Oreos&OxyeyeDaisies

Chalo, Quick grounding (5–4–3–2–1): We will pretend as if you don't know this method already!!!! Okay?  Okay?  I didn't hear a YES MA'AM!  ANYWAYS!!  Name:  5 things you can see 4 things you can touch 3 things you can hear 2 things you can smell (or two breaths if you can’t smell) 1 thing you can taste or one slow breath Let's dive in now!! It's pretty late (22:05 pm)!!!!  I see you walking toward the twenty-fourth door, the one that has waited quietly through seasons, glowing with a light that belongs only to you. Each step you take toward it feels steady, measured, almost rehearsed by the universe itself. The path was never without storms — yet storms only carve rivers, and rivers never forget their ocean. In the silence of your journey, I already hear the ocean calling your name, seven winters passed, carrying shadows and lessons, but they did not break you. They refined you, like fire shapes steel. Now, as the sixth dawn rises, you do no...

BEFORE WE DIVE IN, DO I BELIVE IN GOD IF YOU CARE TO KNOW?  Well I am a  “situational agnostic theist”  someone who believes when overwhelmed, doubtful when rational, and keeps oscillating between the two! Sceptical theist I pray but simultaneously argue with God like he owes me an explanation! We humans are very humble creatures… until we aren’t. We look at the vastness of the universe, the precision of ecosystems, the comedy of how mosquitoes survived every apocalypse, and we say: “Oh my God! This is way beyond us. Must be someone sitting upstairs handling it all.” And just like that God is born. God is basically a VIP pass we hand out whenever our brain says, “Sorry boss, system error, can’t compute.” Take diseases, for instance. A few decades back, cholera, plague, tuberculosis they weren’t medical conditions. They were “acts of God.” Fast-forward to today: antibiotics, vaccines, organ transplants. We literally snatch people back from death. Guess what? God quiet...

If you spill wine, drink what’s left and laugh. If you paint a fresco, don’t cover it with a blanket and tell the whole Forum not to look.  Didn't understand? Well dive in to comprehend what it means!  Rome, in the 12th year of Emperor Tiberius, smelled like baked bread, olive oil, and secrets. I was a wine seller in the Subura, and business was good because my wine was cheap, my gossip was free, and my tongue was faster than the chariots on race day. It began with Senator Aelius. He had built a marble villa outside the city walls, on a hill where the air was clean and the view was better than the wine at the Emperor’s table and on the southern wall of his villa was a fresco — a very private fresco. How do I put this delicately? Let’s just say it was… anatomically ambitious ????? The Senator’s Mistake : One morning, Aelius marched into the Forum, red-faced and shouting:  “No one is to speak of the fresco on my villa wall! No one! I’ll have any gossip punished by law!” No...

Simply, when we assume that our objective interventions operate in isolation, we risk magnifying unintended effects!!!!! Btw do you know if Kaito is worth dating? No? You will tho by the end of this!!!  The British colonial government wanted to reduce the number of dangerous cobras in Delhi by offering a bounty for every dead cobra. This was a logical and seemingly “right” solution. People began breeding cobras to collect more bounties. The population of cobras temporarily increased instead of decreasing. When the government discovered the manipulation and ended the program, breeders released the now-worthless cobras into the wild. The final cobra population became higher than before the intervention. The population model with an incentive term B (representing breeding due to bounty) shows: P(t+1) = P(t) + rP(t) + B Where: P(t)= current cobra population rP(t)= natural growth of cobras B= extra increase due to breeding for bounties Hence, good intentions without systemic thinking ...

DEAR PAHADI ARMCHAIR ACTIVIST, If women are the torchbearers of culture, then what exactly are you? Spectators? Gatekeepers who lost the keys? Or just background extras in the story of Pahadi identity ? If your only effort toward preserving culture is scrolling Instagram and judging , congratulations—you’ve truly preserved the tradition of hypocrisy.  If culture is so fragile it shatters with a reel, perhaps it's not being carried—it's being caged . If your version of "Pahadi culture" only exists to control and criticize women , then maybe it's not culture—it's convenient patriarchy in a handwoven shawl. 1. She twirls in a Pahadi dress, dances to a Pahadi tune, and uploads a reel —and suddenly, she is the face of erosion . She dares to wear jeans? Or dances to a Bollywood beat?  Out come the moral police, armed with comment sections and unsolicited advice. "We want to marry real Pahadans, not these Instagram girls." "These girls ...

The morning sun, with golden rays, awakens worlds, and chases night's gaze. The midday sun, with fervent might, illuminates all, in radiant light, The evening moon, with silvery glow, lulls the world to sleep, in gentle flow, But which of these three, is most divine? The morning sun, with its nascent shine? Or the evening moon, with its gentle beam? FOR ME, it's the midday sun, that's the supreme. I'd love to be, like thee, O midday sun, hated, yet admired, by everyone. For though thou art, a burning, fiery ball, thou canst not be ignored, thou must be faced by all. Not a fleeting dawn, nor a gentle night, but a presence vast, a searing light. Feared, yet faced by all who live, a truth relentless, no shade to give. Thy heat, and light, and energy, and might, make thee a force, that's felt, both day, and night. And though thou may'st, be hated, and despised, thou art, a presence, that cannot be denied. I'll be the sun that makes thee sweat, makes thee sigh, ...

Commitment means effort, stress, and a plan, And I love winging life however I can. "Consistency is key!" they preach with such might, Well, so is my habit of changing my mind overnight. Texts? Yes. Calls? Maybe. Future plans? No way! "Where is this going?" Bro, I just got here today! So, here’s my philosophy, it’s simple and neat, No commitment means I never face defeat! Because if you never sign up, never begin, You’ll never lose— and isn’t that a win? I can’t even commit to an ice cream! Vanilla or Some berries? Such a hard choice, Imagine choosing a lifetime voice. Politics? The biggest joke on the shelf, "We stand for change!"—except for themselves. Speeches, promises, endless delight, Until election ends, then poof—goodnight! Work goals? Of course, they’re set in stone, Until Netflix whispers, "You’re not alone." "I’ll start the project, I swear on my soul," Then spend six hours down a YouTube rabbit hole. Boss asks, ...

Oh, joy! Oh, rapture! I'm free from the fate, Of being a domestic goddess, an apron-clad mate, No kitchen slave, I! No, I shan't be tamed, By the siren song of saucepans, the seduction of flames. For I’m a gourmet of dreams, a Michelin-starred brain,   And your apron fantasies are a bit too plain.   So darling, take your pots, your pans, your plight,   And cook up a fairy tale elsewhere tonight   No, my dear, I’m not your rotis and rice queen,   I serve sarcasm for dinner, and ambition between.   If you dream of casseroles with love baked inside,   Find a microwave sweetheart; I’ve got goals worldwide. Would you like a side of “Please, wash your plate”?   Or a sprinkle of “Why is dinner always late?”   Because if apron strings are what tie us in knots,   Let me snip them, dear, before the tension rots.   My fantasies? They involve breaking glass ceilings,   Not crackin...