Day: 29th May
Time: 10.25pm
I’ve been having really weird dreams lately. Most of my friends would know by now that I am very prone to having bizarre dreams but as of the past few days, my dreams have notched up to what even I would call extremely extraordinary.
I find that simple fact usually is proof enough to illustrate the above.
Dream #1: Dreamt I was a ‘Polka-Dot Managing Executive’ of Party-Party Entertainment Co. I was in charge of managing the distribution of Polka-Dots before the party and other technical details that included the size, colour and ‘vibrating frequency’ of each Polka-Dot.
Comment: I have no idea where the Polka-Dot thang came from but the vibrating frequency thing is definitely an O.C thing.
Dream #2: Dreamt I was Rama crossing over to Sri Lanka on the stone path built in the ocean. Was accompanied by Sita (!!!), Durga and Pooja. Also Hanuman was flying overhead and wiping the sweat on his head with this hairy tail.
Comment: Why in hell was I going to Sri Lanka when Sita was with me? Durga and Pooja are not Goddesses, but in fact, are two very hot sisters who live in Colombo. They are pretty popular and the elder sister, Durga, owns one of the finest waffle places in Colombo. Hanuman and his sweaty tail? Don’t ask me!
Dream #3: Dreamt I was amongst some really beautiful Russian men and women sitting in one of their castles in Moscow, you know one of those groovy ones with the minarets et al. I was drinking shot after shot of neat Vodka and it was burning down my throat but I was enjoying it all. Then the dream gets fuzzy and the next thing I remember is sitting outside the house eating snow and my tears freezing in my eyes and me going blind.
Comment: A very normal one for me. Although it wasn’t a dream really; no one likes going blind! Duh. But I do remember reading that this happens quite often in Russia.
Dream #4: Dreamt that I was on a carousel and I was thrown off and landed on the sets of the Oprah Winfrey show. She was interviewing Karan Johar and Simi Garewal and I was this fly on the wall, vowing to be on the show one day.
Comment: Sigh. A tell-tale sign of overdosing on Star World?
Dream #5: Dreamt I was popping acid at Zouk. Anonymous sex. Earth-shattering, ear-pounding, soul-shuddering, limb-shivering ejaculation.
No comment.
Monday, May 30, 2005
agatha wasn't lying.. and neither was star plus
Real life is every bit as treacherous and sinister as all those movies and television programs make it out to be. Why do I say this, considering that I am relatively untouched by scandal, treachery, and betrayal? I have actually been caught up in one or two ‘scandals’ that were blown way out of proportion but they never really paralleled the mother or all inventions, pun intended, the television. Anyway, my life is so not the point here.
There has been a murder in the Sindhi community. My mother is acquainted with the lady who died. Apparently, the victim’s sister in law had been poisoning her with god-knows-what (arsenic, perhaps?) for a long time. She had been losing weight and people had finally noticed that she was practically wasting away. On the day of the victim’s daughter’s birthday, the sister in law had forced the poor lady to drink a cup of coffee (or tea; details get mixed up) so that she could attend the daughter’s birthday. At the party, the lady had fainted and by the time the ambulance came she was dead. An autopsy was done and there strong traces of some unpronounceable poison in her blood.
Well, this is slightly complicated. Apparently, the sister in law was sleeping with the victim’s husband. Let me make this relationship clearer to you.
Victim married Husband1 whose brother is Husband 2 who is married to Killer.
So according to the sources, which are almost always undeniably correct, the victim had seen her husband and the sister in law in action and she had been got rid off before she had told Husband2.
Exciting right? I find there are major loopholes in this particular bit of speculation/distorted fact.
*Why the slow death process then? Maybe it was just the rumour of the slow death and whoever tried to kill her wanted to do it one shot.
*Why was the sister in law arrested and not the husband? Maybe she is at fault because she made the cup of coffee but surely, the husband might have been involved? I find it difficult to believe that the sister in law was doing this alone. It is possible however.
*Couldn’t she have killed herself? I mean, if the victim had just seen her husband getting it on with the sister in law, then suicide surely can’t be ruled out of the equation?
*Why the stupidity of killing her through poison? I mean Husband2 would definitely know NOW that his wife was a slut and his brother was a bastard right? Maybe the administration of the dose was overshot by way too much.
There is only one thing to be sure of at this point of time, a lady died of an overdose of poison. It sounds so stupid when you say overdose because, why would you take poison recreationally? I mean even if it is 1millilitre or less, isn’t that an overdose to? Whatever, I must stop now because I am very aware of how bimbotic I sound. Aww shucks.
My mother told me this story with the requisite amounts of sympathy for the victim and the family (the non-killers at least) but she didn’t really emote fright or shock or anything what I felt. I asked her why.
Mum: Oh these things are so common.
Me: WHAT? On Star Plus maybe!
Mum: Please, where do you think Ekta (??!!) gets her ideas from? REAL LIFE! Don’t be dumb, open your eyes.
Me: Aiyo! What rubbish! Don’t talk lies
Mum: Don’t believe me!! How do you think Chandra died? Her aunt took her to the terrace and stabbed her
Me: omigod
I heard about this story. Chandra was this 14 year girl who got stabbed by her aunt because everyone thinks the aunt was mad or the girl had seen her doing something which she shouldn’t have been doing. Probably a man or three.
Can you believe it? We are in the Sindhi community and where I do realize this does not in any circumstance give us an exception over the rule, the rule being that crime exists everywhere, I did not expect at all for it to be so close to home. I do have a bit more respect for the now not-so-hysterical-and-overacted programs my mum watches every night.
I really am a prude to be shocked at what should be a very mundane and everyday thing. Disgrace befalls me.
I’m wondering if I can bring up this argument to fight an arranged marriage proposal that might come my way. I’ll be like, ‘ma, please, don’t want. Look at what happened to victim and killer sister in law!!’ I’d rather not you know considering that the killer-sister in law marriage might be one of the few Sindhi marriages that were NOT arranged. Then I would really be screwed but why am I even talking about arranged marriage? I’ve got bigger problems than that!!
But anyway, I hope by next week I won’t be talking about murders at the vicarage and little Belgian men walking about my street.
There has been a murder in the Sindhi community. My mother is acquainted with the lady who died. Apparently, the victim’s sister in law had been poisoning her with god-knows-what (arsenic, perhaps?) for a long time. She had been losing weight and people had finally noticed that she was practically wasting away. On the day of the victim’s daughter’s birthday, the sister in law had forced the poor lady to drink a cup of coffee (or tea; details get mixed up) so that she could attend the daughter’s birthday. At the party, the lady had fainted and by the time the ambulance came she was dead. An autopsy was done and there strong traces of some unpronounceable poison in her blood.
Well, this is slightly complicated. Apparently, the sister in law was sleeping with the victim’s husband. Let me make this relationship clearer to you.
Victim married Husband1 whose brother is Husband 2 who is married to Killer.
So according to the sources, which are almost always undeniably correct, the victim had seen her husband and the sister in law in action and she had been got rid off before she had told Husband2.
Exciting right? I find there are major loopholes in this particular bit of speculation/distorted fact.
*Why the slow death process then? Maybe it was just the rumour of the slow death and whoever tried to kill her wanted to do it one shot.
*Why was the sister in law arrested and not the husband? Maybe she is at fault because she made the cup of coffee but surely, the husband might have been involved? I find it difficult to believe that the sister in law was doing this alone. It is possible however.
*Couldn’t she have killed herself? I mean, if the victim had just seen her husband getting it on with the sister in law, then suicide surely can’t be ruled out of the equation?
*Why the stupidity of killing her through poison? I mean Husband2 would definitely know NOW that his wife was a slut and his brother was a bastard right? Maybe the administration of the dose was overshot by way too much.
There is only one thing to be sure of at this point of time, a lady died of an overdose of poison. It sounds so stupid when you say overdose because, why would you take poison recreationally? I mean even if it is 1millilitre or less, isn’t that an overdose to? Whatever, I must stop now because I am very aware of how bimbotic I sound. Aww shucks.
My mother told me this story with the requisite amounts of sympathy for the victim and the family (the non-killers at least) but she didn’t really emote fright or shock or anything what I felt. I asked her why.
Mum: Oh these things are so common.
Me: WHAT? On Star Plus maybe!
Mum: Please, where do you think Ekta (??!!) gets her ideas from? REAL LIFE! Don’t be dumb, open your eyes.
Me: Aiyo! What rubbish! Don’t talk lies
Mum: Don’t believe me!! How do you think Chandra died? Her aunt took her to the terrace and stabbed her
Me: omigod
I heard about this story. Chandra was this 14 year girl who got stabbed by her aunt because everyone thinks the aunt was mad or the girl had seen her doing something which she shouldn’t have been doing. Probably a man or three.
Can you believe it? We are in the Sindhi community and where I do realize this does not in any circumstance give us an exception over the rule, the rule being that crime exists everywhere, I did not expect at all for it to be so close to home. I do have a bit more respect for the now not-so-hysterical-and-overacted programs my mum watches every night.
I really am a prude to be shocked at what should be a very mundane and everyday thing. Disgrace befalls me.
I’m wondering if I can bring up this argument to fight an arranged marriage proposal that might come my way. I’ll be like, ‘ma, please, don’t want. Look at what happened to victim and killer sister in law!!’ I’d rather not you know considering that the killer-sister in law marriage might be one of the few Sindhi marriages that were NOT arranged. Then I would really be screwed but why am I even talking about arranged marriage? I’ve got bigger problems than that!!
But anyway, I hope by next week I won’t be talking about murders at the vicarage and little Belgian men walking about my street.
Friday, May 27, 2005
get out the champagne peoplez!!!
I am at the moment very giddy over the results of American Idol. Call me a loser I don’t care but CARRIE won! Yay! Bo was completely awesome too. In fact, the entire group of finalists this year was absolutely fantastic. It was very evident in the medley these guys did with their supposed idols… Carrie sounded sooo good with that unknown group! And Constantine, Jessica Sierra and Nadia reminded me how very offended we were when they were kicked out!!! Constantine especially! Carrie and Constantine in the finals was such a good prospect but Bo really did step it up! And oh yeah, fuck off, I still think Anwar is great!!!!!
CARRIE WON!!! YAY!
Ok, forgive me for this post! I had to do it! I’m sure not many people will know what the fuck I am talking about anyway!
Kansas Cow Indeed!!!$#%$#%
Song playin: I believe- Fantasia (i swear i did not plan it this way)
CARRIE WON!!! YAY!
Ok, forgive me for this post! I had to do it! I’m sure not many people will know what the fuck I am talking about anyway!
Kansas Cow Indeed!!!$#%$#%
Song playin: I believe- Fantasia (i swear i did not plan it this way)
Thursday, May 26, 2005
provincialities
Date: 26th May
Time: 12.54am
Song playing: Sober- Tool (omg)
Time: 12.54am
Song playing: Sober- Tool (omg)
GO CARRIE!
I know, I know, it’s been sooo long since I last updated. What to do, what to do, I am sooo busy. That’s pure cock! I’ve been doing nothing except being lulled into some sort of complacency that consists of HBO, Star Movies, AXN, Star World and even the damn Discovery channel! Since my sister is away having a ball of a time in Bangalore and Chennai, there is no need to vacate her room at 5.30pm which is about the time she comes home after work and tells me to fuck off.
Ah well, so I’ve just been doing nothing except watch TV. There is no truth in the age old saying ‘an idle mind is the devil’s workshop’ because cable TV has negated the need to be idle. Therefore idleness is just about effectively close to being obsolete. This means, that we are slowly becoming drones; machines that will perform only the most routine tasks such as cleaning oneself and making the obligatory trip to the repair shop, which since we are humans consists of making content our soul’s need for human contact and medicine. Speaking outside of the useless, convoluted world that I live in, that basically means, I wake up, clean myself and watch TV but from time to time venture outside with friends and make trips to the pharmacy on errands since I am still human and benevolent enough to keep my family well stocked with medicines and by implication, alive.
But let me touch on the highlights of the last few days. After Nadeeka’s birthday dinner, Sunday was a day in which we all recuperated and flushed out all the toxins that had, so miraculously, accumulated in our systems. I just laid about, like a beached whale on my couch, reading away to glory. I finished The Spell and started on Chetan Bhagat’s book on life at IIT, ‘Five Point Someone’. The story is about 3 students at IIT, who are the ‘best’ of friends and who come to pact that renounces studies in favour of enjoying the best days of their lives, which to them is being seriously screwed up by the brutal IIT system. The story’s amusing enough but people, come on, let us stop bitching about NUS. Compared to IIT, life at NUS is like being at a fucking spa. Of course, I have never been to a spa, but that is so not the point.
Monday was a national holiday because of Vesak. Now in Colombo, it was the day prior to Vesak so that means it is classified as a holiday. I love Vesak. It’s a time when all of Colombo comes out in their cars, trucks, bicycles and even on foot to witness the gorgeously and intricate lanterns that are put on display. I took some nice blurred photographs of lanterns in the dark and the effect is quite stunning even though it screams amateurish. I took my little cousin out to see the lanterns put on display by HSBC to raise money for children in need. HSBC is just opposite my house so we crossed the road and I got busy clicking away and completely forgot my cousin who was trying to get herself killed by the oncoming cars. Stupid me! My heart was in my throat when I bought her home. I honestly felt sick but you know me, I was all happy again in five minutes.
My 17 year old servant- please keep your judgments to yourself, like you look at age before employing a domestic!- decides she wants to view the spectacles of Vesak this year. She tells my mum that her mum is picking her up and taking her about the town to do this very thing. My mum’s heart melts, or much more likely, nods dumbly at her request while watching Kyun Ki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi, and lets her go. Well by 3am she hadn’t turned up so she sighed and went back to sleep. The next day, the mum turns up the next day demanding to see her daughter. Sickening realization sets in and we, er, realize that the fucking imp has run away. I warn my mother about setting an appointment with the gynaecologist when and if she turns up. That didn’t bode very well unfortunately and I was told to screw off and not interfere in such matters but I know my mum was worried about how she was going to cope with a pregnant servant. I mean how would she wash the bathrooms? Ha Ha Ha. I suggested she might have to pay her extra since she was, you know, expecting. I added that she might have a grandchild on her hands and for moment, she looked very alarmed, as if in her distracted state I was implying that I had got someone preggers but then she saw I was referring to her beloved maid and she told me in so many words to get the fuck away from her.
Ah the reinvigorating powers of provincialities… I could get used to this (not).
Today, I went out with my cousins. Pooja is 18 years old and she is depressed because her Advanced Level examinations are going on and their destroying her social life. She regales me with stories about the politics that go on in her class- evil twin sisters, snitching, prefect election politics, ‘unfair’ punishments due to using nail polish and sporting short skirts etc. I am very intrigued. Dinesh, her 15 year old brother puts me to shame with his driving skills and thinks he is some macho man because he uses the words ‘dick’, ‘pussy’, ‘fuck’. I sagely nod and come up with beatific smiles to show I am above all this, but I do in fact, find real interest in them because I see myself in them. Of course, they are sooo much more posh and want iPods instead if Nokia 3310 phones. In fact, the punk already has an iPod! Envy never gets you anywhere if you don’t have the money. :
We went bowling. I won of course. Usage of beatific smile once more. I got a score of 123. Really, that has been my average for some time now. I must up it somehow. Ahh but my bowling partner and best friend, Shawn, is in fucking England now so the zest of the game has evaporated without his asinine antics and embarrassing shows on the alleys. After consuming an entire portion of fries, devilled sausages and Pepsi we decide we have ventured out enough for the day and it was time to head home to catch the American Idol finale. Sigh. I love Idol. Will miss it lor.
