Archive for September, 2010

The Spider Has Been Silenced

Posted: September 27, 2010 in Uncategorized

pic by royalheartinhands

As Fate’s and God’s and all that jazz’s wicked sense of humour would have it, I have been made mute.

It started out as a walk in the rain. I had an umbrella open this time! Which is such a rarity, you see. So I was thinking, look at me, using the umbrella like a good girl.

I get home and I get the flu, which I don’t usually get. Ironic! Har har.

It’s a little cold, which tumbles into a cough, a mild sore throat.
And I start sounding like, you know, one of those husky voiced women who smoke too many ciggies. People liked it and all.

Then BAM, it went from nicotine addict lounge singer to the Cookie  Monster.
You laugh now, but if you could have only heard. I swear, when I said OM NOM NOM, the resemblance was uncanny.

Gradually, my voice started drowning in what was probably phlegm settling down in my throat or something. I’m not really sure what it is, because I don’t feel very phlegm-ey.

At its final stage, I lost my voice completely, and could whisper stuff. Which made me always seem like I was telling a secret.

Me: Psssttt.. PSSTT.. I’m hungry..

Person: Uhh.. ookaay..*feels awkward and gets shifty eyed*

When I tried to say something with more emphasis than whispering expresses, I sounded like that guy from the Mafia with the really soft barely heard husky voice, he’s like, Why you do this to me salviano? Why? I am like a father to you! *puts hand on salviano’s cheek*

Yeah I said that a few times to random people. It was fun.

The rest of the time I had cue cards. I kid you not. I had one that said ‘hi. I lost my voice. ):’ and one that said ‘BASTARDS.’ and one that said ‘LOL.’ and one that said ‘make me a sandwich’ and one that said ‘i ❤ u’ with a smiley face inside the heart and stuff reserved for yo mama.

I am not making this shizz up, ask one of my homies. I mean, what are you gonna do if you have to go out without a voice? Cue cards are awesome fun, man. I don’t know if I’m going to stop using them after I get my voice back.

This morning I gargled salt water a lot though, because I can’t answer my phone and that’s a drag. I think I’ve got a tenth of my voice back.

But I have to say, being silent has been rather awesome. My mum hates me sneaking up quietly behind her and then whispering creepily, dad loves my little cue cards and makes me hotdogs because he feels like I’m invalid, my friends lol more with my cue cards and mime facial expressions, and for some reason, I’ve been feeling a surge of creative energy and energy in general. O_O Perhaps the body wastes a lot of energy on talking alone.

Whatever it is, I’ll miss not having a voice when it comes back. Think I might pretend it’s gone every now just to have an excuse to pull out a cue card that says ‘LOL.’

Advertisements

Prayer

Posted: September 24, 2010 in Uncategorized

I bowed my head to the ground and my forehead touched cool blades of grass. I was seated cross legged in the garden, the slight drizzle and generous breeze rushing over the back of my neck and breathing life into the trees.

It had been a while.

God is in the earth, I think. He is not a man or woman seated in a palace in the sky but the light flooding the clouds, the soil tasting the rain, the leaves stretching outwards from towering trees that look like they have it all figured out. You might call it god or mother nature or the system of the universe, whatever its name, there is a flawlessness in everything within it that can only be attributed to some profound divinity beyond our mere realm.

A bee sits awhile on a white petal before travelling heavenwards to its hive in some oak, to make combs of honey perfect in size, shape and texture, every day, for the rest of its life. I put my ear to the ground and listened to the rumble of cars outside. They were always moving, but where to?
There is something awe inspiring about the fact that the bee is so sure of the purpose of its existence.

Why am I here?
The wind picked up speed and grabbed a brown leaf off the floor and threw it into the sky.
Maybe if we watched close and long enough the rain’s run through fingers of vines, the ground breathing in dots of rain, the dance of the branches to their own rhythmic mantra, maybe they’d leave some hint.

Rational thought, they say, is what separates us from other inhabitants of nature. The bee does not have to make a conscious decision to go to the flower and back each day, it just does. From instinct? I wonder where did we put ours.

Heavy drops like drums, ba da ba da ba da, beautiful if you close your eyes and listen. Like the beat to a moving piece of bharathanatyam. They fell, the drops, expressively, purposefully, on the grass.
Sometimes, things that usually appear dead to you, secretly come alive when you’re very, very silent. Ba da ba da ba da. Palm leaves swayed, wild. Ground exploded with luscious fragrance of water-meets-soil. The sky was a ceiling of pale shades constantly switching back and forth like in morse code.

It was speaking. He was speaking. She was speaking. Or singing maybe. Some foreign melody so pristine.
I listened, intently, not wanting to miss a single note. Not because it was beautiful, though what I saw and felt indeed was, but I wondered what it was saying. Something I could save in my mind perhaps, for when I leave its presence, back to my people’s system?
A piece of advice, a hint. A comforting ballad to carry back, when I find myself noisy and searching, like the cars outside.

