Darkside Daily

PSA: A Movie Review Of The Worst Chick Flick In History

2012-01-18T11:58:00.001+05:30

Last night was movie night, and I was quite looking forward to it. I had a few good movies on my list, and since I had nothing to do all evening I decided I would try to squeeze in two movies before hitting the bed.

I had already decided that my second movie was going to be the highly rated "Warrior", so I decided to go against my better judgement and watch a popcorn chick flick that had been sitting in my 'Movies' folder for months. Why? I don't mind some simple, cliched comedy once in a while to pass the time. Think of it as salad; I wouldn't go actively looking for it at the buffet, but I wouldn't say no if someone served it to me.

And so I began watching "Something Borrowed"; a rom-com starring Giniffer Goodwin (from "He' Just Not That Into You") and the ever blonde Kate Hudson. I wasn't expecting much, but boy was I in for a surprise.

Yes, between love, friendship and madness

Before I go any further, let me just warn you that I'm going to be laying out all the plot details in this post, so 'spoiler alert: code red' here. Secondly, this isn't really a 'spoiler'; think of it more as me saving you the horror of watching this abysmally awful movie.

Goodwin and Hudson play Rachel and Darcy, two best friends since childhood. Of course, Rachel is the studious, lawyer type while Darcy is a beautiful, partying, fun-loving, always drunk, not very bright-bordering-more-on-mentally-challenged blonde. Of course, she is played by Kate Hudson. Despite their differences they're close (God knows why) and the movie starts with a surprise party thrown by Darcy for Rachel. Blah blah, video of how they've been friends for years, along with their male best friend Ethan played by John Krasinski (of The Office fame). Sarcastic, rude but honest, Ethan is by far the only likable character in this disaster.

BFF's!!

At the birthday, we find out that Darcy is about to get married to Dex, a very good looking, almost real-life photoshop guy who happens to be Rachel's law college classmate.

Now that we know all the characters, let me go through the plot really fast. Hold onto your hats.

After the party, drunk Darcy gets taken home, leaving Dex and Rachel to have "one last drink", where Rachel admits to having a crush on Dex in college. Cue flashback scene of awkward college scenes, followed by awkward present day silence. They share a cab home, she apologises, he kisses her, they sleep together to the tune of romantic music in the background. Because this shiz is romantic.

The next morning, there's panic; Dex is running out saying "we'll figure it out" while at the same time making puppy-dog eyes at Rachel trying to signify this "meant something". Cue guilt, cue awkward lies, and then everyone goes to the Hamptons for the weekend. Cue awkward moments, Dex having very vocal sex with his fiance while Rachel listens outside, Darcy trying to set up Rachel with Dex's neanderthalic best friend, and Ethan making wisecracks here and there.

Fast forward to lots of "what do we do, should we do this, what are we doing, what is this?" crap, then comes the 4th of July, and Dex proposes that he stay back in New York under false pretenses so that he can spend time alone with Rachel and "figure things out". Cue soppy romantic weekend together while Darcy is (of course) partying and getting hammered in the Hamptons. Whoops! They bump into Dex's parents by accident, have an awkward brunch with them where the father pulls his confused, cheating son aside and says "Yo, I know what's going down here, you best check yo'self before you wreck yo'self, and dump this broad else I'mma cut your white ass out". Of course, he said this in a very aristocratic accent and vocabulary, because Dex is rolling in the dollars.

Cue awkward confused face. Cue awkward goodbyes.

Months go by, Ethan finds out about the whole affair and is the voice of reason throughout all this madness, trying to convince Rachel to either go for the guy or quit.

Then things pick up! Darcy sleeps over at Rachels (because obviously, she's drunk again), and tells her what a great friend she is. Rachel is neck-deep in guilt. Darcy asks her if she's doing the right thing by marrying Dex. Rachel does the 'noble' thing and says of course she is, before Darcy admits to having cheated on him. INTRIGUE! WHO IS THIS MYSTERY MAN?

And then, the decision scene! Of course they're at a bar, Darcy is dry humping Dex on the floor while Rachel watches on, in anguish. (The lols). Heart-broken, she storms off into the rain. Yes, it's raining, she's walking in the rain. Dex calls after her! She makes a big speech (while standing in the rain) about not doing things to make anyone happy, that she wants to be happy herself! That he shouldn't marry her just because his parents said so and because it'll look bad to end it, but to do what's in his heart! Then she tell him she loves him! In the rain! He smiles!

He says "sorry, I can't do it".

End scene.

By this time the audience is raging against all the characters and wondering where this story is going. The wedding comes around, and Rachel seeks solace in Ethan's company. Ethan, the sole surviving intelligent and likable character in this movie, then commits character-suicide by saying he's secretly in love with Rachel. Rachel awws him and pats him sympathetically on the back. End scene.

Rachel returns home to prepare for the wedding to find Dex on her doorstep, stalker style. He says he's called off the wedding! He wants to be with her! The rain speech actually worked! (Duh)

But wait! Darcy comes knocking on the door, so naturally Dex goes into hiding. Darcy barges in, saying she's glad the wedding is over because she wasn't sure about it. Now, as if the writers hadn't made Darcy's character repulsive enough, Darcy admits to not just cheating on Dex once, but several times over with his best friend. How coincidental! Oh but wait, she's also pregnant!

I shit you not.

And so she's about to leave the apartment, and the audience is left thinking Oh God, is this how it ends, is this the 'happy ever after', until she sees Dex's jacket on the floor. Somehow, despite being drunk, in anguish and, well, an utter idiot up to this point, Darcy pulls off some quick deduction and realises that Rachel has been sleeping with Dex all the time and storms back into the room to confront him. Cue Dex and Darcy accusing each other of being the worse criminal, Darcy telling Rachel she hates her, end scene.

Final scene; it's two months later. Rachel happily walking down the street, bumps into a pregnant Darcy. Tells her she's sorry. Darcy says I'm happy you're happy. Rubs her baby bump, Beyonce style. They part, still not friends but 'happy for each other'. Rachel rounds the corner, jumps into Dex's arms, and they live happily ever after.

Okay, let's just pause to breathe here, while I summarise what this piece of trash is trying to tell us.

The first thing we learn here is that the stereotypes are true; blondes really are dumb, drunk, materialistic, selfish, party animals who pursue men only to validate their looks.
Apparently, sleeping with your best friend's fiance is romantic and, according to the writers, even admirable since after all, it's "true love". Cue violins.
Friendship is not the most important bond; in fact, if friendship gets in the way of what you want, screw that!
Being strung along by the guy of your dreams is acceptable, if only because he's conflicted and confused. Putting up with him having very wild sex with his fiance or dry humping her on the dance floor in front of you (while making sad faces at you) is just his way of showing how conflicted and confused he is.
When you do something so despicably wrong (like sleeping with your best friend's fiance!), just hang on a second before apologising. The chances are, the person you wronged has probably done something worse towards you, and you just didn't know it. Besides, if it feels right, you're probably justified. Oh look! She's pregnant with his best friend; carry on, adulterers.

Seriously Hollywood, what is this garbage that you're trying to sell us? It's amazing just how childishly immature your writers come across as after watching this steaming pile of excrement. First you write a story about someone who does something pretty damn awful, and then somehow spin it so that no one pays for the consequences of their actions, because none of your characters seem to have any morals, and then try to justify it by painting the victim as some villainous, petty and unrealistic character that is somehow still best friends with your lead character! I cannot believe that the writers actually expected the audience to actually root for this adulterous couple, despite what anyone's moral compass (no matter how skewed) would be telling them.

Imdb.com gave this a 5.6, which is probably enough for me to never consider their ratings ever again. Rotten Tomatoes gave it a much more realistic 14%.

Bottom line: I have no issues with rom-coms and their sometimes silly premise. One of my favourite movies is actually a rom-com ("Wedding Crashers"), and I don't believe all movies have to stick to my standards of what is intelligent and entertaining. But marketing movies like this makes me wonder who I should feel more sorry for; the writers, the cast, or the audience that helped it rake in $39 million and actually make a profit of over $4 million.

Note: Apparently, this movie is based on a book. I feel like this is Twilight all over again..

The Melomanic Sessions: A Brief Recap

2012-01-10T15:18:00.000+05:30

So the Melomanic Sessions last Sunday at the Warehouse Project was fun! It was just a little over a couple of weeks back that Asela asked me to perform, so picking out a 3 song set was a bit more stressful than I would have liked. Still, after practising after work for a week, I felt somewhat confident turning up on Sunday.

The Warehouse Project is seriously the perfect location for a stripped down, acoustic show - especially considering that the warehouse itself has sections that are in various stages of being stripped down as well. The large open hall, the warm lighting and echo-filled acoustics are begging for nice, clean and precise music. We started a little late but not nearly as late as the earlier show, and by some luck of the draw I had been pencilled in to open the proceedings.

It was definitely a fun experience! Opening can be a bit of a curse however; I'm sure a majority of the audience completely forgot my performance after hearing the serious talent of our other guests. From original compositions to The Beatles to Live to Adele to The Cranberries, from pianos to guitars to flutes to cellos, there was no shortage of variety. I thoroughly enjoyed myself, and I say this not just because I was playing! In fact, once the pressure of performing was removed, I was able to sit back and really appreciate some great local talent.

I've yet to upload the videos for my performance but they should be up by the weekend. Unlike past videos, you'll (finally) be able to see me while I sing instead of my animated fingers and torso. Enjoy it while it lasts! Until then though I've attached the Soundcloud recording of the set, I hope you like it!

A couple of pictures from the show; all except the first picture courtesy of T.

Gehan's Set by themelomanicsessions

Edit: Finally uploaded the videos, so linking them here.

Enjoy!

Guess Who's Playing For The Melomanic Sessions This Weekend?

2012-01-05T17:04:00.001+05:30

Who knew social networking would actually help me network, socially?

Thanks to Twitter, Facebook, this blog, some Youtube videos and a newspaper article (not to mention shameless plugging by T), I've had the privilege of being asked to play at a couple of occasions of late. I blogged about the fashion show "En Vous" which I played at a few months ago, and my next 'gig' is for the "Melomanic Sessions" happening this Sunday.

(Click here for the promo video.)

The Melomanic Sessions already had one, well, 'session' last November, and it was a great success, with the proceeds going to a worthy cause. This time, instead of charging a fixed entrance fee, you can come listen to some great acoustic music by donating whatever you feel is appropriate, as these funds will go towards the Warehouse Project's "EAT" program and utilized for a payment of appreciation to participating performers of the evening.

Asela and co. are a lot more experienced bunch when it comes to these things, so I'm hoping I don't let the side down! I worked frantically to come up with three songs that I could pull off live without re-edits and re-recording, and I hope it turns out well. Do come if you're free, it'll be at the Warehouse Project, Maradana at 6:30pm this coming Sunday, the 8th of January. The FB event page can be found here if you need more details, as well as a list of the other performers.

Hope to see you there!

Gehan

Conan The Librarian: A Movie Review

2012-01-03T12:34:00.000+05:30

It had to happen eventually: after having "Conan The Barbarian (2011)" in my movie folder for almost a month and a half, I knew I would have to sit down and watch it sooner or later. Why did I get it in the first place? Because despite poor reviews, I always like to give movies a chance, especially if I feel the material could be used to make something surprising.

However, "Conan" was not such a movie. When the best scenes are in the first ten minutes of the movie and don't involve the main character, you have a problem on your hands. Jason Momoa plays adult Conan, a barbarian, born on the battlefield. However, despite a lot of blood being spilled and some intriguing ways of killing off people, I found his Conan to be slightly - tame.

Let's compare, shall we?

You see, when I heard that Momoa was playing Conan, I naturally assumed it would be somewhat along the lines of his depiction of Khal Drogo in the show "Game of Thrones". That's him, on the left, and as you can tell, he's a real bad-ass. For real.

Now, with a name like "Conan The Barbarian" it kinda goes without saying that you expect to see a little barbaric activity. The first ten minutes of the movie definitely lived up to those expectations. Without giving too much away, let me just say it shows a young Conan, displaying some very nasty skills. Honestly, that kid was crazy, and totally believable.

Fast forward to the adult Conan, and things just didn't hold up. Jason Momoa, while showing flashes of barbarianism (word?) did not live up to the hype generated in the trailer. While I understand how they wanted to portray Rachel Nichols character Tamara (the love interest/damsel in distress) as being tough as nails, they carried it a bit too far in my opinion. I'm okay with an 'ass-kicking babe', but talking back to one of the fiercest warriors of lore? Yeah, Conan, you got punk'd. Now go wash the dishes.

As for the rest of the movie, it was almost a joke. The movie moves through so many different cities and locations in an attempt (I assume) to portray the vastness of the landscape, but these little 5 second cut scenes with some building or temple in the background and "Mushemillah" or whatever written below were just pointless; all the places looked pretty much the same. In the end I was wondering why they even bothered.

Of course, when you have a Barbarian hero, you need an equally bad-ass villain. Enter Khalar-Zym, a dude who wants to resurrect some ancient evil so that he can a) be king over the whole world and b) bring his dead wife back to life. He is aided by his sorceress daughter, played by a very creepy/sexy (depending on your taste) goth Rose McGowan. Honestly, she was the most convincing of the cast; clearly all those years on "Charmed" paid off.

In the end of course, after establishing that Conan is a bad-ass with a good heart (and a sense of humour, unfortunately), and that Rachel Nichols is a tough but dainty princess, handy with a knife but quick to scream "CONAN!!" in terror, we have the unnecessary R-rated sex scene (yawn), the typical damsel-in-distress situation, followed by Conan to the rescue, then cue end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it scenario, people hanging off ledges about to die, walls collapsing all over the place, skulls falling down from the skies (I kid you not), and the eventual victory of our hero.

In a word, it was awful. Rachel Nichols must be wondering what she's got to do to get a good gig around here; G.I. Joe didn't do her any favours, and now this. Oh she was in "Dumb and Dumberer"? Never mind then.

Best line from the movie: Conan (to Tamara): "You look like a harlot."

Worst line from the movie: Conan: "I live, I love, I slay; I am content." - (pretty cool on paper, right? But just wait till Momoa actually says it in the movie. I've heard more emotion from Stephen Hawkins' voice box.

PS: Just a thought; why does everything have to blow up or collapse after the 'big evil' is defeated? It's always the case, the hero kills the bad guy, and as a result the big elaborate castle/structure/weapon of death just starts collapsing on itself and dying. Here, Conan rides off into the sunset and the skull shaped cave he was fighting in (again, I kid you not) just crumbles in the distance. Why, just.. why?

An Uneasy Christmas

2011-12-25T02:03:00.001+05:30

Christmas is one of my favourite times of the year, for very selfish and obvious reasons - holidays, and lots of presents (my birthday is a few days before Christmas). Yet, I am not alone when it comes to general euphoria regarding the month of December. There are an avalanche of Christmas parties, promotions, sales, events and decor. It's nigh impossible to not feel 'christmassy' - the feeling is almost literally shoved down your throat come December 1st.

However, this year I have felt rather uneasy about the festive season. The occasional Christmas tune on the radio only annoyed me, and the hopeless radio commercials with people going "Ho ho ho Santa says buy this ho ho ho!" made me want to remove my ear drums. The very dark Sri Lankan males in their very white Santa masks made me pity the poor children that would be on the receiving end of their attempts at being jolly.

No, something was just off this year, and I couldn't put my finger on it. Whatever it was though, it has stayed with me till today, and as a result my Christmas morning is just another late, late night.

My cousins from India are down for the holidays and they were commenting on how lavishly decorated Colombo was, and how surprised they were that a Buddhist country like ours would celebrate Christmas so enthusiastically. Yes, Colombo is all lit up, but as with almost everything in our nation's capital, it is more a cosmetic illusion than anything of real substance. Streets are lit up and shops are illuminated, simply because they know our buying masses are more likely to flock to the better lit store. Our hotels desperately put together manger scenes and reindeer, so that their paying foreign guests get just a taste of Christmas 'back home', despite choosing to be thousands of miles away. Pavements are filled with Cyprus branches, despite there being a ban on the selling of them, because everyone wants a Christmas tree in their home, just to decorate. Radio stations play awful versions of Christmas carols and hymns, label it the 'christmas song of the hour', followed by a brief message from a sponsor. It is all fairly nauseating.

Being a Christian, celebrating Christmas is pretty understandable, but I've always wondered why others do. At our carol programme at work, the Catholic priest's speech was followed by a short speech by a Buddhist priest who was invited too. My Sinhala is abysmal, unfortunately; I wish I knew what he said. I recently asked an non-Christian friend of mine and she jokingly told me that I couldn't keep Christmas to myself, and that we had to 'share' it. Is that what we're doing? Am I simply unwilling to 'share' this special holiday? My instinct is to say 'no', but it is a point to ponder.

So while I am still somewhat confused about the festivities this year, I can say that I am glad to be home for Christmas. I'm fairly boring that way; I feel that Christmas and New Year's need to be spent with family, and not with friends. I'm also glad that I'm not in Colombo, with its almost desperate attempt at being Western and cosmopolitan. I'm glad that the presents I wrapped today had real meaning, and were not simply out of necessity. I'm glad that while my Facebook feed is filling up with pictures of 'Christmas parties' with drunk guys and girls in 'slutty Santa/elf' outfits, I will be celebrating in a more sober, and yet (at least for me) more real way - with reflection, love, prayer and gratitude.

Of course, at the end of the day, I am no one to judge. To each his own, and to all, a very Merry Christmas.

Twenty Minute Posting V: Christmas Edition

2011-12-16T13:36:00.000+05:30

It's been a while since I've put up a Twenty Minute post. I haven't had much time on my hands for blogging of late, but somehow I felt like I need to just put my work aside for a while and write.

Yes, I'm blogging from work. Dear employer, please don't read this, and if you do - show some kindness, it's (almost) Christmas!

Just a few days left in the year, and even less days left at work. Despite liberally using my leave this year I've managed to save enough to use for the Christmas break. Looking forward to the family and the cousin's family coming down from India for the first time.

[got called away by boss; this may not have been a great idea.]

Two things; firstly, I hate saying 'no'.

Perhaps a shrink would be able to give me a nice reason for this, wrapped up in psychology and research. But for now, I am left with my own reasons. Now, I'm not talking about saying 'no' to people asking me ridiculous favours, or for help that I'm in no place to give e.t.c; I have no problem telling someone that 'hey, I'm sorry, but I can't help you with that.'.