Right then, Buhary comes over to watch the finale and we just chill for awhile. After bitching about the contestants we go out for a drive so that I could finally smoke in peace. We park next to the railway tracks and I am fine with smoking under the road lights but he decides we need to be more adventurous. Therefore, we cross over the railway tracks and I smoke in an area which is entirely dark, breezy, and full of creepy men milling about. Amidst jokes about being raped, Buhary contemplates going bathing in the sea. I freak out, stub out my cigarette and run to my car! This is a guy who likes asking the ugliest prostitutes for their charges because he finds hilarity in such things. Another example is, shouting at men who are pissing on some random wall so they get scared and spray their stream all over the place. Great. Although I hesitate, I admit it was fucking hilarious. Then dropped off Buhary and went to pick up Nadeeka for coffee. Chatted, drank coffee, ate cheesecake and came home carefully so that mum wouldn’t pick up smoke smells.
I know, I know, it’s been sooo long since I last updated. What to do, what to do, I am sooo busy. That’s pure cock! I’ve been doing nothing except being lulled into some sort of complacency that consists of HBO, Star Movies, AXN, Star World and even the damn Discovery channel! Since my sister is away having a ball of a time in Bangalore and Chennai, there is no need to vacate her room at 5.30pm which is about the time she comes home after work and tells me to fuck off.
Ah well, so I’ve just been doing nothing except watch TV. There is no truth in the age old saying ‘an idle mind is the devil’s workshop’ because cable TV has negated the need to be idle. Therefore idleness is just about effectively close to being obsolete. This means, that we are slowly becoming drones; machines that will perform only the most routine tasks such as cleaning oneself and making the obligatory trip to the repair shop, which since we are humans consists of making content our soul’s need for human contact and medicine. Speaking outside of the useless, convoluted world that I live in, that basically means, I wake up, clean myself and watch TV but from time to time venture outside with friends and make trips to the pharmacy on errands since I am still human and benevolent enough to keep my family well stocked with medicines and by implication, alive.
But let me touch on the highlights of the last few days. After Nadeeka’s birthday dinner, Sunday was a day in which we all recuperated and flushed out all the toxins that had, so miraculously, accumulated in our systems. I just laid about, like a beached whale on my couch, reading away to glory. I finished The Spell and started on Chetan Bhagat’s book on life at IIT, ‘Five Point Someone’. The story is about 3 students at IIT, who are the ‘best’ of friends and who come to pact that renounces studies in favour of enjoying the best days of their lives, which to them is being seriously screwed up by the brutal IIT system. The story’s amusing enough but people, come on, let us stop bitching about NUS. Compared to IIT, life at NUS is like being at a fucking spa. Of course, I have never been to a spa, but that is so not the point.
Monday was a national holiday because of Vesak. Now in Colombo, it was the day prior to Vesak so that means it is classified as a holiday. I love Vesak. It’s a time when all of Colombo comes out in their cars, trucks, bicycles and even on foot to witness the gorgeously and intricate lanterns that are put on display. I took some nice blurred photographs of lanterns in the dark and the effect is quite stunning even though it screams amateurish. I took my little cousin out to see the lanterns put on display by HSBC to raise money for children in need. HSBC is just opposite my house so we crossed the road and I got busy clicking away and completely forgot my cousin who was trying to get herself killed by the oncoming cars. Stupid me! My heart was in my throat when I bought her home. I honestly felt sick but you know me, I was all happy again in five minutes.
My 17 year old servant- please keep your judgments to yourself, like you look at age before employing a domestic!- decides she wants to view the spectacles of Vesak this year. She tells my mum that her mum is picking her up and taking her about the town to do this very thing. My mum’s heart melts, or much more likely, nods dumbly at her request while watching Kyun Ki Saas Bhi Kabhi Bahu Thi, and lets her go. Well by 3am she hadn’t turned up so she sighed and went back to sleep. The next day, the mum turns up the next day demanding to see her daughter. Sickening realization sets in and we, er, realize that the fucking imp has run away. I warn my mother about setting an appointment with the gynaecologist when and if she turns up. That didn’t bode very well unfortunately and I was told to screw off and not interfere in such matters but I know my mum was worried about how she was going to cope with a pregnant servant. I mean how would she wash the bathrooms? Ha Ha Ha. I suggested she might have to pay her extra since she was, you know, expecting. I added that she might have a grandchild on her hands and for moment, she looked very alarmed, as if in her distracted state I was implying that I had got someone preggers but then she saw I was referring to her beloved maid and she told me in so many words to get the fuck away from her.
Ah the reinvigorating powers of provincialities… I could get used to this (not).
Today, I went out with my cousins. Pooja is 18 years old and she is depressed because her Advanced Level examinations are going on and their destroying her social life. She regales me with stories about the politics that go on in her class- evil twin sisters, snitching, prefect election politics, ‘unfair’ punishments due to using nail polish and sporting short skirts etc. I am very intrigued. Dinesh, her 15 year old brother puts me to shame with his driving skills and thinks he is some macho man because he uses the words ‘dick’, ‘pussy’, ‘fuck’. I sagely nod and come up with beatific smiles to show I am above all this, but I do in fact, find real interest in them because I see myself in them. Of course, they are sooo much more posh and want iPods instead if Nokia 3310 phones. In fact, the punk already has an iPod! Envy never gets you anywhere if you don’t have the money. :
We went bowling. I won of course. Usage of beatific smile once more. I got a score of 123. Really, that has been my average for some time now. I must up it somehow. Ahh but my bowling partner and best friend, Shawn, is in fucking England now so the zest of the game has evaporated without his asinine antics and embarrassing shows on the alleys. After consuming an entire portion of fries, devilled sausages and Pepsi we decide we have ventured out enough for the day and it was time to head home to catch the American Idol finale. Sigh. I love Idol. Will miss it lor.
Right then, Buhary comes over to watch the finale and we just chill for awhile. After bitching about the contestants we go out for a drive so that I could finally smoke in peace. We park next to the railway tracks and I am fine with smoking under the road lights but he decides we need to be more adventurous. Therefore, we cross over the railway tracks and I smoke in an area which is entirely dark, breezy, and full of creepy men milling about. Amidst jokes about being raped, Buhary contemplates going bathing in the sea. I freak out, stub out my cigarette and run to my car! This is a guy who likes asking the ugliest prostitutes for their charges because he finds hilarity in such things. Another example is, shouting at men who are pissing on some random wall so they get scared and spray their stream all over the place. Great. Although I hesitate, I admit it was fucking hilarious. Then dropped off Buhary and went to pick up Nadeeka for coffee. Chatted, drank coffee, ate cheesecake and came home carefully so that mum wouldn’t pick up smoke smells.
Recommendation of the Day: watch Nip/Tuck. It… Is… Awesome!
Monday, May 23, 2005
heady times
Date: 22nd May
Time: 1.47am
Song playing: You are my everything- Mary J. Blige
It seems that I have acquired a taste for the finer things in life. I realize that I have become one of the people I hate with a vengeance i.e. a snob. I think that the moralistic hate was a poor disguise for the true, unadulterated emotion underneath: envy. Thou shalt not covet. Oh but I do covet. Every fibre of my body reverberates with the bitter boredom of my life. Natural I think? Or not? Whatever.
The past few days have been incredibly social. I always knew myself to be a veritable social butterfly flitting from buttercup to buttercup sucking up the sweet nectar and heady fumes of any party but, I’ve never entered high society. This weekend I did, although it did not start off that way.
I was shopping with sister on Thursday when a Sindhi friend of ours invited us to a barbecue he was having at his house on Friday. I thought it might be fun as I would get to meet a few Sindhis (Sindhi youth are much cooler than I imagined, but I still feel a bit uneasy around my own kind) and get to know them better. Maybe I would take a great liking to them and would develop a Sindhi clique! My sister and mother would be sooo glad. They always complain that I am some English putthar. Anyways, I get there and there is free booze. Grrreeat. So I hung about a bit there, met some non-Sindhis who were very cool and got their numbers. Maybe, if my suspicions are right, something might work out there?
I had to leave early to meet some friends for drinks. Get to the place really, really late only in time for two tequilas, but I was already riding the crest of four really hard Bacardi cokes so I had no problem with having missed out on the golden opportunities that a bottle of tequila offers. After getting done there headed off to the club to meet a different set of friends. My dearest school friends. All TWO of them. Unfortunately, they were tired and they went back home at 1.30am. Shock! I was left intentionally stranded. God forbid I go home just as the night is starting. I call Shiny and she’s at Tantra! Yay! Tantra is a cool, open air place on the 4th floor and it’s cool because people just stand there talking with each other and slowly getting themselves drunk on a very functional kind of drivel. Snobberies, snobberies.
Hooked up with Ash and her boyfriend at Tantra and head off to the Library. This is where I just about pass through the doors of a very elite kind of society. The boyfriend is filthy rich. Mozzie. Big business, big networks, the works. The Library by the way is another club. It was empty but sitting around and nursing a drink was something I couldn’t complain about because you know, the drink was absolutely gorgeous and free. After getting through the ‘chore’ of what Ash said was an obligation to entertain a few guests, off we went to My Kind of Place, another club. The place was pumping with good music and it was a jolt to my system to see such good looking people milling around. Ang-Moh’s galore! French, Spanish etc. So the boyfriend orders, I think, everything on the damn wine list. Like some impoverished, old, Victorian aunt I mooch off this new found generosity. I was a bit uncomfortable at first, but Ash’s sweet coaxings and some 8 glasses of champagne & arrack have a way of devastating inhibitions. This is where everything got glittery and glamorous as I got progressively wasted. I actually also started some 5-6 conversations with people I didn’t know and was like I said, talking drivel but enjoying every moment of it. There was this girl, a look-alike of Annie from Sunset Beach (or Miranda from Bold and the Beautiful) who I imagined was checking me out which only added fuel to the fires of my risqué attachment to everything rich and prolific.
See what I mean, I don’t like myself right now. Actually I do. Like myself.
I get home, completely off my face and mum is awake. Shit. She obviously guesses that I’m pretty much drunk but she just scolds me to go to sleep after a cursory conversation:
Medusa: You’ve been drinking
Me: Yeah
Medusa: Why do you do this to me? *notice how she says ‘me’ as if the liquor that I consume makes her drunk
Me: Yeah. What to do.
Medusa: You are the cause of all my illnesses: wheeze, ‘flu, cough, sore throat, everything bloody your fault
Me: Goodnight. I’m going to piss.
I wake up and feel, inevitably, fucked up but mum seems to be cool so my fears of being sent to military school or even worse, getting my allowance revoked are allayed. She also plies me with grapes (claiming it is really good after ‘a night at the discotheque’), curd, aspirin and a solemn lecture about the evils of drinking. However, I am not fooled by this cool-ness, though I am grateful for it. My mom made faint threats which I shall ignore until the next time I am off my face and imagining the worst kind of reaction in my compromised, mountainous (as opposed to mole-hill, ha ha) state.
Speaking of social graces and impoverished aunts, while I was getting over the terrible after-effects I managed to watch Vanity Fair. Now this movie got very bad reviews but I actually liked it. A lot. I haven’t read the book so obviously I had nothing to compare against but as a movie it’s pretty decent though nowhere as near to Mira Nair’s Monsoon Wedding. A-.
Lazily dressed up for Nadeeka’s birthday dinner. Myself, Shavanka, Ishani, Iro, Afzal, Muffu and the birthday girl went to a place called Tulips owned by one of Sri Lanka’s premier gay man who doubles as a transvestite. He is huge, that is to say fat and he displays photographs of himself in drag all over the restaurant. All his waiters are gay too. Surprise Surprise! He is dating the owner of the firm I going to work for as an intern. Little titbits of information that one hears if one goes out reasonably frequently.
The food was good, the place very nicely decorated and the cake we got for the birthday girl was abso-fucking-lutely delicious. Some chocolate brandy thang. After dinner we go for coffee and come home. Coffee surprisingly turned out to be the most social part of the evening because we kept on bumping into people we knew and hugging and kissing and bitching with them. Nadeeka is 22! Go baby! She got Davidhoff’s Echo Women from Afzal, a mug from Ishani (the same one I have, only with an N inscribed on it) and aromatherapy incense and a chain from me.
And now here I am blogging about how much I like being a snob. You could call me a wannabe snob. Maybe this is the elusive downward spiral. Or maybe it was only this weekend. Maybe what I experienced was still in the lower rungs of the social ladder. I shall now relegate myself to doing very unexciting things, like going for drives and watching movies and talking on the phone.
Dahlings!
Time: 1.47am
Song playing: You are my everything- Mary J. Blige
It seems that I have acquired a taste for the finer things in life. I realize that I have become one of the people I hate with a vengeance i.e. a snob. I think that the moralistic hate was a poor disguise for the true, unadulterated emotion underneath: envy. Thou shalt not covet. Oh but I do covet. Every fibre of my body reverberates with the bitter boredom of my life. Natural I think? Or not? Whatever.
The past few days have been incredibly social. I always knew myself to be a veritable social butterfly flitting from buttercup to buttercup sucking up the sweet nectar and heady fumes of any party but, I’ve never entered high society. This weekend I did, although it did not start off that way.
I was shopping with sister on Thursday when a Sindhi friend of ours invited us to a barbecue he was having at his house on Friday. I thought it might be fun as I would get to meet a few Sindhis (Sindhi youth are much cooler than I imagined, but I still feel a bit uneasy around my own kind) and get to know them better. Maybe I would take a great liking to them and would develop a Sindhi clique! My sister and mother would be sooo glad. They always complain that I am some English putthar. Anyways, I get there and there is free booze. Grrreeat. So I hung about a bit there, met some non-Sindhis who were very cool and got their numbers. Maybe, if my suspicions are right, something might work out there?
I had to leave early to meet some friends for drinks. Get to the place really, really late only in time for two tequilas, but I was already riding the crest of four really hard Bacardi cokes so I had no problem with having missed out on the golden opportunities that a bottle of tequila offers. After getting done there headed off to the club to meet a different set of friends. My dearest school friends. All TWO of them. Unfortunately, they were tired and they went back home at 1.30am. Shock! I was left intentionally stranded. God forbid I go home just as the night is starting. I call Shiny and she’s at Tantra! Yay! Tantra is a cool, open air place on the 4th floor and it’s cool because people just stand there talking with each other and slowly getting themselves drunk on a very functional kind of drivel. Snobberies, snobberies.
Hooked up with Ash and her boyfriend at Tantra and head off to the Library. This is where I just about pass through the doors of a very elite kind of society. The boyfriend is filthy rich. Mozzie. Big business, big networks, the works. The Library by the way is another club. It was empty but sitting around and nursing a drink was something I couldn’t complain about because you know, the drink was absolutely gorgeous and free. After getting through the ‘chore’ of what Ash said was an obligation to entertain a few guests, off we went to My Kind of Place, another club. The place was pumping with good music and it was a jolt to my system to see such good looking people milling around. Ang-Moh’s galore! French, Spanish etc. So the boyfriend orders, I think, everything on the damn wine list. Like some impoverished, old, Victorian aunt I mooch off this new found generosity. I was a bit uncomfortable at first, but Ash’s sweet coaxings and some 8 glasses of champagne & arrack have a way of devastating inhibitions. This is where everything got glittery and glamorous as I got progressively wasted. I actually also started some 5-6 conversations with people I didn’t know and was like I said, talking drivel but enjoying every moment of it. There was this girl, a look-alike of Annie from Sunset Beach (or Miranda from Bold and the Beautiful) who I imagined was checking me out which only added fuel to the fires of my risqué attachment to everything rich and prolific.
