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.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
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 :)
Monday, October 17, 2011
Taming the thesis monster
Yep, I've been silent. Uncharacteristically silent.
Well, dissertations are socially alienating things. I personally believe that these evil, malicious extraterrestrial beings (disguised as humans of course) that are in charge of the education system in Sri Lanka created this final year dissertation paraphernalia solely to depress the living hell out of long suffering students or perhaps maybe, if they are really lucky, to derive the satisfaction of seeing the hapless students toast their own heads in ovens.
The conclusion of my thesis- You really can finish off a dissertation in three days. But you'e got to be as brilliant as me ( ahem) for that..................... or have the same don't-give-a-flying-fuck attitude.
The dissertation is basically a parasite that feeds off your pain. Its nerve wrecking. You walk around looking like you've just got up from a 100 year old sleep (you can practically see cobwebs hanging from your nose when you get up once in a while for a trip to the bathroom), you don't eat unless some food 'happens' to fall withing your grasp. You don't bath, your hair resembles a 70's hairdo gone bad, you don't change your cloths, your room resembles a war torn area that has been struck with a paper cyclone. Also, a dissertation may cost somewhere between 8,000- 12,000 bucks. Not counting the energy spent running around like a mad woman to cater to the absurd needs of those in charge of the education of our youngsters ; Black leather hard-bound, gold engravings, lollipops to suck on while they read your thesis, etc.
Then there are the sleepless nights. The sleepless nights of actual writing of the dissertation and other sleepless nights of WORRYING about writing the dissertation. Sunlight and fresh air burns you at this point ( yes, you have become a workaholic vampire. Not the kind that SPARKLES in the sun mind you) that you wince when someone ( usually your dear concerned mother) comes and opens up a window to let in some air and you screech your precious lungs off until she closes it again and leaves you alone to revel in your dark, somber paper-tornado-struck cavern of a room. Then there are the tortured nightmares. Nightmares of the computer crashing just minutes before you finish getting the printouts, opening the dissertation documents and finding that nothing had been saved, hugging the finalized dissertation to your chest but getting hit by a truck on the way to the department just seconds before submitting. And all this for an important looking big black book that nobody would probably even read.
And then comes the communication center crisis. You haven't slept for a week and you've finally managed to reach the conclusion of your seemingly never ending Anaconda of a dissertation and you are on the verge of reducing to a pulp anyone who so much as dare to snap their fingers in your presence. All you need to get is some Sinhala typing done for the Annex of the thesis and wrap up this sordid nightmare once and for all so that you can breath without ever thinking about how Baudelaire contracted syphilis or how many women he banged before he said adios ( Or aurevoir). The communication women look you up and down as if you've suddenly sprouted two heads and seven arms (at this point you actually DO start wondering if you've biologically transformed in to a creature with two heads and seven hands as we humans evolve according to our practical needs) and spit out a couple of razor sharp words to the effect that you will have to wait. So you wait and you wait and you wait and finally you ask them again and they give you this smoldering ( yes, smoldering) look as if you've asked them when they've last had their periods. At this point, vivid images of death by unimaginably horrid ways come to your mind and your fingers are just itching to close in on their acne-marked necks just below their frowning faces, but you control yourself, out of pure love for your dear dissertation that has to be submitted before the police could pin you down for murder. Apparently, writing a 100 page dissertation is a lot more easier than getting the Annexes typed out by these horrible, horrible people.
World is full of evil, malicious women and most of them live in communication centers. Particularly in a communication center called Echo in the heart of Kiribathgoda. That very unpleasant,.highly disgusting experience deserves a whole different post for itself.
The point is, writing the dissertation is peanut butter and jelly sandwiches compared to the whole printing /binding/ engraving/ putting up with attitudes paraphernalia that follows afterwards. Why go for all the trouble of getting print outs, binding, gold engraving when one can simply submit the soft copy of the dissertation itself? Isn't that how things are done in reputed universities worldwide? Why are we any different? Do we have plenty of time to scamper around, balancing large piles of printed paper on our heads or is it that they think that we have separate treasuries stuffed full of cash at our homes in which we like to swim around in our spare time? Either way, it really is a mammothic absurdity this binding, printing, engraving lot. Shouldn't the students be concentrating more on the actual CONTENT that goes in to the thesis rather than wasting three or more precious days in trying to get the shallow exterior of the thesis up to scratch?
Well, dissertations are socially alienating things. I personally believe that these evil, malicious extraterrestrial beings (disguised as humans of course) that are in charge of the education system in Sri Lanka created this final year dissertation paraphernalia solely to depress the living hell out of long suffering students or perhaps maybe, if they are really lucky, to derive the satisfaction of seeing the hapless students toast their own heads in ovens.
The conclusion of my thesis- You really can finish off a dissertation in three days. But you'e got to be as brilliant as me ( ahem) for that..................... or have the same don't-give-a-flying-fuck attitude.
The dissertation is basically a parasite that feeds off your pain. Its nerve wrecking. You walk around looking like you've just got up from a 100 year old sleep (you can practically see cobwebs hanging from your nose when you get up once in a while for a trip to the bathroom), you don't eat unless some food 'happens' to fall withing your grasp. You don't bath, your hair resembles a 70's hairdo gone bad, you don't change your cloths, your room resembles a war torn area that has been struck with a paper cyclone. Also, a dissertation may cost somewhere between 8,000- 12,000 bucks. Not counting the energy spent running around like a mad woman to cater to the absurd needs of those in charge of the education of our youngsters ; Black leather hard-bound, gold engravings, lollipops to suck on while they read your thesis, etc.
Then there are the sleepless nights. The sleepless nights of actual writing of the dissertation and other sleepless nights of WORRYING about writing the dissertation. Sunlight and fresh air burns you at this point ( yes, you have become a workaholic vampire. Not the kind that SPARKLES in the sun mind you) that you wince when someone ( usually your dear concerned mother) comes and opens up a window to let in some air and you screech your precious lungs off until she closes it again and leaves you alone to revel in your dark, somber paper-tornado-struck cavern of a room. Then there are the tortured nightmares. Nightmares of the computer crashing just minutes before you finish getting the printouts, opening the dissertation documents and finding that nothing had been saved, hugging the finalized dissertation to your chest but getting hit by a truck on the way to the department just seconds before submitting. And all this for an important looking big black book that nobody would probably even read.
And then comes the communication center crisis. You haven't slept for a week and you've finally managed to reach the conclusion of your seemingly never ending Anaconda of a dissertation and you are on the verge of reducing to a pulp anyone who so much as dare to snap their fingers in your presence. All you need to get is some Sinhala typing done for the Annex of the thesis and wrap up this sordid nightmare once and for all so that you can breath without ever thinking about how Baudelaire contracted syphilis or how many women he banged before he said adios ( Or aurevoir). The communication women look you up and down as if you've suddenly sprouted two heads and seven arms (at this point you actually DO start wondering if you've biologically transformed in to a creature with two heads and seven hands as we humans evolve according to our practical needs) and spit out a couple of razor sharp words to the effect that you will have to wait. So you wait and you wait and you wait and finally you ask them again and they give you this smoldering ( yes, smoldering) look as if you've asked them when they've last had their periods. At this point, vivid images of death by unimaginably horrid ways come to your mind and your fingers are just itching to close in on their acne-marked necks just below their frowning faces, but you control yourself, out of pure love for your dear dissertation that has to be submitted before the police could pin you down for murder. Apparently, writing a 100 page dissertation is a lot more easier than getting the Annexes typed out by these horrible, horrible people.
World is full of evil, malicious women and most of them live in communication centers. Particularly in a communication center called Echo in the heart of Kiribathgoda. That very unpleasant,.highly disgusting experience deserves a whole different post for itself.
The point is, writing the dissertation is peanut butter and jelly sandwiches compared to the whole printing /binding/ engraving/ putting up with attitudes paraphernalia that follows afterwards. Why go for all the trouble of getting print outs, binding, gold engraving when one can simply submit the soft copy of the dissertation itself? Isn't that how things are done in reputed universities worldwide? Why are we any different? Do we have plenty of time to scamper around, balancing large piles of printed paper on our heads or is it that they think that we have separate treasuries stuffed full of cash at our homes in which we like to swim around in our spare time? Either way, it really is a mammothic absurdity this binding, printing, engraving lot. Shouldn't the students be concentrating more on the actual CONTENT that goes in to the thesis rather than wasting three or more precious days in trying to get the shallow exterior of the thesis up to scratch?
Friday, September 16, 2011
Dog behavior resulting in the increased rate of rape incidents :O
There seems to be some sort of a doggy orgy going on in the streets these days. Jeeno is constantly hovering about the gates, darting out in to the streets at the slightest chance, only to come back very late in the evening, hardly even able to wag his tail. And they all seem to be chasing after this one female dog (she being the ONLY female dog available in the neighborhood at the moment), she is constantly being followed around by a hoard of admirers, sniffing away at the very ground her paws touched. Its absurd really, this outrageous doggy orgy, you could hear them going at it all through the night. One female and all those males too! Oh no! *Gasp, shock, heart attack!*
In this country of purity where the TV screens are blotted out with humongous squares even when the strap of a lady's dress slips off her shoulder or her skirt is lifted a tad bit by the wind, I am wondering why our highly virtuous authorities allow this kind of outrageous, highly immoral behavior of the doggies out on the streets. Well, "inappropriate" cutouts have all been taken down, "porn stars" have been arrested, young lovers strolling hand in hand are being harassed and I suppose they are all too busy censoring alcoholic and smoking scenes off films that are being telecast to attend to the child rapists and perverts that go about harassing women in public. Since all the sources from which our pure, virginal culture could be contaminated with being removed and out of the way, it is maybe the doggies going at each other in the streets that is the cause of the augmented rate of rape cases in the country?
Sexuality has always been a taboo subject in our country. Little boys' hands are being swatted away from their crotches from a very young age and little girls are being warned about this spot in their body (sort of like a death button really) that they should never touch unless they wanted to die. I for one, grew up with a mortal fear of my body, horrbly afraid of touching the wrong places and dying so young. So you see, we have always been made to be afraid of our sexuality, not understand and embrace it like it really should have been done. But things did improve as time went by, sexual and reproductive studies have been introduced in to the curriculum (although teachers chose to squirm at the mere mention of the word sex and preferred to skip those chapters) bisexuality became the "in" thing in society and people began to discuss sexuality merely to appear "cool". But there had been a paradigm shift somewhere in the near past where preserving the culture suddenly metamorphosed in to forbidding lovers to hold hands in the streets to the utter ridiculous notion of banning miniskirts (Chauvinistic much?) and blotting out 2/3 of a movie just because it had kissing/drinking/smoking scenes in it ( I had given up watching local TV channels out of pure love for my TV set)
What do the authorities expect to gain out of thus glorifying and mystifying this notion of sex? Haven't ourignorant, (ahem) learned prudes across the lake ever heard about the theory of the forbidden fruit? It is human nature to crave for the unattainable, to probe in to the forbidden and gain it, most probably through highly questionable means. So why this exoticism of something as natural, normal and basic as sex and making it out to be something perverse in the process? In Abraham Maslow's hierarchy of needs, which includes the most basic human needs like food, water and shelter, sex too is defined as a bare essential. What happens when one is deprived of one's basic needs? The results flash across your daily newspaper in big, black letters, the ruination of young, blooming rose buds, old women violated, murdered, young women with their whole lives ahead of them abused physically, shattered psychologically, scarred for life...............................
Hypocrisy is clad in white and seated in the high backed chairs in the parliament. It is from there that they decide to ban all porn sites, take down "inappropriate" cutouts, blur half of a movie and censor the rest leaving only a few minutes of watchable material, while they perform the entire Kamasutra and the whole acrobatic routine of the Chinese circus behind the closed curtains of their luxurious hotel suites. Its hard being a woman in this country. As if all the discrimination, double standards for men and women, the suppression, chauvinistic attitude that one has to suffer even from one's own kith and kin that has always oppressed the womankind for centuries isn't enough. The law makers of this country need a gender change, even if it was for just one day, stripped of their Prados, their battalions of body guards and made to take public transport, just so they realize what the ordinary woman suffers, just to get through their day. They should feel what it feels like to be groped, poked, flashed at, abused with sexually explicit words each day in public transport, on the streets, sexually harassed and discriminated at their work places. The last thing we need are sexually depressed men roaming the streets, waiting to pounce on us long-suffering females.
It takes a considerable amount of time scrutinizing young lovers hands to see if they are even the slightest bit coming in to contact with each other or censoring a film (since there is an awful lot to censor) . Why haven't these geniuses figured out that they could be capturing and punishing half a dozen rapists and public pervs and making this society a safe place for our children to grow up in during the time they stand around tearing down cutouts and analyzing, interpreting and dissecting "porn" videos that they obtained from the net?
So I suppose the authorities will take necessary steps to eliminate this appalling behavior of the doggies on the streets very soon. It is, most undoubtedly polluting, sullying, demolishing, buldozing our pellucid, pristine culture! This is, after all, the purest, most virtuous country in the whole world.
So.................What next? Chastity belts for the whole bloody nation?
