Archive for the 'life' Category


Do I Write or do I Write?

In an ideal world, that title would have emphasis in the right place. Sadly, I will have to keep eying those words up there warily while willing italics into existence.

So, do I write or do I Write? This was the terrible question tearing away at my mind last Saturday eve. Do I just write in the sense that people write grocery lists and ransom notes, or do I actually “write” write, in the way that people who do it for a living do?

This bout of more thought than I like being put into something inconsequential was brought on by a TNL Radio… dude, asking me if I can’t write, whether I failed my English, and if I suck at writing when I was less than enthusiastic about filling out a form that was being distributed at the lobby at Majestic City on Saturday night. I’m sure that experiment in “Aggressive Marketing” has a bright future in public relations.

In other news, Christmas is coming again. I’m starting to dread it because I will be broke by then and won’t be able to bribe Santa into throwing a few presents this way. I don’t even feel like jotting down my usual Christmastime post or even the whiny post about how it doesn’t feel like Christmas. Troubling times, these are. My parents think I’m crazy because I sit in front of the computer laughing at it. Then I switch it on and come here to write down a post and link to it on twitter. It’s so cold out that I grew a beard to combat it, but shaved it off when I started feeling chain-mail on my chin whenever I rested it on my pillow. To top it off I’m not getting tagged in any Christmas pics on Facebook. If it weren’t for the Penguins of Madagascar life would be quite dull these days.



Recently watched “Who Turned the Lights Off?”, another FT from BeyondBorders in association with the Roteract Club of… Some place. It was pretty great. They might perform it again so keep your eyes open of you missed it. Even better than the play was a certain Mr. Kotalawela dancing to…

wait for itt…

Justin Beiber

when we went out after the play. I apologize for not taking pictures.


A Buffer of Humour!

Someone told me a few days ago, that I had a layer of humour, or lightheartedness between me and the world. It was the first I’d heard of it, and it struck me as something I would expect to be told if I was forty and driving a station wagon. It sounded like something I would be told in a circumstance such as if my forty-year old self’s kid had just kicked him and he just laughed it off as an eight year old’s angst.

As it were, I was told this just last Thursday, if I remember correctly, and I was still only twenty, the last time I checked. It confounded me. So naturally I just went along with it and agreed wholeheartedly. When I got home that night, I got to thinking about this water-bed of fluff that I had between me, my mind, and the real world. I realized it didn’t exist. It was a myth. Like women who can’t cook.

What it is, is just my way of coping with life. I don’t put up a barrier reef between myself and the tides of problems, pain, anger, idiots and sheer complications that wash up on the coasts of my senses. Sometimes you just have to ignore it. I’ve got a story to tell today, if you’ll indulge me.

Imagine you’re an island. If that saying about no man being an island is a thorn in your side, imagine you’re a woman first, then imagine you’re an island. A small island, smaller than the country we live in, located somewhere in the middle of the ocean, replete with sandy beaches and palm trees. Now imagine life as a great big storm brewing out at sea. Swirling, tearing through the air making sea creatures exclaim in surprise for miles and miles. You can imagine their cries of “Goodness me, that could put a dent in our plans for camping out this weekend” if you please. But you’d better not, since that would distract you a bit from the big picture. The big, gray, spinning mass of clouds that make up your big picture.

Now, you’re an island. Most storms wouldn’t matter much to you. You’ll survive. A few trees torn up, and a couple of television serial actors lost, but nothing you can’t grow back or work into the storyline. Eventually the storm subsides and life goes back to being the calm, rolling mass of water in front of you. Little ebbs and flows this way and that along your coasts, leaving your lips all salty and dry. The storm, having raised hell and then having smashed it down on the ground again, has left only scattered bits of debris around for you to pick at and inspect. The strips of seaweed torn up from the ocean bed and thrown at your feet are occasionally interrupted by bits of a ship, or pieces of wood. Sometimes you find a coconut.

Life doesn’t give you lemons, it gives you coconuts. Lots of coconuts. All the little odds and ends you find on the beach are covered in sand, your sand. They’re you flavoured now. All the things life throws at you are changed the moment you perceive them shooting towards you. You coat them in a nice even layer of yourself. Making it oh so easy to just pick it up, look at it, and if it’s not of any interest, throw it away. If you see something shining in the distance, a little piece of ship that washed up on your shores, some little bit of someone else’s life that you find interesting, pick it up. Take a nice long look at it and think about it. Lick it. Gnaw on it for a bit, testing your teeth on it like when you were a kid. Take it in and do something with it. Maybe write a post about it.

