The Herd and its Masters

I was trying to read into online behavior, which happens to be a part of the requirement of the job.

I largely realized then, of how little I actually understood others' behavior at all. And this, despite having consistently flaunted interest in behavioral sciences. Sad. Looks like I was too tightly confined in my own shoes all this while. While I enjoyed deriving from these theories, the explanations for my own questions and confusions, seems like I never looked beyond it to actually understand the aspirations, likes, needs and motivations of those who walk around. Or maybe I was too naive to think that if I understood my needs, aspirations and likes, I could actually generalize it to the whole of humanity! 

Yes, I think that was the problem all along - I thought the world actually ran the way I thought it did; that people functioned the way my mind did. I imagined for so long that everyone found twitter blah, read blogs to introspect, hated Facebook chat and never really got excited about dumb memes. But I was wrong. Big time wrong. Embarrassingly-off-the-mark wrong. 

And as I gear up to start understanding these things all over again in a new light, a voice in me warns me to be very very careful. Because with discovery of differences, comes the deep ingrained inclination to label. To judge. 

Some people actually play that silly game for hours on FB? Geez...Lame!

Folks actually follow and share every picture posted on McDonald's community page?? Get a life dude! 

People actually read these story-behind-Priyanka's-tatooes type stories and comment on it? *No words*

"When you truly care for someone, their mistakes never change your feelings because it's the mind that gets angry but the heart still cares" goes a photo/ post card. In my mind, that simply triggers a big *beep beep beep* for corniness. But apparently, thousands of people have shared it.

So big empathetic bang-head-on-the-wall lesson - People are different. Different. Different.*echoes*

There is this tendency to put myself on a higher pedestal and look down on the lower mortal activity happening on the internet - 'lower' simply because I don't adhere to it. Guilty as accused. And I can only hope I do not succumb to this in future.

But certain areas, I confess, I will never understand. It baffles me as to why people would become fans of brand pages, loyally answer every single brand promotion question and take part in contests whose creators surely had to have assumed that participants were downright stupid. It amazes me that it is possible to place your deep felt values and emotions on things like watches, cars, pizzas and malls. I know many do. Their online activities clearly give it off. 

I always naively thought that commercials have no effect at all. But recently, I realized what a fool I had been - for not having considered the point that marketers wouldn't have wasted millions of dollars without having this one fact assured. 

If everyone were like me, perhaps we would have still been an agricultural society. Or a communist one.

It sometimes makes me sad that the digital sphere has reduced commitment and pledging of loyalty to shallow terms. 'Click like to win a free coupon' or 'Tweet positive feedback with #brandname to become fan of the week'. From when did liking and becoming fans become a matter of commercialism? But people do it. Thousands and thousands of them. Should I call them stupid? I don't want to but whatever they are, they sure are lowering the standards of who a consumer really is. It is important we don't do this because only then would companies start to prod on more respectful ways of creating a platform for interaction.

I am not against business. I am not against marketing. But I hope it becomes a process of engagement rather than one of 'easy catch'  ; that it becomes one of bonding than wooing. A brand or product as it is - whether it is a packet of noodles or a bottle of deodorant - is no life changing gift on its own. But we have all had our moments of enjoyment/ entertainment/ utility because of them. After all, we are not living a neanderthal life. 

Maybe I am still a gullible young woman who still doesn't completely understand the politics of it all but I am hopeful that somewhere in this brand jungle, a little meaning and purpose can be created; and if I can be a part of it, I will try to grasp it by all means. Maybe it is all just another case of a desperate human need to imagine meaning where none exists at all but hey, a few cases among these have actually succeeded! :)

...........................................................................................................................................................

The author of this post will soon be joining a digital media consultancy and executing social media campaigns for clients. She never thought she will be making a living out of updating statuses on Facebook but also likes to confess to the readers on a serious note that it is a lot more challenging than that and that she is looking forward to it! :)

Transitions

While at the beach, have you tried taking all the water you can with both your palms cupped, bringing them together so that the water is not lost and carrying it carefully to the shore? More often than not, the water is all gone by the time you reach. Ironically, the tighter you try to hold, the faster it slips away. 

