Musical Mood: One Sweet Day - Mariah Carey feat. Boyz II Men.
... are funny things.
Just when you think you've used up every single tear drop left in you... whoosh. A new rain leaves the clouds of your eyes and moistens your cheeks in ways you never thought possible. And you start wondering when these clouds will lift to reveal the sunshine.
I like tears.
They are difficult, they make you explore depths of your self you would rather leave alone... but in each drop, there is Truth. Maybe it's Truth you already know, or maybe it's Truth you're hiding from yourself, or maybe it's a fresh discovery.. a newer angle to Truth you never thought of. But every time a tear drop leaves your eye, it is carrying a reflection of your soul, of your deepest and simplest Truth.
They are also funny because sometimes, you hide them from the people you love and need the most... the only ones who can wipe those clouds away with the warmth of their love, are the ones you trust the least with your tears.
It's quite sad, really. We should be in a happy world.
About Me
- --Sunrise--
- I love the sunrise. I love staring out into the horizon in front of me, feeling the sun's glow, and losing myself in my own world of thoughts... I love being awake when the world around me is fast asleep, and staring into the distance at the tiny glimmering ball of fire as it shyly creeps into my world… Each sunrise brings to me a new day and with it a fresh start. An opportunity to do things differently, see things from a different point of view... but best of all, an opportunity to ponder over the day ahead, giving a new chance every day to live...
Monday, October 01, 2007
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Rubber.
Musical Mood: Too Lost in You - Sugababes.
You know you are losing it when, on a gorgeously sunny day (which seems to be becoming a rare occurence in this dump, if the recent rains are anything to go by) when you should be out and about, you prefer to stay indoors and look at a rubber and allow your mind to spin with futile musings on how your life would be if you could simply rub out the parts (of the said life) you wished had never taken place. (And all I could think of to do after that was blink, stare at the rubber again and think, "Oh my God.. what is wrong with me?!"... in a Chandler-in-Friends style.)
The thought seems to be a little hypocritical, doesn't it? If you want to embrace life, then you ought to treat the good times and the bad times with equal... respect (I guess?). You can't just grumble and start wondering about why on Earth there are no rubbers for life when things get frustrating beyond your comprehension.
I guess this is what being cooped up inside four concrete walls (and a window) with nothing cooler than work to do, does to you.
You know you are losing it when, on a gorgeously sunny day (which seems to be becoming a rare occurence in this dump, if the recent rains are anything to go by) when you should be out and about, you prefer to stay indoors and look at a rubber and allow your mind to spin with futile musings on how your life would be if you could simply rub out the parts (of the said life) you wished had never taken place. (And all I could think of to do after that was blink, stare at the rubber again and think, "Oh my God.. what is wrong with me?!"... in a Chandler-in-Friends style.)
The thought seems to be a little hypocritical, doesn't it? If you want to embrace life, then you ought to treat the good times and the bad times with equal... respect (I guess?). You can't just grumble and start wondering about why on Earth there are no rubbers for life when things get frustrating beyond your comprehension.
I guess this is what being cooped up inside four concrete walls (and a window) with nothing cooler than work to do, does to you.
Tuesday, August 07, 2007
Do you remember me, too?
Musical Mood: Yun Hi Chala - Swades.
Six years ago, when I was on holiday with my parents in Egypt, we
used to walk past this young girl selling papyrus artwork on the street every day, as she was next to the hotel we were in. She must have seen the belt I was wearing (which was nothing fancy) one day, as the next day, she asked me if I would give her the belt as a gift to her. The following day, I remembered my belt and gave it to her, and in return, she gave me one of the papyrus paintings for free, which I now proudly display on my bedroom wall. I sometimes wonder if she is still selling them from the same place, or whether she has moved on. I wonder if she still has the belt I gave her.
Or there was one time on the Europe Trip, in Czechoslovakia, when our car crashed into the barrier at the edge of the road when we were going down a curved road. While we were waiting for the police to arrive, I looked across the road and saw a row of three or four white terraced houses. In front of one of the houses was a postman delivering letters to the house, and I saw a girl of about eighteen (I guess?) and a younger girl of about eleven (guessing again…) by the front door. The elder girl must have been saying something teasingly to the postman, because the next thing I saw, he was going after her as she was running away from him. The younger girl seemed amused by all this. I still remember thinking something like, “They are in love.” (Haha… don’t ask!) It was such a simple, innocent little scene, and I remember watching quietly from the other side of the road (I doubt they noticed me), entranced. I wonder if they ever got married, or whether something has happened to them.
