Very recently, I re-started gym to shed off the enormous amount of fat stuffed inside of my body. I am happy to report that I have been able to reform myself into a decent shape once again, but as you know, fat is that lying-around-the-corner curse. Despite all my efforts, I still feel that I need new jeans. I hope you do not doze off to all the insignificant things that you were doing just right now because the idea embedded in this post, which I shall reveal as soon as you affirm your intentions to read this post, is kind of…interesting, and to top it off, it starts off from a hunt for some new jeans.
Marred by a boring experience on Facebook, I made it a target to take my banter onto the famous micro-blogging haven, Twitter. This was not the only reason behind joining Twitter. There were many other simple ones, too, but eventually they all coalesce back to the gist that suggests that a change is needed; Facebook is now static. The communicative interface is turning old by the minute, and even though improvements pour in, such as the introduction of the Timeline and Graphic search, it really doesn’t add anything to the element of ‘connectivity.’
Twitter, on the other hand, is a concept that might have just blossomed due to the emergence of Facebook, utilising all the things that Facebook lacked and locked down a particular niche which had a taste for blogging, but really wasn’t determined to do it the way it is supposed to be done; via a blogging website. That is okay, I suppose. Seriously, as long as you get to share things on your mind, in short excerpts, it makes it all the more interesting and encouraging for any reader to read.
So when finally Twitter started to generate some excitement amongst the ‘hippies’, it grew. There you go – being hippie isn’t so bad after all. These people are responsible for making things like Twitter a success. They tend to appreciate the effort and the potential behind such a grasping social network. In short, may be they realised that Twitter was a new way to get their message across. Fair enough. But there is a very strange, uncanny behavioural similarity between celebrities and these hippies, which sometimes gets me wondering if they’re the same. You see, all my life I have been under the illusion that somehow if man was given enough power to generate a massive following, like a cult, he would not be mired by the paltry details of life lived by a street man. Somehow, that power must be strong enough to infiltrate and corrupt ‘normal’ thoughts and seep into the action of the celebrity’s daily life. To some degree, I was right. Given the enormous amount of attention these people are afforded, no wonder do they come out and tweet things that really concerns no one but themselves. Narcissistic fools. If the media talks about them so much, haven’t they heard enough already? No, they haven’t. They still want to talk about themselves. Furthermore, what I find perplexing is the religious following of ‘sermons’ that celebrities often ‘preach’ on Twitter. For me, all of the condolences, estimations, analogies and intellectual discourse seems a little forced. Trying to get the limelight back on themselves when the conditions prevailing steal the show. Perhaps it’s natural by then, you know. All of that toxic attention does lead to withdrawal difficulties when taken away.
Life is absolutely turning horrible as each second passes away in anticipation. I wonder what people awaiting death think of, but I can imagine. Their whole life would be flashing in front of their eyes, all their mistakes and all those nitty gritty moments that they thoroughly enjoyed.
I wonder what the difference between me and those people is. I’m thinking about all the things I have done; all the mistakes I’ve made…and regret. But yes, there is a difference. I can also think of a future in a dual beam. One of these beams where my mind naturally inclines toward is the compelling rage of serenity followed by a life of chaos, of uncertainty and absolute dejection. The other is, however, rosy. Despite it’s good nature, there is something wrong with it, I feel. I dream of all those things that my life has dreamt of achieving in the last few months. I can vicariously transport myself into the life of another – a person walking down on a road leading to the academic block at SSE. The person who later, after attending an intriguing Calculus class, goes on and takes a dive at the cappuccino bar at Gloria Jeans. I wonder if one day, that person would be me.
The problem with thinking all of the ‘good stuff’ is that it doesn’t put a smile on my face. It fails to ignite me. It fails to latch me onto the banter of a glorious upcoming. Instead, it makes me cry. It kills every time I think about it. Perhaps, it’s not a dream people aspire towards because they have greater goals. But one thing I have ended up realising from all this traumatic experience is that a dream, no matter how small or big, is still a ‘dream’ and there is a lucid impossibility factor that makes it what it is – a ‘dream’.
However, no matter how I think, it will be insignificant tomorrow. Either I am going to bask in some form of self-constructed and returned glory, or it will be the final nail in the coffin of shame. Otherwise, it will be a world on fire. Where my eyes would lose the capacity to discern. Where the people around me will no longer matter. Where everything will be lost. What a strange thing this is – you see, now I know why JK Rowling incepted a creature called the ‘Dementor’, the ‘happiness absorber’, the creature that sucks everything good out from you. I feel that these conditions are no different.
I have to brace what is coming for me. And I feel like I have all the time to do that, but I won’t like to think this way at all. I want to get this over with; I want to live; I want to live without any kind of fear of the future. Sadly, fear doesn’t always come with your permission. It’s something I’ve grown to accept as integral – a beast that whips me across a narrow tunnel, beating me to death, but knowing that with every time he hits, I grow stronger.
Tomorrow approaches, my friends. You can live your life the way you live it right now or you can change it. I envy all of you at this moment, because I cannot change anything now.