See what I mean, I don’t like myself right now. Actually I do. Like myself.
I get home, completely off my face and mum is awake. Shit. She obviously guesses that I’m pretty much drunk but she just scolds me to go to sleep after a cursory conversation:
Medusa: You’ve been drinking
Me: Yeah
Medusa: Why do you do this to me? *notice how she says ‘me’ as if the liquor that I consume makes her drunk
Me: Yeah. What to do.
Medusa: You are the cause of all my illnesses: wheeze, ‘flu, cough, sore throat, everything bloody your fault
Me: Goodnight. I’m going to piss.
I wake up and feel, inevitably, fucked up but mum seems to be cool so my fears of being sent to military school or even worse, getting my allowance revoked are allayed. She also plies me with grapes (claiming it is really good after ‘a night at the discotheque’), curd, aspirin and a solemn lecture about the evils of drinking. However, I am not fooled by this cool-ness, though I am grateful for it. My mom made faint threats which I shall ignore until the next time I am off my face and imagining the worst kind of reaction in my compromised, mountainous (as opposed to mole-hill, ha ha) state.
Speaking of social graces and impoverished aunts, while I was getting over the terrible after-effects I managed to watch Vanity Fair. Now this movie got very bad reviews but I actually liked it. A lot. I haven’t read the book so obviously I had nothing to compare against but as a movie it’s pretty decent though nowhere as near to Mira Nair’s Monsoon Wedding. A-.
Lazily dressed up for Nadeeka’s birthday dinner. Myself, Shavanka, Ishani, Iro, Afzal, Muffu and the birthday girl went to a place called Tulips owned by one of Sri Lanka’s premier gay man who doubles as a transvestite. He is huge, that is to say fat and he displays photographs of himself in drag all over the restaurant. All his waiters are gay too. Surprise Surprise! He is dating the owner of the firm I going to work for as an intern. Little titbits of information that one hears if one goes out reasonably frequently.
The food was good, the place very nicely decorated and the cake we got for the birthday girl was abso-fucking-lutely delicious. Some chocolate brandy thang. After dinner we go for coffee and come home. Coffee surprisingly turned out to be the most social part of the evening because we kept on bumping into people we knew and hugging and kissing and bitching with them. Nadeeka is 22! Go baby! She got Davidhoff’s Echo Women from Afzal, a mug from Ishani (the same one I have, only with an N inscribed on it) and aromatherapy incense and a chain from me.
And now here I am blogging about how much I like being a snob. You could call me a wannabe snob. Maybe this is the elusive downward spiral. Or maybe it was only this weekend. Maybe what I experienced was still in the lower rungs of the social ladder. I shall now relegate myself to doing very unexciting things, like going for drives and watching movies and talking on the phone.
Dahlings!
Thursday, May 19, 2005
glitterati
Date: 19th May
Time: 1.53am
I have just come back from a typically Sindhi wedding. I mentioned in a previous post of mine about a Mehendi- well this was the subsequent wedding.
It was held at the Holiday Inn and my sister and I walk in pretty late while the wedding ceremony is going on. The wedding ceremony is supposed to be conducted in a place that signifies something about the vows these two people are making for the rest of their lives, i.e. a temple etc but instead it is held in one of the most profane environments of all, a hotel ballroom. At least it wasn’t in a club or something. The ceremony was being conducted at the extreme right of the ballroom with its makeshift stage and inevitable rudimentary fireplace and a priest who sweats profusely but yet is able to monotone his praises to the Wedding Gods while smiling his grime sheathed teeth to the cameras clicking away photographs which will fill at least forty useless albums.
I was just thinking, if Wedding Gods do exist, then their mortal, or rather; immortal enemies would be the Divorce Devils. Their respective counterparts would probably be the Birth Goddesses and the Abortion Demons. And I suppose, the Miscarriage deity would probably side with the God or the Devil depending on the woman’s personality. If she was a good soul and she had a miscarriage, then God would have caused it to prevent future pain, like if the child turned out to be retarded or just dumbfuck jerk. If she was a plain bitch, the demon would have caused the miscarriage in the 8th month, to punish both the bitch and the child (after all it is a Demon). Hmmm…Interesting.
The ballroom was gorgeously decorated. While the ceremony was going on, we all had to enter the hall and take our seats graciously and with hushed respect for the he-who-sweats-profusely-attention-whore and of course the couple. At each table, there’s a sleek candle burning which throws off a very subdued glare that flickers sexily on the cutlery and on everybody’s glasses. We all also get a glass of juice served in a champagne glass as soon as we are seated. It is quite disappointingly only juice, but rightfully so considering the hall is filled with old ladies who might have all kinds of coronaries and aneurysms if they took a sip of the Devil’s liquid. Of course some of these cunning ladies might down quite a few alcoholic drinks before crying foul, you know, just for the sake of proprietary and for the plain fun of good ol’bitching.
Additionally, the ballroom had these beautiful chandeliers which are a trademark of the Holiday Inn. The twinkling, ostentatious chandeliers lent a lot of glamour to the whole thing. It was really nice sitting there, me in a pin-striped suit with a white shirt (no tie), my sister in a 25 year old vintage black, sequiny saree, at a table full of strangers but laden with a beautifully intricate lace table cloth with a gold border. You can’t help but notice these things sometimes.
Dinner was predictably Indian fare. After the obligatory Congratulations shout out by DJ Curzon, we took to the buffet table like, well, Sindhis. I felt like slapping an old man as he pretended to be lost and wedged in front of me in the line. I couldn’t of course you know, because too many people were watching. The food was, in this case, unpredictably quite good. At my cousin’s wedding two years back, at the Taj Samudra, a whole contingent of guests who travelled all the way from the Caribbean, fell sick after eating the buffet at the Mehendi. So embarrassing for us!! This girl’s tongue actually turned black after the incident. Luckily it passed within a day and she was all ready to soak up the free alcohol at the wedding a few days later.
Getting back to this wedding and of course the alcohol, the bar was unfortunately situated very near to a close group of relatives who were paying a lot of attention on my movements, like they knew I was going for the alcohol. In an imagined world I see all my uncles clapping high-five when they saw their son/nephews going towards the bar. They would say stuff like, ‘Oh thank god, I thought he was going to be, you know, chee, I don’t know how to say this, a non-drinking sissy’. That day will never come because Sindhi husbands are very much controlled by their ball-squeezing tough ass bitches that’ve been brought up on entire lectures on the dangers of drink. Sensible women. NOT.
But resourceful as I am I got a friend to sneak me a Bacardi Coke. It was sooo fucking strong. It was absolute bliss lah. Quickly gulped it down but I saw a few of my uncles give me disapproving looks. Tsk tsk. I still think they probably express disapproval because they’re so jealous since we have become so cocky and so secretly-public with our furtive drinking habits whereas they had to plan in advance some big day in which they could drink and be off their faces. Damn, I wasn’t even driving, I should have drunk more. In fact, at that fateful Mehendi mentioned above, I WAS driving but I still swigged away around eight Bacardi Cokes. It was only later that I was informed that I was supposed to take my mum, my sister, my aunt and my grandmother home. I handled it quite well but I’d rather not take the risk again. There is a certain something about having 70-80 bottles of wine, champagne, Bacardi, vodka, gin and whisky at your beck and call that makes you take risks!!
Anyway, let me comment on the people. As we all have heard a million times, Sindhi’s are very, very conscious about how they look in public. Therefore it was not surprising to see the glitterati out in full force. There were diamonds, amethysts, opals, emeralds and sapphires all glowing fiercely on the mostly wrinkled necks of middle to old aged women. The sarees were sometimes flawless, sometimes gaudy, sometimes elegant, sometimes looking like shit. The men were mostly dressed in expensive looking suits and it was sooo refreshing to see that a lot of my peers were being original and wearing uniquely coloured ties with nicely coloured shirts. My favourite combination was where the guy was wearing an orange shirt with a suede black tie. Very sleek.
The best part of all this is that even though the riches were quite obviously flowing effortlessly around the ballroom, it was NOT a high-profile wedding. The Joneses are always on the minds of wedding planners.
Seriously though, the wedding was faintly exciting as I got to see some people who I haven’t met in AGES. It was also quite scary to see the pretentiousness of it all but fuck it, it’s just up to us to have fun. I did have fun! I checked out people indiscriminately and imagined myself doing un-godly things on the stage when everyone had left. I also socialized and it was refreshing to have one or two intellectual conversations in the midst of the equally refreshing eight or nine bimbotic ones.
And then we left. We took our parting gifts of wedding cake and liquor chocolates and drove home. Absolutely sober. Damn.
Time: 1.53am
I have just come back from a typically Sindhi wedding. I mentioned in a previous post of mine about a Mehendi- well this was the subsequent wedding.
It was held at the Holiday Inn and my sister and I walk in pretty late while the wedding ceremony is going on. The wedding ceremony is supposed to be conducted in a place that signifies something about the vows these two people are making for the rest of their lives, i.e. a temple etc but instead it is held in one of the most profane environments of all, a hotel ballroom. At least it wasn’t in a club or something. The ceremony was being conducted at the extreme right of the ballroom with its makeshift stage and inevitable rudimentary fireplace and a priest who sweats profusely but yet is able to monotone his praises to the Wedding Gods while smiling his grime sheathed teeth to the cameras clicking away photographs which will fill at least forty useless albums.
I was just thinking, if Wedding Gods do exist, then their mortal, or rather; immortal enemies would be the Divorce Devils. Their respective counterparts would probably be the Birth Goddesses and the Abortion Demons. And I suppose, the Miscarriage deity would probably side with the God or the Devil depending on the woman’s personality. If she was a good soul and she had a miscarriage, then God would have caused it to prevent future pain, like if the child turned out to be retarded or just dumbfuck jerk. If she was a plain bitch, the demon would have caused the miscarriage in the 8th month, to punish both the bitch and the child (after all it is a Demon). Hmmm…Interesting.
The ballroom was gorgeously decorated. While the ceremony was going on, we all had to enter the hall and take our seats graciously and with hushed respect for the he-who-sweats-profusely-attention-whore and of course the couple. At each table, there’s a sleek candle burning which throws off a very subdued glare that flickers sexily on the cutlery and on everybody’s glasses. We all also get a glass of juice served in a champagne glass as soon as we are seated. It is quite disappointingly only juice, but rightfully so considering the hall is filled with old ladies who might have all kinds of coronaries and aneurysms if they took a sip of the Devil’s liquid. Of course some of these cunning ladies might down quite a few alcoholic drinks before crying foul, you know, just for the sake of proprietary and for the plain fun of good ol’bitching.
Additionally, the ballroom had these beautiful chandeliers which are a trademark of the Holiday Inn. The twinkling, ostentatious chandeliers lent a lot of glamour to the whole thing. It was really nice sitting there, me in a pin-striped suit with a white shirt (no tie), my sister in a 25 year old vintage black, sequiny saree, at a table full of strangers but laden with a beautifully intricate lace table cloth with a gold border. You can’t help but notice these things sometimes.
Dinner was predictably Indian fare. After the obligatory Congratulations shout out by DJ Curzon, we took to the buffet table like, well, Sindhis. I felt like slapping an old man as he pretended to be lost and wedged in front of me in the line. I couldn’t of course you know, because too many people were watching. The food was, in this case, unpredictably quite good. At my cousin’s wedding two years back, at the Taj Samudra, a whole contingent of guests who travelled all the way from the Caribbean, fell sick after eating the buffet at the Mehendi. So embarrassing for us!! This girl’s tongue actually turned black after the incident. Luckily it passed within a day and she was all ready to soak up the free alcohol at the wedding a few days later.
Getting back to this wedding and of course the alcohol, the bar was unfortunately situated very near to a close group of relatives who were paying a lot of attention on my movements, like they knew I was going for the alcohol. In an imagined world I see all my uncles clapping high-five when they saw their son/nephews going towards the bar. They would say stuff like, ‘Oh thank god, I thought he was going to be, you know, chee, I don’t know how to say this, a non-drinking sissy’. That day will never come because Sindhi husbands are very much controlled by their ball-squeezing tough ass bitches that’ve been brought up on entire lectures on the dangers of drink. Sensible women. NOT.
But resourceful as I am I got a friend to sneak me a Bacardi Coke. It was sooo fucking strong. It was absolute bliss lah. Quickly gulped it down but I saw a few of my uncles give me disapproving looks. Tsk tsk. I still think they probably express disapproval because they’re so jealous since we have become so cocky and so secretly-public with our furtive drinking habits whereas they had to plan in advance some big day in which they could drink and be off their faces. Damn, I wasn’t even driving, I should have drunk more. In fact, at that fateful Mehendi mentioned above, I WAS driving but I still swigged away around eight Bacardi Cokes. It was only later that I was informed that I was supposed to take my mum, my sister, my aunt and my grandmother home. I handled it quite well but I’d rather not take the risk again. There is a certain something about having 70-80 bottles of wine, champagne, Bacardi, vodka, gin and whisky at your beck and call that makes you take risks!!
Anyway, let me comment on the people. As we all have heard a million times, Sindhi’s are very, very conscious about how they look in public. Therefore it was not surprising to see the glitterati out in full force. There were diamonds, amethysts, opals, emeralds and sapphires all glowing fiercely on the mostly wrinkled necks of middle to old aged women. The sarees were sometimes flawless, sometimes gaudy, sometimes elegant, sometimes looking like shit. The men were mostly dressed in expensive looking suits and it was sooo refreshing to see that a lot of my peers were being original and wearing uniquely coloured ties with nicely coloured shirts. My favourite combination was where the guy was wearing an orange shirt with a suede black tie. Very sleek.
The best part of all this is that even though the riches were quite obviously flowing effortlessly around the ballroom, it was NOT a high-profile wedding. The Joneses are always on the minds of wedding planners.
Seriously though, the wedding was faintly exciting as I got to see some people who I haven’t met in AGES. It was also quite scary to see the pretentiousness of it all but fuck it, it’s just up to us to have fun. I did have fun! I checked out people indiscriminately and imagined myself doing un-godly things on the stage when everyone had left. I also socialized and it was refreshing to have one or two intellectual conversations in the midst of the equally refreshing eight or nine bimbotic ones.
And then we left. We took our parting gifts of wedding cake and liquor chocolates and drove home. Absolutely sober. Damn.
Song of the moment: Try- Nelly Furtado
Monday, May 16, 2005
imma relationship wrecker plus.. overview of life
Date: 15th March
Time: 11:39pm
By mid week of my first few days in Colombo I was already dreading the weekend. I mean if the weekdays had been so boring, what would the weekend be like? I know people go out more on the weekend and therefore it should be more fun than weekdays, but in Colombo, especially during the day, people just like to rest and do nothing. I don’t mind that because I am definitely not a morning (or afternoon) person but being at home was going to be extra worse. My mother usually watches TV for pretty much the entire day so this takes up her time very well. However, during the weekend, the prime time soaps she absolutely adores don’t show which enables her to pay more attention to her children. So in our small little house, small only because I don’t have my own room, her attention becomes a gross invasion of non-existent privacy. I love my mum, but this becomes too much when my sister too, stays in bed the entire day enjoying her weekend. Usually, I can escape to my sister’s room but when she is there, its not so much escape but falling into another deeper, darker trap.
