So I went over to my friend’s place today, I’ve known her since ninth grade, and now she’s married and has a three month old baby.
It feels like just the other day when we used to drink Milo and play Kings (the trampling game) outside our school tuckshop, and here I was, looking at this pudgy little alien being with curious eyes who’d been living in my friend a few months ago and it was made of her genes too! Like woah.
I find babies really interesting to be around, because they’re so squishy and twitchy and have eyes that dart all over the place. And they really pay attention when you talk you know. So my friend and I were trying to watch Easy A, awesome movie by the way, Emma Stone is the best, but the baby got all fussy halfway. So my friend’s rocking the baby and it was all like,
That is not a third nostril, it’s a baby-booger.
So we take a break and I start talking to my friend about a psychology class case. “There’s this six year old with schizophrenia and a genius IQ and she thinks a cat is telling her to attack people…”
The baby was watching me and was suddenly highly amused by my riveting tale. And it was like,
And I pointed at its silly face and said ‘silly baby!’ and poked its tummy, and it was like,
Needless to say it was enraptured by my presence in general. We continued watching the rest of the movie, while the baby sat quietly in my lap, watching Easy A. I blame Emma Stone if the baby starts swearing next month.
So silly, these fellows. Stuck on their backs like a wrong-side-up turtle, wiggling around, making funny faces. Demanding attention and food and stuff like total badass mofos. Using their cuteness to turn ordinary adults into idiots who make retarded high pitched coochy coo noises. Pooping into diapers and all that. Yeah. They make cool homies. Except for the diaper bit.
So I’m kinda running this non-profit organization where me and a bunch of volunteers wanna do one-hour interactive presentations in Colombo schools about harassment against women in public transport and places. You know, get kids involved in intervening if they see it happening, fighting negative social norms and all that jazz.
So me and two awesome other volunteers (one of them being a talented blogger living near you) were going around in the scorching sun (who else knelt down and gave the heavens a thumbs-up sign in gratitude when it finally rained last night?!) getting permission from schools to do these presentations.
Lo and behold, after bagging permission at five schools, we found ourselves at the entrance of the esteemed Royal College, often declared the best school on the island or something like that.
We’d dropped by once before and given the project’s proposal to the principal’s secretary, so he knew what the project was about when we walked into his office before being made to wait for 25 minutes.
He flipped through the proposal and said, You need to ask permission from the Ministry of Education to do this in our school… Oh, okay, I said, dejected but thinking of our next alternative step already. I was going to thank him and leave with my colleagues… before he suddenly flipped a page and scowled and spat out-
But I mean, looking at the way y’all are dressed I don’t know if we can even let you into our school!
And he just threw the project proposal sheet across the table. Yes, threw.
I was wearing traditional islamic clothing, a shawl neatly pinned over my head. The other girl was dressed in a smart black pant suit, with her hair let loose but combed down. And the other guy was wearing a dark tshirt and jeans.
Okay, okay, before everyone who has ever had to deal with state owned schools gets on my case now – I know, we were told after by lots of people, that they expect people who walk into those schools to wear shirts and pants (not jeans and tshirts) and women to usually wear sarees. I get it, we were ignorant in that aspect and hadn’t done our homework.
But man, you should have seen the way he said it, and sat back with a smug look on his face. He might as well have said, GTFO, ya big sluts. My female colleague, a sensitive one, looked like she was going to cry. The sensitive little girl in me whose existence I constantly deny and suppress wanted to cry too. I mean, it’s not like we came in with beach shorts and spaghetti straps? And we were members of an organization and we spoke in english and really politely too. Overreaction much?
I was kind of stunned, getting that from a principal, didn’t see that coming. I said in surprise, That was rude. He shrugged. That was all he had to say apparently and he clearly wanted us to get the hell out. I said a quick insincere, Thank you, and we got up to leave. Before I left, I just turned around and very curtly told him, That was very unprofessional.
His comeback: Maybe.
I think he wanted to get the last word in but the comeback kind of failed.
Anyway, overall, that was highly entertaining. I was pissed off as hell at the time and was already thinking of who I could hire to take a shit outside his office. Chavie, a Thomian, was secretly overjoyed that his rival school now looked like a dick after its principal’s totally uncalled-for behaviour. The other friend, well she had been treated to a dose of bonafide douchebaggery and she was glad that at least now, any form of rejection she gets in future volunteer projects will pale in comparison to this one.
Remember Caesar? The cat who looks like Garfield that I used to constantly blog about, about how furry and adorable he is and how he had an accident and I almost died of panic and sat up all night nursing him back to health? Yeah, I hate that little bitch now.
At first I was in denial. When I first got him, he was this beautiful friendly little furball, who just spent all day playing with ribbon and sitting next to me and being awesome in general. Then almost a year went by I think and he got way bigger and the gradual estrangement began.
He’d hide in the bushes like an emo and when I called his name, he wouldn’t respond as usual. He’d let me carry him for a minute tops before he’d struggle out of my hold. He wouldn’t play with strings and shit anymore. I know they tell you only kittens play with string but awesome cats do too. But it was happening, Caesar was losing his awesomeness.