Can’t I sit here forever? I wondered in my head, palms outstretched over the garden floor that was feeding off the sky’s water. My ear was to the ground again and all I heard was the hush of a distant beat, soothing, like a mother’s kiss on a skinned knee. Don’t cry, she would say.

pic by curlytops

I’ve had lucid dreams ever since I was a kid and didn’t know they were weird till I started talking about them and people lol’d at my fantastical tales. I googled it and found I wasn’t alone though.  

Lucid dreaming is when you realize, within a dream, that you are dreaming – and you can control events and create matter within the dream.

Did you watch Inception? It gives you a visual of what a Lucid Dream is like.. except for the Leo Di Caprio stealing your thoughts part.

Oh yeah, that was a spoiler. But serves you right for not having downloaded the damn thing already.

Anyway. In a normal dream, you watch yourself in a movie or you experience things as if they were real. In a LD, everything still feels real, but there’s a realization that, omg this isn’t real.

At this realization, most people snap awake, or experience fuzziness of vision in the dream. This is because your mind is prone to reality, and when it realizes something isn’t real, it tends to destroy the illusion. But with practise, you can maintain calmness when the realization hits and control your mind into taking advantage of the illusions.

Meaning, in my lucid dream, I’ll conjure up a piece of cake. It’s an illusion. But my mind takes experiencial memories of what a cake feels like, smells like, and tastes like – and feeds it into the dream, making the cake in the dream, in a sense, real.   

If you’re not familiar with the idea, you’re probably wondering what the hell I’ve been smoking. But believe me, it is epic. Let me just take you through a lucid dream I had this week to introduce you to the awesomeness.

I wake up in my house as usual. And I become lucid – I know I’m dreaming. But everything still feels real, the wall on my fingers, grass on my feet, water on my skin, the smell of the beach, everything that is to come. 

So I open the door and step outside. I push the garden wall expecting a secret door to open into a place with a pool, so it does. The floor is half marbelled and half sandy, with a giant pool in the center. I dive in telling myself that I can breathe underwater and that the pool opens into a mysterious deep ocean world (O_o) so I see these totally epic plants and creatures and I hear psychedelic music and it is trippay. I swim out through another opening and climb into another landscape. Then I flap my arms and I fly, and I swim up through the sky. The sky is that rainyday-white and I reach its ‘surface’ in a few laps, and stick my fingers through it and rip it open, and climb in. And on the other side is this luscious grassy green field with sun and wind. And I frolic around going lalala!

The end.

Oh yeah. The whole thing feels like two hours though I’ve been asleep for half. Now it’s so hard to explain this to someone who’s never heard of the likes of lucid dreaming, because they think I’m a big loon who takes the lets-play-pretend game too far. For such noobs, I recommend you check out Wiki and visit the lucid dreaming FAQ page.

Why lucid dream? 1. Because it’s friggin AWESOME! Imagine a world completely under your control, where you can turn stuff into cake and walk on water and fly with the Superman music in the background! 2. It’s therapeutic. After that dream I just described to you, completely orchestrated by the whims and fancies of my mind, I woke up feeling like a million bucks, like I’d actually been prancing in a meadow with the wind on my face.

Tips for LDing:

1. Reality checks – Look at your hands, look around and check out your surroundings. Chances are, in a dream, something will be off and you’ll instantly realize you’re dreaming.

2. Practise – The more you practise recognizing if you’re in dream state or not, the clearer your lucid dreams will be and the more control you’ll be able to exert on the dream.

3. Start small and start it out of something. Start with a small object, appearing behind a cupboard. Conjuring things out of nothing is difficult – your mind is all, this is ridiculously unreal! and it’ll snap you awake. But opening a cupboard, and finding a jar of nutella in it, isn’t so unreal. Move up to conjuring up people – you open a door, and omg, it’s Al Pacino. Whadup, bro.

4. Watch cartoons and movies and get creative. I watched Street Fighters and Avatar The Last Airbender and taught myself in lucid dreams to create energyballs between my palms. And then like, throw the energyball at something and set it on fire. MWUHAHAHA.

I find it fascinating how the mind is constantly working, and on its own accord, even in your sleep. Even lucid dreams are never completely predictable though within your control – I saw a horse with a cat’s head and unicorn-esque horns, in one LD, and I’m sure I didn’t consciously conjure that crazyass mofo up. What really happens when you close your eyes?

Do you delve into your own self? My bro, who can also lucid dream, said, in an LD just open the door and start walking, or flying around: you’ll see things that will show you what’s going on in your mind, things you aren’t aware of, it’s self discovery. Does the soul go somewhere when you dream? Or is it all just happening inside your brain? What if the dream is real and reality is the dream? O_O  

I like how there’s no way to say for sure.

