The Struggling Optimist (TSO) : My Personal Blog

Hello World! Bubye World! New blog!

2009-11-24T18:51:00.003+11:00

I have moved!

Come and have a look at my new blog on Tumblr.
http://tso.tumblr.com
OR
http://www.ashitasaluja.com redirects there too.

All my old posts from thestrugglingoptimist.blogspot.com were out to check out the new neighbourhood but returned home safely last night, guided by the TumblWire. They are starting school tomorrow, and have already made friends with Facebook and Twitter, who have promised to do the BFF thing and show matching status updates.

Our old friend RSS has also moved with us. From http://thestrugglingoptimist.blogspot.com/rss to http://tso.tumblr.com/rss

Also next door is FeedMyInbox - you can meet them at their fav hangout - your inbox - by entering YOUR email address in the right bar of the new blog. Upstairs lives Stephen Fry (ok that part was lies).

Welcome to the housewarming, my lovelies. Much love.

Trainspotting

2009-11-08T13:15:00.008+11:00

Being a self-confessed IT geek who spends my day not knowing what the weather is like outside of my "nature inside" cactus themed cubicle (you can go on annual leave and itll still be alive when you get back). Still, I always know when the footy season has arrived. Its when I get on the train back home, wanting desperately to just listen to that new song I donwloaded last night on repeat so I can memorize the lyrics and hum it at work. But no, I land into a Charlie's Wonderland of chocolate brown and butterscotch gold, cocoa black and raspberry red. Except there ain't enough Golden Tickets in the world to elevate me out of here.

I also know when Spring has arrived. Its when every 16 year old lithe little lass around me saunters into the train in Carrie Bradshaw hair accessories and LadyGaga. And if I accidently see the 29th world tennis player get on the 70 that commutes between the MCG and the CBD, that's when the Australian Open is on.

There is something to be said about Melbourne's public transport system. Its alive, like a college goer's always in use and hence never cleaned car. You know its Saturday when there's puke in

it, you know its Christmas when there are grandparents and grandchildren lining it. You know Remembrance Day is near when red shredded cloth petals start to find its way between seats.

Every leftover from the weekend visit to the folks packed into chinese takeaway boxes, every all-important IKEA bookcase nut and bolt (or actually only the bolt, you never lose your nuts, er, the nuts) destined into a bachelor pad, every schoolgirl gum wrapper, ribbon and favourite earring has felt its hard blue-gray floor.

When I was very little, a gargutan rattling trainwreck of a hulking machine they called a 3-tonner used to pick us up for school. This thing was like a giant MiniMovers truck, except it was

canvas topped (a luxury convertible moving truck?) with a pig like large snout engine. Inside, there were 10 inch wooden slats on all 4 sides at hip level, but that was it. Rest of it was tough iron and frayed cloth. The prime privilege of the bullies was getting the seats at the head of the thing, where it met the driver's cabin. Because there was a tiny sliver between the canvas and the metal where you could poke your 8 year old head out and feel the wind gushing against your hair (you could always pick these boys form their teepee hair in the classroom later, as i suspect they did not they care for Toni & Guy stone hard grip gels). To me, the lowest in this social pyramid (this despite my surprisingly high fountain ponytail and lazy right eye), my face against the scalding hot grill at the entrance, this was the worst way to begin and end a schoolday.

But Metlink Melbourne makes my day. I love its whimsical idiosyncracies, from that one non-working vending machine in Richmond (for the past 2 years) to the. Hell I'll even admit the instant unity when you and one other person is stuck at 10pm on a platform where the only hourly train has just been cancelled.

And then there's that sense of comraderie and survivor's guilt as you sit snug in your warm little seat, the tram has just closed it doors and you can see a bloke running down the street, tie in

hand, jacket flapping, towards it. Instantly your eyes go to the traffic lights. Yellow. Come on you can make it. A little more, just a little...and then, Green. He stops inches from the door as it pulls away, his hand outstretched, tie starting to drag on the road a little. Your heart goes out to him. He didn't make it. It was destined to be this way. And as he becomes but a dot in the distance, you sigh, exchange sympathetic funereal looks at the death of a common friend with the fellow traveller in front of you, and you both get back to your books.

Then there's Connextor's Panic. The panic in the eyes of the couple carrying 5 bags of groceries attempting to get out first because they've just seen the connecting bus pull in on the street

next to the station. They run out, breakfast juice sloshing in its 5 litre cannister, thongs slapping against the cement, "excuse me, thanks" being chanted unconsciously, more times than the strangers they bump into.

Lastly, there's the student specials. A whole new breed of specialty that caters to the uni crowd. There's Fastest Finger First, that one landmark that means you're about to pull into your stop in 5 seconds. Just enough time to press the buzzer, but will the quizmaster comply to your last minute appeal? Probably not, and you will there will be penalties. Dirty looks are the least of them, one level higher is the sudden jerking of the bus that propels your being 3 metres to the head of the bus and your stomach into believeing its on the moon. The worst of course, is the mini lecture. Usually from the older drivers, they elucidate the advantages of not sleeping on the bus and "being ready for your stop".

My personal favourite is TheDeflatingBalloon. What happens is this. You get on the appointed bus, tram or train. Its sardines-in-a-tin tight. Its noisy, its smelly, your $20 Cotton On skinny jeans are knocking against someone else's CottonOn $20 skinny jeans. at this point it is unclear from the shape of the butt if its a boy or a girl, so you're not sure if you're supposed to be happy or disgusted. And then it comes. The Mecca. The Deakin, Monash or Melbourne. And suddenly, like the day after Cats vs Saints, its all over. Swarm after swarm of slingbags and trackies emerge from the bus. The balloon has deflated, that-tha-tha-that's all folks, the fat lady has sung etc etc. And you are sitting there in silence on your own, a little stunned. The sad part, of course, is that you get the Deflating Station is always just one stop short of yours.

And finally there's love. Among the winners are UnwarrantedRelationShipAdviceFromTheIdiotYouAccidentlySatNextTo (aka URAFIYA, also known as TheCabbieSyndrome in the taxi catching circles), WeirdoWhoSmilesCreepily, and finally, TheOne. The One is that one person on your bus, tram or train who you see everyday, who by some Providence always takes the a seat somewhere in hearing range, and you know every coat in her wardrobe, and courtesy the miracle of the mobile phone, also know where their friend with benefits, their parents, their boyfriend and their old cat they had to give away lives. More than I know about my closest cousin, actually. Of course there are times you want to sit with them because OMG, the problem she is having with her office affair is totally what you had 2 months ago and no she was so right about how she handled the sausage incident and what is a prtty girl like her doing in a bus like that and why hasn't she walked out yet, but you must refrain from smiling knowingly incase you transform into WeirdoWhoSmilesCreepily, or trying to talk here lest you become a URAFIYA. And lets face it, how many URAFIYAS actually turn into serious relationships, huh?

J is for Julie

2009-11-06T02:48:00.004+11:00

An article a day. Will post to blog, facebook and twitter. Part of a plan to write 365 articles in a year. Of those at least 10 will be good enough for a J-school portfolio right? Right? Right. Must also revamp blog layout. Too gloomy.

The name's Unknown, Really Unknown (aka a Movie Review of Layer Cake 2004)

2009-11-04T18:37:00.001+11:00

It is an irony of life that the best things come terribly packaged. Nutritious food, good advice, babies. The 2004 British drug mafia thriller, Layer Cake, is no different. Now, mind you, 2004 was when Daniel Craig wasn’t the ‘quantum’ star he is now, British films were at best obscurely cult-ish (case in point : Trainspotting) and Tokyo Drift style music hadn’t made it big. Yet, this small budget movie took the, er, cake, for its exceptional execution.

Based on debutante novelist JJ Connelly's book of the same name (he also wrote the screenplay), it stars Daniel Craig as a quiet now-you-see-him-now-you-don't 29-year-old drug middleman who has made it big. Now, he wants to do a quick disappearing act with enough retirement money before his 30th birthday, never to return to the scenes of the crime. Except things are getting a bit disorganized on the British organized drug scene. When boss asks Craig to do him a favour and locate a fellow drug lord's wayward daughter, his plan is quickly postponed. His search goes awry as the missing chic's dad decides Craig is the bad guy. Enter stage right - pompous wannabe drug guru who steals a pot load of A class ecstasy meant for ethic wars by Serbians. And now, the Serbs (represented by a Sauron voiced bloke who goes by the name Dragon) want Craig. So, yada yada, plot thickens, blah blah blah, and at the end there is a heavy duty speech about life being a layer cake. The title, also spelt L4YER CAK3 - simply to up the obscurity quotient I suspect, is hence explained, although its a bit too obvious for this otherwise symbolically subtle movie.

And then you have your standard organized crime movie fare – Ramsay’s favourite word liberally sprinkled, a delicious dollop of PYT in the form of Sienna Miller gyrating to Kylie and undressing to Gimme Shelter and of course lotsa chases in empty warehouses on seriously snazzy wheels.

But the beauty of this 90 minute Craig feast isn't in the plot, as racy as it is. It's in the narration, first hand by Craig whose name remains unspoken and unknown throughout the movie. Its in the broad spectrum view of the multimillion drug industry, its role in modern politics and lifestyles and in the absolutely fantastic background score. And the acting is surprisingly flawless.

Unfortunately, it drags a tad midway, it overdoes Daniel Craig charging into banquets, hotels, bedrooms suited and booted (suits me just fine but the boys get cranky) and there are a couple of very obvious flaws in the editing. No matter, it wraps up gorgeously, in plot and direction, the closing scene dramatic and replete with the strains of Joe Cocker’s Misunderstood.

The reason why I called this movie badly packaged is that it's sold all wrong. Have a peek at the official web site and posters. It isn't meant to be commercial, and it isn't meant to be a thriller. Its meant to be a quiet movie you watch at the end of a long day, preceded by even longer days, when silent ennui is creeping up on you and when you want to be smacked by the irony and desperation of the times we live in. A movie you then suggest to others and smugly discuss among those who have not seen it.

Every cult movie buff worth his had better get their torrent right now.

You'll like this if you like : Daniel Craig, Trainspotting, Memento, Donnie Darko, Pulp Fiction, Scarface, Phone Booth, Godfather, Payback, movies that play around with life and death philosophies.

You won't like this if you don't like : Any of the above, not so clean scripts, nil comedy movies.

Author's Note : This is actually a review I wrote for http://trq-movingpictures.blogspot.com/ - a blog started by me and some friends that, unfortunately never quite took off. This is just a place to keep it because I know I will forget the original blog link very very soon!

What do I do?

2009-10-24T12:26:00.002+11:00

Do I sing? God, no.

Do I dance? Somewhat, yes. I love dancing. I love music. Never can stop. Never.

Do I read? Hell, yes.

Do I write? I used to write well, but the need, the effect, the ebb has left my mind's sanctuary for so long. My diary is alien to me. Most words from my blog break water beside shell scripts on numbered lines in a technical word editor.

I have spent the last couple on months just being. Surviving. Milestones have been reached for sure. New job (old workplace), new apartment, new love and hopefully by my next birthday, a new car. Time as usual has sprung its spring cleaning on me out of season - old friends walked out, some stepped out never to return, others I found were sitting in my living room all along. Its been rough. Unfortunately I suspect I have become a little more materialistic. I've felt myself grow older from within, but thankfully free-er in thought, a trade off I can certainly live with. Gone are the rules that subconsciously led me through guilt. The litmus test will me old friends seeing me after a year in December when I go home. Its a trip that will refocus my life somehow. I know it.

Stolen moments by the river

2009-10-24T12:14:00.002+11:00

Quietly sitting by the river, she wondered if she should go over to his place. What was the point? Another few months, then back again. Meaningless. This was not how she was supposed to feel. She was 30, God damn it. She was supposed to feel alive. She had enough money to do all the things she wanted to when she was 20. Too see the world, to bungee jump in New Zealand, wine taste in Napa. Alternating between insecurity and over-confidence since she left college, she knew she had had a life to be proud of. She had achieved so much. But those dreams that she fought were, where were they? The money had meant nothing - yet she had taken up law purely for the money. Her one true love was dancing, but that, even she, especially she, knew was impractical to pursue. So she was content with advance classes, the occasional non-professional Dance Festival win. Moonlighting her true dreams, knowing that most creativity never did become a day job.

Darren had called her cynical. He would get frustrated when she would vent about how much she hated the politics of law, yet she would continue to play her part - being the cold, icy civil real estate champion of the Chicago courtroom. steadily moving up, yet crying herself to sleep so many times. He didn't understand. She wasn't cynical, merely had this shadow of morose realism that told her the world didn't work that that. You couldn't expect to achieve doing what you wanted. That sense of grounded shadows had been part of her since childhood. It made her oddly quiet, intimidatingly mature for her age, even as a little girl. Why didn't she simply give it all up, he would ask her? After Sara was born, she wanted to. She thought maybe she had let the facade go on too long. she could never admit she didn't want the child. Still, 2 years later, when Sara died, it left her grieving and guilty. Did she will God into taking away what she didn't feel belonged to her world?

Now with the charcoal blazer that blurred her Latino figure thrown to the grass beside her, her soft lilac work shirt hugging her figure, and her body slumped over her knees, chin betwen knees, she aimlessly watched a kingfisher swoop down and pluck a tiny fish out of the water. She sighed. Dear God. She was so..bored. What was wrong with her? She had no ambition. The last time she felt alive was when....when?

A young boy zoomed by on the bridge above on a bicycle, non-chalant hair refusing to stay where it should. She could hear the music from his player, "..When everything feels like the movies, Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive..."

Pop culture trying to tell her it would all be alright.

Music. Music could still make her feel alive. Always had.

She breathed in deep. She could taste the acrid pungent humid smell of perennially wet dark soil mixed with the fresh lush grass. She ran her fingers through her hair just rough enough to feel it on her scalp, closing her eyes and breathing out.

The sun had almost set. She looked at her watch. Enough play. Time to go home. With a purposeful gesture, she lifted her coat and straightened her skirt, walked back to the car and started the engine.

Time to go home.

Happyness

2009-10-24T12:10:00.002+11:00

Before someone thinks I'm going into depression, these are words written over 6 months at various points. I am sane and healthy, please don't ask 911 to track my IP address yet.

Spare moments are hard to come by

You eclipse my life so completely

I don't feel alone even when I am

I'm so sick of my own thoughts

Losing my centre

Unable to sleep, too wired up

I can't seem to get away from myself

I can't seem to really like myself

I can't seem to separate my sense of self

From you

From my life

From all the people in it

From all these expectations

And all these restrictions

From the people in the past

God knows its self imposed

Living the dream?

Sure doesn't feel like it

Sometimes when I feel happy

I wonder if this is what happy felt like

Because I forget who I used to be

And how happy used to feel back then

They tell me im a different girl

Quieter, wiser, with a sadness in her eyes

They tell me melancholy runs through my veins now

Yet i could never be sad around you.

I forget what I was like

Maybe I never knew myself at all

Just reflections of how people saw me

Is that why the mirror you hold scares me?

Time is not linear to me

It feels like I've filled a lifetime in a year

Like I'll never have enough to do it all

And then the emptier days

When it feels like I'm wasting my life

And all the things I could never process

Unravels in my head with mind numbing speed

I'm driving down the road

Just beginning to make sense of it all

Time races ahead of me

She turns around and laughs at me

Free, resplendent,

God how I wish I could be that free.

Haunted Roads

2009-10-24T11:58:00.002+11:00

ive walked these streets so many times

here, by this vending machine, i sheltered myself in a storm

rusted its walls with my tears, begged you to hold on

there, the exact spot on the carpeting

where i called you to tell you it was over

who really knows who is meant to be together

who knows what was meant to be

im sure we would still break it anyhow

i walked home on this one with a dear friend

every weekday for four years

laughing and giggling our schoolgirl jokes

she is far from me now, a sadder girl

but i remember the light of youth in her eyes

and the joy of innocence in her laugh

i ran on that one the day we fought mum

do you remember when i bought you roses?

thinking that like the children's classic on my bedside

all would be forgiven with carnations wrapped in tape

these streets they've witnessed so many lives

so many phone conversations and grocery store trips

so much love an hate and living and dying

enmeshed in the tar and the fading white lines

i walk away from this house, worse for the wear

all i know is i dont have peace

and its not you i miss

its how innocent i was about love

how easily i could give in without regret

i promised myself regret would never be part of me

yet here it is, again

threatening my dry eyes with every song

threatening every part of my present and future

i will never be the same

everyone who has touched me has changed me

would i go so far as you did

i know i never loved you less

it was just time, honey

it was time

Back from the dead

2009-10-24T11:56:00.003+11:00

I got told last night - for the third time in a month - that I really need to update my blog. So first let me publish all the bits and pieces lying around .txt's labelled unfinished1, unfinished2, vague5 you get the idea. And then, some news.

my sharona

2009-06-21T00:04:00.003+10:00

where you going, city lass

i love your kate hill bag

did you tell your boyfriend you love him today?

did you tell your mommy dearest you hate her today?

i've been watching you, honey

you can't be older than 21

can i watch you get off the train again

part your lips and put your shades on?

hot stuff, you strut it like you've seen it all

but baby doll i know what you crave

i know you've rocked every club this side of the river

but did you ever spend a night

alone in your bed when it was over?

your eyes look up and away when i meet them

you feel trapped when you're in the same room as him

you fix his mistakes before anyone can see them

leave baby i know you can do better than this

there's a soft mist hanging over the skyline

and you pull your fur coat tighter

lily allen on your iphone, does it make you sad sometimes

that you can't tell anyone you are the smartest girl in the room?

that you're ashamed because you let it slip through?

i've been watching you, honey

you can't be older than 21

can i watch you get off the train again

part your lips and put your shades on?

the strength in her eyes betray

what the bling on her boots disguise

it makes me never want to let her fade

the ink on her journal shows more

than the job that she holds ever could

it makes me want to help her run away

don't wait my morning sunshine

don't fade not yet, for me

don't stay, don't hide

don't stray, just run

now.

Keeping the faith

2009-05-12T22:43:00.002+10:00

Good things are happening. People who deserve chances are getting them. More than one friend is getting a internship/job they are so right for/degree/bloke/girl/selection in a student conference/a chance to go for an all expenses 1 week trip to Sydney (the last two are my sweeet lil sister) that they so deserve. I am also grateful that my grandfather finally passed away. He was on and off life support for almost 5 months.

As for me, several people who I had written off from my lives for fear of one sidedness are returning with a happy but confusing intensity - especially those born under water signs.

As for me, I join a new workplace this Friday (or next Monday). After a month and a half of:

- learning Reiki,

- finally lining my drawers with fresh paper and spring cleaning the closet

- re arranging my room after what seemed like a year,

- spending hours on a Rubik's cube (still haven't cracked it),

- watching an entire season of (a) Angel (b) How I met your Mother (c) Rita Rocks in a day each

- developing a business website for one friend,

- developing a personal website for another friend

- developing an advertising campaign including images and banners and online presence samples and a website as part of one friend's college assignment for his post grad degree in Marketing - so much fun, his sample client was BMW! We did a whole The 7 Ultimate Driving Sins for the Ultimate Driving Machine theme,

- pseudo fake dates (both of us knew nothing could ever actually happen - it was very random, but as a result, I did get to watch some movies I ordinarily wouldn't have gone for and have a lovely debate on pro-life and pro-euthanasia, so it was worth it)

- learning DreamWeaver and PhotoShop and the awesomess of Macs (my new year gift to myself in 2010, if I can stay off the daily $3 I waste on coffee everyday and make dinner at home every night)

- read all the piled up Time and PC Authority issues on my bedside table

- actually enjoying cooking without thinking how much time the stupid onions are taking to be "translucently golden brown",

- getting a photograph with Xena at a costume party

- learning how to write a contract by Australian Law

- thinking of 3 separate novel ideas which someday I shall try

- going to watch bands I've never met, then pubhopping and spending till dawn with them (I felt like a groupie for a night - NOT in that way!)

- picking out the guitar I will buy in July (Ashton classical nylon string, in a dark brown and a hard case so I can do the junk sticker thing without ruining the actual guitar)

- talking to my favouritest Aunt for hours after months!,

- undergoing a strange personal grooming ritual that I'd rather not talk about

- finally finishing that crappy SCJP book (I still don't have the guts to take the exam)

The only stress was deciding what I was going to do next, and I was alternating between an MBA and this job when I realised I really wasn't ready to go back to school - at least not to business school. Right now I want to work. I want to push myself, see what I'm capable of. Maybe in another 5 years I'll go back to school. Maybe not at all. Maybe to journalism school instead. I don't know. And for once, I'm fine with not having the answers.

So after 45 days of waking up at noon, lolling around the house in PJs and reading books by the heater, I finally am going to don a business suit again as of Friday (or Monday). Then its going to be 14 hour workdays, no time for self apart from evening runs when I can pack them in, Saturday mornings spent in front of a gorgeous iMac *sigh* in a class full of graphic designers who can give me an inferiority complex with their color schemes alone, Saturday evenings being my (hopefully) sole social saviour, Sunday mornings maybe sleeping in, remnant of weekend spent catching up on housework, returning calls untakeable during the week, loads of calls to India, paying bills, bankwork and grocery shopping.

And you know what? I can't wait to get back to the grind so I can bitch about it. :)

Pop Quiz: What's wrong with this pizza?

2009-05-07T17:15:00.003+10:00

I have a feeling the delivery guy fell over his moped while delivering this. Or he was really really hungry.

Lesson of the day : Never pay the pizza guy till you have checked the contents of the boxes.

Prince Charming 2010 AD

2009-05-02T20:27:00.005+10:00

be my diary on nights at nameless beaches
my friend on days in sleepy trains
be my partner in crime when i flirt for a free coffee
and i will never allow you to want for anyone else

i would never invade your heart
never step in till you allowed me to
i would be the ice to all you keep within
the cool touch to your sweat laden skin
if you keep me aglow when the world wears me out
forcing me into cynical detachment

come up behind me on a rainy day
hold me tight in a soft knit oversized sweater
when the water lashes across the windows
we'll drive into the country with the roof down

i will hold you down till you can breathe free
i will keep you safe when you need shelter from yourself
can you give yourself up to me, without giving up what you are?
can you continue to want me but never desperately need me?
will you walk away the moment desperation overtakes desire?

be my lover when i'm in leather
be my prince when i'm in silk
be the only one who can make me feel better
when my head's over the sink

i'll be your protectress honey
in the privacy of our home
i'll be your seductress darling
when you need to be shown
just how much of a man you'll always be
and how much of a woman you have made me

don't speak too much, i don't care for small talk
don't ask to be impressed with the wry humor of a forced iconoclast
can we be together for hours just reading and working?
yet will you tell me that you hate stray wisps in a hairbrush?
will you let me cherish the knowledge of your favorite tea?

would you let me go to new york for a year of reinvention?
would you remember to send only dark chocolate on valentine's?
would you understand that i need to look away from you sometimes?
would you trust that i would never look elsewhere?
would you realize that you should give yourself that privilege too?

stay close enough so i know you can suffocate me
stay far enough that i can breathe
either way i will run from you
because i will never lose myself to you.
not before you lose yourself to me.

Edit:
Trigger Point : the more i understand, the less i know.

We, the people. Ya, right.