I exaggerate but do feel sorry for me.
Anyway, like always, my dread was unwarranted. I know my last post, which was posted in the wee hours of Saturday, should have bought up to date on the events of Friday but well, it didn’t. Ha Ha. So let me just go right ahead.
I went out for dinner with my school friends on Friday night. We were actually supposed to go clubbing but the object of my friend’s overly amorphous affection cancelled out last minute, so her brethren of ‘best’ friends had to understand the unworthiness of going out without him and therefore cancelling the entire plan seemed like the best thing.
On we proceeded to get some good ol’ Sri Lankan prepared Chinese food at ‘Flower Drum’. It was all in all a pretty good evening as far as company was concerned but I found out some pretty interesting stuff too.
Just before going for dinner I dropped into my infatuated friend’s house for a bit of catching up. She told me that the guy who was interested in her aeons ago (incidentally he’s also part of our clique and was joining us for dinner later) actually hates me. I was like ‘huh’? So apparently, the reason he hates me is because I used to call her up even when I knew he had a massive crush on her.
Now she is my best friend and being the good soul I was, I encouraged her to go out with him. In fact, in those early days, most of my phone conversations with her used to centre around him and about her conflicted feelings for him. So imagine my shock that he used to think that I was calling her because I had feelings for her!! How absurd!! He still feels that I was the one who kept them apart because I was too much of a selfish bastard to give him a try. I can understand the jealousy he might have felt because she and I used to hang around a lot but I guess he didn’t really understand the concept of a best friend. The prick doesn’t realize that it was HIM that turned her off in the first place. How dare he suggest I am a relationship (or lack thereof) breaker!! I realize that I’m giving myself too much credit but his bitching has gone beyond our immediate social circle and I am just itching to give him a piece of my mind.
Also he feels that the comfort zone I share with her is way too inappropriate. He keeps on advising her about how I have an ulterior motive if I for example give her a random hug or a random spank on her ass. Ha ha. If only he knew me better he would realize that I spank a lot of people’s asses and even though I know I am a slut, there is no way in hell that I could sleep with ALL the people I’ve spanked before! Seriously if this is not attempting to tarnish one’s name I don’t know what is. Fucking hypocritical religious bastard!!
I’m not pissed with him, I’m quite indifferent to it because honestly, his opinion matters the least to me. I actually enjoyed being in the same room with him and observing his reactions when I intentionally spanked his ex-almost-lover’s ass and flirted with her indiscriminately. It’s all very immature and childish but fun as hell! I swear he’s such a stupid dick.
Saturday was a relaxing day as well. Just did nothing the entire day but watch cable and just stew in my own environment. Environment, what a politically correct, un-crude word… In the night, my mum and I went to Navaratnam for dinner. It’s an Indian restaurant at the Taj Samudra hotel. It was a very good dinner although we over-ordered and consequently ate toooo much. To all the Mallu’s I know, the Coconut Pepper Chicken was awesome. It was listed in the menu as one of Kerala’s finest dishes so I thought, hey why not try it. It was pretty good shite!!!
After dinner I dropped dearest momma home and took a trishaw to the nearest cigarette shop to buy myself a pack of Marlboro Lights- my first in almost 10 days! Then I met up with some of my NUS friends for drinks at a country club of sorts. We drank there for a while and ended up at a club around 1am. It was a good night; the music and company were brilliant. I think I might have strained my neck a bit too much but it’s all good. Nadeeka thought the waiter hit on me! Of course I didn’t realize it. I was quite drunk when I got home but after a quick spray of deodorant, wash of face, brush of teeth/tongue I was good to face the Gorgon Medusa….i.e. Mother. But luckily she was dead to the world so I just slipped into bed and fell asleep.
Sunday was relatively dead. I read a bit and went with Bu to Nads’s place. We ended up chatting and bitching for almost 2 hours. Kinda fun lah! After that came home, dropped mum and sis off at a Mehendi party and came home to embrace an empty house for the first time since I’ve been back. I watched bits and pieces of The Forgotten and chatted on the phone. I also, treated myself to a bit of alone time. Hee Hee.
I’ve just about run out of steam to type out anything more so I shall sign off now okilah?
Song of the moment: The Lonely Shepherd- Zamfir
Time: 11:39pm
By mid week of my first few days in Colombo I was already dreading the weekend. I mean if the weekdays had been so boring, what would the weekend be like? I know people go out more on the weekend and therefore it should be more fun than weekdays, but in Colombo, especially during the day, people just like to rest and do nothing. I don’t mind that because I am definitely not a morning (or afternoon) person but being at home was going to be extra worse. My mother usually watches TV for pretty much the entire day so this takes up her time very well. However, during the weekend, the prime time soaps she absolutely adores don’t show which enables her to pay more attention to her children. So in our small little house, small only because I don’t have my own room, her attention becomes a gross invasion of non-existent privacy. I love my mum, but this becomes too much when my sister too, stays in bed the entire day enjoying her weekend. Usually, I can escape to my sister’s room but when she is there, its not so much escape but falling into another deeper, darker trap.
I exaggerate but do feel sorry for me.
Anyway, like always, my dread was unwarranted. I know my last post, which was posted in the wee hours of Saturday, should have bought up to date on the events of Friday but well, it didn’t. Ha Ha. So let me just go right ahead.
I went out for dinner with my school friends on Friday night. We were actually supposed to go clubbing but the object of my friend’s overly amorphous affection cancelled out last minute, so her brethren of ‘best’ friends had to understand the unworthiness of going out without him and therefore cancelling the entire plan seemed like the best thing.
On we proceeded to get some good ol’ Sri Lankan prepared Chinese food at ‘Flower Drum’. It was all in all a pretty good evening as far as company was concerned but I found out some pretty interesting stuff too.
Just before going for dinner I dropped into my infatuated friend’s house for a bit of catching up. She told me that the guy who was interested in her aeons ago (incidentally he’s also part of our clique and was joining us for dinner later) actually hates me. I was like ‘huh’? So apparently, the reason he hates me is because I used to call her up even when I knew he had a massive crush on her.
Now she is my best friend and being the good soul I was, I encouraged her to go out with him. In fact, in those early days, most of my phone conversations with her used to centre around him and about her conflicted feelings for him. So imagine my shock that he used to think that I was calling her because I had feelings for her!! How absurd!! He still feels that I was the one who kept them apart because I was too much of a selfish bastard to give him a try. I can understand the jealousy he might have felt because she and I used to hang around a lot but I guess he didn’t really understand the concept of a best friend. The prick doesn’t realize that it was HIM that turned her off in the first place. How dare he suggest I am a relationship (or lack thereof) breaker!! I realize that I’m giving myself too much credit but his bitching has gone beyond our immediate social circle and I am just itching to give him a piece of my mind.
Also he feels that the comfort zone I share with her is way too inappropriate. He keeps on advising her about how I have an ulterior motive if I for example give her a random hug or a random spank on her ass. Ha ha. If only he knew me better he would realize that I spank a lot of people’s asses and even though I know I am a slut, there is no way in hell that I could sleep with ALL the people I’ve spanked before! Seriously if this is not attempting to tarnish one’s name I don’t know what is. Fucking hypocritical religious bastard!!
I’m not pissed with him, I’m quite indifferent to it because honestly, his opinion matters the least to me. I actually enjoyed being in the same room with him and observing his reactions when I intentionally spanked his ex-almost-lover’s ass and flirted with her indiscriminately. It’s all very immature and childish but fun as hell! I swear he’s such a stupid dick.
Saturday was a relaxing day as well. Just did nothing the entire day but watch cable and just stew in my own environment. Environment, what a politically correct, un-crude word… In the night, my mum and I went to Navaratnam for dinner. It’s an Indian restaurant at the Taj Samudra hotel. It was a very good dinner although we over-ordered and consequently ate toooo much. To all the Mallu’s I know, the Coconut Pepper Chicken was awesome. It was listed in the menu as one of Kerala’s finest dishes so I thought, hey why not try it. It was pretty good shite!!!
After dinner I dropped dearest momma home and took a trishaw to the nearest cigarette shop to buy myself a pack of Marlboro Lights- my first in almost 10 days! Then I met up with some of my NUS friends for drinks at a country club of sorts. We drank there for a while and ended up at a club around 1am. It was a good night; the music and company were brilliant. I think I might have strained my neck a bit too much but it’s all good. Nadeeka thought the waiter hit on me! Of course I didn’t realize it. I was quite drunk when I got home but after a quick spray of deodorant, wash of face, brush of teeth/tongue I was good to face the Gorgon Medusa….i.e. Mother. But luckily she was dead to the world so I just slipped into bed and fell asleep.
Sunday was relatively dead. I read a bit and went with Bu to Nads’s place. We ended up chatting and bitching for almost 2 hours. Kinda fun lah! After that came home, dropped mum and sis off at a Mehendi party and came home to embrace an empty house for the first time since I’ve been back. I watched bits and pieces of The Forgotten and chatted on the phone. I also, treated myself to a bit of alone time. Hee Hee.
I’ve just about run out of steam to type out anything more so I shall sign off now okilah?
Song of the moment: The Lonely Shepherd- Zamfir
Saturday, May 14, 2005
sarongs, parties, girls
Date: 14th March
Time: 12.10am
Song of the moment: Freed from Desire- Gala
Sarong Party Girls or SPG’s, as we fondly (contemptuously) call them are a certain breed of Singaporean Chinese girls who exclusively date Caucasian men. I don’t know the exact roots of the word but could it have anything to do with Chinese girls waving their sarongs shyly (slyly?) at Caucasian men at parties? Too obvious? Furthermore, Chinese girls do not even wear sarongs…! Hmmm… But anyway, this is way off the point, as usual.
The first time I was out at Carnegies- infamously known among the Indian and Sri Lankan contingents at NUS as the place to get free entry, ladies-night-free-champagne and $5 vodka’s- my friend brought to my attention the activities of some pretty decent looking Chinese chicks. These girls were seriously strutting their stuff in front of 40-something sweaty, hairy and beery British men. The effect was almost comical as they alternated between looking aloof and performing some hysterical dance move more suited to the Lil’Kim’s of the world. Well my friend told me that these girls wanted to get with the ang-mohs (singlish term for Caucasian men). I was quite indifferent to this but my friend pulled me aside and whispered in my ear that in Singapore these girls were all over the place. He even said there was a term that applied to these women. And voila! That is how I found about SPG’s! By the way, just in case you have been living under a rock these past few months, Carnegies has now closed down. Sad times….. A moment of silence please.
In my opening paragraph I mentioned that I fondly look upon them. Before I get to explain why, let me explain why I used to look upon SPG’s with utter disdain. Well, apart from the general perception among Singaporeans about the despicability of SPG’s, my own opinion about them wasn’t so harsh, but nevertheless quite bad. I used to equate these women with being whores and used to wonder why they would so aggressively pursue a white man. I mean we all have our ‘types’ but to actually have a species by the name of SPG, these women have to have been doing something more . You don’t exactly get Indian women being branded as Saree-Prayer Girls or Big-Dong Worshippers, so why particularly Chinese women? Ignore the lame joke.
These are all questions I don’t have the answers to. The answers could probably lie in the over-hype of SPG’s- maybe it isn’t so prevalent-, maybe it lies in popular culture, where the white man is eternally the rescuer of the exotic and petite Chinese maiden. Perhaps the attraction lies in biological fact. Maybe white men really, truly have better endowed bodies (and Asian women have tighter than tight bodies). Maybe, maybe, maybe but that is not the point. My point is that my whole perspective has changed on discovering a particular girl’s blog who unabashedly calls herself a Sarong Party Girl. If you look to the right of my screen, she is forever immortalized in a link that will transport you to a world of titillating delight.
After reading the musings of her life, I have changed my perception of SPG’s. I do not now regard them as the scum of the earth. I realize it’s absolutely NONE of my business to judge a SPG. I’m not going to justify my current opinion but I am however going to ask you to go read her blog as soon as possible.
I just read her blog, laugh at it, appreciate it, express shock and sorrow at it and generally just enjoy it. Reading her blog has definitely become part of a routine that does not fail to interest me.
So cheers to the sarong party girls of our world that just put it out there. Fuck the world. Fuck your enemies. Fuck You. Fuck. Enjoy!
Take a peek into her life. I highly recommend it. I do not sometimes believe all what she says but she certainly knows how to spice up her blog. Some of you might make the connection between this girl’s blog and the life and times of the girls in SATC but instead of questioning the blog as pretentious garbage, just think of the possibilities if we could actually treat Singapore as the New York City of the East.
Woo hoo!
Time: 12.10am
Song of the moment: Freed from Desire- Gala
Sarong Party Girls or SPG’s, as we fondly (contemptuously) call them are a certain breed of Singaporean Chinese girls who exclusively date Caucasian men. I don’t know the exact roots of the word but could it have anything to do with Chinese girls waving their sarongs shyly (slyly?) at Caucasian men at parties? Too obvious? Furthermore, Chinese girls do not even wear sarongs…! Hmmm… But anyway, this is way off the point, as usual.
The first time I was out at Carnegies- infamously known among the Indian and Sri Lankan contingents at NUS as the place to get free entry, ladies-night-free-champagne and $5 vodka’s- my friend brought to my attention the activities of some pretty decent looking Chinese chicks. These girls were seriously strutting their stuff in front of 40-something sweaty, hairy and beery British men. The effect was almost comical as they alternated between looking aloof and performing some hysterical dance move more suited to the Lil’Kim’s of the world. Well my friend told me that these girls wanted to get with the ang-mohs (singlish term for Caucasian men). I was quite indifferent to this but my friend pulled me aside and whispered in my ear that in Singapore these girls were all over the place. He even said there was a term that applied to these women. And voila! That is how I found about SPG’s! By the way, just in case you have been living under a rock these past few months, Carnegies has now closed down. Sad times….. A moment of silence please.
In my opening paragraph I mentioned that I fondly look upon them. Before I get to explain why, let me explain why I used to look upon SPG’s with utter disdain. Well, apart from the general perception among Singaporeans about the despicability of SPG’s, my own opinion about them wasn’t so harsh, but nevertheless quite bad. I used to equate these women with being whores and used to wonder why they would so aggressively pursue a white man. I mean we all have our ‘types’ but to actually have a species by the name of SPG, these women have to have been doing something more . You don’t exactly get Indian women being branded as Saree-Prayer Girls or Big-Dong Worshippers, so why particularly Chinese women? Ignore the lame joke.
These are all questions I don’t have the answers to. The answers could probably lie in the over-hype of SPG’s- maybe it isn’t so prevalent-, maybe it lies in popular culture, where the white man is eternally the rescuer of the exotic and petite Chinese maiden. Perhaps the attraction lies in biological fact. Maybe white men really, truly have better endowed bodies (and Asian women have tighter than tight bodies). Maybe, maybe, maybe but that is not the point. My point is that my whole perspective has changed on discovering a particular girl’s blog who unabashedly calls herself a Sarong Party Girl. If you look to the right of my screen, she is forever immortalized in a link that will transport you to a world of titillating delight.
After reading the musings of her life, I have changed my perception of SPG’s. I do not now regard them as the scum of the earth. I realize it’s absolutely NONE of my business to judge a SPG. I’m not going to justify my current opinion but I am however going to ask you to go read her blog as soon as possible.
I just read her blog, laugh at it, appreciate it, express shock and sorrow at it and generally just enjoy it. Reading her blog has definitely become part of a routine that does not fail to interest me.