Dwindle

Posted: September 14, 2010 in Uncategorized

I hate the dwindle

Post Holiday

Post Getaway

The post awesome weekend Day

I wake up inside a room

That’s suddenly unappealing

The red walls look maroon

The cat looks fat and mean

Sun that lit up white curtains

Now taints them yellow

Birds whose tunes I loved

Now need to shut the fuck up

I don’t want it to start

But a tuk tuk’s engine whirrs outside

Obnoxious like a loud aunty at a wedding

A rude awakening

The bedsheets fold over messy

And wind around me

Tucking me safe away 

From the awfully ordinary day

Like a hangover on the inside

Unpleasant

The maid says the phone’s ringing

So shut the door so I won’t hear, woman

And I crawl back into the covers

Climb into the far kinder arms

Of a dream.

 

pic by sugarock99

Eid

Posted: September 10, 2010 in Uncategorized

Festivals are awesome.

pic by 80-clock

I remember when I was younger and cousins and me would meet up after the festival at the end of Ramadan, and we’d share what we got this time.

New clothes and an insane amount of delicious food was the usual toast. But the moneh! Aunties and uncles give kids money on Eid. But in my family, there was always a conspiracy.

When I was 10 and my bro was 14, he’d get 100 bucks and I’d get 50. WHAY? Because older kids can use the money better, itseems. And I’d smile and get in the car, and call them hurtful donkeys as I waved at them from behind the glass.

Then as I got older, I thought, hey, bro gets more money as he got older, so woot. But I was wrong. As I got older, people were like, what do you need festival money for no? That’s just a baba ritual no?

%$#&*#!

Anyway, blatant anti-me agendas aside, I thought I’d educate the noobs on what we do on festival day. I wake up at 6am and take a shower whilst improvising with the shampoo bottle as my fake microphone and singing something along the lines of ‘Wake me up before you go-go’ or ‘Hit me babeh one more time.’

Then usually people go to the mosque or a huge sports ground for prayers. I go to the huge ground. And frolic away.

LOLJK.

But we go to the ground and we chill a bit. The sky and the air is awesome  at 7. It’s all very fresh and nize, I get all one with nature and all that jazz. Then we pray and the guy who led the prayers usually has a little 10 minute talk on some sorta relevant thing. The bitter ones talk about stupid stuff like ‘omg they’re burnin qurans in america, wut outrage!111′ I mean, dude, today’s a festival, who cares about a bunch of crazyass zealots in another continent. But the cool ones usually talk about, ya know, togetherness and shizzle that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I have to admit that I am just assuming this from second hand narration though, since by the time the prayers are over I am totally distracted by the lone cow in the distance or the birdies or someone’s pudgy baby crawling across the prayer mat.

Pudgy babies ftw.

Then we’re all like, dude, eid mubarak. And hugging and high fiving and stuff. The process of getting up to walking out of that ground is about half hour, and with my mother, it’s double that, cuz she’s a social butterfly.
It’s cool though. I meet almost all the Muslims I’ve known in Colombo, from random girl in seventh grade to childhood friend all grown up and out of his diapers to my fistbumpin’ homies.  

Then we visit a coupla friends and families, and come home to have some visit us. And all along, there is FOOD. Gulab jam, jilaybee, cake, chocolates, toffees, pastries, cake, truffles, brownies.. did I mention CAKE? And man, can these women cook, friggin epic chefs I tell you. And they’re like, take take, take some more, you scrawny gurl. And I’m all, OKAY. :’)

Yesterday was gay, but somehow everything gets ungayified when you wake up on a day just meant for celebration. Mind over matter I guess. Eid mubarak, everybody! Await post festival treat!
Any excuse for a cupcake party rly.

Perverts: whaddaya gonna do?

Posted: September 6, 2010 in Uncategorized

I don’t believe ‘men are perverts.’
But I have to say, from general observation in SL, perverts have been men.

Why is this? Biologically, hormonally, on average, it has been found that men think about doing it a lot. They don’t think about it ‘every seven seconds,’ a myth spread by a glossy magazine, but the average man thinks of it once a day and some more than once.

The Kinsey Report found that 54 per cent of men think about sex at least every day, 43 per cent think about it a few times a week or month, and 4 per cent once a month or less. The studies on women showed percentages a wee bit more than half the percentages on men.

Is this an excuse for pervy behaviour though? It’s an explanation maybe. Women walking on the street, swimming through a bus crowd, or just anywhere in public really – and it doesn’t matter what they’re wearing, whether skimpy outfit or loose gown – there’s at least one wolf whistle or an inappropriate rub-against or just a long skincrawl-inducing look, that’s bound to happen at some point in the week.