2009-04-25T17:54:00.003+10:00

New rule for posts - each post begins with trigger point. No, this does not serve a purpose except negating the need for me to explain somewhere in the first few paragraphs what I was doing when this came about. Plus it allows for linkbacks, links I might've looked up between the postling's little seed in my head and its actual publish(posting? publishing? publishment? does publish have a noun form? publication! of course! shame on me!).
*************************************************************************************
TRIGGER POINT : TIME's investigative report on the US military presence in Afghanistan

Easily the scariest part of this story was the series of suicides amongst the recruitment regiments of the US army. Men and women in their mid 20s, returned from Iraq and Afghanistan and dunked into the supposed "soft" arms for some recovery are given hard sales KPIs of 2 recruits per month. The brutal emotional and verbal abuse resulting from failing these targets, combined with their already ravaged psyches still fresh with vermilion blood upon ragged rocks, means they crack within months of their new roles.

I sometimes wonder what cause frontline defense personnel work towards. I have the greatest respect for their work in a situation like Afghanistan where they attempt to overthrow the Taliban by befriending the locals, but somewhere the line between patriotism and a false sense of heroism is blurred. On the morning of the hangover, it leaves you with the metallic taste of ferrous in the mouth and the echoes of gunpowder followed by the slightly panicked shouts from the scuttling attackers, whose tongues speak alien languages and who look like they should be in primary school. You aren't really sure what you're fighting. You aren't really sure how this relates to keeping your second cousin going to her 40 floor office in her BMW safe from another 9/11.

And then you come back and look for more infants to send off to the great finishing school. To harden them, they say.

I can't help but doubt that what Charlie Wilson's War depicted was in fact fractional to the reality - how inflated budgets feed new political dreams, inspire dreams of inherited power and ultimately as ANC's (hopefully quick) downfall in South Africa will show, even Mendela's legacy can barely even last his lifetime. Politics and Militia cannot stay separate. Yet, sadly, its a poisonous mixture. With big money at stake.

And maybe, maybe, I begin to understand why my father wanted to leave the Indian Army. Any military organisation as you go higher up, is plagues by political activism, corrupt middlemen, seekers of grants for personal research gains that are enmeshed with ethical disputes and third parties who will bribe you so they can have in on the big plan.

The irony? The tagline the US army is using is "Are you Army Strong?" I guess they weren't.

The greatest revolutionaries make the worst democrats. Indeed. Wartime heroes feel anti-climactic in an environment that is focussed on making the peace a happier peace rather than a war a war that goes over the edge so that it is finally won. They struggle to create power struggles where none need exist.

The counterpoint of course is that Zardari is a democrat, and hardly a good one at that. What Pakistan desperately needs a revolutionary.

PS: I'm pretty excited about the next TIME cover story - "100 days" (of Obama-ship). Its already online (click here for article and here for photoessay), but I think I'll wait for it to get to my post box in hard copy. I'm itching to have a reason to condemn the mass iconisation of this man. I took it hard when I saw a Che Guevara style nine panel multichrome stencil portrait grafitti'ed on a Melbourne alleyway. (Suddenly realize should have taken a picture - the artwork was spectacular).

The millionth epiphany

2009-04-12T15:41:00.003+10:00

Did anyone notice that the best times of your life, the most satisfying days are when you're the busiest? The best games of golf are the ones earned after months and weekends of hectic no-time-to-blink activity? Or that the happiest people are those who drive themselves endlessly against the clock, filling each day with as much as they can? Maybe that's why college is the best time of one's life. We don't care if its a weekday, weekend, holiday or exam time, we make the most of every single day, every moment, be it in a library or in a dorm room. We understand that every one of those moments is contributing to what we are becoming. We understand that college isn't about finding yourself, but creating yourself. Life is pretty damn similar. The ones who truly live don't go around with a chip on their shoulder, believing life "owes" them for the fantastic amounts they give to people and projects they are involved with. The most self confident people are the ones who have been there and done it, as scared as you or me, but still standing, still doing. The ones who appreciate every weekday rather than begrudge it as their payoff to earn a good weekend.

If that isn't proof of karma, I don't know what is. To work without want or need of reward, surely, is to understand that there are greater forces at work that will ensure that as long as you do what you have to, what you need will come to you. What you need, mind, not what you want, or what you think you deserve.

Overhyped reaches a new hygh

2009-04-06T14:10:00.006+10:00

My latest discovery at Borders. The book also contains Abraham Lincoln's inaugral address and the Gettysburg address. I applaud the journey till here but enough with the iconisation - he's barely proved himself as President yet.

We are the Champions

2009-04-06T10:51:00.003+10:00

Not related to the title as much as you'd think, just got a kick out of using a Queen song.

Just took the (yes, I'm pretty damn free) - and results were freaky. While most arbitary quizzes reveal a side of your persoality, this picked it up completely.

Here's the result - I am a Champion personality type, known in psychology as ENFP(Extraverted iNtuitive Feeling Perceiving).

It gets worse (or better, depending on how you see it):

Based on this quiz the careers I am most suited to, in descending order, confirm my own self knowledge and whispers from well wishers for almost 4 years now:

Journalist/Reporter

Psychology

Counseling

Social Work

Education

Damn it - and I thought I might get away with my identity crisis, attributing it to a "quarted mid life crisis".

A quick ENFP roundabout for those interested in analyzing if its true for me (in bold are the lines that I especially related to), others can go to the quiz directly on HumanMetrics to get their own personality type assessed - click here.

Like the other Idealists, Champions are rather rare, say two or three percent of the population, but even more than the others they consider intense emotional experiences as being vital to a full life. Champions have a wide range and variety of emotions, and a great passion for novelty. They see life as an exciting drama, pregnant with possibilities for both good and evil, and they want to experience all the meaningful events and fascinating people in the world. The most outgoing of the Idealists, Champions often can't wait to tell others of their extraordinary experiences. Champions can be tireless in talking with others, like fountains that bubble and splash, spilling over their own words to get it all out. And usually this is not simple storytelling; Champions often speak (or write) in the hope of revealing some truth about human experience, or of motivating others with their powerful convictions. Their strong drive to speak out on issues and events, along with their boundless enthusiasm and natural talent with language, makes them the most vivacious and inspiring of all the types.

Fiercely individualistic, Champions strive toward a kind of personal authenticity, and this intention always to be themselves is usually quite attractive to others. At the same time, Champions have outstanding intuitive powers and can tell what is going on inside of others, reading hidden emotions and giving special significance to words or actions. In fact, Champions are constantly scanning the social environment, and no intriguing character or silent motive is likely to escape their attention. Far more than the other Idealists, Champions are keen and probing observers of the people around them, and are capable of intense concentration on another individual. Their attention is rarely passive or casual. On the contrary, Champions tend to be extra sensitive and alert, always ready for emergencies, always on the lookout for what's possible.

Champions are good with people and usually have a wide range of personal relationships. They are warm and full of energy with their friends. They are likable and at ease with colleagues, and handle their employees or students with great skill. They are good in public and on the telephone, and are so spontaneous and dramatic that others love to be in their company. Champions are positive, exuberant people, and often their confidence in the goodness of life and of human nature makes good things happen.

ENFPs are friendly folks. Most are really enjoyable people. Some of the most soft-hearted people are ENFPs.

ENFPs have what some call a "silly switch." They can be intellectual, serious, all business for a while, but whenever they get the chance, they flip that switch and become CAPTAIN WILDCHILD, the scourge of the swimming pool, ticklers par excellence. Sometimes they may even appear intoxicated when the "switch" is flipped.

One study has shown that ENFPs are significantly overrepresented in psychodrama. Most have a natural propensity for role-playing and acting.

ENFPs like to tell funny stories, especially about their friends. This penchant may be why many are attracted to journalism. I kid one of my ENFP friends that if I want the sixth fleet to know something, I'll just tell him.

ENFPs are global learners. Close enough is satisfactory to the ENFP, which may unnerve more precise thinking types, especially with such things as piano practice ("three quarter notes or four ... what's the difference?") Amazingly, some ENFPs are adept at exacting disciplines such as mathematics.

Friends are what life is about to ENFPs, moreso even than the other NFs. They hold up their end of the relationship, sometimes being victimized by less caring individuals. ENFPs are energized by being around people. Some have real difficulty being alone , especially on a regular basis.

One ENFP colleague, a social worker, had such tremendous interpersonal skills that she put her interviewers at ease during her own job interview. She had the ability to make strangers feel like old friends.

ENFPs sometimes can be blindsided by their secondary Feeling function. Hasty decisions based on deeply felt values may boil over with unpredictable results. More than one ENFP has abruptly quit a job in such a moment.

General: ENFPs are both "idea"-people and "people"-people, who see everyone and everything as part of an often bizarre cosmic whole. They want to both help (at least, their own definition of "help") and be liked and admired by other people, on bo th an individual and a humanitarian level. They are interested in new ideas on principle, but ultimately discard most of them for one reason or another.

Social/Personal Relationships: ENFPs have a great deal of zany charm, which can ingratiate them to the more stodgy types in spite of their unconventionality. They are outgoing, fun, and genuinely like people. As SOs/mates they are warm, affectionate (lots of PDA), and disconcertingly spontaneous. However, attention span in relationships can be short; ENFPs are easily intrigued and distracted by new friends and acquaintances, forgetting about the older ones for long stretches at a time. Less mature ENFPs may need to feel they are the center of attention all the time, to reassure them that everyone thinks they're a wonderful and fascinating person.

ENFPs often have strong, if unconvential, convictions on various issues related to their Cosmic View. They usually try to use their social skills and contacts to persuade people gently of the rightness of these views; his sometimes results in their negle cting their nearest and dearest while flitting around trying to save the world.

Work Environment: ENFPs are pleasant, easygoing, and usually fun to work with. They come up with great ideas, and are a major asset in brainstorming sessions. Followthrough tends to be a problem, however; they tend to get bored quickly, especially if a newer, more interesting project comes along. They also tend to be procrastinators, both about meeting hard deadlines and about performing any small, uninteresting tasks that they've been assigned. ENFPs are at their most useful when working in a group with a J or two to take up the slack.

ENFPs hate bureaucracy, both in principle and in practice; they will always make a point of launching one of their crusades against some aspect of it.

Love Life of ENFP Women:

Arianna is a perfect Idealist Champion (ENFP). She has always found that men are attracted to her. She has had quite a few serious romances and does not believe in flings. As soon as she realizes that they are both attracted to each other, Arianna has whole-heartedly thrown herself into the relationship, later discovering that they aren't suited to each other at all. Then she forced herself to slow down and take time to get to know the other person. This often leads to heartbreak when the man is either overwhelmed or unable to return the full passion felt by her. Men have a a steadying influence on these women, forcing them to look deeper into themselves than they usually do.

Twilight held 'Host'age

2009-04-04T16:54:00.002+11:00

No this is not a rave or rant about Twilight mania that has overtaken tweens world over. There was a follow up book - The Host - by the same author. It was gifted to me, and I didn't mind Twilight too much, so I read through all 500+ pages.

And I was very disappointed. The woman has the same theme - one set of survivors (~vampires) and another set of people who outnumber them on the planet (~humans) and how they try to keep their secret. Only in this case, its the earth which has been invaded by these tiny silver sliverish creatures called 'souls' that are 'inserted' into a human host, causing the host's memories to become their own but causing the host's own conscience to eventually die as the soul takes control of the body. As if that sci-fi cliche wasn't enough, far in a very Independence-Day-esque desert there is a cache of survivor humans.

It gets worse. Melanie (~Bella) a former human who is now a host to the soul Wanderer refuses to die. The soul is hanted by her presence as they both jostle for control of the body. Melanie starts winning out, driving Wanderer to the place where the cache is, to check if the love of Melanie's life and her baby brother are alive. Once they reach the cache, she is captive as they don't believe Melanie exists within her. And of course, the above mentioned love, Jared, is conflicted about seeing Melanie - who he was sure was dead - alive but not quite, herself.

Worse still, another human, Ian falls in love with Wanderer - not Melanie. So Jared and Ian are in love with 2 separate people in the same body. Which leads to some form of humour (saving grace) when Melanie/Wanderer have physical trysts with Jared/Ian, with one of the 2 women in the body always getting grossed out by the desires of the other.

But honestly, Stephanie (no, no, don't get confused, that's the author's name), what the hell? Twilight was dumbed down vampire fiction for girls. What are you even targeting with this book? Its too juvenile for adults, too romantic for boys and too sci-fi for girls and too boring for people like me. At best, it would make a passsable movie, if you brought some grown men to the scriptwriting sessions.

Priorities

2009-04-03T16:10:00.002+11:00

For me, for the first time, I do not have something to centre my life around. And I have no idea what to do.

When we're kids there's nothing.

Then for 12 years its school.

Then there's college.

Then there's work. Or for some, sports. Or for others marriage. Or kids.

Something takes centre stage in your life. And all other things revolve around it. For brief periods of time it becomes an ailing relative, or a particular person, or a course you are doing parallel to your normal routine, or your kids.

And without realising it, that it the number one priority in your life. Its not even your decision. Think about the thing in your life that takes up most of your time. Not head space, time. And I am sorry folks but that is your number one priority. Because everything else in your life, even if its more important will be fitted around it, like little pebbles slipping through the edges of a jar that has been occupied by a giant rock. You will try to fit in work between footy practice and your Friday night beer. Or you will try and see if you have time after work to maybe go and meet up with friends. Which one is it? Which one comes first by default? Is it a choice, or did it happen without you realising it, pushing what you want to be the topmost priority into the background? When did the immediate needs, the urgent deeds, take precedence over the important but can-wait ones? Because they'll wait forever. And with time, fade away, leaving you with memories of what you once were, like dreams the morning after, the feeling is familiar but the vivid colours and storyline eludes you.

Sometimes, those pebbles get bigger. They try to push through. But by then the rock is, well, rock solid. It won't move. And the conflict continues...

Anthropology meets Geography

2009-03-29T13:29:00.004+11:00

In a world that is increasingly global, I am often pleasantly surprised at how easily I get along with people who, literally, are oceans away. Yet, I might often not get along with people who have grown up around much of the same culture and events that I did. However, every country seems to have these stereotypes within their nation which they guard themselves from. For instance, I might not think twice before talking about my latest tat to an Aussie colleague, but I would rather die before my conservative Indian best friend found out.

Within the nation, geography and coasts threaten to form virulently opposing teams. Case in point: I have friends who have settled on the east and west coast of the US. And even though America isn't even their native country (they are naturalised citizens/work visa holders), 5 years down the line, I can literally see the fake California tan or the uber sophisticate New Yorker accent through the phone lines. Both have their pluses - a particulary uptight friend has become a fan of wearing hippie skirts and joined chacha classes in SF. A Berkeley cousin has had her ambitious edge softened. A t-shirt and sometimes unwashed tracks wearing school friendwho is now in finance in NY turned up in a sports jacket, polo shirt and khakis when we last caught up over coffee. Another hopeless romantic has turned into a ball crushing career driven type since moving to Philly.

And don't even get me started on South India vs North India.

But it runs deeper.

Some of these cultures are born of a city. To a point where even if you are from North India, Delhi-ites are a completely different breed. Sydney and Melbourne are as compatible as chalk and cheese. It seems we are increasingly becoming a product of our city rather than our nationality, language or even parentage. This is not so true of country folk. If you're from Sweden, damn it, you're Swedish. If you're from France, it would matter if you came from wine county or from Paris.

While on the topic, one thing about West Coasters bothers me. All of the very tiny sum people of 7 that I know from California have this aggravating trait - they appear super friendly, but they aren't. You think you're in, but you're not. They take their career damn seriously, but they'll pretend like it isn't a big part of their lives. East Coasters - you get what you see. When they're working, they'll tell you to sod off. But if they had to cancel on a plan, they'll call you on the weekend and make sure you spend some time together. If you're in you're in, hook, line and sinker. If you're out, they won't even bother talking to you.

West Coasters can forget you in a heartbeat. But they'll never let you know. Its considered rude.

That's my $0.02. Hopefully, no west coasters are reading this. :)

The dust is finally settling

2009-03-29T11:50:00.004+11:00

So, obviously, my brain is not capable of subscribing to normal human reaction. Which is why my last day at a job was an occasion for it to rejoice - every night with a different set of people for 7 straight days - and this after working from 8am to 9pm for 3 of those nights because I wanted to finish my work myself rather than hand it over (honestly, I can be such a child - I have no idea what I was proving to whom). I didn't hate the job - far from it. My only complaint was the long hours. Yet I happily, ecstatically bounced, skipped even, out of work at noon on the last day, fulfilled with the improbable completion of my madly ambitious self created work.

I may not have a problem with all this - but others did. The range of reactions when I told people I was leaving:

- "What? Why? Are you going back to India?"

- "Oh, are [insert rival/client/vendor company here] hiring you? I knew they would." (hey brainiac, would I tell you even if they were. and aren't they laying off too?)

- "Let me guess - you're getting married *smug grin*" (????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

- "Cool. So when's the farewell party?"

- "But you'll still come to office to meet us right?" (duh, what now?)

- "Oh, that's horrible. Did you want to talk about it over coffee - I'm free now. Or how about tomorrow?" (this from a person I barely know and have never met outside of the office walls)

- "Hey, can I take your desktop then? Mine's so slow...."

I was thoroughly amused by the way it panned out. It was very dramatic. Professional confidentiality disallows a more detailed description, but I think it kills the person who has to tell you you're being let you go more than you. You almost feel bad for the guy.

Anyway, come Friday night, I was recovering from 7 days of non stop work and play at a friend's house over a very smoky green apple hookah which mixed with cigarette smoke and alcohol earlier on left us with a very strangely alien high. Next day, I came home, shopped, cooked a fancy lunch, cleaned, applied first coat of varnish on a pending carpentry project and went to sleep at 10pm.

I have given myself a deadline of 2 months - for what? Not sure. What's the ultimatum at the end of 2 months? Nothing. Its just 2 months of a jobhunt and rediscovering what it means to have time to think. I still don't know what it is I'm supposed to think about.

I wish I had this awful feeling its all going to hit me and I'll plummet head first into an abyss of self pity. My parents are now desperate to see an iota of emotion. But it won't happen. Its not denial. It simply wasn't that important to me. I have this feeling this was meant to happen - it's supposed to force me out of something. What? God knows. My worldly faculties fail to grasp how losing your job is a good thing in the middle of a recession.

What is wrong with me?

Errata

2009-03-03T07:42:00.001+11:00

Apologies for the three spam ridden posts. They appeared via my Mail2Blogger email id, a feature which I have now disabled. Many thanks to Onkar for pointing it out.

DANGER ZONE

2009-02-15T14:32:00.001+11:00

Someone told me long ago that to err is not only human, its the essence of being human. When you stop making mistakes, you've stopped taking risks. When you've stopped taking risks, you've stopped living. Not to say we should stumble from one black hole to another, but the advocacy appeals.

Now the point is how to get out of them. It sort of spirals into things, and once that spiral down begins you begin to loosen your grip on sanity. And then suddenly the obsessiveness that once made you eccentric is now your reason to live, its overtaken you with a force you never had even for the true ambitions of your life. Evil wins faster than good? Damn right it does. Its simpler isn't it. Just move along. Flow.

Obsessiveness, or passion is the river that flows between the land of insanity and eccentricity, between red hot drive to achieve and an ideal that you are better off letting go of. And it takes tears to keep that river from drying up, to stay on the right side.

are we there yet?

2009-02-15T14:28:00.001+11:00

Synthetic happiness. Soon after an email from a friend to Dr Gilbert cc'ed its way into my inbox, I was hooked. Trudged through the website, and simultaneously had Champagne Supernova playing in the background. Suffice to say, the mood was mellow enough to ponder over life, the universe and everything.

A relatively strong anti-absolutist (a word?) and an absolute believer in 'everything is relative', this guy had it bang on the money.

Premise 1: Its all in your head. Nothing is real. In Milton;s words, the mind can make a heaven of hell; or a hell of heaven.

Premise 2: If you can manage your emotions as a third person, you can manipulate them any which way you need.

For your thinking pleasure, ladies and gentlemen:

Corollary A: Is negative feeling also synthetic? All placebo? Then what's the fuss about The Giver's Sameness? Cut down on the correct oxytoxins and we should be tuned into good old humanoids. Never have a bad thought in our lives.

Corollary B: What about feeling under transition? When feeling changes towards the same subject, object or human, is that also synthetic. Do we want to feel hate, sudden ingatuation or a deep intrigue in a new subject simply because it arrived at the right time.

Corollary C: When we are confused (also known as heart vs head, religion vs instinct, free will vs social conditioning etc etc), is that what our 'emotion manager' is telling us vs what we are feeling? But synthetic happiness assumes the 'what we are feeling' doesn't exist...also, if only an emotion manager exists, why does he need to manage something? That in itself would assume something exists to 'manage', right?

Changing my plans

2009-02-04T12:02:00.003+11:00

This age thing has me bothered. I'm feeling a bit trapped in it. And its running out much much faster than I thought. Financially, I need goals. But given my current living situation, my money isn't going to be mine to spend for a couple of years. Professionally, I have goals. Not exact ones, but I know what'll help me get there. I need 2 more years of college. But a current slump in my market means I'm forced to look within a career path that doesn't interest me because there isn't a way to switch or study right now.

What do I really want to achieve by the time I'm 30? How many of the goals I had by the time I reached 25 - be financially independent, be in a career I like, where people respect me, put down a loan on a house and a car, have a hobby that is just mine. I'm not sure I'll get to them. I want to learn to dance, I want to learn the guitar, I want . And I am petrified of getting caught in mediocrity. Can you have it all? No. So I have to pick.

The time is now. It'll be too late once I meet the right guy, find the right career. Once things fall into place, there's no space for randomness. And I will never regret spending late nights for a job when I love it, or doing things for a man I love. But till then, let me do all the things I won'rt be able to do then.

So I guess the question is : What do I want i the next one year? I want to get to know myself better, free of what I'm supposed to be from the point of view of my parents, my job, my relationships, everything. My friends will never judge me so I know whatever I do, they'll stick by me..for the last 5 years, I conditioned myself as per what was going to happen in my life 5 years down the line (yes that's how sadly predicatable my life was at 19). Now, suddenly, I don;t want any of that. And now I want to know what I want to do. To put in a cliche, I want a relationship with myself. I want to know how I can survive evening after evening with just myself without being bored. I want to know how many km I can run in a day, how good I am at keeping house plants alive, how to make an amazing website that's an embodiment of everything I can be..I want to apply for jobs in New Zealand, and not be tied down by my sis. Because she's amazing, and she knows I'm there for her and I now know that as long as I'm within the same country for emergencies and local rates 2 hour long 3am calls, she will be just fine.

And the second question is : What do I want by the time I'm 30? That one I'll think about. Get back to you in a few days.

God, I feel so liberated. And it was all in own head.

20s vs 30s

2009-01-26T16:20:00.001+11:00

A simple 2 am college buddies catching up Melbourne to London conversation after 6 cigarettes (bought on impulse to accompany the 3 day weekend, 4 cuppa noodles and a 7 movie Hitchcock box set sitting on my desk) struck terror in my barely adult heart....all the people, literature, cinema I related to were in their early 30s! Explains why at 22 I was enjoying the feeling of planning out a home purchase, found no true joy in my colleagues' nights out, already longed for a familial environment that I would inhabit with a significant other and had got sloshed only twice in my entire life. Suddenly my room seemed alien to my personality - sitting in an old gray pair of pyjamas and plain blue shirt, Hitchcock DVDs, a frayed copy of Far Pavilions, Robert Frost collected works, a sober Nivea plum lip gloss and YSL eyeliner the only sign of make up, bitch wood queen bed, a classy but very boring black cellphone, sensible UV400 non-Paris Hilton white rimmed sunglasses, shades of gray, beige and brown in my work wardrobe, practical camisoles, no posters, no lava lamps, no hoopy earrings - was I really 22? I had a 3 day weekend and I chose to spend it baking a coffee cake and watching movies that were made more than half a century ago!

