More Flight pain

Cincinnati Airport: 12:46 pm

The madness is almost coming to an end. Strangely detached. A little sad. Should have tipped the cab driver more.

Wondering about all the other people traveling to Austin. From Cincinnati? Why? What are the odds? The only explanation is that there are way too many people in the world right now.

My luggage wasn’t overweight. Or was the check-in guy just nice/tired/frustrated?

Stomach feels empty. Cookies in bag not tempting at all. All sorts of chemicals churning around in bloodstream. Mind in a blitz.

Airport staff is requesting passengers to Laguardia to volunteer to give up their seats – for a compensation of $400. Glad I don’t have that chance. It would be tempting, but I’d have to pass it up.

Boarding should have started at 12:40 pm. It is currently 12:54 pm.

Great. Estimated departure time is now 1:30 pm. More time to write my work report.

All right cookies – you win.

***

210 calories later…

Hurray – boarding begins.

------------------------

I couldn't even stay up for take-off. Damn you Vicodin.

On her hallucinations...

I think this is the closest I've ever come to wishing that I had never been born.

Pain swallows the ego.

I'm starting to sound like John Milton.

Wrighter's Block

The advantage of going for almost two months without posting (besides basking in the joy of being lazy) is that there is so much to talk about.

White water rafting was great. A little over-hyped, like skydiving, but fun nevertheless. The sad part is that the moments that I enjoyed most during rafting had nothing to do with being in the raft. At one point my guide let me jump off an 18 foot high cliff, and sometime later, let me ride a class I rapid on my back. Other than that, hiking along an actual trail, and making several thousand detours which included exploring mines and caves, walking down the sides of waterfalls, climbing walls and abandoned wooden structures was exciting, as was camping outdoors in 30 degree (F) weather.

Rock-climbing got a lot better. I progressed from a 5.6 to a 5.10 difficulty level, and actually completed a bouldering route. Tennis got shoved into the closet (quite literally) with the arrival of the winter season. The gym in our apartment complex was closed because of renovations (aargh), the trees burst into rainbow colors all around the city, Mana and I went disk-golfing (a hippie sport) for the first time in our lives (thank you Bryan), painted an orphanage, and impulsively decided to go skiing this weekend.

After spending all summer in a coffee shop and a library, this change was rather nice.

My cubicle-mate, Brian, is a blast. Although a diligent and intelligent worker, he always has time to share the funniest and most interesting stories, so that when I am not working, I’m laughing. We decided to improvise our cubicle…following the unintentional legacy of the window-guy [see previous post]. We added a mailbox (thanks to Charlotte’s genius art-and-craft skills), a Welcome mat, a Christmas tree (with office supplies as ornaments), and are in the process of adding curtains to the existing window, and installing another window behind Brian’s computer, which will show a winter scene. Our co-workers and Manager were highly amused.

Thanksgiving was glorious. My mom flew in to stay with me for 3 weeks, my dad came down from Syracuse; I got the chance to spend quality time with my parents for the first time in ages. I was relaxed and happy; and at my creative best despite limited sleep (Ammar and I put together the 3rd AO over Thanksgiving). Ammar actually said that he would make an amendment to the AO Constitution – to have a yearly fund to fly my parents in for a ‘super duper AO’. And super-duper it was.

Halloween was another memorable day. Mana and I dressed up as a magical portrait from Harry Potter, using a huge wooden frame, which I actually carried around when I went trick-or-treating. The candy I got made up for my tired arms.

I suppose I should mention work too. I saw the Black Hawk, the Airbus A380 (a large and freakishly quiet airplane with a GE engine – the GP 7200), the GE 90 (a larger-than-an-elephant engine), and gave the worst presentation of my life. However, things got a lot better after that – keeping with the ‘you don’t know how good you’re doing until you know how bad it can get’ philosophy (thanks Ammar).

We finally fulfilled Mana’s dream of going to Chicago – a total of 10 coops landed in the Windy City for the coldest weekend in November. In between crawling under the jelly-bean (‘the Cloud – Gate’), running up and over bridges, climbing everything in sight that was higher than a foot, hanging off tree-branches, holding chicken-fighting tournaments in our hotel room at 3 in the morning, having a chicken-fighting ‘battle-royale’ in the center of Millennium Park (surrounded by the perplexed looks from amused on-lookers), racing inflatable horses, squeezing 8 people in a single hotel room, learning how to whistle through a grass-blade - I barely had time to realize that I might never see these awesome people ever again, or that I was in the middle of having the time of my life.

When pigs fly..

So far, I have discovered that probably the most interesting thing about Cincinnati is its Flying Pigs.

Which does not mean that I have anything against the city. Flying Pigs are cool. Flying pigs are rare - and let's face it - ridiculously funny too.

Back in the 19th century, Cincinnati was an integral part of the pig trade, and had the unofficial nickname 'Porkopolis'. Now, several statues of flying pigs litter the city - statues that were auctioned off and decorated differently, so that each one is unique. I saw my first one at the airport itself the day I landed in Cincinnati.

It's been fun being in a new city, in a new apartment, at a new work-place, but who said having fun was always easy? Getting furniture for our unfurnished apartment proved to be a challenge, especially during the first few days when Mana and I were still car-less, stranded in the city with a public transportation system from Hell. We quickly became fans of furniture of the inflatable variety, and others that need to be assembled with screws and infinite patience. Our TV stand is made of six blocks of styrofoam, and our first shower curtain was made out of two trashbags. Now we have replaced it with a fancier one with penguins on it.

But we seem to have lost interest in the whole concept of real furniture.

I work in a cubicle in the basement. And my cubicle has a window. The story is that some employee requested an office with a window. Since his placement was in a cubicle, and even worse, the basement, he was told outright that his request could not be granted. Undeterred, he decided to make his own. He printed out a picture of the branch of a tree on 6 regular sized A4 sheets, and thumbtacked them together on the bulletin board behind his monitor. On the side is a hand-written note of 'Let us never forget the Sun'. Good advice. The world should be thankful for engineers' sense of humor.

Speaking of our sense of humor, the second issue of the AO was released to thunderous reviews on September 10. It was probably one of those rare moments that made me wish I was back in school this semester, just so I could bask in the glory of our success. We even made it to Dr. Mark's Wall of Fame, as Ammar put it. Some students over in the Journalism school at UT, inspired by our newsletter, created their own - which they call The Yellow Journalist. So now, we have earned bragging rights for being the paragon, the magnum opus, the originals - the founders of a very untraditional tradition.

