The end of a year approaches!

The Lady's head is quite muddled up. Red, yellow and fish rains, aliens, Sri Lanka coming on top of sex searches, brutal rapes, etc, etc, etc........it really is too much to wrap one's head around.

The world is enraged over the rape of one girl. Suddenly, protest against rape, the safety of the womankind has become the in thing. The world knows of one such victim but how many unknown victims are still suffering in silence out there? Did anyone care about them, did anyone bother to find out before all this? How many are being raped on a daily basis and how many of them have to live with the memory, the trauma and be disgusted with themselves, their bodies and live in constant suspicion and fear of the world? How many girls will never be able to trust anyone again as long as they live? How many girls will not be able to take off the dark glasses through which they look at the world and eventually end their own lives in disgust and depression? I'd say that this particular girl was lucky to not have to live with the trauma. An extremely brutal, tragic death I'd say but I still believe that she is lucky to not have to live with the memory for the rest of her life.

However, it is quite refreshing to see such passion, such vigor over the very necessary cause of stopping rape. Finally it seems that people have woken up. Hopefully the passion would not die down. Hopefully something would actually happen this time, for all the harassment, the rapes, the violence, all this has to end. The girl should be canonized for all the uproar. She is a martyr in her own right.

To top that off, I still live around people who think women are dumb (in their own words). I'm disappointed. Expected more, much much more I must say. Dunno what to make of it yet. This is quite serious.

And yet, a new year approacheth. 2013! Can't believe 2012 is almost done.

My new year resolution this year is not having any new year resolutions. The idea is to live each day as a new beginning, starting over each day, trying to become a new person. I've tried that for the past year and liked it very much. Feels good when you feel that each day gives you a chance to start over, to look over the mistakes you've made and your inconsistencies and make up for that. Its like having second chances everyday in your life.

What have I done in 2012? I have lived, I have loved, I have laughed, I have cried, I have sulked and pouted and then I have danced in glee and hugged myself in utter bliss. I have worked my rear end off, I have made my loved ones happy, I have spent precious times with them - moments that I shall cherish forever. And I've also achieved a lifelong dream that had always seemed only a dream : publishing a book. And what's more, a book that is liked and commented on very fondly! I've made friends, learnt a huge deal about human beings that I had been completely unaware of before, unlearnt quite a few things too. Its been a journey of learning, of experiencing and all in all, a great year.

Craving tea. And such cravings must never be ignored! Away goes the Lady to the kitchen quarters, robes rustling, mug clanking and all!

Christmas post

Christmas came and went. Wasn't as christmassy this time so there was no real sense of exhilaration as there usually is at this time of the year. Made Christmas goodies as usual, out of habit than out of enthusiasm and shared Christmas dinner with The Darling's family. Happy family time.

Grouchy as there has not been any worthwhile gigs or concerts to attend this season. The only highlight of the season was watching The Hobbit in 3D which was pretty awesome. Came home and watched the LOTR trilogy again. I have lost count of the times that I have watched that thing. Other than that things have been very much neutral.  

I suppose the apocalypse mania has not yet subsided. People are watching the skies for spaceships with bright lights while others watch out for red, yellow or fish rains. Now that war is over, we seem to miss it very much and try to find alternatives.

A nation of children we have become. They show us bright lights in the night sky and slyly increase the atrocities, the absurdities and the injustices that ail the country in the present time and age. And we succumb without fuss. I dare say we are easy to please.

The novel progresses slowly, 2-3 sentences a day which is pathetic. I'm just too lazy to sit down and type. Nevertheless poetry comes easy and lies around in scraps of paper. On top of all that, work looms. But I manage to finish all that in time. However, life is dull as we speak. Or as I type.

I'd like to go far away, help needy people, do something worthwhile, not for some snobby corporate purpose but for humanity.

The neutralness of neutrality. How very empty.

I guess I'm an adventure seeker. I need a new challenge.

Date with myself

Went on a date with myself. Not that I planned it, it just turned out that way. Nevertheless, I had a good time. Turns out I am very good company.

A quiet breakfast out with a book to keep me company. I sat there watching people passing by. It felt good just sitting there, not participating in the hubbub of life but just being a spectator. A rare chance I must say.

But there is a minus factor to it. A guy sees a girl breakfasting alone and he always seem to want to join in. Maybe we should carry "leave me alone" signs whenever we are out alone to avoid being rude to someone.

And then I ended up (not intentionally, but circumstantially) perfume shopping. This is something that I will never get tired of doing. Fragrances fascinate me. And this is something I like doing alone because I don't like impatient people tutting about me telling me to hurry up. I cherish these moments and I like taking my time deciding before I make a purchase (I do not like being disappointed in them you see). In the process, I discovered a bottle of Hugo Woman, (my signature perfume from a while back which I had no luck in finding afterwards because the perfume itself had been discontinued). I was pleasantly surprised and felt very very lucky indeed.

And then I ended up (not intentionally but circumstantially) sitting down, not doing anything, just watching people passing by. There is a beauty to that feeling you see, of having no aim, having absolutely nothing left to do, just soaking in the ambiance even if it is for a limited amount of time. Christmas was everywhere, the lights, the decorations, Christmas trees shining bright. There were also three people, a father and a daughter and another girl singing Christmas carols strumming a guitar. It was beautiful. I could have sat there and listened to them forever.

And then again I ended up lunching alone (once again, not intentionally, but circumstantially) and had the most beautiful of soups - Cream of wild mushroom. This was at Sugar - Bistro and Bar at Crescat. I would most definitely go there for another. Their apple pie was really bad though. Plus they gave me fresh milk when I asked for fresh cream to go with it. It was an utter disappointment.

And finally my date, The Darling did arrive. We ended up having funky, brightly colored ice creams at the Rio Ice Cream van on the Marine Drive. Wanted to watch The Hobbit in 3D, but turned out they did not have a 4.30 show. So the rest of the evening was spent at home with The Darling, watching TV, light banter and plenty cuddling.

What I did realize was, I really do cherish my alone time. Its quite a novel experience being left alone with yourself and your thoughts. Watching others is only possible when you are out alone. When there's more people, you become part of the spectacle, the drama. But when out with yourself, you are with yourself and you are able to do what you please. You are not obliged to speak nor are you obliged to think of anything else than what you want to think. And you don't have to be considerate, consider other people's wants and needs, you just do what you want to do, then and there. It is a great privilege, a luxury I believe.

Point is, I really did end up enjoying myself, although all of it was rather circumstantial. Conclusion - I should have dates with myself more often. I am a darned good date! :D

Wedding post - 4

It's decided. I'm eloping. When I do make up my mind to get married and settled down that is.

No big, frilly, fancy and flowery wedding for me please. No long and torturous hours of smearing sticky gooey stuff on the face, draping yard after yard of shiny sequined material around myself. No bottles of hairspray and hair gel emptied over my head resulting in helmet-like hair that wouldn't crack even if a 1000 pound boulder ended up on my head. And certainly not dragging all this heavy garb around (followed by an entire battalion of photographers, video cameras and etc) visiting a countless number of tables to worship, hug, kiss and exchange awkward words and silences with people you may only see once in every few years!

No pretending to be all prim and proper, calm and collected with a bouquet of dying vegetation in my hands. I know I'm not the type, I know I would never pull it off, this shy, descent bride act. I could never be a protagonist of this well rehearsed satire. Even if I was made to, I would be very, very unhappy doing it.

All these weddings and they've got me thinking. I will not be human if I they did not get me thinking of my own self. Well, someday, one fine day when I am ready for the long haul, I will do it my way.

There is one thing I would want though. I would want platinum wedding bands. I am convinced that love is indeed the best thing in the entire world and therefore, that it deserves the best that there is to represent it, to remind one another of the purity of this emotion every single day of our lives. I would want us to be constantly reminded that we are the best for one another as there ever can be and that each one is precious to the other as nothing else would ever be. I would like to be reminded of that every single moment I look down at my hands. I would want him to be reminded of that.

Of course with all the cost cutting on ridiculous flower arrangements, glitzy cloths, clown makeup, hotels and other absurdities, we would be able to purchase several kilos of platinum to spare and a luxury honeymoon trip around the world.

I would want to throw a party of course for the people who love and care about us the most. A party where there would be a lot of dancing, a great fun party where there would be plenty of food and entertainment, maybe even fire eaters and stilt walkers. I'm thinking an entire circus! (Minus the clowns, the bearded lady and the animals of course). Live music by all our favorite musicians that we could get together. And bonfires, large warm bonfires where we could all sit around and roast marshmallows and cuddle by on a beach. That is what I would call romance, quietly settling down on the beach with the loved one after the frantic partying, and cuddling by a bonfire, gazing at the stars, preferably in comfy cottons and bare feet buried in the cool soothing sand.

And all this would be because we are thrilled to finally be together, thrilled about the brand new life we are about to start by ourselves. All this because the time is right, because we want to stretch out an arm and feel each other's faces and look into each other's eyes in a heartbeat and because waiting for a hug or a kiss for more than 24hrs is unbearable. Because coming home would mean a large, big squishy hug, plenty of smiles and much, much more love than you could ever handle. I would like that, to be smothered by love. What a way to go!

Not because you are getting too old to make children or people are asking you questions. Not because everybody else is getting married and you feel that you have to too. And certainly not because you feel you have to validate your love and commitment by law to make sure that the other person isn't getting away!  

What is not romantic are the blazing lights, the discomfort of cloths that are always a little too tight, worrying about the makeup running, being ordered about by photographers, nakath people, parents and event planners to be on schedule, to leave on time, eat on time, do this, do that - how very boring!

