This is a journey and I am just a traveller. Sometimes my horse stumbles and I fall off. But I have learned to quickly rise, run after the horse and mount again... Occasionally I get hiccups, but again all I need is a stream of cool water and however thirsty I am, I will hardly drink more than two litres! I think a man's  strength is measured not in how many wars he fights, but rather, in that one victory he cedes to a friend in need.

Its Manic!

Again! These cycles that swirl and spin of manic depression. Sounds of Nayabingi drums thundering away and turn me into a snapper. Snapping at the ones I love most. Fun only exists in the middle of my brain when I walk the solitary path of solitude. In solitude I am safe. I am sacred and untouchable. In solitude I only commune with great folks, not tittle-tattlers who seek wisdom in loud banter and waste of spit.

Bleary eyed and losing the nerve

Light and darkness merge into one long unending miasma and for a moment you pose to ask, will there ever be a time when everything will either be clear darkness or clear light? Night and day have simply lost there distinctiveness and so I labor on not knowing when to start or when to stop. Its cyclical and I guess all of us are somehow and somewhat in the action research-like cycles, you know, cite a critical incident, analyze it and then plan for the future only to suddenly realize that when you were busy analyzing that particular incident, the earth had shifted beneath your feet and therefore you now have to make good of whatever is at hand to catch up. The more reason why sleep and rest have lost meaning. travellar, keep on travelling!

Who are we?

When all else doesn't seem to fall in place, when the body simply doesn't want to go on though the spirit is willing, what does one do next? The demands of the day and expectations from society require of us to conform: turning us into slaves of others' desires and machinations. When do we get to really be who we want to be? Are we not just really defined in terms of other people's lenses, you know we do whatever we do because we are afraid of what others might see, say or hear? The few who are daring enough to be who they really want to be, I think are quickly termed as mad and sent to the loony bin.

The gloom is lifting. Achilles said that it was okey and so a day that seems to have started like an evening will probably turn brighter and throw some beautiful rainbows (and a pot of gold at the end I hope) my way. You know, it is not always easy to climb to the 'cathedral of knowledge' upstairs and talk to the Professors and Doctors if your ideas are half baked or just taken from books in a cut and paste fashion. THIS IS WHAT IS GIVING ME THE HIGGIE-BIGGIES.....

what kind of a day begins with a MORNING?

What kind of a day begins with a morning? Would it be any different , say if the day began with an afternoon or evening? Well conflicting information is what I am contending with this morning. Bounced appointment with my supervisor because the secretary gave me a verbal appointment. Loss of face? Probably. But of course i guess that's what gives a day the critical incident to reflect upon, pick the pieces and like a cowboy who has fallen off his horse, mount and ride again: OTHERWISE REMAIN A PEDESTRIAN FOR THE REST OF LIFE!

Travellar

It is always great to try something new...I went to see my lecturer and he told me that I resonate with adventure and therefore shouldn't shy away from my chosen topic. Mmmph! Tough luck.