Pointlessness

Statutory Warning: I want to write today, but I don't have any clear topic in mind, so I'm just going to run with it. Expect a lot of nonsense and many pointless sentences.

Trying to strike a balance between everything you want to do, and everything you're supposed to do, is so difficult. And I seem to spend almost all my life caught up in this struggle.

New word I just read:
'schmaltzy': Excessively sentimental.
Hah.
(No, that cannot be used to describe my writing style. No! Why would you suggest that?)

I'm finding I don't really miss my college or internship too much. And I'm finding that sometimes, I actually enjoy studying. That occurs more often than not when the studying is to be done without deadlines, but sometimes it's the killer deadlines that make all that studying fun. Both have their own charm, so to say. (Yes, here I am, waxing eloquent about mundane things such as studies).

Having watched Avengers, I have two things to say: 1) Mark Ruffalo, you have a brand new fan, and,  2) I am thoroughly bored of the let's-destroy-this-great-big-city-and-all-those-tall-towers-with-these-huge-ugly-monsters routine that Hollywood keeps repeating in every movie climax (D-wars, Transformers, etc.) (Yeah well, D-wars was a Korean movie or something, not Hollywood. I know!) (Yes! I saw it! Stop staring!).

Funny pointless drawing from here for your entertainment. I placed it in the middle of the post for no reason.

Then I went and saw Vicky Donor. Let me tell you all about that.

It was better than quite a few Hindi movies, that much I can say. The lead, Vicky Donor, has a sperm count of '110 million' or so I caught in the movie, while the normal sperm count is 20 million. So he is an Aryan male, the man of mans, etc. So far, so good. My favorite character is Vicky's Punjabi mom. As the movie progresses, and as Vicky keeps on donating his sperm and blessing more and more infertile couples with babies, however,  I grow more and more restless.

I start thinking about how the babies will all have his genes and then about how this is such fertile ground that can lead to consanguinity and inbreeding and mess up the genetics of the entire human race and so on. Yes, I tend to dramatize things a lot. Basically, my mind takes a wild scary ride. And at the end of the movie, we are shown that there are a total of 53 babies, born with Vicky Donor's sperm, who come together to celebrate the infertility clinic's 25th anniversary. And all, all I can think of, all that is running through my mind constantly, is this: "What if the kids' families became friends at this stupid party, and then they grew up, and what if some of them wanted to marry each other? How is this sperm donation thing even legit? Oh God. Why did I study medicine? Now I can't even watch a movie in peace..."

Then I reach home, it's almost midnight, and yet I HAVE to sit up and start researching sperm donation rules and regulations, just to reassure myself that such things aren't happening in the real world out there. It seems every country has different sets of regulations and sperm donation banks and agencies also follow their own rules. Also there's no mention of any such rules and regulations in India. So then I just go to sleep.

In other updates, I've been spending my days listening to the Bee Gees song Stayin' Alive. I may be a bit late in discovering this song, I know. It's just one of those songs that's been made solely to get stuck in your head and then stay there forever.

Here's some gyaan you didn't ask for: 
It's funny how man is so proud of even his smallest achievements, and seems to forget about how much more there always is, to be done, and to be achieved.

And then some observations about myself: 
I love spending days all by myself, switching off my phone, talking to no one, cutting off from the world, studying at my own pace, or not even studying, cooking, reading, watching bad movies. That's the good life. Also, I am lazy. Even while playing games on my phone, I am lazy. The games I like to play don't require me to do much work. Anything which requires even a wee bit too much of brain usage, I just get rid of it or ignore it. For example, people's birthdays. I never try to remember them. And sometimes, I even see their birthdays on Facebook and don't wish them. I mean, what's the point, right? I hope you get me. So now you know from whom not to expect birthday wishes on your birthday. That's done then.

I can't remember anything else I want to write about.

I do remember a question I want to ask. This is for all of you who like reading. If you had to recommend one (or three) books I should read before I die, which would they be?  You have to let me know. I could be dying tomorrow! LEAVE A COMMENT!

Bye bye.