I know its every parent's dream to have their daughter married off at the grandest wedding that they could muster up. I have never been one to break my parents' hearts or let them down in any way. In fact, never have I done a single thing to hurt them in the slightest way in my entire life that I am almost ashamed of being so good. I've always been the perfect little girl who they've always wanted me to be, so this time, I think I deserve a bit of slack. I'm just gonna have to find a way to tackle them as softly as possible when it comes to this particular subject. I think they'l understand even if reluctantly. They've always known me to be an odd one, an unpredictable eccentric if you must. So I'm sure they will bend just a little bit.

Not just now though, I'm happy and comfortable with the way things are just now. Although nosy aunties always poke and inquire (rather aggressively at times) about my wedding plans and even my own parents subtly allude to the topic at times too, I'm determined to wait till I'm absolutely sure that I am ready. I do not mock the institution of marriage in any way, I think its necessary and I know that I will appreciate the warm and plump wholesomeness of conjugal bliss, a home to call my own and arms to curl up in at the end of each tiresome day. Its just the pomp and the fanfare that unnecessarily surrounds it that gets me rolling my eyes. But all in good time my friends, all in good time................

Wedding post - 3

Have you ever noticed the way women try to eat food without getting their lipstick smudged? It always makes me laugh, the way they open their mouths wide, draw back their lips and stick out their teeth (this reminds me of a cartoon horse that I've seen on TV) chomp off a gigantic bite (probably because this entire course of action takes quite a lot of effort) and munch away.

Either the fact that these perfectly painted women eat or that they would want to eat manages to shock me. I suppose this is because for me in my mind these painted women are china dolls, inanimate, fragile and perfect. And because of this perhaps I expect them to be all prim and proper and not wanting to eat. So when they open their mouths and shove in huge chunks of food into the deep, gaping crevices (which is not such a pretty picture), it shocks me. I suppose I'm too much of an idealist, or whatever you call my kind of people.

Completely off the topic, (well maybe not completely off) it is surprising how many women come into salons in a day to get pedicures. I just happened to be at the salon the other day (yes, to let the chirpy girls paint me up pwetty for the weddingS) to see five different women getting pedicures and two more waiting in the line. Believe it or not, never in my life have I ever gotten a pedicure. I think I can take care of my toe nails myself (maybe why they look simply horrendous sometimes, but that is another story). No wonder women of today are in dire need of yoga classes, exercise sessions, diets and whatnot to fight off obesity. They don't even bother bending over to touch their own toes!

I was told by a friend who is getting married soon that they are given full body scrubs weeks before the actual wedding date. I laughed and asked her if the salon people finally figured out that she wasn't a big fan of bathing. To see with my own eyes the next day when I walked into the salon (the very same day of chirpy girls, pwetty paint and hairspray) the salon girls scrubbing away at a girl with determined expressions on their faces. They all flocked around her, each grabbing an arm or a leg or a piece of torso. We were told that she was soon to be a bride and that it was her whole body scrub day. I was horrified. The girl in the chair was bearing it well. She had pursed lips and a dignified half smile on her face. I admire her courage. Her skin looked raw and red. It must have been very painful.

Ah women and weddings. I can go on for hours...................

Wedding post - 2

If anybody was wondering (I highly doubt it) I'm alive!!! Survived two weddings and I'm still standing! Well, sitting to be precise but I can stand if I wanted to :) It all passed by - the flowers, the excess of sugary sickly sweetness, the clone-like straight haired people in masks of makeup (I managed to pass with a minimal amount of that sticky gooey stuff smeared on my face), the super glittery sarees that are capable of blinding people with the glare (think we could save a fortune on electricity if these sarees are put into good use) It was a mad rush from one wedding to another but hey, I survived!

And these weddings, they are never about the couple are they? Nobody even notices the couple anymore. They are covered with ginormous bouquets/balls/vases/etc of flowers and God knows what else, towering cake structures made out of rigifoam and whatever paraphernalia that has been set up all over the place, the sea of people glistening all over the place, the hundred and one photographers/videographers crawling all over the place and etc. The only remnants that a wedding ever took place is the colossal poruwa standing in a corner quite forgotten. Its mostly about which hotel the wedding took place(the more expensive the better), how much the decorations had cost(the more gaudy the better), how elaborate the wedding cake boxes(again the more gaudy the better), how expensive are the bride's clothes and how expensive was the menu(which is probably the only highlight of a wedding, the food). Basically, a wedding today is a show of status of the parents, a competition of who holds the best wedding (with the most amount of nonsensical stuff that is of no use to anyone). Its like there's a competition out there for the most ridiculous function of the year!

And what's with that cake that nobody can eat? A cake is something that can be eaten, if a cake can't be eaten why is it being called a cake in the first place? I will never understand these things.

I know I am sounding a tad bit too all-knowing right now, (yesh, yesh Lady Grouchalot IS a bit of a know-it-all duhh!) but I'm really just wondering out loud here. Hmm...maybe one day I will understand. Just right now, none of these things make any sense!

Wedding Post - 1

So here I am body hairless and eyebrow-less (well, relatively less) ready for the weddingS tomorrow. The chirpy girls at the salon who are supposed to do my makeup tomorrow (I do not own any makeup and do not enjoy wearing any except for black eyeliner - a bare essential) insisted that I be hairless to look pretty tomorrow for the two weddings. Yes, TWO bloody weddings people, and back to bloody back!! And no coming home in between to grab a snooze either. Its from one to the other in a mad dash and then spending time staring into empty space for countless hours! Sigh............ If I do not report back, consider me dead from the excess of flowery powdery goodness, the fluff and the fanfare and the Godawful balloneyness of it all.

And everybody, including my own mother and even the people hosting the weddingS seemed absolutely shocked when I boldly declared that I did not intend to wear any makeup for the weddingS. Had no idea that I looked that frightful. So makeup it is :(

It seems that I am surrounded by weddings. Suddenly, everybody is in a hurry to get married, including my own brother. But thank God nobody's planning my own anymore. But I'm sure I'l get a lot of eyebrow wiggling, quite a lot of doomsday predictions of "you are next" and requests for wedding cake tomorrow. Sigh............aunties!

There is one wedding I'm actually looking forward to though, the wedding of two very dear friends who are tying the knot next week. So cannot say that my heart is completely set against weddings. Besides I'm waiting to see how The Darling is going to play his part as a Best man. I'm gonna enjoy watching him and his equally retarded friends make complete fools of themselves. Tee hee 3:)

Ramblish - again.

Me is strangely philosophic tonight. Me is strangely restless too. Well, not that strange cz restlessness is sort of my second nature.

It seems Christmassy already and its not even December yet. There is that warm, golden and deliciously syrupy feeling already in the air. Its so very exciting this sensation. Its like the world is getting ready for this big, happening party and I feel left out. I feel uninvited. Which makes me sad :(

On the other hand it gets me all excited. And me thinks part of the restlessness is due to this impending festivity in the air. Me also thinks I may be going bonkers. Not that its anything new. Only going bonkers for real this time, which sounds fun, weirdly enough.

Thinking of going to Midnight Mass this Christmas. I've never been to one my entire life what with us being Buddhists n all. My parents are usually up for anything but this being midnight, its usually very hard to drag them out at that time. I'd just like to sit there, soak up the hustle and bustle, watch the proceedings. I think it would be an interesting experience. I've always wanted to do it anyway. But never got the chance.

Speaking of going out at midnight, what's up with all these robberies going on these days? Its like Sri Lanka has suddenly gone underworld and has more gangsters and highwaymen than whole of Hollywood, Bollywood and Kollywood put together. And it seems these robbers always come wearing helmets on their heads so that people won't recognize them. The solution? Beat to a pulp anyone wearing a helmet. Sounds good to me. During my years of using public transport I've broken quite a few bones and teeth. I'm the violent kind that enjoys beating bad people to pulp *evil grin*

There's been a lot of murders too lately. For an island so small the numbers are horrendous. What is up with the people these days? Has the value of a human life gone down along with the depreciating rupee? Or are Sri Lankans pea brained morons and have been pea brained morons all along and it just took time for their selfish, pathetic, pea brained, moronic qualities to emerge? Associating with certain people here you do start wondering from where all these petty, conniving and unspeakably low qualities come from. Sometimes you become too shocked for words. Its just so sad. For a country so beautiful and so blessed, we Sri Lankans could be setting an example to the world with kindness and generosity that seemed so abundant in its natives long ago but what is now seen as a weakness and a reason to walk all over. This used to be a better place. But then again, it may have always been like this and I have not known it what with me always having been a very protected child (and for obvious and very good reasons too it seems)

It has become so bad that you are grateful for the smallest of the kind gestures, the most ordinary of common civilities. I feel so grateful when a stranger holds open a door for me. Or when at the supermarket, people smile and talk pleasantly to one another or someone pulls out a trolley for me or picks up something that I dropped and hands it over to me. Or when someone steps on your toes or barges into you and apologizes with a polite smile instead of frowning with sparks flying out of their eyes or starring at you as if they are about to bite your head off. Several years ago a smile, an apology would have been very normal things.

And what is with the wed-a-thon going on in December? December is bedecked with the flimsy bows and gauzy veils of weddings. For God's sake, we have two weddings on the same day, one in the morning and one at night and we are required to rush from one to the other without so much as a breather or a dab at the brow!! Its like people are suddenly in a hurry to get hitched before the great apocalypse, almost like people are going "oh I don't wanna die a virgin" and grabbing the nearest dude/dudette and rushing off to screech out their marriage vows (not that I assume in anyway that brides and grooms are virgins and neither do I expect them to be) But honestly! I know a couple who knew each other for less than three measly months and they are to be married in December!