Yet, there are always situations where I find myself longing dearly to say or do a certain thing, but letting my logical, pragmatic mind get the better of me and saying "sorry, it just wouldn't make sense to do that". See, just reading that line, do you not get a sense of detachment in it? But that's really not the case; my mind just works that way. I know people who do the most ridiculous things for family and love, even if it makes absolutely no practical sense at all. I tell them "Dude, you're insane, this is going to kill you!", but they rarely listen and that just annoys me.

Or maybe it's because I envy their ability to shut their logical thinking down, just for those situations that demand it. I must work on that.

Secondly; I wonder if it is simply because the year is drawing to a close that we feel a sense of weariness in December. At least I do; I always feel like December is the pinnacle of some mighty mountain that I have somehow scraped myself to the top of. This is not necessarily true, factually, but that is the mindset. This is probably why normally, I never start anything 'new' in December. Everything gets pushed back to 'after new year', even if this may not be practical.

Either way, most of my projects for work are all winding down, and it looks like it will be a good Christmas, God-willing. Plans have been made for some quality time with the people I love, interspersed by the few work commitments I still have remaining. So it looks like things are in place for new beginnings and new directions come January after all, keeping in time with the universe's schedule for events.

I feel like there's so much more I want to say, but my time is up.

Back to work.

#16Days: Not My Father's Son

2011-12-08T17:30:00.000+05:30

The moon is shockingly bright that night, adding an aura of surrealism to the scene. The soft bluish hue washes over the river banks, as a light breeze dances among the long blades of grass that grew there.

He is tall, still and silent, standing a few metres away from the rushing waters. The moonlight casts long shadows over his face, hiding his features, yet it was not hard to see the tension in his frame. He is bare chested, in a simple villager's garb, clutching a small bundle in his strong, muscular arms.

He lifts his head to the heavens, taking in the beauty of the night. The clouds are imposing in their blackness, fighting to conceal the radiance of the moon in some mystical battle of the skies. The faint breeze barely rustles the grass, yet it carries with it a deafening silence, filling his ears with nothing.

He nods, imperceptibly, to himself; yes, surely tonight is a magical night. Surely, tonight is special.

His thoughts are interrupted by the call of a nocturnal animal, and his gaze drifts over to the dim lights of his village in the distance. It is a good hours walk, but he was happy to make it. This place was special to him.

For it was here, that as a child he played with his friends, dashing among the river stones, diving into the waters to overpower and wrestle with the other boys, laughing and dancing under the watchful eyes of their fathers. It was here that he had grown accustomed to his father's approving gaze, whenever he raced to the banks first, or threw a pebble across the surface further, or when he swam the furthest without any hint of fatigue. He had come to love and even crave that glint in his father's eye, that showed that he was proud. It was intoxicating.

His father had been good to him. He had provided him with everything he could, and as a dutiful son he had helped bear his father's load; first in the home, and then with his work. He did it joyfully, knowing that this was the way it was done. This was how it was meant to be. Why else was he born, if not to take over from his father once he grew weak? It had been the way for generations. His father had told him as such, until the day he died.

Now, here he was, so many years later. He is no longer a boy, yet at this moment, he has never been more unsure of his manhood. He has been growing tired with every passing day, more so than usual. His wife's nightly duties no longer pleased him; in fact, she barely pleased him at all. There was no joy in work, no comfort at home.

How had his father done it, he wonders? But he knows the answer; his father had him. He had realised as such many months ago, and it was a sign from the heavens when his wife told him she was with child.

As soon as he had heard this news, he knew it was what he had been missing. Not a day went by when he did not dream of life after the child arrived. The joy he had once felt from his own father, he would now bestow on his child. A child of his own, to love and to care for, to teach and to mentor, until that child was old enough and strong enough to lift this burden off his shoulders.

He is brought back to the present suddenly, as the baby in his arms starts to cry. He looks down, and realises he has been holding it too tight while lost in his thoughts. He looks at the baby's face, round and full yet somehow glowing in the dim light. It continues to cry; a sign of weakness, he tells himself. This baby is nothing like him, despite what his foolish wife tells him. How dare she compare him to this, this crying, sobbing, twisting...

.. girl?

In a trance, he takes a step forward, and another, and another. His feet enter the water, and he presses on. The waters rush around his ankles, then his knees, and then his waist. The rushing stream is icy cold, and yet it cannot match the chill he feels inside of him. He looks back at the shore, a moment of indecision, and in the dim moonlight he sees his father, from many decades ago, seated on the rocks, watching him. Smiling at him, and nodding at him in approval; and in that moment, he makes up his mind.

He looks back at this baby one last time, this wretched baby girl that should have been his newborn prince. She is silent now, and her eyes suddenly lock onto his. He is transfixed, his gaze only broken as the clouds win their battle with the moon, engulfing the night in darkness.

Minutes go by before the moonlight finally breaks free again, its rays falling to the ground to find him standing in the water. Alone.

I'm not sure how well this post fits in with the others I've seen for the '16 Days of Activism Against Gender-based Violence', but somehow I could not shake this scene from my head. I was inspired by many of the posts written already, especially this post by Dilly where she says "Violence (particularly against women) is sometimes un-physical, passive, and the signs aren't skin deep." I found that to be very true; often we think that violence entails pots and pans and beatings, and while those are widespread in themselves, we often overlook the simple things such as words, actions and attitudes.

In 1984, a study in Bombay found out that 7999 out of 8000 abortions performed after prenatal sex determination were girls. In another study, it was found that in Jaipur, capital of the state of Rajasthan, prenatal sex determination tests resulted in 3500 abortions of female foetuses annually. If you can't fathom that, try this: India as a whole loses half a million girls a year to prenatal sex selective abortion and infanticide.*

This is real. This is happening. As I wrote this post, I felt so completely helpless; hopefully, together through efforts like the the 16 Days of Activism, we can affect a change that we as individuals would be powerless to achieve.

*Sources from here and here.

Black

2011-11-14T09:59:00.001+05:30

What happens when love dies?

Does it simply evaporate like the morning mist, to be forgotten till it is seen again and no sooner? Or does it transform itself into another emotion with equal intensity; anger, depression, apathy? Some say that losing love is almost as powerful an emotion as being in love, and I would have to agree.

Here's a song that to me, is one of the most gut-wrenching, most powerful songs about love I've heard, and Eddie Vedder just sings it with such raw emotion. I've always wanted to sing this song live, but never had the opportunity to; it would sound beautiful with strings, don't you think?

It's been a while, but I hope you know the routine: click here to listen to the original, and click here to download the mp3. Don't forget to check out my youtube channel to see some other covers I've done (my cover of Rob Thomas' "Ever The Same" is about to become my 5th song with 3000+ views - mindblown!) (Hi Pseudorandom!).

I must admit I worked my ass off for this one; let me know what you think!

The Brutal Truth

2011-11-12T21:56:00.000+05:30

The following is a small excerpt from the last episode of "House", a show I absolutely love, not so much for the quality of the episodes (which are good) but for the amazing intricacies that Hugh Laurie has managed to extract from the character over a period of 7 and a half years.

The scene begins with the entire team discussing the latest turn of events regarding a patient who needs a liver transplant. Strangely, he feels he cannot accept a liver transplant unless he tells the potential donors the truth about him, and that is he was cheating on his wife when he was struck by this 'mystery illness'. Unfortunately, when he goes to confess to his friends, he tells them that he has cheated and stolen from each one of them as well, resulting in almost all his friends who lined up to donate, leaving.

Chase: Telling the truth may have just cost this guy his life.

Adams: I told him to confess that he cheated, not confess every sin he's ever committed.

Park: If everyone did that, we wouldn't find a donor for anyone.

Adams: Everybody doesn't lie, cheat and steal from their friends.

Chase: Yeah they do. Maybe not as much as this guy, but if people told nothing but the truth the world would probably burn down overnight.

Adams [shrugs]: Some people think it's burning now. Maybe if everybody didn't lie...

House [joins the table]: Oh that is just cute.

Adams: [confused]

House: I'm talking about your breasts. They always get perky when you're being painfully earnest. Truth. It's uncomfortable isn't it? More truth: I only noticed because Chase was staring at them. He'll never admit it because he doesn't want to offend you, same reason he'll never tell you he's thought about having sex with you. But to be fair, every man you've ever met has thought about having sex with you. They'll lie; probably because if you knew, you wouldn't want to have sex with them. And that's just some of the lies from the last minute...

And here's a bigger one: you already know this. But you pretend you don't because it makes you feel civilized.

Most people find it easier to ignore the truth.

Points to ponder?

This segment of "TV Show Therapy" is brought to you by this glorious long weekend.

Indie Ink Writing Challenge: Silence

2011-11-10T22:46:00.001+05:30

While others were fearful of his words, it was his silence that terrified me.

Not the silence that Mom chose to adorn herself with whenever he was in one of his 'moods'; this silence was different.

No, my father is more imposing in his silence, and more demanding of respect. His silence means not just disapproval, but complete rejection.

My mistakes are not just errors in judgement to him, they are utter failures.

I am an only child, and as such there is no measuring stick to gauge his affection by. It is either mild annoyance or silent judgement. These are his favourite emotions.

I am 29 years old. I have a good job, good pay and a good life. I have never let anyone push me around, never let myself get taken for a ride, never let a man tell me what to do. I have fought tooth and nail to get to where I am, and while it is no lofty height, I know I am an influential and important woman in my own right.

Yet this old, balding, slightly obese man, with his clipped mustache and clipped conversation, is able to reduce me to dirt. All with a single dismissive wave of his hand, a nonchalant grunt in response to a statement I make, or a stony stare when he disagrees with me.

Sometimes in my head I scream at him and say, "DO YOU NOT LOVE? DO YOU NOT KNOW HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL, HOW YOU MAKE ME FEEL WORTHLESS? DO YOU EVEN CARE AT ALL?"

And yet, even in my head, he responds with a silent, emotionless stare, and it is in those moments I understand my mother's silence. Perhaps it is easier to simply accept his rebuke, than to do anything about it.

Sometimes only silence can answer silence.

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Mare challenged me with "I hate that he tells me how much he thinks I'm worth and I really hate that I listen to him" and I challenged Kurt with "I want to thrive, not just survive".

Nice Guys Are Jerks, And You Didn't Even Notice

2011-11-07T16:11:00.001+05:30

Most of you are familiar with the phrase "Nice guys finish last", just as you are probably familiar with every other romantic comedy that tries to modify this phrase to "Yes, nice guys finish last, but they also get the girl somehow". In fact, there's a good chance that you also think you are the 'nice guy'.

Sadly, no one spends much time on the fact that nice guys are jerks.

See, nice guys have been having it easy for ages, thanks in part to mainstream media and their victimisation of them. They're used to glowing recommendations, great testimonials and a sort of "rules are just guidelines" approach to pretty much everything. They're used to being liked, and they are used to getting their way, because no one likes to be mean to the nice guy. That would make you the bully, and nobody wants to be that person. No, no matter how 'badass' we pretend to be, we all tell ourselves that inside, we're really nice guys too, just like him. So we smile, and oblige, and we return his niceness with our own.

However, our 'humanity' has also given nice guys a sense of accidental entitlement and power. When you are constantly treated well and when favours are done for you without hesitation, it's only natural that these acts start to lose value in the eyes of the nice guys. Exceptions soon become the norm, and almost their right, and the nice guys are blissfully unaware of this because everyone is still being nice to them. A 'one-time' exception becomes an everyday rule, which leads to the nice guy getting preferential treatment, which naturally will lead to problems. For example, the nice guy asks you to do his coursework this 'one-time' because it's difficult, and then the next time too because he's not got it yet, and soon it's all the time because you never made a fuss about it.

Now don't get me wrong; the nice guys aren't using you. They don't have some agenda where they befriend people and trick them with their charm or innocence. No, nice guys are worse, because they do it unintentionally. In fact, every time you do this favour for him, he will thank you profusely for doing it. And he'll mean it too; after all, he's a nice guy. But by not challenging him, or trying to equal his 'niceness', we're in fact opening ourselves to being unintentionally exploited.

Another area nice guys aren't adept in is the handling of hostile situations. You see, over the years, they grow up without learning certain key aspects of life, especially when it comes to dealing with people. Nice guys aren't usually disliked, or even argued with, and that robs them of the ability to handle confrontation. Now, there are various ways in which these nice guys can react.

Some get hostile in return: "how dare these people act tough with me?? Can't they see I'm a nice guy??"

This reaction usually goes down poorly with his peers, to say the least, mainly because they aren't used to seeing this side of the nice guy. While most of us are used to dealing with bullies and unreasonable idiots in our place of work or study, the nice guys are just incapable of handling the situation. The thick skin, the ability to let things slide; none of these exist for the nice guy, leaving him a frustrated and indignant individual who will rant and complain to anyone who will lend an ear.

Others get trampled on: "Oh me. Oh my. He was unspeakably rude to me. I must have deserved it, so I'll just sit and take this."

This is rather sad to see, because while we all go through situations where we need to bite our tongue and ride out the storm, the nice guys break down and beat themselves up about it, acting like they're the ones to blame for this situation, and generally being all mopey about it. It's not pretty.

So, what is the solution to this? I have no idea; I've just been observing the trends in my own circles over the last few years, and I'm quite certain the theory stands. So while this is by no means an attempt to paint the nice, upstanding, honest individuals out there as duplicitous, selfish and devious, perhaps the next time a 'nice guy' asks you for something, tell yourself you're doing him a favour by saying "No".

Models & Music: Playing For The "En Vous" Fashion Show

2011-10-25T16:20:00.000+05:30

Even though my 'headless videos' only make a rare appearance on the blog these days, I assure you that my piano playing ways remain intact. Which is why I was glad to be asked to sing at a friend's fashion show in Kandy a couple of weeks ago. She was looking for some acoustic-type live music to be played between sets while the models changed outfits, and I was more than willing to do it for her. So I worked out a few songs with my brother and a friend on guitar, and the results are below.

Thanks to A for recording the videos; unfortunately the sound isn't too great since the camera seems to have been right next to a speaker.

Kings of Leon - Use Somebody

Adele - Rolling In The Deep

Switchfoot - Always

As for the show itself, I must say it went really well. It was titled "En Vous", and featured some original designs by my friend for swimwear, casuals, evening and an especially nice linen collection. However it wasn't just the collection that was high class; the venue was extremely well done as well, with the runway being set up on the pool.

I know what you're thinking, and no; none of the models fell into the pool, despite how unsteady it seemed to be to walk on. Though come to think of it, how awesome would it have been having the models 'surface' from the pool itself wearing the swimwear collection? Perhaps a suggestion for another time.

All in all it was a grand success, and I was lucky enough to meet a few people who were interested in our 'services' for future events. I sincerely hope I handled those conversations well, despite not having a smooth enough reply for when people asked me for my card. Luckily Kandy is a small town, and when I mentioned my name, most people simply asked if I was my father's son, and after replying in the affirmative, they said they'd get in touch with him for my details. Perhaps I should make him my manager.

Either way, the Darkside is definitely in the market for more low-key sideshow musical attractions! If nothing else, it'll serve to be a welcome distraction from my mundane work life. Thank you all for the positive and constructive comments made on all my uploads, I probably wouldn't have had the nerve, nor would I have been heard of, to do stuff like this without them.

PS: I managed a sneak peak into the world of modelling at the show. Await a post on that soon..

Sleepless Nights, Restless Days

2011-10-18T23:51:00.002+05:30

It's a warm night, and I had no trouble getting out of bed to dig out my laptop and type this. My attempts at sleep were futile anyway.

I have lately been filled with a sense of uneasiness and want. Work has not held my interest, and even though I have some big deadlines to meet there is a distinct lack of motivation. I've been here almost 2 years now, and even though I've learned a lot and come a long way in that time, I'm starting to feel extremely cramped.

Working outstation isn't easy, but I used to enjoy it. I had nothing to look forward to in Kandy except unlimited internet and Mom's cooking, yet I could survive without them for 5 days a week without trouble. Besides, I liked the seclusion, and the mystery almost of our workplace and its surroundings. There was never a shortage of entertainment; my co-workers were notorious 'party animals', though more in the 'drinking and singing' sense than the 'loud music and dancing' sense. Despite my perpetual sobriety, I proved to be a worthy companion (at least according to them), and I didn't mind watching my friends make idiots of themselves while repeatedly asking me to sing to them. Also, the constant supply of 'interns' and 'trainees' to our plant meant we always had new characters to show the ropes to, as well as entertain. It was a good time.

And yet now, things no longer hold the same appeal to me. I am constantly bored, uninterested in colleague's endeavors, disillusioned with my field of work and unoptimistic of my chances of progressing in this line. The seclusion I once found refreshing is now almost a suffocating, and the hours spent in the gym no longer seem like an appealing way to spend the evenings.

I am bored, and strangely lonely. The loneliness is troubling, considering I have good people around me almost every day. I find myself looking for distractions while I'm alone, no longer relishing the freedom of having my time to myself. Waking up in the morning is a horrible process of opening my eyes and willing myself to roll out of bed to make it to work instead of calling in sick.

Dark days, and sleepless nights are upon me. But it's those sleepless nights that have always been the sign for change in my life. Like omens, the tossing and turning into the early hours of morning have always preceded great victories or accomplishments, or drastic change in my life.

So as I toss and turn and wrestle my wandering mind at night, I pray for change, for victory, and for the next phase.

"Every Conversation Begins With A Lie" | Indie Ink Writing Challenge

2011-10-14T00:30:00.000+05:30

In the bar by ~onesummerago

"Hi, is this seat taken?"

He looked up from the menu he had be staring at the last 15 minutes, a little surprised to be shaken out of his daze.

"I'm sorry.. Yes. No, I mean.. I'm just.. it's free, yes."

The girl laughed, a small quick release, as if he had said the wittiest thing she'd heard all night. Given the state of the bar they were in though, and it's patrons, it may have been. The poor lighting made it difficult for him to accurately distinguish her features, but from what he could tell she was about his height, his age, a little over-dressed and definitely over-perfumed. Her dark hair was tied up in what may or may not have been a fashionable way - he never knew anything about these things.

She sat down gently, as if the booth's seat might let go at any minute, and stretched a well-ringed hand towards him.

"Hi, my name is Carla."

He took it, timidly, and replied; "You already said 'hi'."

"What's that?", she said, her face suddenly going blank.

"You.. you said 'hi', twice. I was just.. my name is John."

"Hi! Nice to meet you John!"

She continued smiling, waiting for him to continue the conversation. He declined.

"Where you from, John?", she blurted out, unperturbed.

"Around. Excuse me, but I'd like to be left alone. I'm waiting for my - I'm waiting for my wife.."

She laughed again, an elaborate gesture involving her entire upper body, that was still somehow devoid of real volume. It clashed completely with the stiff, staccato tone that John had just used.

