Don't you just LOVE that indescribable feeling of freedom that you experience at the end of a working week? It's like the weekend just stretches right ahead of you and you are under no obligation to work. You can just stretch your limbs and be a lazy ass couch potato without feeling an iota of guilt about it and its just SUCH a fabulous feeling. I'm feelin' the weekend baby!
Work can be quite tiring. You just sit there, starring at the computer screen as if the fate of the human race depended on it, eyes aching, brain twisting to all kinds of pretzel shapes as you analyze one foreign subject (which you have perhaps never heard before) after another, rephrasing, rewriting, twisting, churning, fabricating words, phrases and whole effing sentences, head throbbing, anxious to finish it all off............. At the end of the day, after you have completed your work and you're just heaving that long awaited sigh of relief, if somebody just comes along and screams at you for not doing this, not looking in to that (things that were the last things on your overtly overcrowded mind actually), not even giving the shadow of a thought to how incredibly tired you might be, you just end up feeling sad. Really, really sad.
Not complaining about work actually, I quite enjoy writing. Anyhow, the week is done and the Lady is feeling less Grouchy because the weekend is back baby! After lying on my butt for a whole 4 years at university, working for a living feels quite strange. Specially since I've always been a lazy bum for as long as I can remember :D
Its 3.56 AM and I still don't want to sleep. The weekend feels too precious to waste away sleeping and my brain tells me to savor every second of it while it lasts. And sleeping is just not a part of this super bonanza of freedom. Strange.
Should get a couple of winks now or else I'l be snoozing till my butt shines in all its glory in the full blast of the noon sun. Have some errands to run tomorrow as well. Sigh............There ain't no rest for the wicked, some wise man (men) have once said. I know, I do realize that I've been abandoning the Grouch blog and my poetry lately, but then, c'est la vie. Sigh...................So much to write, so little time :(
Friday, January 6, 2012
Monday, January 2, 2012
This, that and everything
This is a long over due post and I'm putting it down today. Do I dare type away when I have million other things piling up on that horrendous to-do list of mine? Yes, I dooooooooo!!
Anyways, walking down the streets in my neighborhood can be quite an experience. You'd think that half the male population in the country have never seen the likes of a woman before. And you'd think that the situation might improve in a while and that a better day would dawn tomorrow when a woman may walk down a street without being hindered by gaping men, stalking cars and flashing nitwits with minuscule weenies.
But no, it doesn't.
Women are to be the quiet and submissive type who should NOT, under any circumstance, speak unless spoken to and should not under any circumstance, speak out even if one is being screamed at on daily basis. If she has a complaint, the woman is supposed to put it across in such a way that it would not enrage others, more specifically, not enrage the men. And if a certain woman does not fit in to that meek little, controllable category, she is 'un-womaned' by those around her, branded, called names and cast aside. The sacred femininity that maketh a woman is taken away bit by bit, ounce by ounce until you are left a sexless stick without an identity, feeling like a sugar cane that has been well chewed and spat back out. Apparently, rebelling, speaking out and arguing is a macho thing to which the men folk have exclusive rights to. The women have to bear up with everything and also, apparently, patience is a virtue that is exclusively reserved for the women folk to practice. That's what our elders have always taught us, as little girls, as young women stepping in to adulthood. People just have this tendency to like tame animals I suppose. In an age of instant, two minute noodles, we are the kind of people who prefer visiting the zoo rather than taking the risk of going out in to the jungle to see. Tame animals are more easier to manage and thereby, more convenient to have around. But doesn't it get boring at times? I do wonder sometimes.
Which is exactly why the spineless pervs in buses, streets and markets have their own convivial ball of a time harassing women in public. Confront them and you would see them wriggling back to their perspective dirt holes after a lame comeback or two. Sigh........ there really is no sexual discrimination going on in the world, only discrimination against those who dare speak out against things that just don't seem right. But of course, in a world like ours, in order to keep one's head safe upon one's shoulders, its wise to act dumb, deaf and blind at all times. Diplomacy, my friend, is everything these days. But then again, even diplomacy isn't shield enough to protect one from speeding bullets fired off of a drunkard's gun. Sigh.....pathetic.
