On Letters to Your Past Selves

Everyone’s been busy sending messages to their past selves these past few days. I myself sent a brief message. But I still don’t get why everyone tells themselves everything. Why do you do it? Most times you don’t even tell yourselves to DO something about it! What’s the point of telling your past self you’re going to wake up next to a dead hooker if you’re not going to tell yourself not to go to that party and get drunk?

I’m sure you think your teenage woes are fascinating to the general public of the blogosphere, you can’t be blamed, we look at lolcat pictures, but just think! Think of the possibilities! My brother over at lame-duck was the only one I saw giving himself investment advice. Dinidu told himself not to crash into a pig. Mos tof the others were just whining on and on about how they would meet a boy/girl, fall in love with them and how suddenly, together, they would reach the end of the rainbow and find a pot full of coal.

Useless. You’re given such opportunity and you don’t even make use of it. It’s like carving a delicious turkey using a cat. And you call yourselves an internet.

Pfft.

A Letter to My 16-Year Old Self

Hello,

Carry on. Imagine you never read this. I’m only writing this thing to complete some tag I got while blogging; On the Internet. From someone calling himself the “Whackster”. It gets less geeky by the time you start, I assure you.

I’m not going to tell you anything, nor will I tell you how anything turns out. A bunch of random people around the world might have suddenly received updates from their future and letters of advice, but you’re sure as hell not getting anything. I’m not even going to tell you what stocks to invest in (Neither did any of the others but that’s their loss).

So yeah, this letter is a disappointment. Didn’t I tell you to pretend you never saw this? Suffice to say we still exist on the 20^th of November in 2009. Now don’t go throwing yourself in front of buses or anything.

Live long and prosper!

 

 I don’t see much point in telling myself anything. That little runt can learn from his own mistakes. Telling myself to take school more seriously or that females will always be as incomprehensible as breadfruit (Seriously, bread?) would only serve to make me panic and treat women like I treat breadfruit; Keep at arm’s length and never put in a blender, which is a good thing. But besides that, I like who I am right now.

In addition to possibly saving me from a fate of becoming some violent murderer who hunts women with a blender, I don’t think I would change a single thing if given the chance.

Yes, I know I’m perfect I’m far from perfect, but I’ve grown attached to this. I’ve pissed off people, been mean, selfish, stupid and annoying plenty of times but well, I’m satisfied with what I’ve ended up with.

Not for me the character changes, personality traits, relationship advice and being less of an asshole. I laugh at your insecurities and dissatisfaction with yourselves. I ROFL at your mind’s unrest, over trivial matters in the long run. I LMAO at your young self’s need for reassurance of pimples disappearing and love being found!

I say, a teenager needs to go through all that stuff. Don’t steal the anticipation, anxiety, pain or tears, for they are what define you.

On second thought, maybe I might just tell my past self to ease up on the corniness a bit, and also remind myself never to tell internet people that my name is Gerald, due to all kinds of undesirables lurking around on the internet who can, for example, add bits to it to make it sound like a girl’s name.

You never know what kinds of degenerates you find through this ‘blogging’ thing.

I Faced Batman At My Job Interview

I’m bored these days. Sitting at home leading my tremendously eventful life is, quite unbelievably, tedious. So I thought I’d jot down the tale of how I encountered the batman at my first and last job interview to date.

—

I pay and get out of the three wheeler I use to get to the address in Kolpetty. It’s 9:55am on a sunny September day. The sun feels like a dog that has had too much chili to eat licking my face. I hurriedly scamper up the stairs to the office on the second floor and look around. Two people. They look at me. I stare back.

We stare at each other.

I squint. Two males, one in office wear, the other casual. Reception?

“sup?”

“Uh, I’m here to meet a man about a fish. Uh… a job- an interview. Designer thing….?” I eloquently orate.

“Oh. Wait a minute please”

With that the dude in office wear picks up the phone on his desk and speaks into it.

I do not hear what he says for I am now staring into a black curtain that has suddenly dropped down in front of my face.

I push it aside, to be confronted with a mess of sharp looking black metal things.

Before I can say out loud that their boiler seems to have crashed down through the ceiling, a deep, throaty voice goes “I’m here for the job. Give it to me.”