The Renaissance Festival, which I went to yesterday, is a keeper of untraditional traditions as well. Some of the shows were hilarious, the actors' 14th century costumes cool inspite of the 91 degree weather, the little stores and stalls priceless. A ministrel group that I particularly liked had the best drinking song ever:

So put some more guiness in us,
It's a sin if it's not guiness I say,
So buy me some guiness, and pour it right in us,
It might, just help us to get through the day

Between ice-skating, indoor rock-climbing, raging at apartment management for converting the tennis court into a helipad, white-water rafting, long conversations with the people who matter most, creativity, waiting impatiently for the trees to get on with autumn, a general sense of well-being ... I wonder if Mana and I will ever get around to buying furniture.

Probably when pigs fly.

Ranting and Renting

My other umbrella broke the other day. I think I'm going to blame it on Udit again, and kill him.
I recently finished reading a soppy story 'Dear John' by Nicholas Sparks about love and sacrifice, which did nothing to reinforce my belief in either. I picked up the book thinking I might like it more than Sparks' movies, but I ended up wasting endless hours and very few tears. Books like those just make me angry. A story that could've been wonderfully told in a page and half, was stretched over 278 unbearably long pages.

I've begun to think I might have anger management problems. Either that, or I could make heck of much better author than Nicholas Sparks.

On the other hand, I had much better luck with 'Freedom at Midnight' and 'No Man's Land'. And so far, pretty good luck with 'Snow falling on Cedars'.

I came to to the library today to return the last book and the last movie, vowing not to rent any more movies, because I need to go through my 10-book high pile in my apartment first, but I was powerless against the wall of movies there. My laptop DVD player has bailed out on me already.

I've been learning quite a bit about space-missions etc over the past few weeks. Everything from astronaut exercising constraints and equipments, to an account about the hows and whys of all the major disasters in the space era.

I made another list of goals the other day... and frankly, it scares me.
- Get a private pilot's license
- Get a scuba-diving license
- Get a sky-diving license
- Get a driver's license

To top all that off, I'm already fighting a temptation to get a haircut.

Cleveland

To say that my last two weeks, first in Ann Arbor, MI, and then in Cleveland, OH, have been eventful would be lying. Saying that my stay has been uneventful would be a lie too.

That's me - always in the middle.

It was nice being in Ann Arbor again. I didn't remember much from 10 years ago, but I stayed with some awesome family friends, had my all-time favorite pretzels at Briarwood Mall, drove past my old middle school, Tappan, and went kayaking on the Huron River. I also watched movies at the rate of 1/day, and slept an average of 10-11 hours daily.

I was also glad I escaped the thunderstorms and the cold, danky weather in Texas just in time. I never thought I could enjoy un-overcast skies, but the sunshine in Michigan was perfect.

Cleveland - Cleveland - Cleveland.
The city is not a pedestrian's best friend. Especially a pedestrian who walks without a map.

I think I could write a thesis on the Art of Getting Lost in Cleveland.

On my first day at work, I stood on the wrong side of the street, and took the wrong bus. By the time I found my way to the right stop, and taken the right bus to the next stop, I'd already missed the transfer bus. Fortunately I still made it to work in time. On my way back that day, I made the same mistake, at a different intersection. I reached my place after 8pm - 3 hours after I'd started. The buses have been nicer to me since then, and most of the bus drivers recognize me now. One of them, who'd been driving the unfortunate bus that I was on for 1.5 hours my first day, saw me yesterday, and announced gleefully - "I see you're not getting lost anymore!"

I still get lost everytime I go running. The streets in Cleveland are wickedly tricky. You think you're walking in a rectangle, when in fact, you're walking in a hexagon, an octagon, or a triangle. You may be walking down some street A, and pass another street B. A couple of blocks down, you'll see the same street B again. Last week, I was nowhere being close to where I started, and was wandering around in the dark. It was just after sunset. Fortunately for me, my friend Ankita - in Austin -called, and then looked up my location on Google Maps. She then guided me home.

It was the story of the week. I am so thankful for technology. And google. And friends who call me while taking a break from their dull lab reports.

Work's been good so far. Eye-opening and rather cool. The NASA Glenn Research Center is not the most glamorous place in the world, but people do a fair amount of good work there. I met some people who have been at that center for 40 years. It's a staggering thought, because I'll probably have retired in 40 years, from work or life. I share my office with my mentor and another co-worker. The last corner in the room is the snack-shack, stocked with ginger ale and root beer and diet sunkist (hooray!), and a 4 lb-box of twizzlers. Life couldn't get any better.

I'm starting to get the hang of apartment living too. Renting a room in an apartment with two crazy dogs and their sweet owner is not a bad deal. Cooking has been interesting, but I'll have to document that later. My cooking hasn't killed me yet - so that's definitely a good sign.

FlightPain

1:25pm - Austin Time
2:25pm – Detroit Time
12:25pm – Denver Time

Flying is weird. I still think humans weren’t really ever meant to fly. I’d like to quote Douglas Adams here: “The knack to flying lies in throwing yourself at the ground and missing”. Planes are just about as reliable as that.

Yesterday, I was supposed to fly out from Austin to Detroit. I wanted to start at 2.00pm, and I did. But of course, everything went wrong. There was an accident on I-35 that slowed down traffic terribly; the check-in lines were super long; I was fined for my luggage being overweight; and I was “randomly selected” for extra special screening.

I like how things in the US are disguised so expertly...absolutely nasty meat is covered in all sorts of sauces, salad is rabbit food without the dressing, you see signs such as ‘Want to have an exciting career as a State Trooper? Apply here!’ everywhere, all the time. The attendant behind the desk looked at me, smiled, and said ‘You’ve been selected for extra screening!’ as he handed me my boarding pass. He might have been saying ‘You’ve been selected as the winner of our $40000000000 award!’

It was already 10 minutes past my boarding time, but I went through the rigorous screening process. They scanned my luggage, and asked me to go and stand between glass partitions (which were possibly bullet-proof). Finally, a security-officer approached me and went into a diatribe of airline safety policies, and telling me exactly what she was about to do. She struck me as a Don’t-mess-with-me-‘coz-I’m-so-professional kind of person, although the way she delivered her speech reminded me forcefully of Shakespeare. ‘Are there any sensitive or injured parts of your body that I need to made aware of?’ she said at last.