"Oh c'mon, John, you're way too young to be married, surely! Besides, you've been waiting here a while, am-I-right?"

She smiled again. She smiled a lot.

"She's a little late, perhaps..", he offered weakly, glancing at his watch.

"No way, John, you're a bad liar." She suddenly leaned forward and took his hand before he could react. "Besides, no ring!".

She leaned back, looking pleased at her deductive skills. His silence simply confirmed her assumptions, and she smiled. Wider.

He sighed, a deep and tired sigh, and didn't respond.

"It's okay sweety, I understand. Some stranger sits in your booth with you, and you don't know what to think, right?", she said, in a patronizing tone.

"Sorry."

She put her hands up and said, "Oh don't be! The world is a crazy place, I don't blame you. " More smiles, more gesticulating. He tried to go back to reading his menu.

"How about we start again? Hi! My name is Carla, I like a good time, and you're name is John, and you like being all blue and.. -"

"My wife died", he said suddenly, numbly.

The transformation was almost instantaneous. Carla suddenly became serious, the rest of her playful ramble snatched out of her lips. First he saw surprise, and then perhaps the flicker of deep sorrow and sympathy flit across her face.

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I mean, I ..."

"It's okay. Car accident. Two months ago today."

This time there was definitely sympathy, as Carla leaned back in her seat without saying a word, her hand involuntarily touching her mouth. She looked around the bar now, for the first time unsure of herself. It was almost empty, with a few stubborn patrons semi-conscious on the counter, staring into space. She looked back at him, attempted to say something, but words failed her.

She reached her hand towards his, and was about to say something when a voice suddenly yelled out from behind the bar; "Lisa!"

A large, burly man had just stepped in from the back entrance and was walking towards their booth.

"Lisa, goddam it, how many times do I have to throw you out of this place??", he bellowed, moving quickly for such a large man.

It was now Carla's turn to look down at her menu, trying to blend in to the furniture, but the large man walked straight up to her, rudely pulling her up by her elbow and pushing her towards the door. She struggled and tried to protest

"Man, I'm just talking to this guy..!"

But he was having nothing of it;

"Oh don't even try, I've heard enough of your stories! Now get out! And tell that pimp of yours I'll take care of him permanently if I see you or any of his other little toys here again!"

And just like that she was gone. The man, presumably the bartender, turned and slowly returned to the booth, looking back at the door as if to make sure she wouldn't return. He then turned, and looked down at John, whose eyes barely left the menu.

"It's late.", he said gently. John didn't budge.

He rolled his eyes, muttered to himself before reaching down to take the menu out of John's hands.

"Go home, your wife must be worried about you. You know how she gets, and she's just going to call this place any minute now. As usual."

John's shoulders dropped a little, but remained seated.

"Dammit, you have a kid on the way, you shouldn't be out here drinking like this every night. Go home, okay?"

Still nothing, not a word. The disgruntled bartender finally says firmly, "Jacob! Go home! NOW!"

The man stirs, finally, and slowly gets out of the booth. He looks up at the stern expression on the bartenders face, but finding no sympathy there, he slowly makes his way to the door, one unsteady step at a time, and leaves.

This week's Indie Ink Challenge came from Jamelah, who gave me this prompt: A conversation beings with a lie -- Adrienne Rich "Cartographies of Silence". I challenged Andrea with the prompt : A lot of movies these days have an extra scene after the credits roll; a little twist to leave the viewers with - write a scene that would occur after the final chapter of a popular fairy tale or children's story.

This Is Not A Steve Jobs Tribute Post

2011-10-07T16:52:00.001+05:30

By now I'm pretty sure you are aware of the passing of Steve Jobs. I'm also pretty sure you found out of his passing via some Facebook post mourning his death. The adulation that Jobs has received in the last 24 hours has been unmatched in recent past, and is perhaps eclipsed only by the death of Michael Jackson.

The tributes have been moving, emotional, personal and somewhat unanimous in their message: "Steve Jobs changed my life, and he was the most inspirational and motivational person I knew".

I too was sad at the news; the man was iconic, and his views on design and technology were unique. Either way, it's always sad to hear of the death of a person well before his or her time. I had no idea his cancer was at such a terminal stage; in fact, I'm sure most people did not, which just added to the shock of the news.

While people continue to debate his contribution to the world, I spent time on another line of thought. I admire Steve Jobs' vision and his technological advancements, yet I cannot claim that he was someone who inspired or motivated me personally. I have been influenced by many people, and I continue to be influenced today by the amazing and unique people in my life, yet the only people I would elevate to such a status would be my parents.

Yes, perhaps it's cliche to say that, but be that as it may, it is also very true. My father and mother have been through a lot, raising me, because I wasn't an easy kid to raise. I have often rebelled, thought of leaving home and running away (ah that familiar teenage fantasy), yet somehow I have arrived where I am today - hanging up the phone after talking to my Mom, laughing and joking and just messing around.

My father and I do not share such a vocal relationship, yet our bond has been tested by fire over the years, through trying and gut-wrenching experiences. While I once used to ignore his opinions and advice, now I won't do anything if it meets with even the faintest whisper of disapproval from him.

(now the hard part)

When the day comes when they pass away, I know that I will have reached that point solely because of the values they instilled in me, and the expectations they had of me. My family is by no means a regular, 'normal' family. We don't hug things out or sit down and discuss life lessons with each other when we're going through tough times. Yet somehow, these two people have spent half their lives raising and nurturing me, the best way they could.

As I watch the moving images of people paying tribute to Steve Jobs, candles, testimonials, tweets, FB updates and all, I have to say that I cannot identify with the emotions. "Inspirational"? "Motivational"? I can't think of any celebrity, let alone Steve Jobs, that I would feel that way about. For me, at least, that place is reserved for my family only.

Fastbreak

2011-10-04T15:53:00.003+05:30

I miss running a fastbreak.

I miss that instant when you switch from defense to offense; that sudden burst of power that rushes through your body when you know the opponent has missed and you break for the opposite basket.

I miss that adrenaline rush when you realise that you have numbers, when it's a 2-on-1 or 3-on-2. Like sharks reacting to blood in the water.

I miss that feeling of cold calculation as you decide how to break down the defense; whether to pass to the open man, or to take it strong to the hoop. I miss watching the defenders frantically scamper to even the odds, but to no avail.

I miss the sound of the net, whipping the ball as it falls through.

I miss back-pedalling to defense, staring into the eyes of the opponents and saying, "You're turn".

Man I miss basketball. And I'm not just talking about watching it (damn you David Stern, end the lockout!); I miss experiencing it.

Because playing basketball was more than just a game, it was an experience.

Captain America: The Worst Avenger

2011-10-03T10:22:00.000+05:30

Last weekend was movie night, and the choice was between "Cowboys & Aliens From the Makers of Iron Man" (or something) and "Captain America: The First Avenger But The Last Avenger To Get A Movie". We had heard identical reviews regarding both movies, so we decided to let IMDB.com decide for us. Lo and behold, Cap' got a very respectable 7.2 while Cowboys & Aliens had a 6.5.

I had seen the trailers for the movie, and while I wasn't exactly fluent with the 'Captain America' storyline, I knew enough to get by. Basically this was going to be the last big blockbuster movie before they made the 'Avengers' movie which is scheduled for next year, and I was eager for what I was told would be a slightly 'different' superhero movie, since this would be set back in the late 1930's. Plus, Captain America is supposed to be the big daddy-O of the Avengers, the Superman of the Marvel Universe.

That being said, I haven't seen a good Superman movie since - well I've never seen a good Superman movie. I guess that in itself should have been warning enough.

Let's just say the first quarter of the movie was spent marveling at the technology we have at hand these days, technology that is able to make Chris Evans look like a scrawny 5'0" do-gooder that is thoroughly deserving of being beaten up by bullies. Set during WWII, the movie starts of with Agent Smith (Hugo Weaving) being a total badass in some Polish church, in order to retrieve some mythical and magical cube that seems completely out of place in the year 1930. Cut to Steve Rogers, a diminutive little dwarf that is frustrated that he can't seem to clear any medical exam that will allow him to enlist in the army. Such is his desire to get killed for his country that he attracts the attention of Stanly Tucci, who plays Dr. Abraham Erskine (quite easily the most memorable character in the movie). Stanley Tucci plays his part to perfection, as always, and I was sad that he didn't have a larger role in the movie.

It's every nerds dream!

Moving swiftly along (and without giving too much away), Steve Rogers is miraculously turned into Captain America (i.e., Chris Evans in all his chiseled glory) and is promptly hit upon by Hayley Atwell, who plays Peggy Carter - a rather stern and serious looking agent for the secret army wing responsible for the Captain America project. Cue the awkward romance, the whole "I'm not used to being a Greek god so I don't know how to behave around women" charade, followed by the "Oh I'm not interested in your bulging biceps and pulsing pectorals, I'm drawn to the only remnants of your crippled former self, i.e. your heart, which just so happens to be invisible to the human eye and therefore tolerable". Needless to say, it was terribly awkward, and seemed more suited for some high school chick flick rather than (supposedly) the mother of all Marvel superhero movies.

"Why, Captain.. what a big - err - heart you have!"

I don't want to give too much away of the story, but I will say this - it was not very good. While there were some humorous moments, and some very nice action sequences, the rest of the movie seemed completely at odds with each other. The level of technology that the Germans secretly possessed was just totally out of sync with the setting, and even if this was the original story based in the comics, I feel that it's one thing to read about it in a comic book and something totally different to see it on the big screen.

To conclude, the latter part of the movie was spent predicting how the cliched story lines would end, down to the dialogues (T is my witness - I called it out flawlessly) and the ending. The final fight sequence was terrible, but the ending showed promise. However, the dialogue towards the grand finale was so pathetically stale that it robbed whatever plus points the ending would have given the movie.

As usual, there was a short scene at the end relating to the 'Avengers' movie, with Samuel L. Jackson making yet another 2 minute appearance in a movie (when is he going to get to act in an actual full length movie again?).

"I KNOW you didn't call me all the way here to wear this eye patch AGAIN for ANOTHER TWO MINUTE SHOOT..!"

I was so disappointed with this movie, even more than I was with Green Lantern (which I shall review later), and I'm baffled as to how it garnered a 7.2 rating on IMDB.com. Honestly, this should have been in the 5-5.9 range, and nothing more. Chris Evans does his best, but perhaps the Captain America mythology doesn't give the writers or the actors much to work with in terms of making it 'cool' and relatable.

Let's just say I'll be rooting for Thor next year when 'Avengers' comes out. Him and Scarlett Johanssen of course.

The Internet Is Why We Can't Cure Cancer

2011-09-29T14:52:00.001+05:30

I would just like to take this moment to reflect on the greatness of the human species.

Seriously, just sit up and give yourself a little pat on the back. Well done; and by the way, did you know you are only one of 9 species in the world that can do that^*1?

I mean, let's face it; we're pretty awesome, no matter what you're religious/non-religious leanings. Creationist? Yep, we were hand-made by God himself in His image! Darwinist? Yep, we fought our way right to the top of the food chain against ridiculous odds! Science-Fictionist? Yep, we're the descendants of a super evolved alien race whose world got destroyed by a meteor^*2! Scientologist? Yep, Tom Cruise = winning!^*3

However, we're not all cut from the same cookie cutter. While man has always been rewarded for hard work and dedication, there are some who are unaware of this simple premise. No, this new generation is the instant-coffee generation, who believe that cappuccino grows in little sachets, along with tea and Milo. They believe Macaroni comes from Kraft, that text messages can be labelled as 'documentation', and that the 'work' in 'homework' is the exercise ones fingers get form copying and pasting text off Google.

So I supposed it should come as no surprise that the latest 'innovative' way to solve our problems and save the world is Facebook.

I'm sure all of you have noticed this by now; women posting bizarre status messages that have mild sexual connotations. This phenomenon was rampant on Facebook for a while before people realised that it was actually some secret 'code' spread among the womenfolk to create awareness for breast cancer.

Seriously. This is how we're going to beat breast cancer.

Not only are these messages mildly annoying, they serve absolutely no purpose at all. And it's not like they stopped there; no, now it's moved onto child abuse as well. Apparently by changing my profile picture to a cartoon I enjoyed as a child, I'm helping spread the message. Yes, nothing says "stop abusing children!" like a picture of Voltron or Cheetara.

"Save the children!"

"Yeah, save the children!!"

Clearly, something has gone wrong somewhere. With the vast array of technology now at our disposal, how is it that we can't come up with a more interesting and engaging campaign for such a serious issue? Is it true that Google and the internet have made us dumber? So much so that our creativity and vision is now limited to what we can 'share' on a social network?

Perhaps I'm making a big deal about nothing, but it's the small issues like this that are indicative of our broader thinking. I see similar trends in technology as well - nowadays everybody wants a smartphone, and there are a multitude to choose from. While there are Apple fans, and Android nerds, and Windows Phone 7 fans, somehow I still feel that innovation has come to a standstill. Phones keep upping their specs, putting more horsepower under their hoods than really trying to improve the user experience. Today it's a 4.2 inch 1Ghz phone, tomorrow it's 4.3 inches and 1.4GHz, then it's 4.6 inches and a dual-core 1.2GHz, and next month it'll be a 5.3 inch monster that is so big you can't really consider it a phone anymore. The same goes for computing; we design software and code that is so elaborate and inefficient we need mad systems to even run them (I'm looking at you, Rockstar and you're ridiculous GTA IV engine!).

True, these are just isolated incidents and yet I can't help but feel this is a trend that is prevalent in a lot more areas if we stop and look. Yes, we've made it this far, but it looks like unless we get back to the root thinking that got us here in the first place, we may not go much further.

^*1 - Fake statistic. Sorry
^*2 - Yes, I basically stole the plot from "Mission To Mars". Sue me.
^*3 - This link is pretty much self-explanatory.

Driving Me Insane: Why Driving In Sri Lanka Is Crazy

2011-09-14T12:56:00.000+05:30

I love driving. Always have, and I was surprised when I met some people who actually said they didn't enjoy it. I still remember when I turned 18, one of the first things I did was to ask Dad to teach me to drive. Fairy tale that this isn't, he said 'no'.

Needless to say, I was crushed. But soon he relented and sent me for driving lessons, which basically involved cramping myself into the drivers seat of those tiny mini-vans, and cruising around the lake at no greater than 40kmph. It was hopelessly monotonous; I was more likely to die from boredom than anything vehicle related, with the only 'excitement' so to speak coming from reversing into a lane that was wide enough to accommodate a small house.

(Oh did I mention my instructor was a one eyed, one legged man who had driven cabs in Germany? I kid you not; how he managed to convince anyone that he was able to teach people to drive with a wooden leg and a glass eye, God only knows.)

Long story short - I got my license, and soon I was driving. Within minutes, I discovered that nothing I learned during my so-called 'lessons' was of any use to me in the real world! Buses hurtling towards you, reckless overtaking, annoying three-wheelers, psychotic motor bikes - where were they during my tranquil rides around the Kandy lake?! And who is teaching these maniacs to drive??

So , in the interests of keeping our future generations alive just a little longer, I have listed out four things we need to teach all drivers from now on, regardless of vehicle type.

1. Bus drivers - you are not driving a Ferrari.

Somehow, bus drivers around the country are under the impression that their extremely large mode of transport is actually a small, sprightly two-seater sports car, complete with sharp cornering and precise steering. This is unfortunate, because you and I know that this is far from the truth. Yet, bus drivers around the country can be seen boldly throwing their vehicles around corners, wrestling them around other vehicles while barrelling down against the oncoming traffic, confident that their bus can somehow zip back in front before destroying the panic stricken driver headed its way.

Clearly, this needs to stop.We can't have these lumbering machines flying along our already too-narrow roads when they should be sanely chugging along in their lanes. The problem is, a bus driver, no matter how delusional and wrong, is still driving a bus! Which means it takes some guts to actually try to start something with a bus that's hurtling towards you like some metal meteor.

My solution consists of two parts. First, we train bus drivers in mini vans, around the Kandy lake, preferably with a one eyed instructor with a wooden leg. Mislead them into thinking that all buses need to be driven like this dinky 800cc Daihatsu. Brain wash them into thinking the speed limit is 39kmph. I guarantee those puppies will not only be more sane, they'll reduce the highway death toll ten fold. Part two, should part one fail? Counselling. Clearly, bus drivers are nothing more than frustrated children in adult bodies, acting out every males youthful fantasy of being able to speed in a high powered vehicle for a living. Heck, if I were a bus driver, I'd probably take refuge in that delusion too. So why not indulge them, and offer a weekly drive in a supercar around a local race track, free of cost, so they can get all their frustration out once and for all.

2. Three wheel drivers - you can't overtake on the left.

What is up with these three-wheelers? Who taught them that overtaking on the left is 'the right thing to do'? It's bad enough that driving in traffic is stressful and dangerous; now we have these multi-coloured fairies trying to mount the pavement and pass us on the left!

Dear Tuk-tuk - it can only end badly for you

It can't be just an evolved art though, because these guys have got it down to a science. First, they keep within striking distance of your vehicle, waiting for the next road block, traffic light, or any sort of blockage in the traffic. As soon as the vehicle in front starts slowing down, you can see them slowly creep towards the rear left of the vehicle. Now, given most people's impatience in these situations, the odds are that the vehicle in front will try to inch to the right, to have a peek down the road to see what's the hold up, and whether he/she can overtake. This is the three-wheel drivers moment to strike. They deftly squeeze their little death-trap on wheels into that tiny space you've so generously opened up, and as the traffic starts moving suddenly you find yourself stuck in no man's land. Your only options are to a) let him pass so you can slip behind me or b) be hung out to dry in oncoming traffic. [Option c) is to 'pull a GTA on him and ram the little maggot', but I'd never endorse that.]

Solution? Believe it or not, it's actually 'patience'. Whenever I notice one of these guys trying to pull this stunt I make sure I never give up my position behind the vehicle in front of me. If they do try to squeeze by you, never let them rejoin the line. Just stick bumper-to-bumper with the vehicle in front and watch them spaz out at you for driving legally. Totally worth it.

3. Those white lines on the road mean something.

I cannot count the number of times I have driven down a two- or three-lane road, watching the vehicle in front of me veer between lanes like it's part of some weird form of vehicular 'Pong'. Did they really think the lines painted on the road were for decorative purposes?! The two most annoying instances of this is when you're travelling quickly on the main roads, only to find that the vehicle in front of you on the right-most lane, (which is usually where the quicker vehicles travel,) is crawling. This means either you stick behind it, or switch to the next lane and get stuck behind another slow vehicle. This makes no sense to me; if you're travelling so slowly, why not just move over and let the quicker vehicles pass? But no, we're forced to pretend we're in some sort of moving maze, dodging from lane to lane to get ahead. Then of course there are those that blindly drive between both lanes, which leads drivers behind them to also break out of formation, and soon you have a disorganised mass of vehicles jostling for position on the highway.