In sex and the city style, I ask of you, with today's metropolitan lifestyle allowing people to achieve more at younger ages, is 20 the new 30? Has the information overload matured them enough by that age to dress classic, know exactly what kind of man they want, have the turn around of 'mom-never-gets-me' to 'she's-my-best-friend' and work on "having a good relationship with themselves"?

So what then when you hit your 30's? I'm not there but the beginnings of some trends in my life. Of what I've seen these people actually have all they strove for in the 20s - at least the smart ones do. The yearning they had for a life partner got lost because of its constant unfulfillment. Instead they are soulmates with their best friends, have "office spouses", are faithfully loyal to their clients and treat every new project as a new born baby to be nourished and then watched as it takes flight. Big was right when he told Miranda, Samantha and Charlotte "You girls are the three great loves of Carrie's life - a man can only hope to come fourth." As life recently proved to me, a breakup with a best friend cuts far deeper than a man. This is something a woman learns early in life, that friendships outlast relationships. That family outlasts friendships. That a solid career is more uplifting to self esteem than a compliment for a good ravioli. And just like that, the boyfriend-girlfriend-daddy priority is reversed. For life. Jaded? Cynical? No, not really. Merely a girl, becoming a woman.

Another change : like everything else in our lives, we learn to take responsibility for our emotions; manage our emotions, if you will. A distant and almost cold ability to watch them, aware, from a distance as they appear, rather than feel them. Which allows you to filter only predetermined percentage to permeate your consciousness, which gives you a tremendous sense of control. Its good in a way - isn't that what the Vedas talk of - controlling your senses and emotions is the way towards a truer life? To not need to express everything - anger, joy..to keep in the anger towards others, to be stoic in the joy. Then why do we prosecute those who have perfected this art? Having seen people be slave to their emotions, having been slave to them myself even now more often than I'd like (recently did that - remains to be seen what the consequences will be), I think its a brilliant mandate to live by.

Think much?

2008-12-25T16:18:00.002+11:00

Ah, Christmas.

No not really. I don't care much about it, I think Santa is more focused on than the nativity scene (do you see free pics at malls with nativity scenes?) and frankly, its all getting a bit of a sham.

But still, it is a good excuse to take stock of what happened in the past year and what is still to come. By far, 2008 has been the second most roller coaster ridden year in my brief 2 decade life. I do not doubt that worse - and better - will come. But for the first time this year, I wouldn't change a thing. I didn't achieve anything mindboggling, I lost more than I even realised I had to lose, and I definitely learnt a lot about myself - not all of it too pretty (for instance, I can't hold down a long island followed by 5 barman pitcher glasses). But I found something that till now was mostly externalised - I found out what I needed to respect myself. And it has nothing to do with what others, family, friends, a job, a holiday, anything, can give me. Its to be able to untangle my dreams and what I want from what others want, or more pressingly, what others need from me. When a decision is all your own, no matter the consequences, its easier to deal with them.

And the strange thing is, the best moments of my life this year have been the result of decisions made without overthinking. Even when I knew there would be hell to pay. I value experiences more than successes. I would rather travel across Thailand with a backpack and a thousand dollars than spend two grand on a 5 day 5 star resort break. The sad part, though, is that I seem to judge people by that parameter - I see their age as a function of how much experience they have. I expect those who have had more experiences in life to be older, wiser. So not true! The same 2 people can come away from an experience with the clarity of a new born baby's eyes or the clouded vision of a cynical 80 year old. The trick is perhaps to immerse your senses in it, to feel everything in slow motion, to not rush, to let it flow. To not push, prod and have a need for a response. To express and then let it be.

Easier said than done. Humans live on expectations.

My latest rondezvous

2008-12-15T14:55:00.001+11:00

i sit here bundled in a 20 inch space
on a flight across the earth
and with each ancient river that passes below me
the eternity of the last year begins to hurt

in overwhelming depth each joy, each ache
each escaping tendril of the web i spun
replaying all the games of give and take
every texture added, every hue undone

and at the end i came to you
will time solve this one for me?
im not sure if i want your body or your soul
im not even sure what i want you to feel

i wonder if you felt my restraint
i know that i felt yours
i wonder if maybe you misunderstood
attributing it to a more blamable cause

i feel like i know you from somewhere before
and yet i thirst for more detail
i feel like there's a link im missing here
trying to catch a ship that's already set sail

will work for love

2008-11-25T23:30:00.001+11:00

So here's one of my best kept secrets : I'm obsessively astrology mad. I'm the crazy girl who categorizes people by their sunsigns, instantly putting behaviours past and present into perspective with their birthdate. And to be perfectly honest, most of the time I am spot on. Unless they have some totally square ascendant or a natal chart that is opposed to their sunsign - which not knowing their time of birth (people would think it a bit rich- even coming from me - if I went about asking them not only their birth day but also their birth time) - in which case you usually get an idea since their characteristics won't fit their sunsign.

It naturally follows that I do the same with matters of the heart - I match up compatibilities - even before things have progressed beyond a flirtation. And no, I don't draw out weird symbols and get my cauldron out of my secret underground potion room. But a vague yes, no, maybe, probably too volatile type of response does stick to my mind.

And here is my problem - I am the only sunsign who is incapable of keeping my own matters to myself. I can keep someone else' secret like nobody's business but when it comes to keeping shut about my own problem - nuhuh. Someone needs to hear it - sis, friends, mum, colleagues. Someone. Virgos will keep it till they need to. Scorpions will keep it even when they don't need to. Taureans will keep it form everyone except the bestest friends, if any. But Geminis are filterless. For people who know us this is amusing and routine. For others, we come across as either too open, overly talkative and sometimes self-obsessed. Worse, it means we trust people with our secrets before knowing anything about them or about how trustable there are.

Essentially, we werein fact born yesterday. On each day of our lives. We live by the credo that everyone is good until proven evil. Unfortunately, I've got stung badly in the past 3 months by that. A certain Taurean had a whirlwind companionship with me - for lack of a word that lies between friendship and something else. A certain Virgo would have been amazing at hiding certain feelings but unfortunately knowing the birthdate and knowing Virgos very very well, I can see through most of the masquerade. A certain Scorpio - oh this man has really got me mad. He has been randomly giving off signals, and I merely responded knowing he flirts with everyone. Then he begins to get a bit one-on-one with the flirting. Fair enough. Harmless fun, he's not married, so why not have a little innuendo with a fellow sarky (the humour was incredible). Then he abruptly stops. Okay, say I. No biggie. Forgot about it. Then, a week later references the past conversations and says he still needs to find a suitable repartee to my exit line and some other back handed compliment that now escapes my mind. Starts up stuff again. I was thinking of a suitable response when voila! I find out from a colleague that the idiot has had a girlfriend the entire time! The entire time! I mean come on. That's just leading me on. First of all, shame on him. Poor girl must have no idea. Secondly, God alone knows how many other girls he does this with. And thirdly, I am so not replying to any of his emails or suspect remarks any more. I refuse to be that girl.

Why do guys do this? And they would never take it from the girlfriend. I know for a fact that I would never do it were I "unavailable". I know that men I know also know its wrong - it went way beyond the normal day to day flirting that has come to be accepted at the workplace. I cannot believe this guy is a scorpion. It flabbergasts me. Honest to God. Why must he spoil the name of the nice, sweet men of the world who for some Godforsaken reason have been avoiding me recently and more importantly, the fantastic astrological sunsign that is the Scorpio? Idiot.

You know you're in melbourne when...

2008-10-13T23:20:00.001+11:00

1. You think its normal that the Postal system, the trams, the trains and Telstra are all privately run. Well no one's really sure who runs Telstra..maybe the Wizard of Oz.

2. You would rather move your wedding day than have it ON the day of the AFL Grand Final (Go Hawks!).

3. mX is a way of life.

4. Timtams are a separate food group.

5. Barbies aren't toys, they're a national identity.

6. You can get italian, greek, indian, thai, lebanese and continental - all on the same street.

7. Despite the fact that EVERYTHING closes at 5 freaking pm except the Crown freaking Casino (where you have to dress up anyway to get in), there are still a million people out on the streets at 1am.

8. There are more non-Aussies than Aussies in your suburb.

9. You think its normal to wear sneakers to work with the "train coat", change into heels and the actual coat, then change your entire outfit again for gym in 7 hours time, and then go home and put on a dress and your party shoes for drinks. (Add 2 more changes if you cycle to work or arrive on a motorbike in your biking gear).

10. It is normal to use an umbrella, a sun hat and a sweatshirt on the same day.

11. You can get away with wearing anything at all, in any combination.

12. You routinely pass the Indian cricket team in the city.

13. The MCG is just a building on the way to work.

14. Tattoos are as common as ear piercings.

15. Purple is just another colour to dye your hair. Ditto for lime green.

16. The cafe for your morning fix has been the same for the last 5 years.

17. You actually recognize half the people you get on the train with - coz you've been riding the train with them for years.

18. Cash? What's that? Can I use my Flybuys?

19. When the wind blows, its "fine". When it gets bearable at 25, its "getting too hot". Don't even get me started on the winters.

20. Electricity cuts happen a few times in your life.

21. Preggie women are God. Esp on connex.

22. Cable and Foxtel are a luxury.

23. You wear sunnies inside a train, inside a mall and yes, even in your backyard.

24. Macs are as common as PCs - my fav :)

25. You pay more on your internet bill than all your other bills combined. Esp if you intend to actually download a freaking movie.

26. Only foreigners order Foster's. We all know VB rocks.

Can't think of any more. Soon.

why we love men

2008-10-04T22:41:00.001+10:00

It has occured to me that if you google why men are idiots you get oodles of hits, but if you google why men are awesome you get zilch. Well, it didn't so much "occur" as I just watched Angus, Snogs and Thonging (I know I got that backward but too lazy to backspace).

One of my friends once told me she thinks we don't need men apart from for procreation and picking up heavy stuff. No fair, I think there are a lot of things awesome about men that we simply can't deny. Putting aside the *ahem* reasons, all men - friends, brothers, colleagues and even dads - have things that female counterparts simply don't. Here's my starters list:

1. The way they look so HAPPY and adorable simply lounging in front of a TV, unshaven and unkempt hair, in the most terrible looking sweatshirts and fav trackpants/shorts and the super satisfied look they give you when you enter the room and they look back for that brief second before their eyes move back to the screen.

2. The way they look at you when you're upset or crying - big saucer eyes looking as though the most precious thing in their life may be broken. No man has looked at a leaking faucet or even a laptop the same way. Motorbikes are an exception, unfortunately.

3. Frustration and aggression and ambition all merged into one at the end of a really bad day at work as they tell you how they are so much better than everyone else and they promise you they're going to prove themselves to whatshisname. And the way they tell you EVERYTHING. Just you.

4.When you want them to say all those things, they refuse with stony silence as you yell your head off to what seems like a brick wall. And then they make you melt with that one sentence they do say, even when you tell yourself you'll never melt.

5. Hugs. Giant beautiful all encompassing makes-everything-okay hugs that won't let go till you do. My dad still gives the best hugs ever.

6. That they're okay not having to blabber all the time. Especially the ones who know you for a while. Especially the ones who already know the story and what the newest twist means. They'll just shut up, sit there and munch the potato wedges with you while you look at the river. Then they'll drive you back and not ask a million follow up questions the next day.

7. That they don't over analyze like women.

8. That when you just DON'T want to talk about it, only your male mates can help you have a night out and actually forget about it.

9. The way that true love and babies change them. Even the meanest, roughest of them.

10. Their enthusiasm for your home cooked food - especially chicken - over the bestest restaurants.

11. They're awkwardness around over emotional situations, or the way they clam up and let it out to you alone, later. That sudden emotion or surprising sensitive side that comes out sometimes.

12. The fact that "having a bath" means just that. Disrobe, shower, soap, rinse, reclothe. Less than 5 minutes. Not exfoliate, pedicure, epilate, get into the mood, choose a body wash (destressing lavender or rejuvenating citrus?), have the actual shower, examine changes in body, moisturize with 5 different products for 5 different parts of the body, decide what to wear, re decide, iron it, accessorise, re arrange cosmetics on bathroom shelf and then finally, be done with it.

13. That they love being made a fuss of, especially for the injuries that aren't even there. That look they have when they're lapping up the sympathy like a puppy is common to every age and kind of man I have seen.

14. The way they can always make you feel pretty and intelligent, even when you're feeling spotty and really dumb at the end of a lousy day at work and a ladder up your stupid leggings.

15. The way they sympathize over your "girl problems". I completely overplay that card!

16. The way the special ones look at you when you're looking awesome. Or the way fathers look at you when you're looking grown up. Or the surprised way mates look at you when you actually look like a girl!

Here's to men. We have Women's day, not that I believe in it, but I think its only fair you should have a Men's day. When no one can say a word to you for not bathing, not shaving, having all the beer you want and lounging around with your mates the whole damn day. You guys deserve it.

Although, I might follow up with a why we love women section.

this is a RANT - do not read if depressed

2008-10-03T18:59:00.001+10:00

Do you ever get the feeling that the world is keeping something from you? Its in the smile of every person coming home on a Friday night, the anticipation of the weekend. Its as if everyone has something to go back to - a fun evening, a quiet evening, twin girls, maybe a catch up with old friends, a night out on the town.

I can't say I feel the same. Not this weekend anyway. I don't know what it is, but something has been eating at me all week. Its not so much something, as the specific lack of anything. Completely indifferent and working on auto pilot during the chaotic meltdown that ensued after a catastrophic server breakdown that occured at work last wednesday, I've really been trying to feel something. A sliver of raw emotion. Even panic (God knows the business guys were down that street for at least 48 hours, and were bent on dragging IT down with them!) Ambition. Excitement. Stagnation. Frustration. Something. Anything. I know who to call to have a fun weekend, to take my mind off all this for short enough a time. I thought of going for a movie by myself and browsing the bookshop's on Swan Street, large CoffeX latte in hand - my usual medicine for days when I have the blues.

Today even the weather was fantastic - drizzling at a cool 26 degrees - perfect for a movie or a walk in the city. The kind of weather which 3 years ago would make me walk out of a library a day before practicals. But no one appealed. Not even me alone appealed. No one who was good enough to share it with. I know, I'm being picky. I was waiting for something to shake me out of my reverie. Today, everyone tells me about their plans. I play victim. Tickets sold out. But you have a car and I don't. I don't have anyone to go with. My sister has exams (I never even asked her). I don't know. I'm just...upset. And I want to be.

What am I waiting on? A person? Oh cmon, don't tell me, am I that desperate already? At 22? No, it can't be that. An event? Something life changing? I could change my life right now. If I decided to pick up a pen and paper and do something about my dreams I don't doubt I'd reach there within 3 years. But I've always had that option haven't I? Maybe I'll regret it once I don't. Once I'm too old. Or something.

Then what is it you want to do darling which you can't, which is driving you so indifferent to all the stuff that's going for you? Maybe I could drive if I had a car. Just drive and drive and drive. With nice music. Going nowhere? But I don't have a car. Plan B. I want to sit in bed and read a stupid book about the Taliban and Mahesh Bhatt (Temptations of the West, Pankaj Mishra) and I want to be miserable. And for no reason at all. Best of all, I want a reason. I think its unfair that I don't have a reason. I could claim stress, emotional trauma, physical overwork, anything. They would all be valid reasons if someone had seen my life for the past 2 weeks. But its not any of these. Because I'm indifferent to everything people, circumstance and life is telling me. Because, frankly, my dear, I couldn't give a damn.

Someone please entertain me. I need some life injected into my existence. I'm actually going to die of boredom. I really really will. My mental faculties will shut down. My emotional faculties already have.

human economy

2008-10-01T23:47:00.001+10:00

As the world focuses on whispers of the return of 1929 and tries to see the world through the rose tinted glasses of Sarah Palin (and by the way shame on you Zardari - hasn't it been less than a year since Benazir - who if nothing else, was considered the intelligentsia's pinup girl - and you're trying to act fresh with a to-be VP in front of the world's cameras? I mean , really! Pack it in for a while will you?), the harsher stories hide in smaller fonts, their words lost in the folds of the morning paper.

Here in Melbourne, there is a strikingly higher respect for human life - these people talk of 5 pedestrians killed per year due to road rage as a "statistic". Five! A single digit! Every house robbery makes the morning news. Every rape has follow ups for at least a week. And this is not for lack of political news - the freedom of expression that society has ensures plenty of sensational media statements and rebellion.

With comparison to the 12 fatal muggings per month in Atlanta (one occurred last month just 200 metres from where a friend lives) and the 200 that die at the hands of a lathi charge in India, these Aussie local "tragedies" are merely a source of amusement to me over my morning cup of tea.

The most recent case that has captured the city's attention for almost weeks now is the search for missing 21 year old Melbournian Britt Lapthorne, who was last seen during her backpacking world tour at a Croatian nightclub. The parents - who have set their house on mortgage to get the 20,000 euros promised to any informant who helps locate her - claim Facebook has given them more leads than the Interpol, that the Croatian and Australian diplomats have made this a red tape show more than a woman hunt. Meanwhile, the public is having masses at the city's churches to pray for her - candles, singing et al.

Maybe I'm in a cynical mood, and the shadow of Liam Neelson's worst fears in Taken (which I will NEVER allow my father to watch, by the way!) is haunting me. But if I assume the worst, and the fact that all her luggage and money lies untouched in her hostel proves it, she is probably being sold off to a potbellied Sheikh somewhere as part of their monthly trafficking auction. And while the world prays for her to be alive, I think all this attention might just mean that even if she is alive, she will be more trouble than use, and it might be enough incentive for her "owners" to do away with her.

So are the millions of girls who aren't written about, who stay alive on heroin as their captives milk them of all youth and dignity, actually better off?

The world sucks sometimes doesn't it.

yay!

2008-09-07T19:42:00.001+10:00

That's it. I'm done being negative and critical and cynical and all the in between. Seriously. The troughs and crests and all of life's a sine wave stuff. All true. I'm out of the ditch and on the mountain people. Here me scream, "Life is good."

are you kidding me??

2008-09-07T16:17:00.001+10:00

Universe : What part of let go of men for a while don't you get, young lady?

Me : Huh..oooh look at that one, he's so sweet. Aw and he just gave that kid a toffee...

Universe : Ahem, excuse me, hi universe here. You gonna let go or what?

Me : Why should I? They haven't.

Universe : Its a test. You have to pass it and be ok with just enjoying life on your own. Not give in just to fill the gap.

Me : Oh come on that's not fair. You give me 5 fantastic years and then you say forget it. Its not that easy.

Universe : No, I'm saying if you stop thinking so much it'll happen on its own.

Me : Not good enough. I'm too devoted to something that I want. Look how hard I worked to make the last one make it so far. I will go and find it. There are so many idiots who seem to be in nice normal relationships. And I'm sorry but I know I'm smarter than most of those chicks.

Universe : And yet the cosmos does not allow you to complete any story you've been trying to push towards a happy ending. You'll end up find the mistaken treasure if you start searching for something that isn't ready for you yet.

Me : Oh don't get mysterious and new era spiritual on me, mister. I believed your astrology and destiny and meant to be nonsense and look where that got me. For once, I am taking matters into my own hands.

Universe : You can't take someone else's emotions into your hands. It won't work.

Me : Watch me.

Universe : Fine. I really need to leave anyway, Sarah Palin is planning to give that baby up for adoption.

Me : Whoa wait wait don't go. Um, so if I do actually ask you what I should do, will you tell me?

Universe : Nope.

Me : Huh?

Universe : If I told you everything for sure, where's the mystery?

Me : Oh God, please. You have got to be kidding me. Seriously, don't you like report to God or something. There must be laws. I'll file a complaint. You can't traipse in here and not give me straight answers. Is he ok with all this playing around with human's emotions?

Universe : You think we're playing. We're trying to explain to you that you have to surrender to the higher power and just let it be.

Me : Look can you stop with the subtleties already? So, what, I should get over just the concept of love?

Universe : Get over your concept of love. Listen, I'm really getting late..

Me : Ya, right. And then be all new age I love myself so much I don't need anyone...cmon. I might as well become a Sarah Jessica Parker fan. And be all if he was "into" you, he's have done something. Basically become a walking talking self help book cliche.

Universe : Sarah Jessica Parker?

Me : Yeah, blond chick, wears weird green hats with ikebana arrangements on her head to award ceremonies?

Universe : She's from an alternate universe. Not part of my jurisdiction.

Me : Hm. Figures. Hey where'd you...damn that Sarah Palin.

So I don't forget

2008-09-07T15:50:00.001+10:00

Things learnt over past few months:

I can handle more than I think I can.

That if I'm not sure if I'm doing it out of anger/infatuation/greed/envy, I'm better off waiting till I am sure why I am doing it.

That its ok not to have an answer. I can't rush my decisions just because someone else - or I - think I need an answer right now.

That there is NO excuse for yelling like an uncivilised homosapien with a cuss word spouter stuck in your mouth. No excuse.

That physical exercise, music, calm water bodies, time alone and a good loud night out can cure the blues miraculously.

That no matter how much you feel for a person, love a person, take care of every emotion, need, long to be with them in the way you dream of, no matter how much they genuinely appreciate all of this, unless they are capable of returning those emotions with the SAME intention and intensity these feelings mean NOTHING.

That the smell of fresh rain on dry earth coupled with the pitter of the first drizzle against the window pane can soothe the most troubled mind.

That sometimes when my dynamic with someone goes in a different direction than what I expected, I should stop pushing it back to what I want.

That I have a desperate need to be alone sometimes.

That I have a desperate need to be in good intelligent company sometimes.

That new born babies can pull the breath out of me. Each and every time.

That I deserve all of it. Good and bad. And no one should tell me I don't. Because the law of karma isn't in any human being's hand.

aagh, men

2008-08-30T18:00:00.001+10:00

Men are simple creatures, a new found friend once wrote to me in an email. They usually mean what they say. Do they? Do they???

So I'm pretty onto the whole how men work thing (or so I think) cause frankly I am not a fan of this whole men and women are different species etc etc. Yes, they are socially conditioned differently and yes, sometimes they have different, um, overriding motives. Women are more emotionally strong, men more physically. Women tend to give in, men tend to be aggressive. Its true, and you can't deny it. The faster you accept it, the better you accept the opposite sex, the fact that we need each other and the more chances you have of peacefully co existing with them. But apart from that, we work in the same way. As human beings, we both like being talked to, helping out, being needed, being cared for, hopefully connecting to someone. Essentially, I think that's what humans - male or female - like about other human beings who they count as being close.

Now being close in itself has levels. Which brings me to the point of this blog . Which is where all this well thought out philosophy went down the bleeding laundry chute. And it revolves around one word - "platonic".