In this country of purity where the TV screens are blotted out with humongous squares even when the strap of a lady's dress slips off her shoulder or her skirt is lifted a tad bit by the wind, I am wondering why our highly virtuous authorities allow this kind of outrageous, highly immoral behavior of the doggies out on the streets. Well, "inappropriate" cutouts have all been taken down, "porn stars" have been arrested, young lovers strolling hand in hand are being harassed and I suppose they are all too busy censoring alcoholic and smoking scenes off films that are being telecast to attend to the child rapists and perverts that go about harassing women in public. Since all the sources from which our pure, virginal culture could be contaminated with being removed and out of the way, it is maybe the doggies going at each other in the streets that is the cause of the augmented rate of rape cases in the country?
Sexuality has always been a taboo subject in our country. Little boys' hands are being swatted away from their crotches from a very young age and little girls are being warned about this spot in their body (sort of like a death button really) that they should never touch unless they wanted to die. I for one, grew up with a mortal fear of my body, horrbly afraid of touching the wrong places and dying so young. So you see, we have always been made to be afraid of our sexuality, not understand and embrace it like it really should have been done. But things did improve as time went by, sexual and reproductive studies have been introduced in to the curriculum (although teachers chose to squirm at the mere mention of the word sex and preferred to skip those chapters) bisexuality became the "in" thing in society and people began to discuss sexuality merely to appear "cool". But there had been a paradigm shift somewhere in the near past where preserving the culture suddenly metamorphosed in to forbidding lovers to hold hands in the streets to the utter ridiculous notion of banning miniskirts (Chauvinistic much?) and blotting out 2/3 of a movie just because it had kissing/drinking/smoking scenes in it ( I had given up watching local TV channels out of pure love for my TV set)
What do the authorities expect to gain out of thus glorifying and mystifying this notion of sex? Haven't our
Hypocrisy is clad in white and seated in the high backed chairs in the parliament. It is from there that they decide to ban all porn sites, take down "inappropriate" cutouts, blur half of a movie and censor the rest leaving only a few minutes of watchable material, while they perform the entire Kamasutra and the whole acrobatic routine of the Chinese circus behind the closed curtains of their luxurious hotel suites. Its hard being a woman in this country. As if all the discrimination, double standards for men and women, the suppression, chauvinistic attitude that one has to suffer even from one's own kith and kin that has always oppressed the womankind for centuries isn't enough. The law makers of this country need a gender change, even if it was for just one day, stripped of their Prados, their battalions of body guards and made to take public transport, just so they realize what the ordinary woman suffers, just to get through their day. They should feel what it feels like to be groped, poked, flashed at, abused with sexually explicit words each day in public transport, on the streets, sexually harassed and discriminated at their work places. The last thing we need are sexually depressed men roaming the streets, waiting to pounce on us long-suffering females.
It takes a considerable amount of time scrutinizing young lovers hands to see if they are even the slightest bit coming in to contact with each other or censoring a film (since there is an awful lot to censor) . Why haven't these geniuses figured out that they could be capturing and punishing half a dozen rapists and public pervs and making this society a safe place for our children to grow up in during the time they stand around tearing down cutouts and analyzing, interpreting and dissecting "porn" videos that they obtained from the net?
So I suppose the authorities will take necessary steps to eliminate this appalling behavior of the doggies on the streets very soon. It is, most undoubtedly polluting, sullying, demolishing, buldozing our pellucid, pristine culture! This is, after all, the purest, most virtuous country in the whole world.
So.................What next? Chastity belts for the whole bloody nation?
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Avoiding the pink elephant
One of our dogs died several days ago. I was avoiding having to write or talk about it all this while, in fact, I was avoiding her death all together but today, I just realized that I just could not walk around this huge, luminous elephant that is right there smack in the middle of the room forever. Its crazy how these things walk around following you like big, dark, cold shadows, blowing icy cold breath down your shirt as you go about your day. So I shall write about it now. And hope that the feeling will pass.
Isn't it amazing to what extent that we would go just to avoid pain? Denial of truth. Sometimes its just easier to just avoid the truth than having to face the bitter reality that is a little too real for our tastes.
She wasn't even with us for that long, it was only about two years ago that my mother brought her home, a stray puppy stranded, chewing at a poster on the roadside. She grew up healthy and stout with a rather vivacious appetite but was quite fearful, although she did a hell of a lot of barking at kites, lizards, squirrels and everything else that moved. I have to admit, she was never my favorite, Jeeno having been my super sensitive sweetheart for a considerable amount of time even before she arrived at the household. She wasn't very polite either, she was an utter nuisance sometimes, always getting in our way, always slobbering up all over the place, graceless and her loyalties lied with whoever gave her something to eat, even if it was some random stranger who happened to pass by.
We never got her sterilized because we considered it inhuman to do so. Four months ago she gave birth to six puppies half of whom she killed by sitting on them ( Maybe she thought that she was a hen??) and the other half by starving them to death ( would explain the hen theory cz eggs don't necessarily come and pull, chew and suck at your tits) She just wouldn't let the pups who have barely even opened their eyes come anywhere close to her nipples. Even after we placed them there she would throw them away with her mouth without a second thought. We tried to feed them, under the instructions of our vet but I suppose pups that small just couldn't survive without its mother's milk and care so they died. She was an indifferent mother. She didn't even care.
She had expressionless eyes, yet they were somewhat sad, somewhat fearful. They never sparkled with joy, they never expressed gratitude, they just emanated this eternal state of sorrow which puzzled us because she was a rather active dog, always pestering Jeeno to come out and play, pestering us for something to eat. She was somewhat of a glutton that one. So when she wouldn't eat for three whole days, we got worried. She did take her milk though and a yogurt at every meal so she wasn't exactly starving. Besides, dogs have these purging periods from time to time and we thought it to be normal although, we were hoping to take her to the Vet again if things didn't improve just the morning we found her dead. She never looked sick enough to die.
We have had dogs from even before I was born. We have had several dozens of different shapes, sizes, breeds, sorts, seen them grow up from puppies to adults and then again see them getting buried under the soil after having lived their share of the world several dozen times too. Each time the pain was the same and each time a new K9 member comes in to the family, you promise yourself not to get too attached and to look at them in a detached kind of way, to remind yourself of the ones who had parted and to remind yourself time and time again that this one too shall leave when its time comes. Each time, you promise yourself not to take them in to your heart, that you are not going to shed tears over the inevitable, that after all the things you've been through, you think that you have learnt your lesson and hardened up. But each time with their deaths you have to face that sinking feeling of this gloomy darkness settling upon you, the lead weight of death sitting on you like a huge iron bird hovering above you and pecking away at your brain. No matter how many times you have seen them go, its still the same kind of pain that you feel somewhere deep down. No matter how much you try, death will never be "just" another death. There really are no safety precautions against death, is there?
And now Mother Dearest wants to get a new puppy but I am not so sure. We are tending to three stray puppies and a mother dog that has been left on the lurch in the street outside our house these days. One of the puppies has just been taken in for adoption today, only two remains. We shall be taking care of them for the moment I suppose. I really cannot make up my mind to commit myself to another four legged soul again. They all end up breaking our hearts and leaving us forever. Even if you heal the scars remain. They remind us of all the balls thrown to play fetch, all the times you've held their paws at the vet, all the times you fed them, brushed their coats, being licked at completely unexpected moments, even the times they made you angry............You feel so sorry that you scolded them and all you could do is wish they were alive so that you could have given them a biscuit, a scratch behind their ears, apologize for being too harsh.........................
Why is it that we never learn? Why is it that we turn around and do the same thing, consciously or unconsciously that we promised ourselves not to do, do stupid things like get ourselves emotionally attached to things, people and animals that we know will leave one day, hurting us, wrenching our hearts out, crushing whatever it was left in us to pieces? Nothing is permanent, I know that very well, I have learnt lessons the hard way and I am still learning, but why am I still making the same mistake? Can we love without getting too attached, ready to let go whenever it requires us to do so? Will it hurt less if things are done that way? Why do we have to go and get ourselves diving head first in to deep emotional connections when we KNOW that most of the time, you just cannot trust another not to hurt you? When will we learn? Or am I the incorrigibly and hopelessly pathetic one who has attachment problems that run too deep? I hope not. The problem is, when I fall, I fall too hard, fall too deep and I cannot clamber up so easily. And I usually have no one but myself to blame for being so naive, for being so trusting, for loving, with everything I've got, with nothing to fall back on, thinking that they will live on forever. I really do hope that I have learnt my lessons from past hurts, from past disappointments, past deceptions and worst of all, past deaths of these four legged fur balls that nuzzle up to you and demand a part of your heart which they take with them when they die..................I fall too deep and I never land on my feet. And I've only got myself to blame.
Isn't it amazing to what extent that we would go just to avoid pain? Denial of truth. Sometimes its just easier to just avoid the truth than having to face the bitter reality that is a little too real for our tastes.
She wasn't even with us for that long, it was only about two years ago that my mother brought her home, a stray puppy stranded, chewing at a poster on the roadside. She grew up healthy and stout with a rather vivacious appetite but was quite fearful, although she did a hell of a lot of barking at kites, lizards, squirrels and everything else that moved. I have to admit, she was never my favorite, Jeeno having been my super sensitive sweetheart for a considerable amount of time even before she arrived at the household. She wasn't very polite either, she was an utter nuisance sometimes, always getting in our way, always slobbering up all over the place, graceless and her loyalties lied with whoever gave her something to eat, even if it was some random stranger who happened to pass by.
We never got her sterilized because we considered it inhuman to do so. Four months ago she gave birth to six puppies half of whom she killed by sitting on them ( Maybe she thought that she was a hen??) and the other half by starving them to death ( would explain the hen theory cz eggs don't necessarily come and pull, chew and suck at your tits) She just wouldn't let the pups who have barely even opened their eyes come anywhere close to her nipples. Even after we placed them there she would throw them away with her mouth without a second thought. We tried to feed them, under the instructions of our vet but I suppose pups that small just couldn't survive without its mother's milk and care so they died. She was an indifferent mother. She didn't even care.
She had expressionless eyes, yet they were somewhat sad, somewhat fearful. They never sparkled with joy, they never expressed gratitude, they just emanated this eternal state of sorrow which puzzled us because she was a rather active dog, always pestering Jeeno to come out and play, pestering us for something to eat. She was somewhat of a glutton that one. So when she wouldn't eat for three whole days, we got worried. She did take her milk though and a yogurt at every meal so she wasn't exactly starving. Besides, dogs have these purging periods from time to time and we thought it to be normal although, we were hoping to take her to the Vet again if things didn't improve just the morning we found her dead. She never looked sick enough to die.
We have had dogs from even before I was born. We have had several dozens of different shapes, sizes, breeds, sorts, seen them grow up from puppies to adults and then again see them getting buried under the soil after having lived their share of the world several dozen times too. Each time the pain was the same and each time a new K9 member comes in to the family, you promise yourself not to get too attached and to look at them in a detached kind of way, to remind yourself of the ones who had parted and to remind yourself time and time again that this one too shall leave when its time comes. Each time, you promise yourself not to take them in to your heart, that you are not going to shed tears over the inevitable, that after all the things you've been through, you think that you have learnt your lesson and hardened up. But each time with their deaths you have to face that sinking feeling of this gloomy darkness settling upon you, the lead weight of death sitting on you like a huge iron bird hovering above you and pecking away at your brain. No matter how many times you have seen them go, its still the same kind of pain that you feel somewhere deep down. No matter how much you try, death will never be "just" another death. There really are no safety precautions against death, is there?
And now Mother Dearest wants to get a new puppy but I am not so sure. We are tending to three stray puppies and a mother dog that has been left on the lurch in the street outside our house these days. One of the puppies has just been taken in for adoption today, only two remains. We shall be taking care of them for the moment I suppose. I really cannot make up my mind to commit myself to another four legged soul again. They all end up breaking our hearts and leaving us forever. Even if you heal the scars remain. They remind us of all the balls thrown to play fetch, all the times you've held their paws at the vet, all the times you fed them, brushed their coats, being licked at completely unexpected moments, even the times they made you angry............You feel so sorry that you scolded them and all you could do is wish they were alive so that you could have given them a biscuit, a scratch behind their ears, apologize for being too harsh.........................