I remember using my fingers to count when I was small and I'd get quite confused after passing fifteen or so and often wished that I had about hundred fingers which would help me count without getting confused. Well, apparently, some ex-Commissioners General of exams still use their fingers to solve sums and sometimes, even to calculate the Z-scores of A/L students! I had NO idea! :O Well, the whole process didn't really work out and whole country blames the poor guy for effing up the whole lot but me, knowing how difficult it is to count with one's fingers, would blame the makings of the human body for not giving us enough fingers to count with. Sigh...............if only he had hundred fingers to count with, he wouldn't have gotten so confused. But such...............is life...................
Me hungry now after all the rambling, complaining, grouching around. Midnight snack anyone? Yes, ma'am! :D
Anyways, walking down the streets in my neighborhood can be quite an experience. You'd think that half the male population in the country have never seen the likes of a woman before. And you'd think that the situation might improve in a while and that a better day would dawn tomorrow when a woman may walk down a street without being hindered by gaping men, stalking cars and flashing nitwits with minuscule weenies.
But no, it doesn't.
Women are to be the quiet and submissive type who should NOT, under any circumstance, speak unless spoken to and should not under any circumstance, speak out even if one is being screamed at on daily basis. If she has a complaint, the woman is supposed to put it across in such a way that it would not enrage others, more specifically, not enrage the men. And if a certain woman does not fit in to that meek little, controllable category, she is 'un-womaned' by those around her, branded, called names and cast aside. The sacred femininity that maketh a woman is taken away bit by bit, ounce by ounce until you are left a sexless stick without an identity, feeling like a sugar cane that has been well chewed and spat back out. Apparently, rebelling, speaking out and arguing is a macho thing to which the men folk have exclusive rights to. The women have to bear up with everything and also, apparently, patience is a virtue that is exclusively reserved for the women folk to practice. That's what our elders have always taught us, as little girls, as young women stepping in to adulthood. People just have this tendency to like tame animals I suppose. In an age of instant, two minute noodles, we are the kind of people who prefer visiting the zoo rather than taking the risk of going out in to the jungle to see. Tame animals are more easier to manage and thereby, more convenient to have around. But doesn't it get boring at times? I do wonder sometimes.
Which is exactly why the spineless pervs in buses, streets and markets have their own convivial ball of a time harassing women in public. Confront them and you would see them wriggling back to their perspective dirt holes after a lame comeback or two. Sigh........ there really is no sexual discrimination going on in the world, only discrimination against those who dare speak out against things that just don't seem right. But of course, in a world like ours, in order to keep one's head safe upon one's shoulders, its wise to act dumb, deaf and blind at all times. Diplomacy, my friend, is everything these days. But then again, even diplomacy isn't shield enough to protect one from speeding bullets fired off of a drunkard's gun. Sigh.....pathetic.
I remember using my fingers to count when I was small and I'd get quite confused after passing fifteen or so and often wished that I had about hundred fingers which would help me count without getting confused. Well, apparently, some ex-Commissioners General of exams still use their fingers to solve sums and sometimes, even to calculate the Z-scores of A/L students! I had NO idea! :O Well, the whole process didn't really work out and whole country blames the poor guy for effing up the whole lot but me, knowing how difficult it is to count with one's fingers, would blame the makings of the human body for not giving us enough fingers to count with. Sigh...............if only he had hundred fingers to count with, he wouldn't have gotten so confused. But such...............is life...................
Me hungry now after all the rambling, complaining, grouching around. Midnight snack anyone? Yes, ma'am! :D
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Just one of those days.............
Just one of those days I guess. Things upset me very easily me thinks and I wish that it ain't so sometimes. But they say you've got to feel to be human and yet, being human sucks sometimes.
Not really sure what I'm doing, although there is a hell of a lot that needs to be done. One moment you can be so up high and the next, your are crawling on the ground, clutching at dear life. Words have a way of becoming splinters of glass sometimes.