What is not ours; that which does not belong to us , always finds a way to slip away.

Sometimes you know that something precious is slipping right through your fingers and you try to cling on tight; clench the fist and not let go. But it is a futile exercise. You can only watch or desperately try to make it stay in vain. Is this how people will terminal illness feel? when you know that your life is slipping away, one second at a time, right before your eyes and no matter what you try, you can never live more than a second at once?

Is this how people in failing relationships feel? when you know that your man is slowly but surely losing interest and no matter what you buy, sing or surprise him with, the sands are slowly going down the clock? I think it is a very painful thing - watching something end. Being there in the final moments - when you can neither  run away nor change the inevitable.

Courtesy: http://fineartamerica.com/art/all/transition/all

I think that is how I am feeling too. As I see myself nearing the end of my stay in this beautiful campus, I find myself wishing to freeze time, go back in time or at least make time move slowly. But it won't. Perhaps I could slow down and take more of the surroundings in but the more I slow down, the more I realize that everything is going to change forever.

The worst thing about an impending change is the fact that you are going to change along with it too. Hence, a part of wanting to hold on is not just to the place but to my self too - the self I am right now, the self I was in this place. Because tomorrow, this self could change with the tide of time.

I wish I could always be a student. Not that I love academic work a lot or that I spend time every other day hanging out carefree with a bunch of batch mates. But life is promising when you are a student because life has not begun yet. So it remains that - a promise, a tomorrow, the future.

Student life feels like a waiting room, an incubation theatre. And it is so much fun sitting here and visualizing all the wonderful things that the real place out there will be like. You can keep playing the guessing game of how this life outside the campus is will turn out. You are still preparing. And preparing. And preparing for it. You can build castles of dreams on what you will finally do out there. It is a very comforting thing. I can go to bed every day, telling myself 'Hah, just wait till I start out someday... I can do this, I can be this, I can buy that and see that....'. And every day passes in exciting anticipation and speculation of this doing, being, buying and seeing which will happen at a point that is still far away.

But now that I am finally approaching that 'someday', I am scared. True, I have worked for a few months before but again, that was also a part of the preparation. I knew I would go back to campus. But I am there - end of the road. I need to enter the gates. 

I think I am scared of closure. Finality. I am scared of the disappointment to find a world not as good as what I had wanted. I am scared of getting lesser than what I had prepared myself for. I am scared of knowing - Okay, this is it. This is THE life that you had been curious about for so long. And this is going to be it from today till the end. And what if I go like - this is it?! Damn, this is it?

I don't want to settle down. I don't want finality. I think I want a life that is always incomplete, where there is always something missing. And then, I can look forward for a better tomorrow, and keep dreaming and planning and waiting for that unknown spectacular something which will complete the puzzle.

Thank you folks!

Thank god, a few people see pleasure in pain!

I was always told that human beings move away from what gives them pain and move towards pleasure - whichever is the greater benefit among the two always motivates their action. 

Sometimes, pleasure is easy to identify - a nice spa massage, the pride of driving an Audi, bunking boring lectures to escape to the theater, the pleasure of eating that yummy chocolate fudge and yes, being with people who make you laugh. 

Other times however, the pleasure component in an action might not be so obvious at first glance. This might perhaps explain why a few people suicide or risk fire to save children or protest against the government and bear hardships to save the environment. In all these instances, though it might seem that they are actually opting for pain and hardship, in actuality, the gratification that comes from feeling noble in fighting for a cause far outweighs the pain. 

I am grateful that this kind of indirect pleasure exists in pain. Otherwise, we would never have had revolutions, gotten freedom, enjoyed inventions that have painstaking hard work behind them, discovered new lands...but most importantly, many of us would have been without the company of wonderful people. 

