How to fucking let go!

What do you do when you have a problem? Err... solve it, right? A BIG... FAT.... NO! Because when you have a problem, you Google it! Because most of your problems have been part of a few other lives other than yourself. And since a decent chunk of humanity is on the Internet(Don't tell me about the hungry folks in India and Africa), there's a good chance that there's a solution to your problem online, There definitely is some idiot who would have solved your query on Quora for sure.  Well, if not,
a) A google search to your problem will not give you a favorable result
b) You got yourself into a unique kind of trouble indeed

But what if Google can't answer? Do you just say "Okay Google" to your phone and throw it in the bin? Shit! Then the phone will restart your query all over again to give you the same disappointing result. And please don't ask Siri. As much as Apple advertises the new Siri on the Iphone 365 S, or F or whatever, Siri knows nothing! Zilch! For all you know, Siri and Google, or whatever that green Android thingy is called, are secretly, or even blatantly playing a joke on you. Personally, I think that the Android's shape is based on R2-D2 from Star Wars. And why do the Star Wars series characters have serious daddy-issues?
Anyway, where were we? Aha! Google has no problems to your solution? Woah! Woah! No solutions to your problems? No problem. Let's go the old-fashioned way. Let's fucking figure it out!

I have a small problem. Letting go is not my forte, and that happens to become an issue from time to time.(Damn, why am I writing this?) And so, I Googled my query which read like this post's title, "How to fucking let go?".
Yup, it's a bit more emphatic than it was supposed to be. And consequently, I did not get the answer to my question. Maybe, I could have chucked the 'fucking' part. But then I wouldn't get the pornography sites in my search results, which was a bit of a bonus, honestly. And hence, I decided to stick with the 'fucking' bit. Yup, I see this is getting a little out of hand.
The worst bit is that 'letting-go porn' is not that enticing. And so, I ditched Google, and formulated my own answer. So next time, if there's a poor soul who wants to know "How to fucking let go?", he/she will have an answer.

And now, for the answer to the question "How to fucking let go?", I honestly have no fucking idea how to fucking let go. And maybe that line sounds a little funny. Little. Maybe. Perhaps you fucking let go just like you let go. This way, you need a little extra push or something. Because as always, all it takes is a little PUSH!

However, however, however, what I did realize in my quest for an answer to my question is this. It's probably not a good idea to let go of things all the time. That's because it's when you're completely down in the dumps, bogged down by the weight of your own, non-existent demons, that some weird creativity surfaces, and you end up with a lot of things to think and say about. Even better if there's no one to talk to about this. Wow, that actually sounds sadistic.
Also, if you just look around enough, without the intentions to distract yourself from the situation at hand, you'll eventually lose track of what was troubling you. Mind you, if you know that you will get distracted while consciously attempting to get distracted, you won't get distracted. Weird right? Although what might end up happening is that you will get distracted by the thoughts of being distracted, while you are trying to distract yourself from whatever it is that is troubling you. Yeah. Chew on that, Google, you dumb bitch!

MBA nahi kiya toh....

"If you don't have an MBA, you are of no use."
If you are an engineer by education, a male by gender, and pissed by nature, it's because you have heard the above line from your father too many times. You wonder... "Steve Jobs never did an MBA, never went to an IIT, and yet became the legend he is." Mind you, that's a very dull thought. Because you are missing a multitude of people who accomplished a lot without doing an MBA or going to an IIT. But that again, is a different story.
I was watching a few Stand-up comedians doing their Father-MBA-life-planning gig. All of them were unsurprisingly engineers. This was half an hour before my dad came along and told me to start preparing for next year's Common Entrance Examination. It's been a while since I get the feeling that he's not too happy with what I am doing... Writing. Never a profession my dad dreamed I'd take up. Never mind the daddy talk. Just that I saw this talk coming. And from what I know, it's not going to be easy from here on... our conversations.
I discovered something recently. Vibes. Our thoughts are vibrations. And they surround you. Your aura. All metaphysical objects. If ever you have a very strong thought, it will manifest itself in another person in your immediate surrounding. Especially if you don't want anyone to peep into your mind and fish the thought out of you. It happens so smoothly that you find it hard to believe. I have two examples that corroborate my theory.
One is the MBA-thought I foresaw my dad coming to me with. The second happened in my office. I had to make a list of a bunch of cars that were to launch in the coming year. I missed out one. In the last moments before my submission deadline, I realized my mistake. I panicked like crazy. Just as went to make the change in the list, my boss, who had seen the preliminary list called out to me. He pinpointed at the exact car that I had missed out on. This is two weeks after he had signed off the initial list. Bloody hell. So yeah, if you have a bad thought, that is very strong in your head, it's only a matter of time before the thought infects another mind.
About the Engineer-MBA thingy, in case you are an engineer, I honestly have no idea if my dad's talking sense. Because I have no plans on becoming a human calculator for another organisation anytime soon. Ever, in fact. Maybe dads are shit-scared in general. More so if you are not the totally-out-of-control types. You see, here's the problem. You either be a complete book-worm, or you HAVE to be the jack-shit-crazy, hopeless child who no one has any grab over. The fellows in the middle, somehow are expected to be obedient, responsible, tame and stable-minded. I say daft. What a drag.
Okay, one second. My world just crumbled to biscuit pieces. I heard from a stand-up artist that there's an exclusive matrimonial site for alumnus of premier engineering and management institutes. I thought it was all a joke. So I did what any unsuspecting audience would. I googled "IIT IIM Matrimony". Here's what I found....
iitiimshaadi.com- Apparently,

