So I got the chance to listen to Usher's OMG closely while I was bored and stuck in traffic today. It went something like this.
"Never ever has a lady hit me on the first sight
this was something special ; this was just like dynamite"
And I went awwwwwwwww...................and felt somewhat warmish on the inside thinking to myself that this whole club music thing aint so bad after all. That's when I heard the next two lines :
"Honey got a booty like pow, pow, pow
Honey got some boobies like wow, oh wow"
And I went OH MY GOD! :O
I slammed on the breaks so hard that I felt my guts coming out of my mouth. Whether it was the brakes or the song I will never know.
This got me thinking. Call me old fashioned, but whatever happened to the good ol days when people wrote songs about everlasting, unconditional love, falling in love with somebody's eyes, the heart, the soul (basically anything other than their surgically enhanced bootays and boobays) wrote about wanting to love them forever or die trying. What happened to the good ol days when people wrote about love betrayal and how lost love made them want to die or kill the biatch in the most painful way possible and hang her guts outside her house for crows to peck at? (Please excuse the graphic content, I grew up on heavy metal and watch too much horror movies for my own good.)
Anyways, my point being, the world has horribly changed while I was away typing assignment after assignment it seems. The definition of the word "love" has changed too and it does seem like unconditional love is just a nip, tuck and a whole load of silicone away. This is the age where men fall in love with butts and boobs and swear lifelong commitment to these fleshy, bulbous assets. But who am I to complain? I'm too old fashioned and too much of a softy to live in the 21st century! Sigh............
Maybe its just that people have become more honest of late? Men have always been visual creatures and even ancient Sinhala artists drew intimidatingly colossal-breasted women on cave walls and poets did write about fist sized waist lines, swan-like boobs (??) and cart wheel sized rear ends, but I always imagined that it took much more, like the qualities, the personality, the soul, the understanding, etc (I'm trying to ignore the celestial harps in the background) than the physical aspect of it for somebody to fall in love. Or rather, the hopeless romantic in me wanted to believe so. I mean, physical attraction IS important, but it's not like you can build a whole relationship on it. Well, disillusionment hurts.....( bangs head against a wall for stupidity)
Maybe it's time for us women folk (who seem wayyyy behind our times) to write about sausage like biceps, surfboard abs, oxen-like shoulders, camel-like legs, pumpkin-like butts and fascinating crotch areas (testicles being a no-free-view zone) and falling in love. But then I have always wondered how anyone can be mesmerized by someone else's stinky old butt cheeks or frighteningly humongous mounds of flesh upon what are supposed to be their arms. Oh well.....Different people, different tastes........
I'm too green to be writing about these things. Too naive and too much of a romantic with my head in the clouds. I should probably stop. Stop and go on to discuss about the post-colonial aspects of Duras's and Jean Rhy's writings......Which is what I really SHOULD be doing right now. Sigh.........
As to news back at home, me being stung by a wasp (don't ask) has a humongous bicep of my own on my forearm ( funny place to have a bicep but something is better than nothing I guess ) which itches constantly and hurts like the place has been trampled by an elephant being chased by a swarm of vicious wasps. It's been two days and the swelling hasn't gone down yet. Our neighbor has finally cut down the jungle that he called his garden and now you can actually see that there is a house in there. I have always imagined it to be a cave and had vivid visions of cavemen and women in wadha outfits (complete with clubs, untidy dreadlocks, yellow pointed teeth, unwashed faces and all) emerging out of the cave and doing the ritualistic dances around bonfires, hooting and waving their clubs in the air, to the beat of a sacrificial drum. But then he always plays Tamil and Hindi songs ( not so quietly too) older than time itself. Maybe he does his ritualistic dance around his sound system. But then I've always imagined him owning a dusty, cob webby gramophone. There is talk that he is going to move. No more ear-carving Tamil /Hindi song bonanzas during exam seasons I suppose after he moves. Yeeeeey!! (does the cool dance)
That being said, I really must be writing an assignment right now. I'm heaped with work and I'm badly feeling the necessity in making a time table ( yeah right! ) and organizing my work ( As if I'l ever stick to that! Pfft! ) Had our writers' meeting today and was forced upon ( they called it awarded ) a box full of accounts, receipts and what-not for balancing and keeping track of. Well, being a writer is hard work. Especially when it comes to balancing account books............or rather account BOXES........... :S
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