Why is it that we never learn? Why is it that we turn around and do the same thing, consciously or unconsciously that we promised ourselves not to do, do stupid things like get ourselves emotionally attached to things, people and animals that we know will leave one day, hurting us, wrenching our hearts out, crushing whatever it was left in us to pieces? Nothing is permanent, I know that very well, I have learnt lessons the hard way and I am still learning, but why am I still making the same mistake? Can we love without getting too attached, ready to let go whenever it requires us to do so? Will it hurt less if things are done that way? Why do we have to go and get ourselves diving head first in to deep emotional connections when we KNOW that most of the time, you just cannot trust another not to hurt you? When will we learn? Or am I the incorrigibly and hopelessly pathetic one who has attachment problems that run too deep? I hope not. The problem is, when I fall, I fall too hard, fall too deep and I cannot clamber up so easily. And I usually have no one but myself to blame for being so naive, for being so trusting, for loving, with everything I've got, with nothing to fall back on, thinking that they will live on forever. I really do hope that I have learnt my lessons from past hurts, from past disappointments, past deceptions and worst of all, past deaths of these four legged fur balls that nuzzle up to you and demand a part of your heart which they take with them when they die..................I fall too deep and I never land on my feet. And I've only got myself to blame.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
100 things :)
The Lady is getting quite tired of blowing her nose. Yes, another crappy flu weighing her down and no, she hasn't taken any medication yet. But with all the sneezing and blowing that's been going on, I thought I'l try to list down a few things that make me happy for a change. So here I go. Lets see how I do :)
1. A warm scented bath when you are having the flu
2. Being held tightly and kissed while you sneeze and cough away, him not at all minding the fact that he might catch it too- Makes you feel like a thousand million bucks :)
3. Those elastic phone calls that make you feel wanted and loved :)
4. The cold bath at the end of a looooooooong and tiring day, stretching your legs on an arm chair and sipping away at a hot mug of tea- Bliss! :)
5. That unexpected text message :)
6. Spanish guitar and flamenco music *swoon*
7. Helping an insect turn the right side up when it is struggling
8. Your favorite song playing on the radio when you are having a really crappy day
9. Roses. White and red roses - Just lovely
10. Waking up and realizing that you could stay in bed the whole day if you wanted to ;)
11. Cookie dough! :D
12. Discovering somebody that you haven't met in a very long time on FB
13. Having some random person come up to you and say "I read and love your work"
14. The phrase "I need you"
15. Leaning on the balcony railings on a rainy day, enjoying the cool breeze and letting the rain wash off your face
16. Someone getting a second or third helping of a food that I've made :)
17. Dancing silly to some silly song that you don't even like
18. Meeting somebody that you have admired for a very long time in the flesh :)
19. Sound of the rain
20. The smell and the sound of the sea
21. Strawberries and cream!! - My life has never been the same since I discovered this combination. The ultimate cure for any bad mood \m/
22. Chocolate coated strawberries- think Satan just winked ;)
23. Going out of the way to step on that crunchy looking leaf or to kick that stone along the road
24. Clouds :)
25. Evening walks
26. Celtic music- Nothing short of orgasmic!
27. Sea shells- I'm just fascinated by their various shapes and forms
28. Old places- This should probably come somewhere along the top. They have SUCH a vibe to them, so much of untold tales within those walls. I'm addicted *sigh*
29. Chunky bangles and jewellery with BIG, semi-precious stones
30. Having a horrible nightmare, waking up to realize that it was just a dream *phew*
31. Suffering a breakup, waking up one morning and realizing that the pain is gone
32. Street fooooooooooooooood! :D
33. White lilies
34. That first bite in to a Mars bar
35. Solitary ramblings on a beach
36. Gigs, live music
37. Lectures ending early *yeeeyy!!* :P
38. Sudden inspiration to write and realizing that you've created something good :)
39. That first glimpse of a loved one after a long time, the anticipation, counting hours <3
40. Butterflies in the tummy
41. Staying up at night and wondering what everyone else is dreaming about
42. Chocolate fudge on a rainy day
43. Food inspirations! Creating a new dish that nobody has ever heard of (or thought of) and finding out that its actually edible :P
44. Puppies! - Again something that should have come at the top
45. Mangoes in yogurt :)
46. Helping random strangers and seeing them look all bewildered :D
47. A complete stranger coming to your rescue out of a sticky situation and turning out that you had helped him/her before and he/she remembered you :)
48. Candlelight and sandalwood incense <3
49. Early morning at the temple. Cool, crisp and extremely peaceful
50. Corsets and Victorian garments- Gotta love those classic dresses and accessories ;)
51. Anything goth- Be it gothic architecture, gothic dresses, goth music, goth make up, gothic art, etc Yeah, I'm pretty dark
52. Haunted (allegedly or for real) mansions, ghost stories, looking at old photographs and wondering what sort of a life those people had
53. Graveyards
53. Colosal Gothic churches, stained glass windows
54. Old statues
55. The Western Classics
56. A kiss on the forehead- Again something that belongs at the top
57. A SUPER TIGHT, never-ending hug by that special person- I get plenty of those ;)
58. Falling asleep in your loved one's arms and waking up next to him realizing that he's all yours- The MOST incredible feeling in the world :)
59. Autumn
60. That fleeting moment of chill when the flight takes off the ground
61. Smell of baking <3
62. Tripping, looking around and realizing that nobody had seen you :D
63. The theater- Always makes my heart pound <3
64. Seeing your parents wipe happy tears because of you
65. Running late, finally arriving at the spot and realizing that you weren't late at all! :D
66. Being early for a lecture- Believe me, its a very rare occasion :P
67. Thinking you are broke and discovering the odd thousand rupee bill in a jeans pocket that you've stowed away for a rainy day
68. An unexpected hug from behind :)
69. Friendly, non-creepy tuk tuk people
70. Upcountry train rides and putting my head out of the window and singing weird songs :D
71. Warm cheese toast on a rainy day
72. A loved one getting protective ;)
73. Holding hands while strolling on the roads
74. Politeness and good manners in men. Sexy as hell
75. Tinsel and Christmas decor! - I know I'm too old to be attracted by shining things, but what the hell! :P
76. Looking at old photos and videos and laughing, remembering the good times *sigh*
77. The smell of new books, new stationary
78. Finding that gorgeous outfit that fits you perfectly and gasping at the price tag coz its damn cheap
79. That long awaited sneeze that was tickling your insides FINALLY escaping the nostrils- Orgasmic, let me tell you
80. That first gulp of icy cold fizzy beverage hitting your throat after being thirsty for so long- Bliss!
81. That occasional realization that the life and happiness of another living, breathing, beating heart is your sole responsibility- Makes you SO grateful when that happens
82. When my doggy comes and snuggles up me when I'm in a crappy mood
83. That moment when a song, vocals or a guitar riff hits its climax, you get goosebumps and your hair stands on end
84. BIG, hearty laughter
85. Sounds of the TV, people talking and a baby crying coming out from inside a house where all its windows and doors are open
86. Getting wet in the rain and coming home all drenched while people stare at you amazed
87. Electricity going out on a rainy night and sitting there listening to the silence and rain drops falling
88. Getting a brand new electronic equipment and learning to work it all by yourself - Trust me, its a big achievement for someone who's as dumb as me in the tech savy department :D
89. Magic, fantasy and mythical creatures- Be it centaurs, dragons, unicorns, elves, vampires, griffins, krakens, hydras, etc, they get the juices flowing. Again something that belongs at the top.
90. Loooong flowing dresses <3
91. That hair raising moment when you are watching a movie and you are sure that the hero is going to lose but his armies arrive at the last moment and they have this epic victory!
92. Somebody you thought you didn't like much turning out to be a pretty awesome person and it turns out that you have quite a lot in common <3
93. Wuthering Heights and Heathcliff- I've always wanted a Heathcliff *sob sob*
94. Getting complimented on my looks on a day when I thought myself pretty disgusting looking- Yes, I'm vain like that :P
95. Pancakes!- Although my pancake cravings depend on my moods, I find that my mom's pani pol pancakes are for all seasons
96. Playing the violin- Haven't done that in a long time but, its something that makes me happy :)
97. Wind in the hair when you are on horse back- Such freedom, such speed <3
98. That feeling of absolute freedom after finishing off an assignment- Heaven!
99. Seeing so many hits on your blog's stats ;)
100. Feeling loved, wanted and cared for :)
There you go, my list of 100 things. I'm pretty sure I've missed out on another 200 something things that make me happy so I will keep updating. For now, this is it. Good night everyone. Have a great night :)
1. A warm scented bath when you are having the flu
2. Being held tightly and kissed while you sneeze and cough away, him not at all minding the fact that he might catch it too- Makes you feel like a thousand million bucks :)
3. Those elastic phone calls that make you feel wanted and loved :)
4. The cold bath at the end of a looooooooong and tiring day, stretching your legs on an arm chair and sipping away at a hot mug of tea- Bliss! :)
5. That unexpected text message :)
6. Spanish guitar and flamenco music *swoon*
7. Helping an insect turn the right side up when it is struggling
8. Your favorite song playing on the radio when you are having a really crappy day
9. Roses. White and red roses - Just lovely
10. Waking up and realizing that you could stay in bed the whole day if you wanted to ;)
11. Cookie dough! :D
12. Discovering somebody that you haven't met in a very long time on FB
13. Having some random person come up to you and say "I read and love your work"
14. The phrase "I need you"
15. Leaning on the balcony railings on a rainy day, enjoying the cool breeze and letting the rain wash off your face
16. Someone getting a second or third helping of a food that I've made :)
17. Dancing silly to some silly song that you don't even like
18. Meeting somebody that you have admired for a very long time in the flesh :)
19. Sound of the rain
20. The smell and the sound of the sea
21. Strawberries and cream!! - My life has never been the same since I discovered this combination. The ultimate cure for any bad mood \m/
22. Chocolate coated strawberries- think Satan just winked ;)
23. Going out of the way to step on that crunchy looking leaf or to kick that stone along the road
24. Clouds :)
25. Evening walks
26. Celtic music- Nothing short of orgasmic!
27. Sea shells- I'm just fascinated by their various shapes and forms
28. Old places- This should probably come somewhere along the top. They have SUCH a vibe to them, so much of untold tales within those walls. I'm addicted *sigh*
29. Chunky bangles and jewellery with BIG, semi-precious stones
30. Having a horrible nightmare, waking up to realize that it was just a dream *phew*
31. Suffering a breakup, waking up one morning and realizing that the pain is gone
32. Street fooooooooooooooood! :D
33. White lilies
34. That first bite in to a Mars bar
35. Solitary ramblings on a beach
36. Gigs, live music
37. Lectures ending early *yeeeyy!!* :P
38. Sudden inspiration to write and realizing that you've created something good :)
39. That first glimpse of a loved one after a long time, the anticipation, counting hours <3
40. Butterflies in the tummy
41. Staying up at night and wondering what everyone else is dreaming about
42. Chocolate fudge on a rainy day
43. Food inspirations! Creating a new dish that nobody has ever heard of (or thought of) and finding out that its actually edible :P
44. Puppies! - Again something that should have come at the top
45. Mangoes in yogurt :)
46. Helping random strangers and seeing them look all bewildered :D
47. A complete stranger coming to your rescue out of a sticky situation and turning out that you had helped him/her before and he/she remembered you :)
48. Candlelight and sandalwood incense <3
49. Early morning at the temple. Cool, crisp and extremely peaceful
50. Corsets and Victorian garments- Gotta love those classic dresses and accessories ;)
51. Anything goth- Be it gothic architecture, gothic dresses, goth music, goth make up, gothic art, etc Yeah, I'm pretty dark
52. Haunted (allegedly or for real) mansions, ghost stories, looking at old photographs and wondering what sort of a life those people had
53. Graveyards
53. Colosal Gothic churches, stained glass windows
54. Old statues
55. The Western Classics
56. A kiss on the forehead- Again something that belongs at the top
57. A SUPER TIGHT, never-ending hug by that special person- I get plenty of those ;)
58. Falling asleep in your loved one's arms and waking up next to him realizing that he's all yours- The MOST incredible feeling in the world :)
59. Autumn
60. That fleeting moment of chill when the flight takes off the ground
61. Smell of baking <3
62. Tripping, looking around and realizing that nobody had seen you :D
63. The theater- Always makes my heart pound <3
64. Seeing your parents wipe happy tears because of you
65. Running late, finally arriving at the spot and realizing that you weren't late at all! :D
66. Being early for a lecture- Believe me, its a very rare occasion :P
67. Thinking you are broke and discovering the odd thousand rupee bill in a jeans pocket that you've stowed away for a rainy day
68. An unexpected hug from behind :)
69. Friendly, non-creepy tuk tuk people
70. Upcountry train rides and putting my head out of the window and singing weird songs :D
71. Warm cheese toast on a rainy day
72. A loved one getting protective ;)
73. Holding hands while strolling on the roads
74. Politeness and good manners in men. Sexy as hell
75. Tinsel and Christmas decor! - I know I'm too old to be attracted by shining things, but what the hell! :P
76. Looking at old photos and videos and laughing, remembering the good times *sigh*
77. The smell of new books, new stationary
78. Finding that gorgeous outfit that fits you perfectly and gasping at the price tag coz its damn cheap
79. That long awaited sneeze that was tickling your insides FINALLY escaping the nostrils- Orgasmic, let me tell you
80. That first gulp of icy cold fizzy beverage hitting your throat after being thirsty for so long- Bliss!
81. That occasional realization that the life and happiness of another living, breathing, beating heart is your sole responsibility- Makes you SO grateful when that happens
82. When my doggy comes and snuggles up me when I'm in a crappy mood
83. That moment when a song, vocals or a guitar riff hits its climax, you get goosebumps and your hair stands on end
84. BIG, hearty laughter
85. Sounds of the TV, people talking and a baby crying coming out from inside a house where all its windows and doors are open
86. Getting wet in the rain and coming home all drenched while people stare at you amazed
87. Electricity going out on a rainy night and sitting there listening to the silence and rain drops falling
88. Getting a brand new electronic equipment and learning to work it all by yourself - Trust me, its a big achievement for someone who's as dumb as me in the tech savy department :D
89. Magic, fantasy and mythical creatures- Be it centaurs, dragons, unicorns, elves, vampires, griffins, krakens, hydras, etc, they get the juices flowing. Again something that belongs at the top.
90. Loooong flowing dresses <3
91. That hair raising moment when you are watching a movie and you are sure that the hero is going to lose but his armies arrive at the last moment and they have this epic victory!