Seriously people; the lines on the ground! Look at them!! How hard can it be to figure out what speed you want to travel at, and stick to the appropriate lane? Of course, this is something that isn't really taught in driving school here since instructors rarely, if ever, take their pupils on an actual highway to teach them these simple basics. "The highway?", they tell themselves; "Why would they ever drive on those?".

Idiots.

4. Dip your damn lights!

Driving during the day is dangerous in Sri Lanka. Driving at night is near suicidal.

Thanks to the poorly lit streets and 'highways' in the country, I can understand why people would want to use their head beams to illuminate as much of the road ahead as possible. However, doing so at the cost of the oncoming driver's eyesight is - to put it mildly - a tad insensitive.

It's bad enough that we have to contend with a) near invisible pot holes b) random pedestrians jumping on the road at the last minute and c) black dogs/cows/elephants that are invisible to the human eye at night (I swear, it's almost like they absorb light) while driving; how in the world are we supposed to drive at all when you have your lights in my eyes?? You see me flashing my headlights at you?? That isn't some friendly signal!! Take the hint and dip 'em!

I envy my dad's vehicle; he's installed super powerful fog lights on it expressly for these kind of drivers. Any time he sees an oncoming vehicle that fails to comply to these unwritten courtesies, he 'gives him a dose of his own medicine' and powers them up. Trust me, if you get caught in those you'd probably think it was the second coming and you were being raptured.

So there you have it; the top four that I could come up with. Feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments. Meanwhile, drive safely!

21 Questions, And No Right Answers

2011-09-05T21:59:00.000+05:30

Faded memories by ~velar1

Isn’t itfun to turn back the pages of a photo album, or, as is more apt in this digitalage, to go through old Facebook pictures from years past? We laugh at the ridiculous hair-styles, theawful clothes, the old hangout you used to love and now cannot stand, the oldfriends we used to love and now too cannot stand. The inexorablepassing of time is evident all around us, is it not?

I amforever looking back at my life, perhaps because I am fascinated with how Ihave made it this far. Believe me when I say, I have come a long way from myyounger years, and considering that I am hardly anyone of even minutesignificance right now, this speaks a lot about the sort of person I was longago.

Yet, asmuch as we’d like to pretend otherwise, that person in the picture really isus. Perhaps not as mature, perhaps not as hurt, perhaps not as happy or as sad;but nevertheless that person is still you. Or is it?

Indulgeme for a minute, and pretend that we’re in a Michael Crichton novel, one wherewe are able to bend the fabric of time so to speak. Imagine if we couldtransport ourselves, and our consciousness, back into our younger selves.

What theheck would we do?

Wouldyou really say that thing that got you beaten up in school? Would you reallylike that girl? And if so, would you really write that note to her and pass itin that totally un-subtle way?

Would you let your parents still yell at you, even though you now know better? Would you ignore yourbrother or sister the same way you used to, knowing he/she would return the favour soon? Would youhave told him or her that you loved them, if you knew how much harder it would be to say that in the future?

Would you side with your father or your mother duringthat divorce?

Wouldyou choose those subjects, and in effect, that career line? Would you have put your foot down and said ‘no’ to your parents’desire to keep you close to home, or would you have silently been led likeyou were then? Would you kiss that girl, at that time, or would you have waitedjust those 5 minutes more, in time for the moon to come out and make it thatmore perfect? Would you have kissed her at all, if you knew how it turned out?

title and registration. by~RAWR-ima-Dinoroar

Wouldyou have tried so hard to be liked, if you knew that nothing you did would begood enough? Would you have let the memories fade faster, if you knew that you wouldbe forgotten first? Would you have made the same mistakes, even though you knowthat the pain is what made you who you are? Would you have willingly sufferedagain, just because you told yourself that it was ‘necessary’? What if youdecided it wasn’t?

Howdifferent would those old pictures look now? How many of those memories wouldbe wiped away, to be replaced by new ones, and maybe a new you? What if wenever became who we are today?

Who arewe, really, today?

Indie Ink: Faking A Smile

2011-08-25T08:41:00.000+05:30

The clock ticks on, yet sleep eludes her still.

She doesn't toss or turn though, choosing instead to stare fixedly at the luminous second hand of her alarm clock. The steady staccato 'tick' of each passing second fails to lull her to sleep, and with each minute, and hour, she grows more convinced that she will lie like this till morning.

She forces her eyes closed one more time, forcing her tired brain to dream, yet like a blank slate it remains bare, waiting for someone to touch it in a way it will understand.

And she knows who that someone is.

She smiles, as she thinks of him. His lively, light brown eyes, and his laugh; the loud one when among friends, and the softer, more personal chuckle he reserved only for when they were alone together. She imagines his strong arms around her, carrying her away to distant and exotic locations. Anywhere would do, as long as he was there.

Suddenly, there's a sound at the door, and her eyes fly open as her dream evaporates in an instant. There's a pause, and heavy footsteps slowly enter the room. Her body involuntarily tenses, waiting, apprehensive.

"Are you awake?", a slurred voice says to her from the direction of the door.

She turns over, slowly, feigning sleepiness.

"Yes, yes I am ", she replies, softly.

"Good. What are you doing?"

"Dreaming. Of you..", she lies.

In the dim light, she can see a lopsided smile spread across his face.

"Good...", he drawls, slowly walking towards her, while taking off his clothes. His black, cold eyes light with a dull, ugly sparkle as he climbs into the bed with her.

She takes a quick breath, looks him dead in those eyes and smiles wide, a smile that is as warm as it is forced. He doesn't notice it either way. As for her, well; for yet another night, her hopes have abandoned her for reality, her memories of a better time deserting her when she needed them the most. Her dreams of 'him', lost in the sands of time, confined to her subconscious, never to be realised except in the waning hours of daylight.

And so, the clock ticks on, yet happiness eludes her still.

My second attempt at the Indie Ink Writing Challenge (for my other entry, click here). My challenge this week was simply "Faking A Smile", given to me by Joe Sanders. In turn, I challenged Jason Hughes with a rather complicated challenge of writing a 'tragic romance' that was centered around breakfast (don't ask!). You can see his response here.
I seem to have a thing about writing dramatic fiction centered around women. I'm sure someone will probably psychoanalyse me for that, but please don't bother. For this particular post I was inspired by Pearl Jam's "Better Man" as well. I hope you enjoy it!

How Pop Music Is Infiltrating Your Brain And Turning It Into Mush

2011-08-17T11:42:00.003+05:30

A couple days ago while browsing some music on Youtube with my brother, we stumbled across some songs which had been reversed for 'fun'. When he asked why anyone would do that, I explained the concept of back-masking to him. I was rather hazy on the details myself, so we went through this Wikipedia page. For those who want the summarized version - back-masking is a technique used in music where certain parts of a recording are recorded in reverse and then played forward. These recordings sound completely unintelligible and unique played forward, and only become coherent when they are played backwards. Back in the eighties and nineties, everyone got very worked up because some artists were using this technique to include some rather disturbing messages about Satan and drugs in their songs. My brother was especially shocked to hear that Led Zeppelin's "Stairway to Heaven" has been alleged to contain a pretty strange satanic message in it as well.

Now while a lot of this can be disputed, it's still a bit unsettling. I'm not entirely sure how much of it is authentic, but the thought that there were people out there trying to send secret messages into your brain was so enticing that the hype carried the story for over a decade. Fast forward to the 21st Century and we don't talk about 'subliminal messages' anymore unless the person doing it is bald and in a wheelchair.

"Your iPhone is not tracking you. I repeat, your iPhone is NOT.."

But then, the music we listen to these days is far more damaging and deceitful than some random backwards balderdash about worshipping Satan. No, those Satanists from back in the day have all retired, knowing full well that when it comes to subliminal messages and deceiving listeners, modern day pop music is in a class of its own.

Given below are three of the most ridiculous songs that we didn't know were ridiculous till we actually listened to the song.

No.3 : Kelly Rowland - Motivation

When I first heard this tune it was already no.1 on the Billboard R&B charts. On the surface the track seems like a very sexy, smooth R&B song by the very talented (and often under-rated) Kelly Rowland, and that was that. Then there's the very distracting video, reminding us that Beyonce wasn't the only member of Destiny's Child that had that 'oomph' factor.

But have you really listened to the song? The sexual connotations are blatantly obvious, unlike other raunchy tracks where the double meanings are all somewhat implied rather than really laid out in front of you. But in 'Motivation', Kelly isn't really giving us any where else to look is she? She's as subtle as a peaceful protest involving arson, vandalism and looting (too soon?).

Oh lover, don’t you dare slow down
Go longer, you can last more rounds
Push harder, you're almost there now
So go lover, make mama proud

Yeah. So she's just being very encouraging, and supportive, because obviously her man is some form of long distance track and field athlete, desperately 'pushing harder' and 'going longer' so he can 'last more rounds'. Or not.

Look I get that most hip hop and R&B songs are about sex, but at least they are done somewhat tastefully, or at least attempt to use some tongue-in-cheek in their lyrics. But even Li'l Wayne can't save this song:

Uh, girl I turn that thing into a rainforest

Rain on my head, call that brainstorming

Yeah, you tell her Wayne. Just hope you don't fall in love with an orangutan in there.

(If you got that reference without clicking the link, you win a 1000 internets.)

No. 2 : Nicole Scherzingerburger - Right There

Nicole Scherzinger isn't your average pop diva, though I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps being part of the Pussycat Dolls who so blatantly flaunted their sex appeal to compensate for a marked lack of talent helped, or perhaps being surrounded by such mediocre group members made her look decidedly above average in comparison.

Still, the girl has a voice. She seems intelligent (she's dating Lewis Hamilton, someone who, you would think, wouldn't date an air-head). You would assume this would be an advantage, but no; in the music industry, you have to be a attractive and appear stupid. So it stands to reason her big hit is a song in which she sounds like a bit of an idiot.

I have no idea what 'accent' (if you call it that) she's adopted for this song, nor do I know why she's aspiring to sound like Rihanna, a native of Barbados and the owner of the most successful nasal voice in the industry. But no, despite the catchy beats and tune, Nicole somehow manages to sound utterly ridiculous.

Exhibit A:

Come here baby and be my baby

And be my baby oh oh oh

Come here baby put your hands on my body

Hands on my body oh oh oh

Right there keep it right there

I love when you put it right there oh oh oh

Yeah yeah oh oh oh

Yeah

Yeah. Oh oh. Oh. Oh oh yeah. Oh. Yeah. Probably some satanic message encrypted in that.

But it gets better.

Exhibit B:

No you never gonna let no girl take him from me
Never gonna let no girl steal him from me
Never gonna let a girl get that close now
I tell 'em eh eh you're too close now

Sounds rather un-ladylike, don't you think? "Eh! Eh!! EH!! You're too close now okay?? Back off!! He miiiine...!"

And then the pièce de résistance:

I like the way that you talk dirty
Don't wash your mouth out I like it dirty

I can't, I just - I can't take it. I give up. No wonder Nicole shakes her booty every 20 seconds in her video, it's to distract from the lyrics her song.

No.1 : Katy Perry - E.T.

There are some songs that are so memorable, you can relate the very first time you heard it play. I first heard Incubus' "Drive" in 2001 January on local radio. I loved it, I couldn't wait to hear it again. I first heard Santana's "Smooth" on the World Chart Show while in my bedroom. I couldn't believe that guy was from Matchbox Twenty, and I couldn't believe my dad knew who Santana was. I first heard Katy Perry's "E.T." while driving to Colombo. I almost drove my car into the back of a truck while staring at my radio in disbelief.

The fact that this song climbed all the way to no.1 on the Billboard charts (and stayed there for 5 weeks) has almost shattered my faith in the charts completely. The only plausible explanation for why Katy Perry would write about her alien fetish is if in fact she didn't write it. Perhaps it was a joke song that her comic hubby Russell Brand wrote for some stand-up gig he was doing, only the wifey found it in his drawers and decided that it was perfect to showcase her 'range' and 'musical variety'.

Here's a sample:

They say, be afraid
You're not like the others
Futuristic lover
Different DNA
They don't understand you

According to the interwebs, the song is supposedly about 'falling in love with a foreigner'. No doubt, if all Americans feel this way about foreigners and treat them accordingly, this would explain why half the world is (or was) trying to nuke them.

Bring on the chorus!

Kiss me, kiss me
Infect me with your love and
Fill me with your poison

Take me, take me
Wanna be a victim
Ready for abduction

Boy, you're an alien
Your touch so foreign
It's supernatural
Extraterrestrial

Who wouldn't want to sing along to that?

Oh there's more:

I wanna walk on your wave length
And be there when you vibrate
For you I'll risk it all
All

You hear that? "All". Just to be there when you 'vibrate'. Because her man is a cell phone.

But my favourite part has to be this:

You're so supersonic
Wanna feel your powers
Stun me with your lasers

STUN ME WITH YOUR LASERS?! I guess in Katy Perry's candy-land world, the act of making love involves her shooting whipped cream out of her boobs till he 'laser-stuns' her into exploding fireworks.

Step 1: Initiate contact

"Beep-boop-beep-boop-beeeeeep!"

Mission complete. Return to star base.

Any other songs that I may have missed? Feel free to add them in the comments below!

The Darkside Does Malaysia: Part 3

2011-08-08T09:30:00.000+05:30

Wow, I'm really stretching this out aren't I? Well this is the last one, I promise!

Day 4

Day 4 was our big day: the day we head out to the Pinnacles. As I explained earlier, the whole trek is about 3 days up and down, so today we were planning on reaching the base camp by evening and resting for the climb the next day. Our journey started from the Reserve HQ, where we were all bundled into these small boats. They were similar to catamarans, except without the outrider. They were long and could only carry about 5-6 people if they sat one behind the other. The famous rainforest rains had struck that morning, forcing us to wear our bright yellow ponchos which we had purchased the other day from the store. They were more like brightly coloured polythene bags folded together, but they did the job. Of course, R being the professional camper/hiker extraordinnaire, he had an actual poncho which made us look rather silly. Either way, we were off in the boats, the three of us and two others who were joining us for the hike. The journey was broken into 3; the first stop was at a small local village that was selling handicrafts, and the second was at another set of caves along the river. We were joined by 2 other boats, filled with people who were only coming this far; the next leg would be only the 5 of us.

We got off the boats and climbed up the wooden walkways to the next set of caves. 'Beautiful' is the only word that comes to mind when I remember them now. The fact that nature could form such artistic formations makes me question how our brains process art and beauty (perhaps a post for another time). The first cave we saw was 'Wind Cave', named so because in the middle of the cave there was a gian skylight-like opening on the roof of the cave, which generates a strong internal breeze within the cave. Our guide told us that rescue workers train at this cave opening by rappelling down the entrance. I wish I had a good picture to show you just how daunting a task that appeared!

We then went on to the next cave, a smaller one called 'Lady Cave' (named so because the shadows formed looked ladies apparently), before moving onto the bigger 'Clearwater Cave'. This cave had a underground stream running through the cave, bringing back memories of Tom Sawyer and old Famous Five books. On entering the cave we had to cross a small bridge across the river. Our guide pointed to the source of the river, which was shrouded in unlit darkness, and told us that 'adventure caving' happened here. Eight hours of climbing and swimming in the darkness, with just harnesses and torches! Gazing into the utter blackness, I could only imagine the levels of bravery or sheer lunacy required for someone to do that.

Dude looks like a lady?

On the bottom right you can see the underwater stream

A quick lunch, and the rest of the boats headed back while ours headed up the river. We went on for another hour or so, apprehensively watching the skies to see if there was a chance of it being clear the next day. We had heard that the group that were at the camp site today coudn't climb because of the rain, and we were worried that the same fate would befall us.

After an hour or so, we were looking for some sort of jetty which would indicate our boat journey had come to an end, so imagine my surprise when suddenly the motors cut, and the boat just drifted to the bank where our guide politely signalled us to get off the boat! Nothing to stand on, so we just pulled on the bamboo shoots jutting out of the mud, and somehow scrambled to land. The guide gave us our bags, pointed us in the direction we should go, and left us. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little nervous now; there was just a barely-there jungle track, and a small sign with an arrow. So, we picked up our bags and away we went. After an hour we saw the first sign post that said "8km". Eight kilometres through the jungle, with nothing but a mud track and a few stones to show the way. I was psyched! It was extremely exhilarating to trek through that, climbing over tree trunks and crossing small streams, the odd moss-eaten wooden bridge along the way. We doubled back on the river a couple of times, so our old friends the rope-bridges were there to greet us. However we made good time, and within two hours or so we had covered the 8.5 km's and arrived at the clearing that was Camp 5.

They called this a 'path'?

The view from Camp 5

The camp was nothing much to look at but the surroundings were beautiful; right at the river, and under the massive Mt. Mulu. Beautiful view, and very scenic; we unpacked in our rather spartan quarters (we basically got a rubber exercise mat as a bed) and divided the rations for the next day (we had to prepare our own meals for the hike; they provided the kitchen). Our guide gave us a quick run through of what we should expect for the next day. We were to leave around 630am, that is, if the weather held up. The climb would be 2.4 km long (whoa.) and we'd climb to an elevation of about 1.1 km as well (whoa). I can't remember the exact breakdown, but it was something along the lines of: first 30% is easy, next 50% harder, last 20% super hard. Day 5 was going to be very, very interesting.

We feasted on Maggi and tried to sleep, though the cold and lack of blankets/pillows etc made it a lot harder than I thought it would. I slept fitfully at best, and before I knew it, our 5am wakeup call had arrived.

Day 5 & 6

On Day 5, my body gave up on me.

As planned we started the day early, eagerly checking the the skies to see if the weather was good enough to climb the mountain. To our relief the guide said we were good to go, so we packed our backpacks, carried our 3 liters of water each and started up the mountain. However, within minutes I knew something was wrong; I could feel my muscles going stiff, and I was breathing a lot harder than usual. I was determined to keep up with the rest of the group, but within half an hour I knew I was in trouble. The climb was gentle, but for someone who is more used to walking long distances in a straight line, climbing up a mountain even for short distances may seem a lot harder than it is. Pretty soon, t-shirts were off, and my back-pack was taken by S who wasn't carrying one. The guide stopped every now and then to check on me, but I managed to convince him that I was just going to be very slow and to go ahead without me. To this day I'm not sure what exactly happened; perhaps a combination of the previous days hike, lack of sleep and breakfast. Or maybe I had grossly over-estimated my level of fitness. Pretty soon, the group had vanished from sight, and the group that had started after me had overtaken me.