Yeah well, its no secret that people stopped marrying for love long time ago. Convenience is at the top of the list now, the next being social security and parental bullying. Well I miss the old world romance of marrying because you cannot be without one another. I miss the bitter sweet romancing of the old world. Do I sound too old? Well, I am only 25.

But it can be that in the olden days people married out of sheer desperation. Kids did not have the kind of freedom that they have now. Girls were locked up within houses out of sight and relationships were quite unheard of. Going third base usually meant holding hands and hitting home happened strictly after marriage those days. But there is no question that this method worked. Cz you practically marry this stranger and by the time that you've figured one another out, you are too old to bother anymore. Well it worked for them, no one's complaining.

In that sense, the modern day marriage seems much more honest. You have all the time in the world to get to know one another mentally, emotionally as well as physically. And I think its more romantic too. Well to know somebody inside out, know their weaknesses, their irritating habits, knowing that they get on your nerves so horribly sometimes and still wanting to marry them and dedicate the rest of your life to them, well it doesn't get any more romantic than that. Pity that most of us are so indecisive most of the time. One day you decide that you want to put up with all those annoyances and the next you decide that you can't. Hence so many divorces. I just wish that people could make conscious decisions and stick to them. And plus, just because you are in a relationship that doesn't mean you have to marry that exact person. The whole point of the relationship part is to know whether that person is suitable for the permanent vacancy that you need to fill in your life, duhh. Cz lets face it, nobody wants to die alone. You might as well have somebody to whine to about the aches and pains of old age by your side.

More flu-ish ramblings

Why, oh WHY is it that most institutions make it an utterly unnecessary ridiculous point to turn their air conditions on full blast even in the most spine glaceing weathers? I found myself wondering as I sat there shivering in my imaginary socks as I paid a visit to the doctor (I think his middle name is never-on-time) today to try and find a way to curb this fever monster of mine. Is it a statement that they are trying to make(oooh, look at us vaporizing precious funds down our AC vents cz we've got SO much of it, woot, woot!) or is it just that they are particularly fond of the Ceylon Electricity Board to offer them the extra funding to nourish the noble and bloated (nobly bloated?) political figures feeding off its very nipples? While I could feel tiny icicles forming on my nose, my senses otherwise numbed from the feverish chill were thus slapped awake from the cold blasting off from the AC chutes as I choo-chooed away on my very own train of thought.

Well, me being practically, technically and literally bed, couch and chair ridden (where my bum lands is where I am supposed to spend the next couple of hours or so) I have a lot of time on my hands to think. Besides, those were the good doctor's orders. "You are not to walk! If you want to move, find some other way of doing it," he said (Oh excusez-moi doctor while I ring for my very own personal gold-plated eunuch to carry me from near Le royal TV to Le Messy Royal Desk and from Le Messy Royal Desk to Le Smelly Royal Toilette) Hence, do forgive my rambling on from one disjointed thought to the next.

I have noticed of late that a "pie" in the Sri Lankan context is basically a pastry that is round in shape. For example, you are guaranteed to find the same filling that is in the chicken pastry in the chicken pie as well. Therefore, there really is no need to be purchasing a chicken pie and a chicken pastry both (unless you are a sucker for shapes that is) which makes it all the more economical for the knowing customer. For the unknowing customer, well tough luck.

Why is it that kids on TV never complain to their dads that they are hungry? Why is it that it is the mom (with le knowing smile and le superior I'l-feed-u-goooooood look on her face) who has to always be ready with snacks, two minute(I always thought they forgot the zero next to two) noodles and whatnot to satisfy those forever rumbling tummies? Bash me with 'the mother has always borne the role of the primary caregiver' and all the blah, blah theories, but it IS the 21st century people! In this roly-poly economy of ours (aaaaaand with a budget like ours), both parents are required to work and none has time for listening closely to hear the first rumble of a bottomless pre-teen tummy (which groans all the bloody time). Plus most women have thriving careers today and plenty of men are stay-at-home dads who perform their duties as well as any mother would do. I for one have bugged both Mother Dearest and Daddy Dearest when I'm hungry (yesh, yesh I've been a pain in the ass to both *guffaw snort*)

Also on Sri Lankan TV, the perfect family has two kids, a boy and a girl. Two boys or two girls in a family would be absolute atrocity, blasphemous even. The mommy is always smiley and the daddy is always protective. Mommy is always stick thin (despite bearing two pudgy kids) very fair (despite endless hours of chasing one or the other in the sun) and her hair is always neatly brushed, straightened or tamely brushed back into a ponytail (in between laundry, dishes, putting an entire feast on the table on daily basis and etc). Daddy always wears a crisp linen shirt and neat trousers or he is a hard working man with a tie and a shirt and a briefcase to whom the naughty children run after he comes home from a long day of work. Oh and the kids are utter nuisances, complete ruffians. They jump on beds, they fight over everything, they climb trees, break pots and etc. And the Mother-in-law is always Kandyan Osari clad, hair in a bun, gentle but stern sort of character (why can't she wear a loose frock like most old ladies do in this time and age). The Father-in-law is never very significant (poor thing). If he IS portrayed (and it is never implied whether he is an in-law or not), he is often out of the way, reading a newspaper or a Bana book in the veranda.  

Oh and the house is almost always a walauwwa (spellings?) type. The servant men and women or common village folk always wear sarongs, cloths and blouses. The girls wear chintz frocks with hair in two braids.

Yes yes I know the whole "appealing to the nostalgia" trick up their sleeves, but lets face it, how many of us  have even SEEN a real live walauwwa? How many of us know the difference between the breeze in the Mount Lavinia beach and the breeze that sweeps across the muddy, luscious green of paddy fields? I absolutely adore old houses but never in my life have I seen one in full function. I love the calm and whispering breeze of the paddy field but can't really tolerate the mud and the cow dung sticking to the soles of the feet or the various vicious insects that leave me itching for days after the sting. While I think its beautiful this recreating or, conjuring up a whole new reality in the eyes of the new generation, how real is it is the question. On the other hand, does it have to be real is the next question. Oh well.......... ...  

And WHY or why are the artsy types always portrayed as long-haired, bearded dudes? Why can't clean shaved guys with decently cropped hair be artistic? Its not like a painter would use his hair to paint when he runs out of pain brushes. Neither does a musician use his hair or the beard as strings for his instruments. Well it does serve the purpose for metal artists because headbanging with short hair just ain't the same (Oh by the way, I am mishing a good gig. Its been too long *sob*)

Not that I have anything against long haired, bearded dudes. In fact, I am a huge fan of long hair and overgrown beards (on guys mind). Just not liking the exploitation of it on mass media and everywhere else. It seems the current trend for the regular dudes to grow their hair and let the beards run havoc on their faces. And this too for the heck of passing off as artsy and cool. Well, the depraved and desolate artist look is an easy look to pull off I'd dare say. You just have to not shave, not go to your barber for a while and maybe not even bathe to achieve the desired effect.

Long haired writers of course, are very few. I suppose that is because they have realized that hair has no significant role to play in their vocation. If any, it only gets in their eyes and gets in the way of writing.

Rambled on enough me thinks. Craving for pol sambol, karavala and rice. Haven't seen the likes of rice in three whole days! *sob sob* :'(

Flu blues

Down with that abominable flu. Surviving on a diet of Marmite, pills and woodapple jam since yesterday.

The only tastes that my taste buds will even remotely register is the utmost sweet and the acrid sour. Anything else just goes down as pure, awful bitterness at the base of the throat. Which automatically makes eating a real chore. Therefore the diet of Marmite, woodapple jam and pills, all very necessary evils for my sustenance.

Last night was one of pure chaos. The fever turns the mind upside down it seems and makes me conjure up the most fascinating nightmarish images in my mind. At one point, I honestly believed that I was going mad. At the failure to sleep, I found myself wandering the room on unsteady feet just to keep the strange and harrowing  images out of my head.

Budget 2013 *facepalm* Oh well, at least we'l be whizzing about in sports cars in no time.

The lecture at the American Center went very, very well the other day. I had so much fun. Not only did I speak to an audience here in Colombo, I also had the rare chance to speak to an audience from Jaffna live from Colombo which was a brand new delightful experience for me. Anyways I heard that several people even turned up late which was a pity. The American Center people are pretty punctual. And I like that about them.

I am soon to be faced with the horrors of being a bridesmaid. Under normal circumstances I would have run a mile, fled the country, changed my identity (real Bourne Identity style) but this is an instance that I just cannot escape. Sigh.....so let me be yet another dummy for some random dress maker to drape some flimsy clothing around, for some random beautician to rub in various forms of paints and powders, prop me up next to the bride and smile and preen myself at the photographer's command. Sigh.......I know this is going to be absolute and utter torture. But yet I must do all that for family's sake. Brother Dearest, you owe me BIG TIME!!

The persisting dream-like state of being calleth for me to float on dream-like towards the bed. More updates later. Beat that flu monster!


  

Kudos to the nice people!

Dropped by the NLDSB (National Library and Documentation Service Board) to drop off a copy of "Scattered" as obtaining an ISBN number requires me to. Now this being a government office (and we all know the amount of pain one has to endure to get anything done in one) was prepared to vehemently, violently and exquisitely tell several individuals off for abject rudeness, indifference, inefficiency, laziness and a whole load of other qualities that belong in a similar semantic field when we went up a narrow and dark stairway into a range of hot and cobwebby offices. Instead the response indeed surprised my very toenails off and aborted the pre-planned attack strategy in the womb.