Then there was this French middle-aged couple we met at a restaurant in Italy, who just started talking to us. We had fun that evening. I took a photo of my parents and the couple, which we still have on one of the computers. They seemed like a sweet couple. I sometimes wonder where they are now, whether they’ve retired or not. And there was this guy (old or young, I genuinely cannot remember) at a bowling arcade whom we were standing behind in a queue (I was around eight years old then), who won a Dalmatian soft toy from those robotic-claw-game-things, and gave it to me. Looking back on it now, I realise what a sweet gesture it was, but I guess I was too young to understand, then. I wonder who he was (he left the place after that, I think), whether he still remembers giving this soft toy to a little girl behind him in the queue. Then there was the Hot French Guy I once met at a barbeque, who is now back in France. I wonder if he ever realises I still think about his gorgeous blue eyes smiling shyly at me as I tried to put together a comprehensible French sentence.
And then there was this friendly African American (?) lady I met in a supermarket in California, who thought my British accent was "cute" (...sigh!). And this Telugu guy I got talking to in an aeroplane, whom I was jealous of because he got to travel to Japan for his work. I wonder where they are now, what has happened to these lives...
If you look at a person’s life as a little path that they are building for themselves as they go,
using whatever materials they come across (and possibly choose) during their journey through life, you will in most cases – if not all - find the most random of bits and pieces littered occasionally across this path. They are very tiny (i.e. directly proportionate to how much of the person’s life at that time was taken up by these random bits and pieces), and they do not by any means play a significant role (or possibly a role at all) in altering the meanderings of the path, but they are what makes the path as it is. They are the smallest, most random of events that have played a role – however small – in the play of the person’s life. And what makes them different, and possibly stand out, from the rest of the path is that they are only ever there once every so often. If these pieces pretty much formed the person’s path, it would no longer be random, would it?
We are always making new acquaintances as we live our lives, of course, and I understand that each acquaintance is different from the other for a multitude of reasons (which I will not go into, lest I wander off-topic…), but it is sometimes possible to see similarities in the type of acquaintances we make. One such example is the ‘random bits and pieces’. It is these ‘random bits and pieces’ I see in my (imaginary) path, when I think about some of the people I have come across in my life so far – the ones I have met, when I least expect to make an acquaintance, whom I know I will ‘never’ (considering the random nature of these acquaintances, I guess it is safe to say never) be seeing again, but whose company I enjoyed, anyway. I think the beautiful thing about these people you come across so randomly, is that it is a one-off. You never pine for anything more than that one meeting, because sometimes it is nice – refreshing, even – to just meet someone randomly and let go of them as easily as you held on to them in the first place, taking back with you just the memories, that give you everything you ever wanted from that acquaintance.
And there is a pleasant feeling in one’s mind, when one (rather whimsically) walks down the path behind them, and thinks about each of the little random bits and pieces that they once held and placed in the path of their lives.
I find myself doing that. I find myself thinking about these random strangers that have touched me – each in their own way – and wondering what they are up to now. I know I will never know for certain, but that’s OK. There seems (to me, anyway…!) to be something… magical, surreal… about knowing that there is a girl somewhere, thinking about the people that are miles away from her, remembering them still, despite the weeks, months and years separating their acquaintance and her thoughts. I sometimes wonder if they do that, too. Maybe not all of them, and most definitely not all of the time, but still... I sometimes wonder if they ever think about the little Indian girl with a hearing aid whom they once met. If I think about such things occasionally, then surely other people do so too?