So cheers to the sarong party girls of our world that just put it out there. Fuck the world. Fuck your enemies. Fuck You. Fuck. Enjoy!
Take a peek into her life. I highly recommend it. I do not sometimes believe all what she says but she certainly knows how to spice up her blog. Some of you might make the connection between this girl’s blog and the life and times of the girls in SATC but instead of questioning the blog as pretentious garbage, just think of the possibilities if we could actually treat Singapore as the New York City of the East.
Woo hoo!
Friday, May 13, 2005
ftv,eye candy, sex in film 101
Date: 12th May
Time: 10.15pm
Discovery of the Moment: Fashion Television
Shite! We used to never get a clear reception on Fashion Television, FTV from now on, but due to some vague error made at our cable operator’s office, we now have crystal clear reception! It’s like a 24 hour feast for the eyes. Ok not 24 hours, but definitely at least 2-3 hours per day. I wake up today and since I was bored out of my mind I lend myself to channel surfing for a bit. HBO was showing some trashy horror flick with bad actors with even worse hairstyles. Star Movies was showing some 1970’s flick which of course I had no interest in because I like to see known faces. AXN was screening a particularly exciting episode of Amazing Race but like I said, I prefer to watch known faces and since I haven’t followed the latest season of the Race, I honestly don’t know who the bitchy or nice or lesbian or anorexic or overly-black couples are. Star Sports was showing the French Open with Juan Carlos Ferrero and Marat Safin on Centre Court at Roland Garros. Pretty damn electric the atmosphere was but after a while I got too sad to see Safin losing, so I changed the channel. And lo and behold, FTV switches on and I am hooked for the next 2 hours. They kept introducing these new models and I just couldn’t take my eyes off them. Sigh. I know now that I want to go to France this year for Christmas. Le sigh. Imagine, frolicking about the vineyards and squishing grapes underfoot and making sweet, exquisite love beside the fireplace? Dayem.
Speaking of amorous scenes, why is it that in every movie we see, there are only sexy, picture perfect, romantic scenes? Why is every romantic scene sensually and sexually idealized? I mean, if a love scene is not made incredibly hot, it is almost always because it’s not a love scene, but a rape or a sexual abuse scene. It’s always the case!!! Why is it never real? In real life the romance exists but it shares a comfortable resting place with the sweat and smell of everyday human existence. Is it very hard to imagine Diane Lane and Viggo Mortenson waking up and making a big effort not to smell each other’s breaths? We’ve seen such scenes before, but they’re always comic scenes, mostly between teenagers, with not a touch of romance.
You might argue that the inclusion of these ‘foul’ visuals might cause a scene to cease being romantic, but come now, we’ve all had relationships where sex and comfort zones have very easily co-existed, so why cringe at ‘real’ romance on screen? Maybe it’s because we look to the movies to provide an idealized world, but then how then can you explain our fascination with movies such as Saving Private Ryan, Silence of the Lambs and Hotel Rwanda? I think we, the audience can handle anything, even if it destroys the HOT (say it like your constipated) myth of sex.
With the sex we see on screen, it is hardly a wonder why generation upon generation keep growing up obsessed by sex. Romance is sex. Sex is romance. There is no room for romance to exist without sex. We look for sex, crave for it, masturbate over it, and commit crimes for it but then one day realization strikes.
That is why, when we end up in relationships, sex is seemingly less important. I stress the word ‘less’ because sex IS important, but just not AS important as intimacy or trust or…love. Sex is way overrated.
So what point am I trying to make here? I’m just trying to say that the movies idealize sex too much. They must make it more realistic. There is no doubt that films are probably one of the primary sources of influence on the youth of possibly every country. That is why, the portrayal of relationships and sex itself revolving around highly sexually charged idealized terms might not really be a good thing.
You must understand that I am not against showing sex on screen (hardly!) but I just think that portraying sex the way they do in most films just raises expectations beyond what sex can actually offer which is just pure release and momentary exhilaration. I shudder to think what I’m advocating here and I hope future generations don’t grow up completely devoid of a sex life but it would be nice to see sex being portrayed in a more realistic light. I mean sex can be hot, sensual, heart-stoppingly passionate but it can also be relaxed, comfortable, boring and obligatory. There needs to be an exploitation of all possible combinations. The 4 basic ones are:
Relationship-Hot Sex (sometimes portrayed, but quite rare don’t you think?)
No Relationship- Hot Sex (the only kind that has any place in most movies)
Relationship- Cold (or no) Sex
No Relationship- Cold (or no) Sex (ha ha, a ‘friendly’ movie perhaps?)
Sigh. If only I had the patience I would actually go back and articulate the mess that is above but I hope the general point is (relatively) clear. The general point, for reiteration’s sake, is:
1. In movies, sex shouldn’t always be passionate. Must be more realistic
2. In movies, and very interconnected with the above, sex, especially between two people in some kind of a relationship, shouldn’t be just about the sex.
Of course, if the storyline orders the stereotypical portrayal of sex, then so be it. However, an attitude change something along the lines of not viewing sex as some trick to get people to watch more intently and frequently is probably a good thing as it will enable Hollywood to churn out better informed films that are realistic and intelligent, i.e. not a porno.
Arghh.
P.S. Let this not discourage you. You are SURE of finding that perfect person who will arouse you emotionally, intellectually and sexually. But remember this person is also quite likely to piss you off, hurt you, drive you up the wall with their density and leave you craving for some hot lovin’. Muhuhaha.
Also, let me assure you, I am not a cynic. I’m a hopeless romantic but nevertheless quite objective which basically means that I try to ignore everything I write.
Time: 10.15pm
Discovery of the Moment: Fashion Television
Shite! We used to never get a clear reception on Fashion Television, FTV from now on, but due to some vague error made at our cable operator’s office, we now have crystal clear reception! It’s like a 24 hour feast for the eyes. Ok not 24 hours, but definitely at least 2-3 hours per day. I wake up today and since I was bored out of my mind I lend myself to channel surfing for a bit. HBO was showing some trashy horror flick with bad actors with even worse hairstyles. Star Movies was showing some 1970’s flick which of course I had no interest in because I like to see known faces. AXN was screening a particularly exciting episode of Amazing Race but like I said, I prefer to watch known faces and since I haven’t followed the latest season of the Race, I honestly don’t know who the bitchy or nice or lesbian or anorexic or overly-black couples are. Star Sports was showing the French Open with Juan Carlos Ferrero and Marat Safin on Centre Court at Roland Garros. Pretty damn electric the atmosphere was but after a while I got too sad to see Safin losing, so I changed the channel. And lo and behold, FTV switches on and I am hooked for the next 2 hours. They kept introducing these new models and I just couldn’t take my eyes off them. Sigh. I know now that I want to go to France this year for Christmas. Le sigh. Imagine, frolicking about the vineyards and squishing grapes underfoot and making sweet, exquisite love beside the fireplace? Dayem.
Speaking of amorous scenes, why is it that in every movie we see, there are only sexy, picture perfect, romantic scenes? Why is every romantic scene sensually and sexually idealized? I mean, if a love scene is not made incredibly hot, it is almost always because it’s not a love scene, but a rape or a sexual abuse scene. It’s always the case!!! Why is it never real? In real life the romance exists but it shares a comfortable resting place with the sweat and smell of everyday human existence. Is it very hard to imagine Diane Lane and Viggo Mortenson waking up and making a big effort not to smell each other’s breaths? We’ve seen such scenes before, but they’re always comic scenes, mostly between teenagers, with not a touch of romance.
You might argue that the inclusion of these ‘foul’ visuals might cause a scene to cease being romantic, but come now, we’ve all had relationships where sex and comfort zones have very easily co-existed, so why cringe at ‘real’ romance on screen? Maybe it’s because we look to the movies to provide an idealized world, but then how then can you explain our fascination with movies such as Saving Private Ryan, Silence of the Lambs and Hotel Rwanda? I think we, the audience can handle anything, even if it destroys the HOT (say it like your constipated) myth of sex.
With the sex we see on screen, it is hardly a wonder why generation upon generation keep growing up obsessed by sex. Romance is sex. Sex is romance. There is no room for romance to exist without sex. We look for sex, crave for it, masturbate over it, and commit crimes for it but then one day realization strikes.
That is why, when we end up in relationships, sex is seemingly less important. I stress the word ‘less’ because sex IS important, but just not AS important as intimacy or trust or…love. Sex is way overrated.
So what point am I trying to make here? I’m just trying to say that the movies idealize sex too much. They must make it more realistic. There is no doubt that films are probably one of the primary sources of influence on the youth of possibly every country. That is why, the portrayal of relationships and sex itself revolving around highly sexually charged idealized terms might not really be a good thing.
You must understand that I am not against showing sex on screen (hardly!) but I just think that portraying sex the way they do in most films just raises expectations beyond what sex can actually offer which is just pure release and momentary exhilaration. I shudder to think what I’m advocating here and I hope future generations don’t grow up completely devoid of a sex life but it would be nice to see sex being portrayed in a more realistic light. I mean sex can be hot, sensual, heart-stoppingly passionate but it can also be relaxed, comfortable, boring and obligatory. There needs to be an exploitation of all possible combinations. The 4 basic ones are:
Relationship-Hot Sex (sometimes portrayed, but quite rare don’t you think?)
No Relationship- Hot Sex (the only kind that has any place in most movies)
Relationship- Cold (or no) Sex
No Relationship- Cold (or no) Sex (ha ha, a ‘friendly’ movie perhaps?)
Sigh. If only I had the patience I would actually go back and articulate the mess that is above but I hope the general point is (relatively) clear. The general point, for reiteration’s sake, is:
1. In movies, sex shouldn’t always be passionate. Must be more realistic
2. In movies, and very interconnected with the above, sex, especially between two people in some kind of a relationship, shouldn’t be just about the sex.
Of course, if the storyline orders the stereotypical portrayal of sex, then so be it. However, an attitude change something along the lines of not viewing sex as some trick to get people to watch more intently and frequently is probably a good thing as it will enable Hollywood to churn out better informed films that are realistic and intelligent, i.e. not a porno.
Arghh.
P.S. Let this not discourage you. You are SURE of finding that perfect person who will arouse you emotionally, intellectually and sexually. But remember this person is also quite likely to piss you off, hurt you, drive you up the wall with their density and leave you craving for some hot lovin’. Muhuhaha.
Also, let me assure you, I am not a cynic. I’m a hopeless romantic but nevertheless quite objective which basically means that I try to ignore everything I write.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
sexual excess
Ok so I thought I would put up an article which I wrote sometime back for the campus magazine. Unfortunately for me, the article was not published on account of it being too much of an attack on the Singapore government and also because it had a very sombre tone.
I’m not going to defend the article. It probably has loads of flaws. I just wanted to make a point and that is why I am publishing it here coz I really needed to get the message out.
So read it and please do leave your comments behind.
The Gravity of HIV/AIDS
Barely 25 years ago- in 1981- the first case of AIDS was diagnosed. By the mid 80’s there were multitudes of patients dying of this plague. AIDS was a very unique disease as it had no symptoms of its own, it borrowed the worst from cancer, pneumonia, dementia, oral thrush, blood poisoning, blindness and bowel disease to create a condition that was horrifying in its plethora of suffering. Have I scared you enough? This is just the tip of the iceberg. From here on, the cocktail of drugs that is given to you to suppress the symptoms only make you weaker, it is like being on a 24 hour cycle of nauseating, writhing chemotherapy, and slowly, but surely, you wilt, you decay away in fervent agony.
It has been 25 whole years and still, the gravity of this disease has not been fully appreciated. It certainly has been recognized and action is being taken by quite a few associations in Singapore and worldwide, but people, the common mass, the participants of the great nation that Singapore has become, where do they stand? What do people think about AIDS and HIV? Like most people, they know of the risks, they know of the consequences, but do they really believe that this disease will strike them because it is their own actions that might land them with the illness in the first place?
The 1960’s and the 70’s were times in which you could jump into the sack with anyone you felt like. Possibly the worst thing that could come with this moment of passion/love/loneliness/one tiny lamentable lapse in judgment was pregnancy and even then, you could hope for a joyful reunion between partners and parents when the baby was born (or not). However, nowadays, having sex with a whole army of faceless, nameless strangers is likely to land you with a death sentence and believe you me, it’s not just one fancy lethal injection (or one clean slice of head) putting you to death. Is that one extra orgasm worth it?
The disease first became evident in the homosexual community and through this the community (forever) earned itself the distinction of churning out patients of this dreadful, long suffering, incurable terminal disease. This stereotype operates under the existence of massive amounts of evidence to show that AIDS and HIV have transcended all boundaries of sexual orientation. It is a fact that of the 898 people who have been diagnosed as HIV positive since the year 2000, an overwhelming 81% of them have been heterosexual. Speeches that are given by state leaders choose to ignore these statistics and brand the homosexual community as prime transmitters of this disease. This ignorance and blind prejudice have the potential to counter any sort of effective reduction of AIDS and HIV among the population through new polices and speeches.
Firstly, the heterosexual community, through ‘credible’ sources of information may become complacent to the danger of multiple sexual partners. The complacency is fatalistic especially since the heterosexual victims of HIV far outnumber the homosexuals and the intravenous drug users. Do we really want to see the majority of the population thinking they are safe from such risks when it is so obvious that the virus doesn’t spare anyone? Secondly, the homosexual community has always pointed to the government for not recognizing them as outstanding citizens who contribute to the good of the country and therefore they have criticized the government for not educating them, particularly them, about the dangers of (unsafe) sexual excess. This has resulted in ignorant sex escapades (sexcapades to the word-savvy) and rebellious sex which have obviously resulted in more and more HIV positive tests and more and more lives destroyed.
Therefore what is the verdict here for Singapore? To strive for a more cosmopolitan, more tolerant, better educated Singapore it cannot have two communities and a government pointing fingers at each other and being complacent and flippant of actions that could cost them their lives. Education about the disease will not work if opinion leaders, in their role of exactly who they are, creators of opinions, talk nonsense. Mindsets have to be changed. The disease exists; we need to deal with it. Singapore cannot debate the causality of such problems through a myopic lens, it needs to expand, grow up and realize that judgments will not scare the horror away, it will only nurture it.
I’m not going to defend the article. It probably has loads of flaws. I just wanted to make a point and that is why I am publishing it here coz I really needed to get the message out.
So read it and please do leave your comments behind.
The Gravity of HIV/AIDS
Barely 25 years ago- in 1981- the first case of AIDS was diagnosed. By the mid 80’s there were multitudes of patients dying of this plague. AIDS was a very unique disease as it had no symptoms of its own, it borrowed the worst from cancer, pneumonia, dementia, oral thrush, blood poisoning, blindness and bowel disease to create a condition that was horrifying in its plethora of suffering. Have I scared you enough? This is just the tip of the iceberg. From here on, the cocktail of drugs that is given to you to suppress the symptoms only make you weaker, it is like being on a 24 hour cycle of nauseating, writhing chemotherapy, and slowly, but surely, you wilt, you decay away in fervent agony.
It has been 25 whole years and still, the gravity of this disease has not been fully appreciated. It certainly has been recognized and action is being taken by quite a few associations in Singapore and worldwide, but people, the common mass, the participants of the great nation that Singapore has become, where do they stand? What do people think about AIDS and HIV? Like most people, they know of the risks, they know of the consequences, but do they really believe that this disease will strike them because it is their own actions that might land them with the illness in the first place?