First we were greeted by a smiling gentleman seated at a desk piled with files who referred us to another smiling lady who actually got up from her seat and hastened outside the office to get us the letter that we require. Well, not that we wanted it and neither did we know that we are supposed to get one, but they were keen to give us one so we waited. When she found that the book has not yet been entered into the computer system (I guess the government sector still lacks significantly in this department), the aforementioned gentleman bade us take a seat and bustled about to get the letter for us. Within 5 minutes we were approached, apologized for the inconvenience (while inwardly I gaped in surprise) and was told that the letter (that we did not really need) will be mailed to us within the week because they can't access the computer system (note to government- get them better computers and update them often!). In addition to that, he also introduced us to several other facilities offered by the Board to authors to which we also signed up to and through which processes we were pushed through quite easily as well. Me and Father Dearest climbed down the obscure staircase still very stunned by the response. 

Earlier in the day Father Dearest went to the Land Registry and knowing how government offices work (again) I had gone well prepared with my iPod and a good book to read. No sooner than I had stretched myself in the car, plugged on the iPod and opened my book to read, Father Dearest was back. I stared open mouthed. He said that the people were very nice. Well, the government offices had definitely taken a turn for the better. Or was it just the National "Be nice to people" day and we just happened to be lucky? Well, I intend to find out.    

However, the working condition of these long suffering government servants are simply appalling. One ceiling fan blackened wit dust and grime circles quite unwillingly in a large room of about 8-10 desks. It is so very hot and stuffy in these buildings that it is no wonder if it seemed like they are always bad tempered. There is an imminent sense of abandon within the premises, and a miserable loneliness that is so depressing even though these offices are frequented by hundred of people daily. Blood indeed boils within these environments of heat, dust and ample cobwebs and it seems justified if these people do get snappish or churlish once in a while. Not that they have the right to take it out on the people who have traveled many miles in sweltering heat in overflowing buses, crushing their bones, breaking their backs, necks, limbs and torso to get their tasks done.  

Meantime, it does seem like all the nastiest grouchballs and hobgoblins of the government sector had been handpicked for sourness and dumped in the Bank of Ceylon. It seems unless you knew someone of the management, you would not even so much get a sideways glance from these hoity toities. The other day I had the misfortune of walking into the head office without Father Dearest for some purpose or the other to be serially ignored. As I sat aside till he arrived (he is somewhat known amongst the milieu and therefore will not be given the same icy cold treatment) and observed the customers and the self-important specimen behind the counters. Some customers were given freezing instructions and I swear I saw some of them shiver despite themselves. Some got their heads snapped off for filling the wrong application or a somewhat similar offence. Some received a cold glance while others were just dismissed with an absent flick of the wrist. I shuddered and swore to myself never to cross these premises without Father Dearest again. 

Maybe the air conditioning is too cold and their insides as well as their face muscles have frozen, making them incapable of producing any other expression except scowl? Maybe the canteen food is making them constipated, hence making them easily irritable and sulky (In that case, somebody must fire the chef!) These are young ones I'm talking about, 20's, 30's people whose youth had been mummified into eternal frowns and anger. They sit about looking ancient, without even a trace of that joyful, bubbly youthfulness that is characteristic of the younger years. Theirs is a look that is swollen with vanity and pride and I just don't see why.     

Not only BOC, most private institutions are harboring such vindictive souls nowadays. It really does seem that the government offices have ceased to be much of an attraction for these vicious individuals that they have now begun to be drawn towards the private sector. It is in any case, a dog-eat-dog world so I suppose these fiends have indeed found their homes in the private sector. 

Nevertheless, kudos to the gentlemen and the ladies who seem to be gracing the government offices these days. May you be blessed with many good and benevolent moods in the years to come and may your helpful, kind nature serve as a golden example for the more pampered, more privileged yet nasty as shoe polish on a hot dog officials of all sectors, public or private.   

"Scattered" news and reviews :)

Thought I'd take some time off rambling and post two reviews that had been done on my collection of poetry "Scattered." Click the link below to find the review written by Mrs Vijita Fernando, the venerated writer who is also the current president of the English Writers Cooperative of Sri Lanka.

http://www.nation.lk/edition/literature/item/11356-economically-scattered.html


Then one of my dear friends, Ramindu, a writer himself and an avid reader with immaculate literary taste whose judgement on literature I most vehemently trust was sweet enough to do this wonderful review on the collection. I think he has caught on certain points that most tend to miss out on when reading the work. Click the below link to access his review.

http://lmakuthan.blogspot.com/2012/11/scattered-jayani-c-senanayake.html

And I believe that another review by Prof. Yasmin Gooneratne is to be expected soon. Shall post it here once that comes out.

And then there is the Public Lecture at the American Cultural Center that I am supposed to give this Thursday. I was invited to speak about my work and I accepted albeit rather nervously as I am not very used to speaking about myself. Not a huge fan of public speaking but I shall do it nevertheless, for my book's sake. You are very welcome to attend if time permits.

That for now is all I suppose. Have a great Sunday! Missing the rain though. Things are much more interesting when it rains. Sun has this way of draining the voluptuousness out of life. Its almost sterile like being in a hospital room :( 

Happy times, yappy times :)

Judging by the rate that I am going, Mother Dearest is worried that I may empty the whole pantry (yes, even her "in case of apocalypse" stock). And NO, I ain't gobbling up whole polythene bags of flour or entire tins of condensed milk, its just that I am on one of those exhilarating cooking spells, the kind that makes you rush through the kitchen, carrots, beets and whole chickens flying about, flapping their featherless wings in fright.

Yesterday's 24hr raining spell inspired a brilliant warm chocolate pudding, sinfully oozy in the middle once the crunchy top layer of glamorously caramelized chocolate is cracked with a willing spoon. Beats by miles the pitifully dry, minuscule excuses of Lava cakes deceitfully advertised by the Local Pizza Hut. Today, spruced up an ordinary cucumber salad with leftover chickpeas from breakfast, coconut vinegar (no not the posh rice vinegar) and revolutionized an innocent looking mushroom curry with coconut water, a fine mix of greens plucked from the rooftop (yes, we have our very own herb rooftop now) and other condiments that simply horrified Mother Dearest into staring dumbfounded while she kept reminding me repeatedly that I am buying them lunch if I managed to screw things up. But then I almost never do ;) 

Then came the scrumptious apple pie in the afternoon that fragranced the entire house with the spicy promise of succulently exotic melt-in-the-mouth apply bites. Not very hard to make and ttruly a delight once baked and pulled out from the oven. I love that spicy smell wafting about the house. Reminds me so strongly of Christmas, mince pies and various other dishes being stirred up within the house. Now we are devoted Buddhists but I am a very lucky girl to have a mother who believes in celebrating every possible occasion worthy of a celebration. Hell, we even had a Christmas tree! And I used to hang up my school socks on the windowsill (for want of a chimney) hoping that the candy wouldn't smell of my feet all that much once Santa dropped some into them. And there always were goodies in them(despite the fact that they seemed suspiciously like the packets of toffee that Mother Dearest quickly slipped in to the shopping cart the other day). My good ol parents! 

The smell of baking, particularly the spicy-sweet, caramely aroma of apple pie always slap a broad smile on my face. It always cheers me up regardless of the mood I am in, this wonderfully exciting smell reminiscent of happiness, laughter and sparkling celebration. I feel so blessed to have truckloads of such delightful memories to seek refuge in that boost me up even in the most difficult of times. My gratitude overflows for my loving and original parents who make an inanimate structure of bricks, roof tiles and cement a warm and cozy home, who gave me memories to cherish and feelings to live for. I know that not everybody is as lucky to have such parents. I aim to be such a mother to my kid(s) one day, to create for them beautiful childhood memories, feelings to dwell in time and time again like my own mother had done. That apart from my goal of raising them on tasteful Metal music, Grimm's Fairy Tales, Edgar Allan Poe, Lemony Snicket, Tolkien, Charles Baudelaire poetry and Celtic music of course.  

Mother Dearest had always been a bit of a mad scientist in the kitchen. She still is and wouldn't follow a recipe for the life of her. I suppose I inherited the same qualities from her. Only that the genes have taken a more mutilated form in this generation that it manages to mildly shock the previous. Oh well.........

From state news today, things are not looking so good for the MRingdom. Its a little known fact that once the Executive tries to screw with the Legislative, things start getting abysmally fugly for the Executive. The recent impeachment attempt of the CJ seems to be the last stroke. Hopefully the power-blind f***tards will realize this in time because I feel eyes boring holes in their backs already. Well, who the hell cares if they so badly wanna dig their own muddy graves. I just hope that none of us will be dragged along to lie with them in it in the process.    

  

Ramblings

Rediscovered one of my old lovers, one in whose arms I've received much pleasure and spent countless hours cuddling and nuzzling, one who has brought so much solace and carried me away to euphoric lands where no worry existed. I've missed you much my Reading. All these years I've avoided you, education, occupation and other obligations have kept me away. I did not want to receive him for the fear of treating him with negligence. He was much too precious to be treated that way.

I feel that I am cheating on Writing, my current lover with Reading. Reading has never been a forceful lover but it has always been a very, very seductive one all the same. It beckons me with open pages, its hard, gleaming spine raised upwards, lying suggestively on the bed fills me with longing. Its impossible to resist. I HAVE to ravage through those pages until I'm satisfied.  

Now that I'm taking a break I have all the time in world. Now that I have all the time in the world, I realize for the first time in a long time what I have missed. Quality family time, much-missed Darling time, time to love, to hug and to be hugged, frolicking times with the petters, time for Reading, Writing, Photography and time for other loves of mine that I have grown attached to over the years. Cooking and baking flourisheth too, a dearly beloved obsession of mine that I never had enough time for. Now that I do have the time, weird combinations of ingredients, dishes and desserts emerge constantly out of the kitchen and Daddy Dearest complains that I'm making him fat. I tell him its all out of love.  

Looking forward to recommencing my 3 mile jogs too. I've missed those solitary ramblings. The rainy weather so far has deprived me of this pleasure. Hopefully nature shall not keep me long from my early morning sweat blast.