92. Somebody you thought you didn't like much turning out to be a pretty awesome person and it turns out that you have quite a lot in common <3
93. Wuthering Heights and Heathcliff- I've always wanted a Heathcliff *sob sob*
94. Getting complimented on my looks on a day when I thought myself pretty disgusting looking- Yes, I'm vain like that :P
95. Pancakes!- Although my pancake cravings depend on my moods, I find that my mom's pani pol pancakes are for all seasons
96. Playing the violin- Haven't done that in a long time but, its something that makes me happy :)
97. Wind in the hair when you are on horse back- Such freedom, such speed <3
98. That feeling of absolute freedom after finishing off an assignment- Heaven!
99. Seeing so many hits on your blog's stats ;)
100. Feeling loved, wanted and cared for :)
There you go, my list of 100 things. I'm pretty sure I've missed out on another 200 something things that make me happy so I will keep updating. For now, this is it. Good night everyone. Have a great night :)
Monday, August 29, 2011
Fried rice just got fried
So, the Lady is quite grouchy again today. Apparently, the head chef of our favorite local Chinese restaurant (that we order takeouts from quite frequently) had decided to take a day off and we the unsuspecting, just happened to make the mistake of ordering from it today itself. Resulting in, of course, that heart-sinking feeling of near fatal disappointment which kills in you all the fondness that you had towards that particular dish or that particular restaurant. Its like hearing one of your favorite songs day in and day out on your iPod and then going to a concert and hearing it being majorly effed up by the band. Sigh............
This particular restaurant is something that we had grown to love over the years. Its super customer-friendly, express service, the food is yummy and affordable and most importantly, the food has acquired that wonderful homey sort of feeling that comes only with years and years of familiarity. And you never really get bored with the food and best of all, it has never reduced its quality. What with the fluctuating economy of the country these days and the restaurants reducing the portion sizes, getting more and more stingy with the amount of proteins, vegetables, etc that they use in the dishes and placing ridiculous prices on the menu cards and all, this particular restaurant has stayed true to its customers throughout all these years. Which still attracts the same customer base which it attracted five years ago and the number just keeps on increasing. Being true to your customer and loving what you do has its advantages you see.
With all these plus points to its credit I know I shouldn't be grouching about just one disappointing meal but this post is has the noble intention of merely making the point that the customer knows when the chef had changed. Because we knew at the very unearthing of the parcels that it was not the same. The usual rice that we get from it is cooked to perfection and gleams up at you like little tiny pearls once you open them up but today, the rice looked grainy and crushed at the very outset of it. It was, indeed very grainy and scandalously under cooked. Plus it had these large (and I mean LARGE) lumps of limp, watery rice stuck together in clots which just drove away your appetite at just one bite. One thing I really used to love about this particular fried rice is their amazing textures. The rice was nice and not too wet, gluggy OR greasy, the vegetables fresh and crunchy while the pork has been incorporated in the rice in a rather clever way. They just used the fatty part of the pork so that when you chew on a mouthful of rice, these juicy, succulent particles of fat just explode in your mouth giving you this plethora of flavors and lubrication that is essential in getting the comparatively dry rice down your system. But today, the meat particles had been burnt to cinders and you can practically feel them falling apart in your mouth like little blocks of charred carbon. They had used the same sort of ingredients today alright, but only thing, the earlier juicy, succulent and flavorsome pieces of fatty pork had been so overcooked that they had become all rubbery and inedible. It honestly felt like chewing pieces of tasteless, insipid leather. Such a waste.
Not to mention the chicken bones and the overdose of ajinomoto. You just cringe as you bite in to huge balls of this particular flavor enhancer (?) in the clumped up rice and you can very well see the hair on your arms and legs stand on their ends. Woe be gone to whoever discovered this horrendous creation called ajinomoto which most people in a food industry laden with careless, lazy cooks seem to think is the best thing that happened to them since microwave pizza. To say nothing of the profusion of chicken bones which almost performed dental surgery on my gums. I still shiver at the thought of it.
I know that I am a rather harsh food critic, (I've often been told that) but its just that I hate to see such beautiful ingredients being misused, abused and ill treated and it just breaks my heart. Like I mentioned in one of my earlier posts, food need to be treated with love and only then will they treat you back with love (refer to Newton's 2nd law on motion : For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Newton had, after all, said quite a few things which makes sense) which is true to love, care, food and everything else I suppose. Except karma and Wicca where the reaction comes boomeranging back to you threefold, but that's another post for another day.
Just went downstairs to make myself a cup of coffee but was quite disappointed to find the instant coffee all glued up together in one big mush in the bottle. Its really annoying when that happens and you can't really keep em powdery for too long once you open it. I've heard that instant coffee is not "real" coffee but its sure as hell easy to make. Its what they serve on planes, although it takes two or more packets of cream and sugar just to make it even slightly drinkable. I just hate it when they serve coffee on long flights. Keeps you up during the whole flight when you might as well have a sound sleep to avoid feeling jet lagged for a whole day after you've had landed. Nothing beats the good ol local Harischandra coffee I tell you. That's the real deal.
Getting back to the restaurant disappointment story, we later on found out that since there was nobody to cook in the kitchen that day, it was the cashier himself that had gone in to the kitchen and whipped up the dishes. All the more reason that one should stick to one's designated profession eh? Anyways, I just wish they had warned us, what with us being loyal customers for as long as we and them can remember and all. Well, one spoilt dish cannot spoil years and years of great dishes which earned them our unflinching loyalty. Its once again like your favorite band not living up to your expectations during one particular performance. You stay loyal nevertheless. Or the little mistakes that a loved one makes or that one little mosquito bite on an otherwise terrific night out. We humans (at least some of us) have incredible self healing powers. Or is it just our faith and sense of loyalty that lends it to us? Either way, you just learn to forgive and forget and move on with your faith like you always do. And that is how it should always be. You move on :)
This particular restaurant is something that we had grown to love over the years. Its super customer-friendly, express service, the food is yummy and affordable and most importantly, the food has acquired that wonderful homey sort of feeling that comes only with years and years of familiarity. And you never really get bored with the food and best of all, it has never reduced its quality. What with the fluctuating economy of the country these days and the restaurants reducing the portion sizes, getting more and more stingy with the amount of proteins, vegetables, etc that they use in the dishes and placing ridiculous prices on the menu cards and all, this particular restaurant has stayed true to its customers throughout all these years. Which still attracts the same customer base which it attracted five years ago and the number just keeps on increasing. Being true to your customer and loving what you do has its advantages you see.
With all these plus points to its credit I know I shouldn't be grouching about just one disappointing meal but this post is has the noble intention of merely making the point that the customer knows when the chef had changed. Because we knew at the very unearthing of the parcels that it was not the same. The usual rice that we get from it is cooked to perfection and gleams up at you like little tiny pearls once you open them up but today, the rice looked grainy and crushed at the very outset of it. It was, indeed very grainy and scandalously under cooked. Plus it had these large (and I mean LARGE) lumps of limp, watery rice stuck together in clots which just drove away your appetite at just one bite. One thing I really used to love about this particular fried rice is their amazing textures. The rice was nice and not too wet, gluggy OR greasy, the vegetables fresh and crunchy while the pork has been incorporated in the rice in a rather clever way. They just used the fatty part of the pork so that when you chew on a mouthful of rice, these juicy, succulent particles of fat just explode in your mouth giving you this plethora of flavors and lubrication that is essential in getting the comparatively dry rice down your system. But today, the meat particles had been burnt to cinders and you can practically feel them falling apart in your mouth like little blocks of charred carbon. They had used the same sort of ingredients today alright, but only thing, the earlier juicy, succulent and flavorsome pieces of fatty pork had been so overcooked that they had become all rubbery and inedible. It honestly felt like chewing pieces of tasteless, insipid leather. Such a waste.
Not to mention the chicken bones and the overdose of ajinomoto. You just cringe as you bite in to huge balls of this particular flavor enhancer (?) in the clumped up rice and you can very well see the hair on your arms and legs stand on their ends. Woe be gone to whoever discovered this horrendous creation called ajinomoto which most people in a food industry laden with careless, lazy cooks seem to think is the best thing that happened to them since microwave pizza. To say nothing of the profusion of chicken bones which almost performed dental surgery on my gums. I still shiver at the thought of it.
I know that I am a rather harsh food critic, (I've often been told that) but its just that I hate to see such beautiful ingredients being misused, abused and ill treated and it just breaks my heart. Like I mentioned in one of my earlier posts, food need to be treated with love and only then will they treat you back with love (refer to Newton's 2nd law on motion : For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. Newton had, after all, said quite a few things which makes sense) which is true to love, care, food and everything else I suppose. Except karma and Wicca where the reaction comes boomeranging back to you threefold, but that's another post for another day.
Just went downstairs to make myself a cup of coffee but was quite disappointed to find the instant coffee all glued up together in one big mush in the bottle. Its really annoying when that happens and you can't really keep em powdery for too long once you open it. I've heard that instant coffee is not "real" coffee but its sure as hell easy to make. Its what they serve on planes, although it takes two or more packets of cream and sugar just to make it even slightly drinkable. I just hate it when they serve coffee on long flights. Keeps you up during the whole flight when you might as well have a sound sleep to avoid feeling jet lagged for a whole day after you've had landed. Nothing beats the good ol local Harischandra coffee I tell you. That's the real deal.
Getting back to the restaurant disappointment story, we later on found out that since there was nobody to cook in the kitchen that day, it was the cashier himself that had gone in to the kitchen and whipped up the dishes. All the more reason that one should stick to one's designated profession eh? Anyways, I just wish they had warned us, what with us being loyal customers for as long as we and them can remember and all. Well, one spoilt dish cannot spoil years and years of great dishes which earned them our unflinching loyalty. Its once again like your favorite band not living up to your expectations during one particular performance. You stay loyal nevertheless. Or the little mistakes that a loved one makes or that one little mosquito bite on an otherwise terrific night out. We humans (at least some of us) have incredible self healing powers. Or is it just our faith and sense of loyalty that lends it to us? Either way, you just learn to forgive and forget and move on with your faith like you always do. And that is how it should always be. You move on :)
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Vampire abuse!
Ok, so this is another post about vampires *runs and hides* I know, I know, y'll had heard enough of them already, but I'm just truly infuriated at the amount of abuse that these glorious, mysterious creatures of the night are going through! First these untamed, dark, brooding, silent creatures were almost domesticated by the Twilight series ( diamonds are a vampire's breast friend? Hik hik ) and now there is this scandalous amount of cheesy vampirey stuff oozing all over the place on TV, radio, unsuccessful vampire novels, laundry baskets, underwear drawers, etc. Vampire diaries, True blood, Blood ties (I actually liked the program) the whole blooming Twilight series just to name a few has reduced these beautiful, deathly pale and bloodlessly glorious vampires in to a breed of mere blood sucking mosquitoes. Sigh.......... Tragedy!!
So what exactly is the reason for this sudden passionate (repeated) outburst today? I just happened to watch an episode of The Vampire Diaries, accidently mind you, while I was having my dinner. In my defense, when there is Simi Garawal on India's most wanted (the next worse thing since Koffee with Karan) on one channel and a wedding program on the other (I won't be caught dead watching one of those), what choice has a helpless girl trying to stuff some food down her throat without choking on it has? So anyway, it seemed to me that (according to the program anyway) there is a friendly neighborhood vampire or two around the corner for you to get bitten by and perhaps if you are lucky, to get turned in to a vampire! Or get yourself in to a complicated romantic mortal-immortal, I-wanna-drink-your-blood-but-I'm-too-much-of-a-wimp sort of entanglement, the choice is yours really.
And apparently, they use guns with wooden bullets to kill vampires these days. I was particularly stricken with that element which sort of vandalized the whole vampire culture. I mean, whatever happened to the good ol wooden stick through the heart and you die sprouting blood all over the place procedure? Sigh......So much has changed. Vampires even rip each other apart nowadays. Such a waste of glorious flesh. It was so much more fun when you go hunting for vampire coffins, open em and jam the wooden stakes through the heart and watch em die with this eerie smile spread out over their fanged, bloody yet sexy as hell faces. Much more enticing sort of a picture noh? Oh the crowds have grown so lazy that they always want to take the easy way out these days. Sigh.......
Guess I've always had a V spot for these majestic creatures of the night and I always will. Reading Bram Stoker's Dracula in grade 3 changed my life and my preference in men forever I suppose. Since then, I had been hooked. While all the other girls my age fantasized about clean shaven, neatly dressed, blond haired, blue-eyed knights in shining armor sweeping them off their feet, it had always been the darkly-clad (complete with the cape and all) and dangerous, silent, mysterious and brooding hero ( Grrrr...makes scratching gestures with hands on air) snatching me up on his bat claws and whisking me away to his bat-infested lair of open coffins and human skeletons. (Yes well, I've had my fair share of weird fantasies) Vampires were rare, delicate and unique creatures back then and I would have gladly walked up to a vampire (if I was ever lucky to find one) and offered my neck for his dinner back then. I've always wanted to date a vampire. But now, even having one as a friend would be sooooo yesterday. Sigh..............
One other thing that the Twilight series tried to do (but miserably failed) is to caricaturize the age-old phenomena of werewolves and get the teenyboppers drooling all over them. The long haired, shirtless dudes with tattoos who dripped testosterone as they ran like gazelles through the woods were sexy enough but I guess the idea of a man sprouting hair all over him at the rise of the moon isn't all that appealing. Guess nobody wants to wake up the next morning coughing up fur balls if you know what I mean.