Ever felt the weight of the world on your shoulders? Its like the sadness of the world is plotting on drowning me sometimes. The sadness of the dog, tied up next door, a whole day without food, the sadness of my parents aging, the sicknesses, the pain, the sadness of the boy at the supermarket counter who stacks bags and smiles innocently, the sadness of the pale girl with a shaved head on the bus smiling at me in between her pills that her mother forces down her throat , the sadness of the puppy who I HAD to watch dying because of the stupid, money-minded Vet who refused to treat him, the sadness of the girl at the KFC counter, watching a family, wondering what life is like for them, wondering about a life that she never had and never will have, sadness of past hurts, moments when I could have been more attentive but I wasn't, times that I could have been nicer to people but I wasn't all coming back in one big, black, cold mollycoddle and engulfing me, quite uninvited. Why is there so much sadness in the world? And more importantly, why does it all come back to haunt ME of all people?
I am not Mother Theresa, I'm not noble enough to dedicate my life for the betterment of the human or the animal kind, I'm way too selfish for that. I am not Virgin Mary either, I make horrible mistakes and regret them later on. But I do feel. I do feel the sadness, the suffering and I do wish that I don't feel them sometimes. Because nobody seems to understand. Nobody understands the intensity of these emotions and the helpless feeling that comes along with it. Nobody really cares enough to understand.
I'm being weird, according to most social conventions and I'd probably be gaslighted as being ''crazy'' or "dramatic" too. And NO, I'm not PMS'ing either. I feel lost. And vulnerable too sometimes. And I don't like to admit it either most of the time. Am I being arrogant, too proud and snobby in not admitting the vulnerability, the helplessness, the loss? Probably, yes. Because maybe I know no other way.
Not really sure what I'm doing, although there is a hell of a lot that needs to be done. One moment you can be so up high and the next, your are crawling on the ground, clutching at dear life. Words have a way of becoming splinters of glass sometimes.
Ever felt the weight of the world on your shoulders? Its like the sadness of the world is plotting on drowning me sometimes. The sadness of the dog, tied up next door, a whole day without food, the sadness of my parents aging, the sicknesses, the pain, the sadness of the boy at the supermarket counter who stacks bags and smiles innocently, the sadness of the pale girl with a shaved head on the bus smiling at me in between her pills that her mother forces down her throat , the sadness of the puppy who I HAD to watch dying because of the stupid, money-minded Vet who refused to treat him, the sadness of the girl at the KFC counter, watching a family, wondering what life is like for them, wondering about a life that she never had and never will have, sadness of past hurts, moments when I could have been more attentive but I wasn't, times that I could have been nicer to people but I wasn't all coming back in one big, black, cold mollycoddle and engulfing me, quite uninvited. Why is there so much sadness in the world? And more importantly, why does it all come back to haunt ME of all people?
I am not Mother Theresa, I'm not noble enough to dedicate my life for the betterment of the human or the animal kind, I'm way too selfish for that. I am not Virgin Mary either, I make horrible mistakes and regret them later on. But I do feel. I do feel the sadness, the suffering and I do wish that I don't feel them sometimes. Because nobody seems to understand. Nobody understands the intensity of these emotions and the helpless feeling that comes along with it. Nobody really cares enough to understand.
I'm being weird, according to most social conventions and I'd probably be gaslighted as being ''crazy'' or "dramatic" too. And NO, I'm not PMS'ing either. I feel lost. And vulnerable too sometimes. And I don't like to admit it either most of the time. Am I being arrogant, too proud and snobby in not admitting the vulnerability, the helplessness, the loss? Probably, yes. Because maybe I know no other way.
Monday, December 19, 2011
December :)
Its that time of the year again. The season of taking one hour to travel down a road which normally takes 15mins to travel, the season of glittering lights and shimmering tinsel, shit-pissed drivers grinding their teeth and screaming holy psalms at whoever dared cross their path, the season of merry jingles and sprightly tunes, elves, pixies and reindeer springing at you from supermarket isles scaring the chilly powder and pasta shells out of you and all over the just-mopped tiles while the lady with the mopping basket glares at you while you sheepishly melt under her blistering stare................ And oh yeah, seems like pot-bellied men with cotton wool hanging ridiculously off their chins seem to be in vogue too this season. Once you deck them in red and white that is.
All characteristic sarcasm aside, the Lady Grouch is enjoying all the festivities. Its a whole all-you-can-eat buffet for the senses out there. The sights, the sounds, the smells........ah the joy!