In the meantime, the feedback on "Scattered", my debut collection of poetry is tremendous. The highest possible praise came when a much venerated writer, someone who I had held in extremely high regard over the years mailed me personally full of praise for my work several days ago. It all feels like a dream although I know it is happening right now. When I first wrote those poems, I had never even dreamt of publishing them. Now that they are published, I can't help but feel tingles up and down my spine every time I hear something of my book. I find it incredible. It still a little hard to believe.  

Been pondering over the thought of taking up dancing again. However, I am 25, in other words, too old in the dancers' lingo. But I truly miss it, I have not danced in almost 3 years now. I am well aware of the cons in such a decision which is why I am even hesitating with the decision, or else like I usually do, I would have rushed at it without a second thought. I suppose age has indeed blessed me with wisdom or common sense or whatever it is that they called it over the years.

Rain just started beating down on the roof. I have missed it much today. Despite the 24hr raining spell last day, it hasn't rained a single drop today until now. Craving for that huge mug of warm milk with a piece of jaggery, my ideal nighttime snack. Have you tried it? Its absolutely divine!

National level drama queens

Was on the road today only to be shooed aside by a honking, light-blazing host of vehicles, army personnel, big bulky bodyguards and all the paraphernalia while several important looking cars sped past us. It was just offensive the way they were shooing away other vehicles on the road, glaring and gesturing very rudely with hands at the vehicles that couldn't get away in time. It was and it always is as if they own the bloody road. Well, maybe they do. Coz that's the way the politicos operate these days.

They get their Monteros, BMWs, Porches and Rolls Royces thanks to the humble votes of the pedestrians jumping away at the nick of time to avoid the muddy splash evoked by their posh vehicles. They get the bullies and the henchmen and the whole herd of them following around like love-sick puppies thanks to the long suffering citizen in the battered down Townace van stuttering along the road, the very stuff they chase away later on for their greater convenience. The irony is larger than life.

Of course I didn't get to see who sped past us in all the grand flurry. Of course once they cross over the Diyawanna, we don't get to see those overfed buffalo faces that we see plastered all over the walls and huffing and puffing on stages, beating on their chests ( When Tarzan did it, he was sexy. Not the case with these oversized meat loafs with lotsa wobbly bits) and swearing allegiance to the people on their own mothers during election times. That's just the way of life.

But what's with all the security? I mean its not like anybody would even bother to tap them with the back of a finger nail let alone go into all that trouble to kill them. I mean, the only reason we even raise our heads to look at em passing by is because of all the pomp and ceremony that allows us to have a good laugh at their expense when everything else around us in the country just makes us cry. Honestly, nobody cares about these funny little potbellies anymore. The politicos are no better a species than parasites to the people now.

The nerve to even ASSUME that somebody might be wanting to kill them just cracks me up. How very vain! Politician dudes, please grow up! Nobody cares enough to become a threat to you. So lose the jeeps and the guns already. And let the rest of us travel in peace.

SUCH drama queens really.

Observations, declarations!

Decided to jot down some observations that I had made during my measly existence of 25 years. I shall now try to jot them down, trying to respect the age old commandment "Thou shalt not ramble" (which of course I never seem to respect).

1. Most new born babies are ugly.
Yes I said it. They are like little spider monkeys, all arms and legs and their heads are so weirdly shaped that its almost scary. But of course they flesh out and become rosy cheeked and adorable afterwards, but the first month or so they are really scary. But the surprising thing is not that, but the fact that no matter how ugly they are, people tend to go 'aneeeeeeeeee' and 'ssssssssssssss' and 'cuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuute" over them and repeatedly so. I find this highly confusing. Either they really are cute and my eyesight is horribly wrong or its just social hypocrisy with people wanting to seem sensitive and caring. I dunno.

2. Baby pictures, even the ugly ones get a lot of likes on FB.
Again, social hypocrisy or am I just blind? Don't get me wrong, I think babies are adorable but I wouldn't really be cooing at a not-so-great looking picture of a baby on the internet.

3. People who don't own a pet or wouldn't even dream of getting one "like" and share pictures of little puppies and kittens and what not on Social Media.
Really. Its downright ridiculous and sad as to what extent one would go to get some attention.

3. People always say "Congratulations" or "Good luck" when people get married.
I don't understand. Is it "Congratulations that you finally managed to trick an idiot into to marrying you" or "Congratulations on securing yourself a quality man/woman who is wayyyyyyyyyyyy better than you" or "*smirk* Good luck, we'l see how long it will last"? This is why I always smile and shake hands with married couples keeping my mouth shut at all times.

4. Couple photos, no matter how blurred, ugly or f****d up they are get more likes on FB than individual pics.
Its a fact. Even if its the most commonplace, ordinary, blurred, cliched picture, even if the guy has a piece of kola mallum from his lunch stuck on his teeth, even if the girl has a booger hanging from her nose, it still gets more likes than an individual picture. Is it because we are all caught up in this romantic dream where all couples end in happily ever afters, strolling away hand in hand into the sunset or is it because we feel obliged to "like" such pics as a sign of our approval to imply that we are happy that they are together? Individual pictures hardly ever get noticed and even the most artistic, beautifully unique individual picture would get lesser likes than a couple picture. Why isn't individuality appreciated as much in this country? Must we always strut around in two's all the time? Is two indeed, better than one?

5. Women remain a mystery. Most are hard to work with.
What I have found out is that there are two kinds of women. Ones who have got over the immature pettiness of jealousy, vanity and competitiveness with other women (this is the rare kind) and others who have not matured enough and remain whiny, needy and calculating for the rest of their lives. And then there's the assumed mystery that most of them put on which always baffles me as to why, why and why.
I have worked with women whose life mission seems to be being bitchy to others, specially fellow female workers. I've seen this very blatantly in women who are in middle management while women in top management seem to belong to the rare type who are beyond the childish vanity. Is it because they believe that they are weak and that they are incapable of performing that they feel the need to manipulate people to get what they want? Maybe they really are incapable of handling the pressure and resort to petty means to achieve their goals? Either way, its extremely unpleasant and I'm never too psyched to work with such people.

6. Men are drawn to the girly, immature, frivolous and mysterious types although it always ends up biting them in the a**.
I have absolutely no problem with that if they do not end up complaining about "women" in general all the friggin' time. There are perfectly sensible girls with both their feet planted firmly on the ground if you really do care to open your eyes and look beyond the pretty face and the fluttering eyelashes. So PLEASE don't generalize. Problem is that most men folk fall for the perfectly elusive, seemingly innocent yet mysterious woman who misleads, manipulates and plays games with their minds. Then they act like their balls are being squished by a heated iron spanner till they get the girl. But once gotten what they've asked for, they complain that women are nagging, whiny, fickle, clingy and what's more, dumb and incapable of doing anything by themselves! If you don't like em, don't date em, simple as that. Really, SUCH drama queens!

7. Working with men is easier.
By men I meant "men" whose testosterone levels are well balanced with the amount of estrogen their glands secret. I have met with foul and lowly specimen of men who are obviously suffering from testosterone overdoses and I've met petty, vain and manipulative creatures whose estrogen levels have long surpassed the accepted limits and turned them into sexless things. But I do know quite a few fine men who are well cultured and are "gentlemen" in every sense of the word and I am very proud of their acquaintance. So you see, the hormonal levels are crucial.

However,

8. Most men tend to think if a girl is being nice to them, she likes them in a way that is not entirely platonic.
No, no, no and no. Sometimes when you are instinctively compassionate and caring, this happens quite a lot. Its awkward. But can't really blame the boys what with the majority of womankind playing games with this poor lot. I feel sorry for them sometimes. They must be very confused.

9. People find it shocking when someone speaks their mind.
We ARE living in the 21st century after all. I mean, if we are all thinking it, what's so blasphemous about saying it out loud? I'm a straightforward person and I like that quality in others too. Of course living in this country, I've figured out that speaking out your mind isn't always the smartest choice if you wanna live to be 30, but I don't see why we shouldn't do it when it comes to more domesticated matters. Speak your mind, lay it out there. Life's too short to be solving riddles.

I'm bored. Don't wanna write this anymore. Adios! Buenos noches amigos, hasta luego!

Trip back the memory lane

Went to see one of my old teachers, the one who introduced me to the English language and pushed me past all the complex grammatical and vocabulary labyrinths as if it were a mere bicycle ride. I don't ever recall stumbling. She made it look and seem like a breeze.

Rachael Dominique Margaret Pathirana is her name. She is ageless. To this day, I cannot really place how old she really is. She is as beautiful as she always was with the spirit of a young girl, clad in her customary dainty frocks and ornate jewelry. I suppose being with children made you look and feel young.

We practically spent our lives in that class. From Grade 2 right up to O/Ls we were there, 2 times a week for 4hrs each day. And we were hooked. I think it takes up a special kind of talent and quite a good deal of that special kind of love to sustain children's interest like that. She has a very big heart. The ones who grew up in her shade, learning from her is as same to her as her own kids and her own grand kids.

She keeps all the keepsakes from all her students. Today she unearthed a piece of my poetry that she had discovered among the pages of a book I had given to her to correct when I was in Grade 5. To this day, I had not known she had it. I suppose these things are her treasures.

Her voice is musical. She had always had a sing-a-song voice, so sweet and so liquidy in the ear. We used to have sing-alongs at Christmas and she used to sing with us always, her strong sweet voice rising above our young and coarse ones. She had a tinkling kind of laugh too, one that would ring above anyone else's. She still has all that. Not much had changed.