I looked at her and shrugged. ‘I’m ticklish’.

I’m sure she was laughing when she patted me down.

The rest of the procedure was uninteresting. I sat in a relatively comfortable seat, looking bored, while they went through my bags. I was annoyed; they were, after all, unpacking my carefully over-stuffed bags, bags that I had to almost sit on so that I could zip them. Afterwards, when they were done, they cunningly left certain items outside my bags, so that I could wrestle with the closing ceremony again. Bah.

When I got to my gate, the flight had been cancelled.

I got another ticket for today, which I didn’t mind. I got my fine-money back; I discovered that I could take a full-extra suitcase with me; I cooked something real for myself for the first time in my life; and I watched ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’ again.

My friend Ammar, the biggest airplane-buff to be found in a radius of 7 miles, asked me if I needed a ride to the airport, because he loves driving, loves watching cars at the airport, loves the airport, and loves watching planes flying over the highways that lead to the airport. I figured he preferred doing a good deed over studying hopelessly for a pending exam. I also figured I’d be doing him a favor if I asked him for a ride.

Today, I was ‘randomly selected’ for a special screening again. This time, I was ready. While they went through my bags, I read. It would have been extra-fun if I had been reading ‘The Inscrutable Americans’.

On my flight, a little 2-year-old kid sitting in the seat behind me screamed and kicked at my seat the whole way. I got back at him by falling asleep. While de-boarding, a passenger pointedly remarked (so that everybody on the plane heard him), ‘what a well-behaved kid!’

I got a really cool picture of clouds on my flight from Denver to Detroit (Shown above). It was the sort of picture that reminded me of the very first sentence that introduced me to similes and metaphors…"the clouds were marshmallows in the sky".

More of this and that

So Negin and I went on another ridiculously long walk yesterday. Our destination: the bats on Congress Bridge.

We waited for them. And then they appeared. We had to move down towards the Barton Springs side of the bridge to see them clearly. As we looked down at them, we remained silent.

Finally, I spoke.
'That's it?'
We saw a swarm of oversized brown fluttery things, flying under the bridge in vicious circles, swirling and swimming in the air. The sight was mesmerizing, but not what I'd expected.
'What did you expect?' I asked Negin.
'I thought I'd see a swarm of 1.5 million bats leaving the bridge and rising up into the sky,' Negin said. Beside us, we heard a five-year-old say the exact thing to his father.

Oh well. At least we saw the bats.

Afterwards, our hunger led us to Wendy's. As the cashier returned my change, I looked at the quarter I got back, and commented on how I always tried to collect the 50 quarters for each of the different states, but failed because I ended up using the quarters for laundry.
Behind us, a guy started laughing.
'I'm sorry,' he said, turning red, as we looked at him. 'I didn't mean to overhear you, but I know what that's like.'

This morning, Negin freaked out when she found out her father's old high-school friend had decided to visit her. The apartment was a mess. We started cleaning up frantically, and shared stories about how we'd made people wait outside before while we threw everything into the closet or under the bed. 2 hours later, the apartment was barely presentable. 4 hours later, she called me, whining about how here dad's friend had called her, met her outside the apartment gates, and left, saying he was too busy to come inside.
It reminded me of dressing up for a party, and not going anywhere. Tragic.

Later, I had another long 58 minute long counseling session with my parents, who were ready to make the house look like the Jerry Springer show. It was almost fun, because I got to end the conversation with an admonishment of 'behave yourselves!'. :)

My latest favorite hangout is the Epoch, a weird 24 hour place with good coffee and mostly-good music. And a crazy waitress who is constantly swearing at her co-worker.

I've been taking drivers license practice tests all evening. People tell me that I'm worrying more than I should be: the test is mostly common sense. But as they say, common sense is uncommon in common people. I'm very common.
They also say the test is easy. But they also said ME 210 was easy. Screw them.

I need to go back and write my promised ode to YouTube. I found this old song I'd danced to when I was in 6th grade, at this annual school show where I also acted in a sixth-grade version of Shakespeare's 'Macbeth'.

I was proud of that play, because I was the director, script-writer, and protagonist. My classmates and I did a hell of a good job practicing our lines and getting the costumes ready. On the final day, however, I realized that there were certain details we had forgotten to iron out. The disposal of 'dead bodies' for instance.

As the girls died one by one, they just got up and ran off the stage, to the amusement of the audience. I was annoyed; it was my show, and they were ruining it. However, when I finally died in the final scene (I was Macbeth), I waited for somebody to drag me off the stage. As it turned out, all the other actors had somehow ended up on the right side of the stage, whereas I was on the left side. (There was no backstage). Only one girl remained on the left side. She was also one of the smallest cast-members. She tried her best to drag me out of sight, but she was at least 20 lbs lighter than I was, and in the end, I just got up and ran off the stage.
The school called Macbeth a 'comedy of errors' for a long time after that.

I related the story to Negin, and she said she remembered acting in one play in elementary school. She was a tree.

Escape

My aunt died 3 days ago.

She was in her forties, and left behind a husband, 4 kids, and a new daughter-in-law. Her death was a shock to everyone - even though she weighed about 200 lbs more than was good for her, and had been confined to her bed for over 4 years.

Even though I rarely saw her, she'd been a big part of my childhood - she was generous, liked by everybody, and put everybody else's comfort before her own. She was a wonderful parent - and made sure her kids grew up to be respectful and hardworking.

It's strange that I haven't mourned her death as much as I would have expected myself to. I suppose physical distance does that to you.

I wonder if dealing with death becomes easier as you grow older. Or if age just makes things worse. I feel desensitized right now, but I know things would have been different if I had been in the same house as the rest of her family members, wading through a flood of memories.

When I was 10, my grandmother passed away. I had been inconsolable. My cousin and I used to fight over whose house our grandmother would live in, and I still have fond memories of her, despite a very vivid memory of her calling me 'bedhab' - which meant 'disobedient brat'.

It's hard to imagine how things change while we're away; it seems that we expect people and places to remain the same, even though we ourselves change. Nothing seems real to me right now: I can only try to remember the times that I spent with my aunt, little things that I wish I had listened more closely to, the wasted moments when I chose to go out and do insignificant things when I could have pleased her by spending a little more time with her. When I picture my next visit home, I reach a dead-end ... a place of such infinite sadness that I don't want to go there. I make a U-turn and go back to laughing with my friends, or reading a book.