Men aren’t perverts though, they’re not all one track minded objectifying pigs, there’s a jillion men out there who despite naturally finding someone attractive won’t translate it into some perverse act. But what can be done about the men who do? A few days ago, a friend of mine choked on the memory of some guy on the street actually driving into an alley on his bike, calling her, and then flashing her.

Urgh.

First of all, wtf?

Second of all, I tried not to laugh when she told me her story. I mean, here was a grown man, who found amusement in showing random strangers this thing that all men possess. It was absolutely and ridiculously stupid. The primitive mindset he had to have had to just go around showing off his weenie to random passers-by like an attention whoring child, just made me pity him.

If I was her, I told my friend, I would have hit that bitch in the face just laughed and said ‘oh look, it appears to be a penis, only smaller!’ and walked away. But after screaming ‘HELP, THIS MAN THREW MY BABY IN THE DRAIN’ and starting a frenzy of angry pedestrians who will proceed to beat him to pulp first though. And after all, it’s just an organ, I said. All of em have it. His is no different, though you’re probably giving him the satisfaction of thinking it is when he gets that look of horror and shock on your face. Sexual predators are often found to be powerless in other aspects of their lives – so their acts of perversion are actually a pathetic exercise of power – if their victim reacts, they feel the reaction has been controlled by them and their act, hence the delusion of power.    

But what is to be done? And what about men in crowded buses? Lots of grabbing and pushing against anything female (or in some cases, male), and getting away with it at the next halt. Maybe the woman will protest, maybe he’ll get a bit roughed up by a few defensive bus folks, maybe he’ll get thrown out of that bus. He’ll get into another one and then, that’s how it goes. Same goes for other kinds of pervs.

They’re tolerated, is what I’m saying. There is a silent acceptance that you don’t go out at night or you don’t go through that gang of scruffy looking men over there because it is expected that boys will be boys, so you’ll prolly get raped in an alley, owell. Is there nothing that can actually be done to actively fight perverts? There are no serious consequences to their actions, although they have violated people, though not on as intimate a level as rape. 

When tolerated, a habit can only grow worse. But till actual rape is reported, anything less is considered virtually harmless by the law and by people in general. Will there be a time when you can get into a crowded bus and have no doubt that you won’t be touched by some stranger, or when you walk down the street one evening and you won’t cringe on the inside at seeing a group of rowdy men walking towards you?
Or am I just asking to turn water into wine here?

Mum, I’m moving out!

Posted: September 3, 2010 in Uncategorized

pic by neslihans

Most Sri Lankans, and I think all the ones I know so far, live with their parents till they get married or something. If you’re not asian, you’re prolly lol’ing right now and all, wtf u fagz!111

But it’s true, in asian culture (mostly south asian and south east asian), as a rule of family-is-everything, people usually live with the families they’re born into until they move on to having their own families (aka marriage).

Good or bad?

Bad because, urgh, parents are annoying after a certain age. I can’t imagine how 25 year old men still live under their parents’ roofs, with mummy going ‘because I say so!’ Once you’re in your 20s, you hit adulthood at some point, and if you feel independent and if you’re without that conservative uber-respecteful mindset towards parents (you know, bring them tea in the morning, massage their feet, never disobey, be a girlscout etc.) then this cultural norm becomes a pain in the ass.

But also good, cuz I’ve seen the downfall of moving-out becoming a norm in western culture – allowing it to become a norm, leads to lots of people living all by themselves, and some consequent decadence of society’s general family unit. And I dunno bout you, but that’s scary. I have a friend in Colombo who has to live alone in this apartment because her family lives in Kandy, though her aunt is in the apartment next door… and let’s just say, there are days I walk in on her staring at the ceiling and talking to ‘the squirrels.’

Living alone can be freeing. You don’t have anybody telling you what to do, you live by your own rules, you’re the king of the castle. But in a sense living separate from family can just make you a very lonely little person. And personally I’d freak out imagining my place ever getting burgled when I’m the only one in it.   

SO. What about ROOMIES? How cool would it be to move in with a friend? And why is it so unheard of in Sri Lanka? Both would have jobs, split the cost, work out some ground rules. It’s like living with a single family member except they’re not dragging you around to boring family things or telling you to brush your teeth or making a list of orders from Hitler’s regiment.

Yet it’s ever so rare as far as I know for a young 20 something to live that way in SL, unless they’re maybe hobos or they’re growing up in a hippy cult or a seldom-found family of liberals. Why? Sure, the culture ensures that nobody dies alone and unheard of with their dozen cats, and strengthens the whole family-together-ness thingy, but really, is there any harm done with friends living together after 20? I guess it could lead to kids moving in with a messy crowd and parents can do nothing about it, but everything’s got its pros and cons.

Would normalizing the option of moving out after 20 really be a shot in the foot of family oriented Sri Lankan culture or maybe a step in social evolution we haven’t considered yet?