Recent studies in rodents have suggested that….

“These studies have relied heavily on….

“Neurodevelopmental disorders typically have complex phenotypes…

“Evidence from several brain regions suggest…

“The purpose of the this study is…

“Using electrophysiological techniques in embryonic and early postnatal cortex…

*Does an Eureka-moment-dance, hoping for a shower… nay, even a drop will do*

Solitary Confinement

I need it.

Nay.

I crave it so much I can almost taste it – slightly acrid and piquant at the back of my palate.

Strange thing – the prefrontal cortex.

It can sometimes override all of those strong urges from the underlying limbic brain. Poor thing is forced to whine and go lie in a corner, while the prefrontal plays ace after ace after ace on the court – and ultimately, making us who were are – Sapient.

P.S: Its a drug. Im addicted. Ive been blogging continuously for three nights a week. Do I need an equivalent of disulfiram?

Let sleeping dogs lie…

How easy should it be to accept that that someone, suddenly realised that you are infact alive… somewhere… talking to you, asking about your welfare and is actually trying to make amends.. alongwith some extremely forced conversation?

Its like how I felt after swimming in the crystal blue-green waters of the rocky cove of Sergeto in Ischia.

The exhilaration of the cool waters hitting my warm sun-baked body, the smell of sea moss and weed in my nostrils, the cold salty aqua running through my hair roots as I cut past the gentle waves against me.

It was after I reached the shores, after a bout of gasping, energetic swimming, that I slowly realised – I had an open wound, I had lost a bit of flesh and I was bleeding freely.

Salt water on old unhealed gashes…

opens a pandora’s box of memories.

Edit – Namak

I couldnt have put it better.

Cold Hard Reality

This should have ideally ended up being a fun-fun-fun filled super excited post on my recent trip to the paradise island of Ischia, off the coast of Naples.

Ideally…

Well.. so to speak, I did have loads of fun (considering I went all on my own). Met up with an old friend for the best pizza in town, made a wagon-load of new friends at the youth hostel I stayed, got pampered by a throughly gentlemanly doctor, swum in the wide-open sea and got tanned (yes, tanned. Is it that hard to believe?)

Diving back into work the next working day, it almost seemed like I had never taken a break at all. The same deadlines stared back at me (and here I was, trying so hard to run and hide away in a remote island, away from its piercing eyes.. whatever was I thinking!); the same problems, the same goof-ups, the same disappointments.

But hey! Who wants to be called whiny-pants!.. Not me, for sure (atleast, Im trying!) So up get pulled my socks, on goes the scuba mask and my folder of accumulated papers! – Here I come!

All this, and I know exactly where I am going to stand at the end of the week – out of breath, with socks limply hanging around my ankles, the mask dangling from my ears and me more confused than I was before beginning to read the damned papers on cortical electrophysiology.

Point to be noted – I am not whining. I am only predicting.

Anyway.. its been sometime since I caught up on my usual blog-hopping haunts. This time around, I perused through a lot of writing that I had never caught up with for a long time. Good writing. The kind I almost wish I had the time to do. Made me feel great reading them, also made me feel impotent. Like I could definetly write like that, but I just underperform, justify it and thus, undervalue myself and well.. don’t write!

This feeling of impotency, ofcourse, has led me to atleast promise myself that I will try and write more frequently.

I promised all my close folks that I would try to send them a postcard from the island heaven. Unfortunately (also coupled with my innate laziness), eventhough I found the sidewalk shops littered with postcards, I couldnt find a single post office around the vicinity. Thus, I plan to get back to writing nice, long physical letters with a ink pen to people who matter to me the most – almost as a sort of catharsis.

Its 12.20am and my pillow beckons.

Maybe I should write my posts, like this. Late at night, after a hot shower and half a bottle of cold water. Things seems cleaner.