The book I was reading recently, 'Waiting for Daisy', explained the Japanese notion of wabi-sabi: life, like the cherry blossom, is beautiful because of its impermanence, not in spite of it, more exquisite for the inevitability of loss.

It makes sense...but wisdom about the inevitability of life and death does not help.
At all.

A Foray into the World of Arranged Marriages

Sadly, my mom has, once again, started broaching the subject of marriage.

"So - have you found anyone yet?" she asked yesterday.
"I'm not looking. So what did you cook today?" I said.

I think Indian parents start thinking about their kids' weddings the day they (the kids) are born - nay, conceived. 'Bride and Prejudice', though overly exaggerated, with a terrible soundtrack, still has an element of truth in it. The presence of well-wishing relatives doesn't help. As soon as they see two single youngsters, apparently eligible, the benevolent, bored, dormant match-maker in them surfaces.

Almost the youngest in the family, I know it's not my turn yet, and won't be for another five years- but my mother likes taking revenge for the Hellish times I made her go through while I was a teenager.

"You know, you should talk to that boy I was telling you about - he's so nice and respectful. I can give you his contact information."

"If you do that, I swear I'll send him a rakhi."

Raksha Bandhan is a Hindu festival which uses a rakhi, a fancy thread that is a symbol of the bond between a brother and a sister. Traditionally, a sister ties the thread on her brother's wrist every year, indirectly asking for protection. . . And money.

In India, cousins are considered to be like brothers and sisters. Since I don't have any real brothers, I landed in my cousins' houses every year. They never stopped complaining about this festival, and how unfair it is to the male pocket. Tradition, however, is tradition.

The rakhi is also a seldom-talked-about secret weapon that the Indian woman weilds. By tying the rakhi around a male friend's wrist, the girl is implying that she thinks of the friend as a brother. The dreams of several people I know have thus been ruined by a piece of thread.

"A rakhi doesn't mean anything," my mom replied loftily. Oh yes it does. "Besides, that would be a very stupid thing to do."

"If you like him so much," I seethed, "YOU marry him."

My dad, who was listening in, started laughing. My mom, even though I couldn't see her (over 9000 miles of wireless connection), probably gave him one of her you-aren't-exactly-helping-here stares. She dropped the subject of that particular boy, hiding her panic well. She probably figured that a rakhi would be a suicidal move.

"What about the boys in your college?" she persisted.
"They're all Gujratis," I said, inventing wildly. Gujratis are people from the state of Gujrat - they're cool, and awesome, and have nothing wrong with them, but a senseless excuse is still an excuse. My sister, two years older than me, claims all the guys in her school are Biharis (from the state of Bihar). Which is almost the Indian-equivalent of saying that all guys are red-necks. I know that's her defending herself from all potential matches.

My mother sighed, and gave up. She'll be back in action soon.
I know she means well. But the whole situation is, quite frankly, rather laughable.

A Batty Adventure

Fact: If you live in a particular city, there is a 95% probability that you've not been to its tourist attractions. (The 5% is to account for all the enthusiastic fanatics out there). And yes, there probably is uncertainty also.

Source: Me

I would've called it Nimisha's Theory # who know's what, but the truth is that the above really is a fact, not a theory.

Yesterday, my friend Negin and I decided to go for a walk after dinner to digest the excellent thai food we'd had (she, apparently, didn't agree with the excellence of the food). In any case, we started walking, walked around the Capitol, and somehow ended up at the Congress Bridge again. The railing on the left side couldn't be seen because of all the people waiting to see the bats come out from under the bridge.

Every spring, about 1.5 million bats (the Mexican Free-Tails) migrate from Mexico and settle down in the crevices under the Congress Bridge. They go out to hunt every night, and are seen all summer, well into August. One of my friends, who was a guide on one of the tour-boats on Town Lake last summer, told me that the bat babies (called pups) are born during the summer. It's kinda funny how Mexican bats like their young to be American citizens. Heh.

The former public-nightmare was soon turned into a tourist-attraction...bats supposedly eat tonnes (thousands or millions of them) of insects every night. Every evening, around sunset, the bats come out in hoards, which is (supposedly) quite a sight.

I know all about it, but have never seen it happen. Yesterday seemed to be the day I would get that chance.

Negin and I found a spot at the railing, and waited. We waited for 45 minutes. We talked about things ranging from dog-vision to the phase diagram of water. But the bats didn't come out.

While standing there, resting against the railing, my hands felt strangely empty.

"We need to use some bait to get the bats to come out," I finally said.
"How?" Negin said.
"By using a fishing rod. And attaching a dead insect at its end. We could probably call that 'batting'. "
Negin and I looked at each other. And then we started laughing, and couldn't stop for a long time.

We left. And of course, true to Murphy's word, the bats came out soon after. We heard them while crossing 7th street. I guess the batting will have to wait till next time.

May 13-June 8 : A summary

I am still amazed at how quickly things (and people) change. My situation has changed drastically since last month. In between that last post and now, I pulled off the following stunts:

I stayed up for 84 hours (with a total of 3 hours in nap-time) between May 13th and May 16th, went to Houston (after 2.5 years), visited two of my friends there, went to Burnet for Leadershape, made 38 new friends in a week, did 350 crunches with Chioma, discovered my purpose in life, and how terribly awful the real world is.

I also walked from Far West back to UT campus (I was walking for 3.5 hours - that's about 12 miles), and made my friend/ex-roommate walk with me. I had several other walking adventures - down to 4th street and back, to Town Lake and back, to this random park on Lamar and back...

I talked myself into pretending that I would get my drivers license in 2 weeks - it's the 3rd week now, and I'm still on the 4th page of the Texas Drivers' Manual Study Guide.

I went to the Six-Flags Amusement Park in San Antonio with some friends - and rode real roller coasters after 9 long years (not counting one measely ride over spring break). The last time I had been on a roller coaster had been in April, 1998 - on the Space Mountain Ride at Disneyworld.

I also attended a class. That I wasn't registered for. Just for fun. And because I didn't know what to do with myself that particular day. And I took notes. I would say that I paid attention to 97% of what the professor said - which is some sort of a record. My belief in Tom Sawyer's (Mark Twain's, for that matter) theory about work and play is reinforced. It stated: "Work consists of whatever a body is obliged to do, and that Play consists of whatever a body is not obliged to do."
I didn't go back because of other chores I had - apartment hunting etc., and now catching up with everything would qualify as work, so I think I'll let the class go.