Before I ramble. I'll let wikipedia do a little rambling on my behalf (please skip this if not etymologically inclined and skip to next paragraph):

" The term amor platonicus was coined as early as the 15th century by the Florentine scholar Marsilio Ficino as a synonym for amor socraticus. Platonic love in this original sense of the term is examined in Plato's dialogue the Symposium, which has as its topic the subject of love or Eros generally. Of particular importance there are the ideas attributed to the prophetess Diotima, which present love as a means of ascent to contemplation of the Divine. For Diotima, and for Plato generally, the most correct use of love of other human beings is to direct ones mind to love of Divinity. In short, with genuine Platonic love, the beautiful or lovely other person inspires the mind and the soul and directs ones attention to spiritual things. One proceeds from recognition on another's beauty, to appreciation of Beauty as it exists apart from any individual, to consideration of Divinity, the source of Beauty, to love of Divinity. The spiritual ideas of Platonic love -- as well as the fundamental spiritual emphasis of all of Plato's writings -- has been de-emphasised over the last two centuries.

Some modern (and ancient) writers overemphasize Socrates' affectionate feelings towards male pupils in Plato's dialogues. Actually, Plato emphasized chastity in the case of homoerotic attraction, but suggested that recognition of beauty in a person of the same sex may still serve the aim of inspiration. Indeed, in some ways homoerotic attraction may have served Plato's illustrative purposes better than heterosexual love, since in the latter case issues of procreation complicate the picture.

The English term dates back as far as Sir William Davenant's Platonic Lovers (1636). It is derived from the concept in Plato's Symposium of the love of the idea of good which lies at the root of all virtue and truth. For a brief period, Platonic love was a fashionable subject at the English royal court, especially in the circle around Queen Henrietta Maria, the wife of King Charles I. Platonic love was the theme of some of the courtly masques performed in the Caroline era—though the fashion soon waned under pressures of social and political change."

My question is not - "Can there be platonic relationships?" There are, there can. Its hard, and a pre-requisite is that one of the two are true -

1. Both members are already unavailable by choice (not looking for someone, still jaded over last relationship , already truly devoted to someone else who makes them happy

2. One of them considers the other to be "not their type" (they have higher or maybe different standards from what they look for)

3. One of them is gay.

If none of these are true, if two truly available people connect on the same level and feel that connection equally, even if its only emotionally, is it really possible to stay platonic. And I'm sorry but even if one person starts to have feelings, as unrequited or well hidden they may be (and there are people who go on like this for years), then it is not platonic. Because there is a motive other than friendship.

But how do you differentiate between genuinely feeling for that person and feeling for that person only because he/she is that close to you and just happen to belong to the opposite sex? What if you'd never feel for that person if you guys weren't that close? Is that just your mind playing social stereotypes (how can we be so close and not be...) or is that true crushing?

I would especially like to figure this out because I know that at this point in my life, I'm likely to crush a lot. As such, that knowledge itself helps to put a lid on your thoughts running away with you and to make sure your head rules your heart, at least till your heart has decided to stabilize itself. But its really a terrible game for your brain to play on you. And it really has a huge potential for disaster.

Luckily, I haven't had it play havoc with me yet. I have some fantastic male friends who mean the world to me, but who no matter how long you kept us on a marooned island, it'd never go anywhere else.

But I don't doubt my brain will play tricks the moment I decide to go out and re-start the whole being social thing which I had given up for the last 2-3 months (I am such a recluse right now I'm shocking myself).

What I'd love to know is, where does a guy draw the line? Is it that what starts as friendship must always stay there? Similarly, is it really possible for a girl who you loved to move into friend zone? And would they decide to spill their guts or just continue with the semi-dating semi-friends thing? What signals do they give out to let the girl know its changed?

(Girls hide this stuff really well till the guy gives out definitive feelers, and even then they might not do anything about it. What I'd like is a guy's perspective).

Sigh...just when I thought I had all this figured out.

tagged again - 100 things before i die

2008-08-28T20:57:00.001+10:00

If I've got this right, I'm supposed to cross what I have already done. So here goes:

 Attend at least one major sporting event: the Super Bowl, the Olympics, the U.S. Open.

 Throw a huge party and invite every one of your friends.

 Swim with a dolphin.

 Skydive.

 Have your portrait painted.

 Learn to speak a foreign language and make sure you use it.

 Go skinny-dipping at midnight in the South of France.

 Watch the launch of the space shuttle.

 ~~Spend a whole day eating junk food without feeling guilty.~~

 Be an extra in a film.

 ~~Tell someone the story of your life, sparing no details.~~

 ~~Make love on a forest floor.~~

 ~~Make love on a train.~~

 ~~Learn to rollerblade.~~

 ~~Own a room with a view.~~

 Brew your own beer.

 ~~Learn how to take a compliment.~~

 Buy a round-the-world air ticket and a rucksack, and run away.

 ~~Grow a beard and leave it for at least a month.~~ (Does not waxing or getting your eyebrows done for 2 months count if you're a girl? I think so.)

 ~~Give your mother a dozen red roses and tell her you love her.~~

 ~~Be a member of the audience in a TV show.~~ (BBC Mastermind)

 Put your name down to be a passenger on the first tourist shuttle to the moon.

 ~~Send a message in a bottle.~~

 ~~Ride a camel into the desert.~~

 ~~Get to know your neighbors.~~

 ~~Plant a tree.~~

 ~~Learn not to say yes when you really mean no.~~

 Write a fan letter to your all-time favorite hero or heroine.

 Visit the Senate and the House of Representatives to see how Congress really works.

 Learn to ballroom dance properly.

 Eat jellied eels from a stall in London.

 Be the boss.

 ~~Fall deeply in love -- helplessly and unconditionally.~~

 Ride the Trans-Siberian Express across Asia.

 Sit on a jury.

 Write the novel you know you have inside you.

 Go to Walden Pond and read Thoreau while drifting in a canoe.

 ~~Stay out all night dancing and go to work the next day without having gone home (just once).~~

 Drink beer at Oktoberfest in Munich.

 ~~Be someone's mentor.~~

 ~~Shower in a waterfall.~~

 Ask for a raise.

 Learn to play a musical instrument with some degree of skill.

 ~~Teach someone illiterate to read.~~

 Be one of the first to take a flight on the new Airbus A380.

 Spend a night in a haunted house -- by yourself.

 Write down your personal mission statement, follow it, and revise it from time to time.

 ~~See a lunar eclipse.~~

 ~~Spend New Year's in an exotic location.~~

 Get passionate about a cause and spend time helping it, instead of just thinking about it.

 Experience weightlessness.

 Sing a great song in front of an audience.

 Ask someone you've only just met to go on a date.

 Drive across America from coast to coast.

 ~~Make a complete and utter fool of yourself.~~

 ~~Own one very expensive but absolutely wonderful business suit.~~

 Write your will.

 ~~Sleep under the stars.~~

 Take a ride on the highest roller coaster in the country.

 Learn how to complain effectively -- and do it!

 Go wild in Rio during Carnival.

 ~~Spend a whole day reading a great novel.~~

 Forgive your parents.

 Learn to juggle with three balls.

 Drive the Autobahn.

 Find a job you love.

 Spend Christmas on the beach drinking pina coladas.

 Overcome your fear of failure.

 Raft through the Grand Canyon.

 ~~Donate money and put your name on something: a college scholarship, a bench in the park.~~

 Buy your own house and then spend time making it into exactly what you want.

 Grow a garden.

 Spend three months getting your body into optimum shape.

 Drive a convertible with the top down and music blaring.

 Accept yourself for who you are.

 ~~Learn to use a microphone and give a speech in public.~~

 Scuba dive off Australia's Great Barrier Reef.

 Go up in a hot-air balloon.

 Attend one really huge rock concert.

 Kiss someone you've just met on a blind date.

 ~~Be able to handle: your tax forms, Jehovah's Witnesses, your banker, telephone solicitors.~~

 ~~Give to a charity -- anonymously.~~

 Lose more money than you can afford at roulette in Vegas.

 Let someone feed you peeled, seedless grapes.

 Kiss the Blarney stone and develop the gift of gab.

 ~~Fart in a crowded space.~~

 ~~Make love on the kitchen floor.~~

 Go deep sea fishing and eat your catch.

 ~~Create your own web site.~~ (I created an ex's - does that count?)

 Visit the Holy Land.

 Make yourself spend a half-day at a concentration camp and swear never to forget.

 Run to the top of the Statue of Liberty.

 Create your Family Tree.

 Catch a ball in the stands of a major league baseball stadium.

 Make a hole-in-one.

 Ski a double-black diamond run.

 Learn to bartend.

 ~~Run a marathon.~~ (12 October 2008)

 ~~Look into your child's eyes, see yourself, and smile.~~

 Reflect on your greatest weakness, and realize how it is your greatest strength.

wishes for a good friend

2008-08-26T00:16:00.001+10:00

he's not a man
who talks too much
but you know inside
he has a lot to hide

he's not a man
to tell you straight
he'll watch from afar
and be your silent guard

he's not a man
who rushes things
its strangely nice
that he takes his time

he's the kind of man
you want around
when the world spins too fast
and nothing good seems to last

he's the kind of man
you feel calmer around
who keeps you safe
and knows when to cave.

he's the kind of man
for warm winter evenings
for simple conversations
for an uncomplicated life

but he didn't get all those things
and when he smiles, you can see it sometimes
so i pray that his dreams do come true
even if it is a little late, i hope she finds you
that girl who you've been looking for,
the house, the car, and even the boat by the shore.

for you're the kind of man
who makes the best of friends
and it would break my heart
to see you forcing your hopes to end.

you helped to keep my dreams from being torn
i sincerely hope god helps you fulfil your own.

Late goodbye.

2008-08-20T21:02:00.001+10:00

i trusted you

somewhere in the arguments

somewhere in the justifications

we both were innocent

now we're both guilty

now i can't believe you

even though i want to

now i can't believe me

even though i need to

i needed you

promises so well intentioned

diseased by self obsession

you shut me out when i called for you

and now you want to be there for me

but you have no integrity

no strength

no character

with what faith would i come to you?

started out so pure

what tainted our love

murky shadows of ifs and buts

no sentence meaning just what it is

what poisoned you into lies and deceipt

i speak to my friends

they tell me you told them all my secrets

you told them not to tell me they knew

all the ones i cried and confessed

during the moments of nothingness in each others arms

my most well kept darknesses

you told them

do you know how much i fought my inner demons?

do you know how hard it was to reveal it to you?

my innermost sins, i let you in on them

so you could see right through me

cause i wanted you to know me through and through

i wanted you to be the one person who saw me

you abused that right

and you told them

yet you told them?

so simply, so cruelly?

and you told your friends about our secrets

and your family about things that were just for you and me

you never felt anything while you said those words?

while you betrayed us?

crashed even the little that was real to the ground?

was it that easy for you to slander it all?

was it that easy for you to let go?

it wasnt that easy for me

it still isnt

but i never told them any of yours

and i never will

i never revealed your most private shames

the ones you whispered with fear of rejection in your eyes

i protected you

hell, i almost mothered you

when i was a child

mentored you

when i was still learning

made your dreams come true

while mine were crashing

i protected you for years

from yourself

from your fears

even when you had left me

cared nothing for me

even when you came back asking for my company

i soothed you even when i needed soothing

i calmed you when i was simmering

i cheered you while i was despondent

then for a minute i let my feelings through

asked you why you did this to me

still you ask me

what are you trying to make me do, break up with her?

still you tell me

i will never come back if this is how you are, is that what you want?

i cared for you

i would've given up everything

i had dreams of running to your side

being the girl who saved your life

i guess

i was foolish and young

i wanted to know you

every part of your mind, body and soul

on the plane,

so embarrassingly human

but i loved you the same

no matter how wrong

no matter how small

every childhood fragment of memory

every place close to your heart

every thought and every action

i wanted to know everything

i wanted to know you

better than yourself

even when you resisted

i dug out the parts you didnt want to deal with

helped you sort out your past

will she?

you were my partner

you were meant to dance with me

the weekdays, the weekends and the holidays

the everydays and the special days

you were meant to witness everything

everything

i would've opened up my entire heart to you

i would've opened my entire life for you

and that's not an easy thing for me to do

im not like other people that way

even though i never believed in firsts or lasts

you were meant to be my first, my last

and everything in between

you were meant to be

everything

did i not say it loud enough?

did you decide not to hear me?

did you decide not to care?

did you not understand that you were my destiny?

did you not understand the power of the ring?

di you not understand through thick and thin?

with 60 days of trauma

you erased the 5 years

and the 50 ahead

for i can never come back now

even when every muscle aches to

every thought is for you

every fantasy is, still, with you.

and if you need me to return

then change something

make me believe

that i can trust you

that i can need you

that i can care for you

that i can protect you

without being hated

for losing my strength just for a few weeks

that you will not lie to me

about the small things

the big things

and the in between

make me believe

you will not deceive me

i hadn't left yet

but i will now.

i will not be taken for a fool.

i will not be slave to my emotions.

i will choose against my will.

don't make me do that.

the last thing i want

is for you to forget about this story

and leave this song unsung

but right now

these words are caught in my throat

and they dont deserve to be

i shouldn't have to make myself desirable

you know what i am

you know who i am

you know my strengths

and my weaknesses

and you know where to find me

you left me alone in a foreign country

unloved, confused, desperate, angry

you left me without even your friendship

it was easy for you

you were with your family

there is a law of karma

you are alone in a foreign country

desperate, confused and angry

i came to you with my last remaining shred of strength

it wasn't easy for me

i am not with my family

now feel it

and tell me

was it fair to cut off my only life support

in a cold melbourne winter?

i hear winters are pretty cold there too.

(shifted from my other blog, which i am closing down. http://techsieveonline.blogspot.com still stays alive though).

Comments (Sorry can't "import" 'em):

Onkar Joshi said...

That's....well, a lot words put together very, very well.

August 5, 2008 10:39 PM

TSO said...

i didnt know anyone read this blog! i wanted a quiet place to put it up, but my desktop was too silent.

August 6, 2008 3:02 AM

Eight Things

2008-08-17T21:50:00.001+10:00

My first attempt at tagging, or actually, being a tagee.

Been tagged by the red queen, who was tagged by ZenMaster.

I tag Onkar Joshi, Postcards from Paranoia and Piyush Sharma.

Will add the hyperlinks to above blogs and to the stuff in lists below soon. Gotta rush right now.

Edit: Hyperlinks now added.

Eight things I am Passionate About -
1. Books
2. Technology
3. Freedom of expression
4. Being "alive" and being on the edge of it ever so often
5. Writing
6. Having a dream - its an active passion cause I still don't have a fixed one!
That's it actually. Wow, I' m passionless huh.

Eight Things I want to do before I die -
1. Backpack across Europe, preferably without a time frame.
2. Have a near death experience
3. Sing a completely kickass song on stage in rock and roll leather boot up style, song I'm thinking of right now is Cherry Lips by Garbage.
4. Have a good stable marriage with kids who know they're well loved (sorry I know how lame this sounds but its true!)
5. Be in a powerful position and do something useful with it - preferably in the media side of things
6. Teach
7. Get a tattoo
8. Reluctantly putting this down..have a lesbian experience, even if its just a kiss.

Eight things I say often -
1. Brilliant, That's just brilliant, How bloody brilliant and the similar.
2. Oh God or Oh for God's sake
3. Walk afraid if you must, but keep walking (I don't say it but I think it a lot)
4. Yeah, well, I'll live.
5. You don't say?
6. Well just lump it.
7. Tough luck.
8. And?

Eight Books/Blogs/Journals I Have Read Recently -

1. Stephen Fry Moab is my Washpot
2. Genesis code, some obscure person
3. Dexter - all 3
4. Dangerous Minds
5. Marie Clare mag, does it count?
6. Mr Barton's Bartender guide
7. Getting rid of Matthew
8. Londonistan

Eight Songs I Would Listen To Over and Over -
1. American Pie (Don McLean)
2. Forever young (Youth Group)
3. Mama I'm coming home (Ozzy Osbourne)
4. Don't let me be misunderstood (not the Animals original, the Layer Cake version)
5. Gimme shelter (Rolling Stones, wink to TRQ)
6. Mad world
7. Painted on my heart (from Gone in 60 seconds)
8. Still of the night (Whitesnake, oh that solo...!)

Eight Things In Others That Attract Me -
1. Sparkling conversation
2. Intelligence
3. The chemistry! Gotta be there.
4. Ambition - or any kind of worthy pursuit which doesn't involve material gains as an end result.
5. Spontaneity and a love of adventure
6. Honouring a commitment - in friendship or otherwise, through thick and thin, through special and normal days.
7. Someone who can let go and just enjoy themselves, laugh and be in the moment no matter what is going on in their lives
8. The ability to cheer me up and to know what's in my head

weeknights

2008-08-07T23:50:00.001+10:00

Cold city

Twinkling lights

Colleagues wave goodbye

As I walk out, coat in hand

I wave back

I sigh as I swipe out

Pack of girls laughing

Pass me by

Another day

Another night

Faked my way through

A quiet respite

For those few seconds

Before sleep hits

Mind finally free to think

What's its been trying to think

I kept interrupting it

Throughout the day

With irrelevant things

Like work and being nice

Then why am I surprised

When it can't give me answers?

Dreams that shouldn't come

Come

Wrong, no, don't

Wake up with a vague feeling

Of something bitter

And then again

Cell phone alarm

Another day,

Let's go.

my movie list

2008-07-20T20:19:00.001+10:00

Have just seen Mamma Mia. Was exactly what I expected. Nothing less and unfortunately, nothing more.

Am also starting (albeit quite late) on the Star Wars series (just finished movie I).

Movies I want to see soon (click on them for trailer):

1. Hancock(for Will Smith)

2. Flash of Genius (beautiful mind meets the office I presume in all american smalltown dream goodness)

3. Watchmen (From the creators of 300, a graphic novel turned into a movie - thank you NGAC)

4. Smart People (Michael Bates and the Juno girl, snappy and witty)

5. Juno (purely to see if all the hype's worth it)

6. Get Smart (slapstick mindless wind down on a friday movie)

7. The Women (one for the girls)

8. Wall-E (cute)

9. Marley and Me (have you read the book?? who can resist a cute lab who doesn't know his own strength?)

10. Married Life (pierce brosnan, satirical view of betrayal and murder in a time when divorce was still a dirty word)

11. Angus, Thongs & Perfect Snogging (extremely cute teen flick from the director of Bend it Like Beckham, follows growing pains of a genZ 14 year old girl in an english public school who must soon leave for New Zealand and leave all her friends - and crush - behind)

Men who help you keep the faith

2008-07-18T00:28:00.001+10:00

Just for fun :)

Currently the top 2 screen men, by my books at least:

Pierce Brosnan - rough childhood, struggled to get to the top, soil of the earth with the inimitable unassuming Irish charm, rarely seen wicked sense of humour, and a doting father. He's aged gracefully, and has had a stable married life. Plus of course, the James Bond legacy. Not to forget the James Bond legacy.

Hugh Laurie - the intelligent intelligent intelligent cold blue-gray eyes. Known to be able to play "any musical instrument thrown at him" , sings gorgeously, can act, screenwrite, playwrite (playwright? is that a verb?) and - did you know he's ALSO authored 2 books? Bestsellers in the drama / suspense / thriller category, both, initially flitted from publisher to publisher under a pseudonym so that he wouldn't get a contract just for his name. The second releases late 2009. He's the vocalist/keyboard player of a local London rock band with Lenny Henry called Poor White Trash (I know!), and so are his kids (of a different, younger band). He's been married to the same woman since 1989, plus he's uber private about his family life and revels in sensible (I think it is) sense of depression about everything for no reason except fatalistic.

Of course he's a Gemini !

Weird - both Brit. I'm a bit prejudiced aren't I? Hm.

But what on earth is MOAB ?

2008-07-16T21:49:00.001+10:00

Am currently reading extremely hilarious Stephen Fry pre-Oxford autobiography. My incentive to read it sadly was the knowledge that Hugh Laurie, being Small(not) Fry 's bosom lifetime mate, chum, compatriot, stage sharer, pal, S-on-R sharer of many drunken nights, confidante et al would have a generous mention.

Hugh, of course, is not likely to write an autobiography, on account of being privacy loving enough to never give out any family life fuzzy dinner scene like descriptions of Laurie household in all his so far held interviews (very surprising since lovely household, stable since inception of marriage in manner of normal and hence weirdly dysfunctional Brit family and with no rehab checked in offspring so far) and stiff upper lip land loving enough to be depressed in LA despite finding it thoroughly challenging to play gorgeous character in House (Do not mean to sound like I know him in manner of next door neighbour. I don't. I know, its a shame. That's one human instance who's brain I want to pick.).

Anyway, so I'm just wondering - what is MOAB? And why has Stephen Fry named his autobiography 'MOAB is my Washpot'?

In an unprecedented catastrophe, Google has failed me.

Oh, and I was a bit disappointed. Only one mention of House, Gregory, M.D. in Chapter 4, and a teeny tiny B&W picture of Fry and him playing chess in Cambridge dorm room (they were roomies, and they are playing in..um..coats. In the dorm room. No, really.).

Let's hope he stars significantly in coming chapters.

Post post note: (As in post script note) Have realised on completely unrelated note that there are 3 parts to love - one, chemistry, two, comfort and three, compatibility. Usually people get comfort and compatibility bang on target and mistake the resulting combination for love.

I have friends who forgot the chemistry part, mistaking friendship for love, only to realise it a one night stand later. I have even more friends who forgot all except the chemistry part. I must be the only idiot who forgot the compatibility part. Even when the person feels like your best friend and a fantastic partner - sometimes you just don't fit. Your life manuals are written in different scripts, even if they aim towards a similar goal. Leads to impedance mismatch. And sooner or later, the, er,voltage hits the fan.

Post 'post post note' note : Please ignore above post post note as more emotional crap (refer to previous 2 posts if in doubt of level of emotional crap this poster can stoop to).

HEARtBREAK CALIFORNIA II

2008-07-13T14:01:00.001+10:00

I used to be strong

They tell me I still am

Then why do I feel so shredded

Why do I feel like the wind is blowing for me

Whispering bitter secrets that curdle my blood

Salting my bruised ego, mocking my blindness

Can't believe I didn't see

Can't believe you were just like the others

Can't believe you're still telling yourself you're not

But most of all

I can't believe I still love you

That I'd still take you back

I'm the fool I used to laugh at

Its a cruel circle of life

I'm back here, where you pushed me

Four years ago

Dark, wet, ragged thoughts

Sharpening themselves against my princess dreams

Voices in my head, never heard them

I fought them off in true love's name

I weakened what made me me

I gave up what I was to be with you

Always was a perfect actress

And now when I need it the most

My river runs dry

It's too cold here for my tears to dry

The blinds are open, there's no sunshine

Summer's a far cry away

Heartbreak california

2008-07-13T13:32:00.001+10:00

You stand there

And I stand here

And how did this happen?

Weren't we forever?

I can't figure it out

So I fight

You can't figure it out

So you turn around

And walk away

I'm not a victim, I don't want to be one

And I'm not saying there was another way

Maybe you're stronger than me

But I don't have to be gracious about this

I can't.

Cause I still love you.

And that's forever.

- Inspired by events on 12 July 2008

(I also found this beautiful heartbreak song on youtube which is better than anything Norah Jones can ever hope to sing. Its called "someone you used to know", lyrics below.)