You see a way up here?

Honestly, after an hour of climbing that mountain, I was ready to give up. The climb was gradually getting harder now, and the limestone was sharp and unforgiving. Any wrong step resulted in a sharp cut along your legs, any slip of the hands were met with the same. The path was even less defined than the previous day, but the broken branches and a few wooden posts here and there led the way. The sun was slowly coming out, but I was careful to not drink too much water. I felt like a 100kg's already!

After 2 hours I had already decided to turn back at least 5 times. The jungle was warmer now, and the climb was much steeper, intermingled with a few ropes and iron clamps hammered into the rock to serve as makeshift ladders. Every now and then I caught a glimpse of the group ahead but I had no plans on catching them; my body just wouldn't allow it. Trying to repeat the few hiking tips I had been told ("Don't stop, just keep moving forward at a steady pace, no matter how slow") I forged ahead but the one thing that kept running through my head was that the climb down is said to be even harder than the climb up.

Just after the 2 hour mark I reached the last stretch, and then onwards it was just jungle gym. Ropes, ladders, and razor sharp rocks; it was ridiculous, especially for someone who was already completely burnt out! I have never been that exhausted in my life, and I have never pushed myself beyond the limit like that! I was so embarrassed that the rest of the group had outstripped me so easily but at that time I was more concerned with just making it up the mountain.

Seriously. What?!

2300m up the mountain, another 100m to go

Finally, after three hours, we reached the top, and boy, what a sight!

We relaxed up here for an hour or so, eating lunch. Wait, we would have eaten lunch, but we rather unfortunately forgot to pack it. So there we were, starving while everyone else around us was feasting away. Not pleasant.

After an extended picture session, we started our trek downwards. I will spare you the details, needless to say, I barely made it down; dead last but alive! My knees were shot to hell and my quads felt like they were on fire but I made it somehow, washed off, and dove into the ice cold river. What. A. Feeling. And what a journey!

The evening was spent recuperating and playing cards, and the next morning we once again woke up early and took off for our 8.5km hike back to the spot we got dropped off. Thankfully I had somewhat recovered and we made it back in almost the same time we had taken to reach the camp. The boat picked us up and within a few hours we had stumbled back into our dormitory.

Day 7

The next day was spent mainly travelling, as our flight took us back to Kota Kinabalu by afternoon. We had a few hours to kill, so we made a quick trip into the city to have some lunch. We got dropped at the biggest mall there, roamed around for a while and had a quite fantastic chicken biriyani. R finally shaved his unsightly beard, if only because he was going to with S to Singapore, where the girls are apparently more attractive. I wouldn't know, as I was scheduled to fly to Colombo that night via KL.

Finally the time came to part ways, and so we said our goodbyes in the airport as R and S headed to Singapore while I waited for my KL flight. Despite it being just a week of travel, we had all seen and done so much that the journey felt ten times longer than it was! As I watched them leave I felt a strange sense of accomplishment, because this was the first time I had ever made a trip like this on my own, with my own finances. The fact that this trip came together so quickly and so last minute was just amazing; I'm so glad I decided to throw caution to the winds and just say "Yes, let's do this!".

After a few delays and an agonizing 5 hour wait in the KL airport from midnight to 5am for my flight to Colombo, I finally touched down on home soil. I couldn't wait to tell everyone about my trip, but I just knew that no matter how much I explained it all, you really had to be there to experience it. Fantastic trip, can't wait to plan another 'adventure-vacation' soon!

The Darkside Does Malaysia: Part 2

2011-07-28T18:12:00.003+05:30

Sorry for the delay in posting, it's been that kind of week!

So where was I? Ah; Day 2.

Day 2

Day 2 found us packing our bags to head back to the airport, for our flight to Mulu. The Mulu National Park is located in the southern part of Malaysian Borneo, known as Sarawak. I was slowly starting to grasp how large Malaysia really was; the ads and testimonies from friends had given me a very wrong view of the sheer size and diversity of the place.

We touched down at the Mulu airport around 2pm in the afternoon. However, I use the word 'airport' very loosely; I have never seen a smaller airport in my life! In typical Jurassic Park style, we climb down the airplane steps onto the tarmac, walk over to this small hall where we just stand around until a small jeep brings the bags from the plane to you. Yes, no conveyor belts, no nothing; straight from the cargo hold, to your hands. Turn around, walk 15 steps and you're out of the airport.

That my friend is how all airports should be! I later found out that the airport was the only way to reach Mulu; that or by road from Miri which is about 100kms away, or for the more adventurous, down the river. Anyway, as soon as we stepped out we managed to secure a ride to the park which was about five minutes away. We hadn't booked anything in advance, because we wanted to see if we could negotiate a cheaper rate at the place itself, as the internet prices seemed rather steep. Hopefully the Sri Lankan skills at negotiating would come in useful!

The first thing that struck me about the Mulu National Park - was the rope bridge we had to cross to get to it. But the second thing that struck me about the park was how incredibly helpful they were. We stood in line at the Information desk and when it was our turn we explained how we basically had just turned up here with little or no idea of exactly what to do, except that we wanted to see caves. The guy at the counter was extremely patient with us, as he explained all of the activities we could do at the park. He asked us how long we were here for, then proceeded to basically draw up our entire agenda for the next 4 days. Not only did he cover all of the activities that we wanted to go for, but he slotted it in so neatly that we didn't waste any time any day. We spoke to him about prices, and we were relieved to find that the prices on the websites had been incorrect; the whole 4 days worked out to about 15k LKR, which I found very reasonable given the number of tours we had signed up for.

As we left the park, R remarked on how much better Sinharaja would be if we had people who were this helpful over there as well. It was an interesting point.

We found a small dormitory right outside the park, since the park accommodation was full up. It was cheap, and manned by a friendly guy whose name we never got. Basically we got three beds in a hall of around 25, and a small common toilet and shower area. We were willing to forsake our privacy for the rates they were offering, and gladly took it as we went over the plan for the next few days. According to our agenda, we would cover four 'show caves', a 'canopy walk' which was a tour along the tree tops via rope bridge, and the big three day hike to the 'pinnacle summit'. The night was spent with a decent dinner and a lot of talk as we caught up on what we had been up to over the years. R and I hadn't seen S since high school, while R and I had only met 2 or 3 times over the last ten years. Our conversation went on for hours, and we decided to call it a night just after midnight. I'm sure our hosts were grateful, because what we didn't realise till that point was that we were running on generator power at that time, and the generator is only switched on between 5pm and midnight. Yes, 7 hours of electricity per day; something we would have to get used to.

Day 3

Day 3 started early, as breakfast at our princely abode was available only between 7am and 8am. So after a hearty breakfast of toast, beans, egg and sausages, we headed to the camp to start the Canopy Walk. Our group consisted of about 7 people including us, and our guide took us into the forest to start off. The paths were well done, consisting of a wooden walkway, so the walk was no difficulty. Somehow, despite the man-made path, the forest around still retained its wild aura, and I wasn't in the least tempted to stray off the path for my own 'adventure'.

After 30-40 minutes, we reached the place where the rope bridges began. Now, these rope bridges may sound very fun, but I had no idea exactly how unsafe those things would feel when you were on them. The guides probably realised that too, which is why only two could walk on them at a time. At some places there was only enough room to put one foot in front of the other, and the creaking wooden planks you were stepping on did not inspire confidence. Definitely not for the faint of heart, but the view was breathtaking, as we took in just how enormous the forest cover was. We even caught a glimpse of Mt. Mulu, with it's sheer limestone cliffs in the distance. My camera did it's best to capture the vastness of it all, but you really need a wide angle lens to see it properly.

I found this very interesting

My great travel friends

If I remember correctly, the rope bridges spanned a total of about 500m, and soon we were back on the ground and heading back for lunch; in the afternoon we would be heading out for our first view of the famous Mulu caves.

We left camp around 230pm in the afternoon, again along the wooden pathways, though this time for a little over an hour into the forest. There we reached a clearing where the mountain sort of rose up right in front of us. Again, the size of it was amazing; I couldn't wait to get to the caves.

We reached Langs cave after a short half hour walk from the clearing, up the mountain. The guide gave us a short lecture on the formation of the caves, the theory behind the formations and the time that would be needed to form such complex creations. As interesting as that was, I quickly forgot about that once I went inside and saw it for myself.

After a lot of fiddling with my camera settings, I was able to get off a few shots of the interior and the formations, which were all very strategically lit up so as not to ruin the darkness of the caves (we needed to carry torches with us and they were in use a lot!) but yet enough to provide illumination for the various limestone formations there.

Langs cave was great, but what we were really looking forward to was Deer Cave, which is supposed to be the largest natural cave in the entire world, able to comfortably house nine cathedrals inside it. Famous too, for being the home of around 3 million bats that rush out of the cave every evening in a spectacular display against the fading light of dusk.

After another half hour walk from Langs cave, we finally reached Deer Cave. The entrance was ominous enough, but once I stepped inside - well, see for yourself.

If ever there were a time for the use of the term 'mind-boggling', this would be it. My eyes just could not understand how huge the interior of the cave was. I felt like a cheap digital camera, vainly attempting to auto focus on a moving object. As you enter the cave, the near wall sort of falls away, revealing the other end of the cave in a manner that makes it appear miles away. There are giant boulders strewn across the floor, and the dull evening light that snakes into the cave makes it look otherworldly. The further in we went, the more our torches came into use, but they too were woefully inadequate to pierce the blackness of the cave. There was a lot movement above us, testament to the sleeping army of bats hiding in the dark recesses of limestone. And of course, where there are bats, there is bat poop, and there was no shortage of supply here - literally, small mountains of poop on the cave floor!

We finally made it out of the cave and headed to the clearing. Just in time too, as the bats started to make their way out of the caves in droves, making zig-zag formations across the skies in an attempt to evade predatory birds that wait near the cave opening to pick them off for an early dinner.

As darkness fell we headed back to our lodging, where thankfully there was electricity. Day 4 would involve more caving, but also the first day of our perilous 3 day Pinnacles trek. Stay tuned!

The Darkside Does Malaysia: Part 1 Of The Epic Borneo Trip

2011-07-20T19:25:00.003+05:30

In what can only be described as a whirlwind of a month, I have finally found some time to sit down in relative peace and calm to write this post. The last four weeks have involved, in no particular order: (low cost) international travel, white water rafting, mountain climbing, jungles, bat shit, caves, Nasi Lemak, 3am wake-up calls, lots of driving, a wedding, lots of walking, and a high school graduation. And a substantial reduction in my savings.

Where do I even begin! Well, at the beginning, no doubt.

On June 26th, one of my high school friends (S) and I took off from Colombo to Kuala Lampur. We were on route to Kota Kinabalu, which is part of Malaysian Borneo, where we were planning on meeting another of our high school friends (R) who was at that time busy backpacking his way through most of South East Asia (much to our envy). The plan had been thrown together all very suddenly, with a little over 4 weeks of preparation for this week long adventure holiday. Either way, it was a much needed break for me, and I eagerly devoured all the material R had sent me regarding the itinerary for our stay.

Our first day was mainly spent travelling, from Colombo to KL, and then KL to KK. We landed sometime in the night, and took a cab to the lodge R was staying in. As our cab sped along on its way to the small side street off the main road that was our destination, I took in my first view of Malaysia. While most people are enamoured with the glitz and glamour of the capital, I knew that we were literally not going to set foot in Kuala Lampur, save for the transit in the airport. Kota Kinabalu would have to welcome me to Malaysia all on her own, and it did so with a brave attempt of emulating her capital, though without nearly half the grandeur. The streets were well lit, full of colour but the city seemed simple and unassuming to my eye.

As we carried our bags to the lodge, I was surprised at the place we were staying at. The word 'lodge' was a slight exaggeration; it had one medium sized central living room, and a few dormitories with bunk beds. The entire place was air conditioned, and very clean, the beds looked very clean and comfortable as well. We were bunking with 5-6 other people though, all travellers by the looks of them, yet no one seemed at all bothered that three loud Asians had just infiltrated their sleeping quarters with loud enthusiastic conversation.

Our first night we walked to the pier where R was already having dinner with a few travelling friends he had met that day. This concept of meeting random people while travelling and then joining them for meals and lodging was new to me; perhaps it is my Sri Lankan nature to expect the worst while travelling with strangers. However, we all had a great time as we got to know each other. And what a group we were! One Japanese nurse on holiday, one Texan oil rigger on leave (he was working on a rig off the coast of Malaysia if I'm not mistaken), one 19 year old Swiss girl who had just completed high school and was on a break. And of course, three Sri Lankans; one living in Singapore, one living in Switzerland, and yours truly. The night was long, yet enjoyable and full of fun, especially when R was offered free sexual favours from some transsexual prostitutes on the way back to the lodge. We literally fled the scene laughing, it was so awkward.

Day 1

Day 1 began early, because we had used some of S's contacts to get us on a white water rafting tour. We had heard the river we were going to was pretty rough, providing at least level 3-4 rapids (level 5 is the highest you can do without a license, if I'm not mistaken), so we were pretty excited about it. We got picked up by van, and a couple other vans joined us as we made our way to the river. As it turned out, the river was a good 3-4 hours drive away; that is, the train station was 3-4 hours away. From there we go by train to the river, because apparently it's not accessible any other way. No complaints, since the journey there was beautiful! We were climbing up to some serious altitude; at one point, the road climbed at such a steep angle that the van had to switch off the a/c and crawl up it.

After a light lunch on the way, we got in the train and headed to the river, where we loaded up the boats, got our life jackets, helmets, and got broken into squads. We three were in one boat, along with a Scottish/Irish single mom and her adorable 8 year old daughter. Now, you may think 'what is a single mom and her 8 year old doing white-water rafting?', and let me just inform you that she happened to be a former competitive Thai boxer. Yep, she hardcore. As for the kid, well, they said it was safe, so I was not too worried.

We got in the boats along with our guide whose name was King Kong. I can't remember the last time I've seen a man so chiselled. Needless to say, we felt pretty safe with him at the 'helm'.

The rapids were amazing! I doubt I can do justice to the whole experience, but me and R were in the front paddling our arms off and it was no easy task, especially when your boat is climbing up a crest and you can see the bottom of the wave a good 10 feet below you! Fantastic fun, especially when after hitting a particularly large wave head on, me and R turned around for a split second to see King Kong pulling S back in to the boat after a short 'out-of-boat' experience in a rapid. No time to burst into laughter though, another rapid was approaching! Between the rapids though we managed to coast and even get in the river ourselves to cool off a bit, while R bravely (or foolishly) took out his camera from his water-proof bag to take a few pictures on the way.

After a little over an hour, we reached the end point. It was quite a tiring ride but the fatigue was negated by the adrenaline rush. Truly a fun experience, and we made our way back to the train and back to our vans. After a short tea, we made the long journey back to KK, but not before taking in the amazing sunset from the mountains.

After reaching our rooms we decided to try out some of the famed sea food in the area, and after asking a few people for their recommendations we ended up at the largest sea food food-court I had ever seen. Only, it wasn't what you would expect.

Yes, there we were, surrounded by more aquariums than Sea World, filled with every variety of sea creature that is edible by man. I'm sure if we looked hard enough we'd find an aquarium labelled "Aquaman's Mom". All one had to do was pick one, tell them how you wanted them ~~to die~~ prepared, and Bam! there's your dinner. Now, I love my seafood, but this was a bit much. I had never craved chicked so badly; we decided to head back to the pier for some Singaporean cuisine instead.

So that was the end of Day 1; the next day we'd be travelling to the Mulu National Park in Sarawak, where we'd be staying for the remainder of our trip. I think this is enough of an update for now, will post the rest later!

The Return of The Headless Videos: 311 - "Love Song"

2011-06-26T07:30:00.001+05:30

Wow, I can't believe it's been a whole year since I've uploaded a cover! It goes to show that I've just been that busy, and also I suppose, that lazy! However, since the last time I posted a video it was for T's birthday, I thought what better occasion to return to the musical scene than again on her birthday.

This isn't my usual style of cover, but I must admit it felt good when T suggested I cover it, and soon it grew on me. It's not the best quality because sadly my camera has suffered a series of unfortunate events and rendered it near inoperable. I will be setting up the "Raise Money For Gehan's Camera" fund shortly.

Anyway without much further ado, here it is: "Love Song"

PS: Dear T, wishing you a very, very happy birthday, and I hope you like this cover as much as you liked the last!

You can view it on Youtube here, and you can download the mp3 here.

Killing Fields: Why Are We Not Talking About It?

2011-06-16T15:00:00.000+05:30

Last night, I sat and watched the Channel 4 documentary "Sri Lanka's Killing Fields".

~~If you haven't seen it yet (and there's a strong chance that you haven't) I urge that you click on the link above and set aside 40 minutes of your time.~~

I've had a good 12 hours for this information to digest before writing this post, so I'm trying my best to weigh my words as best as possible. As soon as I had finished the documentary I was filled with outrage; outrage that such inhumanity could exist so close to home, outrage at the very acts shown in the film, and outrage that no one was talking about it.

For those who are still clueless, the documentary shows the final few days and months of the civil war in Sri Lanka that ended two years ago when the Sri Lankan army stormed and wiped out the remaining LTTE resistance with one fell swoop. It was a great military victory, one that we were quick to portray as "the only military victory over terrorism in the world" and such, but one that nonetheless ended 30 years of a bloody, painful civil war. However, the documentary also shows the horrific conditions in which the fleeing Tamil civilians endured as they were shelled out of their homes, herded into supposed 'No Fire Zones' which were quickly shelled as well, while watching their injured loved ones being blown to pieces while being attended to in makeshift hospitals. The documentary also shows clips taken by Sri Lankan Army soldiers, on small cameras and mobile phones; clips showing Army personnel executing naked Tamil soldiers, laughing at dead bodies, jokingly calling them 'properties of the state' before shooting them in the head.

~~The images are much too disturbing to describe; you have to see it to understand.~~

The documentary goes on, detailing what it calls as grounds for war crimes, as well as detailing the inaction of the United Nations (especially Ban Ki-Moon, who apparently visited after the war by doing a fly-by, getting garlanded and leaving). It is a horrific documentary, not for the faint of heart, and something that just gripped me.

