A Youth's Confession

I will assume that you noticed the change in my blog's outlook, namely in its template and organization. Even if you didn't, never mind, there are deeper things to be conveyed. It's 4 am in the morning which raises an all important question, why the Hell am I still awake? This is no exam time, in fact, it's Winter Break and there is absolutely nothing to be done (not counting sleeping as an activity, that is).

I could easily take away the first prize for complaining against examination and whole idea behind testing students instead of letting education be for sake of true learning. And, now that I have all time in the world to learn on my own, to explore my interests, innate philosophical queries, I scramble for a schedule that would keep me occupied. I did read some good books and watched a lot of good movies but I felt something was incomplete, something was missing. After reading Tolstoy, my belief in meaninglessness of life was strengthened while after reading Christopher Hitchen's atheist book, "God does not exist, How Religion poisons everything, I took pride in being an atheist.

I know I am rambling. What else can one do at 4 am in the morning? More than once have I felt the temptation to start an anonymous blog where I can write what I truly believe, what I truly think, what runs in my mind. I could write what I truly think here, but I fear wrath of judgement by people who know me. What I write here is simply a construct, a literary construct bounded by social protocols and conventions that appeases my readers and is far from radical or true. I want to write about religion and its impact on our life but if I were to write honestly, it would be a blasphemy, another Danish Cartoon show.

I have come to realize that active imagination begets unhappiness because the more I think, the less happy I become. In our youths, we begin to see real world situations and dream of making a difference, improving lives of people around us. Every youth thinks he is special and can really make an impact in the world. I am no exception. I used to think all the time that I could make an impact in lives of Nepalese people and that if I could get into politics, I could develop Nepal. Seeing events in Nepal unfold, it seems I am looking through the wrong end of the telescope. Dream is nowhere near. These days, even thinking about Nepal and its condition (which I feel is degrading) makes me sad. 

I think I will be happy the day I will stop thinking. A paradox