State of My World Address

In a deeper funk, I've never been in. Its not like I've been depressed, but rather, a loss of direction in the day to day functions of my bodily existence. My mind wanders aimlessly down the corridors of sane consciousness. Could somebody please pull me up by the hook or stick a needle into my inner voodoo.

So I'd been delving into the tactile and mind-fucking experiences that my sordid life has to offer. Besides the aforementioned porn experiment with google adsense(which failed miserably), I'd also tried my hands at other experiments, like trying to see how fast I can get a pot-belly (pretty easy, this one. Just keep eating, and how joyous it is, shoving sinful crap into my oral-fice), how much sleep I can have on a given afternoon (result: practically the entire afternoon, given the right temperature and ambient luminosity levels), and resorting my voluminous comic collection (which gives me great nerdy joy pronto every time, like seeing a complete list of gobbledygook having been sorted by bucket sort or even Microsoft Excel).

Well, I suppose one of the reasons for my lack of direction is because once again, I'm at a crossroad. While I have decided which fork to take, the impetus is in another's hands. I’d already gone for the pre-requisite interviews, and am now a puppet waiting for others to pull (or snip) the strings. This state of limbo distresses me greatly, and thus the incessant ingestion of over-the-head yummy goodness, from granola to cornflakes, noodles to chips, ice-cream to chocolate, cheese to salads. While these may look healthy individually, let’s put it into perspective. I had them all on the same day. Within a 12 hour period. With neither a break nor an exercise regiment in between. How soon before I lose the luxury of seeing my toes when I stand straight (which is the test of whether you’ve a pot belly or not)?

So this past week, I had been paper trading again. Can’t lose the passion, or the drive, and attraction of fast wins and amazing losses. This pull to take risk is really a genetic trait that I cannot overcome. I’d jump out of a plane, or go on a killer roller coaster ride any day, over a massage or even a shopping spree, much as I love to shop. I almost traded today, and the truth is that I should have. I gave my broker an order to execute, which wasn’t followed through. Then the theories that I had learnt contradicted my previous order, which was still valid and was awaiting execution again. My broker advised me to go with the theory also. I cancelled my order, and waited for the conditions of the theory to be more exact before enacting.

Then the market laughed in my face, hit my initial order’s conditions, and ran away, all the way to the bank that I failed to open an account in.

I could’ve made 2000 bucks today. And that pretty much is in the same vein of the entire week. Coulda woulda shoulda. Hindsight is 20/20. Does anyone make contact lenses for Life?

The news has been depressing lately. Israel and Palestinian conflicts are on the rise again, over the capture of an Israeli soldier. Constant attacks on Gaza, hitting on their infrastructure by helicopter gunships, and rocket retaliation from the militia injuring inncent bystanders, really became numbing as the week wore on. There has to be an agenda going on. Perhaps it is to draw attention to the ineptitude of the new Palestinian authority to control its citizen army. I mean, why hasn’t the Mossad just gone in and get the Lance Corporal out? SHEESH. Easy Peasy to them.

And of course good old spoilt lil’ Kim decided to fire off his phallic symbols into the sea. One even of sizable proportions that fizzled out 40 secs into its performance. Not even a 1-min man, it seems. Empty threats that got everyone’s panties in a knot. Can’t we all just invade and get all those starving children out of there?

The World Cup trudges on. At this point, we are left with 2 matches, for the finals and the fight for the 3rd placing. I’d only gotten into the action in the semi-finals. All the action before was just too boring. I hope France wins. Thierry Henry, I like. The Italians just look too damn scruffy for my taste. But then again, football is a ruffian’s game. And chicks dig Italians. Must be due to the fact that they do not understand what the guys are saying, hence they cannot say anything wrong to piss them off.

The Truth? Master your Destiny. Follow your course. Everything happens for a reason. Question those reasons constantly.

This has been your voice of despair. Weep openly.