My senses tingling, I compute that I have competition. From a big black… thing. I step around the object and find myself staring upwards at a face covered by half a mask, a strange looking vest, fetish for black and a cape. I had this round clenched. All the clues led to only one conclusion.

“The opera business not paying enough for you to carry out your evil DESIGNS?”

Then I took out a pair of Ray-Bans and dramatically put them on while staring into the middle distance.

“Your picture’s been cropped, Phantom.”

And then,

“Of the Opera.”

Then I proceeded to take off the shades and remove my glasses, and then put the shades back on again. This was done discreetly, aside.

While I waited for the masked genius murderer cum composer to wallow in shame and go home a broken man, someone ushered him into a door to my left saying “Step this way please, Batman”.

He then gave me a look which said “You have made a great fox pass and now you will pay for it by living a life of shame if you ever get chosen to work here, infidel! Do you not know who Batman is? Also, would you prefer tea or coffee?”

I flexed my eyebrows, signaling tea. Then I followed them in and was greeted by smoke. Someone who looked like the boss was telling everyone to calm down. I went up to him, and noticed b-man sidling up next to me looking a little sheepish. Which is hard to do when your face is half covered in a mask. “I don’t work well in daylight, or in ‘Natural Sun’-themed office lighting fixtures”.

I looked at the boss. He seemed displeased. I was confident I had made a better first impression.

Then we sat down and it turned out we were both being interviewed at the same time.

Boss: So, I see from your resumes that neither of you has much experience in 3D modeling or graphic design professionally.

Me: Yes, It’s just a hobby of mine. But I’m quite confident of my ability to keep up with any work.

Batman: I can make your psd files fear the night. *cloak self with cloak in swift movement*

Boss: Okay then… So where do you see yourself in a yeAARRGHHH! What are you doing?!

Batman: Just cleaning my batarang…?

Boss: No, not you, HIM! *points at me*

Me: Eh? Can’t a guy pick his nose without being ostracized? It’s a free country dammit.

Boss: Employees of this organization maintain proper manners and discipline at all times.

Batman: I’m quite disciplined, if I say so myself. I can stay perfectly still in the middle of a blizzard wearing only minimal clothing and at the same time do calculus equations in my head. I can survive in an arctic wasteland populated by snow eating hippies for an indefinite period.

Me: I’m sure that’s a great skill to have for a DESIGNER.

Boss: Yeah… I’m not sure we’re ready to expand to Canada…

Batman: Don’t you have dreams? Do you not wish to eradicate all crime?

Boss: We’re…in… the services industry… But anyway. What would you say is your greatest weakness?

Me: I’m a perfectionist. I keep changing things in my designs every time I open them.

Boss: Very good answer, what about you, Mr. Man?

Batman: The name’s Batman. No last name. Remember that.

Boss: uhhhhh

Batman: I have no weakness. Weakness is for other people. It is for the people who I hunt. In the night. For I am the knight of the dark. The Dark Knight.

Boss: Okay. Right. Moving on, what can you bring to this company?

Batman: This company doesn’t deserve a designer. Where’s my dramatic music?! You deserve nothing! But I will still fight for you and give you what you deserve! Which is nothing! But I know what you deserve and will make it my mission to make sure all your text objects are turned to curves! And you will get what you deserve because you deserve more…than you get…from what you deserve me. Eh.

Me: I’ve got lots of hours under my belt working with relevant software. I’m a people person.

Boss: Are you a people person, Batman?

Batman: I have a great working relationship with most people. They’re afraid of me. I also have thirty two methods to kill you under MY belt. Hah!

***Hours pass, batarangs are thrown and more smoke is let loose***

Boss: Hello again you two. I’ve made my choice and I think I’m going to play it safe and go with Jerry here.

Me: Why thank you, I can assu-

*Enter Robin *

Robin: Yo Jerry, I’m really happy for you, I’ma let you finish, but Batman has one of the best typography skillsets of all time!

Boss: My decision is final.

*Boss shoots Robin with shotgun hidden under his desk.

*Batman rushes over to Robin

“Oh god no! What will I ever tell his parents?! Why does it always have to be the innocent bystanders! This mask makes it impossible for my tears to escape!”

*Boss calls security, drags wailing Batman out.

*Batman sobs hysterically outside.

