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.