Six years ago, when I was on holiday with my parents in Egypt, we
used to walk past this young girl selling papyrus artwork on the street every day, as she was next to the hotel we were in. She must have seen the belt I was wearing (which was nothing fancy) one day, as the next day, she asked me if I would give her the belt as a gift to her. The following day, I remembered my belt and gave it to her, and in return, she gave me one of the papyrus paintings for free, which I now proudly display on my bedroom wall. I sometimes wonder if she is still selling them from the same place, or whether she has moved on. I wonder if she still has the belt I gave her.Or there was one time on the Europe Trip, in Czechoslovakia, when our car crashed into the barrier at the edge of the road when we were going down a curved road. While we were waiting for the police to arrive, I looked across the road and saw a row of three or four white terraced houses. In front of one of the houses was a postman delivering letters to the house, and I saw a girl of about eighteen (I guess?) and a younger girl of about eleven (guessing again…) by the front door. The elder girl must have been saying something teasingly to the postman, because the next thing I saw, he was going after her as she was running away from him. The younger girl seemed amused by all this. I still remember thinking something like, “They are in love.” (Haha… don’t ask!) It was such a simple, innocent little scene, and I remember watching quietly from the other side of the road (I doubt they noticed me), entranced. I wonder if they ever got married, or whether something has happened to them.
Then there was this French middle-aged couple we met at a restaurant in Italy, who just started talking to us. We had fun that evening. I took a photo of my parents and the couple, which we still have on one of the computers. They seemed like a sweet couple. I sometimes wonder where they are now, whether they’ve retired or not. And there was this guy (old or young, I genuinely cannot remember) at a bowling arcade whom we were standing behind in a queue (I was around eight years old then), who won a Dalmatian soft toy from those robotic-claw-game-things, and gave it to me. Looking back on it now, I realise what a sweet gesture it was, but I guess I was too young to understand, then. I wonder who he was (he left the place after that, I think), whether he still remembers giving this soft toy to a little girl behind him in the queue. Then there was the Hot French Guy I once met at a barbeque, who is now back in France. I wonder if he ever realises I still think about his gorgeous blue eyes smiling shyly at me as I tried to put together a comprehensible French sentence.
And then there was this friendly African American (?) lady I met in a supermarket in California, who thought my British accent was "cute" (...sigh!). And this Telugu guy I got talking to in an aeroplane, whom I was jealous of because he got to travel to Japan for his work. I wonder where they are now, what has happened to these lives...
If you look at a person’s life as a little path that they are building for themselves as they go,
using whatever materials they come across (and possibly choose) during their journey through life, you will in most cases – if not all - find the most random of bits and pieces littered occasionally across this path. They are very tiny (i.e. directly proportionate to how much of the person’s life at that time was taken up by these random bits and pieces), and they do not by any means play a significant role (or possibly a role at all) in altering the meanderings of the path, but they are what makes the path as it is. They are the smallest, most random of events that have played a role – however small – in the play of the person’s life. And what makes them different, and possibly stand out, from the rest of the path is that they are only ever there once every so often. If these pieces pretty much formed the person’s path, it would no longer be random, would it?We are always making new acquaintances as we live our lives, of course, and I understand that each acquaintance is different from the other for a multitude of reasons (which I will not go into, lest I wander off-topic…), but it is sometimes possible to see similarities in the type of acquaintances we make. One such example is the ‘random bits and pieces’. It is these ‘random bits and pieces’ I see in my (imaginary) path, when I think about some of the people I have come across in my life so far – the ones I have met, when I least expect to make an acquaintance, whom I know I will ‘never’ (considering the random nature of these acquaintances, I guess it is safe to say never) be seeing again, but whose company I enjoyed, anyway. I think the beautiful thing about these people you come across so randomly, is that it is a one-off. You never pine for anything more than that one meeting, because sometimes it is nice – refreshing, even – to just meet someone randomly and let go of them as easily as you held on to them in the first place, taking back with you just the memories, that give you everything you ever wanted from that acquaintance.
And there is a pleasant feeling in one’s mind, when one (rather whimsically) walks down the path behind them, and thinks about each of the little random bits and pieces that they once held and placed in the path of their lives.
I find myself doing that. I find myself thinking about these random strangers that have touched me – each in their own way – and wondering what they are up to now. I know I will never know for certain, but that’s OK. There seems (to me, anyway…!) to be something… magical, surreal… about knowing that there is a girl somewhere, thinking about the people that are miles away from her, remembering them still, despite the weeks, months and years separating their acquaintance and her thoughts. I sometimes wonder if they do that, too. Maybe not all of them, and most definitely not all of the time, but still... I sometimes wonder if they ever think about the little Indian girl with a hearing aid whom they once met. If I think about such things occasionally, then surely other people do so too?
PS: All the memories are… well, from memory. Therefore the details may be incorrect, but they are as I remember them.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
"I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes.."
Musical Mood: Love Is All Around Me - Wet Wet Wet.