Everything else, the corroded bits of hull, the swollen bodies of sailors staring at you with their legs buried in your sand, the birds picking at them one by one, every single detail that comes across as not something to worry an island over, just let it be. The water will eventually come over and drag it all away again. Feel every rusted slab of metal tear at your shores, every bit of wood getting stuck on the roots of trees at the edges of your sands and hear all the little noises they all make. Then just make a note of it and keep looking along the beach till you find something interesting to gnaw on.

If islands gnaw on things, that is. Selectivity is the key here, and an island that chooses right is an island which gets called out for having a buffer of humour between it and the sea. Choosing what matters is not difficult. Living isn’t difficult. Being an island isn’t difficult. Just be aware that all the places on your shores that were ravaged by the storm will heal, and that everything that turns up should be dealt with. Most importantly, dealing with something doesn’t necessarily mean doing something to it.

Well, at least that’s how my brain works. I just refuse to acknowledge any unsavory vibes happening around me, and just deal with what I have to. It might not seem like the best way to live a life, but somehow, it works for me. Just look at my blog.


Backwards Weekend


Yesterday. I showed up around nine to a roomful of people I didn’t recognize. Then Sinidu showed up and gave me my free ticket. So I found myself an uncomfortable metal chair and sat. Turned out Celestial Dream was sitting n front of me. According to St. Fallen who came in later she was wearing an interesting top. But anyway,

Most of the speakers were interesting, whereas some were dead boring.They also showed some TED videos from the site. Interesting bits were meeting the pavementleaf and some woman I thought was T.

There was some woman there, with sunglasses perched atop her head. Fallen, for some reason, thought that was a clear sign that it was T. Apparently T is a beach person. Apparently beach people wear sunglasses everywhere. Gehan wears sunglasses. He’s in kandy. Didn’t realize Sri Lanka was half submerged in the sea.

So I dramatically turn, point at her and go “AHA!”. She stares, looks away. I look back at Fallen. He laughs. I look back at the woman, mumble something like “You’re not tea are you? I’msorrymistakethisguy…..”, and then elbow Fallen. In the stomach. Cow.

Being stared at as if you were a druggie on the street is not fun. Hitting fallen is.

Met Rannelee there too. She waved at me frantically while I was on the phone, leaving me wondering who the hell it was. She gets a link because she bought us juice after the thing from roots. Everyone is advised to ask her for things when first meeting.

Sabby’s Place

Went over to wreak havoc. Wreaked very little. Just threw a few pillows around, splattered wine on a wall and ambled out in the evening. Also managed to get @hijinx to log into TweetDeck and throw a few tweets around. @sabbyaz deleted all the tweets I made on her account. Hag. On the bright side she’s started a new blog.


Wanted a repeat of last Friday. Didn’t get it. Went to food court, waited, got donuts, off to burger king for dinner. Notably, papareboy pulled on whacko’s collar to see inside. I’m not kidding. He then goes “Oh I’m sorry, was just checking whether your chest was hairy”. Oh, that was all? All’s right then. WTF? That’s like going “Oh I was wondering if it would fit” after sticking your head up an elephant’s ass. After a satisfying dinner we were off home. No beach or anything :/

Went to for the first time. Bad photoshops. The cons of pirated software. Why don’t all those bands just hire me to do all their album covers instead of that dude who’s called a graphic designer because he can take a face and slap in on a Llama?

Single again.


The Times They Are a-Changin’

I was listening to the Watchmen soundtrack on the way to work today. Song in the title started playing. It was Bob Dylan, one of those fashionable to listen to fellas. Listening to him, I almost felt cool enough to use an iPod. Listening to him, I could see the movie playing in my head. Listening to him, I could see the movie merging into real life. Listening to him, I started wondering if I’d missed my bus stop.

Then I forgot all about the song when Technical Difficulties by Julien K started playing.

Times are supposed to be changing over here. What with the war being over and all. I’m not sure what exactly is changing, but all I see are minor differences.

What the war was to me –

  • Roadblocks – Apparently they’re going to be reduced now.
  • Checking all over the place – Still goes on.
  • Soldiers all over the place, making it hard to find dark street corners to go take a leak – Still the same.
  • News of things blowing up interrupting my sitcoms – Don’t watch much TV anymore.

And that is, more or less, what I notice. And apart from the roadblocks, it’s still the same. I mean, I didn’t even write about the war, so even my content doesn’t change. I daresay whacko here in his other blog would know something about all these changes, where he uses strange words like “brouhahas”, “oligopolistic” and “other countries”. He also delivers judgment on how attractive various PR people are.