I went to the Coop, and had a terrible time deciding what to spend my rebate money on - An awesome Magnetic Dartboard, or a book called 'An Illustrated Guide to Aerodynamics' - a book recommended by Dr.Hans Mark (the legendary professor of the Aerospace Department at UT) during my Freshman year. My friends Mana and Ankita continued to give me harassed looks throughout my decision-making process, and I had almost made up my mind to pay from my own pocket in order to get both things - when we ran into an old friend who had dropped out of Aerospace Engineering the previous year. She said she would just give the book to me.

I discovered how bad I was at Dart-throwing that night.

I played Badminton after months and months - and have been playing almost daily. I broke my watch while playing racquetball with a squash ball in a small court with 3 other people. I also picked up 3 books, and am reading all 3 of them - 'The Golden Gate' by Vikram Seth (A novel in verse), 'Angels and Demons' by Dan Brown, 'Waiting for Daisy' by Peggy Orenstein.

I'm now waiting for a letter, and a phone-call. And then, I might go home.

:)

Give it up...

This is a particularly awful moment.

The propulsion final today was a disaster. Which made me realize that the word 'fail' is ingrained in 'final'. It was such a pain taking the test, that I have, temporarily, lost all interest in continuing with Aerospace Engineering. The interest will, of course, revive after a good night's sleep. Once I clear my bed of the millions of papers - all propulsion-related.

I thought of having a propulsion-paperwork-burning ceremony - but I'm not sure if that'll be a good idea, since a lot of people will want to save all that stuff for next semester, in case a repetition is in the cards...

I want to give-up. No, you don't, my super-ego tells me. My superego is my mom. A few years ago, when we were both having our poem writing/publishing marathon, she was churning out poems like 'Try Try Again', or 'I Can' - while I wrote something like this:

GIVE UP!

Are you facing one of those days,
When the sky is black and the clouds are grey?
When the world around you is moving ahead,
Leaving you behind, alone in your dread?

If you put in your best and failed,
If you’re the victim, whose dreams have been nailed,
Don’t curse your luck or wish you were dead,
“Just Give Up”, as somebody rightly said.

Just Give Up, it’s not so hard,
Your confidence, at least, will not be scarred,
Don’t think that you will lose your glory,
You can still be a Winner in your life’s story.

Courage, they say, is holding on,
Fighting in the darkness, till it is dawn.
But it takes courage to let go too,
And stand outside that ambitious queue.

If the tunnel is dark and you see no light,
If the battle you’re in is not going right,
Give up and go against the tide,
Break the rules, and hop off the ride.

Because he who fights and runs away,
Lives to fight another day.

I got the last two lines from an Alistair MacLean book. 'The Dark Crusader' I think. Although they say it's one of those stock phrases.
This poem didn't make my mom very happy.

For some odd reason though - I don't feel that bad. I suppose I'm more used to doing badly on tests than I was two years ago. All I know right now is that the world hasn't come to an end, I'm still fit, my family and friends are all okay, and I still have internet access, facebook, and youtube.

I have been amusing myself by watching old Aamir Khan coca-cola advertisements. I just decided that it would be awesome to meet that guy - he truly is my favorite actor. He can pull off any role - a tour guide, a Japanese tourist, a Bengali father, a Punjabi farmer, a crook, an English millionaire - anything.

That said, I feel the need to talk about the many virtues of youtube. I've been able to watch all the old songs I used to wait for forever to be telecast on TV while I was groing up. Maybe I'll write an ode for youtube someday. Right now, I really should get started on my two projects.

Fun fun. I can't wait for the next AerOnion.

The Fall of Murphy

Dear Mr. Murphy,

I cannot say that I admire you - I never will. Your law is quite possibly the most awful, though insightful, ever propounded. I hate you with my heart and soul, and if you had anything to do with the inner workings of this law, I will personally come after you - invent a time machine if it comes to that, and kill you. I plan to learn how to shoot very soon; in fact, I may be going to a shooting range on Monday, and I'm perfecting my Taekwondo kicks as we speak.

I was all set to go home this summer, and work in the Fall, but yesterday I got a phone call that changed it all. It may turn out for the best, but I will not give up on the chance to complain while I can.

Today is the day that I shall do the impossible. After my plans for yesterday exploded into iotas of nothingness, and I bombed an exam, slept through an appointment, slept for, as it happened, ten hours straight, I still plan to do the impossible.

And prove you wrong.

Sincerely,
Your Nemesis

"Compliments"

Over the past few days, I've had many things said to me. Some of the statements stand out, especially because there's such a fine line between them being compliments ... or insults.

'She's hot. Hotter than Hell.' - A resident's friend said about me.

'I see your health has improved.' - My TA from last summer, when he saw me after 6 months or so.

'You're such a dingbat. I love you. ' - A co-worker/friend.

Sigh.

GIGO

Recent Statistics:

Number of hours of sleep in the last 4 days: 12
Number of all nighters pulled: 2.5
Number of hours spent in the LRC - Aerospace Building: 45
Number of hours spend in the LRC - Electrical Engineering Building: 20
Number of meals skipped: 8
My diet today:
13 chips ahoy cookies, 2 special K cereal bars, 2 sliced of pizza, french fries, a frosty, and a cheeseburger minus the meat.

It seems to me that my semester-long nutrition plan just went down the Mariana Trench today. Especially since I can feel the 7600 free calories floating around inside me. Urgh.

The only consolation is that this new diet can be blamed entirely on my ridiculous curriculum and the outrageous number of assignments due. The sugar and sodium are stress foods, comfort foods, on-the-go-because-there-isn't-enough-time-to-sit-down-and-have-a-proper-meal-foods... and lots of other words that are not synonymous with 'healthy'. Even though the whole point of this exercise is to get my work done. And learn. And get good grades. And not let my GPA skydive. And understand concepts.

However, I am inevitably reminded of one of the first acronyms I learnt in my first computer-science class in school: GIGO

Garbage In Garbage Out

I wonder if it applies.

Knowing my luck...probably.


Tomorrow's the last day of school. Wow. It'll be another 8 months or so before I will be in class again. Perhaps I'll appreciate school more by then.