It was helpless anyway
There's nothing much we could do or say
Darling don't you think it's a shame?
That it had to end this way
So here's to say goodbye,
Our love is lost, and we cant figure why
Maybe it really is about time
That we finally made up our minds
So Darling, here's to you
I hope that when you find someone new
That she would always be true to you
To love and understand you
Soon you'll build new memories
Then slowly you'd forget about me
Then I would slowly be
A distant memory
*Soon I'll just be
that someone you used to know
But darling you will thank me
For letting you go
Time is not for wasting
I hope you'll find your intended
But I'm sorry
That your intended I'sn't me
It's not an easy thing
To shake off our history
I know that's what you want from me
But they will always stay with me
I admit I made mistakes
But darling with you it's just the same
If we stay there will be more to make
I dont know how much more we can take
Darling, it would be unfair
For you to stay with something no longer there
But it doesn't mean I no longer care
But I feel like a burden you can no longer bear

(PS I have no idea why I named the post what I did. California songs are always soothing - Californication, Hotel California, California Calling, California here I come). And right now, the mood is right. )

More on the artist @ Parliament

2008-07-09T00:19:00.001+10:00

His name is Wayne. He has a son who he can only see once a month, although now that the son has expressed a desire to see him more often, he might try to muster the courage to ask the mother to allow that. He doesn't think she'll agree, but he thinks its only fair that she thinks that way. He didn't tell me why.

And he told me today that someone who was a regular buyer and had links at a non-profit social welfare org had offered to put some of his sketches on blank greeting cards. I bought one of these cards for $3. Its a sketch of a cat - very minimalistic and very nice. He also had greeting cards with his sketches of a lab, a terrier and a beautiful autumn landscape. But I liked the cat the most. The card is white with the sketch in black in the front. It is blank inside with Wayne, Melbourne, 2008, printed on the back in simple Times New Roman font.

It is the most beautiful card ever.

I asked him what happened to the gray and black tree. He sold it. He says he will make a blue and light blue one in the next 2 weeks, provided he makes enough money to buy the paints.

This one is for the girls

2008-07-09T00:02:00.001+10:00

They say the first signs of depression are having a complete 8 hours of sleep and yet having difficulty getting out of bed from the sheer pointlessness of it all.

By the looks of it, I'm in the final stage of depression. I don't really see who is benefiting from me getting out of bed. Any bloke/blokette paid an equal amount could easily do my share of coding the project (possibly better than me and with less references to google.com for a million syntaxes which have slipped the well waxed crevices of my brain) and it wouldn't take much for the few supporting roles I fill in a couple of lives to be filled with someone new. God knows widowers remarry and long time lovers are given up with less sentimentality nowadays than evoked by a stolen ipod.

Usually, a bright book or a lively song put me back on the path to LaLa land, but lately this panacea too has given up on me.

No, I don't intend to turn into one of those shocking news stories where a girl posts her suicide intentions, is ignored and then appears in the headline stating that society is coming to naught when a distraught idiot can't get help.

I'm just really really feeling like I swallowed a lemon wedgie after a bittergourd pie. And unfortunately, I'm not the kind to down the medicine with a tequila shot. So while my red eyed Monday hung over colleagues hover on the office floor, I must find ways to distract my over active brain from the lack of true companionship. What I wouldn't do right now for a truly interesting conversation that goes well into the wee hours, over stale cheese with old friends who knew what it was like to just let go, who walked into lecture halls with severely oiled hair, without certain items of clothing, who climbed water towers and made politically incorrect statements, who believed in true love and red roses, who loved chocolate like every self respecting girl should, who cried when they read chicken soup stories, who befriended the boys I loved, and loathed the boys who were mean to me, who defended me from the world more than any man ever can, who convinced each other's parents that four 20 year old girls gallivanting around Goa would actually not be all that dangerous and who looked so 5 years old at 11pm sipping tea in a desolate roadside bus stopover as she giggled and said, "this is so cool - we're all alone in the middle of nowhere, and we're all girls!" , who struggled to make it to a girls night out despite being drenched down to our first-time-worn-high-heels after a particularly stressful set of exams, desperate to have a good time, even if we had to push our luck and our bodies' endurance to have it. I miss them. I miss us. I miss who we were. And I know we won't be the same. We've all grown old in a way.

I miss you too, you know who you are. I miss sitting by you, and feeling that sense of calm and the freezing of the million hundred miles a second thought threads in my head, I miss all our first times, I miss all the frustrations, highs, lows that come before you develop a quiet and mature stoicism of each other's weaknesses, I miss having long conversations over nothing and everything, over an uncertain future and a cherished past, I miss knowing that you'd be there when I got back, I miss being the one you called for every little thing, I miss calling you for every little thing, I miss spontaneous drives and intended brushes, I miss all the things that I can't write here, not even in my diary, because they are that beautiful, and it makes them that much less beautiful once its written down in staid words, no matter how eloquent. It'll never be the same, no matter how hard we try. We met as innocent adolescents, a wonder in itself. And now a quiet streak of ink is quietly curling its climber like way into this pure vessel of white milk. As responsibilities cause backaches and strained voices, we rapidly journey on the path to worldly success, coming of age in full splendour. With the coming of the new, the old is gone. And you are that much aware that it was old. That there is an "old" and a "new". And that in itself is a painful realization, almost cramping one's gait and pulling one back. Cliches remain the best way to say this - you can't turn back time.

I miss the old me. Yet I know that this is part of growing up, this murky inner sadness, this acceptance of the white pain that my once carefree friends are going though, this purple bruising of the eternal hope that once lived within us and the realization that no matter how hard you try, you will eventually fall into the pattern of socially accepted life timelines, the same major milestones marking your success. And someday years from now, the dreams that were as vivid in those afternoon classrooms as a red line in a 3000 line unit of code is now, will be but a fuzzy memory that evokes only feelings, but who's tangible sense of reality in lost in the folds of this quarter life crisis.

gray morning

2008-06-28T11:38:00.001+10:00

Yay! Friday morning, 8:30am. I pulled my coat tighter across my neck as I stepped out of the station onto the road. As usual, I had to catch my breath against the life extractingly strong "breeze".

And he was there! In his old place, same dirty beanie protecting him barely ever from the chilling wind. Never so delighted to see a gaunt skeletal face. Fished out my wallet pulled all the coins out of it and handed them to him.

"Hey, you're back!" I said, even though I had never spoken to him ever before.

"Aye, Ma'am, nowt much else better place to sell these," he pointed

I beamed, "Good."

My eyes fell on 3 copies of a new design, a tree painted in black water colour, with geometrically drawn leaves and trunk, and 5 gray leaves flying out of the perfectly proportioned outline in a rebellious fly away towards top right of the tree. It was gorgeous.

"This is new. It's nice."

"Aye, they're very popular those. You'll have som'awt?"

"No, thanks." I said, realising I had already handed all my change to him and it would be now a bit mean to take the card without paying for it, or asking him to give me change for a fiver. "Maybe some other time. Have a nice day!"

"You too Ma'am."

Thank you red bearded man. Its good to have you back on my walk to work every morning.

I think I might buy that card on Monday. Put it up on my desk.

Yes, I think I'll do that.

vanished

2008-06-25T22:30:00.001+10:00

As you step off the stairs that lead up from the Melbourne Parliament train station and turn left to cross the street for Lonsdale, you pass a homeless man who sits by the pillar near the big yellow postbox. He sits quietly, red bearded and sunken faced, with his few crayons and artwork and board that reads "I am homeless. Please buy my drawings."

He sits there everyday.

He wasn't there today.

I wonder where he is.

good intentions

2008-06-22T13:33:00.001+10:00

"Steve, you didn't!"

"It's good news you know."

"Steve, its not that. Its the principle of the thing. Is this a mid life crisis?"

"Oh come on. This is the thanks I get for finally seeing sense and doing something mature?"

"Shut up. I'm serious. This is serious. Call her. Tell her. Now."

"Why all this sympathy for her by the way? I thought you hated her."

"I have to go. I have to pop in at work before catching my flight."

"Oh come along Jenny. Tell you what, lets go out for dinner and then we can talk about this tomorrow."

"Don't come along me, Steve Lidgow."

She shot me a dirty look through her pretty violet eyes (they still looked pretty after all these years) and slammed the door behind her.

It was one of those days - cool, overcast with a slight chill that challenges you to wear just a flannel shirt and go for a jog. Windows still dewy at 2 in the afternoon. Duvet clad, and mighty glad, I pulled out one of the sweet babies Dave had given me for my anniversary and lit up. Looked out of the fifth floor ceiling-to-floor window beside my bed.

Yes, Steve, this was a good good day. A day when I was taking it off from work after a fantastic financial year.

A day for reflection, for knowing that for once, you had turned around at the monster of circumstance that zealously insisted on shadowing you every time you decided to start some life changing plan, looked it in the eye and said, "Look here you. That's it. Smack!"

A day for patting yourself for not letting life get to you.

A day for .. hm...maybe even a day to go to that gym that sucks up 1/30 of my salary every month. A man of my recently acquired new role should go to the gym. Be fit. He needs to be. If he wants to fulfil that role. Which, now that I had finally got myself to want that role, and found a way to get it, I wanted to.

Jenny would come around. She always had. Since college, despite several..um..interruptions, they had always been best of friends. And more.

Actually, why not act on Jenny's advice. She might not be half wrong, the sassy thing. He'd show Jenny he wasn't as much of a dimwit as she thought..

Hm. Cigar in hand, he lifted the handset and dialled his personal assistant.

"Erma, I need to book a flight to where Mrs. Lidgow is heading."

"Absolutely Sir. Giving the Missus a surprise by greeting her on the trip?"

"Well kind of. You remember those medical tests I asked you to pick up?"

"Yes."

"My wife, Erma, is pregnant. Only she doesn't know it yet."

"I'm sorry Sir I'm not quite sure what you...."

"Placebos Erma. Instead of her birth control pills. I'm 45, and I think she may have been right all these years. I want - nay, need - offspring to carry on the Lidgow legacy of fantasticity."

Silence on the other end.

"Of course Sir. I'm sure Mrs. Lidgow will be delighted. I'll have the flights booked at once. You will reach 12 hours after she lands. Will you need a hotel booked?"

Nope. I'm gonna be staying with her. What's that room she insisted on booking from here - something on the fourth floor in Grand Hyatt?"

"Yes Sir. Room 403. I'll arrange the taxi. And I can cancel your appointment with Ms. Jenny's after she returns from her trip tomorrow, I presume?"

"Cancel it all, ol girl. Its just me and Mrs. Lidgow now. Erma, you know I can't wait to see her face when I tell her the news."

"I'm sure it'll be quite an eventful trip, Sir."

(This is a follow up post to Home Sweet Home)

home sweet home

2008-06-16T23:13:00.001+10:00

She stepped off the shuttle bus and inhaled the cold winter morning mist, almost coughing from the frost, the fulfilled look inhabiting her pupils veiled by sunglasses. Yes, it was good to be home. That unmistakable trace of the polluting particulate that bore the stamp of her beloved home town seeped through even in the spanking new airport.

Clad in a cool blue trench coat and tan suede boots, she quickly felt in her handbag for the hotel room card. She needed that card if her business trip was going to be a success. It had better be a success after all the paperwork she had had to complete before getting here. Hours with solicitors poring over which pound should go where. Long sleepless nights thinking about the final day when it would come to fruition.

As she stood at the conveyer belt, her fingertips glazed over the freckles of rust on the trolley handle. Ah, rust.

Suddenly glad no one was coming to receive her, she walked out slowly, taking in every jet lagged executive and every first time air traveller, so obvious by their over labelled baggage.

When she was last here, twenty aching years ago, she had bet her entire life on a game of chance. Surprised herself with her confidence when she left her life, her love, her everything to go to a new country in hope of a brighter future. Was quickly corrected when emotional turmoil and professional struggle tested her privileged upbringing's true character. Had she passed? To all her friends, she had aced the class. But she knew. She knew that a girl like her, bound by God's curse-and-boon gift of switching to autopilot till her mind could cope with the harsh realities around her, had been damaged. Irreversibly. Cold analytical dissection which left her longing for emotion, knowing all the while that the floodgates were better left unopened.

Not once, the calmness of knowing you sleep by one you unconditionally trust. Not once, the relief of letting go of all conscious thought. She used to love going out. She had gone out. But she had forgotten how to enjoy herself. Care-trodden her brain failed to stop reminding her of self created responsibilities.

She used to dream of single life at 45.

She used to dream of learning the salsa.

She used to dream of a road trip across Europe as a part of the Salvation Army.

She used to dream of living hard in a rat infested New York downtown dump.

She used to dream of an exotic partner who would careen her into a dangerous world of Parisian cafes, Thai mystique and Gothic literature.

She used to dream of a writer's desk on a rainy afternoon in a suburban home.

She used to dream.

She doesn't anymore.

She's free now. From dreams. From reality. Most importantly, she's free from human affections. Emotional immunity perfected, yet ever so empathetic.

She's a fantastic actress. She fools herself too sometimes. Into thinking she's got it all despite never being able to convince her husband to have children with her. Into thinking her marriage was strong despite many falls from grace. Into thinking she is happy, despite a Prozac filled medicine cabinet. It's dangerous to be able to fool yourself, especially when you have an IQ of 130.

Today she believes she's home. A husband who loves her, parents who can't stop raving about her at senior citizen friendship circles, a career that allows Cosmopolitan to sell fantasies to millions of lost women who will be stuck in jobs they hate all their lives.

She's going to go to her 5 star hotel room and shoot herself tonight.

Elevator music. Take me home, country roads.

Indeed.

"Fourth floor. You're room is the third on the right, Madam."

"Thank you."

She stepped out of the lift.

Something happened

2008-06-13T23:50:00.001+10:00

Have you ever been so deep in it that all the fluffy white lavender fabric softener scented towels (even with the hint of a warm sun kissed aroma) towels couldn't alleviate you? For no reason at all, you wake with this vague sense of non-belonging, as though perhaps all earthmen were transported to another planet overnight, except you're the only sane (or insane) person who seems to realise it? Some pseudo out of body thing where the inner workings of human humdrum seem too..smooth.

As though something's amiss.

As I sat through my belated-by-a-day birthday cake cutting and the opening of a lovely package, it just seemed..plugged into a wall.

I shooed away the thought as my bored brain trying to get above itself. Then again today, the same feeling. On the tram, the doleful tune of "all around me are familiar places, worn out places, worn out places.." wickedly convoluted all cheer that a light drizzle accompanied by the welcome raw earth small and the invigorating almost too strong morning breeze can bring.

As I reached work, the predictability of everyone's oh-so-human behaviour to a simple shuffling of desks - which I was in-charge of purely cause the officiating manager didn't want nowt to do with it and left me with a desk layout, a list of 5 names too many and a "I want a window seat" - was making me want to slap someone, anyone..everyone preferably.

Everyone wanted a window seat or did not want to be near the kitchenette or wanted to be seated with so and so making me feel like I was in one of those giant "If A is sitting opposite C and B and D will not sit together and E must be seated to the right of A in which order must they be seated?" type puzzles. I felt like a school teacher with kids who whined about "But he talks so loudly on the phone" or "How come he's sitting there?" I felt like I desperately needed a soundproof room.

No PMS, not too much sugar or junk food lately, no argument, nothing. I was - quite inexplicably - at snapping point. Usually, I can patiently dole out the quiet tactful explanations when I want to make it clear that I am not going to be bullied by colleagues. Usually, I can multitask. Even if the extension rings just as my bash shell decides to throw 5 unfathomable error logs at me and I'm in the middle of a ppt to be delivered in the next 3 hours, I can be civil, even nice to the person on the other end. I almost enjoy the brief adrenaline spells (yes yes I realise what a nerd this makes me sound like).

Today, it was driving me up the wall. One bloke came up to me and told me the LAN switch I had just given him wasn't working. When, exasperated after 3 minutes of explaining which port goes where, I walked over to his desk 2 aisles away and he asks me, "by the way, is there a power adapter for this or is it battery run?"

By lunchtime, I was clearly going to burst. I was feeling physically sick and was wondering if there might be some truth in the hormonal nonsense my GP had tried to sell me during my last visit. I was dodging the line between assertive and aggressive.

Next thing I know, the deputy comes up to me and says, only half-jokingly I suspect, "Well you were in charge of this, Adrian (the boss he "deputes" for, not his real name) has been on leave half a day and look at this. I blame you."

I had had it.

I replied - and God help me I am not lying - I have no freaking idea where this came from and I do not make a habit of playing with authority - " Well, it teaches you, Mr. Deputy, never to apply for Adrian's job unless you're damn sure you can handle it."

Unfortunately, or fortunately, I don't think he got it.

Next I sent a completely rude answer to a text message from my Mom. Thankfully, I convinced her 3 hours later that it was due to that fact that the message was ill timed enough to come right in the middle of a meeting. She reluctantly bought it. She's a Mom though, I think she might just have just decided to be nice to me by pretending.

Things got a bit better when come 3.30pm (the time of the desk shift) the entire office turned into a giant pyjama party with people shoving keyboards, staplers and all sundry back and forth. Someone put on some music and soon the beats of "This heartache" with the fumes of a very acerbic smelling and yet scarily addictive surface cleaner filling the air. Beers were passed all around, on the house, and it all ended not on an altogether awful note.

Women and the MBA

2008-06-08T13:33:00.001+10:00

I struggled for a bit when trying to place this article in the right blog. It's about my MBA aspirations which I am currently documenting at http://techsieveonline.blogspot.com.

But its also personal - its about how being a woman affects my decision to go to a B-School and indeed, affects the panel's decision to accept me.

Having spent 4 years in an engineering class of 70 boys and 3 girls (including me), I can safely tell you that it takes grit to stand your own in a male dominated geek world. It's easy to assume that the guys with all their high-flown jargon actually know what they're talking about, its even easier to assume you can never match up to them. I flunked out of one exam in the 88 I took over those four years - because the instructor refused to believe it was me who had actually designed that circuit. He was convinced I had pilfered it off a presumably more solder-savvy male classmate. But it really does come down to whether you allow yourself to be convinced that your brain is biologically not quite as well cut out for the job as theirs. For many promising girls, I saw their intelligence and potential being cut down by half only because they allowed themselves to believe that girls are all about exam oriented academics and not about getting their hands dirty with real life subject matter.

As a female engineering student, I faced the following challenges:

Stereotyping and preconceptions of women's roles and abilities - there were those who believed a woman couldn't have a career at all and there were those who believed women could only have a career in non-technical media/fine arts/HR roles (creditably many of the latter also felt women did a better job in these roles). I have been lucky to have come across some enlightened souls who do take women on the same intellectual platform.
Exclusion from the informal boys' gang where many stimulating discussions and "experiments" were carried out
Exclusion from the boys' hostel where mentoring and night long chats led to significant career prospects and knowledge transfer
A greater sense of commitment to personal/partner/family responsibilities than to a career (this part of my personality was quite hidden even to myself till about a year ago).

It came as no surprise that here in Australia, this gap has been identified and there are special women engineering groups and government policies to help women get back to work. Eg, Part time and work-from-home policies (extremely feasible especially in the IT world where all you need is a coffee and a computer), networking events for women, voluntary support groups, paternity leave so mommy doesnt have to do all the baby sitting etc.

Now as I think of B-school I wonder. A quick google search identifies the following roadblocks for female B-School wannabes:

Lack of workplace mentorship (again, old boys' network and Friday night beer chats)
Belief of senior management that even potentially fantastic lady managers will not want to pursue a high pressure job (they need to get back home early, they won't do overtime on weekends etc)
The biological clock. The average ago of an MBA applicant is 28. By that age, aunts, mums and married friends are all over you to get hitched.
Fear of math (I know, weird! You might as well assume men can't be well versed in fine arts!)
Women find it hard to gain credibility as a full-fledged professional rather than a team member who is there to supplement her family's income.

And these are the top tips for women who want to make it to B-schools, sourced from by women who've done it and B-schools that are keen to improve their intra-class dating ratios:

Money matters - be savvy about personal finance, negotiate your salary.
Keep it pink - you don't have to be one of the boys or go all short skirts and lace frills. Be professional but don't try to think like a man. A woman brings a different viewpoint to any situation - viewpoints that are as valuable (there is a reason B-schools want the ladies there).
Take your personal life out of the office - no coochie coo calls at the workplace, no gossiping and definitely no flirting.
Knowledge is power - Nothing beats expertise - it forces people to consult you and showcases your skills. Stay on top of current trends in your field.
Network, network, network. On the job, in the family, with the school gang, and even online.
Seek and you shall receive - research shows that leaders - male or female - have one overriding trait - the desire to be a leader. If you know your boss appreciates your skills, let him know you're interested in being a team leader. He'll keep it in mind the next time he has a recruitment meeting with senior management. And remember, all companies are looking to diversify their management portfolio genderwise - it makes the company look good. A friend of mine at IIM Kolkata once told me any girl getting through the CAT preliminary had a 50% higher chance of getting through the interview - simply because she was competing with a much smaller demographic.

Now what surprises me is that there are 2 fields that have had no trouble incorporating women in their taskforce as well-respected equals - law and medicine. So why are the technical and the management fields still so dicey? Let me have a think, I'll come back to you soon.

exploratory instincts

2008-06-07T22:31:00.001+10:00

At the cost of sounding like a stalker, I have lately wondered what to do with my misplaced curiosity about the more interesting people in our lives. I have an urge which has got me into a fair amount of trouble with the more common members of the opposite sex who are quick to misinterpret my need to pick at their brains as having the male all encompassing motive. Of course, this is exactly the point where my curiosity fades into slight disgust - both at the object of former pseudo voyeurism as well as myself at not having seen through their emotional retardedness.

But the trait remains despite many attempts at supression. For instance, a certain person at my office is one of these quiet pseudo Brit blokes who disquiets you with a confidence that can only be borne of deep living. And it takes some disquieting to disquiet me. He's one of those strong and silent types who probably found the girl of his dreams, said yes-that's-it and settled down with her for the rest of his life. One of those finer specimens who make you understand why we still go around believing in fidelity. Now I would love to have one of those tete-a-tetes, be done with it and move on to the next brain, but that attractive solitude is exactly the reason I know I never will get to.

The first time I realised I loved this was when I sat opposite a person purely by chance in a Dubai airport executive lounge while waiting for a flight delayed by 15 hours and had the most fascinating 6 hour conversation with him. Turned out, he was a twice married orphaned Pakistani doctor who had escaped his native village and gone on to become a surgeon at Chicago city hospital. And as I left him for my plane, I thought to myself, "This is what humanity means - exchanging life stories over dinner even though you'll never meet each other again."

Everyone's had them - those long conversations in Indian trains or overnight in a bus with the person next to you. You don't want to meet the person again, but you're glad your paths crossed.

Thankfully, over the years I have learnt not to misconstrue this curiosity as anything but, but the fact remains that it very annoying that the most interesting specimens of our world are the ones who just about give a sliver of themselves away and hide everything else.

Very annoying indeed.

