How I am a Narcissist by NOT Being a Narcissist/Harvey Dent Can Call Me His Dad

I am not the most “counter-narcissistic” person as I appear to be. Actually I am the WORST KIND OF THAT LOT!

My fayboo posts are quite private, I don’t often post status updates, my instagram isn’t filled with selfies and the number of my daily tweets is hardly over 5 most of the days.

On the surface, for a 25 years old person, I am quite “non-narcissistic”, right?


I believe those reality show celebrities are less narcissistic than me. And actually I am the worst kind. They are a bunch of narcissists and they admit and own it. I am the one who pretends to be otherwise and tries to make the statement that, “I don’t care”.

But I sure do.

Well, yes, I don’t care if my hair is out of place or not, or I don’t give a shit about makeups and clothes.

But I care. I care for my image, I care for my appreciation of myself, I do give a heck ton of shit to the fact how “cool” I am appearing to myself. I take selfies and webcam snaps a lot posing with my buck teeth because I think “posers” make duckface. But my ultra narcissistic brain fails to register that showing buck teeth is a personalized brand of “duckface” and I am nothing but a closeted poser as well.

Actually I am a poser who is also a giant fucking hypocrite. I am shit scared that I won’t be as “cool” as I thought I am and constantly check my “coolness” level.

Yes, I don’t want everyone’s attention. But I am not free from the vice of liking attention. I want attention from certain individuals. Worse, I also want certain group of people to hate me. And when a bunch of them don’t hate me and actually appreciate me, it drives me mad!

What did I say? It’s way bloody worse!

So, when I take a peek under the hood and see the true burned to scariest texture possible part of myself that juxtaposes the seemingly “cool” and “not giving a shit about stuff” self, I don’t cringe.

I find an odd sting of thrill. A thrill sprouted from guilt ridden sadistic madness.

I am a threat to my own sanity. And I am a threat to the face of truth.

And this piece of shit (blog) was a poor attempt of making an excuse for this said trait of mine by admitting it.

If I were a dog, I’ll be put to sleep by now.

And I love how incoherent my writing has become! \m/




Duct Tape for Soul/Duct Tape for Sale (?)

How do you remove eggshells?

Wait, don’t answer that!

Tell me, why do you pick on your scabs? Even when there’s a stingy pain when the wound isn’t equally dry everywhere.

Because things like that hurt but we (generally) can’t stop cultivating our weird curiosities, even knowing that there’s nothing but new flesh colored skin stuff is underneath the scab.

And now tell me, how do you remove your eggshells?

For me it does take only a dent on the shell, and I started picking shells from the dent’s center working towards the periphery.

Well, I’m about to make a very poor analogy, so I’m not even going there. I’m kinda DONE with “going all the way”s and “trying, because there’s no harm in it”s. I was just trying to come to a point where I can “artistically” say, “And that is how you pick up the broken pieces of your soul and do something awesome with it.”

Because that is what happening in my tiny stupid head right now -_-

I’m still disturbed. My spirit is crushed the worst way possible. Even Painkiller couldn’t fix it like it does the other time, no postcards or musical embodiment of whispers that my soul make couldn’t do much either. I kinda succumbed and admitted what they warned me about.

So here I am, sitting with the broken pieces of soul, that soul I threw up in the air and crushed on the floor, broken into shreds of sharp pieces, a few got into my eyes too.  I’m still unsure what to  do about it.

I, however, know one thing for sure though.

I will survive this, and reconstruct my soul from the pieces again.


The question is, emotional duct tape (no the duct tape doesn’t have emotion, it’s the duct tape that heals your soul when you are bruised by your emotions) help you to take the shreds of your soul and doomed spirit and help them to piece those together and create something.


My inner demon is kinda laughing its lungs out seeing me writing these pathetic shit. I know the demon is right. But I don’t really care. I am going to use this broken spirit as an inspiration to make something that will give me a reason to believe it was worth breaking the spirits.

There’s no phoenix. I’m not going to come back to life from ashes after burning myself in my own flame.


Chronicles of a DROOL/I am (supposedly) mad at Youtube Red (wow)!