There are some moments when you feel that, if you shut your eyes really tightly and wish with the purest and sincerest of hearts, your wish will come true. That what you really, really, really want will appear in front of your eyes if you simply really, really, really wish for it to be there. Whether this act is triggered by faith or by madness (or both), may depend on the individual, but there is in every case a tiny feeling of hope, hidden beneath our layers of logic and rationale, that somehow or the other our wish will come true, however crazy and unlikely it may be for such a thing to happen.
As I opened my bedroom curtains to welcome in the rising sun's light, this was the feeling I was flooded with. There was something about this morning's sunrise, that reminded me so strongly of my early mornings in India. It was the shade of the sun's rays - the rays were the exactly the same shade of soft gold as they were in India.
And all of a sudden, I felt a little tug coming from inside me - the kind of tug you feel when you are longing for something, that leaves you wondering whether there really is a physical response for longing, or whether you are simply imagining things in the madness of the moment. I really wanted to be back on the rooftop back home, back in India.
I wanted the brick-paved street in front of me to morph into the grey tarmac streets surrounding our building back home, and have sand (and occasional blobs of cow dung) bordering the streets on either side, instead of the picture-perfect pavement I was looking at. I wanted to see rickshaws crawling along the tarmac streets, on their way to pick school children up, and women in saris carefully navigating their way around the cow dung, carrying their baskets to put the vegetables that they were on their way to buy in with them. And little children getting ready on the road sides to sell jasmine flowers, to earn money for their family. And men opening their shops behind them. I wanted to see people brushing their teeth on their balconies, and women picking up the dried washing that would be hanging on the clothes line on their rooftop for their husband and children.
Despite seeing the hustle and bustle of getting ready for another new day whichever direction I turned to, being on the rooftop gave me a sense of serene solitude, especially during the early hours of the day. It was during those moments, standing amidst the morning breeze and watching the world around me getting on with its life, that I knew the wind was happily flicking through the pages of my mind, that were more often than not occupied with silly and curious thoughts and dreams of a young girl. (This was perhaps how my love for sunrises began, although I cannot pinpoint the exact moment for sure..)
And - I don't know why today, why at that moment, save for the shade of the sunlight giving me a sense of déjà vu - I felt a desperate urge to go back (in time as well as in terms of space) and re-live those moments again - on the same spot on the rooftop outside my maternal grandparents' flat, in between the washing area and the stairs, overlooking the little 'dump site', that used to be the recipient of many a glass of orange juice that my grandmother used to make me drink (alas, it is no longer there) - with my morning breath and messy hair and innocence.
There are some moments when you feel that, if you shut your eyes really tightly and wish with the purest and sincerest of hearts, your wish will come true. That what you really, really, really want will appear in front of your eyes if you simply really, really, really wish for it to be there. Whether this act is triggered by faith or by madness (or both), may depend on the individual, but there is in every case a tiny feeling of hope, hidden beneath our layers of logic and rationale, that somehow or the other our wish will come true, however crazy and unlikely it may be for such a thing to happen.
As I opened my bedroom curtains to welcome in the rising sun's light, this was the feeling I was flooded with. There was something about this morning's sunrise, that reminded me so strongly of my early mornings in India. It was the shade of the sun's rays - the rays were the exactly the same shade of soft gold as they were in India.
And all of a sudden, I felt a little tug coming from inside me - the kind of tug you feel when you are longing for something, that leaves you wondering whether there really is a physical response for longing, or whether you are simply imagining things in the madness of the moment. I really wanted to be back on the rooftop back home, back in India.
I wanted the brick-paved street in front of me to morph into the grey tarmac streets surrounding our building back home, and have sand (and occasional blobs of cow dung) bordering the streets on either side, instead of the picture-perfect pavement I was looking at. I wanted to see rickshaws crawling along the tarmac streets, on their way to pick school children up, and women in saris carefully navigating their way around the cow dung, carrying their baskets to put the vegetables that they were on their way to buy in with them. And little children getting ready on the road sides to sell jasmine flowers, to earn money for their family. And men opening their shops behind them. I wanted to see people brushing their teeth on their balconies, and women picking up the dried washing that would be hanging on the clothes line on their rooftop for their husband and children.