Yes, the Lady has been silent what with her being employed now and all (yes, I write for a living now, yipee!) but still, making a living out of writing has its pros AND cons, the best example being the silence that this complaint blog has suffered lately and all. But it sure feels good to be able to do what one is passionate about and I don't think that's a chance that everybody gets.
Back to the Grouch-a-topic, I am left wondering whether Christmas suddenly came and pounced on the unsuspecting public and started ripping their cloths off their backs that they suddenly feel the irrepressible urge to clamber all over each other in desperate cloth shopping sprees, knocking off teeth, breaking noses while snot flies in slow motion, mingled with sweat and blood, necks gone all awry, while starring at upside-down price tags for too long, etc.
I mean, everybody knew that Christmas is due on the 25th of December, right? Its not like Santa popped out of the calender and screamed Merry Xmas in the middle of June right? I mean, what the Rudolf is all the mad rush about? Well, the hustle and bustle and the racket is all very nice, but its not so peachy when one is late and needs to get some place like flying-comet fast.
All in all, its quite endearing to see a shopping cart full of shiny tinsel and other little trinkets, a full blown chicken (cz Turkey is so darn expensive here), plastic mistletoe and holly sprigs, a bottle or two of Elephant ginger beer and a good old bottle of old Arrack adorning the shopping list. Good ol Christmas, Sri Lankan style.
Went ahead and bought a few strands of tinsel myself. Although we do not celebrate Christmas as Buddhists, I remember looking forward to decorating a "Christmas tree" when Brother Dearest and I were mere munchkins. Mother Dearest would fetch a potted plant from the garden, let us unpack the big cardboard box of Christmas decorations and watch us go loca with the tinsel strands, the little golden bells, the silvery globes, the dainty little angels, etc. I still remember the beautiful smell that came out of that box, mingled with the delicious baking smells from the kitchen, because my mother always believed that every happy occasion, how relevant or irrelevant it may be for us, should be celebrated and experienced at its fullest. And I share the sentiment. So this year around, few strands of tinsel, just to honor that memory and also because tinsel, those shiny sparkly, glitzy things remind me of all the good things in life. Not to mention the Lady G's attempt to put some minced pies and probably a Christmas pudding on the menu. Mmmmmmm................
Sri Lankan Christmas where the Santa gratefully walks in through the front door ( thanking the God Almighty that there are no chimneys in Sri Lanka, except the tiny ventilating pipes from the wood stoves in certain kitchens through which nobody half sane would expect an old pot-bellied man to wriggle through) and shop assistants plastering cotton wool snow all over their shop windows while fanning themselves in the December heat. There indeed, is no place like home :)
I mean, everybody knew that Christmas is due on the 25th of December, right? Its not like Santa popped out of the calender and screamed Merry Xmas in the middle of June right? I mean, what the Rudolf is all the mad rush about? Well, the hustle and bustle and the racket is all very nice, but its not so peachy when one is late and needs to get some place like flying-comet fast.
All in all, its quite endearing to see a shopping cart full of shiny tinsel and other little trinkets, a full blown chicken (cz Turkey is so darn expensive here), plastic mistletoe and holly sprigs, a bottle or two of Elephant ginger beer and a good old bottle of old Arrack adorning the shopping list. Good ol Christmas, Sri Lankan style.
Went ahead and bought a few strands of tinsel myself. Although we do not celebrate Christmas as Buddhists, I remember looking forward to decorating a "Christmas tree" when Brother Dearest and I were mere munchkins. Mother Dearest would fetch a potted plant from the garden, let us unpack the big cardboard box of Christmas decorations and watch us go loca with the tinsel strands, the little golden bells, the silvery globes, the dainty little angels, etc. I still remember the beautiful smell that came out of that box, mingled with the delicious baking smells from the kitchen, because my mother always believed that every happy occasion, how relevant or irrelevant it may be for us, should be celebrated and experienced at its fullest. And I share the sentiment. So this year around, few strands of tinsel, just to honor that memory and also because tinsel, those shiny sparkly, glitzy things remind me of all the good things in life. Not to mention the Lady G's attempt to put some minced pies and probably a Christmas pudding on the menu. Mmmmmmm................
