The life of mysteries and the answers it hides in a basket of all-nighers:

It is two hours past midnight and I am no where close to "done" with these assignments. In four hours I have to wrap all this up and get ready for that new day, and nowadays because of the closed window next to my seat in the bus and the headset that booms the radio into my ears I feel insanely sane. Happy and calm. I am watching Alex and Emma on Zee Studio and I amd esperately trying to understand what this midnight means. I am out of my harem pants that were getting too tight around the ankles and have slipped myself into a beautiful pink tie-and-dye sarong. This was initially stitched to be my sister's blanket, but ended up being a multi-role playing beautiful piece of cloth. Everything keeps changing! Somehow, in this strange hour as these thoughts keep running through my head I feel this in-depth feeling to be honest with one and all. The goal of life here is not salvation, but to attain a simplicity in handling the day-to-day life and the days to come. So, the truth... My therapist (hmm...I don't know if I can call him that. I went to his center for three days, got diagnosed and well that's it) called me yesterday. He let me know that taking medication is a very important part of dealing with illness and health. This has been a debate of science and medicine in general. When did this whole trend of psychiatric medication crop up? What about Einstein? Are you going to start calling him a lunatic too? I know, I know..he is not calling me a lunatic, neither am I calling myself one. No one is a lunatic, everyone ends up having a history and a reason to do something, which might be treacherous or wonderful. It is in the talent of the individual to understand what is going on. Yes..yes..what about these people simply out of their minds..like probably, Hitler. Here is my point. As long as I am not harming anyone and I am not harming myself, everything is fine. It is this definition of normalcy that really deserves a debate. For one I do not understand the word. In which culture, in which history, is what normal? I do not condemn psychotherapy itself. If so, I would not be reading hell of a lot of psychology text books and books by psychotherapists. Believe me, for one, I would not speak about something I do not like knowing about. In that sense, the visit to the therapist, and knowing what the dance of my neurotic chemicals could be classified into, is a boon, because it is a just step closer to understanding psychology and psycho-therapy as a whole. So, it has been fun so far. Yes..that too. The crying has happened, but so has the laughing about the situation. It's a realisation process that is happening here. I am talking to myself and making myself write this on a public forum. Ever since I got to know what my "psychological" condition could be, I have had many questions about what I should do with myself, but I just realised that there are so many people out there with similar mood cycles and...(wait Alex and Emma just kissed. Where is this movie going? Why do I like it so much?)..distractions, and well..."disorders". And they don't even know it. Come on and they are living extremely "normal" lives. And here I seem to have understood what this whole "normal" concept means. They are living "their" lives, free from some kind of tabulation and labelling. What difference is that I know it? I know it and that's all. It's like what life has in store of you, at least a part of it. I feel happy and calm. This is the best midnight and al-nighter ever. Things love to change! Back to work. Goodnight.