Despite seeing the hustle and bustle of getting ready for another new day whichever direction I turned to, being on the rooftop gave me a sense of serene solitude, especially during the early hours of the day. It was during those moments, standing amidst the morning breeze and watching the world around me getting on with its life, that I knew the wind was happily flicking through the pages of my mind, that were more often than not occupied with silly and curious thoughts and dreams of a young girl. (This was perhaps how my love for sunrises began, although I cannot pinpoint the exact moment for sure..)
And - I don't know why today, why at that moment, save for the shade of the sunlight giving me a sense of déjà vu - I felt a desperate urge to go back (in time as well as in terms of space) and re-live those moments again - on the same spot on the rooftop outside my maternal grandparents' flat, in between the washing area and the stairs, overlooking the little 'dump site', that used to be the recipient of many a glass of orange juice that my grandmother used to make me drink (alas, it is no longer there) - with my morning breath and messy hair and innocence.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
It's not about who you are...
Musical Mood: No Matter What - Boyzone.
This post was written very in line with the theme(s) of my blog - being lost in thoughts and sunrises. I wrote this one fine morning between around 7:29 a.m. and 8:11 a.m., whilst sitting on the windowsill in a hotel room on the fifteenth floor, with a part of the world around me asleep (the other part, out of the window, was wide awake since it wasn't too early in the morning and I was in a city), looking out into the horizon to find a beautiful dawn awaiting me. I soon found myself (as usual) lost in thoughts, and that urged me to scribble down these thoughts. Armed with a hotel pillow behind me for comfort, my legs stretched out, my hair a soft mess and a (very) bad morning breath, I began to write on the small complimentary letter pads they give you, using the pen they also give you with the name of the hotel on it, since I didn't think to bring writing material with me whilst on a busy holiday in a city. Sheesh, I find the most random places to want to write down my world of thoughts... *smile*
PS: My sincere apologies if I waste your time during your reading this. The idea behind this post is that I can voice my random thoughts out, that they will serve as memoirs for me to look back on. If what I ramble on about makes sense to you, great. If not.. your loss. Kidding!
... it's about the way you react. The way you respond to the situations life throws at you. How you handle stress and pressure, how you deal with the world hating you. Do you panic and worry, or do you handle it calmly? Or does it depend on the situation? Is it tears at every consecutive beat in the song, or laughter?
... it's about the way you act. The way you are, and the way you show yourself to the world. Are you an immature child or a mature adult? Are you an adult with a child's mind, or a child with an adult's mind? Or are you a quirky combination of the two, a unique identity that fits into none of these categories?
... it's about the way you feel. The way things matter to you. How important are the issues perturbing the world to you? Do you feel strongly about any of them? Or could you not care less?
... it's about the way you think. The way your thoughts flow, which angle you see the world from. Are you a doer or a thinker? Are things the way they seem to you? Do your thoughts go down a simple, one-way route, or do they ebb and flow, meander this way and that way, blow in various directions all at once? How does your eye, your mind, see life?
... it's about the way you live. The way you lead and execute your life, the way you make decisions. Do you live in your own comfort zone the way that society has created for you, or do you live like a free bird with no one set of rules for the wide and varied set of encounters with life you are going to have? Or do you strike a balance between the two, where no one else may be, but where you're happy? Do you follow logic and sensibility, or do you throw caution to the wind and let your heart and your instincts rule your life? Or do you find yourself a niche between the two extremes?
... it's about the way you interact. The way you contribute (or not) to the various worlds your life has to juggle. Are you a loner, or a people's person? Or are you a loner who is a people's person? Maybe even a people's person who is a loner? How much do you contribute to the world you live in? Are you an active part of every project of your life, or do you prefer to lurk in the shadows peacefully? Do you only express yourself when the occasion rises, or do you voice yourself wherever you are, whatever the situation? For you, are matters of the heart meant to be spoken of freely? Or are they emotions that can only be felt by those who need to feel them? Are there certain topics that are best not talked about, or is there no topic taboo enough for you?
... it's about the way you believe. The way your morals and beliefs spread out. Do you believe everything that you are told, or do you question everything that you are told? Do you believe instantly, or does it take you ages to embrace a belief? Or does it vary from idea to idea? Are your beliefs strong and solid, or are they simple and open? Do your beliefs stay fixed and grow stronger with time, or do they change with every page of life you turn, every new chapter of life you walk into? Do you believe in yourself?