Sri Lankan Christmas where the Santa gratefully walks in through the front door ( thanking the God Almighty that there are no chimneys in Sri Lanka, except the tiny ventilating pipes from the wood stoves in certain kitchens through which nobody half sane would expect an old pot-bellied man to wriggle through) and shop assistants plastering cotton wool snow all over their shop windows while fanning themselves in the December heat. There indeed, is no place like home :)
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Hair discrimination *pout*
WHY is it that men are allowed to parade around with all their glorious fuzzy fur ablaze while us womenfolk have to trim, wax and shave off that natural protective layer that covers our skin??? WHY???? A question that has baffled me for ages, yet one that I haven't quite found a reply for.
Whoever that introduced the notion of the "perfect" woman as being hairless has had serious hormonal deficiencies.
Body hair (head hair, arm and leg hair, pubic hair) are natural protective shells of the human skin which is anyway an extremely delicate organ, particularly the female skin. That being the case, nature has gifted us ridiculous creatures with something like a coat to protect this delicate area with, with which we go in to a world of pain by dragging razors down our arms and legs, ripping off skin particles during the waxing process and trimming off what is not meant to be trimmed originally. Now, the removal of underarm hair is totally understandable as it can be put down solely on hygienic reasons (you wouldn't want to raise a hand and gas off an entire bus of innocent, unsuspecting passengers now, would you?) But what has those harmless arm and leg hair done to anyone??? They who are just innocent bystanders in our long journey of life are being ripped away from their beds for absolutely no reason isn't it? All they've done is protect our oh-so-delicate skin!! (At the same time making us look like grizzly bears in the eyes of superficial males and females worldwide) Apparently, beauty is as deep as the hair roots go. So are our brains. Our brains are smeared all over our skin like an expired anti-aging potion.
I put it down to this plastic age that we are living in. Hair don't grow on plastic. And therefore, hair is not accepted anymore.
No wonder they say that a person cannot achieve Buddhahood in a woman's body. They won't have time to meditate having to spend precious time shaving their arms and legs first just to be accepted by the society!!
Men with hair are widely accepted, and God forbid, women even PREFER men with a shocking excess of hair all over their body, even those with hair sprouting out of their nostrils, ears and back (ewwww!). SOME people I know (ahem) have this rather strange theory that women are 'naturally ugly' and that women have to take a special effort (as in shaving, waxing, etc) to look beautiful ( Since when did "Beautiful" become a synonym for "Hairless"?? ) Well, excuse ME, but I don't find men with hair sprouting out of their every pore droolingly irresistible either.
But who am I to question it when I myself had been a slave of this hairless system for so long, shedding my fur in an attempt to be socially accepted, without ever knowing why, without being able to ask why? But WHY?
Whoever that introduced the notion of the "perfect" woman as being hairless has had serious hormonal deficiencies.
Body hair (head hair, arm and leg hair, pubic hair) are natural protective shells of the human skin which is anyway an extremely delicate organ, particularly the female skin. That being the case, nature has gifted us ridiculous creatures with something like a coat to protect this delicate area with, with which we go in to a world of pain by dragging razors down our arms and legs, ripping off skin particles during the waxing process and trimming off what is not meant to be trimmed originally. Now, the removal of underarm hair is totally understandable as it can be put down solely on hygienic reasons (you wouldn't want to raise a hand and gas off an entire bus of innocent, unsuspecting passengers now, would you?) But what has those harmless arm and leg hair done to anyone??? They who are just innocent bystanders in our long journey of life are being ripped away from their beds for absolutely no reason isn't it? All they've done is protect our oh-so-delicate skin!! (At the same time making us look like grizzly bears in the eyes of superficial males and females worldwide) Apparently, beauty is as deep as the hair roots go. So are our brains. Our brains are smeared all over our skin like an expired anti-aging potion.
I put it down to this plastic age that we are living in. Hair don't grow on plastic. And therefore, hair is not accepted anymore.
No wonder they say that a person cannot achieve Buddhahood in a woman's body. They won't have time to meditate having to spend precious time shaving their arms and legs first just to be accepted by the society!!
Men with hair are widely accepted, and God forbid, women even PREFER men with a shocking excess of hair all over their body, even those with hair sprouting out of their nostrils, ears and back (ewwww!). SOME people I know (ahem) have this rather strange theory that women are 'naturally ugly' and that women have to take a special effort (as in shaving, waxing, etc) to look beautiful ( Since when did "Beautiful" become a synonym for "Hairless"?? ) Well, excuse ME, but I don't find men with hair sprouting out of their every pore droolingly irresistible either.