Sounds of a Melbourne morning

2008-06-07T22:01:00.001+10:00

Run run you'll miss the tram
Oh no I forgot my lunch on the dining table
Puff puff woman doing her make up
Right at the tram stop
Chug chug tram's running late
Will miss the train again
Swoop swoop tram door opens
Screech, please stop at next stop

Run out and into the station
Quick glance at schedule
City loop at Platform 4 in 2
Zoinnnnk plud
Train's come

Beep beep doors open

Shuffle shuffle walk in soundlessly
Beep beep doors closing
Take out my book and read
Boom tap boom tap
Throw the dirty look at the loud mp3 playing teen
Apologize to fellow office goer for brushing against him
And disturbing his perfectly steamed coat
Clickety clack clickety clack
Subtly expensive heels climbing the escalator
I look up - row of people, one on each step
Unchaotic in the 8:30 rush
The unspoken escalator rules - still on left, move on right
Mother of two making a fortune stands on the left
Knowing the worst of her morning is over
Thump thump two steps at a time
Ambitious executive rushing past on right
He's late cause of the rush into an ex at the bar
Punch ping ticket valid
Approving nod from train officer
Ting ting ting can't cross road
Wait for man to turn green
Avoiding the others gaze
Quiet queue in front of Coffee Xpress
And then the walk down the road
Laptops and handbags bogging us down
Ping - elevator going up
Very civil very nice
We walk into lifts
A million curses and judgements on fellow riders
Inhaling their overpowering colognes, ciggies and coffees
Ping again - Level 7, says the elevator lady
Flash the card, access granted
Another day begins
Still not a word has been spoken to the millions I've passed
Since I walked out of my front door an hour ago

A Year closer

2008-06-07T16:25:00.001+10:00

Yet another birthday comes around the corner. And yet again, I have no feelings about it - good or bad. Bodes well for when I turn 3-0 or 4-0 I guess.

That's pretty much all I have to say. Toodle-pip.

Emancipated women and Modern Islam : A "heady" mix

2008-06-07T16:16:00.001+10:00

As my homepage - SBS World News - loaded, I almost unconsciously hit stop and typed in www.gmail.com. Then suddenly, I hit Back - my attention arrested by the fleeting glance at the frontpage (front URL?) picture. Women in religious headscarves on the street of Turkey - young, fearless, educated women - protesting in hordes, big red, black and white banners in hand. "Women march against court ban on headscarves." Hold on a minute - against the court ban? Against the rare instance of a government saying, "Look here, we think the women have had enough of all this head-covering business and if you won't do something we will" ?

I'm a frontrunner for feminism and books like "My Feudal Lord" and "Not without my daughter" (the latter has been converted into a film where the protagonist is played by Sally Field and is banned in Iran along with Satanic Verses) leave me seething with rage and pain for women in Islamic co untries who are forced to shroud their naturally stunning looks and glossy hair in non-voluntary reverence to police officers - the muttawa. And I had read a fair amount about the atrocities citizens have to face on their account - in Iraq at least.

Once you've seen a member of this Religious Police, you'll never miss one again. They (and there are reportedly some 3500 in Iraq of them on government payroll, plus thousands of volunteers) have an intense, menacing look about them as they walk the streets and malls on the lookout for anyone wavering from the path of Wahhabi Islam.

Physically you can easily spot them too. For instance, their thobes (the white 'dresses' Arab men love to wear) are shorter, reaching between knee and ankle as opposed to 'on the ankle'; they all have full beards, some dyed an orangey red, presumably with henna, and they wear red and white chequered shamaghs, the flowing head coverings, but without the black braided cord known as an igaal. If you're as puzzled as I was about how this all holds together, the scarf-like covering is kept in place by a skullcap aka taqiyah, worn underneath. Another sure way to know the Muttawa are coming is they'll be carrying a whip or cane that may or may not be used on errant citizens.

So now you can understand my absolute shock when I saw that picture.

Personally I have always believed that no religion started out bad for all claim to want to salvage a world driving itself to destruction. Along the way, each has been modified, interpreted and re-interpreted to suit the executor who in many cases wielded much political power. It is no surprise that it was big news when Obama decided to resign from his church and join another one. It is no surprise that one of the greatest powers in Western India - the Shiv Sena - wields communalist weapons in its "fight to save the area's inherent culture."

For a non-Muslim pretty non-religious in general person like me, it is not easy to always put into perspective the fervour that many have for their chosen course to God. And sometimes I have to force myself to realise that many are Islamic by choice. One such jolt came when a women wrote the following letter to the evening newspaper in Melbourne.

"Fellow train travellers, I have had it with the stares I get from all of you as I board for work every morning in my black headscarf. No I am not a terrorist, no I am not suppressed by my spouse. I enjoy a good barbeque and a good footy game just like any of you. I grew up in a big country Aussie Catholic family and chose to convert to Islam 4 years ago. And I'm loving it. So, please, don't insult the famed Aussie cultural tolerance by giving me sympathetic looks." - Annoyed, Brunswick East, Melbourne.

Then there was the woman at my workplace 3 cabins away - she wears a different flamboyant stylish (and I suspect Louis Vuitton branded) headscarf that always goes perfectly with her business suit for the day. And she is one of the best SAP testers in the team - and the most highly qualified.

I am delighted to have reason to change my deep rooted fear of female oppression in Islamic societies. And I am delighted that young university going ladies in Turkey have the maturity to understand that being asked to take off your headscarves for the sake of secularism is as much a violation of freedom of expression as is being forced to don a burqa when you don't want to.

More power to them I say!

(The full SBS article accompanying the above picture can be found at http://news.sbs.com.au/worldnewsaustralia//hundreds_protest_over_headscarf_ban_548718)

ALLO ALLO

2008-06-02T00:21:00.001+10:00

Have been watching a lot of Jeeves and Wooster (starring Hugh Laurie and Stephen Fry). Also reading the original radio scripts of Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (discovered awesome community library with unlimited number of books issuable - YAYYYY!). Just finished. Now moving on to A short introduction to Psychology by Boring Blitherer MD, PhD. My interest in the subject keeps me from giving up on the not-so-light read.

Have also started GMATting and blogging about it at http://techsieveonline.blogspot.com. My Ubuntu CD arrived (did you know they post em free?!) still to find time to de-Windowfy my Dell.

Had a weird fainting spell thing 3 nights ago and owing to hypochondriac mommy spent Saturday morning @ Doc's. Turned out unfortunately for potential mommy-and-me-i-told-you-so-conversations that mommy dearest was right and there was an underlying reason. Nothing fatal, need to get a couple million tests done and confirm polycystic somethingies so I can start medications. Ugh!

As a result, oranges and figs are being forced down my throat by the dozen and I am off non-veg (that part's voluntary). Anyway, another week begins tomorrow.

Friend sent me email about friend who knows friend who is publishing poem compilation and I shd send over some of my work. For some reason, had urge to protect work from prying eyes of publisher who might discard it in 30 second reading, hence breaking my heart. Must get over idiocy.

Also found out friend leaving on 28 July for MS. Everyone disseminating. Why? When will we all be together again? Must not brood on past. Not really brooding actually, more a single hen, or even chick, if you will (Ref: brood of chickens? Oh fine, I'll get over it.)

Brooding on future by the by, when will I have chance to come back to India? That's what I want to know.

Also spent time at nearby second hand book sellers running closing down sale and found chinese horoscope book similar to Linda Goodman. Am piqued to know that I am Gemini Tiger, which are most emotionally sensitive of Gemini clan. Also, have moon in Capricorn. Surprise surprise. Thank God for the Gemini-ness though, helps keep a bit of a thick skin.

PS Why is the whole world going crazy over the 'Sex and the City' movie? Pls go watch 'Then she found me' instead. TRQ, expect a review on that one soon.

brilliance in a dying comic strip industry

2008-05-09T01:03:00.001+10:00

Recently came across this. Find more at Explosm.net.

End of Days

2008-04-28T22:58:00.003+10:00

I've been goin a blog hopping. And the ride ain't pretty. Stop 1 : a woman who's only post is in Sep 2002 about her newfound single parenthood. Stop 2: A blogger who barely writes nowadays being macabre and assuring me it isn't to do with his state of mind. Stop 3 : a 3 part novella along the lines of sliver and SVU. Stop 4: an infrequently visited website also containing inspired Virginia Andrews material....oh this is too depressing.

Let's talk of prettier things.

Like the rain that has swept up this city, and how the chilling morning breeze pinks up my cheeks. Like the fact that Australia and India are playing together and I don't have to pick a side (just a state!). Like the cozy feel of watching a DVD with indulgent food and the promise of a 3 day weekend. Like the look of amazement on a 5 year old angelic blonde on the train home when I told her she could keep the bookmark she had been eyeing.

Can't do it. Sounds cliched. Truth be told, global warming, breaking relationships, rapes, cold murders. Its all part of the prophecy. I read the Bible recently. Matthews 24 scared me out of my living skin, and then some more. So I switched to the Jehovah's Witness account. Not too different. Qoran. Much the same. Dear God, this does not bode well. Global warming, earthquakes, false prophecies..it mentions them all. Don't even get me started with Josef Fritzl - Lector was more humane. I've said it before and I'll say it again. Driving licenses and Universal Suffrage be damned, there should be a global license needed for parenthood. Keep em tied till they learn to behave themselves.

Oh and did I tell you our light and airy lunch conversation. It started with killing of chickens and fish and how you can't eat what you've seen being killed. It ended with us talking of cannibals and mothers having kids to get the Australian's Baby Bonus of $3000 and spending it on drugs.

Sad part is this - I know that this is just a passing phase. We won't live long enough to see it to the actual end of days, coming of Anti Christ blah blah. I don't think our kids will either. Kalyug is supposed to last 1200 years according to the Guru Granth Sahib, 432000 years according to Vedas and the Iron age (which marks the last age before Golden Age resurrects itself) is 1250 years. Either way, the next generation is going to be born bang in the middle of it, and all they will see before they die is it getting worse. The thought makes we wonder if its worth having a next generation. Leaving them a planet in the state it is, a society where an entire countries fate can be controlled by a liquid legacy underground ... ugh. I'll write when I'm in a better mood.

Earth Hour 2008

2008-03-16T22:27:00.002+11:00

I just joined up for earth hour. Its a simple system. For one hour on March 29th at 8 pm, over a million Melbournians will switch off all their lights, fans and non-critical electrical appliances in solidarity for climate change. The power they save is equivalent to getting 50,000 cars off the road. This is inspired by a similar feat in Sydney last year.

New Delhi isn't listed yet because not enough people have signed up. Please sign up and do it with your friends or with people at your workplace - decide on a time and switch off your lights. Have a candlelit dinner. Gaze at the stars. Have a suance. Play hide and seek. Have fun like they did before electricity. And help save the planet.

If you wanna make your commitment official, join the WWF sponsored website www.earthhour.org.

I quote straight from the website :

It started with a question: How can we inspire people to take action on climate change?

The answer: Ask the people of Sydney to turn off their lights for one hour.

On 31 March 2007, 2.2 million people and 2100 Sydney businesses turned off their lights for one hour - Earth Hour. If the greenhouse reduction achieved in the Sydney CBD during Earth Hour was sustained for a year, it would be equivalent to taking 48,616 cars off the road for a year.

With Sydney icons like the Harbour Bridge and Opera House turning their lights off, and unique events such as weddings by candlelight, the world took notice. Inspired by the collective effort of millions of Sydneysiders, many major global cities are joining Earth Hour in 2008, turning a symbolic event into a global movement. "

I have joined up. If you want to do so, go to
http://www.earthhour.org/user/uqff

Currently India has around 2039 signups for earth hour. Corporates or businesses can also join in. Anyone who reads my blog knows about black google. And anyone who cares will not mind some candlelit dinner for one night. www.earthhour.org. Click. Now. And switch off this PC when you're done with it! Don't log off, switch off. Close that laptop lid when you go to the loo for 3 minutes. Switch off the switch of the TV no matter how sleepy you are. No, mate, from the wall, not the remote. GET MOVING!

Bye for now. I'm doing my share tonight by sleeping by 10pm - less electricity used in lighting up the house. What? Climate saving can be fun!

Identity

2008-01-28T03:13:00.000+11:00

In the ancient days of chatrooms where the first internet romances bloomed, "asl" was the pick up line for people who didnt want to enter a bar. Age, Sex, Location. Determining factors. And people readily gave them out, as morphed as their answer might be into imagined fountains of youth or travel across the life long 10 km radius they called home.

Today, I stumbled into a (pardon the cliche) charming little cafe that merged a "pre-loved" book rental and exchange cubby along with a what I imagine Parisian cafes to be like bristo. Colours and international borders crisscross here as I am arrested by the smell of strong simple coffee and chalkboard menus, the sponging in of the ambience is dramatic and refreshing; the sheer vastness of old people, new people, white people, black people, stiletto heeled louis vuitton tote carrying, barefoot out of bed breakfast having, coffee obsessed book lovers, spouse dragged book haters and all in between. I loved it. I was drawn to it like it might represent all humanity as it was meant to be.

Identity. A book lover. Well read. Branded clothes. Branded degrees. Cult books. Cult drugs. Latest movies. Latest girls. Mother's religious beliefs. Rebel. Dog lover. Orthodox. Liberal. Nationality. Last name. Skill with the paintbrush. Skill with a surgeon's knife. Infact one judges ones identity not by a universal check list. Each person develops his own checklist. Decides what is or isn't important. Money stays on the list. Religion doesn't. Sex stays on the list. Age doesn't. And more often than not, this check list decides who we respect and who we don't. It decides how we see a person's identity. More importantly, it decides how we see our own. To me, for instance, my gender is a more important identity determiner than my nationality. Not true for the guy who is fascinated when he hears me speak in Hindi. To me, the fact that he works at an awesome firm is a decider in my judgement of him. To him, its just a name on the building he enters everyday to make a living.

It strikes me that a person can be blind to so many aspects of himself if they cannot see some checkpoints other people have on their list that they personally never thought were identity builders. In some respects its a good thing. Weight, for instance, shouldn't be on anyone's list.

But it strikes me that an initial rapport is developed when you realise you have a couple of common points on your identity forming lists. Especially if you both match in a couple of the answers. It may be books read, profession, dreams and hobbies, hell in most male cases it can be the "instant-new-male-friend-maker " - sutta. A single shared cigarette. In a bar, it may be two people who discover they are in the same place in their love life. But our identities are different with each person. We know intuitively what each person's checklist is. If we want to get along with the person, we instantly try to ensure our behaviour is making them mentally tick as many points.

Me talking to boss - will be polite so he thinks I am good employee, will make intelligent comment as he is judgingme on basis of future employability.

Me talking to father - will be stable sounding so dad does not suspect psycho brain dwelling in offspring, will exhibit absolute oblivion to sins of modern society so father continues dwelling in 20 year old me holding finger while crossing road false utopia.

You get the point.

Brain has suddenly linked article with Amartya Sen's book "Pluralism of Identities : How it is responsible for all Political and Religious Wars Ever." Am sure book title is wrong, but distinctly remember the theme as being just so. Have inadverdently arrived at first premise of book that took world economists and political analysts by storm.

Am delighted to discover that am brilliant. Should be world wide economist so that imaginary daughter can live off my fame and get any crap published by Penguin using my legacy. Suddenly wish father was Amartya Sen. Penguin published book is dream that seems long dreamed of but recently discovered.

Will never have book published if write so incorrectly grammatically as though incapable of writing connected subjects and predicates, unless of course write book in manner of Bridget Jones or Devil wears Prada. Although guiltily big fan of such books, do not have guts to be labelled chic'lit mindless writer using simple Cosmopolitan style girl psychology to get money from self esteem based woman power themed book. Hence, must avoid all such grammar and be smart and suave mature observer of society.

God, I'm hilarious!

Release Me

2008-01-23T18:57:00.000+11:00

This is a breathtaking song from the new Saab ecofriendly car ad. Reminds me of Terri Naomi. And the "I wish I was a punk rocker" style of music. Simple strong and power packed.

The ad's on youtube at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=piDgTFaafNM

I am the wilderness locked in a cage,
I am a growing force you kept in place,
I am a tree reaching for the sun,
Please don't hold me down
Please don't hold me down

I am a rolling wave without the motion,
A glass of water longing for the ocean,
I am an asfelt flower breaking free,
but you keep stopping me
Release me
Release me

I am the rain thats coming down on you,
That you shielded yourself from with a roof,
I am the fire burning desperately
but you're controlling me
Release me
Release me

Tribute to Mr. Tolkien

2008-01-21T14:48:00.000+11:00

The epidemic of ennui and faded ambitions seem to swarthe about me, quietly whispering its subtle victory in the now withering mundane lives of the people I know and love, people with so much to give, so much to create. I talk not just of people of my generation, but men and women whose thoughts almost scream once the children have left the nest or once they reach a time where they actually have time to listen to their inner voice.

It is in such a time that I found inspiration and relief - albeit temporary - in the words of JRR. I decided to re-run an LOTR marathon, and once again fell deeply in love with the story. Here, then, are my favourite snippets (some of em have nothing to do with the life musings above and more to do with simply how they remind you to be funny in the most macabre of situations):

The Road goes ever on and on
Down from the door where it began.
Now far ahead the Road has gone,
And I must follow, if I can,
Pursuing it with eager feet,
Until it joins some larger way
Where many paths and errands meet,
And whither then? I cannot say.

Frodo, in the dark of the Mines of Morea: "I wish the ring had never come to me, I wish none of this had happened."
Gandalf: "So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide, all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."

Gandalf: Confound it all, Samwise Gamgee! Have you been eavesdropping?
Sam: I haven't been droppin' no eaves sir, honest! I was just cutting the grass under the window there, if you'll follow me.
Gandalf: A little late for trimming the verge, don't you think?
Sam: I heard raised voices.
Gandalf: What did you hear? Speak!
Sam: N-nothing important. That is, I heard a good deal about a ring, and a dark lord, and something about the end of the world, but please, Mr. Gandalf, sir, don't hurt me. Don't turn me into anything... unnatural.

Aragorn: The same blood flows in my veins. The same weakness.
Arwen: Your time will come. You will face the same evil, and you will defeat it.

Frodo: "I miss the Shire. I spent all my childhood pretending I was off somewhere else. Off with you, on one of your adventures. But my own adventure turned out to be quite different."

Aragorn: "You have some skill with a blade."
Eowyn: "The women of this land learned long ago, that those without swords can still die upon them. I fear neither death nor pain."
Aragorn: "What do you fear, my Lady?"
Eowyn: "A cage. To be kept behind bars until use and old age accept them, and all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire."
Aragorn: "You are a daughter of Kings, a shieldmaiden of Rohan, I do not think that will be your fate."

From the book, more boring but infinitely better than the movies (hm, weird):

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken:
The crownless again shall be king.

Faithless is he that says farewell when the road darkens.

But the hearts of men are easily corrupted.

And, my favourite:

Frodo: "I can't do this, Sam."
Sam: "I know. It's all wrong. By rights we shouldn't even be here. But we are. It's like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo, the ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger they were. 'Cause sometimes you didn't want to know the end because how could the end be happy? How can the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end it's only a passing thing. A shadow even darkness must pass. A new day will come and when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you, that meant something even if you were to small to understand why. But I think Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folks in those stories had lots of chances in turning back only they didn't. They kept going because they were holding onto to something."
Frodo: "What are we holding onto, Sam?"
Sam: "That there's some good left in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."

I love these movies! Mr. Tolkien, Sir, thank you! :)

And this picture, as a pure reminder of how fantastic Viggo is on screen and off it.

Undone

2008-01-18T16:27:00.000+11:00

When your dreams are broken
By the expanses of circumstance
When you chase even their rivals of reality
And they simply look askance,

When you don't have the guts to read a sad book
Or even listen a cheesy romantic line
Because you know it'll have you crying
In a minute's time

When the stories of great strugglers
Make you wonder what's wrong with you
When the lives of those with less
Seem to speed ahead of yours

Where did the strength you thought you had
Disappear when you needed it the most
Abysses of self pity wasn't my refuge
I still hate the stench of blaming fate

Something there is that breaks me down
Each time I hear a no
Something there is despite my beliefs
That doesn't let go.

Taking it back
Letting go
Taking it back
Letting go
The cycle is sickening.
Damaging
To the belief that one can do what one loves
And live to tell the tale.

Give me something to believe in
Give me a reason beyond close ones
Give me a cause that is all my own
Give me a calling that only I can fulfil.

I swear to you
There will not be a woman more committed
There will not be a worker more determined
There will not be a child more demanding, dear God
Once I find that calling that is mine to own.

Till then we lie
Like globules of energy that sputter intermittently
Yet, for most time, go quietly about our meaningless businesses
Type type, click click
Tring tring, sign sign
Weekend, quickly to the party
Back again and lock the doors
Head to pillow, good citizens with well balanced financial portfolios
Taking safe risks and smiling incessantly
Happy, happy,
Ignoring the vast capability inside us.

But I dont wanna...

2008-01-13T11:42:00.000+11:00

The thing is, people blog. People read. Where were we before blogging? Diaries? Journals? For the select few, newspaper editorials. For the even more select few, autobiographies. And it seems to me that there isn't much to blog about anymore. I mean, obviously you can't write out everything. Privacy blah blah. Plus, my conclusion from personal experience is that there is a large drop in quality when you write about your own life. Don't ask me why. You just have a more organized and objective (duh!) thought process when it isn't to do with your life.

So then what is your audience when you are writing about your own life? You resort to weird metaphors to protect your privacy, which result in the people who know you to go "is that really how she felt *$&@(&$" and the people who don't to go "what again? (puzzled frown)" (Case in point : Onkar's befuddled comment to me putting down selling electricity as something I hated!).

Maybe I'll rephrase this. I am a cynic of journal-style blogging. I'll leave that for my diary. Perhaps a blog should be limited to only those fragments of thought that are completely removed from your day-to-day life.

To me, writing has two big payoffs - one, creative outlet (scary at times how much you need it and how much putting it down empties you of whatever negative feelings you have and redoubles the positives). Second, someone who's day is improved by reading it - maybe just as an escape from 3 hours of debugging or as a person who, hey awesomeness, was feeling the same way and is relieved that someone feels the same way.

My reason for cynicism is this. Blogging is too much about too less. Yes, its fantastic to put down your thoughts and know that anyone can read it. Is that what we want? Out of a million opinions on so many blogs about the US election or even on something as simple as a frustrating day at work, what makes your stand out? How is your day/thought more valuable just cause you have a place to put it down or an audience who cares? How does it make you feel "unique"? What right do you have to get a voice when people who should don't? There are currently a hundred Kenyans who's opinions are a million times more valuable than mine. Even the thoughts of a bright student of politics would have a more heavyweight opinion. Yet, at least five people (hopefully) will read what I think about it, just cause I have a blog, and these people don't. Makes me feel like a bit of a hypocrite. So half way through the article, I just rewrote the title and signed out.

Is there an Attorney-General here? What happens when there are too many blogs and you have to select which ones to keep and which ones go? Do the ones that get the max readership automatically win? Will the celebrities get to keep theirs? Will Stephen Fry and Condelezza Rice get to keep theirs and a sweet 12 year old in Arkansas have to delete hers?

How does all this fit into the bigger scheme of things? Is there a bigger scheme of things when it comes to blogging? Does anyone agree with me here? Or is this just blog babble?

I'm not blogging anymore - the struggling optimist has finally given up the struggle, and is now a certified cynic.

2008-01-11T19:13:00.000+11:00

Auld Lang Syne, Bridget Style

2008-01-02T01:37:00.000+11:00

ciggies : none
instants : none
calories : what's that again?!

I have, in the past 24 hours, pretty much run through the entire gamut of human emotions. Started with overwhelming depression as I started to get ready for new year non-extravaganza. Missed new year 2006 (spent partying with old school friends at local community club in hometown back in India), 2007 (spent red, swollen and itchy with rare sudden outbreak of "allergic urticarea" at best friend's home watching James Bond movie with her and her family, i forget which movie it was). Miss sense of partying and imminent hours of dancing till I drop...miss friends. Sudden realization, will have to go through at least 3 more of these without them. Gravity of physical distance suddenly shooting up to highest possible level - like when ball is rotating and direction of angular motion is at highest point of circumfrence and parallel to ground (pls God don't let my Class 12 Physics teacher ever read this).