Boss: I guess I’ll see you on Monday then!

Me: Why yes, thank you!

***I am shaken awake***

“Gerald Pereira?”

“Yeah?”

“Come on in for your interview. Great first impression, looser.”

*groan*

Human/Bicycle Conflict

Recently Whacko, Indi and I went on a walkabout of the East Coast. Excited by stories of untouched beaches, exotic seafood and original gangsta’s, we took the night train to Batticaloa. From there we headed down to Arugam Bay, famed surfing location and muse for naming of hip slipper brand.

The beach was good. That’s a blue whale of a compliment since we were sick of beaches by the end of the trip. There was this other bit of beach where surfers gathered called Peanut Farm, which we decided to cycle to. We rented push cycles for the day and set out. Or course I had to spice up the journey by nearly colliding with the rider in front of me and falling off the bike a mere five minutes after we started. Contributing factors were said to be me being a push-bike noob, crappy brakes on said bike and Indi eating people’s souls and hence making me fidgety around him.
Either way, I display my loyalty to gravity in quite a mundane manner.

We get to the place, it’s a beach. Meh. By now I’ve got blood all over my left leg and the palms of my hands are stinging. On top of that my slipper broke a while back so I had to keep stopping every five minutes to adjust it. On the way back we see an elephant standing at a distance from the road. We slowed down to look at it and the thing starts charging. Yes, you read right, no provocation required for this proud member of the Elephant Skinhead Society.

*cue This Is Your Life (Tyler Durden) by the Dust Brothers from the Fight Club Soundtrack*

And you open the door and you step inside.

The Whack and Indi start turning their bikes around just as we shout out the obvious “It’s coming at us!!!”

In my slow motion world of charging elephants and unwieldy bicycles, I sense the presence of a vehicle. A motor vehicle. A truck. I doubt any of us saw it rolling up right in front of our eyes since we were too busy staring at the rabid gargoyle of an elephant.

So in this world of blurry movement and one charging pachyderm, I weigh my options. There’s a bicycle that I’m on. It can probably outrun an elephant but I don’t fancy racing an angry beast in a contraption I’ve only just gotten to know with a knee that creaked and hands still bleeding with cuts. Then there’s this truck rolling to a stop right next to us. The massive brainpower required to compute that a truck travels faster than a bike, and much faster than an elephant, was thankfully put at my disposal by powers unknown.

What happened next was an exercise in efficiency as I lay down the bike, shouted at the driver to slow down and leapt up on the truck’s rear bumper.

I know. Pure awesomeness. Get me a part in a Jackie Chang movie already.

It’s about this point that I realize the back of the truck is full of people yelling something. I hear two people laughing their asses off behind me and I start laughing at what just happened. Apparently the elephant was just crossing the road and didn’t want us in its path. So we waited. About twenty meters from where we were originally. The elephant passed, hung around for a while, hiding in the bushes and occasionally peering out to stare daggers at us and disappeared into the surrounding forest again.

We were left slightly shaken and severely spiteful about elephants. Many were the plans to taunt the ones at the zoo with mice. They’re just wicked, man.

After that we moved up to Pasikudah and Kalkudah through Batticaloa. The food in Batti is awesome. Expect a few posts on http://sinhalayatravels.wordpress.com on the same. Pasikudah was kind of mediocre. Except for the brilliant Kottu offered by Logi in his little shop, the beach was meh. Apparently the place used to have many hotels before the war. Now there were only a handful of guest houses and a whole lot of land leased to various people.

Kalkudah on the other hand was an amazing beach. It’s just north but it is the cool older sibling to Pasi’s little runt of a nose picking brat.
From there it was on to Polonnaruwa, where we cycled around the Kings’ hood. Thankfully this time we got regular mountain bikes. Much riding down the sides of dried up water tanks ensued.

We totally used the tent everywhere we went. Contrary to all evidence, we did not in fact stay at cheap guest houses everywhere. Perish the thought. That tent was a tent that was all the richer for seeing the entire east coast by the time it got back.

On Friday I came back home since I had classes to get to, for which I had much bread to butter with marmite and napkins to fold so I can pin it to my lapel along with the water bottle round my neck. Whack and Indi went on to Badulle alone, and last I heard they were living off the fruits of love in the jungles of Ella.