Warning: Too many indented parentheses and random references involved. Don’t read if you’re allergic to those. 

So, it’s proven that when I’m not really charged up, I can only bring myself to writing when I’m too scared, too enraged or too sad (or probably getting paid (like I do in my day job (where I must write shits I don’t give a flying fvck about!))).

That must give away a hint why I’m writing today. I’m either scared, enraged, sad or got paid really big bucks to write about something I don’t care. Well, I’m recovering from a weird pang of guilt ridden sadness. With a lots of hand biting involved. (Someone please take me here (yay! procrastination alert!))

So what caused all that magic?

A poorly written facebook comment for the win! I have been wondering, why the premium service of Youtube (aka Youtube Red) is available in only a few countries and even purchasing the contents from google play wasn’t a very widespread option. The questions actually started gnawing me since Rhett and Link announced their scripted show will be available in Youtube Red. Since I live under a rock, where neither Youtube Red or purchasing Google play contents aren’t an option, I voiced my thought, will there be an alternative to these two means. AND I MADE THE MISTAKE THERE.

I asked if there will be any ALTERNATIVE ACCESS to their work other than those two ways.

Filthy squeaky squib! (yes, that’s me (though pottermore told me I’m a Gryffindor))

Because that statement can easily be taken as me being someone who hates the fact they are making their work available in premium facility.  And it happened. And two of my most favorite youtubers responded to my query as they should have.

They have a reason. The hard work and investments put into a scripted show of that standard can’t be arranged by only Youtube partnership earning. It takes more than that! So, when they asked me to stop being the drool, they were right.

I don’t know whether being called out by two of the people I’m inspired to exercise my creativity and have faith in it or the feeling of sheer stupidity of asking them a question that isn’t actually relevant to them caused this nauseating sadness in my head, but it’s not alleviating, or will anytime soon.

Well, yes, I shouldn’t have asked them this question. This question should be directed to the Google or Youtube authorities. Why aren’t premium services available in most of the countries in our sweet little blue-green-brown planet?

I know there are way bigger issues to resolve. People are in mortal danger in many places on earth at this moment. And here I am, a moronic squib from a third world country is whining about the unavailability of premium services! The rest of the world have every right to judge my rant. But I’m a squib, I don’t have any sense of shame or anything. So I’ll just put it here for your amusing activity of judging.

Does being born in a country that is falling behind in development and and has weird border laws, comes with gifts like not being able to access and support the people we care about? Maybe it does according to the reality.


Come on Google! You are letting the good content makers to air their incredible works in your premium facilities, YAYYY! But a premium facility that is accessible from only 98 countries? Now that’s a bummer.

Yes, there are lots of political and legal bindings are involved. But isn’t it 21st century? Aren’t we supposed to slay these Jabberwocky-like constraints with vorpal sword of global equality (is that even a term?).

I guess I’m ranting like a four years old, who just broke her hot wheels and blaming the floor where it broke. I’m mad at myself and trying to blame others.

But man, it’s Google! If I can have faith in anyone who can bring things to common people’s reach that were previously claimed by snobbish circles, it’s Google.
They made Android happen!

I believe they can make premium content available anyone for the world who are willing to pay for it!


Please say you can bring humans together from all corners of the planet in appreciating the effort of creating art! IN SUPPORTING CREATIVITY!

And I might be wrong and kinda biased and loony since I’m still a guilt ridden shameless squib, but I think unavailability causes piracy and other illegal harms to intellectual property. I know it because I live in a country where piracy used to be a cruel and sad reality. For example, in nineties and early to mid-2000s, big budget hollywood movies were pirated and cam-rip DVDs were sold in streets. Then when cineplexes started offering those movies, a big chunk of people started going to watch the movies. Youngsters and adults started including movie tickets in their budgets. Watching blockbusters in cineplexes together has become a regular practice. Black market DVDs don’t entice majority anymore. Even the people who would torrent the movies, would go to theaters or cineplexes to watch it in big screen. Availability is the key man! If the original content is available for purchasing in just price, majority of people will prefer that to poor quality pirated contents.