Being newcomers to a new city and country, we set out to see the famous Melbourne fireworks (actually the pre midnight ones at 9pm, aka Family Fireworks). At around 8 pm we set out to catch one of them free trams. Please remember that the sun starts setting at 9 pm out here. Was quite an experience as the trams strategy of keeping cars/drunken drivers off the roads on new years eve by providing free tram transport after 6pm worked a little too well. So my sis and I jumped on to one of them, with a promise to Mama of a pre-midnight return. Emotional turmoil worsened by giggly-dolled-up-obviously-close-group-of-girls being all girly right next to us in tram. Nostalgia. Nostalgia. Ugh, why don't I stress smoke? Why don't I smoke? Coz I have an awesome baby sister, who listened to me as I ranted and raved in the tram. And an awesome friend with awesome timing who, by the time I reached, called from overseas. He promptly reminded me that this was my chance to do all I always wanted to - be the adventuress who explored the world, met new people on airports, swapped life stories and opinions on random topics with strangers and experienced all moments to the fullest - without the disadvantage of being a single girl in a country with loads of oglers. Good point. As he hung up with the statutory warning of not taking his pep talk too seriously and entering a crashable rave party which would leave me as one of the many bodies the City Police pick up off the St Kilda beach and sometimes had to deliver home in semi-conscious state next morning, I felt happier. Nice music. Live band. Lotsa people. Young people. Old people. Nice people. Not so pleasant people. This was quite okay.

Noises. Sudden rush of people in one direction - hey preliminary 9pm fireworks. Yay! Saw. Liked. Reminisced some more about Diwali back home and how beautiful it wouldve looked from my 6th floor bachelorette pad back home. Then settled down with some nice tangy lemony semi-ice-lolly semi-lemonade thingy and pringles. Said sorry to sis for messing up the start of the evening. Soaked in the atmosphere. Picked up some Lindt for Mama. On way out, saw police taking away person with bloody nose and holding back expletive-spewing-supposed-girlfriend. Ah, the essential New Year violence episode. Maybe this would be a traditional celebration after all. Saw masses of people on streets. Felt sudden i-am-part-of-humanity-unity-in-diversity happiness twinge. Flinders Street has changed into a massive nightclub it seems. Its quite nice to have New Year in the middle of the sweltering summer, it only adds colour and festivity to the dresses worn and makes it all like one beach party - people actually come down to watch the show with beach towels. The street is actually the best party of em all. Trams have been disallowed in the area, which means we must walk up two blocks to catch our ride home, a fact we realize after waiting at the now-non-functional-tramstop for about 15 minutes. Tram empty at 10pm except for parents who's children got too cranky for them to stay and some love stuck couples who - oh im not going to imagine.

Reached home. Happy. Dinner with Mum. Nice. Watched some TV specials. Midnight, yay. Hugs. Kisses. Goodnight then. Thoughts just before sleep - 2007, long year. 2008 - probably even longer year. Thankful for friends. Remind self that I'd much rather have a slightly struggle needing interesting life than a boring and strugleless one. Write panicky email to friend about state of 3 deteiorating friendships with very nice peopl and self introspectory psychological babble. Sleep.

Next morning, wake up at noon. Shop for much needed fan in sweltering heat. Difficult since few shops open. Note on one shop - TOO HOT. GONE HOME. I like this country. The people are so cute! Buy fans. Bring home. Assemble fans. Lose a bolt (of fan). Find bolt thankfully. Switch on fans. Motor not exploding. Not bad for a person with a degree in Electrical Engineering. Receive reply to aforementioned psychobabble filled email. Relief from appreciative you-will-be-okay standard feel-good fare.

Must sleep now.

Happy 2008 ! May it be an eventful year that will make us all stronger, filled with adventures to be remembered, silent evenings to be cherished, good books, good music and of course, good company (pun intended).

The Butterfly Effect : The Assassination of Benazir Bhutto

2007-12-29T00:25:00.000+11:00

I am not a political analyst, and I'm not trying to be one. I'm a regular world citizen - a media/political victim of "terrorist fear" to whom the international page in the morning paper is just a 5 second scan. Political battles and ground breaking diplomatic summits mean nothing to me. Yet this one hit me hard. Almost below the belt. It left me confused. Befuddled. Benazir Bhutto assassinated. Pakistan in chaos. So, like any self respecting blogger, I googled "Bhutto". Don't try it. It's a mad, mad world out there right now. And in view of the December 28th events, some have gone beyond mad to downright scarily fanatic. Wikipedia, of course, wasted no time in converting the second paragraph of their article on her to the following:

" She was assassinated on 27 December 2007, in a combined shooting and suicide bomb attack during a political rally of the Pakistan Peoples Party in the Liaquat National Bagh in Rawalpindi.[3] Eyewitnesses to the assassination stated to various news agencies that Bhutto had stood up through the sunroof of the white Toyota Land Cruiser that ferried her to the rally to wave at supporters who were cheering her. It was then that a man on a motorcycle, carrying an AK-47 rifle, fired two shots, one into Bhutto's neck, and she collapsed, falling down into the vehicle. Bhutto was rushed to Rawalpindi General Hospital where she died at 6:16 p.m. local time (13:16 GMT). The gunshot to the neck was reported as the cause of death, according to the Pakistani Interior Ministry. She was buried in her hometown in Larkana, Sind, next to her father Zulfiqar Ali Bhutto's grave. "

She "was". That's the second one in my lifetime. To my not yet born children, their mummy witnessed the 9/11 and the Bhutto assassination.

The news cast ripples across many newsrooms, many homes and changed the directions of many a political wind. Afgahanistan President Hamid Karzai said he was shocked. Hilary Clinton will use it to coerce voters to go for the "safe choice" - a former first lady whose husband's tenure was clean of any such "madness". For Rudy Giuliani, who just released a new 9/11-themed commercial in New Hampshire and Florida titled "Freedom," the assassination was only one step away from Manhattan. "Her death is a reminder that terrorism anywhere-whether in New York, London, Tel Aviv or Rawalpindi-is an enemy of freedom," he said in a statement. "We must redouble our efforts to win the terrorists' war on us." Even her neighbor in her exile home of London had something to say on his blog about the "smart, sophisticated woman" he met on morning walks in the park.

Political analysts rave about the beauty and strength of Ms. Bhutto and how she would have saved Pakistan from its now unavoidable obliteration. I don't believe that. A nation cannot be saved by one person. Bush, of course, is out to prove the opposite - that a nation can be destroyed by one person. I digress.

And then of course there's the Al Qaeda, who "dropped hints" in an obscure website that they knew about all this. Translation on national TV world over - "In a recent development in the Bhutto Assassination, infamous militant outfit Al-Qaeda has reportedly taken responsibility for the attack on Ms Bhutto that led to her death. ABC News(sorry thats a real channel)...XYZ News back with more on the story after these messages."

But what struck me the most was the opinion of the Pakistani expatriates. One pakistani chef who owns a "curry" shop in New York and whose children have been born and brought up there commented, "What becomes now of how people see us in USA? When 9/11 happened, they thought all bearded men were Osamas. Now they will assume all Pakistanis are assassins. What kind of country should we ask our children to be proud of? What national identity shall we ask them to stand up for?" That simple perception of this potboiler was so much more meaningful than anything any man in a black tie at a podium with a fancy embossed logo had bothered emoting.

Where, in all this, is the poor woman herself? She was not a war hero by any means. But she was a real woman. Who was born into political royalty. Groomed in the International Debating Halls of Radcliffe and Oxford. The throne of Prime Minister-ship was bequeathed to her twice, first at the tender age of 35 and then again after 6 years. Tenures that cost her 2 brothers. A woman who in a Times of India Sunday Review, talked nostalgically and with equal ease of her "campaigning days", the "double death blow" in her family, her "rock and roll concert at Cambridge", her "boyfriends in college days" and her "persona change" each time she set foot on native soil." She was one of those rare people who rather than being bogged down by family name, picked up the reins and stood for more than she needed to. Who returned to her country, desperate to use her degrees in International Diplomacy and State Studies in a country that needed it badly. But her always rouged cheeks, immaculate designer coats worn over silk traditional salwar-kameez and dupatta-covered glossy hair never betrayed the passion that she had for Pakistan. The lady had guts. And that perhaps is the reason we all feel her loss. Not as a political figure, but as a woman who bridges the gap between English speaking secular us and the third world. Us and a condemned dictatorial state. Us and a suspected Islamic terrorist harbor. She went to the people she wanted to help because she could. Not because she had to. Above all she spoke out - despite being in mortal danger, despite being a woman in an Islamic world - for something she believed in. Despite all our advantages, that is something most people, irrespective of last name, academic accolades or gender - find it hard to do in their life. She was the real deal.

Once the dust has settled and the half baked theories are over, there will remain the question of the "survived by". Benazir Bhutto (1953 - 2007) is survived by three children and a husband The children have mostly remained in anonymity till now while the husband has played second fiddle to his wife very successfully during her career without any publicly known marital damage. I cannot begin to imagine how her immediate family will ever develop a national identity when the very whisper of their surname will, for years to come, haunt their lives. Ostracized by their own people, they will find themselves marooned emotionally. Above all else, above the concerned current and contesting political leaders, above even the people of The Islamic Republic of Pakistan, my heart goes out to these four. I wish them strength. I wish them peace. To Benazir Bhutto. A mother. A wife. A daughter. A former prime minister. And a formidable woman.

Make-my-Day

2007-12-27T17:35:00.000+11:00

Incredibly cute welcome mat inscription -

"This house is clean enough to be healthy
And dirty enough to be happy"

In the true tradition of the Fish Philosophy (check out the lil movie How FISH! Culture Works (wma) on the green bar on the right if u do click on this), I have decided to randomly post the pearls of wisdom like this one, that I pick up along my day. These shall be duly posted under the title Make-my-Day. You can then simply access them via the "MMD" link on the label-wise-organized blog archive (which I shall soon learn to do. And subsequently, actually do).

Right Here, Right Now

2007-12-24T18:57:00.000+11:00

5 objects of desire :

1. A chance at studying English Literature
2. A ticket to India (I'm working on that one)
3. A chance at volunteering (that one too)
4. A chance at a world trip (haha i know)
5. A beautiful library

5 movies i must see in 2008:

1. sweeney todd - johnny depp. johnny depp. johnny depp. plus the macabre dahl touch.
2. the great debators - denzel AND debating
3. enchanted - for purely eye candy purposes :)
4. the assassination of jesse james - story. western setting. brad pitt.
5. the golden compass - a bit masochistical here, i just wanna know if im right when i say the makers cant match up to their earlier LOTR sucess, commercially or otherwise. although nicole kidman is capable of lifting any movie a notch or two, so lets hope im proven wrong. and then of course, there's the craig incentive...

5 movies i DON't want to see in 2008:

1. bee movie - but given my seinfeld obsessed mom...
2. p.s. i love you - cud u get more what-the-director-thinks-is-a-different-love-flick-but-so-ISNT meets unused-supertalented actress who is so gonna get the what-was-i-thinking-when- i-signed-this syndrome soon?
3. i am legend - i do not wish to spoil this legendary story from a legendary author for myself
4. the kite runner - see 3
5. Magnorium's Wonder Emporium

Christmas

2007-12-22T23:50:00.000+11:00

Warm
Even with cold antarctic winds chapping my cheeks raw
As I walk back home at 9pm with new blankets for the now colder nights
With the wind forcing me to catch my breath
Across the road
A stranger and I share a laugh
As her umbrella flips backward and breaks away
Calm
When in the middle of the thronging last minute gift buying rush
A mother steals a moment with her daughter over a Mall-Santa photograph
Fragrant
With the familiar turkey roast odour of a parents house
When I see children and grandchildren pull up in a driveway
Children reliving childhood memories
Evoked by the sight of Nanna in her huge apron
Hugging the little ones at the door
A quick glance, and knowing smile stolen at the hubby
Over the car roof.
Snuggly
With the feel of cool silken quilts against your body
And the anticipation of the warmth soon to come
Once the undercover warms up
Relaxed
That far away, loved ones are thinking of us
Just as we are thinking of them
Knowing that all will end well; that this year, too, has passed
For better or worse.

Yes indeed, its Christmas time.

2007-12-22T02:58:00.000+11:00

Things I Love:
1. Rain
2. Books
3. Diamonds in flower shapes
4. Hugs from close friends
5. Music
6. Drives
7. My sister
8. Travelling
9. Libraries / Bookshops
10. The colour orange
11. Long hot water showers
12. Children
13. A good start to the day

Things I Hate:
1. Fights and Tears
2. Selling electricity
3. Long distance
4. Self pity

Long Distance

2007-12-22T02:32:00.000+11:00

words on a screen
aren't hugs
smilies on a popup
aren't kisses
"love," as a sign off
isn't as warm
as having the person next to you

i know.

but if i admit it
it's real
the shortcomings
the miscommunication
no tangible emotion

change
what's changed
things have gone away
that's all
i haven't changed
not when you see what's changed around me
a lilt isn't a passport
a tilt isn't a nationality

i want for you to feel complete
i want for you to feel happy
but im not there to fill the void
and i feel like a mistreater
and i feel so, so guilty
bcoz im the reason no one else can be there either

loyalty is a scary thing
it threatens to push away
all else
all others
till there is just that one thing
and when it isn't there
you hate that very one thing
with your guts
and your life
coz there isn't much else left to hate
or love.
there isn't much else left, really.

i didn't know till you told me today
the familiar voice always so gay
i never dreamt you felt that way
you held up the facade
an impregnable wall
i knew you better than you knew yourself
that's what you used to say
(i'm sarcastically smirking at how cliched my words are sounding)
then was i fooling myself the past four weeks
or were you fooling yourself for the past four years?

you feel like its one way
i know what you feel
ive felt it often
please hold on
please believe
i will.
i do.

he will never read my blog
(he doesn't believe a person can write publicly and honestly)
why do i bother writing here
copying from my outbox
would be too personal
sending this to your inbox
would be too formal

someday, im going to regret writing this post on the WWW. hell, i don't care. goodnight melbourne.

Memoirs of a life just begun

2007-12-22T00:02:00.000+11:00

In the 80's a girl from a conservative Punjabi family brought up in Wales but college educated in India married an unassuming, reserved yet tenacious army officer. Three years later, they had their first daughter. The father being naturally inclined to indulgence and being the first grandchild on the maternal side, she grew up completey spoilt, as did her younger sister. They were brought up across many cities and towns in India, and quite a number in Europe as well (although she doesnt remember cause she was under 24 months of age but photos stand testament).

She grew up to be a bit different from parental expectations. Apart from a tumultuous two years of high school, she was also far more outspoken and non-academically inclined than her parents deemed suitable. All the same, they were proud of the strong family ties that held them together through thick and thin, a legacy that would hold the 4 strong in the years to come.

She mistakenly stumbled into engineering and even succesfully tumbled out of it with a degree. In doing so, she also met her best friend and life partner (two different people). Above all, she learnt what she was about, learnt that she wasn't as strong as she thougth she was, learnt that she was a little more feminine than she gave herself credit for and learnt to survive and be happy, no matter what or who was or wasn't around her. Learnt to slowly carve her dreams out and learnt to accept that certain things can only be healed with time. She learnt, the hard way, that you can't rush growing up.

Now, she is in Melbourne Australia, where her Mom and sister are with her trying to make a new life, hopefully a better one than they left behind. Even though she grew up criticizing the treatment of women and a million other things in India, she knew she belonged there. How, one cannot say. Maybe it was as the waters of a Goan beach washed between the toes of her sandy feet. Or as she chatted up a new mother from south india in the berth of the cramped 3-Tier Indian Railway Train. Or the fantastic joy she took in the sheer contrast of the country, and how it united in its celebration at 11pm when its cricket team won the world cup. Her patriotism was not nationalistic; she simply did not believe in blind love of any kind. She was never religious, thanks to the atheist and spiritual attitudes of her parents. But there was something about her country she loved. And would continue to love.

Now, that girl sits at a computer screen in a suburb of the Victorian capital, as the rain pours outside the venitian blinds of the living room, she can hear the TV blaring the story of the flsh flood in the city. She remembers flash floods back home. She remembers the smell of rain as she sat exasperated in the library making notes about some unintelligible telcommunications protocol. She remembers a lot of things,. And she smiles. She knows she'll be back. she knows that some friends will wait for her. And that some won't. Its alright. Some things are better enjoyed when you wait for them. Some people are worth the wait.

Welcome to my life.

An Elegant Proof

2007-10-20T16:25:00.000+10:00

As a child, before I even knew what an engineer was, I would enter my father's workroom at home and be amazed by the blinking lights, the little blue and red cylinders and cuboids, all fitted so precisely on a pretty green board. This was a time before the common man even knew what an IC was. And there was my father, working, measuring, soldering little things to create something. I did not know what it was or even what all of it meant. I once remember him calling out to me and asking for some graph paper, a protractor and two fine-tipped felt pens of contrasting colors. A week later, when I went to the room, my crude blue school graph pad sheets were covered with fine 0.075pt red and black lines that ran amok with an organized chaos the sheet. Even then, I could see that each line meant something, that it had taken pains to derive this drawing of exquisite clarity. And even at that age, it struck me how my father had so much elegance in his work (I have worked on PCBs and I probably am not enough 10% as organized and sure of my design s as he was fifteen years ago). And at that time, I knew, he would have made an amazing scientist. That what I heard from visiting families that he was a genius, that what my mother said about him being locked up for days in a room just working on a thesis, was true.

People say scientists are haphazard, eccentric. But I disagree. The people who are clear headed usually manage to translate it onto paper. In fact, handwriting experts and well as examination paper checkers will vouch for the fact that a person's handwriting is much more defined and consistent when he is firm and sure of purpose. I also believe that it leads to less rework, better and faster ways to get to the next step and helps you find the missing part of the puzzle when the pieces you already have are well laid out. Often, with students today, they end up re-inventing the wheel or simply not being able to solve complex problems because they are not even sure of the basics.

And I think that is what today's generation lacks. We do not teach our children approach. We teach them to get at the answer. I do not know how many times I look back on my old work and wish I had been more lucid and made less havoc on those sheets of paper. It is something that translates into your notes as well. My father, as well as a friend's father (who is a doctor) have crystal clear notes, color coded, underlined, that take you from basic principles to the highest level of complexity.

I remember an incident that is attributed, I do believe, to Einstein. He said to a student who wanted to show him some work he has been working on, "Son, go from the beginning, and do slow down. I'm not that fast a thinker."

I have often found that people who are deliberate speakers, ones who take forever to pick up a subject we think we have mastered just because we've understood it, are the ones who have understood the human mind. They know to learn is to turn the concept over in your head. To form a couple of conclusions, to divert and come to the same conclusion as a sort of double proof. And we often underestimate these people.

Completely unrelated, but I do wish I would be able to write disconnected from my thoughts. I am not a plagiarist, but yes, I write after inspiration. I do wish I could write from threads of philosophy that are devoid of fragments of what is happening around me. I do believe that is true creativity, not the mere symbolism and 'art imitates life' kind of writing (esp. in Indian fiction) that is selling on the fiction stands today. This is especially true of Indian fiction. To give a trite description is not fiction, its just narration.

The day I can do that, I think I will be ready to be a writer. Maybe its good God put that dream of mine on hold. I have so much to learn.

Sorry seems to be the Hardest word

2007-10-08T21:01:00.000+10:00

Death of a friendship is perhaps more painful when it is least painful. Because it makes you realise that you are little less emotional than you think, a little more stoic than you hoped to me. Part of this stoicism comes from my innate ability to recognize certain emotions as a result of an upcoming change, and to block it till I have the time and emotional capacity to deal with it. But what amazes me is my ability to deal with it, unblock it part by part, analyze and cope with it, by myself, quietly. It amazes me because by nature I am a pretty vocal person. I'm the kind of person who, when asked by Frasier Crane, "Do you ever have an unexpressed thought?" (ref Season2 Episode 11), replies, "No, and why should I?".

Is it a part of growing up? That not even the people closest to you will know when you encountered, blocked, stocked, unblocked and resolved a problem. All the while you keep doing life's day to days...

I'm not trying to sound like a saint. I'm shocked at myself. I truly am. And its not altogether a pleasant surprise. Because although it means I can take in more, it also means I need to express less. And sometimes, that's not a change too many friendships can handle. Especially 4 year long ones. Especially ones that were built on us dealing wth and listening to each other's problems at the end of the day, no matter how trivial. That were based on never thinking about whether one should bother the others with such a trivial bout of emotion

But that's what it is right. It's just emotion.

Too many times, I give in just because its easier, not because I was wrong. This time, I won't give in to the other party's definition of a mistake. I won't feel guilty for not sharing emotions that run too deep for me to even admit to myself, for not justifying my sudden absence with remedial actions. I won't try and explain that what they think I feel and the limitations what they think I understand about them, both are being limited by their vision. I don't owe anyone a statement of how I feel. I decide if I want to share it. There is such a thing as private grief.

Dawn of the Dead

2007-09-21T19:35:00.000+10:00

Programmers are inherently a bit violent aren't they? ThreadDeath, kill process, destroy, spawn....

Why not isValid, createThread, shutDown etc? Perhaps that's one of the reasons people find the Unix/Java commands/syntax "intuitive" - we're an insensitive bunch of *. Welcome to the new millenium, where college gaming junkies reluctantly planted into programmers' seats insist on spreading the madness one $bash at a time.

A Day in the Life

2007-09-20T22:55:00.001+10:00

At the bus stand everyday, I meet a man in his mid-twenties, sight deficient, from a fairly well-to-do educated family, accompanied by one of his family members. Everyday, they help him get on a bus that is filled tighter than a pack of sardines with regulars who mostly recognize each other, mostly lower working class. Everyday, the person who happens to be sitting on the first seat gets up or is made to get up and he is aided till he is comfortably seated there.

I was at the university to get some certificates made. The university is quite close to my workplace I spoke to a father who had taken a day's leave and driven down half way across town to get his son's transcripts made. The son works in the building next to mine in a company which, I'll have you know, is not that demanding.

OMG

2007-09-19T17:06:00.000+10:00

So here's another simply despicable instance of plagiarism - my favourite college song after Summer of 69 (duh!) has been marred, maligned, slandered, warped and destroyed much to my indignation by uncaring Bollywood. And this was done, judging by the song style at least a decade ago. The original - Europe's The Final Countdown. The plagiarized Hindi song - Mere sawalon ka jawaab do naa.

I have a couple of questions for the composer, who I am sure bears the initials A.M.

PS : This is my first blog via email feed. In view of the next few months, which I know are going to consist of long, tough days, and the fact that I end up spending too much time on too many blogs when I get down to posting one blog, I have decided this is the way to go about it now.

Today's Random Observations

2007-09-18T23:55:00.000+10:00

1. Mobiles are scary scary scary things! They really can cook your brain. Here's proof. Only headphones and gtalk for me now. Jaxtr looks interesting too.
2. Airforce officers aren't a happy lot. I watch 3 buses full of them pass me by at 6 pm everyday and they look upset, angry, disillusioned. Just them or all defence personnel?