The 1960’s and the 70’s were times in which you could jump into the sack with anyone you felt like. Possibly the worst thing that could come with this moment of passion/love/loneliness/one tiny lamentable lapse in judgment was pregnancy and even then, you could hope for a joyful reunion between partners and parents when the baby was born (or not). However, nowadays, having sex with a whole army of faceless, nameless strangers is likely to land you with a death sentence and believe you me, it’s not just one fancy lethal injection (or one clean slice of head) putting you to death. Is that one extra orgasm worth it?
The disease first became evident in the homosexual community and through this the community (forever) earned itself the distinction of churning out patients of this dreadful, long suffering, incurable terminal disease. This stereotype operates under the existence of massive amounts of evidence to show that AIDS and HIV have transcended all boundaries of sexual orientation. It is a fact that of the 898 people who have been diagnosed as HIV positive since the year 2000, an overwhelming 81% of them have been heterosexual. Speeches that are given by state leaders choose to ignore these statistics and brand the homosexual community as prime transmitters of this disease. This ignorance and blind prejudice have the potential to counter any sort of effective reduction of AIDS and HIV among the population through new polices and speeches.
Firstly, the heterosexual community, through ‘credible’ sources of information may become complacent to the danger of multiple sexual partners. The complacency is fatalistic especially since the heterosexual victims of HIV far outnumber the homosexuals and the intravenous drug users. Do we really want to see the majority of the population thinking they are safe from such risks when it is so obvious that the virus doesn’t spare anyone? Secondly, the homosexual community has always pointed to the government for not recognizing them as outstanding citizens who contribute to the good of the country and therefore they have criticized the government for not educating them, particularly them, about the dangers of (unsafe) sexual excess. This has resulted in ignorant sex escapades (sexcapades to the word-savvy) and rebellious sex which have obviously resulted in more and more HIV positive tests and more and more lives destroyed.
Therefore what is the verdict here for Singapore? To strive for a more cosmopolitan, more tolerant, better educated Singapore it cannot have two communities and a government pointing fingers at each other and being complacent and flippant of actions that could cost them their lives. Education about the disease will not work if opinion leaders, in their role of exactly who they are, creators of opinions, talk nonsense. Mindsets have to be changed. The disease exists; we need to deal with it. Singapore cannot debate the causality of such problems through a myopic lens, it needs to expand, grow up and realize that judgments will not scare the horror away, it will only nurture it.
part of labour force?
Date: 11th May
Time: 10.38pm
Song of the moment: You’re Still the One- Shania Twain
I know, I know it’s really mushy. Not my fault my play list keeps throwing these songs at me. I don’t hate this song too much to change it. Actually, contrary to the popular perception that this song is a depressing song, the memories this song evokes are very positive ones. And they’re not even like romantic memories. It reminds me of my trip to Bangalore I think in 1999 or 2000 when we used to just sit around and bitch about stuff in general. This song, I remember was always playing on the radio. Shania Twain was pretty hot, in a popular sense, at that time. Ha ha
I just finished watching American Idol. Somehow watching it at home is not the same as watching it back in Singapore. I think at home it’s like any other TV program because we have sooo much time for television so therefore it ceases to be such an exciting experience. L.O.S.E.R. In Singapore, I shove aside all other ‘distractions’ just to watch the damn program. Today I just strolled lazily from one room to the other to watch it and it didn’t even matter I was about 10 minutes late. Ew. Topics to blog about are severely drying up.
Ah yes, my interview. I woke up around 9am for the specific purpose of calling up Leo Burnett Solutions to set up an interview time. Well, to my shock and horror, I’m told to come at 12pm. Gross. Unfortunately, the shock and horror was not enough to prevent sleep from shrouding me into a bubble of ignorance. Woke up with a start at 10 45am. SHIT. So I hurriedly brush my teeth and complete all the other necessary morning duties: shower, shave, shit etc. I then find out that all my good clothes are at the laundry. Oh great! I have nothing appropriate to wear. So I dig into my wardrobe and pull out an oversize 40cm white shirt and a pair of pinstripe trousers. I quickly change into them and feel very uncomfortable because I really do feel like a P.U.D.D.I.N.G. Rush to interview without tie. Shock! Horror! Faint! I had a gorgeous black tie which has a mix between a matt and glossy effect but unfortunately, I don’t know how to tie it. And my mom, who knows how to tie a kick-ass one, is very slow and I was just toooo late.
I practically fall into the offices of Leo Burnett at 12 15pm. Luckily, I’m not considered late at all! Yay! I heart the lazy culture of SL. My prospective boss, Michael Holsinger, comes out to greet me, very flamboyantly, with a cigarette between his fingers. Things are looking up!!! I’m telling you, the first thought I had in my head was to ask him for a bit of a drag on that wonderful smelling cigarette. (I haven’t smoked since, OMG, 8th May).
Well, he hurriedly tells me the internship starts on the 1st of June. He asks me a few redundant questions which I answer quite confidently even though they are a bunch of lies. For example:
Holsinger: Why advertising?
Me: I have always been fascinated by the world of advertising. Day in and day out we are surrounded by hundreds of advertisements and only a few make a positive impression on us. I would like to find out how companies such as yours design ads that make people look twice at a product offering. Also, studying marketing at NUS has only increased my interest in the area of advertising as it involves getting to know the consumer and this, to me is infinitely interesting.
There were quite a number of errs and ahh’s in my speech but I think the final product was quite impressive. I mean, if there’s anything I can do well, its bullshitting for sure! The sentence is quite incoherent on paper but I think when it was voiced out, without too much analysis, it comes across as quite an intelligent answer. I WOULD never cut corners like this in Singapore, but people in Sri Lanka told me to chill, so I chilled, a bit too much for my liking.
Anyway, I’m actually clueless as to why I chose advertising in particular but it just seemed the most obvious choice especially because I know some friends who have worked there before.
Ok so I am officially almost part of the labour force now! I’m very excited! I get to buy new clothes for office wear and also get to put all those business-like looks I have on my usual countenance to good use. The aloof-look might go particularly well or not. I think I shall reserve the aloof-look for day to day activities and on the dance floor when I want to appear a bit disinterested even though I am interested (horny) as hell. Who says I can’t play games? Ha ha ha.
The heat….is….taking…its….toll….on….me. I can’t stand it. Even in Colombo, you start sweating before you hop out of the shower. The sweat is here to stay. Hopefully the monsoons will hit soon and won’t go away for some time.
Song of the moment: Hallelujah- Rufus Wainwright (just ended) and Tu mile Dil Khile- OST Criminal
Time: 10.38pm
Song of the moment: You’re Still the One- Shania Twain
I know, I know it’s really mushy. Not my fault my play list keeps throwing these songs at me. I don’t hate this song too much to change it. Actually, contrary to the popular perception that this song is a depressing song, the memories this song evokes are very positive ones. And they’re not even like romantic memories. It reminds me of my trip to Bangalore I think in 1999 or 2000 when we used to just sit around and bitch about stuff in general. This song, I remember was always playing on the radio. Shania Twain was pretty hot, in a popular sense, at that time. Ha ha
I just finished watching American Idol. Somehow watching it at home is not the same as watching it back in Singapore. I think at home it’s like any other TV program because we have sooo much time for television so therefore it ceases to be such an exciting experience. L.O.S.E.R. In Singapore, I shove aside all other ‘distractions’ just to watch the damn program. Today I just strolled lazily from one room to the other to watch it and it didn’t even matter I was about 10 minutes late. Ew. Topics to blog about are severely drying up.
Ah yes, my interview. I woke up around 9am for the specific purpose of calling up Leo Burnett Solutions to set up an interview time. Well, to my shock and horror, I’m told to come at 12pm. Gross. Unfortunately, the shock and horror was not enough to prevent sleep from shrouding me into a bubble of ignorance. Woke up with a start at 10 45am. SHIT. So I hurriedly brush my teeth and complete all the other necessary morning duties: shower, shave, shit etc. I then find out that all my good clothes are at the laundry. Oh great! I have nothing appropriate to wear. So I dig into my wardrobe and pull out an oversize 40cm white shirt and a pair of pinstripe trousers. I quickly change into them and feel very uncomfortable because I really do feel like a P.U.D.D.I.N.G. Rush to interview without tie. Shock! Horror! Faint! I had a gorgeous black tie which has a mix between a matt and glossy effect but unfortunately, I don’t know how to tie it. And my mom, who knows how to tie a kick-ass one, is very slow and I was just toooo late.
I practically fall into the offices of Leo Burnett at 12 15pm. Luckily, I’m not considered late at all! Yay! I heart the lazy culture of SL. My prospective boss, Michael Holsinger, comes out to greet me, very flamboyantly, with a cigarette between his fingers. Things are looking up!!! I’m telling you, the first thought I had in my head was to ask him for a bit of a drag on that wonderful smelling cigarette. (I haven’t smoked since, OMG, 8th May).
Well, he hurriedly tells me the internship starts on the 1st of June. He asks me a few redundant questions which I answer quite confidently even though they are a bunch of lies. For example:
Holsinger: Why advertising?
Me: I have always been fascinated by the world of advertising. Day in and day out we are surrounded by hundreds of advertisements and only a few make a positive impression on us. I would like to find out how companies such as yours design ads that make people look twice at a product offering. Also, studying marketing at NUS has only increased my interest in the area of advertising as it involves getting to know the consumer and this, to me is infinitely interesting.
There were quite a number of errs and ahh’s in my speech but I think the final product was quite impressive. I mean, if there’s anything I can do well, its bullshitting for sure! The sentence is quite incoherent on paper but I think when it was voiced out, without too much analysis, it comes across as quite an intelligent answer. I WOULD never cut corners like this in Singapore, but people in Sri Lanka told me to chill, so I chilled, a bit too much for my liking.
Anyway, I’m actually clueless as to why I chose advertising in particular but it just seemed the most obvious choice especially because I know some friends who have worked there before.
Ok so I am officially almost part of the labour force now! I’m very excited! I get to buy new clothes for office wear and also get to put all those business-like looks I have on my usual countenance to good use. The aloof-look might go particularly well or not. I think I shall reserve the aloof-look for day to day activities and on the dance floor when I want to appear a bit disinterested even though I am interested (horny) as hell. Who says I can’t play games? Ha ha ha.
The heat….is….taking…its….toll….on….me. I can’t stand it. Even in Colombo, you start sweating before you hop out of the shower. The sweat is here to stay. Hopefully the monsoons will hit soon and won’t go away for some time.
Song of the moment: Hallelujah- Rufus Wainwright (just ended) and Tu mile Dil Khile- OST Criminal
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
plodding along
Date: May 10th
Time: 11.50pm
Today was a vaguely satisfying day. Called up my prospective place of work and they told me to come for a preliminary appointment tomorrow. Well, I certainly was (mis)led to believe I had already got this internship but now apparently they want an interview. This kinda sucks! Who knows what b.s might come out of my mouth during the interview? I spoke to some of my friends who have worked at this place before and they told me that I already have the internship and they just do the interview thing to keep up appearances of credibility. I certainly hope that I get this place because it really does sound like a good place to work and apparently, the dress code is quite casual. I mean it’s not casual to the point of wearing shorts (aww shucks!) but its good enough to excuse not wearing a tie. In fact, I am told that they actually encourage a slightly less formal look. It’s all very informal, familiar but still very, very professional. Sounds kinda exciting! Let us see, I’m sure I can’t really trust anyone’s opinion until I actually start work there at which point I wouldn’t have to trust anyone anymore as I would already have the necessary experience to judge for myself!! I have trust issues.
Nadeeka called today. She had apparently had a very bad time checking in at the Singapore airport. They made her take out 10kgs of stuff out of her luggage. Luckily, some of her friends had come to the airport to drop her off, so she could easily give it to them. Well yeah, she called and we had a bit of an argument. She accused me of having a bad attitude regarding leading women on. She told me that in the past I have lead women on and not really repented about it in later times. She told me that my indifference on the issue really bugged her. I told her:
it’s all in the past
it doesn’t happen anymore
and that when it did happen, I did it without the faintest idea of what I was getting myself into. There was no conscious decision to play around and fuck up people’s feelings. Hell, I’ve been in the hurt-feelings department too many times for me to actually inflict that kind of pain intentionally.
Well I couldn’t really convince her because she says it has happened too many times for it to be ignored. She said it has happened FOUR times. Haiz. I can honestly say that it has happened THREE times and really, I had no idea what I was doing. I’m ashamed about it but I don’t necessarily show it. Nadeeka just kind of blurted it out and I understand her discomfort for thinking she’s hanging around some kind of hypocritical monster but why SHOULD I show my true feelings to anyone? Actions speak louder than words and I KNOW I act responsibly these days. Anyway, I hope this just blows over because it’s really put a bad taste in my mouth. My feelings are my feelings and even though I’ve had my fair share of guilt over the above matters, I don’t care to carry this guilt throughout my life. And it’s the past… guess its kind of true when they say that past actions do come back to haunt you. [Refer to prior post: Karma]
Well anyways, today went to the mall. By mall I mean, Majestic City. It’s the Mustafa Centre of Colombo. Except it’s far more sleazier. It’s also a major pick up joint. The hallowed halls of MC (as we fondly call it) are welcome to both heterosexual and homosexual pimps, prostitutes and civilians. So why did I go there in the first place? But first, I firmly reiterate my status as a civilian. I go there because it is the closest mall to my house. It is also close to the best bookshop in Colombo. MC also has some decent shops which offer a good selection of whatever you might want: groceries, chocolates, greeting cards, perfumes, clothes (not so much), ties, boxers and pirated CD’s and DVD’s. So I go there with one of my friends and we just shop around trying to find me a pair of slippers for rough use. But no such luck! Everything was either very goday (Sinhalese term for v.v.tacky) or quite expensive.
I come home empty handed except for two blank video cassettes for mom and pack of sanitary napkins for sister. But fret not! I start reading Ken Follet’s latest: Whiteout. It seems like any other thriller capitalizing on the paranoia that sprang up during the ‘intentional’ spread of anthrax following the September 11th 2001 incident. However, Follet does have a flair for hooking the reader from the first page onwards and after reading Rohinton Mistry’s Family Matters, I do feel the need to read trashy, but deliciously good thrillers.
At around 9pm, my school friends call me to ask if I’m in the mood to go for a drive with them. Of course I said yes!!
Oh before I get any further, Ashanie came over for lunch today!!! She was on her lunch break! Yes! People! Ashanie! Is! Working! Anyway that was kind of fun and amusing. And poor girl, we aren’t a very hospitable kind of peoples but she’s very understanding. In Singapore, I hate people arriving unannounced to my room. I HATE IT. Now I know for sure where I get it from. It’s in the fricking gene pool of my family!! At home however, I don’t mind people dropping over and it was fun seeing the woman again all conservatively dressed up.
Ah yes, where was I? Oh yeah school friends. Nishanthi, Inoshi and Mindhika come by to pick me up and we went to have coffee at Barista. It was a very casual and fun kind of thing. All we did was catch up a bit on each other’s lives in the past 5 months or so and just had coffee. Sigh. I have missed them. And according to them, I’ve sent them a record two emails this semester. They were thrilled as it certainly is two more than I’ve ever written. I told you I was distracted beyond belief this past semester.
One of our sample conversations:
Nishanthi (voice dripping with disdain and very pointedly): Are your NUS friends down in Colombo too?
Me: Yeah, why?