That beautiful picture of the Christ still hangs on the wall as it used to. I remember gazing on it listlessly for hours and hours while searching for the correct answer during exams, that odd moment of blankness and etc. I had always been taken up by the sheer, almost ephemeral beauty of it. It is just as it had always been. Only its frame is new. The old gilt frame is now replaced by a gold one.

She is a devout catholic married to a Buddhist. Sometimes we would see pictures of Lord Buddha among her rosaries and statues of the saints. It was a fine melange of religious artifacts up there on her desk. A curious thing her desk was. Always cluttered with books, pens and pencils and the most interesting looking items scattered about, along with that little brass bell that she liked to ring from time to time in class.

The long benches and the desks that we sat at still stands. Only they had been painted a posh black. But I'm sure if I looked close enough, I would still be able to see our childhood scribbles and pencil tip carvings there. She had banned correcting fluids in the class back then. And all because we wouldn't stop doodling on the desks with those things.

She still calls me her little beauty. She cannot believe how much I've grown and how I have become a woman in my own right. She asks me how many hearts I have broken already. I laugh.

Those were beautiful times. Christmas was always special as we would visit her place with gifts. She would serve us homemade Christmas cake and the piano would be played either by her or by her daughter Jeewani akki. There would be a lot of laughter, a lot of celebration. However, after her husband passed away a couple of years ago, things never did seem the same. She only used to go to Mass on Sundays. Now she goes to Mass on Fridays and Sundays both.

She raised a beautiful and a strong willed daughter. Jeewani akki tutored me on English Literature for my O/Ls. I remember always looking forward to those classes. The conversations were always very interesting as she treated us as adults and not as kids. She was a university student with a vibrant personality back then and I remember being quite mesmerized by her wit and sizzle for life. I haven't met her much since she got married and I wonder what she is like now. Nevertheless, I suppose I was a fortunate child who has had the opportunity to mingle with strong female personalities right throughout my life.

I could go on but I just realized that it is late and that I must sleep. Its so very cosy the manner in which the mind stores up these memories, images, smells, sights and sounds. However, things have changed very much. She is all alone what with her husband here no more, her daughter abroad and her son having his own family, having not much time to attend to her needs. Yet in my mind memories are all intact as if nothing has changed. In my mind we are all in grade 5, fighting over each other to win a red star, trying hard not to get any black marks on our records for talking too much or creating trouble in class. It was beautiful. Those golden afternoons laughing and passing notes in class, standing in line to get our work corrected and rejoicing when we get a V.V Good next to the big, red tick mark lashed out right across the page.

Burping for attention

Just when you think that you can no longer be surprised by the behavior of the Sri Lankan male, they surprise you again. Sri Lanka is filled with this curious species who seem to be on a lifelong mission to shock and surprise you on a daily basis. This particular specimen was met on a Sunday afternoon at a roadside cafe. Seated in the cafe facing the main road visible through the glass facade of the shop, I could see a man staring inside the cafe as if the people inside have just converted themselves into huge headed aliens and started dancing the samba. After a while he comes inside, orders some food and sits himself down at the neibouring table. Now I don't want to sound like a snob or a prude but the range of sounds that he made for that short period of time as he went through his food were just unbelievable. This could have been simply disregarded if not for the atrocious burping that started right afterwards which makes you wonder if indeed a human being is capable of burping such a lot. That's when we realized that he was burping and slurping to get our attention.

Now the cure for such attention whores had always been indifference and although my face muscles contracted and formed themselves in a painful grimace once or twice, I managed to look straight ahead while the man kept on burping and making repulsive smacking sounds with his mouth. We got up to go at which this curious specimen of a man too scarabled to his feet in a hurry and rushed out from his table, leaving more than half of his food still left on the table. Needless to say he followed us right out, slurping and burping. The sound was positively sickening.

The weekend itself was a smooth one. Went to the theater with Daddy Dearest just like the old times, found tickets for Evita and good seats too which was very lucky because they were the only seats left in the house by that afternoon. Now Daddy Dearest had always been my partner in theater as we share the same near-hysterical love for drama and with Mommy Dearest not being too keen on the art, I had always managed to drag him away with me whenever I set my mind upon watching a play. The Darling has always been a reluctant Theater goer and therefore, Daddy Dearest willingly filled in for the spot to keep me company for the evening. We had already checked for tickets on Saturday. They were all gone except for the balcony ones.

The play was good, it was a long time since I had last seen one of Jerome's plays. However, I did feel that the play in itself was a teeny bit crowded with too much information. Nevertheless, it was an afternoon very well spent.

Watched "Karma" on Saturday and spent the rest of the day in blissful joblessness, wandering around the whole of Colombo with a bunch of equally happy-go-lucky companions. Speaking of Karma, it was ok and I am glad that I watched it. However, I do feel that despite the astounding amount of awards and nominations that it had received, it could have omitted certain scenes and information here and there. Seemed a wee bit crowded in there, would have been nice if it were "cleaner". The idea was powerful enough, it could have been presented in a more striking manner. Oh well..............

I broke my mug of 2 years! Its funny how attached I've grown to that mug, seeing as it was an inanimate object. Nevertheless it had been my friend and companion through good times and the bad and it had always been there, that rounded weighty presence keeping me company through countless sleepless nights, nights of utter hysteria, blissful dreaming or hour upon hour of studying. Daddy Dearest had always referred to it as 'the Barrel', referring obviously to its shape and size and it had indeed been big and cosy just the way I liked it. That pudgy heaviness had always comforted me, holding my tea and coffee throughout the years. It had warmed me when I needed the warmth when everybody else had walked away. It was the only companion that I could tolerate on peaceful rainy evenings with the balcony windows thrown open or those difficult times when nothing seemed right. My mug always held the correct kind of comfort for trying times. That mug had a sense of humor. Nothing else would do, nothing else would ever take its place. R I P Mug. There can never be anymuggy like u :'(

Rain, Oh Beloved Rain.................

I know most people like rainy nights so that they could curl up and sleep. I on the contrary, feel more alive when it rains. I like to stay up and listen to the rain. Rain is fascinating, it has a music of its own. I like the sound of the rain on the roof, I like to hear it falling down on the leaves of the tress outside. I love the fluttering curtains in the loud blast of wind that somehow manage to get in through the windows. I love how the rain manages to block all sound out and invade your ears, almost forcefully with its powerful and earthy presence. I love how it would rush up on you and slowly wither away gently, like a wilting flower, yet with the promise to bloom again.

I love the rumbling thunder, the way it sometimes rattles the doors and windows, making the glass tinkle in that pretty way. I like the electric flashes of light from the heavens that appear and disappear again like a dream suddenly and unexpectedly just like it came. I like how after a flash of light you always expect a loud rumble from up above and how sometimes it never comes. I like the unpredictability of it all. Sometimes you just get a little too tired of the predictable formality of the world.  

I like it how rain manages to intensify some smells while drowning out others. For me, rain smells clean, it smells of new unpolished wood, yet to see the likes of varnish and other synthetic things. It smells pure and tranquil like a secluded world, still untouched by vulgarities of the outside. I have never smelt the "smell of wet earth" as many have described it. The closest I've ever felt of it is a mixture of trampled grass and rotting kitchen waste that faintly smelled of puss that oozes out of infested wounds and I cannot say that I like it very much. 

Another thing I love is hot tea or coffee on a rainy day and a big mug of it at that, no fooling around about the quantity of it. I love the almost scalding feel of it in my hands, I love its liquid warmth as it travels down the throat and radiates its warmth like a cosy blanket right across the skin. I simply love the smell of hot tea or coffee with the smell of the rain, mollycoddling in its fumes in an armchair, feet up just like I'm doing now. 

I also love the after-rain sounds. The never ending croaks of the frogs in the garden pond, the soft breathing, heaving sound of the trees, adjusting themselves after the downpour. I like the feel of the departing rain, its like a painful yet necessary act to preserve the beauty of the moment forever. That pain is beautiful, beautifully exquisite. 

I suppose I'm in a never ending courtship with the rain. And unlike any mortal relationship, the romance will never fizzle out.   

Typical tropical afternoon

Its one of those afternoons that make you breathless by the sheer naked beauty of it. One of those hot, slightly sweaty yet nevertheless golden ones that you usually spend out in the garden, with a large jug of homemade lemonade, fanning yourself against that inescapable tropical heat. The sun beams are extra golden today and the world seem to be rejoicing for God knows what reason. Am I drunk you ask? Yes, I guess I am, drunk with life, with the beauty surrounding me, this incredibly homey feeling of which I shall never get enough. Just thought that instead of grumbling about how incredibly sucky life is, this post is to celebrate life and afternoons like this that make you feel like a character in a romantic novel. Its a typical tropical afternoon and I wouldn't have it any other way.

There's music streaming in from the radio and the sound of unseen boys playing in the adjacent playground. Apart from that, everything else is peaceful. Sometimes, the leaves of the mango tree in the yard shine in the soft glare of the sun and other times, they slowly move to cast shadows and sun beams alternately across the lawn. It smells green and woody out there  a mixture of trees and burning wood somewhere in the distance. The light breeze that rustles the tree leaves is quite insufficient to quell the heat but nevertheless, that soothing cool fingers brushing a stubborn strand of hair off your forehead is a welcome intervention. Its an afternoon worthy of celebration, worthy of a post and here I am, drunk in it all and rambling on, grouchy no more!

Grumble, Grumble.............

Its just abominable how incredibly lazy I've become, but I suppose the laziness is just a part of my reluctance to pick up the wad of notes and attempt to beat in some international law and comparative political systems into this kicking and screaming brain of mine. And its amazing how so very important the frivolous task of cleaning out your bureau drawers (they've survived throughout the years with all the crap inside them just fine) or how very inspired you become to write that never ending novel of yours, all very much out of the blue of course.