ALMA MATER MATTERS

"We invite registration from alumni of top few Indian and Global Institutions" 

This website even has a fee-structure for registration. It's like bloody going back to college. Rs. 4580 for Indians, and $90 for alumnus staying in the US. 

Oi! There's hold on! There's one more site..

iitiimatrimony.com- These chaps are subtle. They just advertise themselves as the World's Premier Matrimonial site. How cute!

So that's what's going on in the mind of every engineer's father... "Beta, you as it is suck in dealing with girls. So I have a better idea. You ace your engineering from an IIT, an NIT at the very least. Then you solve some crazy mental-math problems and get yourself a seat in an IIM. Any IIM, as long as it is not the one in Sikkim. After you're through with post-graduation, we'll look for a gold-digging woman for you to have sex with, and that shall be the story of your life. Plain and simple."

So here's a question. Pipe A fills a tank in 5 hours. Pipe B fills the same tank in 3 hours. If you're an engineer, you've already started calculating the time in which both tanks will fill the tank if opened simultaneously. I know. It happens, darling. Oh! Now, there'a also a pipe that draws water out of the tank. It can empty the tank in 2 hours. Now you need to tell me the average weight of all the oranges that have ever existed.

Droopy Sunday

Sunday mornings are a little weird. Saturday didn't go as bombastic as it was supposed to. Or actually, it did. Then you have Monday, staring you right in the nuts. You're like "Weirdo". And you move on. But there's a bit of a lull. You take your guitar in you hand and strum something random. It sounds fine, but not satisfyingly so. Then, you maybe chart out the stuff you need to get sorted to be ready for tomorrow morning. Nah, boring. 
A few moments of creative void pass. There's a multitude of "things" that remain undone, as always. But you say, "Chuck all that, let's watch a movie.". So, you start a movie. But no! You can barely concentrate on the Texan accent of the buggers on the screen. You know deep down that a movie is not the call of the hour. But then what is?

A really close friend came over yesterday. I have three close friends in all. And the one who came over yesterday, taught me something. It is this. At the end of the day, you want to talk about yourself. You want to talk about yourself to the people you love, to the people you don't love, even to the people you hate for that matter. Just that the tone in your voice changes with every aforementioned group. 
Another realization I had in the last five minutes, as the fellow humans beings in my house relentlessly interrupted my concentration, is this. All your sad, bogging-down thoughts are a byproduct of joblessness. For when your mind is occupied to the fullest, you never think about the cute woman you want to woo. Actually, that's only half true in my case. Sad. But yeah, the ex's ex-communication, the horrendous driven in the morning in his ugly Nissan Sunny, the bettle-spitting chaps on the railway platform, and all the nonsense in the world doesn't make one bit of difference to any Tom's, Dick's, or Harry's wiener. 
Talking of Dicks, how did it become someone's name? I googled the word 'Dick' for the heck of it. No, I did not do myself the favor of going to the Images section. Just the Etymology part of the google search. Here's what turned out. 

dick

noun

vulgar slang

1. 1.

   a man's penis.
2. 2.

   NORTH AMERICAN

   anything at all.

verb

NORTH AMERICAN

1. 1.

   informal

   waste time; mess around.
2. 2.

   (of a man) have sexual intercourse with.
3. 
   

It's a verb and a noun! Goodness! I forgot the meaning of both the terms in class 1. From what little I gather, if a guy's name is 'Dick', he's someone's penis. Strange. I bet the chap's grandfather went by the same name. Dick's father would have been like... "I lack creativity. And my father's name was Dick. So I'm going to call my son a Dick. Let him deal with the name's connotations."
We Indians have a whole process for naming our kids. It's called naam-karan. We choose a date to name the kid. We choose from an entire catalog of pundits to nail the name bang on! In the end, we choose a god's name for the kid anyway. A whole week goes by. Then the kid cries because it didn't get to choose its name. How sad. 
If I remember correctly, we were talking about a guy named Dick. Goodness knows where he went. Sunday mornings are boring, slow, turn into afternoons, and subsequently evenings before you bat an eye. And people who you never thought you'd communicate with again, wish you good morning, because they have nothing else to do.  And......

Dear Monday,
I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I shall show you my finger.  If you let my peace of mind go now, that'll be the end of it. I shall still show you my finger though. But I will not look for you, I will not pursue you. But if you don't, I will look for you, I will find you, I will kill you, and show you my finger again. Here's to ruling the world!
Yours truly.