Thank god a few people enjoy the illogical whims and melancholic bouts, they understand gloomy silences and actually find it intriguing, they are patient with the ever frequent concerns because they see the heart behind it, they sit to listen to boring philosophies either because they enjoy the meaning or they care too much to see us go without a listener, they keep their good news for later to let us vent out the bad news, they prefer long walks over loud parties, they are willing to go for days without fun because we don't feel like it. They, for god knows what reason, actually embrace those who were created by existence in a fit of bad temper. Thank god, a few people see pleasure in pain!

P.S - I am sorry if I am not able to comment on many of your blogs. I will be up and about soon! :) Keep writing because I devour and relish your posts, every time, without fail!

That bunch of 'em!

"When I left the theater after our last visit, it was raining outside, and I had forgotten my umbrella. I went back up to his dressing room. Jackson was still on the sofa, now thumbing his BlackBerry. I said, “Forgot my umbrella, Sam.” He did not look up. “A senior moment,” I said. Nothing. I shrugged and departed a second time, realizing that Jackson cut me out of his consciousness the moment I left him. His “emotional disconnect.” Jackson has an inability, or maybe a refusal, to show emotion easily in his life, which is curious, since he invests so much passion in the characters he plays. Maybe it’s as Travolta told me: Actors like himself and Jackson go see their own movies to see themselves invested onscreen with all those human qualities they fear they don’t possess themselves."


An excerpt from the NYT Magazine feature "How Samuel L. Jackson Became His Own Genre"


There is something...just something about really talented or accomplished directors and actors and fiction writers. They present some of the most complex and interesting character portraits that one can find. Either creating, visualizing, living and playing another persona, something which we all do not get to do everyday, does have its impact on the psyche or only those whose psyche was fashioned in those ways gravitate to these professions and do well.


There is a depth, a mystery, a kink and darkness in them that I will never tire of!

Fighting the Dark

Last night I suddenly woke up at three. I thought I heard noises. Not the normal ones. There was an infernal quality about them – bizarre tapping sounds that seemed to be of a devilish quality, with the vague discomforting silence between each tap only serving to increase the ghostly aura.

Tap-tap-tap-tap.

Perfect interval between each strike; sounds with a sober grievous quality, as though proclaiming the innate melancholy of the inevitable fate of the world; not so much a warning bell as a mourning.

Tap-tap-tap-tap

I woke up with beads of perspiration and a suddenness that I couldn’t quite ascribe to. The world around seemed eerily still. It wouldn’t have been a surprise even if I found out that nothing existed around me – and everyone else had disappeared. I looked out to confirm. Darkness, empty corridors and shut doors. It seemed an intentional wicket plot to have put an evil spell of infinite sleep on everything else, and then to wake me up for the awaited confrontation. I got back to the bed closing the door behind me. I feared confrontations.

Tap-tap-tap-tap

I could pass it off for a lizard’s tail swatting had it not been so loud. I was in half a mind to go back to sleep. Weird things do happen at the unearthly hour; it was best to let them be – perhaps there was a rich invisible life that sprang to life when human souls migrated to another realm and it simply happened to be an accident that I bounced back a bit too early.

I turned back and forth – but the realization was simply too strong to be pushed away – the sound was getting louder. Something was getting closer. It now seemed to be coming from a source right around me, nearer than a couple of meters away. A part of me was too scared to investigate. I simply wished to shrink away to invisibility; the sense of doom was closing in.

TAP-TAP-TAP-TAP

My heart was beating so loud, as if wanting to compete and shut down the noise of the ghastly taps that now seemed right over me. All I needed to do was open the eyes shut so tight and everything could end for good – the doubt, most of all. Yet, I didn’t want to let go – I didn’t want to face the inevitable; the unknown is sometimes better left unknown. The darkness of avoidance was more comforting than the light of truth. The darkness within provided solace from the darkness without.

For what seemed like hours, there was no more sound. Yet, I could feel the presence. It was waiting. Its breath was over me. Time was ticking. Gripping fear had spread to the entire being and become a state of transient existence. It could no longer exert its centralized vigor and was dying a slow death, bringing in its more painful counterpart, despondency.