~~So, what now?~~

~~The reaction to these videos has been startling to say the least. Let's document them:~~

~~1) "The videos are doctored and fake".~~

Ridiculous. Anyone with moderate knowledge of technology can tell that these videos are real. The soldiers are clearly speaking Sinhala as they laugh, insult and mock the dead (or soon to be dead) Tamils. The idea that someone has digitally edited something to make it look like a Sri Lankan soldier is executing Tamils is mindless, idiotic thinking, and a train of thought that is apparently being held by the government. Yet, perhaps this is the only option for some, unlikely as it may seem. For the alternative is even more unthinkable; our so-called 'heroes' commited vile acts in our names.

~~2) "It's over, so what?"~~

Apathy seems to be the most common reaction. Many people, including some anonymous commentors on Youtube posts, blog posts etc, seem to think this is all irrelevant now that the war is over. They feel that this will just 'add fuel to the fire', so to speak, and that we should simply ignore this documentary as no good can come from it. I find this the most disturbing reaction of them all, because what kind of human being can be indifferent to the sort of senseless killing that is shown in this film? How can we, a supposedly 'Sinhala Buddhist Nation', allow these acts to go unpunished, and that too by our own troops? If after all this time, all this bloodshed, all this loss of life, we are still so unmoved by this, then the end of the war has achieved nothing.

~~3) "The LTTE has commited much worse, they've killed so many innocent Sinhalese people!"~~

According to this line of thinking, the soldiers in the videos are justified in commiting these atrocities because the Tigers commited much worse over the last 30 years. This includes using child soldiers, human shields, and suicide bombers. Yes, the Tigers did commit atrocious crimes, but how in the world does that give the army (who are NOT a rebel guerilla faction) the right to behave in the same way?? What kind of bizarre "He did it so I'm doing it" playground thinking is that?

Last night, I sat and watched the Channel 4 documentary "Sri Lanka's Killing Fields".

This morning I realised that it doesn't matter, and no one really cares. We're all free after all, and that's all that matters, right?

Have a nice day.

Another Confession

2011-06-10T06:30:00.004+05:30

She always knew it would come to this.

As often as she had tried to ignore it, the fact remained within her mind, bursting at the seams of her subconscious like a relentless river against a rickety old dam. And now, here it was being realised before her eyes. She hated confrontation, but this was much worse; a goodbye long overdue.

How did she get here, she asks herself almost incredulously. But no, she stops herself from going down that road; that road leads to self-loathing, and God knows she has enough reasons to hate herself without having to add this to the list.

Her mind finally returns to the present. She sits at the edge of the bed, her sacred bedroom in total disarray. Drawers hang open, their contents upset or missing. With a heavy heart she takes it all in, not missing a single corner of the room. Well, that's not entirely true; she makes a distinct effort to ignore that space taken up by the person standing right in front of her, his hands on his head, his face an expression of total incomprehension.

She looks him in the eyes, and tries not to notice the pain behind them, the confusion that engulfs him. His things were neatly packed in a cardboard box at his feet, when minutes ago they were in her drawers, together with hers. His hands are clenched, when a few hours ago they would have been surrounding hers. Her heart is cold and empty, when a few days ago it would have been his.

"Why?", he says, softly.

She looks back down at the floor and sighs, gathering her thoughts, before speaking.

"I don't know. I don't know how to explain it in a way you would understand. I'm not entirely sure I understand it either. All I know is.."

She pauses. This will be hard.

"'You think we're happy, and even I did for a while. We were comfortable with each other, you moved in without any trouble, we never fought about a thing. But, you never fight about anything! You never question me, you never stood up to me, you let me steam roll right through your life and you assume that's what I want but it's not!"

Her eyes find his now; she wants him to understand this, more than anything.

"For God's sake, were you born to resist, or be abused?"

Silence.

"You probably think I'm just bored, just looking for something new to excite me, some new toy to play with; but - I've got another confession to make," she says, as her voice drops to almost a whisper.

She turns to face the window, taking in the last remaining light of day as it reflects off the city's skyline, before saying with finality:

"I'm getting tired of starting again somewhere new..."

This was part of the Indie Ink Challenge that many bloggers seem to be taking part in recently. It's pretty simple; you enter your name in a database weekly and you get to challenge and be challenged by other writers to write a post on a specific topic within the next 5 days. Mine was given by Sunshine , and I was supposed to use a line from my favourite song to tell a story. It's not my usual type of post, so I'm not sure how it turned out. The song is "Best of You" by the Foo Fighters. Hope you liked it! Also, in turn I challenged Catherine, and you can see her response here.

Liberation: A Rock & Roll Monologue

2011-06-06T11:21:00.002+05:30

"I'm thinking here, in Rock n' Roll's great cathedral that is Madison Square Garden, thinking in this moment about all the pilgrims, all the pioneers that got us all here, the saints and the heretics, the poets and the punks that now make up the Hall of Fame. It's a dangerous thing, this business of building idols, but at least Rock n' Roll is not, at its best, about worshipping sacred cows; it's about the thousands of voices gathered in one great unwashed congregation, like tonight. For a lot of us here, Rock n' Roll just means one word: 'Liberation'. Political, sexual, spiritual - liberation, that's what it is."
- Bono

I was watching a few videos on YouTube one night when I couldn't sleep, and I stumbled across U2's performance at the Rock n Roll Hall of Fame in Madison Square Garden, back in 2009. Bono, performing with Bruce Springsteen, is legendary enough; but then he opens his performance with this little monologue, and I found it mesmerizing that anyone could speak so passionately about music, live, and impromptu. The emotion in Bono's voice adds to the sincerity behind it, as does the Boss' little "Let's have some fun with that!" nudge at the end of it.

Magic. Give it a listen. Also, after hearing this, I can't believe I didn't see how perfect Bruce Springsteen's vocals are for this song.

You can see more here, and here.

Of Violence And Vandalism: A Patriotic Thought

2011-05-31T14:29:00.007+05:30

Since Sri Lanka so emphatically won the civil war with the Tamil Tigers, the catch-phrase in the country has been 'patriotism'. Are you 'patriotic'? Do you endorse 'patriotic' activities? Which 'patriotic' leader do you follow? Do you know anyone who is un-'patriotic'? Sri Lanka these days is a collage of Mahinda Rajapakse's smiling visage and the word 'patriotism' in different tenses, conjugations and scripts.

We are a peculiar people. As a whole, the people of Sri Lanka have almost total disregard to the world's opinion of them. This can be seen as a good thing, in certain contexts, and just laughable in others.

Take for example this riot that occurred in the Free-Trade Zone in Katunayake yesterday. There were loud and demonstrative protests to the new pension scheme the government is trying to employ; a scheme where, from my understanding, the money accumulated by hard working citizens towards the EPF will now be lost, replaced with a non-transferable monthly pension that can only be withdrawn after retirement. I'm not even going to debate or justify the proposal, since I'm not educated enough to understand the inner workings of the scheme (because on face value, it just seems ridiculously unfair). What I want to focus on is the way these protesters were handled.

The reports are conflicting at best, but all seem to point towards a large mob that the police could not control; a mob that eventually got violent and assaulted the handful of policemen there, including the DIG. I supposed that's what mobs generally do, and I doubt anyone is surprised by this random and pointless act of violence towards the police and the local police station.

What is surprising however, is their reaction.

Apparently the Special Tasks Forces were called in to assist. There are, again, conflicting reports on what happened next, with some saying that the STF or the police went so far as to shoot live ammunition into the crowd. I don't know about that, but I do know that in retaliation for the assault of the police officers earlier, they broke down the gate of one of the factories, stormed inside, and proceeded to trash the building, breaking all the windows as well as smashing the cars and bikes parked in the company parking lot. These reports aren't in the papers, but I have it on good authority since I now someone who was there and witnessed it. Plus, apparently there is security camera footage as well.

It is becoming more and more amusing to read about the stands we are taking against the 'western' nations and their ideals, and how we refuse to 'bow down' to their demands and expectations at the 'cost of our integrity', especially when we are not operating on any higher moral ground ourselves. Violent protests happen, especially if they aren't controlled properly, but the authorities resorting to petty retaliation? Aren't the police trained for these types of situations, in that they know how to handle them effectively and not go into a blind rage just because some fellow comrades got hurt? This silly 'tit-for-tat' mentality is childish and unacceptable. At least, it would be unacceptable in any other civilised 'western' country, where there are laws that are actually implemented, and if not, there are measures and ways to deal call attention to it. What we have here instead is the police and the supposed peace-keepers taking the law into their own hands and dealing a form of vigilante justice. Yes, the mob got violent. Yes, the assaulted a few policemen. No, that doesn't give you license to carry out vandalism and property damage.

I am tired of the stupidity that I see in the newspapers everyday. I'm tired of laughing at some of the stories I hear regarding government, politics and common sense. I'm tired of people asking why it was alright for Obama to get Osama assassinated and not for us to kill Prabhakaran. I wish there was something I could do to fix it, but all I can do is write a whine on this blog and hope for the best. I wish for once I could read or hear of some new plan or strategy that will take the country forward rather than backward. If that makes me unpatriotic, so be it.

Challenge Accepted!

2011-05-26T16:59:00.001+05:30

*Apparently I wrote a post in the dead of night last night in a semi-conscious state. It is somewhat lucid so I'll keep it up. Mental note - no internet after 1am.

Facebook, and the internet in general has been taken by this 30 Day Challenge fever, where everyone is posting music and movies (well fine, only me) and some have turned it into a poetry challenge and god knows what else. Then there's Cadence, who is on a 'Game Plan' to shed 14kg in a ludicrous time-frame, and then there are these GoodReads book challenges, and I AM SICK OF THESE CHALLENGES!!

Well not really, I'm just really bad at them.

My GoodReads challenge is as good as dead (I've read 2 books out of my allotted 15 book challenge. I may not reach 5) and I have decided to abandon my 30 Day Movie challenge out of sheer boredom (I watch too many movies; every question required hours of agonising and recollection). The only 'challenge' I seem to have conquered was my plan to return to regular gym work-outs, but I don't want to label that as a challenge in case I jinx the whole thing.

Despite all this, however, I have decided to take on.. another challenge.

The hardest habits to break are the ones that sort of sneak up on you when you're looking the other way. It starts off as something inconsequential, and then into something minor, then to something necessary, and before you know it you've incorporated it into daily life. Breaking these habits are hard because, really, you see no real need to do it and also because it's become so normal.

Yes, I am talking about - smileys!

I was rather alarmed when it dawned on me that I use those little faces way too often during chat conversations and text messages. It's not like I drop a punctuation mark 'face' after every sentence, but they do appear rather liberally in my conversations. Now, there are several reasons for this; one being, I use sarcasm. A lot. And in these situations, smiley faces are essential.

Sample chat statements:

Friend: Hey my girlfriend says hi!

G: She said more than that last night..

Friend: Dude.. WTF?? That's not funny!

Friend: Hey my girlfriend says hi!

G: She said more than that last night.. ;) :P :D

Friend: HAHAHA oh man, that's hilarious! You're the best friend ever..!

Friend2: .. and after that we're going to Galle Face. Do you know where Galle Face is?
G: No
Friend2: Really?? Oh you're from Kandy, you don't come to Colombo no??
G: No
Friend2: You really should machan, what is there in Kandy?? You spend all day in city centre no?
G: Yes
Friend2: I knew it!

Friend2: .. and after that we're going to Galle Face. Do you know where Galle Face is?
G: No :P :D
Friend2: haha just checking, okay anyway..

Also, those smileys are always useful in getting out of a sticky situation when you may have accidentally said something you weren't meant to.

Friend3: I might skip dessert, I don't want to put on any more weight u know?
G: How could you possibly put on any more weight?
Friend3: How dare you!! Are you implying that I'm.. (rant)

Friend3: I might skip dessert, I don't want to put on any more weight u know?
G: How could you possibly put on any more weight?
[realisation strikes]
G: :D :P :D
Friend3: hahahaha very funny! :P

As you can see, there is a distinct advantage to using them, but as I grow older I fear that I may end up being taken as seriously as a text-addicted high school kid by my peers, and that is not something that I want to happen. So, dear readers, it will be a challenge, but I am up for it! From now onwards, my use of smileys and other emoticons shall be reduce by (pause for effect) 99%!! The ground rules:

1. All emoticons with any form of punctuation mark are not allowed
2. One smile :) is allowed per chat conversation, and can be used either for a hello or goodbye, for courtesy sake
3. LOL's and haha's are allowed, as long as they are not too liberal
4. No implied smileys (such as "[smile]") or any other variant allowed.

There you go then. Lets see how long I can last in the cyberworld without my trusty icons, and feel free to join me in this quest.

If you dare...!

(Too much? Never mind..)

Cheers!

Insomnia

2011-05-26T00:56:00.002+05:30

Now, before you get started, let me say yes, I know I'm not really suffering from insomnia, I am merely unable to sleep and prone to exaggeration and drama.

It is almost 1am right now, and I have tried in vain to slip into bed and drift away into sleep. Sadly, the combination of extreme heat and my recent bout of late night restlessness (it's not as fun as it sounds) has made it a futile task. I have been walking around the house bleary eyed, as my eyelids refuse to completely shut while at the same time refusing to remain fully open. The results are very tired eyelids and a marked increase in frustration. I have called all the people I could possibly call at this time of night (a grand total of one, unfortunately) and now I have resorted to plonking my uncooperative self in front of the laptop. What I hope to achieve though, I have no idea; perhaps I can write a post so boring, reading it in draft will put me to sleep.

However, during all this tossing and turning and fussing about, I took time to notice the surrounding landscape. It's amazing how different even the most familiar surroundings can look when viewed in darkness. Night time brings with it its cloak of shadows and blackness, and somehow even the most well-known sights become forbidding, unknown places.

I think this is also relevant to people. Over the last few years, I have had the misfortune of meeting the most horrible, evil people I could ever imagine. I have witnessed them do unspeakably selfish things, all for personal gain and satisfaction. For me it has been a lesson in discernment, for so often I have assumed someone to be one thing only to discover that it was all just a charade, a clever deceptive mask that hides their true selves, and their true agendas.

I have many times mocked the world in general for its hopelessness, yet I have always believed in the inherent good of people. Yet, after meeting these devious double-minded people, I feel as if I must re-evaluate my stand.

Now, if only I could fall asleep...!

.

CEPA Photography Exhibition Extravaganza Extraordinaire Bonanza!

2011-05-24T08:20:00.002+05:30

Click for larger and more readable image

Alright so perhaps that was a little much. However, as I have ~~reluctantly~~ volunteered to sell my blog space out as advertising for monetary (and other) benefits, I figure I might as well be grand about it.

Send in your pics, all you shutterbugs; I've been hearing good things about this event, and I promise that the exhibition is going to be first-class, so perfect opportunity for not just the professionals but even the amateur photographers out there to get some exposure (see what I did there?).

Click here if you want more details and want to download the application form. If that doesn't work, try this link instead.

And in closing, this song seems apt.

30 Day Movie Challenge: Day 09 & 10

2011-05-10T10:27:00.003+05:30

Day 09 - a movie that you can dance to (?)

Clearly I didn't think this part through when I amended the 30 Day Song Challenge to my movie challenge, because it's quite obvious that nobody dances to movies. Unless you're 'special'. So let me edit this to: Favourite Dance Movie.

This will be tough, because I normally can't stand dance movies. I tried watching Step Up 3D 3 times and gave up after the first 3 minutes. I love the fantasy that surrounds dance movies, where it feels like we're all in an alternate universe where every problem can be solved if we just dance it out long enough. I love it, but I can't buy it for more than a few minutes at a time. Naturally, this makes my pool of options really small, but let me see what I can dig up.

I was very tempted to put in "Black Swan (2010)" but I realise it's not exactly a 'dance' movie per se. Then there are the classics, I mean, even Mary Poppins had dancing in it (I loved that movie). But, after painstakingly refreshing my memory with all the dance movies I've seen through the years, I've narrowed it down to three candidates.

One movie had a cheesy premise but a young Tyra Banks and Piper Perabo. And a decent story. And, well, this. The other was an interesting story where Richard Gere and Jennifer Lopez play love interests united by dance but not quite.

But the winner, unfortunately, is clearly this: Step Up (2006)

What can I say, at least there was a semblance of story and acting in this one. Let's move swiftly along, after the break.

Runners up:

Coyote Ugly (2000)

Shall We Dance? (2004)

Day 10 - a movie that makes you fall asleep.

This was a toss-up between two movies that were so boring I literally have no idea what they were about. Meet the candidates:

Syriana (2005)

I know, it looks awesome doesn't it? But try watching it.

Contestant no.2 - Sideways (2004)

What the heck is this movie about? The only part of this I remember is Sandra Oh going going berserk on Thomas Haden Church when he finds out he's about to get married.

Honestly, I can't be bothered deciding. Both of these were snoozefests for me.

Basketball..

2011-05-10T10:01:00.001+05:30

.. is awesome.

'Nuff said.

30 Day Movie Challenge: Day 07 & 08

2011-05-07T22:29:00.004+05:30

Wow I am ridiculously behind my own challenge. I feel so, ill-disciplined.

So, moving on: Day 07 - a movie that reminds you of a certain event.

Oh boy. It was my first semester of college, and somehow or the other, I had befriended a pretty and intelligent girl who was two years senior to me. It was completely platonic, but despite constantly reminding everyone about it, my friends and even some seniors never failed to poke fun at it and make scandalous insinuations every time I got a call from her. Granted, we talked into the wee hours of the morning almost every night, but - no, it was completely platonic.

Well, during the first few times we spoke, the topic came around to the usual "hey we should hang out more often". So, naturally, I suggested we go watch a movie sometime, to which she promptly agreed. The next evening, I checked the listings to see which movies were playing. I didn't know any of them, so I just randomly picked one and picked up the phone to call her (H).

Me: Hey you, watcha doing today?

H: Hi! Nothing really, what about you?

Me: So, wanna go for a movie today, around 7pm?

H: Sure! Which one.

Me: Err, well they're showing this movie called "Wild Things". You seen it?

H: ...

Me: Hello?

H: Well, yeah. You haven't?

Me: No. Why, is it not good? We can go for something else...

H: Oh no, it's good. It's a bit.. Well..

Me: [confused silence]

H: So what time are you picking me up?

Now, note to the readers: this was memorable mainly because it was the first time I took a girl to a movie. Of course, it wasn't a date though because - no it wasn't a date!

Either way, the movie starts, Denise Richards does her thing, and things are going rather swimmingly, until - BAM! - one of the most famous movie sex scenes in the last 20 years.

Needless to say, it was at this moment I understood H's reluctance to see the movie. It was at this moment too that I understood why there were so few women in the theatre. I looked at her, mortified, but she had already shut her eyes.

We laughed about it afterwards, but wow was I embarrassed as we stepped out of the hall. While it was memorable, it wasn't remembered for the usual reasons when taking a girl to a movie, especially the first time. Not that it was a date or anything, because - oh never mind.