Just logged in to FB to see a fellow colleague of mine freaking out about her thesis which got ME all freaked out. Yeah, we absolutely LOVE doing that on FB, its more fun to freak out collectively than to freak out by yourself any day. Plus, it inspires us lazy bums to move our fat bottoms and get some work done through fear, like right now. So off I go. Good night everyone! Hope you have dreams of REAL vampires, not the lame ass plastic ones that you see walking down the aisles of your local supermarket, stacking tins and cans on shelves these days :)
So what exactly is the reason for this sudden passionate (repeated) outburst today? I just happened to watch an episode of The Vampire Diaries, accidently mind you, while I was having my dinner. In my defense, when there is Simi Garawal on India's most wanted (the next worse thing since Koffee with Karan) on one channel and a wedding program on the other (I won't be caught dead watching one of those), what choice has a helpless girl trying to stuff some food down her throat without choking on it has? So anyway, it seemed to me that (according to the program anyway) there is a friendly neighborhood vampire or two around the corner for you to get bitten by and perhaps if you are lucky, to get turned in to a vampire! Or get yourself in to a complicated romantic mortal-immortal, I-wanna-drink-your-blood-but-I'm-too-much-of-a-wimp sort of entanglement, the choice is yours really.
And apparently, they use guns with wooden bullets to kill vampires these days. I was particularly stricken with that element which sort of vandalized the whole vampire culture. I mean, whatever happened to the good ol wooden stick through the heart and you die sprouting blood all over the place procedure? Sigh......So much has changed. Vampires even rip each other apart nowadays. Such a waste of glorious flesh. It was so much more fun when you go hunting for vampire coffins, open em and jam the wooden stakes through the heart and watch em die with this eerie smile spread out over their fanged, bloody yet sexy as hell faces. Much more enticing sort of a picture noh? Oh the crowds have grown so lazy that they always want to take the easy way out these days. Sigh.......
Guess I've always had a V spot for these majestic creatures of the night and I always will. Reading Bram Stoker's Dracula in grade 3 changed my life and my preference in men forever I suppose. Since then, I had been hooked. While all the other girls my age fantasized about clean shaven, neatly dressed, blond haired, blue-eyed knights in shining armor sweeping them off their feet, it had always been the darkly-clad (complete with the cape and all) and dangerous, silent, mysterious and brooding hero ( Grrrr...makes scratching gestures with hands on air) snatching me up on his bat claws and whisking me away to his bat-infested lair of open coffins and human skeletons. (Yes well, I've had my fair share of weird fantasies) Vampires were rare, delicate and unique creatures back then and I would have gladly walked up to a vampire (if I was ever lucky to find one) and offered my neck for his dinner back then. I've always wanted to date a vampire. But now, even having one as a friend would be sooooo yesterday. Sigh..............
One other thing that the Twilight series tried to do (but miserably failed) is to caricaturize the age-old phenomena of werewolves and get the teenyboppers drooling all over them. The long haired, shirtless dudes with tattoos who dripped testosterone as they ran like gazelles through the woods were sexy enough but I guess the idea of a man sprouting hair all over him at the rise of the moon isn't all that appealing. Guess nobody wants to wake up the next morning coughing up fur balls if you know what I mean.
Just logged in to FB to see a fellow colleague of mine freaking out about her thesis which got ME all freaked out. Yeah, we absolutely LOVE doing that on FB, its more fun to freak out collectively than to freak out by yourself any day. Plus, it inspires us lazy bums to move our fat bottoms and get some work done through fear, like right now. So off I go. Good night everyone! Hope you have dreams of REAL vampires, not the lame ass plastic ones that you see walking down the aisles of your local supermarket, stacking tins and cans on shelves these days :)
Rainy day blues
Rainy day. The kind of day that you could sleep in for ages and not care about anything or anyone. Isn't it a glorious feeling to be able to curl up, foetal position and just let the mind take that much needed hike in the slumberlands, of course, not undisturbed by guilt at the reminiscence of all that work that awaits me, fangs and claws outstretched on the desk. Its just that on days like this, its easier to just smirk and wave away all those voices that nag you incessantly about work and if necessary, to deliver a much deserved punch on the face, break a tooth or two if they insist on not fastening their gaping traps.
Rainy day and solitude. Two beautiful things that a girl can never tire of.
Except right now, my usual solitary happy hour with my huge ass mug of warm tea in front of the TV just as I get up in the morning is being shamelessly usurped these days. And the culprit is Mother Dearest. Yes, to my woe and misery, she is on leave these days and she just finds it very convenient for her to flop down on a camel stool beside me and jabber the morning away just when I had comfortably snuggled up on the couch with my morning tea, my lazy pyjama-clad self and my daily dose of Merlin repeat telecast of yesterday. Its just that I do not appreciate being bugged early (ok, so not so early) in the morning. This time of the day is important to me because that's when my brain cells are nudged awake, one by tiny one. My tea, my Merlin are mine and mine alone. I do not want to share them. With ANYONE!! I desperately need those two things in order to brace myself before going out to face this big, bad, ugly world! Too dramatic of a statement? Yes, I thought so too.
By the way, Prince Arthur has the cutest of all cutest smiles don't you think? He has the most adoooorable disfigured set of teeth that I have ever seen! *swoon* Yes, yes I know, I have a thing for imperfect things. Sigh....I'm just made that way. Perfection bores me. Really.
Been feeling rather disconnected lately. Its like the whole world is shrinking away from me. Everything and everyone is so distant, so far away that sometimes, nothing seems real. Ever felt like you stretch out your hand in search of some warmth only to be brushed by this icy cold gust of wind? Ever felt that there is no body to take you by the hand when you are lost in the middle of a snow storm, offer you their coat to keep you safe and warm, hustle you off to a warm and glowing house where you will be offered a homemade steaming hot, comforting broth? That's exactly how the feeling has been lately. I've been craving for that warm coat, warm hand and the steaming broth quite badly. Yes, yes, even I, the notorious antisocial loner need some warmth and sunshine once in a while. But at the outset, everything's just fine. Guess its just a state of mind. While everything shrinks and withdraws from my grasp these days, I just can't wait to get back in to the real world. I just can't wait to finish this God-awful degree and inject some "life" in to my life, so to speak. Right now, everything is stagnant and I'm dream-walking through life. Damn this rotten degree! It has done its best to ladle out quite generous servings of depression to us poor folk over the years.
Not in the mood to be a smart ass today. I'm just going to give in to the general mood and sink in to depression now. Yet, there is something so comforting and soothing in the sound of the raindrops falling. Think I'l just sulk away to that rhythm *sob sob*
Life really feels like it doesn't have ANY bloody meaning sometimes. Sometimes you just can't find any reason to live. Other than to fulfill other people's expectations of course. But why the dickens should we even bother? Just like that very wise, very loud Bon Jovi once screamed out, ITS MY bloody LIIIIIIIFE!!!!!!!
Oh....Mother Dearest is making fish buns today. Guess she contracted the cooking virus from me. Home made fish buns! I knowwwwwwwwwwww!! At last, SOMETHING to look forward to! Yeeeyy!! :D
Rainy day and solitude. Two beautiful things that a girl can never tire of.
Except right now, my usual solitary happy hour with my huge ass mug of warm tea in front of the TV just as I get up in the morning is being shamelessly usurped these days. And the culprit is Mother Dearest. Yes, to my woe and misery, she is on leave these days and she just finds it very convenient for her to flop down on a camel stool beside me and jabber the morning away just when I had comfortably snuggled up on the couch with my morning tea, my lazy pyjama-clad self and my daily dose of Merlin repeat telecast of yesterday. Its just that I do not appreciate being bugged early (ok, so not so early) in the morning. This time of the day is important to me because that's when my brain cells are nudged awake, one by tiny one. My tea, my Merlin are mine and mine alone. I do not want to share them. With ANYONE!! I desperately need those two things in order to brace myself before going out to face this big, bad, ugly world! Too dramatic of a statement? Yes, I thought so too.
By the way, Prince Arthur has the cutest of all cutest smiles don't you think? He has the most adoooorable disfigured set of teeth that I have ever seen! *swoon* Yes, yes I know, I have a thing for imperfect things. Sigh....I'm just made that way. Perfection bores me. Really.
Been feeling rather disconnected lately. Its like the whole world is shrinking away from me. Everything and everyone is so distant, so far away that sometimes, nothing seems real. Ever felt like you stretch out your hand in search of some warmth only to be brushed by this icy cold gust of wind? Ever felt that there is no body to take you by the hand when you are lost in the middle of a snow storm, offer you their coat to keep you safe and warm, hustle you off to a warm and glowing house where you will be offered a homemade steaming hot, comforting broth? That's exactly how the feeling has been lately. I've been craving for that warm coat, warm hand and the steaming broth quite badly. Yes, yes, even I, the notorious antisocial loner need some warmth and sunshine once in a while. But at the outset, everything's just fine. Guess its just a state of mind. While everything shrinks and withdraws from my grasp these days, I just can't wait to get back in to the real world. I just can't wait to finish this God-awful degree and inject some "life" in to my life, so to speak. Right now, everything is stagnant and I'm dream-walking through life. Damn this rotten degree! It has done its best to ladle out quite generous servings of depression to us poor folk over the years.
Not in the mood to be a smart ass today. I'm just going to give in to the general mood and sink in to depression now. Yet, there is something so comforting and soothing in the sound of the raindrops falling. Think I'l just sulk away to that rhythm *sob sob*
Life really feels like it doesn't have ANY bloody meaning sometimes. Sometimes you just can't find any reason to live. Other than to fulfill other people's expectations of course. But why the dickens should we even bother? Just like that very wise, very loud Bon Jovi once screamed out, ITS MY bloody LIIIIIIIFE!!!!!!!
Oh....Mother Dearest is making fish buns today. Guess she contracted the cooking virus from me. Home made fish buns! I knowwwwwwwwwwww!! At last, SOMETHING to look forward to! Yeeeyy!! :D
Monday, August 22, 2011
In search of happiness and other ramblings
What is happiness? The feeling that you get when all your needs and wants fulfilled is it? For most of us yes, that is pretty much what happiness means. But over the course of time, it has occurred to me that the above mentioned kind of happiness is only just short lived. The real secret of being happy is finding inner peace, in being the best that one can be, that warm glow that you get in making your life useful to someone else. But inner peace, is it really all that durable in a life that is constantly in the process of letting you down so horribly? One will never know.
My life is by no means perfect. It just has its perfect moments that makes me realize that life is indeed worth living a thousand times and more. There are moments too that I question the value of life, if all this pain, the suffering, the effort that we take just to barely survive is worth it. And each time I think things over and come to a conclusion whether life is indeed worth living or not, it just turns around and proves me wrong, every bloody time.
And I ask myself, when will I ever get a proper answer to my question? Every time a disappointment occurs and I am resolved to let things go and let life follow its course, something good happens and make me want to try harder at it, be the best that I can be, knowing that I am accepted, understood and loved. And when I'm convinced that life is one big carnival and I'm ready to really try my best, it turns around and proves to me that nothing is really worth it and all that it will ever do is hurt me anyway, slowly leading me down towards my emotional and physical doom. When does this god-damned vicious circle end? Will we ever get the answers that we seek? Is there no knowing where this bloody vacillation meter of misery and joy will stop at? Life would be a lot easier if we knew whether our lives are going to be happy or miserable before hand.
I know I do not have grouching rights to life, I know that worse things happen to people and all some people encounter in their lives are hardships and nothing more. But I suppose in a way that is better. Because you get used to all the shit that you keep trodding on and you learn to toughen up. You learn to never let your guards down and you learn never to let anyone or anything in under your skin because you know for certain that they will only crush you to a pulp in the end. You never get hurt or disappointed because there are no nasty surprises waiting for you in the end because you are prepared for the worse anyway. And if you are really convinced that life doesn't deserve the likes of you to grace its puny existence, there's always the choice of leaving it, although some consider it a cowardly act.
As macabre and depressing as it sounds, I've always thought of death as an almost euphoric occurrence. It has always been for me the ultimate means of liberating oneself, the ultimate synonym for freedom and new beginnings and I've often wondered how it would feel like to feel nothing, to know nothing and to fade away in to nothingness. Must be really something to experience after a whole life time of feeling way too much than you ever wanted or intended to, of suffering as much mentally and physically, a life time of expectations and disappointments, trying to please others and suffering through a life time of hate and misunderstanding at the slightest mistake. I've never been afraid of death. Its a wonderful ending to a life time of pain, shocks and starters, excitement, those moments of relief that you call as 'happiness' when suffering ceases to be. Happiness is when you get all excited about an illusion that you trick yourself in to forgetting the suffering that still exists in the world. It ends when this beautiful illusion ceases to be and the truth hits you with full force in your face.
Whereas settling in to happiness and being vulnerable does not work at all if it all ends in misery. You let your guards down, shed all your priced turtle shells and just lie there as if telling the world to come prick pins in your exposed body, to make you bleed and suffer, having no cover nor any sort of layer to protect you. Being overtly sensitive is two fold, I did not ask for it, it was given to me, by force. While it is an incredible blessing, it is also an inescapable curse. But in order to gain something you have to lose something I've heard. But I never imagined that I would have to barter my soul for a sensitivity that can either make or break me in the end.