I’m leaving my thoughts for the consumption of universe. I hope someday the world would unite to support artists and make their works accessible to whomever may want to purchase. Because, without art, inspirations will run out. Creativity will halt. Science would not progress. And we might find zombies emerging from gas stations.


Of Fears and Anger/Slaying Jabberwocky

My fears finally drilled through my month-long writers block. The el toro blanco is finally subdued by overpowering fear of something uncertain.

Last few days I was sickeningly content, so bloody content that I had no motivation to write (especially an overdue article -_- (Hello procrastination, my old bloody enemy!)), was happily skipping through social networking, flipping through pages of novels, ignoring the pressure of an upcoming public service recruitment test that’s gonna take place within 3 days.

And today I was struck by thunderbolt.

My father lost two of his friends. One was found dead in his bathroom and the other was feeling unwell, taken to hospital and doctors discovered he’s no more. Two friends in a single day.

That brought my old demon back to life, face to face with me. I’ve started worrying for my dad’s emotional and physical well being. And it’s always too overwhelming for me. I’m already struggling to keep tears from falling.

Angry tears. The kind that also affects your throat. My throat hurts from rage and fury, for not being able to protect my dad from this sadness and sense of vulnerability. I’m supposed to be taking his responsibilities, and here I am, loitering around, trying to be creative and not earning enough to support my family.

I wish there was a restart button. I’d go back to my graduation and start over. I hate the slob I have become, but I cannot find a way to change!

Heck! I cannot find a way to sleep at night and wake up in the morning.


I’m sorry baba, I wish I was a better person. I want to fight the demons that are threatening you, but I am totally outmatched in that art of war!


I’ve noted a few seemingly impossible goals of mine before. Like Alice did. Every single day.

I’ll slay the Jabberwocky for you dad. I AM YOUR CHAMPION.

Maybe not the one you deserve. But I am here.

Noting the Stories of Another Land/Dream Journal

Since I’ve been thinking of dreams and imaginations a lot these days, I’ve decided to keep a dream journal from now on. I don’t know what else gonna come up, but I am definitely going to share the more interesting stuff with all.

The concept of lucid dreaming is finally enticing me. So I’ve decided to give it a shot in near future. But before that, I need to get in practice for some dream recording disciplines. So, this is my first step.

My blogs are shorter than a leprechaun’s pinky these days. The reason is, I’m still due a blog about a real deal, and I’m piling all the information and sleeping like a bear all day long. I hate myself for that, I just wish I could become an early bird like normal human beings. Help me out please, would ya?

The Book I Have Lost and Never Found

(Since I’m on the 2nd day of my precious procrastinating streak, I’ll just try something different!)

I’ll just write about the books I’ve lost and never found, not even a copy in any bookstores. They’ve just vanished.

Of course, those colorful books from Soviet Raduga publications would be the first on list. Well they have been for a long time. Unless some individuals with really kind heart have unearthed their copies, scanned and uploaded them in a site. Well it’s not technically illegal. Also, they are only in our native language, Bengali. So now I have full access to those portals of childhood.

The current topper of that list is an old fairy tale book my aunt gave me on my 7th birthday. It was called “Thakurmar Jhuli” (Granny’s bag of fairy tales). Supposedly books of that title contains native fairy tales where princes save damsels in distress from evil witches.


It was actually Brother Grim’s fairy tales written in our Bengali cultural background.

Hansel and Gretel became “Hashu and Chhana” – two sibling left in the woods by their family and captured by a witch in gingerbread house (though it wasn’t gingerbread, but a house made of a local dessert called “shondesh”)

Then we had Snow White and Red Rose who became “Borfi and Golapi” – Borfi meant white as snow and Golapi meant pink.

Rapunzel was called “Keshoboti” – the girl with long luscious hair.

The Gingerbread Man was “Pitha Pooli” – one kind of local cake we eat made from flour, oil and sugar.

The esteemed Town musicians of Bremen became “Gobbu gnayer gayok dol” or a band of musicians from the village Gobbu.

But the most favorite of mine was “Kujo ghora” , which was adapted from a Russian tale “The Humpbacked Horse”.

Oh how I wish to get the book in any bookstore around the world! If someone can find it. PLEASE DO LET ME KNOW!