There’s a converter app in most Nokia phones. But them being stupid as they are, they only included temperature conversions. You have to manually add conversion rates for the rest. So, looking through the list of empty categories, I came across Length, Area, Temperature etc. etc. At the bottom of the list was “Lifestyle”. What kind of category is that? Is the place you put conversions like “Women Slept With – Men Slept With”? I would be grateful if anyone can shine a spotlight on it.


Jerry’s View On Relationships

…Is unavailable at the moment, due to severe mental instability caused by the subject matter of the title.Relationships, not Jerry.

Reeled you in with THAT one eh? Expected ol’ me to talk about confusion, surprise, death, destruction and many, many ribbons? That’s not what relationships are about? I didn’t notice. -_-
Yes rf, I stole your smiley. Bite me.


Since I’ve established that you lot are a bunch of cricket hating traitors to the motherland, with only a few of you even having a soul, I have nothing left to write here. :s I’ve tried to pin it on someone sucking my life out, but I’m not so sure now. I’m eating breakfast at the moment, crumpets. I used to love this stuff, and now I’m just barely getting them down my throat. Come on, loss of appetite? Much time spent in a confused daze mulling over what to do? Yes people, I’m dying.

I see that I’ve made it to some list s. Go read my opinion on ranking at the respective posts. Although I love these sorts of things, since I am ‘at the core’ a vain, attention starved kid, I am quite disappointed by where I stand in all this. Well what do you expect? I still claim to have an ego that can by itself be classified as a planet. Anything less than a score of 141089 out of 5 is a disgrace. But still, I seem to be slowly withering away. Not in real life, that is, just me as in what you see here. Which is about 80% of real life.

I will join the ranks of the undead with grace.
Wish me luck in plodding through life at a slow trudge,
and munching at your skull if I can’t find a fudge.

Don’t ask.

And to whom it may concern, and by that I mean Dee, I AM NOT SKINNY 😛 . I am the proud owner of a BMI that is on the right end of the ‘average’ marker. An upper middle class BMI, if I may say so myself.



Whack’s recent post got me thinking again. He’s been hitting a lot of nails on lots of heads recently. As unbelievable as that may seem.

Cool things change fast. For example, if software piracy was called something like “Illegal data reproduction”, do you think so many people would be into it? How can they hope to stop it with a name like that? Leaving that question hanging, let’s see what people are like.

There’s cool, there’s uncool, and then there’s you and me. “Cool people” I say, are a myth. Many people might think you cool for something or another, but many more will regard you as just another sheep. Uncool people are abound. You all know them. But then again these “uncool” people are cool to some others. Even this judging of whether someone is cool or not would make me uncool, right? But some people do act certain ways to have an effect on others. And none of you can deny it. Be it either impressing the hot girl in class or trying to get a job. Is pop culture cool? I think most of us would slap an “As seen on MTV” sticker on the face of anyone trying to imitate Soulja Boy. Even the people who go all out to distance themselves from pop culture are called retards. Mommy and Daddy work till five so they wander around looking for trends to rant about. Then there are people who feign semi-insanity in the hopes of getting noticed. And then there’s people who keep spewing stuff to entertain others, and try to ‘Peddle sarcasm as a higher form of wit’. Like me. Not too sure on the ‘entertaining’ bit though.

There is no cool or uncool. Just people… who do… stuff.


The Ex-Political Post

So I wrote up a ‘political’-ish post. It wasn’t very interesting. So off it went to the great heavenly “Drafts” bin. It had all that stuf about independence day and associated hazards like gigantic alien spaceships, stuff happening in the north and if we’ll eventually have a reenactment of Tiananmen Square in Fort. Hypnotize springs to mind. And those awe inspiring images of the student standing in the way of the tank. We’ll never have that. The students will be _driving_ the tanks here. With all the minorities and dissenters being crushed in their tracks. Dammit. This one’s turning politikal too.

Anyway, Music is weird. I go from

“I don’t need this s**t
You stupid sadistic abusive f***ing w***e
would you like to see how it feels mommy
Here it comes, get ready to die!”


“I’m walking on sunshine wooah
I’m walking on sunshine wooah
I’m walking on sunshine wooah”

In just a flick of a switch. Mood changing, from wishing to break everything in sight to beaming joy. Don’t judge me. If you don’t like ‘Walking on Sunshine’ you have no soul, and the devil will gnaw at the toes of your poor, lifeless existence till finally you trip on a protruding root, fall off the rooftop garden of a 100 story building and find yourself in hell. With your mother posing for pictures at the entrance like a sadistic playboy bunny.

Hmm… Hot girl walked in. I’m off…