Sunday ke Fundae

Woot! I finished off my chem project and file, which means that a major burden has been lifted from my head.
I wanted to write about a couple of things so I will.
Firstly, I'd like to put a few arbit fundas about what we read, and how it affects us.
Now, I've heard a lot of people claim how they've been majorly influenced by books, sometimes even changing the way they think or act when encountered with a piece of fiction powerful enough, and with a philosophy inviting enough.
Quite frankly , I think this is a load of hooey. And here's why.
Look, even I've read a great few books that I would feel have changed my life, if not the way I think. The question is, do these books actually change the way you think, or do they just strengthen what you already innately believe in?
I'm going for the latter. You know why? Because the same book that I love, and I accept as something altering is uniformly accepted as crap by another person. There is nothing so powerful that it can influence anyone, and everyone. Take for example, one of my favourite books, The Fountainhead, by Ayn Rand. Now, this is actually one of those popular ones, the life changing kind, especially at our immature, mouldable mind stage. Still, I know a good lot of people who rejected the book completely, and thought it utter crap. Still more liked it merely as a piece of fiction, and neither related nor thought of the characters as something to look up to.
On the other hand, this book appealed to things I've always innately felt. What literature thus serves to do is put your thoughts into a tangible form, ready for you to see. Things you yourself haven't thought about get projected in the book, you see them, and you think "Hey, that sounds really good!" You then think the book has opened your eyes to something new, whereas all it did was show you what you already felt was true.
This of course, is very important, as the majority of us are too thick to ever admit certain things to ourselves in the first place. Thus I advise everyone I know to stop studying/working/generally living and read a few decent books immediately. Only then can you, in the wise words of the Oracle at Delphi, Know Thyself.

Anyhow, that's enough pontificating for one day. Now onto more "Mundane Musings"
I was at a restraunt today, which was a travesty in itself, as I was with whole family, who decided to go out to eat, and realised that most of them were on fast, or in serious Saatvik Navraatre mood. Now, I think the whole concept is kind of silly, if you're going to go to hell for eating bad things, I don't think its going to make a hell of a difference if you abstain from it for a few days, but hey, that's my opinion.
Anyhow, at restaurant Ma spots a Caricature artist, and tells me to go get one. I tell her this is not the time or the place, but in general, I wouldn't mind. We both mutually agree that my face is probably a caricature artist's dream come true, its already so terribly misproportioned. It is, first of all, about five sizes too small. My mother insists that my nose is two sizes too big, my eyes are strange, and I have, as many of my friends have pointed out, about five hundred different kinds of smiles playing around at any give time.
Oh, and this is all without the ultimate caricature statement, my SuperSized Chin.
So if anyone thinks they're a half decent artist, and wouldn't mind being stuck staring at my face and drawing for an hour, or a couple, I'm giving an open supari for anyone to caricature me. It would make a nice addition to the bare walls of my room.