Considering the fact that I have been able to convince myself that I am going to share my ‘million dollar plan’ with the world, it’s either me being not confident and telling you that it’s not a million dollar plan, or simply that I am giving the world a generous gift.
You all can thank me later.
Transportation is one of the most important part of the economic wheel. After all, without movement, materials cannot be processed, products cannot be made or delivered and people cannot get to their workplaces to run the world in the first place. Trains once revolutionised the transportation sector and also played a vital role in the Industrial Revolution boom. When Camillo Benso, Count of Cavour visited England before rising to prominence in the Italian state of Piedmont, he was impressed by two particular things; the banking structure and the train transportation system. Later, he would use these trains to ship French soldiers into Piedmontese borders to ward off the assault from Austria and to launch their own. India’s puppetry under the British administration gave it the benefit of a well established train transportation network from which both Pakistan and India today benefit.
That’s just a little on how important the trains are, but what is my plan?
My plan is slightly inspired by the current environmental woes in the world, but isn’t exactly too much of an environmentally friendly idea.
Trains today can waste a lot of fuel when they stop between one station to another. Although it’s obvious because that’s how it is supposed to be, but in my opinion, ‘stopping’ can be avoided. When a train stops and if it’s engines are still engaged, then they’re consuming fuel. It takes some good 2-5 minutes for people to unload and then another good 10 minutes for people to load again. Let assume that the train stops for 15 minutes in total for unloading and loading. When the train starts to move again, it has to do some work against static friction, which has obviously increased when the train is fully loaded as it goes by the formula “F = μ R” – where F equals ‘Frictional force’, μ equals the ‘friction constant’ and R equals the ‘ vertical Reaction force’. Vertical Reaction Force is dependant on the weight of the body and the weight has increased when there are more passengers in the train. Furthermore, the cables holding all the bogies of the train into one body also experience forces of tension, against which the train’s engine must work. All this can consume a significant amount of fuel and it takes more time for the train to reach the desired speed because now Inertia comes into play.
If somehow, we could solve the problem of the train stopping and moving again between destinations, not only would we able to save a lot of time for travelling but also help curb fuel consumption to some extent. Any fuel consumption curb is better than none in an environmentally challenged world of today.
I think I have a potential solution to this supposed ‘problem’. We can make use of alternate bogies, but this idea would be practically implementable on an open train platform and not in a subway train system. But what are alternate bogies?
Alternate bogies can be connected with the main track via a small sub track. These bogies are simple bogies without engines, however, they’re fully functional. People can be instructed to arrive at the train station some time before the train’s arrival, so that the administration can help people get into these alternate bogies in the meantime. When the train arrives, it doesn’t stop and instead, it slows down it’s speed considerably. As the speed slows down, the bogy already connected with the train dispatches onto another sub-track and the bogy filled with people for the next destination is geared, motioned and latched onto the train’s engine body. After a solid connection is confirmed, the train can roar ahead and move back to it’s normal speed.
This method would require significant initial investment in the form of sub-tracks and new bogies, but the system can be very effective. As mentioned before, the train wouldn’t need to stop, increasing time and fuel efficiency. Furthermore, it also provides a more ‘modern’ outlook to a train system which is always a plus for any city.
So that is my million dollar plan. You may think it sucks, but it actually can be an extremely practical application.
I am lost on words. Possibly because sometimes a shock is deep enough to rattle you off your perch. The unfortunate part is that the matters then slip away from your clutches, onto the mercy of someone else. When that happens, you burn from inside. You feel hollow, empty…lost. You feel this way as long as your brain can think and recall all the good times. Those good times slap you back in the face. It’s like enduring a with-drawl period after drugs.
This is the time when you have everything to give, but nothing to receive. One day, I’ll drain. One day, I won’t have the strength to continue this. As much I want to keep that day at bay, I feel that it will come, sooner or later. But that day doesn’t worry me anymore. Everyday, the with-drawl symptom’s intensity increases. I feel increasingly hollow as each day now passes.
I remember that day when I was sick and I begged my parents to not send me to school. They thought what most parents suspect at first; they thought I was putting up a fluke. They didn’t listen to my demands that day. I was forced to go. Now, I’m thrusted into a position that makes me feel horrible beyond my imagination. And there is no one who I can share this with. No one who would believe me.
You know, friends are there to console and listen to you. But no one really cares. It’s natural, too. Why would they care when they’re having a good time with their lives? Why would someone vicariously march through the desolate plains of someone else when they have their own gardens to stroll on. So this ineptitude at communicating doesn’t really count when you know there is no one to receive what you want to send.
Even after the day that I wouldn’t be able to give away anything, it will leave a deep scar. Just like the scars on my face that sometimes remind me of what I could’ve been without them. Adding another scar to the collection doesn’t seem significant, but it is. Every scar has it’s own story to tell, and the one that is now etching it’s way into me right now is the deepest of them all.
But all is not lost.
There is still hope. I can try to stop all of this. Repair the damage. And I’m trying. I’m trying.