But one should not be afraid to dream. Because there is living proof that they do come true if you dream hard enough. I just wish that one could dream of complete and utter happiness that could never be tarnished by a mortal or immortal hand, so that it could come true, if not in this life, perhaps in another life. Dreaming gives us that happy feeling that we so crave for even if it is just for a little while. But really, is it really worthwhile to waste our precious dreams over this illusion of a happiness that takes flight at the slightest chance it gets? Is it really worth our time, our precious emotions and feelings if something is just waiting for a chance, an excuse, a bout of self-pity perhaps to make us feel bad, flee and seek someone else's comfort and company? Happiness is fickle. Yet dreams are faithful. Happiness promises you the world, the moon, the stars and the entire universe but you know deep down, and it has been proven to you so many times too, that all those situations, conditions and promises are subject to change. Whereas dreams, you know they are not real. They promise you nothing, is honest and tells you that they are changeable and yet, it turns out, they give you more than you ever expected out of them. And dreams keeps you happy while you are dreaming. But, MY dreams have this wonderful way of coming true for me somehow. That is why I consider myself blessed. And I am hoping that my luck will last, not abandon me in the lurch like that fickle happiness takes pleasure in doing so most of the time. Yet, I am blessed. And I take pleasure in that. Not most people are as lucky as I am. And I am grateful, for everything in my life :)
My life is by no means perfect. It just has its perfect moments that makes me realize that life is indeed worth living a thousand times and more. There are moments too that I question the value of life, if all this pain, the suffering, the effort that we take just to barely survive is worth it. And each time I think things over and come to a conclusion whether life is indeed worth living or not, it just turns around and proves me wrong, every bloody time.
And I ask myself, when will I ever get a proper answer to my question? Every time a disappointment occurs and I am resolved to let things go and let life follow its course, something good happens and make me want to try harder at it, be the best that I can be, knowing that I am accepted, understood and loved. And when I'm convinced that life is one big carnival and I'm ready to really try my best, it turns around and proves to me that nothing is really worth it and all that it will ever do is hurt me anyway, slowly leading me down towards my emotional and physical doom. When does this god-damned vicious circle end? Will we ever get the answers that we seek? Is there no knowing where this bloody vacillation meter of misery and joy will stop at? Life would be a lot easier if we knew whether our lives are going to be happy or miserable before hand.
I know I do not have grouching rights to life, I know that worse things happen to people and all some people encounter in their lives are hardships and nothing more. But I suppose in a way that is better. Because you get used to all the shit that you keep trodding on and you learn to toughen up. You learn to never let your guards down and you learn never to let anyone or anything in under your skin because you know for certain that they will only crush you to a pulp in the end. You never get hurt or disappointed because there are no nasty surprises waiting for you in the end because you are prepared for the worse anyway. And if you are really convinced that life doesn't deserve the likes of you to grace its puny existence, there's always the choice of leaving it, although some consider it a cowardly act.
As macabre and depressing as it sounds, I've always thought of death as an almost euphoric occurrence. It has always been for me the ultimate means of liberating oneself, the ultimate synonym for freedom and new beginnings and I've often wondered how it would feel like to feel nothing, to know nothing and to fade away in to nothingness. Must be really something to experience after a whole life time of feeling way too much than you ever wanted or intended to, of suffering as much mentally and physically, a life time of expectations and disappointments, trying to please others and suffering through a life time of hate and misunderstanding at the slightest mistake. I've never been afraid of death. Its a wonderful ending to a life time of pain, shocks and starters, excitement, those moments of relief that you call as 'happiness' when suffering ceases to be. Happiness is when you get all excited about an illusion that you trick yourself in to forgetting the suffering that still exists in the world. It ends when this beautiful illusion ceases to be and the truth hits you with full force in your face.
Whereas settling in to happiness and being vulnerable does not work at all if it all ends in misery. You let your guards down, shed all your priced turtle shells and just lie there as if telling the world to come prick pins in your exposed body, to make you bleed and suffer, having no cover nor any sort of layer to protect you. Being overtly sensitive is two fold, I did not ask for it, it was given to me, by force. While it is an incredible blessing, it is also an inescapable curse. But in order to gain something you have to lose something I've heard. But I never imagined that I would have to barter my soul for a sensitivity that can either make or break me in the end.
But one should not be afraid to dream. Because there is living proof that they do come true if you dream hard enough. I just wish that one could dream of complete and utter happiness that could never be tarnished by a mortal or immortal hand, so that it could come true, if not in this life, perhaps in another life. Dreaming gives us that happy feeling that we so crave for even if it is just for a little while. But really, is it really worthwhile to waste our precious dreams over this illusion of a happiness that takes flight at the slightest chance it gets? Is it really worth our time, our precious emotions and feelings if something is just waiting for a chance, an excuse, a bout of self-pity perhaps to make us feel bad, flee and seek someone else's comfort and company? Happiness is fickle. Yet dreams are faithful. Happiness promises you the world, the moon, the stars and the entire universe but you know deep down, and it has been proven to you so many times too, that all those situations, conditions and promises are subject to change. Whereas dreams, you know they are not real. They promise you nothing, is honest and tells you that they are changeable and yet, it turns out, they give you more than you ever expected out of them. And dreams keeps you happy while you are dreaming. But, MY dreams have this wonderful way of coming true for me somehow. That is why I consider myself blessed. And I am hoping that my luck will last, not abandon me in the lurch like that fickle happiness takes pleasure in doing so most of the time. Yet, I am blessed. And I take pleasure in that. Not most people are as lucky as I am. And I am grateful, for everything in my life :)
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
My cooking obsession
Yes, yes, I know. Taking one look at me, placing me anywhere near a kitchen would seem too much of a scandal but to be honest, cooking is actually one of my passions which has long since been lying dormant, surfacing only once in a while to shock, rock and stoke the world. Even The Darling starred at me open mouthed initially when he first heard of my kitchen adventures, but now he's rather addicted to the dishes that come out from there I'm afraid.
Cooking is an art in itself. To know as if by instinct what tastes come together on the palate, to put together several different ingredients, put it through the complicated process of chopping, baking, roasting, boiling and see what comes out as a result is an immensely satisfying exercise. I suppose to take that first bite off your own dish and to feel all the flavors, how all the juices and tastes come together on the palate is actually like an artist stepping back from the canvas to enjoy his work. Seeing your loved ones enjoying the meal you prepared for them is even more gratifying. It gives the same feeling like somebody understanding your art piece and is so enthralled by it that he ended up eating it all!
I suppose I get my passion for food from my mother. I remember watching fascinated as she measured out flour and sugar for cakes, pastries and patties and knead them with her hands, beat egg whites until they are light and fluffy, watching a cake rise to the occasion till its golden brown. We've always had Tamil domestic aids when I was little and I remember waking up from my afternoon nap to the the smell of roasting spices, frying of wadei, dosai and idly that float out of the kitchen quarters during those lazy, drawling hours. The spices have always fascinated me. Cinnamon, cardamom, turmeric, chilly, coriander, cumin, saffron, etc always struck me as delightfully exotic. I loved cooking with those things, to see what effect they would have on raw material ready to be cooked. It truly is a delight to watch an element transforming in to something else in your own hands. I suppose a sculptor feels the same way, feeling a lump of clay taking shape, form and feature at the fluttering of his fingertips.
The first dish I cooked was a dhal rice, in one of these little clay pots that my mother used to bring me from the church's fiest and I was barely 5 years old back then. Getting the raw material was difficult as the oh-so-frugal Mother Dearest and the kitchen aids were afraid that I will waste the precious stuff, but once I managed to get them, I created something so delightful that this particular dhal rice is still in demand in the household. Of course I had help with the spices and all or else I would have scarred the dish for life but for my age, that was a remarkable achievement. I remember Mother Dearest boasting about my culinary achievement for many years afterwards to her eager eared friends whose daughters haven't seen the likeness of a kitchen in a while.
I had grown up with the aroma of cooking, baking, stewing resonating through the house which perhaps ignited my passion for cuisine. Baking brings me joy, cooking relaxes me. You cannot deny that the fact that the smell of home baked cookies that wafts out through the house makes one feel so warm and cosy and make you want to sink in an arm chair and lazily doze off. Frying smells on the other hand, gives out that festive feeling that makes you want to jump about with joy. It makes you feel so alive. Which is why I resort to cooking whenever I feel too stressed out or sad. Kitchen is indeed my happy place at such times. Now, now, don't you go all chauvinistic, smirk and say that a woman's place is in the kitchen now. You do know that it is also where all the knives are, right? :)
There are several ways of cooking, but I've always personally prefered it when the ingredients all come together in this wild, vulgar romance that explodes in your mouth, makes you giddy headed and leave you salivating for more of that rustic, turbulent pleasure. The ingredients have to make love to each other. And you are just the director of this whole drama that goes on within the bowl and you have GOT to know the correct ingredients that will not only look good together, but also handle each other gently yet passionately, compliment each other and will bring out the best in each other in the process. You have to make them merge together, make them wrestle each other, pound each other, toss and turn in to perfection and just ooze out spasm after spasm of sinfully vibrant flavor together in and orgasmic explosion that will leave your head spinning (Did I just make that sound like directing a porn movie?) On a more lighter note, they can also be brought together like musical notes, softly complimenting each other so that the end product would be a delightful orchestra, finishing off with that grand flourish, an elegant bow and a standing ovation.
I like experimenting with ingredients. The prospect of putting together very unlikely elements and making them work somehow is unbelievably exciting for me. And I'm pretty happy to say that everything that I've tried so far, even the most seemingly outrageous combinations that I've dared to try, have served me well up to this point in life ( Did I tell you about the banana and papaya crumble that just recently became a hit? And the choco-cheese samosas? Yeah, I'm crazy like that ) Tried and tested recipes bore me. Unless when its better to be on the safe side when I'm in a hurry to feed a dinner party or two that is. Besides, I'm a touch and feel sort of a girl, like all other things in my life, I cook with my instinct. I never measure out my ingredients and for the life of me, I have never used a measuring scale to sort through a recipe. I just go by my gut and I'm never afraid to get my hands dirty. Food feels more personal that way, its closer to the heart. Although I'd advise first timers not to do it, because its highly likely that you'd end up turning out a stone tablet (that you can use for your own tombstone afterwards) when originally you intended to make a sponge cake for your birthday. Precision bores me. I like inventions, I love the feeling that the perfection or not-so-perfection of the product gives in the end. Whatever happened, you created it, its your baby. The feeling that you get by holding your creation on your palm, looking upon it like the God Almighty himself after he has created the earth: Priceless.
If there is one thing I hate about cooking, that's cleaning up. The sinking feeling in your stomach you get when you see the pile of dishes to be washed in the sink, I'd rather throw them all out instead of washing and placing them in the appropriate cupboards. If somebody washes up after me, I'd be more than happy to cut, chop and mix my way in the kitchen all day every day. At one point in my life, I seriously considered becoming a chef. But at different points in my life I've also wanted to join the circus, become a burlesque dancer, train to be a spy, become a serial killer, play violin for an orchestra among many other things too. So I suppose I should just forget my cheffy dream for now. It is still a choice after all :)
Cooking is an art in itself. To know as if by instinct what tastes come together on the palate, to put together several different ingredients, put it through the complicated process of chopping, baking, roasting, boiling and see what comes out as a result is an immensely satisfying exercise. I suppose to take that first bite off your own dish and to feel all the flavors, how all the juices and tastes come together on the palate is actually like an artist stepping back from the canvas to enjoy his work. Seeing your loved ones enjoying the meal you prepared for them is even more gratifying. It gives the same feeling like somebody understanding your art piece and is so enthralled by it that he ended up eating it all!
I suppose I get my passion for food from my mother. I remember watching fascinated as she measured out flour and sugar for cakes, pastries and patties and knead them with her hands, beat egg whites until they are light and fluffy, watching a cake rise to the occasion till its golden brown. We've always had Tamil domestic aids when I was little and I remember waking up from my afternoon nap to the the smell of roasting spices, frying of wadei, dosai and idly that float out of the kitchen quarters during those lazy, drawling hours. The spices have always fascinated me. Cinnamon, cardamom, turmeric, chilly, coriander, cumin, saffron, etc always struck me as delightfully exotic. I loved cooking with those things, to see what effect they would have on raw material ready to be cooked. It truly is a delight to watch an element transforming in to something else in your own hands. I suppose a sculptor feels the same way, feeling a lump of clay taking shape, form and feature at the fluttering of his fingertips.
The first dish I cooked was a dhal rice, in one of these little clay pots that my mother used to bring me from the church's fiest and I was barely 5 years old back then. Getting the raw material was difficult as the oh-so-frugal Mother Dearest and the kitchen aids were afraid that I will waste the precious stuff, but once I managed to get them, I created something so delightful that this particular dhal rice is still in demand in the household. Of course I had help with the spices and all or else I would have scarred the dish for life but for my age, that was a remarkable achievement. I remember Mother Dearest boasting about my culinary achievement for many years afterwards to her eager eared friends whose daughters haven't seen the likeness of a kitchen in a while.