But who am I to question it when I myself had been a slave of this hairless system for so long, shedding my fur in an attempt to be socially accepted, without ever knowing why, without being able to ask why? But WHY?
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Frankenstein Poops-a-lot :)
Lady Grouchalot is covered from head to foot with bite marks, claw marks and scratch marks these days. And no, these are not the signs of domestic violence nor the marks of rough, wild, exciting sex, these are the signs of a very cute, but an absurdly hyperactive puppy-boo growing up.
Introducing His Chewingness, Sir Frankenstein Poops-a-lot, named thus for obvious reasons, is the newest member of the prestigious a-lot family, the very center of our universe these days. Today he turned three months old (Happy birthday Franky boyyyyyyy!!!) and was as usual chewing away at anything and everything in sight the last time I saw him.
Unlike most Rhodesian Ridgebacks, Franky-boo has the most adooooorable little pudgy face that I have ever seen. Which was one of the reasons why I picked him out of a litter of 8. He has the most beautiful, curious eyes that give you this quizzical look if you dare do something that he is not accustomed to seeing you do before. And he eats everything from papaya to jack fruit to chickpeas to even kola kandha, the herbal broth made from the juice extracted from various leaves churned together that Mother Dearest swears by as having intense medicinal properties (Um yuck) and even grass (Yes I do wonder sometimes) So guess who is the new household favorite of Mother Dearest these days? *sulk*
As for his ferocious, watch-dog- like qualities, he only barks at buckets these days (not kidding). In this case, the bright orange bucket that Father Dearest uses to water the plants on the balcony. Frankenstein likes to roll it here and there, topple it over and bark at it ferociously while cooking up strategic attacks in his doggy mind as to how to ambush this conniving, highly dangerous bucket in the most effective way possible. In my opinion, Franky will only bark at a burglar if he comes in with a bucket folded over his head. But guess who instantaneously transforms in to Franky's advocate every time I voice out my very realistic doubts? *slump*
Well, you can't really help it, this little doggy boy really is one adorable little bundle of energy. He is so full of love, so full of joy that whatever mood you are in, the mere sight of him sets the lopsided mouth in an upward curve. Even Father Dearest who is not so fond of animals btw, has dangerously grown attached to this little chewing machine who digs ditches in his legs when he is wearing shorts and creates holes in all his best sarongs. I suspect that even The Darling with his great philosophies of "dogs belong in the jungle, not in households" has grown fond of this little naughty ball himself ;)
Busy week ahead, what with rehearsals, interviews, trips to the vet, weddings, homecomings, baking cookies and what-not. Regardless of all these things, the Lady is quite enjoying herself reading, writing, dancing and well, enjoying her fully earned lazy days of absolute bliss. What with four years of non-stop running, it is finally time to stretch out those aching limbs and crack those very stiff, very blue knuckles before getting right back in to the rat race again. This is the time for doing all those things that I could not do for the past few years and I believe that I owe myself some mountain climbing, hiking and if possible, squeeze in a little bit of travelling as well. But in the meantime........... *yawnnnnn* , its nap time again :) :) :)
Introducing His Chewingness, Sir Frankenstein Poops-a-lot, named thus for obvious reasons, is the newest member of the prestigious a-lot family, the very center of our universe these days. Today he turned three months old (Happy birthday Franky boyyyyyyy!!!) and was as usual chewing away at anything and everything in sight the last time I saw him.
