of the files was taken everyday at midnight. After working on it for a week, I had not touched my program in the last two days, which meant that a complete copy was lying somewhere in the darkness of the backup storage.
Then it dawned on me. The file was in Aux1 folder, which was local to the computer I was using, which meant no backup was ever taken of that erased file.
That was a moment to panic.
But my first reaction was one of sheer optimism. I immediately turned to the monitor to start converting my Python program to C. A lot of people would have said that it was not particularly a bright idea, and they would have been right in saying so. For one thing, there is no dynamic memory allocation to arrays in C (yeah I know about malloc, but I didn’t exactly have the time (deadline in 12 hours) to write codes to deal with such issues), which meant that I’ll have to code carefully looking for one-off error in array boundaries. Okay, the list goes on, and I don’t think the reader wants to know much about that.
I finally managed though. I copied B(eli)’s program (something he claimed he had been hinting all the while) and made all sorts of minor superficial altercations (with his help), making sure that the compiled programs had very different sizes. But, of course, I had no time to incorporate all those minute improvements my original program contained.
Since I couldn’t risk missing the shuttle to the class next day, I had to stay awake the whole night, and that’s how I am writing this post, at 6 in the morning. I got bored of switching through the channels in the television.
I should mention this movie I had a glimpse of. It’s called Dahleez – Raj Babbar, Jackie Shroff and Meenakshi Seshadri. There was this song, something about someone being young and in love and with a tune on his lips and roaming around with a light heart in a bright world. Anyway, Meenakshi Seshadri wore a three-piece that was simply awesome. The skirt was strikingly designed with a mixture of dark and bright colours dominated by Red. It wasn’t intricately designed, it was designed to bring out its striking combination of colours. The top was red, and plain for my tests. However, she had this beautiful and long scarf (not a duppatta, a scarf as worn by the Scouts and Guides) on it that matched with the skirt. It was lovely. She was very lovely too, but I always felt she had a very bad hair style.
I’ll attribute this fascination for the three-piece dress to my lack of sleep.
The movie was bad, as usual. A(shis)h assures me that the movie is set around 1985, during the terrorist movements for Khalistan (It finally led to the assassination of Indira Gandhi (following operation bluestar), then the Prime Minister of India, which in turn prompted the Anit-Sikh Riots of 1984, which in its turn prompted the bombing of Kanishka, which was the the single deadliest terrorist attack involving aircraft till 9/11. All of this goes on to show how short the human life is to keep hating each other. By the way, these wikipedia articles contain many factual inaccuracies and exaggerations.).
Anyway, coming back to the point, the movie used the backdrop of the Khalistan Movement way too cheaply and absurdly. For example, why couldn’t the hero keep the crucial appointment with the heroine (and had to rely on his intimate friend who with an evil smile tore up the crucial note from the hero to the heroine. why? because the hero had knocked him out in a boxing match earlier in the movie with two amateurish punches.)? Because, two random guys for no apparent reason thought it was a good idea to randomly open fire on random people, one of whom might be the hero’s mother.