Category: Thoughts uncut

People Don’t Know What They Want

people-dont-know-what-they-want-steve-jobs-quote

Sometimes in life, you just get used to the way certain things work. You take them for granted and, for some reason, you start believing that’s that’s the way things should work. Like personal laptops, for instance. I love Apple, but I couldn’t afford an Apple product until I started working. That’s when I got the office Mac. Despite its hefty price tag, the Mac was breezy. The near-unattainable beauty was darn easy to get used to. I fell for the Mac the moment I touched it and the cool metal sent electric excitement down my spine. It felt sleeker than the “tick-tock” of my previous Windows laptop.

The Mac was a class apart from every piece of technology I had seen before. It wasn’t just its cool exterior; I was in awe of everything that came with it, too. When I tried moving from one window to another for the first time, the Launchpad popped in out of nowhere. I was taken aback before noticing the search bar on top. It was like my Mac knew I was lost and needed to find my way through a mass of apps.

I love Finder’s eagerness to find anything on my system, from the smallest file I’d saved years ago to the last website I opened a while ago. And the first time I shut my Mac off, I spent a good couple of minutes trying to close the Finder, only to realise later — with such thrill — that you can never quit looking for answers.

Then came the shock of the inverted scroll. What was shocking, though, is how natural it felt to scroll against Windows. For too long I’d used Windows without noticing that the other way made more sense. I now I cherish Mac’s re-invented inverted scroll, not to mention the way a document bounces back when you’ve scrolled all the way. It’s the little things that matter the most, and it seemed like Apple had thought of them all.

And then there’s Safari, without a doubt, the best browser I’ve ever used. Not just in terms of beauty and slivers of silveriness, but also the way it sympathises with a user. I always go for full screen, and when I move my mouse pointer towards the top to switch to another tab, it works fine without affecting my experience. What wasn’t fine, though was when I did the same in a more “hip” browser. There, the system menu showed up, hiding my browser tabs for a while. I went back to Safari to check how it handles the situation and found out that it doesn’t hide the tab names in the browser. And that’s where Safari is better than every other browser I’ve used.

Here’s the thing, though, I wouldn’t have noticed the obvious flaw in the other browsers if I had continued to use only those. I would’ve adapted and believed that that hiding the tabs was the only way to handle the case.

But the Mac showed me an alternative — a better version. We’re so used to adapting to what we already have, that only when something better like the Mac comes along do we realise we shouldn’t settle. Perhaps that’s why Steve Jobs was a visionary.

Write like Theatre

Practice is key. A performance artist doesn’t blow us away on a whim. No one can play a part for an audience unless they’ve played the part before. For the sake of one day’s show, performers practice for days, morning and noon, under lights and beneath makeup. Nothing goes out in one day and turns out successful.

A writer is also a performer. I write copy every day for websites, blogs, ads, and social media. But I never sit down in front of my computer and write the best line the first time. My best writing doesn’t pop out of nowhere; I need a warm up run first. Every day, I need to practice for show time before I dress up. I need a rehearsal, a prelude for what I’d do for the rest of the day. Because for a performer, every day is show day. For a writer, every day is a big day.

It may seem like theatre artists just breeze out and put on the best show of their life. But spontaneity is overrated. What appears spontaneous to the audience is meticulous practice on a day-to-day basis.

Theatre artists must practice every day before the show begins. And a writer must write every day before the day’s work begins. It’s a way to flex those stiff finger muscles and ease into the task of feverish typing that awaits them through the day.

Every morning, I practice on my blog. I write to get my thoughts under control. I write to bring motion back into my palms, to stretch my arms, and to get the shit out of my head. Then I edit. I go back to the first sentence and try to make it make sense. I catch a few typos and add a couple of puns. And once I’m done, I’m confident that I’ve practised enough to do more, and better, writing.

That confidence exudes at show time. Once artists are ready, they can walk onto the stage and put on a great show. Theatre or writer, toiling efforts behind the curtains — away from the world — makes successful whatever’s in front of the curtains.

After a Year

I’ve spent the last year publishing a post every day. Today, it feels like a huge achievement, at least for me. When I started this blog, my brother — my sole supporter at that time — encouraged me to write a post every day. Whether I was sick or had an exam, I had to have a post out no matter what.