Procrastination/Last minute job

I was supposed to write a blog as I do everyday. But today I’m procrastinating. I finally reached the bottom of the pit!


But there is a good sign. From now on, anything else I do is an improvement!

I’m going to write a better blog in a few hours. There will be two blogs tomorrow!


(bugger off you lazy pile of shite -_-)

My WEIRDEST Dream/Flying Polymer


This is about my dreams. Things I commonly have in my dreams and weird things related to it.

Mostly I dream about being chased. From five legged spiders to bad guys in black ninja masks, someone is always chasing me! Often I gain superhuman strength (well, relatively, I am not really VERY STRONG person). So, basically most of my dreams are just another cat and mouse run. I can’t recall any that they are not. And most of them takes place in my old house, that I mentioned earlier.

Sometimes the location is different, but that’s always temporary. Like that one time, I dreamed I am a hired bodyguard for someone I never saw (I literally never saw my principal(the person I’m supposed to protect) in the dream, that person was faceless). And I was in a studio apartment, always scanning people on the street. There was a distinct table with red and white striped umbrella downstairs. And my friend would have tea there every morning (I don’t know from here she comes). One day I go downstairs, AND KATANA FIGHT ENSUES! The other day, I dreamed about being hunted by bad guys and in the end me and another friend took shelter in the old house where I used to live. But the bad guys found us there and they managed to shoot my friend with poison dart in head. His head dropped on my lap and I could see another dart directed to me. I ducked my head and that’s all I remember.

But the WEIRDEST award should be given to this :

It started very normal. The timeline was probably during my 12th grade. I was taking physics tuition in an old building with few other friends. Our teacher was warning us about a weird “thing” that was instantly putting people in catatonic state. It was like a big flying polymer like thing. The tuition was dismissed early so we can go home before it gets dark. So, I was waiting for a bus, and I met a friend (well I didn’t know him then, we met at least five years later). Before we could even start talking, I saw something black looming from behind. And I screamed hard. Grabbed him by wrist and started running (it should have been otherwise, he is way thinner and at the same time taller than me, but I think the dream me was in charge(like I always like to be)). At one point he couldn’t run anymore and that flying polymer attacked him, and I tried to fight that thing with my backpack, well, my precious backpack turned into a lumpy polymer junk in a few seconds, and it grabbed him by back!
And he was turning into a black slippery polymer statue (the way it happens in sci-fi movies) and I was screaming and crying for help. Though nobody seemed to notice, as if we were invisible. I don’t know what occurred to me, BUT I GRABBED HIM BY HEAD AND STARTED MAKING OUT VIGOROUSLY!
(So, the flying polymer is scared of awkwardness)

Like all the “knights in shining armor: modern edition” in movies, I instantly turned into a “Flying polymer” slayer and started running round the streets for no reason. Actually I managed to entice his/her highness flying polymer and I was the target since then -_-. And I met that friend couple of times and had to “save him” -_-
(Dear weirdest dream, next time present yourself with some more logical facts! Like if the polymer slayer was the new target, shouldn’t she’s supposed to be “saved”?)
Till this day I am not sure, was it my subconscious sexual frustration that I never went to any bases with anyone or was it lack of proper zombie movies in my life that made me dream of such weird stuff!
Because, the whole making out thing was so fvcking real! It sounds really perverted, but I think that is how real making out works! GAAAH! I think I know the taste of his oral odor (yes, that GROSS AND REAL!)
In a way, that dream left me scarred. For a while I was quite uncomfortable around that friend of mine (even virtually), even I unfollowed him in facebook! (Like it’s a fvcking big deal!).

Sorry mate!

And if you have put your patience in ultimate test by deciding to read this blog up to this point, thank Rhett and Link as well. -_-

The idea of today’s blog came from this video :3

Well, I think I better look up for the shreds of sanity and self respect (was that appropriate?) left scattered in the universe, while you people finally close the tab.


More Laments/Sad Saturdays

I ran out of things to write about. What’s the best thing to write about when you don’t have anything else to write about? I think it’s a tie between a) writing more about how you cannot find enough time to write about things and  b) random thoughts that cross your mind.

I choose b.