3. Bollywood item numbers have reached a new low. When I tuned into Radio Mirchi at 8 am to wake myself up, I found myself listening to these lyrics - "aao kushi se khudkhushi kar le"! salinger inspired? :)

4. Why do people feel men have short attention spans. They are condemning T20 series coz its not "real cricket". Pray how can test/one-day keep the attention of these men for so long if they claim not to be able to listen to "ranting" for more than 10 minutes?

5. I also heard the following advertisement: Man to salesgirl: I want to buy a kurta for my wife. Salesgirl : O here are some of the more popular pieces. Man : Um do you have something in a bigger size? My wife is kind of fat. Salesgirl : Aren't you ashamed of yourself, calling your own wife fat? Man : But she is... what can I do? Salegirl : Do? There's plenty you can do if you're a responsible husband. Take her to XYZ Slimming and Anti-Diabetic Centre. XYZ Slimming andAnti-Diabetic Centre...if you really care for your 'healthy near and dear ones'.

6. Nokia Aeon rocks. Ok so its just in concept stage currently, but it will be out soon, and it will rock.

7. The MotoRazr2 is here for 10k. Me want! I sound a bit technology crazed don't I? I'm sadly not as tech savvy as I sound.

8. Go upto a random person who is smoking. Chances are he drinks too. Go upto a random person who is drinking. There's barely a 1 in 4 chance he's a smoker. Once you drink, is smoking just stage 2?

Thoughts for Today

2007-09-18T23:50:00.000+10:00

1. Mobile phones are scary. only headsets for me from now on.

2. airforce offircers look sad in their buses as they head back home.
3. most smokers are drinkers too. not too many drinkers are smokers.
4. there is a song called 'aao khushi se khudkhushi kar le'. dont ask.
5. nokia aeon phones are awesome. or atleast they will be when they come out.

6. men are lying when they use the 'naturally short attention span' excuse. have you seen any woman complaining about T20? men had no problems watching one day/test. they hate T20s.

Waterfall Rapelling

2007-09-09T02:05:00.000+10:00

So the pics aren't out yet, but I went waterfall rappelling today. It was a voluntary thing, organized by the company. I saw the email and I knew I wanted to go. It was a bit sad that noone else in my department wanted to but what the hell. This trip was all about me anyway. No friends, no family, no commitments. Me, new people and lotsa water hitting me as I ventured down a rope, sun in my eye and adrelanine in my veins.. Heady enough for a Gemini. And although it had a rather boring start, IT WAS FUNNNN!
Set off some 0545 am (last time I saw dawn break was when I stayed up the entire night, never got up this early before) bundled myself in a sweatshirt n a wind cheater and off I went. I was to be part off 100 odd like minded adventure sport enthusiasts. The problem was - I knew none of them. No one from my class was going. Oh well, thats how you meet new people right?
The first people I met were a highly cute non-Mallu looking Mallu newly married couple, S & C. S was a pukka Delhiite type guy, from the sarcastic side of the humour family (is there really another other side?) from MDI, a famous management college in the country, and a maybe PG alma mater for me (I'm trying for it this year). So we got off to a good start conversation wise. C was an extremely reserved, very cute in a curly haired petite kinda way thing who I completely fell in love with.
After a 3 hour journey where most of the bus was catching up on their disturbed sleep, we stopped over at a lil place in the middle of nowhere (it really was - no service provider had network there!) for breakfast, it was back on the road. We reached our destination and that is where the madness began.
So we were supposed to have this training session, except we were running late. So we all simply climbed to the top of the waterfall and, encouraged by some rather awesome hooting(we could hear it over the waterfall!) the first guy in line was strapped up and set off down a 75 feet rocky waterfall with a rope to hold on to. Ok maybe I'm exaggerating the risk factor, but it was more fun that way!
Beside a lot of bruises n scrapes when we simply slipped off the rocks (its tough to stay perpendicular to a vertical cliff when your hanging by a rope!) , and one chap who incurred a rather nasty gash on his jaw, we were doing quite well. And then it was my turn.
By now I had befriended quite a couple of colleagues who were rather amused that I, a trainee, who did not even know the full forms of the abbreviations they used when giving their departments during the introductions, was there at all. )Trainees are considered non entities everywhere!). Also, I made the smart-alec mistake of giving a smug smile to C n saying "See you on the other side" just as she, shivering with trepidation, was about to be let down. So I was under a bit of..er..performance pressure.
I gotta go have dinner now..Wait for the next installment of this terribly named blog entry to know how my first experience in adventure sports went.

Provoked

2007-09-07T01:04:00.000+10:00

Provoked
The “American Citizen” sitting on the sofa
By bombarding anti-Islamic messages
Into believing he is a soldier in the Iraq war
That he is above citizens in all other nations.

Provoked
The anti reservationist middle class youth
By the media
Into keeping your guard up
When someone less privileged
Asks for a favour.

Provoked
A naive girl walking home from school
Into being a feminist
Who will never even give a good man a chance
By the roadside romeos whistling as she passes everyday

Provoked
A man who once respected women
Into being a possessive crazed husband
By his first love
Who betrayed him

In a world of crime and immorality
Its easy to be provoked
Its easy to harden yourself
Its easy to be an anti-establishment iconoclast
Try being okay with being forgiving
Try being okay with being vulnerable
Try being better than your circumstances
And what they should have made you.

Painfully Human

2007-09-07T01:03:00.000+10:00

There are things no one should know about you. There are things that will remind them – painfully – that you are in fact a normal human, with faults weaknesses and needs as anyone else. And suddenly, they hate you for it. Especially so if they have either suppressed or have been unable to suppress that same weakness in themselves.

There are things that should be mutually understood. Especially if you would not like someone to do it to you. For instance, if you are a raving mad possessive, then you don’t make “innocent” jokes saying that you may get close to so and so person, even if the other person claims to be the non green eyes types.

There are dreams best kept to you. Those disgusting dreams where you wake up feeling sick to the stomach about how awfully real the dream was. How you are glad it wasn’t real. And how you are very very aware that it wouldn’t take much for them to be. And already, you hate the people involved for the fact that they could act that way. Because you know they actually could. And if you tell them the dream, they assume you think of them that way. That they have been judged by your subconscious. And in their subcionscious, they will judge you for that.

There are people who shouldn’t ever expect someone to understand them completely, all the time. Completely at a given moment- yes. That’s what magical moments of friendship and love are all about. The one night where you revealed all. But completely all the time. Nuh, uh, not happening. Don’t blame the other person – he’s only human. Aren’t we all? Don’t we all act on provocation, suddenly defending the very things we knew to be wrong just a few days ago and wondering, why did I do that? Or worse, why did I confide in him/her, assuming that the understanding would last forever. Sometimes you actually harm the relationship more. The person is too aware of too many things to see you as a person. He sees too much, reads too much into simple things, things which he/ she herself might defend were they to do the same in a different scenario.

But that is human error. The error of inconsistency. Non- linearity.
Same situation + different person = different reaction.
Same situation + same person + different time = different reaction.

Vicious Circle

2007-09-07T00:59:00.000+10:00

Round and round
On a cruel carousel
Lets see if you can not fall again
My moods traverse
My centre not sure
Where to place itself
Pulled n a million directions
Time seems to be zooming past me
Leaving me to pick up the pieces
Of a future I cant change
Running to stay still.
Running.
Running.
I used to like running.
When I was very small.

Distance

2007-09-07T00:58:00.001+10:00

Distance…

..is what has come between him and me
Over three years of finding each others weaknesses
Through the others’ words spoken in offensive self defence.

..is how far my newest goal seems to be
After five years of aiming and falling
Just a little bit short of the perfection I sought.

..is how I never want my child to feel
When her mother is fighting a dirty war
In an ergonomic office in a spotless white business suit.

..is what I can see in the future for my family
As they fall into stereotypes of an urban household
Held together by invisible waves in a tele-connected world.

..is what these pretty girls’ faces so dear to me will inevitably feel
When we sit across each other ten years hence
Talking of these days where we spoke of everything
B’coz there’ll be nothing else to talk of.

..is how far away Coming of Age used to seem to be
Till today morning when I woke up to him beside me
I know I must live with him all my life now
And so does he.

Untitled

2007-09-07T00:51:00.000+10:00

who knows what happens next.
moods play on.
time passes slow.
we dont run the show.
we get frustrated, it doesnt feel right.
its not as if we could handle the floor
but we still want to hold the night.
friends sing along.
family isnt always wrong.
but maybe we dont value the promise of forever
its overshadowed by the reality of a physical buffer.
but...

..but a lot of things, i guess.

jobs
work
family
friends
me
my love
my search for a passion
my obsession with what i currently think is my passion

life
is hard
even when its all smooth
what do u do with smoothness
its dull
an insult to your capability to cope
but rough roads we must lament to You.

im going back to knowing myself.
salvaging my life.
choosing my life.
it feels good.
it was not as good earlier.
cause this time its tougher.

time wasted is just unregretted introspection.
it feels like...welcome fresh air.
new.
it feels new.
new is good.

practicality vs. ideals
moods vs. practicality

Scattered thoughts...

2007-09-05T00:49:00.000+10:00

I'm a compulsive writer. If you look through my things, you'll find scribbles on everything, from the last-page-of notebook standard student fare to obscurely named .txt files in odd places on my PC (both work and home!). And this despite the fact that I have a diary, several close friends' as sounding boards, an organizer, a blog and a webpage on writing.com! When a friend decided to format her comp, I actually had to pick up 3 pieces of writing I'd left on her comp!

My point is this. A person's thoughts are so concurrently varied, fleeting and amoebic, its impossible to encapsulate them. some of the potentially best pieces of our writing remain unwritten. Simply because the first line, captured vividly as we see something on a bus ride home, gets morphed into something much plainer by the time we reach, or sometimes, completely disappears from the mind.

If we're lucky, we'll remember the subject and may be we'll be able to capture the essence, if not the mood and flavor, later. Worse still, you're helping a friend write a statement of purpose for his MS applications and you get this spot of sheer bleeding brilliance, see, a clincher of an opening line, but at that exact moment your interactive-pedagogy-believing bugger of an instructor decides to ask you to explain the algorithm. So long UCLA.

But thankfully, there is one place yet, where, despite it never actually going down as permanent, your thoughts do reach their purpose - when you are talking to other people. When your thoughts flow fluid, with no nuance (that may have been escaped when writing) going unexpressed, when the mood makes sure that it claims its true meaning down to the last stressed syllable. I still remember a friend of mine saying to me - "(insert my name here), you know what's sad about this world? Advice is free. And no one needs a license to dole it. That's why idiots give it out and even bigger idiots don't appreciate it when its worthwhile.

That was Readers' Digest Quotable Quotes material, but she probably doesn't even remember saying it.

But I do.

And that's the point of all creative expression. That there's an audience that cares, an audience that it affects, negatively or positively. Art for the sake of it is art. Like parallel cinema that only the producers actually 'get'. But an audience turns art to writing. To artistry. To longevity. If only in the haze of a receiver's brain.

Love in the time of Cholera (yes its cliched get the smile off your face)

2007-09-04T22:56:00.000+10:00

what is it with this modernization that frees up all barriers of sex but disallows a pure love from existing amongst the leather couches of night clubs? new age boons of overseas jobs and girls who want to work and want their husbands to stay at home. an epidemic of heartbreak has made the souls of youngsters completely immune to the joys of a simple, beautiful romance. call me old fashioned but i think the beauty of a courtship is in the words said face to face, is in simply leaving a lipstick kiss on the morning bathroom mirror, not a :X in an sms. is in simply smiling through the warmth of your eyes, a slight blush when you're given a compliment, not writing :D 2 sec later over a web cam.its great for keeping in touch, this technology, but it just ruins romance.

they call themselves free. open relationships.free love. ya right. whats free about determining whether your love is real by discussing it with the psychiatrist you go to cause your first relationship left you 'unable to commit.' maybe you can't feel real love because years of just living immunizing yourself against the jerks who are your rebounds and the guys you slept with cause you needed to get a fuck.

maybe its time to let it not be an insult when you say to your dad - please don't be so 18th century. any woman who is true to herself will realize she still loves the carriage door being held open to her rather than standing in a bus 'cause of equal rights', just as any man who is true to his manhood and not afraid of being called a chauvinist will realize he loved the days when he could pay for all the dinners, when he could know that the woman needed his chest to hide into when she just needed warmth. its not really all that contradictory. a woman doesn't need to assert her rights to be respected. the man simply will. because she's a person, not because she's a woman. (the whole respect me cause i'm a woman and the harbinger of all humanity completely negates the equal rights thing anyway, because you don't see anyone saying "well respect him because he's a man" - new age feminists aren't fighting for equal rights, they're fighting for superiority of women. a true woman respects both sexes equally, so does a gentleman).

it comes down to this. the battle of the sexes is because of the redefinition of the roles a man and woman are capable of playing in society. and to see who's is more important. that was never a problem before cause both could win. cause the fields were different. women won all the battles behind closed doors. they were satisfied purring docile kitties in front of others simply because they were happy that the man gave her her due in private. men were the only contenders for the battles outside the home.

in todays world, the battlefields clash. so now its man against woman. and man against man. and woman against woman. three battles.

i feel bad for the men. its tough being sensitive and tough and ambitious and family oriented... its easy being a woman. you just blame all your problems on PMS, the new age liberated woman's scapegoat for all the daily superwoman faux pas (faux pae? what is the plural of faux pas?). and then, the man, who knows hell will break loose if he tries to argue, says "you're right dear, you are a superwoman, you can do everything - just not for one fourth of the month".

and these poor metro sexual men are then supposed to be sissies if they 'talk about their feelings' while girls blabber to their free therapist - their best friend..or worse, every man's nightmare(the only reason he listens to all of the above crap from the woman) - another man!

Musings of a girl considering Heartbreak.

2007-09-04T22:50:00.000+10:00

Wrote this long ago when mostly everyone close to me was getting to me with their know it all attitude-

i drove it into my own skin
with the expectations i raised for us
but you turned it for me
so tell me, when i leave
will you have the decency to blame yourself?

they tell us love passes all tests
so now im hoping the grading is alphabetically backwards

page up, page down,
delete, restore,
left arrow and right arrow,
but you're still on the same screen darling
try pressing ctrl first.

recap

2007-08-13T23:58:00.000+10:00

been a month. long time. seems longer. and yet it seems like time is all set to speed up even more in the near future. till december anyway.

learnt a couple of things while trying to help set up house. never never undermine the small ones - the guards, the maids, the newspaper guys. never throw banana peel in a lidless dustbin. never ever assume that even email is efficient and reliable. call your family. pick your battles. and when you do fight em fair.

other than that, life is quite interesting. quite refreshing. figuring out much more than i bargained more, not so much about some of the things i did want to find out about though.
and for a change it seems to be bending towards what i planned for the day more than it used to. im getting the perfect blend of time alone as well as with loved ones. guess lady luck finally remembered me! my karma finally caught up with me. all this above mentioned philosophy's probably just junk. i guess this is just a result of the fact that im working now and working life rocks eh?

life is good, ladies and gentlemen.
and instead of analysing it, i intend to enjoy every minute of it.
happy independence day, indeed.

N7W : Not 7 cents worth

2007-07-10T03:34:00.000+10:00

I thought I was the only one. And I'll be honest, I almost gave in. But the sunday times' article 'phoney patriotism' had me let go of the beads of guilt building over my fingertips at not SMSing my everlasting love for the Taj. Commercial it was, we all knew that. But what shocked me even more was the absolute madness it managed to evoke wasn't any different from the SMS blitzkreig that made the Jessica Lall case come to justice, that made the reservation deal so big in Delhi. At that time, I too was a vociferous SMSer - so now I wonder, was I just a pawn in NDTV's campaign to get the 'news channel that is really of the people' tag. Who's to say how much has been real about the other stories which I did support? God knows they play the card way too often what with prannoy Roy's humourless attempts at an RKLaxman style satire and Barkha Dutt's sickeningly overhyped stories that resemble emotional Ekta Kapoor mini-series more than a hard-hitting piece that everyone thinks it is.

I've been to the Taj Mahal and yes, its, well, nice. But not worthy of what the pyramids are. Not remotely.

What we have now is – and my apologies to blogger.com – push button patriotism. SMS a four digit number now and you can misquote your tax, you can ignore the HelpAge India drop box at the lifestyle cash counter as you pay your 1000 rupees bill, you can throw that bhutta peel on the road…

Makes me wonder what else nowadays is just a quick way to rid us of guilt. We strive for personalized attention for our children in schools because we can’t provide it to them ourselves, we spend hefty prices in malls on our wardrobes and our interior decorations for that ‘unique flea market’ ethnic look but I have never been to a single village in my life! How can I even judge the authenticity of it?

My point is this – its too uniform. All malls in all cities look the same. All kids listen to the same music. Its come to a point where the Home Décor store has readymade room layouts. You pick one, and the entire room – from the wall colours to the painting above the left sofa to the TV wall unit – is transported to your home. So now we can visit another person’s home only to find their bedroom is EXACTLY like ours. Creepy eh?

Patriotism too has come under the same dilemma. Everyone just wants a brand name of patriotism. So when the media tells us a quick way, we do it. Each Indian can contribute to India in a different way. Some simply by starting an aditya birla or an abused woman’s home, some by being a school teacher and some by being a face for India on the internet. Small or big, its different. And a nation like India can thrive only on diversity in patriotric expression. Cause India is bigger than the Taj. Much bigger.

This world of globalisation has perhaps robbed the world of what made us different.

United Colors of Benetton. All seems black now. Uniformly black.

i'm about to come Alive

2007-06-17T03:06:00.000+10:00

We're packing up.
My mom to pursue a life down under. My sister to start college. Me to start work. The lease is signed. The flights are booked. The trunks are being hauled out and filled with first date restaurant bills, books bought for dirt cheap prices off roadsides, first year engineering graphics drafters that took us a month and four ruined A3 sheets to learn how to use, boiler suits reminiscent of spending hours grinding a metal piece into a symmetrical hexagon with the metallic smell of fine metal dust and visions of the sweaty guy opposite you making you hope you don't look as disgustingly filthy!
Last night i was accused of having lost my passion for life. For a girl like me, that's a very strong accusation to make because its passion and not plans that make me live from day to day. I'm still wondering what happened. Why i suddenly find it difficult to make conversations with friends who could once chat with me for hours, why i end up thinking she's already told me this story the moment one of my friends start up a flashback narrative. still, i listen (its a cardinal rule amongst girlfriends - you always listen, no matter how repetitive!).
Have i become uninteresting? Have all my friends(seems unlikely!)? Has the world disinterested me?
God knows. For now, i pack, i move and i work. And then someday, I think why the girl who'd dress up anytime for a good time suddenly feels a shiver of apprehension when dusk falls, or when the night demands too much energy from me.
But to a special friend, I'll say but this. Give me some time. I promise, I'll get back to what I was. I just need to find a way to balance my old self with a new found shadow of reality that has crept over my heart.
It seems to me i'm just passing through.
< Remember when we first met
And everything was still a bet
In love's game
You would call; I'd call you back
And then I'd leave
A message
On your answering machine
I think that you came too soon
You're the honey and the moon
But right nowEverything is turning blue,
And right now
The sun is trying to kill the moon,
And right now
I wish I could follow you
To the shores
Of freedom,
Where no one lives>

Lachrymation

2007-06-17T01:41:00.000+10:00

It comes down to this
At the end of a day
Exactly like the one before
When you walk out of the bathroom
On a very very routine day
When the shiver of your wet hair
Catches you
As it runs down the nape of your neck
To soak the first inch of the towel that drapes you
When unbeckoned
Unbidden
The tears come
Threaten to threaten your breathing
As they cascade into no longer swallowable convulsions
From the very base of your throat
Into uncontrollable spasms
Who do you call?
Who will not judge?
Who will not need a reason?
Who will not be foolish enough
To say it'll be alright?
Because it won't, you know.

the biggest mistake

2007-06-17T01:39:00.000+10:00

the biggest mistake we make in life is confusing comfort for happiness. the strange part is, unhappy and confortable people still don't realise it.

When I Look to the Sky

2007-06-17T01:04:00.000+10:00

this one goes out to all you engineers who were dying to get out of college and then realised on the last day of college - no, not that you didn't want to leave - i still do - that you didn't feel jubilant. you didn't feel equipped to 'take on the world'. you didn't feel that you even deserved it.

hell, you hardly felt anything.

i'll admit part of it could be that i still have my albastrossian project to complete but mostly i wonder if i have achieved anything more than a degree. i've changed, but that was more of a time thing than a college thing. have i plucked enough courage to do what i want? have i tried enough crazy things that will become impossible for me to try as i wade my unwilling way into prim corporate staidness? have i paraglided? bungee jumped? finally told that creep off? done something illegal? do i have secrets not even my best friends should know (actually, yes to that one)?

i recently joined this site called 43things.com where you just type in 43 things you wanna do, from touring the world (redundant to say so since max ppl are on that list, but so do i!) to buying your mom a car. a classmate of mine who had the option of going abroad for his MS recently made the decision to simply cool off at home for the next one year and pick up all the skills he didn't have time to learn in college. a friend's friend decided to take a loan from his dad and pursue his dream of being a journalist. one of my dad's friends left the army at the age of 40 and is now a TV journalist with NDTV. it seems around me that dreams are being shaped, rainbows chased, lives lived.

and yet all i can say is, someday, when the time is right. someday, when i don't end up hurting someone i love. i know i'm entitled. i know i can right now. unfortunately, i also know what's stopping me.

i wish i could say i didn't care. that i would years from now be under red gunpowder filled skies, with shells tearing the side of my tent, with me sending off the draft for tomorrow's daily. i'm a strong believer that we haven't lived till we've seen how collously people die. that's when you know that the price of a human life is just equivalent to the victims's currency against the U.S. dollar.

but for now, i'm sitting on a friend's desktop in a comfy lil hostel, with thoughts read by probably only two other homosapiens, with more time to spare than i know what to do with, with a wait for my struggle that is beginning to wear me out. its like waiting for a train that's the only way out, except you have no freaking idea of the departure time. or date. or year.

To a person with serious problems, this is going to sound just outright arrogant. But I have had too cushy a life. Nothing I have wanted has ever been denied to me. I made all my own decisions, right from taking up engineering to colouring my hair. The wrong and the right. My dad wanted to give me the old car. I instinctively declined exclaiming, why would you want to spoil a 21 year old with a car for god's sake?

Instinct tells you things you'd never admit to yourself.

The Morning After

2007-06-12T08:07:00.000+10:00

Off again. Set off to check out one more place (for 'tassalee') and then finalise that house. ended up seeing two houses(surprise surprise) cause the first one was a 1 BHK (its ok even the broker didn't know that till he opened the door to what he thought was the entrance to the 2nd bedroom and it came way (the entire door) in his hands to reveal that it was in fact a verandah). The second place was a filthy but beautifully constructed house where 5 boys lived. Toothbrushes on the sink, tongue cleaners hanging over the tap itself. Cigarettes all over, a stashed portrait of boy and girlfriend visible in half open cupboard. Location bad. Rent high.
We were meant to take the other house. Why fight fate? So we went, met the owner, saw the house in the day (it still looked as good) and two hours later, the deal was made.
And so, ladies and gentlemen "anon-alphabet/anon-number, anon-colony-name" is now 'my place'.
It feels good.
Also went and saw my company innards for the first place. It was much better than I had expected.
Life's looking pretty damn good right now.