I couldn’t because I didn’t know what to write half the time. And when I took up the task in 2016, it was no different. Often, I’d have no topic sentence, no conflicting opinions, and no interest, whatsoever, in inflicting myself and others with bashful political stances. I couldn’t think what else I’d write about.

Some days, I forced myself to write something — a thought, a quote, or anything — because I had to keep going. Those were tough days; days I had to battle the block and doubt my abilities at the same time. So many days I wondered the purpose of my writing, and if people would bother at all to read. But when morning dawned, I came back to my computer and wrote. Because I just couldn’t do without.

However, for all the struggling, I didn’t write glorious pieces of prose. I just wrote a lot of crap, instead. I couldn’t help it. I even thought the bad writing was a result of forced writing, but I couldn’t help but write on. After three or four months of writing a post a day, it became a habit and I ached when I didn’t write anything in the morning. By midday, I panicked.

It pained me to put myself through what I knew was an ordeal that I didn’t have to. I knew people would understand if I just told them I’d had a bad day and don’t feel like doing a blog tonight. And yet, I’m glad I pushed myself. Today, looking back at the way I’ve blogged throughout the year, it feels rewarding. My blog has become a part of my being. It’s become my nature — my thing — to write something every morning. Even my colleagues know I come into work early just to write.

It came with a cost, though. Writing every day was taxing, and I had to give up a lot of other stuff. Like Facebook, for instance. I didn’t have the time to post pictures of myself pouting in front of punch bowls. I didn’t have the time to post quirky 140 characters, and my Instagram posts became so rare that my followers got notifications: “Your friend has posted something for the first time in a long time.” But none of that worried me too much. Sure, I would’ve liked a few likes, but I had made a choice to focus on my writing.

I wrote a lot of opinions. I figured out I had opinions over matters I thought I didn’t have opinions over. And since I knew people wanted to read what I wrote, I wanted to give them some sequence. I learnt to warp the chaos within to bring order — even if only for one post at a time.

The results were satisfying. I managed to hit a milestone of 500 followers. I know it’s a small number for someone who’s been in the blogosphere for a while. Despite that, though, I’m happy I’ve got a few people who I know want to read my blog. After a year of blogging, I’ve found myself out and I’ve found out how much I love my blog.

Save Our Souls

save-our-souls

When I realised I had to go into the city — about 50 kilometres — to get a document signed at the local government office, I groaned. That’s neither a fun nor a cheap ride.

I booked a cab. As soon as I got into the vehicle, I sent the vehicle number, the driver’s name, phone number, and my destination to a close friend of mine. And then I called my friend and enquired — loud enough so that the driver heard me — if she had received my text.

It’s the safest way (until proven otherwise) to travel in India. And to cope with the local needs, cab companies have now introduced various options for riders to call for help with just a tap. As soon as you book a cab, you’ll get a message prompting you to share details of your ride to at least three people. During the ride, you’ll see a flashy red banner that’ll call your emergency contacts in seconds.

It’s protocol.

—

Having wound up a rough week at work, I was home texting a friend of mine. He had just moved abroad and had been busy unpacking and settling down. It was the first time we got to chatting in weeks.

We were discussing work when my friend said he was considering a job as a cab driver. He mentioned Uber, but anything similar would do too. Plus, this friend of mine loves driving, and the street plan in his area is great for that.

We were still talking about Uber when he informed me that cabs in that country don’t have the SOS option.

It took me a while to register that. I thought back to the previous day when I had hailed a cab and realised — with shame — that I live in a country where caution is ingrained so deep into our brains that we want them even in our apps. We don’t trust our society and we’re proud to showcase SOS as a marketable feature.

People halfway across the world, however, don’t even see the need for it.

It seems insignificant, but it says a lot about our lifestyle. We’re so obsessed with being careful that if a cab company doesn’t have the emergency feature, we look down on it just because it doesn’t have the emergency feature.

Well, that says a lot more about us than it does about the cab company’s morality and ethics.

Our conversation lasted a good 40 minutes. But every minute after that, I’ve been thinking about the SOS. So we’ve become a nation that deprives the assurance of basic safety to our citizens. Who’s to save our souls now?

—|—

And with that question, I’ll wind up this year. It’s been great publishing a post a day, every day through 2016. It’s made me realise a lot about myself, all of which I’ll cover next year.

Have a happy new year, folks.