Somewhere down, I started feeling anger at the inescapable tragedy of it all – for this mystique parasite to be spoiling my peace of mind. All I had to do was open the eyes and see the enemy.Perhaps I could even fight it. Perhaps I could escape and ask for help. Atleast, it was better than lying here having it right over me, poised to attack anytime. 

TAP-TAP- TAP- TAP

So loud! The pressure was killing. I responded this time. I opened my eyes.

                                            ***

After 10 long years of coma, Nancy finally responded to treatment and opened her eyes. Following a devastating car crash on Aug 15 2002, where she was in and  saw her husband and kids get killed, Nancy had slipped into a coma. Even after her physiological parameters got working, it was suspected that her fear to come back and face a world without her loved ones made her continue to embrace the darkness within. But finally, she opened her eyes.

Perhaps she will see that reality isn’t as dark or scary as she had imagined it to be. 

Why do we want 'Sad'?

I should have known it coming. I do not understand how I could have been so careless. I risked it and now I stand a victim of the trauma.

Why do we watch movies? Different people might give different reasons. A single person might have many reasons. For some, it is a form of escapism. For some, it is the pure entertainment from the art of story-telling. For some, it is an art - where elements of lighting, edits, colors and angles ought to blend in perfect symmetry to create an impact and share a message and the creation of the symmetry is what they study and enjoy. It is a scientific study of aesthetics for them.

Why do I watch a movie? I don't know - I think for me, it is bringing closer a world and characters that it is impossible for me to personally travel and experience. I love to know why people do what they do, how characters react in difficult situations, practices in different cultures and so on. I could of course read about it. Yet what might equal the visual phenomenon. And how many people am I going to get to know in my life? How many places will I travel to? How many strata of the society am I going to personally observe by being a part of?

In the light of these questions, movies come to fill a huge void in me. And this is where I have a huge problem because I don't want to visit the life of a man whose wife gets brutally murdered at the end. I don't want to spend two hours being a part of the love story which only gets unnecessarily shattered finally. These are not merely fictitious stories for me. They were the people and places and lives that I became a part of for two to three hours.

As a rule, I don't watch what you call the 'sad-ending' films. My friends know that. My movie buff brother and film supplier knows that. It is an understanding between us that he is not to give me any movie where the protagonist or his/her love interest or wife/husband die at the end. Why should the we want 'sad'?

He thinks I am being childish. I don't know. Maybe yes, I am stupid and yes, I will definitely never make a good film critic nor will I even dare to call myself a film buff. Because it doesn't matter if the movie makes it to top 5 or 50. If it doesn't end on a good note, I am not going to watch it.

"It is just a movie, come on!", friends tease.

Of course I know it is a movie. I then try watching the actor who died in the movie on other portals to perhaps cajole myself to see the stupidity of it all - 'Hey, this fellow is still alive Sinduja!, come on!'. But I think the approach is stupid.

It is not Gwyneth Patrow of se7en (she is butchered by a psychopath and her head is delivered as a parcel to her husband) herself as a person that I am mourning for. It was her character -  a character that the maker made me feel love for; a character who life and dreams the maker let me peep into; a character that ceased to make the boundaries of the screen real.

"But the character never existed in real. None of it happened!", they say.

If we are not allowed to connect to created characters, then what really is the purpose of art at all? We would all cease to appreciate movies and novels if we were painfully aware of the deception of it all and strongly held ourselves back from dissolving into the ocean of another's mind's creation.

The truth is most of them are able to exercise control. I am not saying they do not feel the intensity of emotion. They can let go for a while and feel them but perhaps they can all collect themselves back together again. They can wander into imagination for a while and they can get back to life again/. Perhaps people like me lack that knack; that direction. we get lost and then we simply get lost. We can never find a way back.  Their attachment is only a temporary loosening of the core detachment while it is the other way round for us.

While a few can hold the strings for a while carefully and then let it go,  others blunder by getting intertwined with them.