Nishanthi: Coz they suck
Me: You’re just jealous
I’m meeting them this Friday at some club and both the girls have promised me they will get drunk. Both these women have firmly asserted their vows on abstinence of alcohol and for that matter sex, many, many times before but somehow during the past 5 months they’ve had the balls to try out drinking and they’ve had a gala time getting high and making fools of themselves while Mindhika stands on the sidelines with the disapproving look of a Sinhalese-Buddhist priest cum father. Ha ha. Clap on back for superbly executed double entendre.
Gosh. My blogs are incorrigibly long and boring. I am after all highly bored and highly depressed coz I can’t even masturbate in peace.
Anyway, I do want to leave my comments on some movies I have watched in the past few days but I am afraid this post might be a bit too long. Ah fuck it. I shall.
Coach Carter: B
This is an out and out black film. It’s full of black men (and women) doing their usual African-American thing. It’s about an inspiring coach who dedicates himself to err... coaching a down and out basketball team full of deviants with low scores. Think non-kiasu jock types. Anyway, it’s an unoriginal movie but it’s a true story so it’s kinda hard to critique the movie’s staid plot. I give this movie a solid B because of Samuel L. Jackson’s reasonably good acting, the music which is fucking awesome and the matches which are quite enjoyable to watch.
Kingdom of Heaven: B+
This is an epic film directed by Ridley Scott. It is set in 12th century Europe and it is based on the Crusades. I don’t know much about the crusades so therefore I couldn’t get the nitty gritty of this movie but I understood the larger picture (much like getting the gist of any Hindi movie without subtitles). The sets are awesome (although nothing new compared to LOTR and Troy) and the background score is pretty amazing. It’s heavily fused with Arabic music and the effect is nothing short of ethereal.
The Interpreter: A-
I’ve said this before so I won’t spend too much time on this. It’s an understated, brilliantly acted thriller much like Collateral. Watch this even before Kingdom of Heaven.
Summer Storm: B-
This movie was surprisingly quite stereotypical. It’s about two best friends. One gay, one straight. One in love with the other who is in love with a girl. They both go to Rowing Camp where they compete against a team by the name of Queerstrokes (jeez, rolling eyes). Now, this team is entirely gay. So what now? Do straight people sue for sexual discrimination? Basically the story line revolves around how both sides grow to accept each other through a process of trial and error and by living life as it is. It’s a coming of age flick. It is kinda emotional at some points but not enough to get out the tissues.
Song of the moment: Now we are free- Enya
God Bless
Time: 11.50pm
Today was a vaguely satisfying day. Called up my prospective place of work and they told me to come for a preliminary appointment tomorrow. Well, I certainly was (mis)led to believe I had already got this internship but now apparently they want an interview. This kinda sucks! Who knows what b.s might come out of my mouth during the interview? I spoke to some of my friends who have worked at this place before and they told me that I already have the internship and they just do the interview thing to keep up appearances of credibility. I certainly hope that I get this place because it really does sound like a good place to work and apparently, the dress code is quite casual. I mean it’s not casual to the point of wearing shorts (aww shucks!) but its good enough to excuse not wearing a tie. In fact, I am told that they actually encourage a slightly less formal look. It’s all very informal, familiar but still very, very professional. Sounds kinda exciting! Let us see, I’m sure I can’t really trust anyone’s opinion until I actually start work there at which point I wouldn’t have to trust anyone anymore as I would already have the necessary experience to judge for myself!! I have trust issues.
Nadeeka called today. She had apparently had a very bad time checking in at the Singapore airport. They made her take out 10kgs of stuff out of her luggage. Luckily, some of her friends had come to the airport to drop her off, so she could easily give it to them. Well yeah, she called and we had a bit of an argument. She accused me of having a bad attitude regarding leading women on. She told me that in the past I have lead women on and not really repented about it in later times. She told me that my indifference on the issue really bugged her. I told her:
it’s all in the past
it doesn’t happen anymore
and that when it did happen, I did it without the faintest idea of what I was getting myself into. There was no conscious decision to play around and fuck up people’s feelings. Hell, I’ve been in the hurt-feelings department too many times for me to actually inflict that kind of pain intentionally.
Well I couldn’t really convince her because she says it has happened too many times for it to be ignored. She said it has happened FOUR times. Haiz. I can honestly say that it has happened THREE times and really, I had no idea what I was doing. I’m ashamed about it but I don’t necessarily show it. Nadeeka just kind of blurted it out and I understand her discomfort for thinking she’s hanging around some kind of hypocritical monster but why SHOULD I show my true feelings to anyone? Actions speak louder than words and I KNOW I act responsibly these days. Anyway, I hope this just blows over because it’s really put a bad taste in my mouth. My feelings are my feelings and even though I’ve had my fair share of guilt over the above matters, I don’t care to carry this guilt throughout my life. And it’s the past… guess its kind of true when they say that past actions do come back to haunt you. [Refer to prior post: Karma]
Well anyways, today went to the mall. By mall I mean, Majestic City. It’s the Mustafa Centre of Colombo. Except it’s far more sleazier. It’s also a major pick up joint. The hallowed halls of MC (as we fondly call it) are welcome to both heterosexual and homosexual pimps, prostitutes and civilians. So why did I go there in the first place? But first, I firmly reiterate my status as a civilian. I go there because it is the closest mall to my house. It is also close to the best bookshop in Colombo. MC also has some decent shops which offer a good selection of whatever you might want: groceries, chocolates, greeting cards, perfumes, clothes (not so much), ties, boxers and pirated CD’s and DVD’s. So I go there with one of my friends and we just shop around trying to find me a pair of slippers for rough use. But no such luck! Everything was either very goday (Sinhalese term for v.v.tacky) or quite expensive.
I come home empty handed except for two blank video cassettes for mom and pack of sanitary napkins for sister. But fret not! I start reading Ken Follet’s latest: Whiteout. It seems like any other thriller capitalizing on the paranoia that sprang up during the ‘intentional’ spread of anthrax following the September 11th 2001 incident. However, Follet does have a flair for hooking the reader from the first page onwards and after reading Rohinton Mistry’s Family Matters, I do feel the need to read trashy, but deliciously good thrillers.
At around 9pm, my school friends call me to ask if I’m in the mood to go for a drive with them. Of course I said yes!!
Oh before I get any further, Ashanie came over for lunch today!!! She was on her lunch break! Yes! People! Ashanie! Is! Working! Anyway that was kind of fun and amusing. And poor girl, we aren’t a very hospitable kind of peoples but she’s very understanding. In Singapore, I hate people arriving unannounced to my room. I HATE IT. Now I know for sure where I get it from. It’s in the fricking gene pool of my family!! At home however, I don’t mind people dropping over and it was fun seeing the woman again all conservatively dressed up.
Ah yes, where was I? Oh yeah school friends. Nishanthi, Inoshi and Mindhika come by to pick me up and we went to have coffee at Barista. It was a very casual and fun kind of thing. All we did was catch up a bit on each other’s lives in the past 5 months or so and just had coffee. Sigh. I have missed them. And according to them, I’ve sent them a record two emails this semester. They were thrilled as it certainly is two more than I’ve ever written. I told you I was distracted beyond belief this past semester.
One of our sample conversations:
Nishanthi (voice dripping with disdain and very pointedly): Are your NUS friends down in Colombo too?
Me: Yeah, why?
Nishanthi: Coz they suck
Me: You’re just jealous
I’m meeting them this Friday at some club and both the girls have promised me they will get drunk. Both these women have firmly asserted their vows on abstinence of alcohol and for that matter sex, many, many times before but somehow during the past 5 months they’ve had the balls to try out drinking and they’ve had a gala time getting high and making fools of themselves while Mindhika stands on the sidelines with the disapproving look of a Sinhalese-Buddhist priest cum father. Ha ha. Clap on back for superbly executed double entendre.
Gosh. My blogs are incorrigibly long and boring. I am after all highly bored and highly depressed coz I can’t even masturbate in peace.
Anyway, I do want to leave my comments on some movies I have watched in the past few days but I am afraid this post might be a bit too long. Ah fuck it. I shall.
Coach Carter: B
This is an out and out black film. It’s full of black men (and women) doing their usual African-American thing. It’s about an inspiring coach who dedicates himself to err... coaching a down and out basketball team full of deviants with low scores. Think non-kiasu jock types. Anyway, it’s an unoriginal movie but it’s a true story so it’s kinda hard to critique the movie’s staid plot. I give this movie a solid B because of Samuel L. Jackson’s reasonably good acting, the music which is fucking awesome and the matches which are quite enjoyable to watch.
Kingdom of Heaven: B+
This is an epic film directed by Ridley Scott. It is set in 12th century Europe and it is based on the Crusades. I don’t know much about the crusades so therefore I couldn’t get the nitty gritty of this movie but I understood the larger picture (much like getting the gist of any Hindi movie without subtitles). The sets are awesome (although nothing new compared to LOTR and Troy) and the background score is pretty amazing. It’s heavily fused with Arabic music and the effect is nothing short of ethereal.
The Interpreter: A-
I’ve said this before so I won’t spend too much time on this. It’s an understated, brilliantly acted thriller much like Collateral. Watch this even before Kingdom of Heaven.
Summer Storm: B-
This movie was surprisingly quite stereotypical. It’s about two best friends. One gay, one straight. One in love with the other who is in love with a girl. They both go to Rowing Camp where they compete against a team by the name of Queerstrokes (jeez, rolling eyes). Now, this team is entirely gay. So what now? Do straight people sue for sexual discrimination? Basically the story line revolves around how both sides grow to accept each other through a process of trial and error and by living life as it is. It’s a coming of age flick. It is kinda emotional at some points but not enough to get out the tissues.
Song of the moment: Now we are free- Enya
God Bless
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
trade-offs
Time: May 9th- 11.36am
Location: Colombo, Sri Lanka
Here I am, sitting in Mom’s room, punching away my latest blog update on MS Word as the Sri Lankan Internet connection sucks. The A/C is working marvellously and I am quite comfortable. My body is very sore as I was moving out yesterday. Carrying boxes and pieces of luggage down the stairs not only makes you look like a sweaty imbecile but also makes you work muscles that have never been worked before, which, in my case, is every single muscle in my body. Therefore sitting on my mom’s bed, what with its special ergonomic mattress and the coolness wafting over me, is purely pleasurable.
So let me tell you about my trip and the events that led up to it. My cousin came around 7.15pm to help me shift out my stuff. I was a bit apprehensive that he might meet K, who had kindly offered to bring me dinner to my room. But thankfully, my cousin just helped me with my stuff, packed up into his expensive convertible and drove away. So K came over and we ate our dinner in peace. After dinner, just getting down to a bit of last minute lovin’ when there’s a knock on the door. A bit of panic but anyway, kept a poker face and opened the door. The said interruption was heavily suspicious but hopefully, with our superbly executed lies, the suspicion was replaced with wide eyed wonderment and normal talk. It felt superbly executed but come now, how dense can people be?
Well anyway, after interruption’s exit, we just fooled around a bit and nothing more. It did feel good but unfortunately, however much I just wanted (needed) to lie there I couldn’t because you know, in these situations, common sense has a way of making its presence felt. After the horniness had faded away, we said our goodbyes and I just had no choice but to get about packing up my stuff. My friend came over and we headed to the airport.
Check-in was not a problem and browsing the duty free at Changi Airport was, as always, quite enjoyable. It really does feel like we’re grabbing onto the final strands of first-worldliness before going back to our underdeveloped nations. Thank God for being Upper Middle Class! I’m sorry, I can’t say I would actually like being poor. Hate me, I don’t care.
The flight itself was not bad. The food was altogether underwhelming. It was curried fish (the other option was beef, which is really strange because I thought that most international flights don’t serve beef or pork in their main courses. I find it severely restricting and very unprofessional. I mean the whole point in offering us a choice is to actually give us two options for the sake of providing an excellent service not for the purpose of covering their bases in case they are not religiously sensitive. Offering fish and chicken both, therefore, is religiously tactful AND is excellent service) with rice. The dessert was some sticky rice like thing in date sauce. Not bad except for the fact that the plane, at the moment I was eating my dessert, ran into a bout of severe turbulence. The plate of dessert jumped out of my hands and thankfully landed safely into the tray but my heart (and recently-filled stomach) did a different kind of jumping about. Seriously it was scary because I have never experienced this kind of turbulence before. It started with the usual mild bumps here and there and then suddenly the plane buckled downwards for as much as 5-7 seconds which, my dear friends, is quite a long period of time. The pilot called for all his crew to settle down to the nearest empty seats but after like two minutes of relative calm, business went about as usual.
Coming back home was quite fun. My friend dropped me and we just laughed the entire trip home. It takes around 50 minutes to drive from the airport to the main city and during that time, we just cracked each other up. My friend’s brother, who came to pick us up, was not too pleased considering he had been forced to accompany the specially hired driver, a complete stranger, to the airport in the middle of night on order of the father!! Hee Hee. Tsk Tsk.
Ok, so I don’t want to be a complete bitch but I don’t like my home. I don’t have a room, my mom and sister don’t get along and my mom doesn’t trust me at ALL. She thinks I’m boinking every single girl in Singapore. Yeah so being home is not all that great after all. I mean, I’m truly glad to see the whole gang again and I AM quite excited to meet my old school friends but for THREE months? Sucks!! God, look at my previous post and you will see how fucking idealistic and optimistic I can get!! But work sounds like a good way to occupy my time in Colombo until August. But knowing my past record that too is also some idealistic notion that is not going to last and work will be quite crap when it starts. Fingers crossed that it’s not.
In the meantime, however, I am quite comfortable. I’m just a person who likes to bitch.
Song of the moment: 911- Wyclef Jean & Mary J. Blige
Background Song of the moment- Kahin To Ho Ga on Star Plus (Mom certainly likes her TV on full volume)
Eating: Small Apple (Better and juicier than any of the bigger and better looking apples in Singapore)
Location: Colombo, Sri Lanka
Here I am, sitting in Mom’s room, punching away my latest blog update on MS Word as the Sri Lankan Internet connection sucks. The A/C is working marvellously and I am quite comfortable. My body is very sore as I was moving out yesterday. Carrying boxes and pieces of luggage down the stairs not only makes you look like a sweaty imbecile but also makes you work muscles that have never been worked before, which, in my case, is every single muscle in my body. Therefore sitting on my mom’s bed, what with its special ergonomic mattress and the coolness wafting over me, is purely pleasurable.
So let me tell you about my trip and the events that led up to it. My cousin came around 7.15pm to help me shift out my stuff. I was a bit apprehensive that he might meet K, who had kindly offered to bring me dinner to my room. But thankfully, my cousin just helped me with my stuff, packed up into his expensive convertible and drove away. So K came over and we ate our dinner in peace. After dinner, just getting down to a bit of last minute lovin’ when there’s a knock on the door. A bit of panic but anyway, kept a poker face and opened the door. The said interruption was heavily suspicious but hopefully, with our superbly executed lies, the suspicion was replaced with wide eyed wonderment and normal talk. It felt superbly executed but come now, how dense can people be?
Well anyway, after interruption’s exit, we just fooled around a bit and nothing more. It did feel good but unfortunately, however much I just wanted (needed) to lie there I couldn’t because you know, in these situations, common sense has a way of making its presence felt. After the horniness had faded away, we said our goodbyes and I just had no choice but to get about packing up my stuff. My friend came over and we headed to the airport.
Check-in was not a problem and browsing the duty free at Changi Airport was, as always, quite enjoyable. It really does feel like we’re grabbing onto the final strands of first-worldliness before going back to our underdeveloped nations. Thank God for being Upper Middle Class! I’m sorry, I can’t say I would actually like being poor. Hate me, I don’t care.