I had grown up with the aroma of cooking, baking, stewing resonating through the house which perhaps ignited my passion for cuisine. Baking brings me joy, cooking relaxes me. You cannot deny that the fact that the smell of home baked cookies that wafts out through the house makes one feel so warm and cosy and make you want to sink in an arm chair and lazily doze off. Frying smells on the other hand, gives out that festive feeling that makes you want to jump about with joy. It makes you feel so alive. Which is why I resort to cooking whenever I feel too stressed out or sad. Kitchen is indeed my happy place at such times. Now, now, don't you go all chauvinistic, smirk and say that a woman's place is in the kitchen now. You do know that it is also where all the knives are, right? :)
There are several ways of cooking, but I've always personally prefered it when the ingredients all come together in this wild, vulgar romance that explodes in your mouth, makes you giddy headed and leave you salivating for more of that rustic, turbulent pleasure. The ingredients have to make love to each other. And you are just the director of this whole drama that goes on within the bowl and you have GOT to know the correct ingredients that will not only look good together, but also handle each other gently yet passionately, compliment each other and will bring out the best in each other in the process. You have to make them merge together, make them wrestle each other, pound each other, toss and turn in to perfection and just ooze out spasm after spasm of sinfully vibrant flavor together in and orgasmic explosion that will leave your head spinning (Did I just make that sound like directing a porn movie?) On a more lighter note, they can also be brought together like musical notes, softly complimenting each other so that the end product would be a delightful orchestra, finishing off with that grand flourish, an elegant bow and a standing ovation.
I like experimenting with ingredients. The prospect of putting together very unlikely elements and making them work somehow is unbelievably exciting for me. And I'm pretty happy to say that everything that I've tried so far, even the most seemingly outrageous combinations that I've dared to try, have served me well up to this point in life ( Did I tell you about the banana and papaya crumble that just recently became a hit? And the choco-cheese samosas? Yeah, I'm crazy like that ) Tried and tested recipes bore me. Unless when its better to be on the safe side when I'm in a hurry to feed a dinner party or two that is. Besides, I'm a touch and feel sort of a girl, like all other things in my life, I cook with my instinct. I never measure out my ingredients and for the life of me, I have never used a measuring scale to sort through a recipe. I just go by my gut and I'm never afraid to get my hands dirty. Food feels more personal that way, its closer to the heart. Although I'd advise first timers not to do it, because its highly likely that you'd end up turning out a stone tablet (that you can use for your own tombstone afterwards) when originally you intended to make a sponge cake for your birthday. Precision bores me. I like inventions, I love the feeling that the perfection or not-so-perfection of the product gives in the end. Whatever happened, you created it, its your baby. The feeling that you get by holding your creation on your palm, looking upon it like the God Almighty himself after he has created the earth: Priceless.
If there is one thing I hate about cooking, that's cleaning up. The sinking feeling in your stomach you get when you see the pile of dishes to be washed in the sink, I'd rather throw them all out instead of washing and placing them in the appropriate cupboards. If somebody washes up after me, I'd be more than happy to cut, chop and mix my way in the kitchen all day every day. At one point in my life, I seriously considered becoming a chef. But at different points in my life I've also wanted to join the circus, become a burlesque dancer, train to be a spy, become a serial killer, play violin for an orchestra among many other things too. So I suppose I should just forget my cheffy dream for now. It is still a choice after all :)
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
For love, for life, for happiness :)
I normally don't share my poetry on this blog but I suppose I can make a little exception for this one. I believe that I am indeed one of the lucky ones. To be in love, to be loved back the same way, its almost unreal. This is my tribute to life, my stars and my love that I'm so incredibly grateful for.
I sit here
Your arms of yesterday, so warm, so soft, so comforting still
Your arms of yesterday, so warm, so soft, so comforting still
Around me, in my mind. I smiled
Your gaze of yesterday still adorns my eyes
Love overflowed from your eyes,your eyes
Your gaze of yesterday still adorns my eyes
Love overflowed from your eyes,your eyes
Moist with love,I almost cried
Your silent smile
Spoke volumes,ten thousand million words
That u nor I could ever manage to say
In this life time.
I drowned
In ur love,
Right then,right thereI was already home
You said you couldn't bear to let go
Spoke volumes,ten thousand million words
That u nor I could ever manage to say
In this life time.
I drowned
In ur love,
Right then,right thereI was already home
You said you couldn't bear to let go
Even for a second and held me tighter
Against your chest,your heart
Pulsating for me,all
For me.Your eyes
Smiled and whispered
A life time of love.My heart sang
Against your chest,your heart
Pulsating for me,all
For me.Your eyes
Smiled and whispered
A life time of love.My heart sang
I could have died then and there.
Heaven within my arms reach
You whispered,"you are mine"
Your voice hoarse with emotion.I closed my eyes
Heaven within my arms reach
You whispered,"you are mine"
Your voice hoarse with emotion.I closed my eyes
You turned my face towards yours,there were tears in your eyes
"I love you so much" you said"you-my woman,my child,my life"
"Thank you so much" I asked why
"For this love,for this feeling" you said and smiled
Squeezed and tickled,your embrace of yesterday
still fresh,still lucid
Still warm on my skin,your kisses
Still wet, love sprouts
Bubbles and tingles
"I love you so much" you said"you-my woman,my child,my life"
"Thank you so much" I asked why
"For this love,for this feeling" you said and smiled
Squeezed and tickled,your embrace of yesterday
still fresh,still lucid
Still warm on my skin,your kisses
Still wet, love sprouts
Bubbles and tingles
I am all smiles. I somehow
Could not stop smiling
You are mine.
Life is beautiful if you only let it be. That being said, romantic love is not the only elixir that determines your happiness, self-love, love for your kith and kin, simply the love for life being some of the many things that can make one glow. These are not the words of a love-struck hopelessly-romantic. These are the words of a disillusioned girl who once upon a time DECIDED to be happy :)
Clouds and thoughts
Just realized that its been a while since I last looked up at the sky. Was walking home yesterday evening and remembered how so very beautiful the evening sky looks. I remembered how much I used to love these evening walks. When I was a fresher at the university, coming home, escaping from those filthy claws of the inferiority complex-ridden seniors, the harsh ragging, the insults, the harassment, and the vulgar, cruel treatment, its almost always so late in the evening and they still kept us, sneering, insulting, wringing our young innocent minds between their wicked iron holds. Every time it got a little too hard to bear, I would look up at the skies and let my mind wander among the red, blue, pink clouds that floated above. It comforted and made me forget of the evil that I was confronting. The harsh words that pricked my ears seemed so far away then.
Walking home yesterday evening, the clouds just stood there frozen, flaunting their soft rosy, tangy hues and all I wanted was to be there up there in the sky, touching their oozing softness, the creaminess of their texture. I've always imagined clouds to feel like whipped cream. Like whipped cream is good with almost everything, clouds too are the perfect balsam for anything on this earth. Be it illness, stress, heartache, grief or just plain boredom, looking up at these majestic creatures of the sky (I like to think that they are alive) and letting the mind soar, rise up and fly away among the cotton candy softness is just an exhilarating experience.
Its so easy to imagine yourself taking off and flying amognst these clouds. They look so near, its as if if you stretch your hand enough, you could almost touch them. It looks like a whole different world up there, the clouds looking like plush, cushiony sofas on which one could recline and sleep and sleep forever. Greeks believed that if you were good enough, the Gods took you up and placed you amongst the stars when you died. I hope that someday, I too would be placed among the stars. Not that I wanted fame, glory and the whole lot, its just for the pure joy of being able to walk on the clouds.
Its just that happiness and love are like butterflies. The more you chase it, the further they fly away. If only you sit down and be complacent with your life, what you have, they will come to you, perch on your arm, sing seraphic melodies and complicate your life. For me, it was like that. Love and happiness happened to me at a point in my life where I was completely satisfied with my life, lived for the moment and I had stopped believing in that elusive love that people are often on the hunt for. I laughed at it, made fun and smiled sarcastically as men and women supposed to be "In love" flirted and ogled other men and women with desire.
That's the thing about love and happiness I suppose. Once you have it, you are so afraid that you are going to lose it that you tend to protect them with all you've got, sometimes even forgetting yourself, the yourself that you are fighting to protect. You complicate your own life, trying to save things that have no desire of being saved. You lose sight of your own happiness, worrying about its sustainability rather than enjoying it while you still can and in the process, you forget who YOU really are and start transforming in to something you are not. What happens is we forget to live in the moment when we are so worried about what's going to happen tomorrow. Lesson learnt- Do not try to protect what does not want to be protected. It will only make things more miserable. If it wants to go, let it, you can't hold back things that wants to flee and expect to be happy. Happiness and love are at its best when its free. In the meantime, you can only lay back and be yourself, be the best you can and enjoy the sunshine :)
According to some people, I'm still way too innocent. I don't drink, I don't smoke, never tried an intoxicating drug in my entire life. Never cheated at a test, on a lover, never taken revenge and I don't want to either. I forgive and forget quickly ( too quickly at times) put others' needs before mine (which goes unappreciated most of the time) and I still believe that I do not want anything unless I get it the just and fair way. Too naive and innocent for this world? Yes, I used to be called like that.
The point is, I like being me. I like being the naive type that usually gets made fun of amongst a more mature society. I like being able to look somebody in the eye and be taken seriously as to when I say no, I mean no, I stick to my principles, I honor my values. A person without their values might as well be a savage, a disgrace to the very parents that brought them up. A sort of a puritanical attitude if you must, but I never fit in to that group either. I believe myself to be an outcast. Neither here nor there.
That being said, there are no clouds in the sky at this time of the day. The skies are blue and vast and its empty, so very empty. The sun is too harsh on us romantic beings :(
Walking home yesterday evening, the clouds just stood there frozen, flaunting their soft rosy, tangy hues and all I wanted was to be there up there in the sky, touching their oozing softness, the creaminess of their texture. I've always imagined clouds to feel like whipped cream. Like whipped cream is good with almost everything, clouds too are the perfect balsam for anything on this earth. Be it illness, stress, heartache, grief or just plain boredom, looking up at these majestic creatures of the sky (I like to think that they are alive) and letting the mind soar, rise up and fly away among the cotton candy softness is just an exhilarating experience.
Its so easy to imagine yourself taking off and flying amognst these clouds. They look so near, its as if if you stretch your hand enough, you could almost touch them. It looks like a whole different world up there, the clouds looking like plush, cushiony sofas on which one could recline and sleep and sleep forever. Greeks believed that if you were good enough, the Gods took you up and placed you amongst the stars when you died. I hope that someday, I too would be placed among the stars. Not that I wanted fame, glory and the whole lot, its just for the pure joy of being able to walk on the clouds.
Its just that happiness and love are like butterflies. The more you chase it, the further they fly away. If only you sit down and be complacent with your life, what you have, they will come to you, perch on your arm, sing seraphic melodies and complicate your life. For me, it was like that. Love and happiness happened to me at a point in my life where I was completely satisfied with my life, lived for the moment and I had stopped believing in that elusive love that people are often on the hunt for. I laughed at it, made fun and smiled sarcastically as men and women supposed to be "In love" flirted and ogled other men and women with desire.
That's the thing about love and happiness I suppose. Once you have it, you are so afraid that you are going to lose it that you tend to protect them with all you've got, sometimes even forgetting yourself, the yourself that you are fighting to protect. You complicate your own life, trying to save things that have no desire of being saved. You lose sight of your own happiness, worrying about its sustainability rather than enjoying it while you still can and in the process, you forget who YOU really are and start transforming in to something you are not. What happens is we forget to live in the moment when we are so worried about what's going to happen tomorrow. Lesson learnt- Do not try to protect what does not want to be protected. It will only make things more miserable. If it wants to go, let it, you can't hold back things that wants to flee and expect to be happy. Happiness and love are at its best when its free. In the meantime, you can only lay back and be yourself, be the best you can and enjoy the sunshine :)
According to some people, I'm still way too innocent. I don't drink, I don't smoke, never tried an intoxicating drug in my entire life. Never cheated at a test, on a lover, never taken revenge and I don't want to either. I forgive and forget quickly ( too quickly at times) put others' needs before mine (which goes unappreciated most of the time) and I still believe that I do not want anything unless I get it the just and fair way. Too naive and innocent for this world? Yes, I used to be called like that.
The point is, I like being me. I like being the naive type that usually gets made fun of amongst a more mature society. I like being able to look somebody in the eye and be taken seriously as to when I say no, I mean no, I stick to my principles, I honor my values. A person without their values might as well be a savage, a disgrace to the very parents that brought them up. A sort of a puritanical attitude if you must, but I never fit in to that group either. I believe myself to be an outcast. Neither here nor there.
That being said, there are no clouds in the sky at this time of the day. The skies are blue and vast and its empty, so very empty. The sun is too harsh on us romantic beings :(
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Frustration, frustration........and gigs! :D
Right now, even sitting down, opening up a book and burying my nose in it makes me want to scream. In fact, I'd rather do ANYTHING other than just sit here trying to remember which amendment to the Constitution took away people's right of picking their noses, picking other people's noses, scratching their butts, etc. Sigh...... I need a way to let out the frustration and what better way to let it all out other than a gig! And preferably metal at that. Sigh........