I'm glad the AerOnion happened - the pipe/AIM dream that's a wonderfully colorful and funny newsletter on my table now - thank you Ammar. (And Steven and Mays)

It's 2:39am - I have a Measurements Lab report to finish, a Flight Dynamics Program to read, understand, and write about, a semester-long research project to complete and write about, a Taekwondo test to take - before 9 pm tomorrow...and then I can go camping!

Only to come back and study for the remaining finals.

Bums on the drag ... I feel ya'.

heal the world - michael jackson

I feel this song...

Unreality

A sequel to the 'I hate...' rant I posted on my friend Malvika's blog a month ago.

Some things are hateful. Like overcooked broccoli. Tedious lab reports. Homesickness. Unrequited love.

But a lot of things aren't.

Walking down the street today I realized,
How beautiful life can be,
With a cool breeze, and a cloudy sky,
And no troubles (as far as my myopic eyes could see).

My hair was blowing behind me,
My clothes hung loose on me,
I felt invisible, and strangely content,
I had no responsibilities, and nobody to please.

The green in the trees,
Was just the right shade of green,
The blueness of the sky,
Was clear and pure and free.

People around me were smiling,
Their faces glowing in the fading light,
Talking excitedly about,
The shooting stars to be seen tonight.

My feet carried me on,
The world was just so right,
I felt fit, and I felt fine,
While reality stayed out of sight.

My inspirations always come at the wrong times. I should be sleeping right now, and paying off my sleep-debt that I've been in for several years now.

More goals

My friends at lunch today were recounting some of the best fights they'd been in (yep - the guys were doing the talking). Sometimes, I wish I had grown up around a brother. In my childhood, the only fights I had were with my very docile sister - who took all my blows. And stopped me from getting into trouble with the neighborhood kids. At times, I think that I owe her my life.

In any case, after listening to my friends' adventures, I decided to add this to my list of short-term goals.

8. Get into at least one fight. Or beat the hell out of someone (who deserves it).

Another one, I've been thinking of is the one below

9. Grow my hair out. And donate it.

This will probably be more challenging - especially if I do go back to India this summer - the land of cheap (and very tempting) haircuts.

This and That

I liked yesterday for it's randomness. On my way back from my PED class, I decided to not take the bus back, and started walking. I walked past a couple of people playing badminton. Of course, I had to stop. Turned out that there was a challenge out to beat a champion called J Pal, from India. And even though it was 1:25pm, and I had to be at a meeting at 2pm, and shower and eat before that, I jumped in. They let me go first.

I lost. Badly. I blame the wind and the sun, (and you, for Tasmin Archer's sake). Even indooors, I guess I would have lost, but may have been able to put up a better fight.
Badminton's awesome though.

Later that evening, as I was about to leave the WRW for dinner, I bumped into a friend who told me about an AIAA (American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics - I typed that out to see if I could account for all the A's) meeting - where they had free pizza. I did an about turn and followed him.

The speaker, Ken Griffin, was rather good, and quirky, and some of the things he talked about were directly related to my research. He discussed Aeroelasticity and the x-53 design. At one point he said, 'The blended wing body transport plane just looks like a pregnant B2'. Another time, he said, 'You think you're ready for a roll, and you have all the sensors and actuators in the right places, but out there, the wing's actually laughing at you'. Also, I ended up sitting right next to another ice-eater. Which was heartwarming.

I took my fitness test today. It wasn't bad at all, although after the aerobic fitness section, I was ready to drink up a swimming pool. I got a score at the end: on a scale from below 30 to above 41, where anything below a 30 was terrible, and anything above a 41 was excellent, I scored a 40, which I'm happy about. But then, taekwondo practice today gave me two bruised knuckles, which I'm not happy about at all. I got back at the stupid board by cracking it in two with a front snap-kick.

Looks like a long night. Flight dynamics homework, flight dynamics lab, measurements lab, and research. And rounds on 20 floors - since I'm on call right now.

Strangely enough, I feel like I'm going to miss these days in a few years.

Agitated.
I think I need to go running.

Midnight Inspirations

Needless to say, I came up with the theory below during one of my classes - and propagating it didn't exactly have the desired effect on my audience. Eh - I still think it's cool.

aloofalien: so - check this out

aloofalien: i was thinking...

aloofalien: they always talk about love triangles, right?

aloofalien: but even around me, sometimes, i see more..

aloofalien: i see quadrangles forming - even hexagons

aloofalien: does that make sense?

aloofalien: and if you think about vector addition, you realize that all the vectors add up -

aloofalien: but in the end, only 2 vectors connect.

aloofalien: so - a whole lot of vectors in between are just stuck in the middle, and only 2 actually find each other in the end.

aloofalien: dude - that's like the most awesome theory ever!

hermes0730: brb

I can always count on my best friends to encourage me with their enthusiastic responses. Thanks adi ;)

I have a lot more to say on friendship.

I found out recently that the object of my affection wasn't exactly available. When I whined about that to one of my friends, he said, 'Want me to beat up the guy?' Another one offered to take care of the other girl - she said she had 'contacts' who had multiple talents.

I had to do my best to stop both of them from being carried away by their violent dispositions. I said I might need their services - in the future - just not yet.

Friends are awesome.

I'm glad that I don't feel any resentment towards this guy. He's still amazing, and has had nothing but a positive influence on me. I was sad yesterday, but today I felt free, and happy.

I still decided to put together a flowchart titled 'How to lose a guy in 10 days' - for future reference...mine and others'. I'll figure out a way to upload it later.

It's 3:14am, and I have a 9 am class.
Damn.

I realized today that ego isn't necessarily a bad thing...it's a good defence mechanism.

Parenting my parents

I was talking to my mom last night. She was rather upset. And whiny.

The maid, apparently, had accidentally broken one of my mom's expensive Ganesh figurines.
"Rs 350 - down the drain," my mom said. Even though she was more than 9000 miles away, I could almost see the froth buiding up around her mouth.

More than the loss, however, my mom was upset at how lightly my dad had treated the episode.
He'd shrugged and said, "what can we do?"

My mom would have liked my dad a lot better if he had taken control of the situation, supported her, and chastised the maid. That, quite obviously, did not happen; and what ensued was a fight.

"He just sits around all day - busy with his students, or his laptop, or the newspaper," my mom continued. And then she called him many things, which I will not mention here.

I listened patiently. Because that's what I do. One of my friends called me a sponge once, because I soak up others' worries, insecurities, complaints, sorrows... I don't know why. I just do. I could understand how my mom felt - I'm a lot like her -I like attention, and expect some care and love from the people around me. But I could understand how my dad felt too - since I have a lot of him in me. A broken figurine was hardly something to cry about.