Unlike most Rhodesian Ridgebacks, Franky-boo has the most adooooorable little pudgy face that I have ever seen. Which was one of the reasons why I picked him out of a litter of 8. He has the most beautiful, curious eyes that give you this quizzical look if you dare do something that he is not accustomed to seeing you do before. And he eats everything from papaya to jack fruit to chickpeas to even kola kandha, the herbal broth made from the juice extracted from various leaves churned together that Mother Dearest swears by as having intense medicinal properties (Um yuck) and even grass (Yes I do wonder sometimes) So guess who is the new household favorite of Mother Dearest these days? *sulk*
As for his ferocious, watch-dog- like qualities, he only barks at buckets these days (not kidding). In this case, the bright orange bucket that Father Dearest uses to water the plants on the balcony. Frankenstein likes to roll it here and there, topple it over and bark at it ferociously while cooking up strategic attacks in his doggy mind as to how to ambush this conniving, highly dangerous bucket in the most effective way possible. In my opinion, Franky will only bark at a burglar if he comes in with a bucket folded over his head. But guess who instantaneously transforms in to Franky's advocate every time I voice out my very realistic doubts? *slump*
Well, you can't really help it, this little doggy boy really is one adorable little bundle of energy. He is so full of love, so full of joy that whatever mood you are in, the mere sight of him sets the lopsided mouth in an upward curve. Even Father Dearest who is not so fond of animals btw, has dangerously grown attached to this little chewing machine who digs ditches in his legs when he is wearing shorts and creates holes in all his best sarongs. I suspect that even The Darling with his great philosophies of "dogs belong in the jungle, not in households" has grown fond of this little naughty ball himself ;)
Busy week ahead, what with rehearsals, interviews, trips to the vet, weddings, homecomings, baking cookies and what-not. Regardless of all these things, the Lady is quite enjoying herself reading, writing, dancing and well, enjoying her fully earned lazy days of absolute bliss. What with four years of non-stop running, it is finally time to stretch out those aching limbs and crack those very stiff, very blue knuckles before getting right back in to the rat race again. This is the time for doing all those things that I could not do for the past few years and I believe that I owe myself some mountain climbing, hiking and if possible, squeeze in a little bit of travelling as well. But in the meantime........... *yawnnnnn* , its nap time again :) :) :)
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Evening of Poetry, Prose and Music!!
Keep the 23rd of November free! Its going to be one heck of an event, I assure you.
Organized by the English Writers' Cooperative of Sri Lanka( which has been churning out great talent since 1988), this is definitely an evening to look forward to. The greatest part of the evening is that you will be able to hear from some of the greatest poets who have paved the way for Sri Lankans writing in English, the very people that have laid the first stones for the strong foundation on which the English writing/ literature of Sri Lanka stands today. I'm sure that if you have at least, even mistakenly sat in an English Literature class for an hour or two, names like Anne Ranasinghe, Yasmin Gooneratne, Vijita Fernando, Punyakante Wijenaike would be all too familiar for your ears. Among these extraordinary icons will be sitting this years Gratian award winner, Mrs Sakuntala Sachithanandan herself.
Just for information (not that its of any importance), the Lady Grouch herself, aka moi-meme, will be reading out some of her own poetry as a part of this distinguished gathering on the 23rd. Time that you heard some poetry from her instead of her grouching around on this and that and everything, don't you think? :P
A few words must be said of this event and why it is so very important to me in a very intimate, personal level. I have grown up with the work of these veteran writers who are, undoubtedly, legends of this long walk of literature that we, as Sri Lankans are proud of. I have grown up with Anne Ranasinghe's, Yasmin Gooneratne's poetry, I have embraced Punyakante's work to my bosom, I have reveled in Vijita Fernando's translations, I have even analysed, dissected their work for my A/L and O/L English literature. They have, indeed been my idols and never would I have even DREAMT of meeting them in person, let along sharing the same stage as them, sitting side by side, reading my work, their work, sharing the same evening, the same vibes of thoughts. Its quite humbling really. And I am just BEYOND feeling honored and gratified. The awestruck bookworm of yesteryears' revel today, in the motherly love of these veteran writers as today, they have indeed become my doting set of second mothers.
Only proof that dreams DO come true if you are serious enough about your aspirations :)
Mrs Vijita Fernando has recently been awarded with the highest award of achievement there is for her service to literature at the State Literary Awards this year and I was over the moon to hear that, she being one of the best people that I have ever met in my 24 years of life. Anne Ranasinghe and Punyakante Wijenaike have also been awarded prestigious titles this year, proof that their work still inspire and touch the hearts of many even today.
Well, there is another reason that it is going to be one HECK of an event. Guess who will be providing the music for the evening? It is none other than TANTRUM themselves! Yes yes I know, quite a unique combination, metal music and poetry, which is why this event is going to be EXTRA special. They are going to play their souls on their strings and the evening is going to take flight and you wouldn't even know what hit you. You just might have to come down and see for yourselves what tricks they have up their sleeves for you ;)
The most atrocious and the most peculiar combinations prove to be the best ensembles that there is. Whether it be people, two forms of art, melodies, etc. All the more reason to look forward to the event, don't you think?