Day 08 - a movie that you know all the lines to (at least the famous ones)

Is there any movie with more memorable dialogue that Quentin Tarantino's masterpiece that taught us about Big Mac's in France, educated us on the significance of giving a woman a foot massage, taught us how to hide a watch on your person if you're ever taken as a prisoner of war by Viet Cong, and showed us what to do in the unlikely event that you kill someone in the back seat of your car (by accident) on the highway.

The winner by a mile is - Pulp Fiction (1994)

I mean, just look how huge the quotes page on IMDb is for this movie!

Runners up:

The Godfather (1972)

Out of Sight, Out of Mind

2011-05-06T00:31:00.005+05:30

I have said many times before that I do my best thinking when I'm staring out the window of a speeding vehicle. Many times, that speeding vehicle has been hurtling me to or away from someone I love. I feel like that is the very definition of 'bitter sweet'.

We all have moments in life that beckon a new chapter, or a new start, in a new location. Be it studies, work, or personal reasons, it is a rare individual who can say that he or she has been in the same place and around the same people all his life.

I used to hate saying goodbyes in college. It reminded me how far behind I was with regards to everyone else. It reminded me that I was not supposed to be here. I watched near and dear leave in buses and trains, never to return. I waved goodbye to love so many times, and I remember every one of them. Eventually, it became a routine.

Is there a limit to how much loss one can take? Are we as indestructible as we sometime like to think we are? Just animals that grow to adapt and move on regardless of circumstance? Do we form attachments for psychological reasons alone, and not because of reasons of the heart? I had often thought that the hardships of the past had hardened my heart to feel pain solely for myself. I had come to accept that I was now a selfish man, who looked at others hardships through the tainted and skewed glasses of bitterness. I acknowledged that I no longer listened to others troubles so that I could help; instead I listened only to justify my actions in the light of theirs; to find reason to say that I was tougher than them.

Recently, I said goodbye to yet another friend. Not a lifelong buddy, not a brother who had confided me, not a lover who had trusted me. Just - a friend. A friend who had to say goodbye under the most awful, unjust and cruel conditions. And, I actually felt it when I said goodbye.

It gives me hope, for I honestly thought that I was beyond it by now. I am glad that I can still feel others pain, and reach out regardless of the situation.

To quote Incubus - love hurts, but sometimes it's a good hurt, and it feels like I'm alive.

30 Day Movie Challenge: Days 06

2011-05-04T14:46:00.000+05:30

It looks like I've fallen horrificly behind in my self-imposed 30 Day challenge, so let me see if I can do some quick catching up while I can.

Day 06 - a movie that reminds you of somewhere

Easy. Whenever I think of hear about this movie I'm transported back to the time and place immediately. It was 2007, and I was in college in Manipal India, dragging myself through the days, praying for and praying against the arrival of exams, when suddenly some of my friends came up with the idea of making a short road trip to the big multiplex in the city proper for the Indian premiere of Spider Man 3. You probably remember the enormous hype the first two movies garnered, so the third movie was a must-see. Plans were made, tickets were booked well in advance for the first evening show, and about 25 of us made the 90 minute ride on bikes to Mangalore.

However, somone had forgotten to inform us that in order to collect your reserved tickets, you need to arrive 45 minutes before the show starts. We arrived 20 minutes early, and found out our tickets were gone.

Naturally, we were all rather bummed out, so we decided to drown our sorrows in tandoori chicken and kebabs from across the street. By the time we were done, it was time for the next show, and by some miracle, we managed to find enough seats for all of us, even though we'd have to end up driving home well past midnight.

Finally in our seats, the movie started.

Half an hour later, my warning bells were ringing.

An hour later, people started murmuring.

Two hours in, people were laughing when Peter Parker burst into tears on screen.

And then, thankfully it was over. We had just driven all the way for what must be the biggest movie letdown at the time (we have since been blessed with Transformers 2). What an absolute rubbish movie, and yet, that movie always makes me smile as I remember the moonlit bike ride back, the looks on the faces of the kebab joint when all 25 of us started ordering food, and the good time we had despite our friendly neighbourhood Spidey getting stuck in his own web.

Good times!

(You have to watch this, it's just priceless!)

30 Day Movie Challenge: Day 05

2011-04-29T16:31:00.000+05:30

I feel rather strange doing this silly challenge right now when the interwebs are a-buzzing with the Royal Wedding that is going on at this very moment. So, in spirit of this momentous occassion, let me take two lines to say 'Congrats!'. I give them about 7 years before the fairy dust wears off and Kate Middleton realises she's married Gollum's taller brother.

Onwards! Day 05 - a movie that reminds you of someone

This is rather easy. When I was in college, I was one of the few people who used to watch a lot of movies, at least among my circle of friends from med school. Unfortunately, I hadn't learned at the time the subtle art of movie recommendations. See, sometimes people have very different tastes when it comes to movies, and no matter how much you try to convince them that The Godfather is a work of art, they'll always come back with "but I don't understand why he has to talk so funny...!"

Anyway, one day a girl from my church asked me to recommend a good movie. Now, my friends had just finished watching this and they told me it was a great movie. I myself hadn't watched it, and I didn't even know what it was about, but my friends generally have great taste, so I suggested it to her. She said thanks, and headed out to rent it.

A few days later, I met her and asked her how the movie was. Big mistake. Apparently, the movie was very graphic in nature, and was about someone who was abused as a child. Not the kind of movie you recommend to someone of her disposition. I had unintentionally traumatised her, and caused her many nights of insomnia.

I never recommended a movie to her again, and she never let me forget it! In fact, to this day, I still haven't seen it.

The winner is - Cold Creek Manor (2003)

Runners up:

Signs (2002) [Haha wow, I wonder if you'll read this and remember]

Pulp Fictioin (1994)

Say It

2011-04-28T22:44:00.000+05:30

What a strange evening it has been for me today. I got back from work around 530pm, just as the rain came down. The noise of it would have drowned out the sound of voices, had there been anyone speaking. No, today was one of those days I was alone, and I was fine with that.

I am always surprised at my alternating dependence and indifference to company. Normally my evenings are spent talking with friends, listening to music, relaxing, planning dinner, even grocery shopping with them. I am not always good company, but I like to think that my presence is not a negative in a group.

And then there are nights like tonight, spent without speaking to anyone, just music, movies, books and my thoughts.

If I'm honest, I must admit I am rarely honest with myself. At times, it can be good, because reality is a brutal truth that sometimes is hard to digest. At times, however, it's good to know your weaknesses. And, if I'm being honest with myself right now, I must admit that one of my many weaknesses is my inability communicate effectively. It has been the bane of my life. I wonder if I will ever get over it, wonder if this will come back to haunt me with serious repercussions in the future.

Or, like tonight, I wonder if I can not need it. Maybe, I can survive without having to explain myself to everyone, without having to make sure everyone understood my motives and my intentions for all my actions.

Tonight, as I sit alone with my earphones and my laptop, I realise I am surprisingly content with being by myself. Not happy, not thrilled; but content.

In the words of the song, maybe, just maybe, 'all I need is the air I breathe and a place to rest my head'.

Time will tell.

How Not To Swear In The Workplace

2011-04-28T10:45:00.000+05:30

Stumbled onto this online, and just had to share it. I can think of a few people who could really use a list like this either pasted on their desk or permanently glued to their arm.

This may be the only time I will ever say: well done HR!

Cheers!

G

Twenty Minute Posting: IV

2011-04-26T23:45:00.000+05:30

This one is going to be all over the place; don't say I didn't warn you.

Some people say that it's easier to get words on paper than it is to say them. Some say writing helps to arrange your thoughts and get things in order upstairs. Some people are wrong.

I for one can't seem to get my figurative 'pen' to figurative 'paper' at all, and it's not for a lack of thoughts in my head; trust me, it's a-buzzing like a hornets nest right now.

("Hornets nest"?? Really??)

It's just too damn hard. I would much rather Google devise some elaborate machine or app that could extract my mind's thoughts and display them in HD on my browser. Surely, that isn't too much to ask from the people that gave us Google Goggles and, well, Google anything.

(I just spent 8 minutes of the allotted 20 minutes for this post 'thinking'.)

I watched a shit movie called "Love and Other Drugs", where Jake Gyllenhall plays a messed up but good looking guy and Anne Hathaway plays a messed up but good looking girl. They fall in love, and they 'fix' each other. Idiots.

Love doesn't work that way. Relationships don't 'fix' things. You don't discover some miraculous epiphany thanks to the person you are together with. You don't learn some inner truth while you're naked in bed and staring into each others eyes.

Sometimes I think we need relationships, only so that we can be understood. That's all. Not to be fixed, healed, 'completed'. If you're broken, screwed up, and have self-esteem issues, a girlfriend or boyfriend is not going to help you. Perhaps this whole waiting till you meet "the one" nonsense is more about you giving yourself time to realise what a jackass you are, and doing something about it first before burdening someone else with your garbage.

When people have relationship problems, especially people in my age group i.e. 26 and lower, it's not because there's a problem with the relationship or the other person. The problem isn't even 'you'.

The problem is that you don't know that it's you.

If anyone gets something out of this word vomit, I salute you. Otherwise, let this just be another rambling lost to cyberspace, a page of pondering destined to be 'misunderstood'.

30 Day Movie Challenge: Day 4

2011-04-26T13:18:00.000+05:30

So on to Day 04 of this miserable challenge. Yes, 'miserable', because I just realised that I have 26 days left to go!

Day 04: a movie that makes you sad.

I think movies have to try really hard these days to 'make me sad', simply because so many lack the depth of movies I used to watch years ago. While many of Hollywood's 'drama' offerings these days obsess on trying to get you to connect with the characters, I find that I'm generally apathetic, and even sometimes bored, by the proceedings. Personally, when it comes to serious movies, simplicity is key.

However, there are some strong candidates for this movie, and most of them are from at least 8-10 years ago. Can anyone say that they didn't feel a punch in the gut at the graveyard scene in "Saving Private Ryan"? Or what about the utter hopelessness that Brad Pitt's "Se7en" potrayed? Russel Crowe's heroic death in "Gladiator"? Hillary Swank's journey for relevance in "Million Dollary Baby"? Liam Neeson's amazing performance as Oskar Schindler, sobbing and saying "I could have got one more, one more!" in "Schindler's List"? And then there was "Green Mile" - need I say more?

But, in the end there can be only one, so without further ado, the winner is : Requiem For A Dream (2000)

Is there any doubt that this was the most rivetting movie of it's time? I still remember the hushed silence that fell over our room when my college friends and I first watched this in someones room. What starts off as a fun, trippy movie about a few individuals that like to get high, turns into the most darkest, gripping movie I can remember seeing. I cannot remember who I felt pity for more in this epic story, and even now, just the thought of it fills me with an uneasy feeling.

But it's not just the story; it's the ambience, which reaches a climax with a brilliant ending, accompanied by the tune of Clint Mansell's ever famous "Requiem" (the actual name apparently is "Lux Aeterna"), a tune that could make someone watching cartoons and eating candy to burst into tears.

This, is how movies should be made.

Runners up:
Buried (2010)
Million Dollay Baby (2004)

30 Day Movie Challenge: Day 2 & 3

2011-04-25T12:15:00.002+05:30

Not even one day into my own self-imposed challenge and I find myself slacking. It's been a busy weekend, and I haven't felt much like writing. But no excuses; onwards to day 2 and 3.

Day 02: Least Favourite Movie.

Now this is also open to a few interpretations: do I post the movie I dislike the most, or one of my favourites that I'm not too crazy about? I'm sticking with the former, and after careful consideration, the winner is: Batman & Robin (1997)

Wow. Where do I even begin. You probably know that I'm a huge Batman fan (hence the profile avatar), so perhaps this is a bit of a surprise. But then, how many of you have actually seen this movie? This was the big dagger that almost completely sank the franchise, before Nolan resurrected it with "Batman Begins". Headed by Joel Schumacher, who also directed the much better "Batman Forever" in 1995, this was supposed to be a more comic book take on the caped crusader. Little did we know, he was talking about colouring books, not graphic novels.

So, what did they do, after making three succesful Batman movies? They roped in George Clooney for Batman / Bruce Wayne, got Chris O'Donnel to reprise his role as Robin, and wrote in not one, but two villains into the script, along with a third addition to the cast - Batgirl.

On paper, this sounds fantastic. George Clooney? Even guys like George Clooney. Plus Arnold as Mr.Freeze? Who else could play an almost robotic super-character with so much skill and prior experience?

And then you add these four ladies into your movie:

Seriously. How could you screw this up?

Well, apparently you can.

What followed was a bizarre story involving Poison Ivy as a mental Uma Thurman, a disengaged George Clooney who seemed to have confused Bruce Wayne's character and George Clooney's real life, as well as an utterly useless Batgirl in Alicia Silverstone.

And then there were the costumes:

Are you kidding me?

I could go on and on about how Batman and Robin escape a plan by 'surfing' to the ground, or how Batman tries to woo Poison Ivy with his Bat-credit-card ("never leave the batcave without it"), but I think this trailer will make my point.

Runners up:
The Notebook
Every single one of those spoof movies ("Disaster Movie", "Epic Movie", "Scary Movie 1-infinity")

Day 03: A movie that makes you happy.

Pretty easy pick for me. Since I first saw this movie, I've been raving about how this is what I consider the best romantic comedy in the last few years. Forget the non-existent chemistry between almost all leading men and women in the genre these days (in "Twilight", Kirsten Stewart looks as interested in Robert Pattinson as Lady Gaga does in regular clothing), this is how it's done. I've always had a crush on Rachel McAdams, but she was her best in this movie. Great chemistry with Owen Wilson, and the comic timing of Vaughn, Wilson and Christopher Walken makes this a simply must see. Love watching this movie, always brings a smile to my face.

Yes, I'm talking about: Wedding Crashers (2005)

Runners up:
Tropic Thunder (2008)
Pirates Of The Caribbean: Curse of The Black Pearl (2003)

The 30 Day MOVIE Challenge

2011-04-21T13:28:00.004+05:30

Yes, I have succumbed to this accursed '30 day challenge' nonsense that has been going around Facebook and some blogs. However, since everyone seems to be doing the song challenge, I'm going to take a cue from 'who else but me' and modify it into my own '30 day movie challenge'.

The rules are simple, and here they are, based on the original 30 day song challenge rules:

day 01 - your favorite movie
day 02 - your least favorite movie
day 03 - a movie that makes you happy
day 04 - a movie that makes you sad
day 05 - a movie that reminds you of someone
day 06 - a movie that reminds you of somewhere
day 07 - a movie that reminds you of a certain event
day 08 - a movie that you know all the lines to (at least the famous ones)
day 09 - a movie that you can dance to
day 10 - a movie that makes you fall asleep
day 11 - a movie with your favourite actor/actress
day 12 - a movie with an actor/actress you hate
day 13 - a movie that is a guilty pleasure
day 14 - a movie that no one would expect you to love
day 15 - a movie that you relate to
day 16 - a movie that you used to love but now hate
day 17 - a movie that you see often on TV
day 18 - a movie that you wish they showed on TV
day 19 - a movie from your favorite director
day 20 - a movie that you watch when you’re angry
day 21 - a movie that you watch when you’re happy
day 22 - a movie that you watch when you’re sad
day 23 - a movie that makes you think of weddings and/or getting married
day 24 - a movie that makes you think of funerals and/or your death
day 25 - a movie that makes you laugh
day 26 - a movie that with your favourite soundtrack
day 27 - a movie that made you wish you could act
day 28 - a movie that makes you feel guilty
day 29 - a movie from your childhood
day 30 - your favorite movie at this time last year

SO, let's start with day 01: favourite movie.

Now, unlike everyone else who dodged this question while doing the song challenge, I'm not going to dance around and say "oh I have so many favourites" and change it to "favourite song/movie right now" (by the way, favourite song, all time, Foo Fighters - Best Of You, hands down, no doubt, next question please!). Favourite movie is favourite movie, all time, regardless.

And that has to be: Remember The Titans (2000)

Now this isn't the greatest movie of all time, and it isn't the movie I think is the best I've seen. However, there is something about this movie that makes me watch it over, and over, and over again. The story grips me all the time, right from the opening scene when Denzel leads the sombre looking football team in the graveyard, as the title "Remember The Titans" gently fades into the screen. Denzel has made better movies, there have been more gripping sports stories (Coach Carter), but when Coach Yoast (Will Patton) tells his team in the deciding minutes of the championship game "You make sure, they remember, forever, the night they played the Titans", I get goosebumps everytime.

There are other great moments in the movie, and all around I thought it was made really well. An easy movie on the brain, but it still brings so much.

Runners-up:
Batman Begins (2005)
Gladiator (2000)

Sick Sad Little World

2011-04-19T15:46:00.005+05:30

Recently I've been rather shocked at the stories I've heard. Just this morning I was reading about this site that allows teenage kids to post videos of themselves and become "e-famous" by being controversial, racy, explicit and even nude. A site monitored by a 31 year-old man who used to work in the porn industry, and who regularly incites his members against each other into trolling and making teens attack each other in public, video forums. Last year there was a video that went viral of 11 year old Jessi Slaughter (not her real name, obviously). She had grown rather infamous among her teen followers for her trolling, explicit videos and personal attacks. It got so bad (she attacked her 'haters' by saying "If you can't stop hating, you know what? I'll pop a glock in your mouth and make a brain slushy.") that somehow, people got hold of her personal information, real name and address, and started harrassing her, which led to a tear-filled video that went viral of her imploring her followers to leave her alone, while her parents raged in the background, and her father made loud, angry and ultimately desperate threats against this anonymous enemy.

Eleven years old.

Today the latest teen e-celebrity is 18 year old Kiki Kannibal, who has been an online presence since she was 13, with a MySpace profile. She posted suggestive and inappropriate (for her age) pictures of herself, and was soon famous on the Interwebs. She amassed friends, enemies, and death threats, before dating an older teen whom she met online. The teen allegedly raped her, and when the police sought to arrest him, he fell off a parking garage and died. Kiki and her traumatized family changed addresses, but she refused to leave her online persona behind. Now, she's 18, with two websites, a Youtube channel, twitter and tumblr account where she keeps in touch with her legion of rabid 'fans', still parading in outrageous outfits, still a 'celebrity'.

Eighteen years old.

A teenage girl we knew ran away with an older man, leaving behind a crushed single mother and a sibling. She lived under his roof for two years, bore him a child, was physically abused by him when he was drunk, and then died in the hospital due to injuries caused by a local 'doctor' who was performing an abortion on her with a sticks and tubes.