The fact of the matter is that I am not a quitter. I feel guilty quitting, no matter how hard it is and no matter how impossible something may seem, I still keep at it, even if it is excruciatingly painful and even though I grumble all the way. That in fact, is my vice. As a result, I am studying away, cursing the very inventors of this wretched subject, cursing the institution  and in fact, cursing every Tom, Dick and Siripala responsible for this immaculate mess that I am in and still sitting down and trying to knock in some extraterrestrial knowledge into this brain of mine which seemed to have shrunk radically during the utter waste-of-time excursions of the past 4-5 months. I haven't been to a SINGLE class for the past 5 months (as a result of the said good-for-nothing occupation) and now I am expected to sit for an exam with the help of a few scribbled notes photocopied from a friend! The past 4-5 months had passed in a daze, a sort of a daydream and here I am suddenly startled with the knowledge that I have to face an exam on things that I am completely alien to. How could it POSSIBLY any more perfect!

However, the past two weeks had been God's gift to me. I read voraciously,  I wrote, rather typed like a woman possessed, I cooked and baked and reveled in the delicious baking aromas that send golden beams of homeliness radiating through a house and felt the soft gooey textures of dough as I mixed, folded and kneaded various breads which were things that I have never had had time to do (and missed doing) in a very long time. My doggies were overjoyed to pounce on me, bite and lick me all over while yelping happily as they used to and my dear, dear parents, The Darling, well, the time spent with them is definitely priced above everything else. Life is indeed beautiful if you did not have exams breathing down your neck.

Two students involved in FUTA died in a motorbike accident. Some say they were killed and there seems to be enough evidence to support that while the son of a certain minister has been declared to be qualified to hold the post of the Minister of Education post once he comes back from a one month (one week?) course in the USA. That is actually very true because any flea brained, uneducated moron is qualified to become the Education Minister of our country at the rate of which it is going. I feel lucky to have gotten out of the uni when I did. We seem to be the last batch ever to get out of a local uni, unperturbed. I am completely, utterly and blissfully politically ignorant but even those of us like me to whom this filthy game of politics is as elusive as that ephemeral rainbow at the other end of the world, the atrocities that go on in the country has become all too evident.

Thinking back on the death of the two students, its heartbreaking. Being a battered victim of that repulsive joke they call as university politics myself, we are well aware how certain political parties take advantage of the naivete of the students, specially those of who come from rural areas. They influence these poor students to rebel, picket and to harass innocent students in that abominable practice referred to as the rag who will in turn brainwash the coming generations the same way that they have been treated. Not that university administration is in anyway helpful. Over the years, we came to realize that walled up within those air conditioned offices of the university were the hell's very best in flesh, screeching banshees who will willingly tear out your intestines and bloodthirsty demons who will rip out your throat if a poor meek student dare ask a question. Its a vicious circle nevertheless. However, those who don't convert to the ridiculous system carried out within the majority student circle (which usually consists of terrifying newcomers to death, picking fights with other student groups, etc) will be harassed for the rest of their miserable university lives and be forced to live amongst various insults and torture,  burning a pint or two of blood daily, exchanging burning words and twisting frowns with the fooled and delusional on a daily basis. Young minds are infinitely malleable and these filthy rotten scoundrels of politics know it very well. While these innocent creatures trapped within a colourful illusion lead in the front trenches of a bloody battle, taking every single blow, ruining their future and their education, the real leaders of this chaos seated amongst plush cushions behind the scenes in comfortable rooms, claim for themselves prestigious positions and other mercenary benefits. All the students will get are sleepless nights, bruises and wounds, fatal cuts, complete and utter ruin of their education on which their parents had spent the money they never had, sorrow to their loved ones and in this case, even death.

While all this is true and right, a human life is worth much much more than all the riches that a politician can horde in his entire life time. So if anyone really is responsible for these deaths, they deserve an extremely slow, prolonged maggot infested death with their eyes searing in a cauldron of hot oil. The country is rapidly going to the dogs with its authorities sucking out its very bone marrow like soulless parasites. Its citizens are now showing their true evil and selfish inherent nature me thinks, induced by the extreme conditions that they are put through each day in their lives. Sri Lanka is a beautiful country which does not deserve this abuse. It is a land with whole shiploads of potential which once upon a time was chockful of helpful, genuine people, a species that seem to be extinct these days. Smiles are rare in this country now while frowns and painful grimaces are in plenty, muddying the streets and sullying the souls of those who pass by. And thus the tragedy ensues .......

Is it just me or has the world suddenly turned hostile?

Been wondering what's been happening to the country lately. Grandfathers are raping their granddaughters, sons are murdering their own families, women are setting live dogs on fire not to mention the blatant atrocities of politicians who either think that the people are too stupid to notice or they no longer care whether anyone notices or not, because they are so sure of the absolute power they possess. And then they go and gloat about it on media too at which you gasp and say "The nerve!." But that is about ALL that we ever do!

In other countries, such people are put in straight jackets and locked up in asylums or branded as psychopaths, sociopaths, lunatics or just plain delusional. Here in our island haven, they end up in comfy seats across the Diyawanna or sailing upwards, murdering a helpless few along the corporate ladder while perching comfortably on the top and crapping on whoever that has the misfortune to land underneath. While success is all very well and much commended on, why become such obvious A holes in the process is my problem. 

The country seems to me of late, a gnawing ball of tight and painful blackness of which the intensity grows each day. I am beginning to wonder whether it is the fact that our country is too small that we feel it more or if indeed the people have become so unspeakably evil over the years. Just a couple of years ago, lending a helping hand to a total stranger or getting help from a complete stranger while out in public is a completely normal thing while now, you feel extremely grateful just because someone held the door open for you. The normal thing now would be that someone slams a door shut in your face while your arms are full of goods with no way of opening the door. A visit to a public place would affirm the fact that the people are always angry or are always in a bad mood and is in constant competition with one another, whether it is in the supermarket queue or casually browsing through books in a bookstore. Walking down the streets alone has become a chore what with vehicles trying to run over the pedestrians and other smaller vehicles on the way. Or you see a driver or two poking their heads out and dispensing quite generous amounts of explicit words all around.  

Is it because our tropical climate heats up the blood too much that everybody is constantly in a perpetual sweltering flurry? Is it because that the prevailing economic and social conditions have forced the people to become so selfish and hard-hearted that the nuances of humanity has long since been washed off them? Is it that people have finally stopped fighting the inherent selfishness and savagery of the human being (as stated by  Thomas Hobbes the negative dude) and decide to be their true selves? Is the end near, can the Mayans be right when they predicted the end of the world or is a zombie apocalypse on the rise except the zombies will be human beings themselves when they end up eating their own? Or is it simply because I think wayyyyyy too much than I should? 

SCATTERED- Available at stores now :)

So the launch happened and it went quite well too. Just as I expected: perfectly serene ambiance, good music, good company and mellow lighting. Perfect.

Now people keep on asking, why Barefoot? Why go endorse in the typical 'Colombian', sarong-wearing, mantra-chanting, wanna-be artsy hippie culture? Yes I'm aware of the many labels and tags that the place comes with but I have never been one to care for such labels or tags. As long as it falls within my budget range and is convenient for me, I'm cool with that. I don't have big ideologies, I'm flexible and I make do with whatever I have whenever I have it. I've discovered that it is much easier to survive when that is the case.

And Barefoot was MORE than just convenient for me. The staff was very friendly and cooperative and the ambiance was just what I wanted. The pricing fell well within my budget range too. So I had no complaints. I'm a simple kid :)

Anyways, the response to the books have been quite tremendous. Those who have read the book have commented copiously on the content and I am very, very happy about the fact that the collection has managed to reach out to many in a very personal way and that is exactly what I had wanted too. Absolutely touched with what people have to say about the collection. To place the cherry on top of the cake, just today I was informed that all the books that I had left at the Barefoot bookshop, the only place where the books had been available at the very beginning had been sold out and that they need a new stock. Needless to say I was astonished. Must give them a refill tomorrow.

Writing a book is easy, publishing is quite hard, a launch is harder and when all is said, written, designed and done it seems that selling the books is the hardest of all. Bookshops are avoiding poetry collections like the plague and I can't understand why. However, the Barefoot bookshop turned out to be the only ones who embraced the books without a fuss while the rest had to be convinced and cajoled into it. As a result of my sheer perseverance, Scattered will be available in all leading bookshop within the coming week.

Dropped off some copies at Vijitha Yapa as well and it should be available within a few days at their outlets. Copies are already available at the Sadeepa Bookshop, Wisdom bookshop and at Sooriya Bookshop, Maradana. Have to make a personal appearance at Sarasavi to get some books in there as well. The only thing lacking is the time :(

However, Scattered will definitely be available at the International Book Fair starting on the 18th, so you can get it there as well, of course at the Sooriya Bookshop, Vijitha Yapa and Sarasavi outlets. Hopefully, you'l find it there :)

So yes, read my humble collection and please let me know what you think. Your comments would mean the world to me. If you cannot reach any of these shops, please mail me at jayani.senanayake@hotmail.com and I will only be happy to get a copy across to you!

Murphy's Law phenomena

Murphy's law is such that when you are late, even something as innocent and unsuspecting as a measly piece of curried chicken can charge at you, ruining your entire day. Happened this morning when a very unassuming and a very dead looking piece of chicken that was on my breakfast plate suddenly flew at me in a vengeful fury (obviously not very pleased at the mishandling it was getting as I hurriedly fumbled through the plate) and attacked me, making me bleed curry all over my crisp white shirt. Funny how much damage such a tiny piece of chicken can do. This incident forced me to change into another piece of garb and this time, I made sure I stayed WELL away from chicken or other such dangerous things.