Gigs. I usually associate them with cigarette smoke, flying, whipping hair, booming, screeching voices, Darling's arms wrapped tightly around my waist and reverberating loudspeakers of awesome, awesome music. Right now, going to one, losing myself in the midst of the haze of cigarette smoke and the gamuts of those divinely inspired extra-scrumptioulicious music and the tempestuous sea of bobbing heads and hurtling bodies seems so very sinfully sacrosanct. And that childlike open-mouthed, sparkling eyes expression on The Darling's face at the opening chords of a mind-blowing guitar solo (which I had tried to capture on camera so many times but miserably failed) just makes my day :D Coming home in the middle of the night, cruising through the darkness with your significant other, smooching at each traffic light and shocking the pedestrians ( well, can't help it folks:P) , hair smelling strongly of cigarette smoke that just does not go away until you wash your hair the next day, fearing what your parent's reactions might be if they dare to sniff you out is another adrenaline pumping experience. Waking up the next morning with a huge-ass grin on your face, half-deaf with last night's music still ringing through your head, hair still smelling of cigarette smoke is well, nothing compares. Although I do wonder, if it is possible for someone like yours truly ( who is a non-smoker and a non-drinker btw) to get lung cancer just by inhaling these monstrous fumes that are trapped in an enclosed space with no chance of a waft of fresh air to get in. As much as I hate the smoke, I do have to admit that they give that much needed dream-like misty atmosphere that a gig, for me, is all about.
Why gigs? Because its the only place that gives you that head-pounding, jaw-shattering musical experience that you so crave for at certain points in your life. When the sugary-sweet, soft and mushy, all lovey-dovey sort of music just makes you want to gag, throw up fifteen times and smash the source of the sickly-sweet with your bare fists, metal is the ultimate lullaby that appeases the monster within. I've always thought of heavy metal as the one type of music that lets the individual voice out their rage, the anger, the frustration, the raw passion that resides deep within. Mother Dearest always says that we are so angry because we are constantly listening to "loud, angry, violent type of music" But isn't it so that we are listening to "loud, angry, violent sort of music" BECAUSE we are feeling angry and rebellious inside?
That of course is my personal opinion based on my personal experience as a music lover of all genres. One is free to oppose of course. My choice of music depends on the mood :)
Metal emerged as a result of the suffering of the people, the rebel against the crushing weight of the suffocating monarchy, the church, the governments. Metal emerged as a result of the rebellious souls who dared raise their voices above the drone of the system-worshiping parrots. And hence the perpetual presence of the devil and anarchy in their lyrics and the divine loudness of the music. Which we adore of course.
Although metal music became a trend and a rather popular subculture in later years, its uncanny that still, the people who flock around it ( I mean the ones who genuinely admire the music, not the wanna-be-rock stars who polish boots, wash and iron the cloths of band members with the hope of becoming a rock star one day cz that will make them look "cool") are people who are sensitive to what goes on around them. They are sensitive to the suffering around them and the suffocation that's causing it and subconsciously, they are attracted to the seemingly violent lyrics, the music which soothes and appeases. No wonder. Its the kind of music that speaks to your depths. No sugar coating here, no shallow words.
Which is why I prefer a gig to let off steam after a nerve-wracking exam any season. The feeling of collective raw passion, people grabbing hold of complete strangers and head banging in unison just makes you feel that you belong. You are part of this passionate, sensitive minority that dare to feel, that dare to voice out what they feel, that dare not to draw a veil over the reality and face the ugly. Besides, its the only place that you get to see so much hair flying all over the place, curly hair, straight hair, wavy hair, dreadlocks, colored, highlighted ( you name it, they got it) split ends gleaming in the spot lights, sometimes whipping across your face, sweat beads gleaming like diamonds in semi-darkness. Sigh...... That would be ideal right now, the absolutely scrumptious music, the complex orgasmic guitar riffs, the drums bada-booming for their sheer life..........bliss.
Ok, so the purpose of this blog post was to let out my frustration and the fact that I would very much like to blow my ears off this very evening but I went on an unintended eulogy on metal which was not my intention at all. While I intend to rush, gush and drool over the merits and the euphoria of the whole metal subculture some other day, I should really get back to the books right now. Arghh!! somebody please kill me!! :S
Gigs. I usually associate them with cigarette smoke, flying, whipping hair, booming, screeching voices, Darling's arms wrapped tightly around my waist and reverberating loudspeakers of awesome, awesome music. Right now, going to one, losing myself in the midst of the haze of cigarette smoke and the gamuts of those divinely inspired extra-scrumptioulicious music and the tempestuous sea of bobbing heads and hurtling bodies seems so very sinfully sacrosanct. And that childlike open-mouthed, sparkling eyes expression on The Darling's face at the opening chords of a mind-blowing guitar solo (which I had tried to capture on camera so many times but miserably failed) just makes my day :D Coming home in the middle of the night, cruising through the darkness with your significant other, smooching at each traffic light and shocking the pedestrians ( well, can't help it folks:P) , hair smelling strongly of cigarette smoke that just does not go away until you wash your hair the next day, fearing what your parent's reactions might be if they dare to sniff you out is another adrenaline pumping experience. Waking up the next morning with a huge-ass grin on your face, half-deaf with last night's music still ringing through your head, hair still smelling of cigarette smoke is well, nothing compares. Although I do wonder, if it is possible for someone like yours truly ( who is a non-smoker and a non-drinker btw) to get lung cancer just by inhaling these monstrous fumes that are trapped in an enclosed space with no chance of a waft of fresh air to get in. As much as I hate the smoke, I do have to admit that they give that much needed dream-like misty atmosphere that a gig, for me, is all about.
Why gigs? Because its the only place that gives you that head-pounding, jaw-shattering musical experience that you so crave for at certain points in your life. When the sugary-sweet, soft and mushy, all lovey-dovey sort of music just makes you want to gag, throw up fifteen times and smash the source of the sickly-sweet with your bare fists, metal is the ultimate lullaby that appeases the monster within. I've always thought of heavy metal as the one type of music that lets the individual voice out their rage, the anger, the frustration, the raw passion that resides deep within. Mother Dearest always says that we are so angry because we are constantly listening to "loud, angry, violent type of music" But isn't it so that we are listening to "loud, angry, violent sort of music" BECAUSE we are feeling angry and rebellious inside?
That of course is my personal opinion based on my personal experience as a music lover of all genres. One is free to oppose of course. My choice of music depends on the mood :)
Metal emerged as a result of the suffering of the people, the rebel against the crushing weight of the suffocating monarchy, the church, the governments. Metal emerged as a result of the rebellious souls who dared raise their voices above the drone of the system-worshiping parrots. And hence the perpetual presence of the devil and anarchy in their lyrics and the divine loudness of the music. Which we adore of course.
Although metal music became a trend and a rather popular subculture in later years, its uncanny that still, the people who flock around it ( I mean the ones who genuinely admire the music, not the wanna-be-rock stars who polish boots, wash and iron the cloths of band members with the hope of becoming a rock star one day cz that will make them look "cool") are people who are sensitive to what goes on around them. They are sensitive to the suffering around them and the suffocation that's causing it and subconsciously, they are attracted to the seemingly violent lyrics, the music which soothes and appeases. No wonder. Its the kind of music that speaks to your depths. No sugar coating here, no shallow words.
Which is why I prefer a gig to let off steam after a nerve-wracking exam any season. The feeling of collective raw passion, people grabbing hold of complete strangers and head banging in unison just makes you feel that you belong. You are part of this passionate, sensitive minority that dare to feel, that dare to voice out what they feel, that dare not to draw a veil over the reality and face the ugly. Besides, its the only place that you get to see so much hair flying all over the place, curly hair, straight hair, wavy hair, dreadlocks, colored, highlighted ( you name it, they got it) split ends gleaming in the spot lights, sometimes whipping across your face, sweat beads gleaming like diamonds in semi-darkness. Sigh...... That would be ideal right now, the absolutely scrumptious music, the complex orgasmic guitar riffs, the drums bada-booming for their sheer life..........bliss.
Ok, so the purpose of this blog post was to let out my frustration and the fact that I would very much like to blow my ears off this very evening but I went on an unintended eulogy on metal which was not my intention at all. While I intend to rush, gush and drool over the merits and the euphoria of the whole metal subculture some other day, I should really get back to the books right now. Arghh!! somebody please kill me!! :S
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Stress season at Grouch-a-Ville
Its high-stress season at Grouch-a-Ville and the Lady of the house is seen to be walking around with a demented,dazed look in her eyes and hair standing on its end as if she has been sitting on a Van de Graaff generator all day. Talking of electricity, there had been no power at all the whole day today and needless to say, pouring over hoards of notes, sweating like a menopausal pig and thinking about the blatant unfairness of life all day only added insult AND injury to the accentuated levels of grouchiness. Sigh......
Now would have been the perfect time to shove my head in an electrical oven and die (my idea of a memorable death) but since our trusty government has oh-so benevolently decided to cut down on our consumption of electricity, one is not even able to do that. Can't a citizen even DIE peacefully by a method of his or her own fancy in this bloody socialist republican country??? You know its pathetic beyond redress when even your choice of ways and means to die are being curtailed, cut down and controlled by the government. Sigh.............
Mangoes and yogurt (being two of my favorite food) had been my comfort food today to make the apparent abhorring nature of life and its complexities go away. Add to it some plump, juicy strawberries finely chopped and you've got yourself a bowl of divine goodness! The tangy, the sweet and the creamy accentuates and compliments each other making it the ultimate marriage of irrefutable perfection. God's food I'd say, though too much of it can make you feel rather queasy inside.
Speaking of God's food, I've long since wondered whether ambrosia is sweet or savory. I've always thought of it as sweet, but what about the Gods who don't have that much of a sweet tooth so to speak? If it was savory, what about the Gods who cannot handle the spices? (like yours truly here) I've always felt sorry for the Divine Kind for having to eat the same thing day in day out (imagine a God entering a restaurant and opening up the menu card *Ambrosia, Ambrosia, Ambrosia, Ambrosia, Ambrosia.............And today's special - AMBROSIA!!!!!) We the mortals are much luckier that way I suppose with so many types of cuisines and so many dishes and delicacies to choose from. Maybe God orders take-outs from earth once in a while. Who knows. The shady looking dude in a hoody standing in front of you in the take-out queue might just be a God who's fed up with the ambrosia menus.
Sometimes I wish I was a bookworm residing within the pages of the constitution. I could then eat and eat and eat away at its pages till there was nothing left and the future law students of the country would be spared the imminent torture of having to suffer through its many provisions and acts. I mean, how stupid is it that one has to go through a law paper just to get in to law college where you will be spending the next four precious years of your life studying law anyway? Wouldn't an IQ test and an interview do? I mean we have enough brain-dead parrots in our country to create the world's largest stuffed parrot museum, don't you think?
I get quite loony and violent during exam times and I've long since suspected that The Darling adores it (only this morning he confirmed my suspicion :D ) Anyways, he does his best to appease my nerves with bountiful declarations of love, gentle encouragements and promises of many "fun stuff" to attend to after the exam (Yeeey!!) So yes, its just another exam created by morons to depress us perfectly happy-in-sanity people and detract us from our collective mission of saving the world. (Yes, and The Darling agreed to help) I am no longer free to nap at unlikely hours *sob sob*
My fundamental rights are being infringed!! I demand an ex mero motu!! Help! I'm losing it! :(
Now would have been the perfect time to shove my head in an electrical oven and die (my idea of a memorable death) but since our trusty government has oh-so benevolently decided to cut down on our consumption of electricity, one is not even able to do that. Can't a citizen even DIE peacefully by a method of his or her own fancy in this bloody socialist republican country??? You know its pathetic beyond redress when even your choice of ways and means to die are being curtailed, cut down and controlled by the government. Sigh.............
Mangoes and yogurt (being two of my favorite food) had been my comfort food today to make the apparent abhorring nature of life and its complexities go away. Add to it some plump, juicy strawberries finely chopped and you've got yourself a bowl of divine goodness! The tangy, the sweet and the creamy accentuates and compliments each other making it the ultimate marriage of irrefutable perfection. God's food I'd say, though too much of it can make you feel rather queasy inside.
Speaking of God's food, I've long since wondered whether ambrosia is sweet or savory. I've always thought of it as sweet, but what about the Gods who don't have that much of a sweet tooth so to speak? If it was savory, what about the Gods who cannot handle the spices? (like yours truly here) I've always felt sorry for the Divine Kind for having to eat the same thing day in day out (imagine a God entering a restaurant and opening up the menu card *Ambrosia, Ambrosia, Ambrosia, Ambrosia, Ambrosia.............And today's special - AMBROSIA!!!!!) We the mortals are much luckier that way I suppose with so many types of cuisines and so many dishes and delicacies to choose from. Maybe God orders take-outs from earth once in a while. Who knows. The shady looking dude in a hoody standing in front of you in the take-out queue might just be a God who's fed up with the ambrosia menus.
Sometimes I wish I was a bookworm residing within the pages of the constitution. I could then eat and eat and eat away at its pages till there was nothing left and the future law students of the country would be spared the imminent torture of having to suffer through its many provisions and acts. I mean, how stupid is it that one has to go through a law paper just to get in to law college where you will be spending the next four precious years of your life studying law anyway? Wouldn't an IQ test and an interview do? I mean we have enough brain-dead parrots in our country to create the world's largest stuffed parrot museum, don't you think?
I get quite loony and violent during exam times and I've long since suspected that The Darling adores it (only this morning he confirmed my suspicion :D ) Anyways, he does his best to appease my nerves with bountiful declarations of love, gentle encouragements and promises of many "fun stuff" to attend to after the exam (Yeeey!!) So yes, its just another exam created by morons to depress us perfectly happy-in-sanity people and detract us from our collective mission of saving the world. (Yes, and The Darling agreed to help) I am no longer free to nap at unlikely hours *sob sob*
My fundamental rights are being infringed!! I demand an ex mero motu!! Help! I'm losing it! :(
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