Meta-stuff

(I am not expert at cognitive science or psychology. The following are merely my convictions on whatever little education, reading and experience I have had. If I am wrong at any point, feel free to disagree. )

One of the biggest blunders people make is to go tell the chronic worrier to stop worrying. Eh, I appreciate your good intentions and all that but if he could stop worrying, err..he would have stopped worrying right? I don't think anyone took a penance to remain miserable. I mean, do these well-wishers really think it is that easy or are they simply resorting to the easiest means to fulfill an obligation? A chronic worrier cannot just stop worrying. If it was that easy, he would have done it eons ago. Right? A depressed man cannot 'just cheer up'. An obsessive compulsive thinker cannot just let go. 

The pattern is not one that exists only for what we deem dark traits. The same goes for virtues too. A sensitive man cannot simply, overnight, harden up. Perhaps this is exactly why I am always a tad skeptical about inspiration/ motivation speeches. They are great. I mean, they definitely make you feel good and all that. But they can never be creators - they merely serve as catalysts. So, if you are already half-way into planning or doing something, they make you feel good about it and hence reinforce that behavior. 

If all of us could discipline our brains to manage time, socialize better, destroy procrastination over simply a few minutes of high adrenalin boost of an amazing orator, then life would have been way simpler. However, what we fail to realize is we ARE our brain. It is not a device in the living room of the head that can be controlled with a remote because it is the device and it is the remote. 

Couldn't get more confusing, eh?

I am still nowhere close to being adept at putting forth complex things in a light interesting manner but I will leave those of you who have survived till this part with this thought experiment - Think about this - Is it ever possible to entertain two thoughts SIMULTANEOUSLY? I mean think two things at the same time; Remember, I am not even talking of an interval of a minute or two seconds. At one single instantaneous flash, can you ever have two thoughts?

I hope this puts a lot of things in perspective. Cheers!

Dawn

After a while, you quit trying to live life in the manner it ought to be lived. 

You understand that it is better to live life in that manner which poses the least effort and pain. Because after a while you get tired of trying; you get tired of fighting. And all you want to do is to go hide under that huge embracing warm blanket and pretend that the little dark perceivable space under it IS all there is to see; that is the world; that is the reality.

No one is ever going to really be able to define reality. So why not define it our own way? The mad man in the asylum is not to be pitied. He is one of those few who have really adapted the best among us. 

The ones to really be pitied are a few among us who perhaps keep searching for what might never be and keep trying for what is never ours to see; The ones to really be pitied are maybe a few like me.

How hard is it to change? Change is that inevitable road you take when all the other path that diverge are those where you have already been; been and come back since you realized late that they were taking you in circles - and bringing you back to the same point that you wanted to run away from in the first place.

***

I think I am finally discovering my cure. 

Suddenly, it seems like what is really around is so much more joyous and comforting. My immediate surroundings - the acres and acres of coconut trees around my college, the design lover brother/friend sitting right next to me, the humorous exchange of banter at the back of the class, the impending research viva, the job next month, phone calls to family, outings to the local Dhaba - what I considered as mundane everyday life would have kept me occupied and happy and content for a lifetime. There might not have been anything profound about it but there would also not have been inexplicable hair-tearing depressive about it. 

I feel like the young man who got misled and trapped in the promises of lust, coming back wiser to his loving family; welcomed by the open arms of affections of his parents - wondering why he had been blind to this great wealth of happiness all along. Suddenly it seems so foolish - there were right there all the time and yet, it took so long to realize what was right at reach. 

I think I have had enough of looking forward to abstractions - people, places, events and time that I cannot  see, hear, touch, be in or control. The promise of glorious moments and world-changing ideas - they just happen when you are busy doing what you do everyday. Even if they don't, it doesn't matter because you are busy doing what you do everyday. 

I will make an earnest attempt to get back to living - to the demands of the bills, kitchen, class, job, public transport, evening walks and what not; to the people who really ARE there you know; right there - the auto man in front of my house, the maid who comes every day, the grand mother, the friend next door, the boss, the colleague, the bus driver, the child walking in front of me. Wow, the world indeed is beautiful.  Let the only things I look forward to be those that await me in the next six hours. 