And then I talked. I consoled her. I convinced her that dad, and the rest of us, were totally in awe of her, and often told our friends stories about how strong she was, and how she could do so many things we were all scared of doing. For example, one summer, when the mango tree in our backyard was loaded with mangoes, monkeys were showing up daily to have their share. And driving my dog, Pepsi, mad while she barked her head off at them. Finally, my mom decided she'd had enough, and started waving a stick at them (the monkeys). The monkeys snarled,
and deliberately broke off a branch and threw it down at Pepsi. Pepsi escaped, but her barks got shriller.
The monkeys didn't come back - at least not that year.

Another time, when my mom realized we had a mice-problem in the storage room (these problems are pretty common in India), she decided to chase the mice away. She pulled out the suitcases and opened them, and my dad and my sister and I helped her. A minute later my sister screamed - she'd just unzipped a bag and witnessed a family of mice sitting inside it.

My dad, my sister and I bolted. My mom gave us a resentful look, and then proceeded to pick up the bag and step outside the house. She released the mice in the park across the street.

Anyway, coming back to the main story - after my mom heard me tell her these things, she said in a tense voice, angry but reluctantly pleased - 'You're such a diplomat. Defending your dad and pacifying me at the same time."

After that, I had a talk with my dad. I told him that he had to start spending some more time at home. And taking mom out more. And coming up with new ways/ideas to have fun. Like trying a new recipe. Or playing cards with her. I said I'd check on them every week. And that they'd better be prepared for cross-questioning.

Needless to say, I felt like I was 77 years old.

Life. And Love.

Sometimes, I wonder about life. And love. And everything in between.

I distinctly remember complaining to my sister-in-law, about how all songs just talked about love, broken hearts, and yearning. Bhabhi, newly married, and far wiser than I was at the time, simply said, ‘it’s because love is such a universal thing…you’ll understand it some day’.

I’m not sure if the day has arrived yet, but I think I do understand things more than I did five years ago. I understand what it is like to love your family, I mean – really, and truly love your family, and the feeling that there are people in this world who love you so much that they would do anything for you. Looking back, I think I understand how my parents felt as they watched me grow, and how they feel now that I’ve left home, and all the millions of ways in which I misunderstood them. For example, I didn’t realize until the day I left home that my mother loved me. After three days of non-stop arguments, and constant declarations that she was so glad to see me leave, she burst into tears when I gave her a reluctant hug at the airport. Two minutes made me see the truth that I had been blind to for 19 years.

I think I understand how I will feel when I have kids, and grow old, and think back to days when I was young. In fact, I’m already doing it. I wish sometimes that I could rewind the clocks and grow up again, this time as a much better daughter. Sometimes, I realize that I am turning into my mother, but the thought does not terrify me the way it used to. I suppose that is the beginning of wisdom.

I think I understand why people continue to live in the Sahara Desert, or the Polar Ice Caps, or in bug-infested rain-forests. Home is home, and nothing can change that. The tse-tse fly cannot; and neither can the worst weather phenomenon. It all boils down to love – love for the land, the people, and the familiarity of everything.

W. Somerset Maugham, oh so truly said, ‘Love is only a dirty trick played on us to ensure continuation of the species.’ I’d like to add to that. Love also ensures a uniform geographical distribution of the human population. And balance in the world.

It’s such a beautiful trick though.

Elegy for Flight Dynamics Lab

I'm sick of flight dynamics lab reports.

In fact, right now, my hatred for these reports is almost competing with my hatred for measurements. I could write an elegy for flight dynamics - only I won't, not yet anyway, because that would mean spending even MORE time on a one-hour class.

I was discussing the awesomeness of disclaimers with a friend today. If only they'd allow them on tests...I have my disclaimer for my propulsion test in 9 days ready...."Please be aware that this test does not reflect the full potential nor brain capacity of the student being tested. This exam is being taken under high levels of stress, and lack of sleep caused by ridiculous amounts of homework assigned in other classes. The student is also extremely excited at the prospect of school ending in 29 days (at the time of this test). Therefore, this test is pretty useless if you think about it."

I'm ready to sleep. And finish my lab report in the morning before my Manic Monday begins (with 5 classes, staff meeting, taekwondo practice). But of course - I'm wide awake now.

Maybe I should go back to flight d-ing...
Nah.

Here's the elegy in any case...

Flight Dynamics, flight dynamics,
O when will you die?
I hate you with all my heart,
Trust me, that ain't a lie,
I hate writing the stupid abstract,
And making it so concise,
Although the results section,
Is probably your biggest vice.
I agree - the objectives are all right,
The procedure's every better,
But as soon as I start the discussion,
I stumble into a huge crater.
I never make recommendations,
And my appendices are almost blank,
I hate commenting on results,
And making withdrawals from my logic-bank.
Typing in equations is the worst,
It's so painful I want to cry,
So if you don't go away soon,
I'll bury you before you die.

Venting is good.

If we had a three-hour class in venting, I'd make an A. For sure.

I still remember the first Engineering Fall Gathering that I went to. The Student Engineering Council President at the time, Chris Something, made a statement that I quote every chance that I get, "They say that engineering in college is made up of 3 parts: sleep, studying, and your social life. On any given day, you can choose only 2 of these activities".

After having completed 71.875% of my college life (that's right - I calculated), I can testify that the above statement is true. Of course, college students try to take shortcuts, or find a loophole in that law by multi-tasking: sleeping in class [sleep+studying], taking homework to parties [socializing+studying], or passing out at parties [sleeping+socializing]. Multi-tasking is not my forte, unfortunately - I become terribly disoriented if more than 2 people try to talk to me at the same time. Or for that matter, if I try to read and run at the same time. Or watch youtube and study at the same time.
I suppose some combinations of tasks work rather well though - like showering and thinking, eating and reading, doing homework and whining, etc.

I had a rather interesting conversation with one of my professors today - the professor himself is quite an interesting character. I base this statement on his usage of all sorts of phrases to describe people and places and propulsion terms; he called Cincinnati 'the armpit of the universe' today.

Must start on my to-do list now. Item number 1, of course, is 'nap'.

Red Bulls and Purple cows

I just finished the Red Bull that I started drinking last night. I've heard Red Bull's like beer - you don't mind the taste much after the first few times. Beer's still nasty though. The Red Bull didn't really keep me up last night; I was asleep within the hour, although I was wide awake when the alarm went off this morning.