Well, despite this pain in the derriere flu that's been plaguing the Lady for days, I am quite excited about the event! The feedback itself on the event has been awesome so far and is quite heart rendering.
Flu or not, I am walking around on clouds these days. From the moment the doctor prescribed me these ultra bright, multicolored pills for me (seriously, they are like these totally contrasting, bright and cheerful pills that just make you feel better just by looking at them :D )I knew it was going to be a great week :D
Check out the official FB event page and RSVP!!!
https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=258540147529811
Hopefully, see you all there where all things sublime merge on the same horizon of rosy hues and green pastures :)
Organized by the English Writers' Cooperative of Sri Lanka( which has been churning out great talent since 1988), this is definitely an evening to look forward to. The greatest part of the evening is that you will be able to hear from some of the greatest poets who have paved the way for Sri Lankans writing in English, the very people that have laid the first stones for the strong foundation on which the English writing/ literature of Sri Lanka stands today. I'm sure that if you have at least, even mistakenly sat in an English Literature class for an hour or two, names like Anne Ranasinghe, Yasmin Gooneratne, Vijita Fernando, Punyakante Wijenaike would be all too familiar for your ears. Among these extraordinary icons will be sitting this years Gratian award winner, Mrs Sakuntala Sachithanandan herself.
Just for information (not that its of any importance), the Lady Grouch herself, aka moi-meme, will be reading out some of her own poetry as a part of this distinguished gathering on the 23rd. Time that you heard some poetry from her instead of her grouching around on this and that and everything, don't you think? :P
A few words must be said of this event and why it is so very important to me in a very intimate, personal level. I have grown up with the work of these veteran writers who are, undoubtedly, legends of this long walk of literature that we, as Sri Lankans are proud of. I have grown up with Anne Ranasinghe's, Yasmin Gooneratne's poetry, I have embraced Punyakante's work to my bosom, I have reveled in Vijita Fernando's translations, I have even analysed, dissected their work for my A/L and O/L English literature. They have, indeed been my idols and never would I have even DREAMT of meeting them in person, let along sharing the same stage as them, sitting side by side, reading my work, their work, sharing the same evening, the same vibes of thoughts. Its quite humbling really. And I am just BEYOND feeling honored and gratified. The awestruck bookworm of yesteryears' revel today, in the motherly love of these veteran writers as today, they have indeed become my doting set of second mothers.
Only proof that dreams DO come true if you are serious enough about your aspirations :)
Mrs Vijita Fernando has recently been awarded with the highest award of achievement there is for her service to literature at the State Literary Awards this year and I was over the moon to hear that, she being one of the best people that I have ever met in my 24 years of life. Anne Ranasinghe and Punyakante Wijenaike have also been awarded prestigious titles this year, proof that their work still inspire and touch the hearts of many even today.
Well, there is another reason that it is going to be one HECK of an event. Guess who will be providing the music for the evening? It is none other than TANTRUM themselves! Yes yes I know, quite a unique combination, metal music and poetry, which is why this event is going to be EXTRA special. They are going to play their souls on their strings and the evening is going to take flight and you wouldn't even know what hit you. You just might have to come down and see for yourselves what tricks they have up their sleeves for you ;)
The most atrocious and the most peculiar combinations prove to be the best ensembles that there is. Whether it be people, two forms of art, melodies, etc. All the more reason to look forward to the event, don't you think?
Well, despite this pain in the derriere flu that's been plaguing the Lady for days, I am quite excited about the event! The feedback itself on the event has been awesome so far and is quite heart rendering.
Flu or not, I am walking around on clouds these days. From the moment the doctor prescribed me these ultra bright, multicolored pills for me (seriously, they are like these totally contrasting, bright and cheerful pills that just make you feel better just by looking at them :D )I knew it was going to be a great week :D
Check out the official FB event page and RSVP!!!
https://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=258540147529811
Hopefully, see you all there where all things sublime merge on the same horizon of rosy hues and green pastures :)
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