... it's about the way you love. And I mean it in every sense of the word, because each aspect is as important as the other. Are you cold and cruel, or are you caring and compassionate? Do you love everyone in this world as your own, or do you only love those tattoed in your heart? Are you quick to love people, or does it take you a long time to find those who have proved themselves worthy of your love? Do you put names to those you love, or is each relationship so unique and special that you find it restricting to give it a name? Or do you find a way of giving each relationship an identity that works for you, if not anyone else? Are you a 'handshakes person' or a 'hugs person'? Or do you express your love differently with different people? Are you a gentle and innocent lover, or do you love wildly and passionately?
No, it's not about who you are, or your personal identity at all. These are just walls that barricade your understanding of people.
It's about your personality; your degree of insanity.
It's about your attitude.
(And please, listen to what Mr. Finch is telling you at the top right corner of my blog. You haven't walked around in my skin for long enough yet, so don't judge me as anything! ;))
PS: My sincere apologies if I waste your time during your reading this. The idea behind this post is that I can voice my random thoughts out, that they will serve as memoirs for me to look back on. If what I ramble on about makes sense to you, great. If not.. your loss. Kidding!
... it's about the way you react. The way you respond to the situations life throws at you. How you handle stress and pressure, how you deal with the world hating you. Do you panic and worry, or do you handle it calmly? Or does it depend on the situation? Is it tears at every consecutive beat in the song, or laughter?
... it's about the way you act. The way you are, and the way you show yourself to the world. Are you an immature child or a mature adult? Are you an adult with a child's mind, or a child with an adult's mind? Or are you a quirky combination of the two, a unique identity that fits into none of these categories?
... it's about the way you feel. The way things matter to you. How important are the issues perturbing the world to you? Do you feel strongly about any of them? Or could you not care less?
... it's about the way you think. The way your thoughts flow, which angle you see the world from. Are you a doer or a thinker? Are things the way they seem to you? Do your thoughts go down a simple, one-way route, or do they ebb and flow, meander this way and that way, blow in various directions all at once? How does your eye, your mind, see life?
... it's about the way you live. The way you lead and execute your life, the way you make decisions. Do you live in your own comfort zone the way that society has created for you, or do you live like a free bird with no one set of rules for the wide and varied set of encounters with life you are going to have? Or do you strike a balance between the two, where no one else may be, but where you're happy? Do you follow logic and sensibility, or do you throw caution to the wind and let your heart and your instincts rule your life? Or do you find yourself a niche between the two extremes?
... it's about the way you interact. The way you contribute (or not) to the various worlds your life has to juggle. Are you a loner, or a people's person? Or are you a loner who is a people's person? Maybe even a people's person who is a loner? How much do you contribute to the world you live in? Are you an active part of every project of your life, or do you prefer to lurk in the shadows peacefully? Do you only express yourself when the occasion rises, or do you voice yourself wherever you are, whatever the situation? For you, are matters of the heart meant to be spoken of freely? Or are they emotions that can only be felt by those who need to feel them? Are there certain topics that are best not talked about, or is there no topic taboo enough for you?
... it's about the way you believe. The way your morals and beliefs spread out. Do you believe everything that you are told, or do you question everything that you are told? Do you believe instantly, or does it take you ages to embrace a belief? Or does it vary from idea to idea? Are your beliefs strong and solid, or are they simple and open? Do your beliefs stay fixed and grow stronger with time, or do they change with every page of life you turn, every new chapter of life you walk into? Do you believe in yourself?
... it's about the way you love. And I mean it in every sense of the word, because each aspect is as important as the other. Are you cold and cruel, or are you caring and compassionate? Do you love everyone in this world as your own, or do you only love those tattoed in your heart? Are you quick to love people, or does it take you a long time to find those who have proved themselves worthy of your love? Do you put names to those you love, or is each relationship so unique and special that you find it restricting to give it a name? Or do you find a way of giving each relationship an identity that works for you, if not anyone else? Are you a 'handshakes person' or a 'hugs person'? Or do you express your love differently with different people? Are you a gentle and innocent lover, or do you love wildly and passionately?
No, it's not about who you are, or your personal identity at all. These are just walls that barricade your understanding of people.
It's about your personality; your degree of insanity.
It's about your attitude.
(And please, listen to what Mr. Finch is telling you at the top right corner of my blog. You haven't walked around in my skin for long enough yet, so don't judge me as anything! ;))
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