When you know you are late and rush out of the house half-dressed, almost out of your wits that your transport has arrived (the driver is quite short in patience. If you're not there, he's gone), it takes its own sweet time, not giving a rat's tick's a** to the fact that you have rushed out in a demonic flurry, not even bothering to take a second look at yourself in the mirror just to make sure that you don't petrify little children and scar their young and tender minds for life on your way to work. While you stand waiting, total strangers pass by stare at a flustered, disheveled looking you with hair that beats the angry wig of Rumpelstiltskin single handedly (or should I say, single hair-dly) and you really start wondering whether the planets have plotted together and lined up for the sole noble cause of embarrassing you. How lovely....

And finally when you get home to collapse on the bed in the comfort of your own cosy room after a loooooooong day at work, there is a pile of fine dust waiting for you in there, stuff that the person who had been polishing the windows for the last two days had left behind. Perfect... What is more perfect is that you are allergic to dust! (and that's also about the only thing in this whole wide world that you are allergic to too) So you run out of the room sneezing up a lurid storm while your skin breaks out in nasty hives, only to return later on dressed like an astronaut at war with acid-spitting Martians to clean things up. By this time you are boiling at the highest point that a human being can possibly boil at because everyone knows very well of your near-fatal allergy to fine dust but no one had bothered to clean things up before you got home. Sigh......perfect ending to a perfect day wouldn't you say!

But these I suppose, are the everyday woes of the ordinary working woman. And me being an ordinary working woman with an extraordinary talent for getting into embarrassing situations, have more than the usual share of everyday woes I suppose. But overall, life is good. Feeling more than the usual amount of tired what with the book launch coming up and what not, but after this Sunday, everything is going to go back to normal. 

The launch is on the 09th, the coming Sunday at 5.30 PM at the Barefoot Garden Cafe if anyone's interested. Me never having been very fond of speaking, particularly about myself out in the public have always preferred to listen rather than speak is wondering whether this is the right time to freak out. Well, like I said, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do! And I am off to do justice to this long awaited collection that finally saw the light. Wish me luck! 

Scattered - A launching on 09.09

So.....the book is out and the Lady is impatient for feedback. But the launch is yet to come. 09th September is the date, 5.30 pm is the time and Barefoot Garden Cafe is the place. Those of who are interested in what I've got to say are most definitely welcome. But please do RSVP at the link below :)

https://www.facebook.com/events/461770107196727/

A little jittery about the launch actually, being the not-so-social and sometimes, prefer-the-solitude kind of person that I am. Oh well, I suppose a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

It will be a small gathering of people who are genuinely interested in poetry and literature in general. It will not be one of those mass scale, flashy things that leaves you wondering what the heck its all about. At least, I want to keep it like that. Because that's what my poems are about. They are intimate, they are personal and they are very much close to home. And I would simply not forgive myself for a launch that is any different.

Speaking about the book, I would like to view this book as a collection of memories. Little snippets of memory actually, little ends of memory threads along which I can travel, once I caught an end. Every poem has a story of its own and a very intimate significance which makes it extremely special to me. However, I do not know how special it will be to others who will be reading my work, but then again, fingers crossed, you will like this debut collection :)

A little fun fact about the book. It starts on the page 9 and ends in page 99. And its launched on the 09.09 (not planned, I swear. Circumstances led to it). A strange but wonderful coincidence! Specially since my lucky number just happens to be 9 too!

There will be music for sure as I am quite the music buff and also because I wouldn't want to bore anyone out of their minds with only my boring voice droning on and on. So yes, it will just be myself reading out some pieces from the book and some wonderful tunes. And I have given Mrs Vijita Fernando to read my book and she will be commenting on that as well. I'm just waiting to hear what she has to say about it :S

So all this will be happening on the 9th September. If you can spare a Sunday evening, do drop by. And buy my book!! :D

Dreams do come true :)

Yeeeeeeeey!!! Its finally IN PRINT!!! The hard part is done, now we wait!

My poetry collection, the long awaited one is finally coming out. Woke up one morning and made a decision to take matters in to my own hands and publish it by myself. Well, the publisher of course is Sooriya Publishers who was very helpful, very gracious in an age when all other publishers out there seem to have lost their faith in the poet kind. Point is, I did it, something that I never thought I would do and something that I had absolutely no idea how to do. You learn by doing they say. And I learnt, a whole truck load.

I learnt that there will be plenty of lip service but never enough work. I learnt that there will be people who will readily give you bucket loads of false hopes and just leave you in the lurch waiting for something to happen when in reality, you would just be wasting your time. I learnt that while many may claim to be your friends, friends in reality are very few. I learnt that unless I move my butt and get things moving, nobody else will move it for me (things I mean, not my butt). I learnt that nothing comes easy, that I will have to work hard to achieve anything worth the while. I learnt not to rely on others and not to trust too much. I also learnt that I should not delay anything in life no matter what and no matter how many promises are made.

I also learnt that I have got an awesome, AWESOME, awesome family and a boyfriend who will accompany me to hell and back. I also learnt that I've got awesome friends! I love you guys sooooo much!

The lovely ladies of the EWC, specially Mrs Vijita Fernando was there for me at the very beginning. I really wouldn't have known which end was up if it was not for her. Mrs Sybil Wettasinghe was being her usual darling self and was as excited as I was about my book! It was one nerve wracking ride but hey, I am now well versed in the fine art of publishing, which is pretty great.

Hoping to have the launch on the 8th September at Barefoot. Not because I am posh like that, but because out of all the places I checked, Barefoot proves to be very co-operative, affordable and the staff is super-duper helpful which is pretty awesome. Do drop by if you have the time, there will be plenty of poetry and music to go around.Will post when the time is confirmed as first I will have to get the books in hand which is due in two more days. Can't wait!

Tired, bed awaits. Novel also coming together nicely, but tonight it shall have to wait. I shall catch up on my long suffering sleep tonight instead of tap-tapping away. Nightey night everyone! Happy Friday tomorrow!

Poking & Publishing pains

Fallen victim to one of those 'poking' fits that go around FB from time to time. I feel like a corpse that people have poked time and time again to see if I was alive. It feels.....oddly disgusting.

Once upon a time the 'Poke' function on FB used to be fun. Those golden days of Poke, you 'poked' your friends from time to time, just to let them know that you have not forgotten them.  You "poked" people that you have met somewhere and would like to get to know better but didn't quite know how to approach them. You 'poked' people as a means of expressing friendship, to see how they would accept it, to save oneself from the humiliation of rejection, as a means of preserving one's pride or dignity even. The Poke button had a delightfully innocent function those days. Or is it that the Poke button had always had a dirty, flirty connotation and I, in my blissful oblivion had been blissfully oblivious to its slightly disturbing function until up to now?

Whatever the case may be, how gross is it that complete strangers, ones you have never even seen or have heard of in your entire life come and 'poke' you, and repeatedly so, on FB? Let's say that one poke, just to test the water, is perfectly ok, but noooooooooooooo, they don't stop at just one, they will do it, again and again and again, specially when after you have removed their poke and thus knowing full well that you have absolutely no intention of responding to them, ever. What happened to the good ol' ways of sending a message or a friend request if you REALLY wanted to get to know someone? I find Poking offensive and repulsive, when done by complete strangers that is.

If one goes around poking random people in real life, they will only be answered by one or several thundering slaps or a blazing kick to where it really hurts. And I SWEAR to God if I get poked again and repeatedly so, I shall seek the culprit out and poke both his eyes out. And I'm DEAD serious.

Speaking of FB, that dreaded Timeline is going to be applied to each and every profile from 7th August onward. However much I hate the thing, decided to embrace change and converted the profile. Now I find the thing highly messy. It hurts my eyes to figure out which is which. Honestly, I don't think that I will be signing in to FB all that much now. It annoys me.

Publishing. Its hard work. One may wonder, what's the big deal. But what I have figured out is, what I will be putting out is my most vulnerable self, the innermost me and I will then let myself be judged by people who know nothing of me nor care about what I've got to say. Some wise person had once said that writing is like being naked in public. Well, lets just say that I really enjoy being naked all for myself. Getting second thoughts about being publicly naked now, despite the practical publishing difficulties of running against a deadline and all. I am beginning to look at books, lying around forgotten in bookshelves in stores with a new found veneration now. The amount of work that had gone into them, overcoming personal boundaries to get it published, not to mention the brain numbing procedures, legalities, its all too much. Of course, some had gotten it easy. Others like us, well, we have to work our bones off for it.

The worst of it all - having to to do it all by yourself. The lack of proper editors for poetry, the blatant disregard for it in this country, no "professional" publishing help - my publisher asks me why I chose poetry and assures me that I'm better off publishing a scholarship guide because that's the shit that sells. I know I should have gotten shocked by this kind of speech but honestly, it just brushes my ear and falls to the ground - I guess I'm used to this kind of negativity by now. I've been tricked, stolen from, given false promises to and left high and dry all of which contributed to delaying this endeavor. If they thought that they dissuaded me from this, they have another thought coming.  

I did not choose poetry - poetry chose me. And here's me, a lone girl with little to no help from anyone else trying to make this thing happen. With little over 1 month to go, I am content with how far I've come, despite the many things that have held me back.

I am well aware that I am jumping into the deep end of the pool without really knowing how to swim. Here's me hoping that instincts would kick in and I wouldn't be floating belly up in the pool at the end of it all.

Poya day, and a well deserved holiday. I just think that every week there should be a holiday in the middle of each week. Its very refreshing. Gonna make the best use of the day and get myself organized a bit. In saying so, I hear my inner self rolling on the floor laughing. And guffaws ensue. Alright, off to work and silence the inner guffaws! :)