I really think I have discovered my cure and suddenly I am filled by  joy of unthinkable measures. Man, I feel happy you know. Happy...truly... after a long time; like the death penalty fugitive who has suddenly been pardoned or the chronically ill man who wakes up one day to find himself well. 

I have defined my reality!Good bye, abstraction. :)

Dude, give us a break!

(If I have addressed men in this post, it does not mean all of them out there. But it surely means most of them)

If a woman accepts her sexuality, it is a mistake. If she doesn't, it is a mistake.
If a woman embraces and exhibits her beauty, it is a mistake. If she doesn't, it is a mistake.

Then really, what the fuck is she supposed to do?

I was doing my usual thing of Facebook surfing today and one friend whom I respect a lot had updated his status: "I can appreciate her voice but I can't appreciate her trying to act cute. Lol. Semma Comedy piece"
and he had posted this video:

Now, frankly, had his status been - "Wow, I appreciate this girl's voice", I would not have bothered clicking on the video. Perhaps even if he had given a negative review of the song, I might not have been too interested. But here is a guy accusing a girl of putting scene and acting cute. Ah, the vicious woman in me pounced on the video with curiosity and glee. Honest. In retrospect, my intentions surprised me but there I was, already partly happy that some vain woman was being put in place. 

I do wish to generalize the trait - though any pop psychology book would tell you that women are adept at bitching about each other and carrying charged emotions within them while men, though, might not show as much of empathy and emotional quotient, will never really bitch at the back and will always stand by in times of need.

Movies and mega serials amply offer to support and propagate these claims. If you ask me personally, well, yes, to an extent, that might be true but really, that doesn't make one gender any nobler than the other. I could list dozens of stories that speak of what harm a man is capable of. So, in the end, each score at a few places and lose at others. My point here is not to debate who is better than the other. 

The video above shows the girl - she must be around 15 to 20 years of age - recording her version of the song from Osthi. It doesn't take a genius brain to figure out that she is trying hard to accessorize the audio with visuals of the glamorous side of her self. In plain words, trying to act cute. The important question is why do we automatically register this as a crime and how big a crime is this? Very severe, you would think, looking at the comments (some from women too) that proceeded:

Now I officially need to pour acid in my eyes!


She has the 'come slap me' face! So annoying!


We write slogging for so many hours and got 2000 fans in three years...here she sings like something is stuck to her lips and she gets 3000++ fans... ena kodumeh ..


 i dont get why the F....the eyes and lips were focused in the video...even in porn i havent seen yet?


 bro u absolutely right..she giving the cute pose with thick make up and looking like a hooker which trying to get bussiness by her look

And all she did was sign a song - of course, in not a modest way.

It might be a very impulsive thing but have we ever wondered why we are so averse to women who blatantly try to attract attention with their looks?

Of course, as the comments enlighten us, such an act is akin to selling your sexual appeal to gain some advantage. So, in this video, we register the message that the girl is not just showing her talent but trying to win by advertising her talent through her looks. 

So, beauty is seen as an unfair advantage that women are born with and we are expected NOT to use this advantage to manipulate men. Somehow it is registered in their psyche that women can manipulate with their looks (see comment 3 above).They don't like it, it seems. Okay, noble indeed. Accepted.

However, the irony is, they too, do not seem so clear with their ideology. A confusing love-hate affair with beauty is what is prevalent in the male species. With a highly evolved eye to judge looks, they find it inevitable that every woman who passes by be rated on her appearance. From the heroine who comes on the screen to the jogger who passes by in the beach, every woman is either a 'super figure', 'sumaar figure', 'mocka figure' or 'attu figure'. The worst types are those who believe they are doing a favor for humanity by passing this comment loud to make sure the girl hears them. What is the most desired qualification for a bride in a matrimonial ad? To be fair. Who is the girl who gets the maximum attention in class? The best looking one. 