I don’t know whether it was evil eye (EVERYBODY who saw him went into excited convulsions of admiration and squealing and such, because of his orange fluffiness) or whether it was because I didn’t spend enough time with him at home, what with college and later work and all, but he just started pulling away and getting attached to the maid instead. I’d watch him jump around and be silly around her and respond readily to everything she said and I was like, F U CAESAR. F. U. But then it made sense since those two kept each other company while everyone else left home.
But still. I carried him to my room today and he just promptly made a noise and walked off and just jumped out the window when I followed him. Now that’s just plain rude. I thought it was just me but my brother whines about the same thing. Just not feeling the love from that cat anymore. He’s so cold. Cold and hurtful. I was trying to avoid the fact all this time because I mean, look at him, he’s so fluffy, and even when he’s being an ass I still love picking him up and cuddling the fattie against his will.
At one point though, the sibling and I told the parents, man we want a real pet. Not this snooty mofo. But dad has this undying love towards Caesar. Noo! he whined. No take Caesar. I lau Caesar. Dad actually talks to the cat, has real conversations and all. But I know Caesar only hangs out with him cuz he’s the one who puts catfood in his bowl. When he’s not hungry he’s somewhere in the kitchen with the maid or running around outside.
Like I mentioned in a previous post, different cats have different personalities, and maybe Caesar is just the type to latch onto people who are always around and distance himself from people who aren’t around as much. But still, how can you be so cold? 😦
Woah I haven’t posted anything in more than 20 days. No, my blog shall not turn into another one of the dying kind! I apologize to the readership who seems to be visiting despite my insolent negligence of the blog. Samaavenna.
I guess I’m just experiencing some writer’s block, just been too busy doing boring things (i.e. anything related to work).
So what do I blog about? I feel like such a noob at this after being out of it for twenty days. Let’s see… I’m doing a short weekend diploma course in ‘abnormal and clinical psychology’ now while waiting for Delhi University to get back to me about me joining them for studies. And dude. Psychology is awesome fun. They need to make this subject compulsory in schools or something.
Because now, I read everyone. I know what they’re thinking because all humans by default (unless they went under intensive training to maintain a poker face like a tough mofo or something) show totally identical characteristic signals when they’re angry, sad, annoyed, in love etc. I know when you’re nervous or lying or you like me or hate me. I’m a super sleuth in other words.
Okay it’s not always that accurate I admit, but still. I’m like, dude do you like this girl? And dude is like, no. But I can see from his facial twitches that he is attempting to deceive me, and failing. *evil cackle*
Do you guys like the sandwiches I made? I ask for example. And everyone’s all politely like, yeah totally, shrugshrug. But their heads shake no despite their mouths saying yes and their body posture turns negative as they cross their legs and arms and lean back. HA! Liars you totally hate the sandwich. FU.
The guy next to this friend of mine spreads out his arms, runs his hands through his hair and laughs out loud at something that wasn’t that funny, totally unnecessary but just looks like he’s stretching and has an awkward sense of humour. And my friend’s voice tips a few notches higher as she asks him to pass the sauce bottle and she starts babbling in a sing-song-ey voice while absent mindedly toying with her hair, which just makes her seem like an average hyperactive teenage girl. But my super sleuthey senses are all like, omgz these two are totally unconsciously checking each other out as prospective partners.
And then I giggle to myself evilly in the corner. And they’re like, wtf makuluwo you crazy poo. Little do they know of my secret observayshuns.
So it’s no secret that people who study psychology in depth run the risk of going nuts, because they might just imagine things that aren’t there. But I’ve always been able to tell when people are going to ask each other out or going to break up or going to disapprove or going to strangle me, like an hour before it happens, because we give away so much from the way we talk, the way our eyes move, the way we place our arms and legs. And it’s as plain as seeing a dog wag its tail when it’s happy.
Human psychology is cool like that. And you’d be surprised, science and biology actually confirms things we thought we made up like ‘too much happiness can drive you insane’ (abnormal increase in dopamine [one of the things that cause euphoria] in the brain can cause an imbalance and is one of the suspected triggers of schizophrenia [when you see hallucinations and delusions]) and ‘men like hour glass figures and women like rich guys’ (in general men are biologically more prone to go for women with heavy figures and women biologically look for long term commitments with men that have a secure hold of money and name). I recommend anyone who’s interested in actually understanding the human mind better and then dealing with people around you better (instead of being all ‘wtf why you so shouty? i kill u’ at angryman you’ll be like ‘oh it’s cuz you were starved of attention as a child and you make noise now cuz you feel unattended to, come sit here and tell me of your problem, angryman, I listen to you nao, there there.’) — to subscribe to Psychology Today. Apparently it’s available at Vijitha Yapa, I stole some from the college I’m doing this course at, and it’s the shizz.
And all jokes aside, it actually does explain things like, why you didn’t get that job, how to bowl over your job interviewer, obvious signals that show somebody secretly hates your guts or is secretly in love with you, why do cupcakes make you turn into a scary chirpy fool, how to handle break ups, how to handle assholes etc. And it’s got all this psychological shit to back it up. Srsly why do people buy advice from Cosmo?