The first thing I could think of is, how unsuccessful and left behind I am from my peers in college. And I’m feeling an enormous bloody guilt about it. People who were better than me are skyrocketing, I have no problem with that. BUT PEOPLE WHO WERE NOT, their success gives me a bummer. Yes, I am being honest. My jealous little bean of a soul is burning with guilt and agony for procrastinating. For letting my skills and talents go and not working hard enough. Also for going far away from the organized and discipline person I was. And I find it infuriating that THERE IS NO GOING BACK. There is no restart button for it. I have to bear my failure ALL MY LIFE. In an honest way, I’m at least 3 years behind. I am 3 years unsuccessful in my own bloody standards. I am a total failure. I cannot function properly, I am a disgrace. I know there are life coaches out there, who help people like me. But I don’t know any of them or cannot afford them. So here I am, rotting in my own guilt dumpster.

The second thought is a little more brightening. The peers who are successful, are not happy with themselves either. Everyone is in a rush. There is no stopping. No taking a moment to have a look around. Everything must be planned, even the vacations and hangouts. Everything is organized beforehand. Everyone is in a constant anxiety to make sure everything is right. Boy! I should be grateful that I still have the time to enjoy and have a moment to enjoy. Well, basically that’s all I’m doing right now. I hope I will find a balance. I honestly want to do something that I love and make a decent living doing it. WHICH IS HARD MY FRIEND. VERY FVCKING HARD -_-

However, I have a third thing in my mind. I’m thinking of setting an online gameplan. I will set a few goals for every day and upon accomplishing, report those. ALL OF IT WILL BE DONE IN THE BLOG. Since this blogging thing went well (so far) for a week, hopefully that will go well too. I will post the details tomorrow.

(Even I don’t like my blog today! -_- There’s nothing in it to touch other people’s soul. Baa!)

But folks, you are better than me! And you guys are probably doing things that is doing greater good to humankind. So folks, DON’T FORGET TO BE AWESOME \m/

Embodiment of Pure Love/Jason Becker

Ever listened to Jason Becker‘s Altitudes? If not, PLEASE do buy the album Perpetual Burn and listen to it. PLEASE. I beg you. Then you will feel how this maestro can wring your innermost deepest emotions with his guitar.

I mentioned Jason because tonight I’m feeling very empty, selfish, unproductive and unsuccessful. So I wanted to talk about someone I love, respect and consider an inspiration. And how that person inspires me. The first name popped in my mind is Jason Becker.

I am too small and unworthy to write a short bio of Jason. So I won’t even try. You can visit the wikipedia link for that. All I want to say is, Jason Becker is a talented human being with heart of gold. He is made of 24-carat pure love. An insanely talented human being, whose passion for music transcended the barriers of ALS. He has been battling with ALS for more than two decades. But that didn’t stop him.

I don’t think I need to mention at this point that Jason is a heavy metal guitarist and composer (but I did it anyway). I can’t remember anymore, when exactly I fell in love with the most purest spirit of this man’s creativity, BUT I’M GLAD THAT I DID! Before talking about how he has made my miserable like a little more bearable, I’ll have to say something about his passion. As I have mentioned before, he has been living with ALS for two decades, yet he managed to compose music using software when ALS barred guitars and keyboards from him!

Since I’m in constant despair, I’m always bolestered by creative people’s endeavors. Books, music, acting, humor – help me to survive my constant sadness. BUT JASON IS SPECIAL. He is someone my emotions converse with. His works talk to my emotions, reveals a different universe to my emotions, that gives me ideas of moving forward. Jason Becker is, as Paulo Coelho says, a warrior of light for me.

Jason I love you. I wish I could do something to make you happy. I’m still trying to figure a way out how to offer a tribute to the pure love you have shown me through your work.

For the rest of you great human being out there, I present you with a trailer of a documentary about dear Jason. It’s titled Jason Becker: NOT DEAD YET. Yes, that title breaks my heart every time I read. But it is beautiful. You can purchase the full documentary from here.

I can’t guarantee a tear free time. But it’s beautiful. I’m sorry, this selfish git (me) is really emotional today. But you nice human beings out there, DON’T FORGET TO BE AWESOME \m/