The flight itself was not bad. The food was altogether underwhelming. It was curried fish (the other option was beef, which is really strange because I thought that most international flights don’t serve beef or pork in their main courses. I find it severely restricting and very unprofessional. I mean the whole point in offering us a choice is to actually give us two options for the sake of providing an excellent service not for the purpose of covering their bases in case they are not religiously sensitive. Offering fish and chicken both, therefore, is religiously tactful AND is excellent service) with rice. The dessert was some sticky rice like thing in date sauce. Not bad except for the fact that the plane, at the moment I was eating my dessert, ran into a bout of severe turbulence. The plate of dessert jumped out of my hands and thankfully landed safely into the tray but my heart (and recently-filled stomach) did a different kind of jumping about. Seriously it was scary because I have never experienced this kind of turbulence before. It started with the usual mild bumps here and there and then suddenly the plane buckled downwards for as much as 5-7 seconds which, my dear friends, is quite a long period of time. The pilot called for all his crew to settle down to the nearest empty seats but after like two minutes of relative calm, business went about as usual.
Coming back home was quite fun. My friend dropped me and we just laughed the entire trip home. It takes around 50 minutes to drive from the airport to the main city and during that time, we just cracked each other up. My friend’s brother, who came to pick us up, was not too pleased considering he had been forced to accompany the specially hired driver, a complete stranger, to the airport in the middle of night on order of the father!! Hee Hee. Tsk Tsk.
Ok, so I don’t want to be a complete bitch but I don’t like my home. I don’t have a room, my mom and sister don’t get along and my mom doesn’t trust me at ALL. She thinks I’m boinking every single girl in Singapore. Yeah so being home is not all that great after all. I mean, I’m truly glad to see the whole gang again and I AM quite excited to meet my old school friends but for THREE months? Sucks!! God, look at my previous post and you will see how fucking idealistic and optimistic I can get!! But work sounds like a good way to occupy my time in Colombo until August. But knowing my past record that too is also some idealistic notion that is not going to last and work will be quite crap when it starts. Fingers crossed that it’s not.
In the meantime, however, I am quite comfortable. I’m just a person who likes to bitch.
Song of the moment: 911- Wyclef Jean & Mary J. Blige
Background Song of the moment- Kahin To Ho Ga on Star Plus (Mom certainly likes her TV on full volume)
Eating: Small Apple (Better and juicier than any of the bigger and better looking apples in Singapore)
Sunday, May 08, 2005
last day
ah the day has finally come... in a few hours time i shall be on the flight back to Colombo... i shall have (hopefully) a blissful flight back.. i love flights.. eat some nice food.. doze for awhile.. watch bits and pieces of a movie.. and also talk to neighbours... i like to talk to whoever is seated next to me.. but sometimes i don't... coz u know.. they might be black.. or smelly.. or.. hahaha.. well i'm kidding.. how offensive... well.. yeah sometimes i don't talk for obvious reasons such as that person might be asleep..or might not really be forthcoming to actually converse with me.. but this time i am sure of conversing.. coz.. Malinda and Buhary... both Sri Lankan peers of mine.. juniors.. are travelling with me and are seated next to me.. yay!
phew.. enormously unbelievably long sentence for a simple point..
yep.. so.. last days are always kinda supposed to be sad.. but usually don't turn out that way.. coz in NUS.... u have to shift out your stuff.. and check out.. and go through a long list of bureaucratic procedures to actually leave the fricking uni... so the last day turns out to be quite hectic.. and tiring.. and its only when u get into the airport and check in ur baggage that u feel some kind of respite.. but this last day.. i don't know..im kinda all packed up and geared to fly off.. i feel.. that because i knew i had to prepare for this day emotionally.. so i ended up preparing myself with regard to shifting out too.. bah.. what rubbish am i talking..? haha.. right.. but yeah.. i'm gonna miss hanging out.. and funning with a certain someone.. it certainly was fun for me.. and yeah.. its a good end to the semester.. i'm leaving with no regrets.. no disappointments.. no sadness (ok a bit of sadness) and i'm actually looking forward to home.. and mum.. and sis.. and family..and friends.. and posh lunches.. and clandestine cigarette redezvous.. and this time.. work!!!! yay.. i've got a friend working there.. Vindy!!!.. and its gonna be fun. i think.. the bitch is gonna take advantage of my status as an intern there fore sure!!! ha ha.. i can see her jaw drop to the ground as she is reading this.. haha..
ok.. so.. today.. what did i do? hmmmm.. i woke up... around 2.30pm.. all prepared to go for a haircut and then go get sister and mum's cosmetics.. so got my haircut.. then randomly hung with sujan.. for a bit.... and then went on to get the wishlists (rather the demand lists)..that took around 2-3 hours.. so exhausted as i was.. i headed home.. had a short nap for around 45 minutes.. then.. had a shower.. to get rid off the tiny hairs.. and then in a bout of unusual luxury.. dressed into clubbing clothes.. with no rush, no tension.. and with cool smoking breaks in between.. i know i know.. this smoking is a problem.. so clubbed.. made out.. asexually.. as was tired.. danced like a fricking madman.. did the kinky danceTM- Pavitra Mohan.. then had supper and came home.. all in all.. kind of a satisfying experience.. but definitely could have been much much much much better.. atleast didn't have a terrible time.. see, this is what the last day does to you.. it makes you grateful for any bit of fun squeezed out of the biggest social disasters.. haha. wait... now i'm exaggerating.. but yeah.. the night was just a B in my opinion.. it could have been much worse.. and then it was definitely not anywhere close to any of my best nights out... you get the point now i guess..
ok cool.. im headed off to bed now.. and i suppose that my next update will be when i am back in colombo.. i expect nothing from the dial-up connection installed in my home.. so obviously.. next update will take some time.. hee hee..
byeeee... i'm gonna miss u Singapore.. good luck everyonee.. happy holz! i sound... so.. mutant teenage wannabe groupie.. sigh.
later
song at moment: Uninvited- Alanis Morrisette
reading: The Spell- Alan Hollinghurst
flying about room: random moths.. the fuckers.. i'm gonna miss them too
song at moment: miss independent- kelly clarkson
a toast to everyone who's brightened up my past few months.. both financially, sexually, asexually, alcoholicly, hungoverly and academically and movieickly...
cheers!
Thursday, May 05, 2005
vibrant campus life?
As mentioned before, I finished my exams on the 30th. This was a very good thing as the torture was kept mercifully short. I was very very very happy when the exams ended. Now this might seem too-obvious-a-feeling-that-it-does-not-even-warranty-a-mention-because-it-is-implied but usually this does not happen to me. I just realized that the above sentence can be typed without hyphens and still it would make sense, but hey, I'm trying to be literary and cool.
Usually, immediately after exams, I feel an extreme low because I don't know what to do since for the past month my life has been revolving around studies, coffee and quick masturbatory breaks. However this time, I just felt absolute joy! This joy was welcomed by my friends with sighs of relief and lots of ''finally!!'' and "oh your normal, great!!''. But to me, I felt (in addition to the joy) that I've just become a different person. This does not necessarily have to be a bad thing but think about it. I'm in university because I'm a good worker. Distracted yes, but nevertheless, a conscientious one. And this comes along-by this I don't really know what it is- and I'm all over the place and I don't really care.
I suppose the fact that I'm caring now is still indication that I'm still the same person but how about then? How about the numerous times during the semester in which I just gave up on research even before the system logged me on to the pathetically slow NUS Libraries? How about when I decided that providing a ''sick'' excuse to skip meeting was a wonderful idea? How about the slow deterioration of concentration on one single topic? How about the humongous reduction of efficiency when doing a particularly long reading for South Asian studies? (2004= 50-75 pages a day. 2005= N.A (no i'm kidding) 10-15 pages a day?) And the kicker, and yet strangely most justified, having a lustful night (and morning) and going for the test AND presentation grossly unprepared only after 1 hour after doing our business?????? Woo hoo!?
There is always next semester!!! I am looking forward to my last semester at NUS. I feel sad too, but soon we shall be finding jobs and earning our OWN living. The thought exhilarates! Previously, I always thought that hooking up with someone rich or being dependent on someone wouldn't be much of a problem but these past few months have taught me just how the world works. Call me naïve, but I say that realization is better late than never. These past few months has seen me spending money left, right and centre. Contrary to popular belief, most of this money has not been spent on alcohol and clubbing. In fact, they have been spent on, numerous dinners, numerous cab rides, stratospheric phone bills and not keeping track of what people owe me.
This has led me to borrow money. I hate borrowing money. It is sometimes necessary but all it does to me is provide me uneasy short term relief after which, it is replaced by the dead weight of debt. All this has taught me a few things. Money is an issue that you take for granted. People come to you in times of help but when it comes to the situation where you can't help but ask for a reciprocation, it suddenly gets stuck in a gump full of excuses. There are some people who have come through and genuinely helped me and I am very thankful and I WILL pay back my debts when I come back. But from now on, and of course until i pay back my debts, I shall ECONOMIZE and splurge on really special things such as the occasional romantic date, a new mobile phone and maybe, just maybe, an iPod? And of course some nice gifts to mom, sister and a few select friends (and lovers).
Anyway, like I was saying, before this gross, yet appropriate, diversion. I felt extremely low after exams. After getting over a fricking hangover on Sunday, Monday was fucking boring. Did not do anything!!!!!!! L.O.S.E.R ( u know who u are who said that). Loserville, population M.E.. sigh.. Well it just got me thinking, as I was walking around my hall and contemplating the vagaries of NUS campus-life... Where the fuck is the ''vibrant campus life'' they talk about in their prospectus????? IT IS NOWHERE TO BE SEEN. There are the occasional exciting moments when you see drunk people running (and sleeping) about on the pavements, the occasional cultural night which is oh-so-moderately-enjoyable and there are those memorable moments of fun bonding you have with your friends... Apart from those ''memorable moments'' everything else is so structured and so planned that when it comes to the day of the actual event, i.e. cultural night/movie screening/dance ensemble etc, the fact that we SHOULD attend because if we don't we will miss out on SOOO much fun, just negates all the fun in going and planning etc etc etc blah. So the bottomline at NUS is that if we want to have fun we should plan for it, fit it into our schedules weeks in advance so as to prepare oneself for a brilliant slice of collective campus life. There is absolutely NO FUN in having something fun to do at our disposal, like maybe a bar or a club or even a 24 hour hip eatery on campus. I mean God forbid provide students with something fun to do ON campus...!
Usually, immediately after exams, I feel an extreme low because I don't know what to do since for the past month my life has been revolving around studies, coffee and quick masturbatory breaks. However this time, I just felt absolute joy! This joy was welcomed by my friends with sighs of relief and lots of ''finally!!'' and "oh your normal, great!!''. But to me, I felt (in addition to the joy) that I've just become a different person. This does not necessarily have to be a bad thing but think about it. I'm in university because I'm a good worker. Distracted yes, but nevertheless, a conscientious one. And this comes along-by this I don't really know what it is- and I'm all over the place and I don't really care.
I suppose the fact that I'm caring now is still indication that I'm still the same person but how about then? How about the numerous times during the semester in which I just gave up on research even before the system logged me on to the pathetically slow NUS Libraries? How about when I decided that providing a ''sick'' excuse to skip meeting was a wonderful idea? How about the slow deterioration of concentration on one single topic? How about the humongous reduction of efficiency when doing a particularly long reading for South Asian studies? (2004= 50-75 pages a day. 2005= N.A (no i'm kidding) 10-15 pages a day?) And the kicker, and yet strangely most justified, having a lustful night (and morning) and going for the test AND presentation grossly unprepared only after 1 hour after doing our business?????? Woo hoo!?
There is always next semester!!! I am looking forward to my last semester at NUS. I feel sad too, but soon we shall be finding jobs and earning our OWN living. The thought exhilarates! Previously, I always thought that hooking up with someone rich or being dependent on someone wouldn't be much of a problem but these past few months have taught me just how the world works. Call me naïve, but I say that realization is better late than never. These past few months has seen me spending money left, right and centre. Contrary to popular belief, most of this money has not been spent on alcohol and clubbing. In fact, they have been spent on, numerous dinners, numerous cab rides, stratospheric phone bills and not keeping track of what people owe me.
This has led me to borrow money. I hate borrowing money. It is sometimes necessary but all it does to me is provide me uneasy short term relief after which, it is replaced by the dead weight of debt. All this has taught me a few things. Money is an issue that you take for granted. People come to you in times of help but when it comes to the situation where you can't help but ask for a reciprocation, it suddenly gets stuck in a gump full of excuses. There are some people who have come through and genuinely helped me and I am very thankful and I WILL pay back my debts when I come back. But from now on, and of course until i pay back my debts, I shall ECONOMIZE and splurge on really special things such as the occasional romantic date, a new mobile phone and maybe, just maybe, an iPod? And of course some nice gifts to mom, sister and a few select friends (and lovers).
Anyway, like I was saying, before this gross, yet appropriate, diversion. I felt extremely low after exams. After getting over a fricking hangover on Sunday, Monday was fucking boring. Did not do anything!!!!!!! L.O.S.E.R ( u know who u are who said that). Loserville, population M.E.. sigh.. Well it just got me thinking, as I was walking around my hall and contemplating the vagaries of NUS campus-life... Where the fuck is the ''vibrant campus life'' they talk about in their prospectus????? IT IS NOWHERE TO BE SEEN. There are the occasional exciting moments when you see drunk people running (and sleeping) about on the pavements, the occasional cultural night which is oh-so-moderately-enjoyable and there are those memorable moments of fun bonding you have with your friends... Apart from those ''memorable moments'' everything else is so structured and so planned that when it comes to the day of the actual event, i.e. cultural night/movie screening/dance ensemble etc, the fact that we SHOULD attend because if we don't we will miss out on SOOO much fun, just negates all the fun in going and planning etc etc etc blah. So the bottomline at NUS is that if we want to have fun we should plan for it, fit it into our schedules weeks in advance so as to prepare oneself for a brilliant slice of collective campus life. There is absolutely NO FUN in having something fun to do at our disposal, like maybe a bar or a club or even a 24 hour hip eatery on campus. I mean God forbid provide students with something fun to do ON campus...!
My solutions, in broad strokes:
1. Reduce workload. Not only will this allow for a REAL learning experience but it will also allow students to get out a bit more and actually interact before they become socially inept monsters.
2. Relax Rules. So what if males and females sleep with each other? I mean, contrary to popular belief, they do actually sleep on the same bed without sexual intercourse ever happening. I mean even if it does, won't it actually open minds about S.E.X and educate a generation into believing that SEX is not a bad thing and release the repression that is slowly depopulating Singapore? Also, why not allow visitors anytime of the day? This is not boot camp! And to make matters worse, these ''rules'' are selectively enforced, so what does that say for the University's credibility?
3. Open up fun, fancy, hip places for students to hang at. Case in point, Warwick University, United Kingdom. Every day a theme party night. Lots of pubs and discos on campus. Also, they have many many, restaurants on campus. NUS is improving no doubt, but its going slow and since our stay here is of a short duration, there is no way I'm fighting for a future cause. I want to enjoy these solutions. I, I, I. Yeah, I'm a selfish biatch.
Anyhow, I'm dying to put up another blog. So this is over...
Song at the moment: Espen Lind- When Sussanah Cries
Gonna: Smoke my last cigarette now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