Youtube comments section is perhaps the best place to see the primitive gender behavior. Whether the woman on screen is dancing or singing or knitting or talking or driving in a race - without fail, at least 60% of the comments that follow are a testimony to her looks. Give it a try and see for yourself. She is first an object to please the eye and only then will all other thinking follow - goes the uncivilized and genetically ingrained train of thought. 

"Yenda ippadi?" I ask a man and he replies "Alzhaga rasikanum maa... naanga laam alzhaga rasika therinja kalaignargal"

(Translate: "Why this tendency" I ask a man and he replies "Beauty should be admired...we are the artists who admire beauty")

Right, so here we have highly evolved Machiavelli descendants who believe in appreciation of art and beauty and this is their reasoning:

" I want a woman to be beautiful but the woman should NOT over a limit exhibit her beauty. If she does, she is a slut"

This 'limit' that they talk of is relative to each one of them though a common consensus is seen, which changes with nation, class and generation. So, today, for most of them, it is okay if a woman wears a shirt but it is not okay if it is too tight and showing the outline of her body. It is okay if a woman wears lipstick but it is not okay if it is too bright and tawdry and supplemented with heavy foundation and eye shadow. It is okay if she is sleeveless but it is not okay if she shows her cleavage.

And as shown in the video, it is okay if she wants to shoot herself sing but not okay if she tries acting cute.

In short, slog to be pretty if you want our approval but be modest and humble in exhibiting it.


Hah, thank you guys. Sure we will try because we were after all born to obey your illogical whims.

The ignored Zen Habit

I will miss this place - my college.

It might have not been the best of institutions. Yet, I did not want to go to a 'top 10' institution in the first place. It might have not seen me cheerful for most of the time. But I never planned to be unusually cheerful in the first place. 

I could, like most of us are tempted to, rant on how this place taught me so much about life and how I met a variety of characters and learnt about people and their ways here. But I think such declarations are stupid. If you have had a lot of lessons and growth in recent times, it does not mean that you had some special chance to get wise or been through exceptionally eventful or testing times. You have simply been alive. 

Try talking to some ten people and ask them how life was in the past few years. They might say it was good or bad but they will all unanimously rant about how they learnt a lot and realized a lot of truths about living. "I have changed a lot as a person, you know", they add with self-assumed seriousness. Belief about personal progress is one of the many ways of the mind to guard its self.

It might seem like the world has few people who are really content. Everybody seems to be dealing with personal crises. At surface glance, it is east to think that we are, by nature, an unhappy, stressed out lot. News such as 'Elevating divorce rates' or 'deteriorating quality of family' or 'increasing in flow to counselor's offices' will reinforce this belief.  But you know what I believe? We are the most narcissistic species. We simply love ourselves too much for our own good. 

We glorify our miseries and we glorify our victories. At the end of the day, few of us will let ourselves down in front of others. Even the man who complains that he is a complete failure will have a justification of why he became a failure. And now that he has exposed his woes to you, he expects attention. Try blaming him for something and he will come out in a surprising retort in self-defense. 

If all of us had the skills, there would be a library of autobiographies of every individual who had lived here. It surprised me today that Leo Babauta, the man behind a site such as zenhabits would have a page like this. It came across to me as quite boastful. I might be wrong. But I would expect someone who could write posts like how to forget productivity and just live to consider every moment as an accomplishment. Or rather, every mile covered as a memory to be grateful for. I always thought that the best person in this world will hardly use the word 'I'. 

Is it wrong to be proud? No, nothing is wrong. Be proud, be vain, be perverted, be a porn addict, be a compulsive eater, be a lazy couch potato. Nothing is wrong here, of course as long as you do not snatch away another's human being's rightful joys and peace of mind. Yet, consciousness evolves. While it is not wrong to be selfish about a toy while you were seven, it would seem odd to fight over a toy when you are 34.  You might ask what is wrong. Nothing. But it is just that, I expect your consciousness to be a bit more evolved. 

Making public lists of accomplishments seems odd to me, in a person whom I expect to have evolved consciousness. Or perhaps he has not reached that level yet. That is okay. He is a source of joy to many people around the world and I respect him for that.