April Fool's Day yesterday was interesting. As it turned out, I was the perpetrator, and not the victim. I probably fooled more people yesterday than I have in my entire life. I got most of my residents. Although I did have to go around apologizing and offering candy and taking pillow hits to make up for the 'bad' joke, which was also labeled 'the best joke ever', a 'clever joke' etc by others.

I have a test on Wednesday, which I probably should start studying for. Right about now. 12:11 am. But I might as well just start at 12:20 am.

I wonder if they will ever do psychological studies on procrastinators here at UT.
I'd be so rich.

In my staff meeting today, my HC made all us RAs take the Myers-Briggs personality test, which I have totally lost faith in now. I happen to have taken the test 4 times already in the last 3 years, and my personality has changed from an INFP -> ISTJ -> ISTP -> ENFP.

I had an interesting conversation today with someone (whom I shall call 'Sally' to protect her identity blah blah) about who we really want to be. Sally's hardcore. She was really critical of the astronaut program, and said that astronauts became famous only if they died or went on a murder-mission. Which is partly true. Kinda reminds me of the new Great Women Museum they've built in Kinsolving. It's growing on me, so I don't think it's terrible anymore, but I do wish it had been less crowded. My friend Yezi noticed that were pictures of only one Asian woman and one Indian woman on the wall; so we decided we'd be the next ones on the wall - but we'd have to be dead before that.

Perhaps I need better goals in life.

I was thinking today about some short-term goals - for example, things I would like to do before I graduate (all non-major related, of course).
1) Get to at least the blue-belt level in Taekwondo
2) Study abroad
3) Run a 10k run.
4) Write a story. Or a book.
5) Volunteer at some animal-care place.
6) Write for the Daily Texan.
7) Be actively involved in some charitable organization.

I'm sure I'm forgetting many more - but I'll add to the list.

The Red Bull's not helping with the sleep issue - but it sure is making me feel guilty now.

There's a really awesome story called 'How now purple cow' in '100 greatest science fiction short short stories' - my favoritest book in the world.
Just FYI.

My Symphony

My co-worker and friend, Alaina, is a harpist. An excellent harpist I might add. The reason I mention her is that I discovered a poem through her - it's lovely. She said that it described her life.

To live content with small means;
to seek elegance rather than luxury,
and refinement rather than fashion;
to be worthy, not respectable,
and wealthy, not, rich;
to listen to stars and birds,
babes and sages,
with open heart;
to study hard;
to think quietly,
act frankly,
talk gently,
await occasions,
hurry never;
in a word, to let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious,
grow up through the common
...this is my symphony.
WILLIAM HENRY CHANNING


I wish I could say the same. But I feel like I don't study hard enough (not consistently in any case), nor do I act frankly, or talk gently. And if I were to say that I'm never in a hurry, I will burn in Hell for a lie so big.

I suppose I could work towards being that kind of person. I'm sure this William Henry Channing guy was very happy being who he was. By which I do not mean that I'm not happy being me; but I would like to have some admirable qualities in me that others, and I personally, would like.

I love music majors - they have this easy, dreamy aura - it's very calming.

Turns out Chioma was right about me being an earth element. I took an online test that gave you your 'element composition' . I didn't try to figure out the scoring deal - but I got a 5 on earth, a 1 on fire - every other element had a negative score.

Chioma couldn't stop laughing when I told her.

Elements and Dreams

A few days ago, my friend Chioma got a henna tattoo on her back that said 'water' in chinese. That started a discussion about elements, and what each person's element was. I, apparently, am an 'earth'. I interpret that as being grounded and practical. Chioma said that many earths ended up living vegetable-like lives, and the secret was to know when to stop.

Huh.

I guess that's all right. I can take criticism. And when I have time, I will probably come up with 10 reasons why earth elements are superior. Just like I came up with 10 reasons why it was good to be short. I'm listing most of them...the others were too dumb to put down here.

1. Being tall makes you rather high headed. And let’s face it. Who likes being with high-headed people?
2. If you’re tall, you’re closer to the sun. So you feel hotter in the afternoons.
3. Tall people have difficulty breathing, because higher up, the air gets thinner. So there’s obviously less oxygen.
4. Tall people occasionally get hurt while walking into a room. Doorways are designed for normal people, you know.
5. The centre of gravity of a tall person is pretty high up. And if your CG is high, you’re bound to be more unbalanced than the others around you.
   
6. Imagine a tall person being a criminal on the run. If that person tries to disguise himself/herself, he/she will be highly unsuccessful. Their height will surely give them away. That, of course, is not the case with people with normal heights.
7. Tall people are slow. In any situation, if quick action is the requirement, then tall people are the most unsuitable. Because of their long limbs and extremely long body, electrical impulses from the brain will take longer to reach the motor organs, and hence slow down physical activity.
8. Last, but not the least, when tall people die and have to be buried, they need more coffin space. And if the family is not very well off, the height that was admired throughout their lifetimes does lose most of its grandeur, doesn’t it?

Getting back to the topic I started out with (although digression is good - it reminds me of P.G.Wodehouse, or perhaps Dave Barry), I realized that there is hardly anything else I want to say about it.

I ran into my friend Bharathi after a long time yesterday, and we talked about everything ranging from Aerospace Engineering drop-outs ('the smart ones', as she called them) to the awesome rapping at the Forty Acres fest. And then, we talked about dreams.

'Dream without expectations', she said.
'I can't do that', I said flatly.

Because I can't - not yet anyway.

There's a lot to be said about dreams, and I will get to all that - after I check off a few things on my to-do list.

Which, at the moment, would scare Santa Clause if he thought it was a Christmas wish-list.

Blog names

It took me all of 30 minutes to come up with a blog name. I remember that it was the very lack of creative ideas that prevented me from creating a blog 2 years ago. They need to come up with a better system...."They" from here on refers to a nameless, formless creature, who I will blame it all on.

Brainstorming led to the following results...
1. Warped wisecracks
2. Nimisha's blusterings
3. Batty chatterings
4. I-don't-give-a-damn-about-the-blogname
5. Batty musings
6. Batty insights
7. Batty wisdom
8. Batty brilliance
9. I-should-be-doing-my-homework-really!
10. Why-are-you-reading-this?
11. Procrastination-is-a-necessity