I'm told her mother didn't shed a tear at the funeral.

As we read these stories - and I'm sure this is nothing compared to what you may have stumbled across on the net - are you not alarmed at how quick we are to dismiss this? With a simple shrug and a 'tut-tut', we are able to move on without a second thought to what we have just read. Today, no one even remembers the name of the Austrian lady that was kidnapped and imprisoned in a basement by her father, who raped her for twenty years, fathering seven children by his own daughter, three of which would never see the sun till they were freed decades later.

Or even worse, we rationalise. It's not the child's fault, it's the parents. It's the internet. It's the websites. It's no ones fault, it's freedom of expression. It's not a crime, he/she wants the attention. They deserve the hate, the trauma. Who allowed her to buy those outfits? What kind of music was she listening to? What kind of movies was she watching?

Isn't this all besides the point?

The truth is, it's too late. As you read this, your brain is already filing this under 'yesterdays news', because sadly, we've become so numb to anyone's pain except our own. Right now, even if we knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone we knew was going through something similar to what I've posted above, there's a good chance not one of us would go that extra mile to try and help that person. Not one.

Myself included.

And perhaps that is the saddest thing of all.

Twenty Minute Posting: III

2011-04-17T20:00:00.000+05:30

First of all, let me wish everyone a very happy and prosperous Sinhala and Tamil new year!

Just like me, I am sure most of you readers in Sri Lanka have enjoyed a week of holidays, filled with festivities, fun and food. Just like me, I'm sure you are sad to see it end.

I'm not sure about you, but this break couldn't have come at a better time for me. I was dying for a break from it all, just to sit back and relax and not let my mind shift into any gear higher than "medium-slow". So as soon as I swiped my card at 530pm on Friday last week, I was in holiday mode; no waking up early, no work worries, no cooking, no shaving. Yes, I said it; no shaving.

While I'm sure all of you took trips all over the country, and some even out of the country, I was content to hibernate at home, gaming and downloading shows and movies at a mad rate. Of course, as per custom, the universe would naturally conspire against my meager attempts at happiness, so on Wednesday it sent a lightning bolt to fry the motherboard on my PC. Thanks, universe. Thanks.

Luckily I had my laptop, and with a few adjustments (switching to battery power at the slightest sign of rain) I managed to salvage some of my computer related 'goals' for the holidays. Then of course there was the food; Mom completely outdid herself in preparing some fine, fine cuisine on every single day for every single meal. From roast chicken to grilled fish to pizza to traditional Indian to - my mouth waters at the thought of it all, it was simply sublime.

Sadly, all good things come to an end, and as I shave off my glorious one week old beard, I'm just counting the hours before I must once again swipe in at work. In fact, as I look at the time now, I realise in exactly 12 hours I'll be at work. The sadness of it all.

Either way, my time is running out, and I hope all of you had a fantastic week. I'm sure Monday will bring around an extra bad case of Monday blues, so we'll all suffer through it together. Thank God I'll be off on Good Friday, so at least I'm being eased back into the 5 day work routine somewhat slowly.

Cheers all, and here's to a not-so-gloomy return to work tomorrow!

Twenty Minute Posting: II

2011-04-04T18:39:00.001+05:30

So, this is my second edition of the "twenty minute posting" routine I started a couple of weeks back. As you can tell, I've already slipped and missed last week's posting, but that's mainly because I had the busiest week and weekend in a long, long time. To cut a long story short, I agreed to play keyboards and sing for a friends band at a small function that he was a part of. However, as a result of some 'connections', what was supposed to be a one night gig turned into two additional shows at the Hilton and Galadari, on the same night!

As you can imagine, I'm pretty tired, with a total of 12 hours of sleep under my belt in the last 4 days. Do the math: I'm exhausted! But boy was it fun.

Which is why I'm really looking forward to the avurudhu (Sinhala/Tamil New Year) holidays next week. Counting weekends, it's a total 9 days to just relax and NOT have to travel anywhere by bus, car or meter trishaw. Home cooked food, TV, movies, gaming, never-ending trips to the fridge to steal some dessert.

Only, after calling my parents today, it seems that's NOT what they have in mind. No, my mom is planning on - you guessed it - going on a trip. "Can't be sitting at home and cooking for all of you only during those days no?", she says. Which sort of makes sense; she's probably as sick of cooking and household chores as I am of work, travelling and living out of a travel bag.

The frustration. On top of that, the parents want me to suggest a destination for our little excursion. How do I tell them that the only trek I want to take in the next week is the journey from my basement bedroom to the kitchen and back?

Wish me luck, dear readers.

Oh, These Times Are Hard..

2011-04-02T04:50:00.000+05:30

It's 430am right now, and I've had a great night out.

I'm sleepy, and I've been awake for roughly 22 hours.

I wanted to write an 'observation' on the Colombo night life, or night life in general.

Instead, I'm just going to share this.

Because. somehow, there is a special kind of beauty in this song.

Peace.

G

No Room For Patriotism In Sport

2011-03-30T19:54:00.006+05:30

As I type this post, there are a billion and a few people hunched over the tv sets, radios, and computers, watching and listening to the India versus Pakistan World Cup semi-final match, in Mohali. A few lucky thousands are actually at the ground, no doubt waving flags and banners, shouting slogans, singing songs, and cheering what is easily the most anticipated match of the tournament so far, a clash between not just two sides, but two nations with a long, chequered history between them, both on the field and off.

The build up to the match has been huge, and though I do not meet any Indians or Pakistanis at work, my social networks are buzzing with all the taunts and barbs going back and forth. Yet, out of the smoke and gunfire, I noticed an interesting trend where one or two Indians were supporting Pakistan, the 'dreaded enemy'.

This naturally drew the ire of many Indian supporters, who either a) threatened bodily harm to said offender b) labelled him/her a traitor or c) attempted to change their mind.. by threatening bodily harm to them. It was an interesting exchange, as some either had no reason for supporting the boys from across the border, while others simply thought they were a better team, and still others didn't want people being tied to their TV sets on a Saturday night.

I found all this rather amusing, because being a Sri Lankan, we don't have any real hardcore, in-the-blood-and-genes type rivalries to speak of. The closest we have is against Australia, but then who doesn't hate the Australian team and want to beat them at every chance? If you have been following fellow Sri Lankan blogger Pseudorandom's blogs and/or tweets, you will have read her rather well-documented story of dealing with criticism for cheering for both England and Sri Lanka when they played each other in the quarter finals. I don't necessarily agree with it all, but while hers is definitely a rather unique case, I think she makes one or two valid points.

Patriotism is a term that we love to use these days, and we throw it around loosely without really understanding what it means. When exactly does it apply?

When it comes to almost any sport, there is a lot of freedom of choice. Take for example, if I were to support Manchester City, Arsenal or Newcastle, no one could really argue against it. It's my inalienable right to support whoever I choose to, for whatever reasons I choose. I could support the Lakers because they have hot cheerleaders, or I could support the Red Sox because I like their name.

But when it comes to teams representing their country, do we really have that much of a choice? When I see anyone wearing the Sri Lankan colours, am I really able to say "Well, this other person is a better player, so I'll support that country instead"? When a team or player says they are playing for their country, do the countrymen have an option to say "well we didn't ask you to"? If we are allowed to choose who we support when it comes to national sport, do the competitors get to choose which country they'd like to represent?

Of course, these are all my personal views, and I cannot fathom all the many individual reasons that people may have for not supporting their national team. Sometimes its as simple as "I don't like the sport, so I don't really care". But while I believe 'patriotism' is not a term that should be associated with national sport, and that at the end of the day, it's still just a game, perhaps we need to re-evaluate what it means to "play for one's country", instead of simply being a fair-weather fan when it suits us. Or filling up stadiums just because the other team is 'the enemy'.

Is Today The Day The Music Died?

2011-03-28T15:00:00.001+05:30

Music these days isn't working for me. Just the other day I spent three hours driving to Colombo while switching between Rick Dee's Weekly Top 40 and the American Top 40 radio shows, and I was really surprised at how plastic so many of the songs felt. Ke$ha almost personifies this trend; someone who can't really sing, has no real musical variety (all the songs involve getting drunk, partyin', partyin' harder, a bit of sex here, more partyin') but who knows how to make music that will play in clubs and will sell on iTunes. I'll admit, some of her stuff is catchy, but will I remember it ten years from now or request it on the 'golden oldies' show in twenty years? I don't think so.

Then there's the Black Eyed Peas, who have somehow become awful overnight. And the now-serious Linkin Park, who have recorded a song with reggae vibes. Then there's some new collaboration between Akon, Pitbull, T-Pain, Li'l Wayne, Keshia Cole, Kanye West, Keri Hilson, Timberland, Drake and Rihanna, every other week. Chris Brown singing "Yeah" not once, not twice, but "3X". Avril Lavigne telling us how all her life she's been good but now she's like, "what the hell?". I assume she had the same feelings towards actual song-writing too. Kim Kardashian ~~singing~~ auto-tuning something about - you guessed it - partyin'. Katy Perry with what is easily the most ridiculous set of lines strung together and labelled prose (outside of the infamous Rebecca Black disaster), about someone's love being "extra-terrestial". (At this point I had to pull over for a minute to just scream in agony before I could resume my drive).

Normally I don't pay too much attention to lyrics, but lately with all the music that's on the charts I'm thinking that perhaps that's what is missing in music these days. Good music carries with it a message and a meaning, and you can't auto-tune or digitally add that onto a song.

Which is why I love what Jon Foreman, frontman of the band Switchfoot, did over the weekend. One of the many artists active on Twitter (I love his bio - "I play music in bands called switchfoot, and fiction family. I am grateful to be alive"), Jon asked his followers a simple question - "if you wrote a song tomorrow, what would the tune be called?"

Here is the seqence of tweets.

Click to see the full size image

Click to have a listen!

Click to check out all 125 song lyrics submitted

I thought it was a fantastic idea; so much so that if I had known about it (I was off twitter for the weekend) I may have even tried my hand at it myself.

Who knows, perhaps it's things like these that can inspire new artists to really give us some music that our generation can be proud of.

Twenty Minute Posting

2011-03-25T16:55:00.000+05:30

In an effort to keep my blog active, I've decided to start a new 'thang' here at Darkside Daily. Every week, I'll be posting one 'Twenty Minute Post'. The objective is simple and rather self-explanatory - write a post, any post, in twenty minutes or less and post it.

While this may seem rather simple to most, you probably don't know how much thought I put into a blog post. I mean, I literally agonise over them for days, sometimes even weeks; something you probably wouldn't be able to tell from the writing unfortunately.

Either way, I doubt these posts will have any general direction, rather, they'll most likely just be a memory dump; a little space where whatever is in my head comes crashing out.

And just like that, I've only got 12 minutes left...!

Can't wait to go home today, after two weeks away due to work and pleasure (it wasn't as glamorous as it sounds). I remember back when I was in school, I used to be terrified to return home. Well, perhaps terrified is too strong a word, but I definitely did not look forward to it. I didn't know it at the time, but this was more due to my strange and fragile nature. Yes, 'fragile'. I was a kid who didn't know how to handle situations. All I had was my stubborn streak of bulldozing through whatever trials, emotional or otherwise, that came in my way. It is, fortunately (or unfortunately), a trait I still carry to this day.

Nine minutes to go...!

It's strange how things change. When you're in your teens you always think, "I'll never change, I'll always be this way, I won't become like my parents or adult friends". We really do think we'll live forever, though more in our thinking rather than in actuality. And yet, here I am, and I see my life in such a different light. My family, my life, my choices, my dreams - they look so much different now than they did a mere 5, 6 years ago.

Final four minutes...!

I guess what I'm trying to say is...

I'm glad I changed.

Have a great weekend, readers.

The Brilliant "Black Swan"

2011-03-22T15:54:00.000+05:30

At long last, I finally caught up on some of the Oscar movies of 2011. It's been a disappointing year so far with regards to movies, as almost every 'underdog' at the box office has been plain terrible. The best of the lot so far have been either big budget movies or movies with A-list stars.

(Let me just add as an aside that, after watching "The Green Hornet", I think it's safe to assume that neither Seth Rogen or Cameron Diaz are A-listers.)

Needless to say, I was thrilled when I finally got my hands on some movies that had created a buzz at the box office recently. There was Mark Wahlberg's "The Fighter", Jason Statham's trademark action flick "The Mechanic", and Aronofsky's intense "Black Swan".

I'm not going to write a review here, because you really have to go see "Black Swan" for yourself. The thing about this movie was that it was one of those stories that somehow dragged me into it and made me feel like I was more than just a casual observer. The last time I had felt that way was during Inception and The Dark Knight. While "Black Swan" isn't a story of another fictious world, it does transport you to this other life where dance, music and the stage are all so much larger than life, and it does it so well that I am almost as anxious as Nina (Natalie Portman) regarding her role in the performance, and almost as terrified as she appears when things start spiraling out of control.

Make no mistake, this is not a 'dance movie'. It is terribly unsettling and unnervingly creepy, as the viewer is taken along this rather disturbing rollercoaster ride that climaxes in a brilliant final sequence in the movie. Natalie Portman does a great job, as does Mila Kunis, and even though I had an inkling of where the story was going, even I was not prepared for the way things turned out.

I was so enamoured with the movie that I dug up some trivia on the movie, and thought I'd share a few. Some of the facts, especially regarding Natalie Portman's injuries and preparation, lead me to believe that she was indeed a worthy winner of Best Actress at both the Golden Globes and the Oscars.

=> The script took around ten years to make it to the screen.

=> Mila Kunis was brought into the project after co-star Natalie Portman suggested her to director Darren Aronofsky. Kunis had a video chat with Aronofsky via Skype and got the role without officially auditioning.

=> Natalie Portman lost 20 pounds to look more like a ballerina.

=> The budget on this film was so tight that when star Natalie Portman had a rib dislocated during a lift and she called the producer for help. She was told that the budget was so low they had no medic. She stated that if they needed to cut items from the budget they could take away her trailer, instead of the medic. The next day her trailer was gone.

=> The soundtrack, composed by Clint Mansell is a variation on Tchaikovsky's "Swan Lake" ballet, but played backwards and in a distorted manner.

=> Natalie Portman hit her head during the filming of one scene, sustaining a bad concussion that required an MRI.

=> Due to a dislocated rib injury, Natalie Portman had to receive physical therapy during filming. Portman is undergoing a real therapy session in one scene with Michelle Rodriguez, an actual physical therapist brought in by choreographer Benjamin Millepied. Director Darren Aronofsky told Portman to stay in character during the appointment so he could film and include the scene into the final cut.

=> Director Darren Aronofsky originally envisioned telling this story as part of the plot of "The Wrestler" (2008) and was actually developing a project that was about a love affair between a ballet dancer and a wrestler, but he realized pretty quickly that taking two worlds like wrestling and ballet was much too much for one movie.

Here's a trailer if you haven't seen it yet. Enjoy!

Whatever Women Can Do, Men Can Make Funner

2011-03-08T15:25:00.000+05:30

As I write this post, I am running through all the different ways in which I can get flamed for it. No doubt you all know that today is International Women's Day, and I'm sure, unlike me, you did not realise this via the #bootyappreciationday hashtag that was trending on Twitter today. Twitter; you got issues.

Either way, the work place is a-buzz with all the activity here, since a majority of our employees and staff are women. There are posters, banners, and motivational talks during the lunch hour. I love it. I am in fact a closet semi-feminist-on-the-weekends. Many intense conversations with several lovely and opinionated women have opened my eyes to understand that yes, maybe I was wrong about some of my assumptions before. Maybe women should be allowed to drive. How else would they get the groceries?

Now, I was curious to find out why we don't celebrate the male version of this day. Turns out, much to my surprise, there actually is an International Men's Day. But after reading its purpose, I was not enthused. Surely, shouldn't Men's Day be more, well, fun? Enter my imaginary parallel universe..

I can imagine it now. As the work day starts, men enter their work places after 11am, in shorts and t-shirts, as the dress-code is repealed for a day. Sports radio is pumped on the PA system, and TV's are installed at every cooler playing old cricket/football replays. Toilet seats in all washrooms in the office are set to the upright position. Lunch comprises of every fattening unhealthy carbohydrate filled food on the planet, along with pitchers of beer. An overhead projector is set up in the conference room to play inspirational movies such as "The Godfather", "Good Fellas" and "Rambo". ~~Charlie Sheen is invited to speak.~~

Of course, the ladies are not left out of the celebration. It will be customary for men to take their spouses and/or girlfriends to dinner and dancing, but not before they have taken him to his favourite electronics and sports stores, where he can spend hours deciding between Blu-ray and 3D support, 48" inch plasma or LCD, Man U or Barcelona, trainers or basketball kicks. Also, it is customary that all stores and restaurants refuse to accept credit cards from male patrons, and furthermore, men get into clubs free for the night while women have to pay cover.

What can I say, dear readers: I have a dream.

Now, please rise for the Anthem of Manhood.

note: To you readers who think this is written in seriousness - well, sucks to be you

Movie Magic: Where Has It Gone?

2011-02-24T16:40:00.001+05:30

I have gained somewhat of a reputation for being a movie buff over the years, something that my work-mates take advantage of by borrowing from my rather small but well-maintained library. I enjoy sharing my collection, but of late there has been a sharp drop in, well, distribution. This can be traced directly to the reduction in the number of movie downloads I make of late, and this can be traced to the drop in the number of good movies being released of late.

The last decade or so have belonged to the 'franchise movies'; movies that are part of a series, book or comic adaption. Studios these days are all looking for the next big thing they can launch not just one, but two, three or four movies from. So we have the Spiderman franchise, X-men, Christopher Nolan's Batman, the Pirates of the Caribbean franchise, Transformers, LOTR, Harry Potter, Twilight; the list goes on. These are the big movies that will define the decade, along with a few dotted 'restarts' from old hits such as Die Hard, Terminator, Star Wars, Rambo and Rocky.

While this can be sort of awesome in some cases, more often than not we are left with movies that are good fun for about 2 hours and then we never watch them again. The Pirates of the Caribbean franchise is one such tale; I loved the movies, loved Johnny Depp, but I'm sure I've only watched each movie once. Of course, this form of movie making 'strategy' leads to ridiculous sequels such as the Big Momma's House 'franchise' (can you believe that's a 'franchise'??) and the beyond terrible Nutty Professor movies.

It's rare to find a gem these days amongst all the commercialised made-for-money-and-action-figures movies that are doing the rounds out there. The lucky few often don't get the hype or excitement that the big blockbusters do. Heck, these days all you need is an adolescent pop singer with cockerspaniel on his head to star in your 'documentary' and you've got yourself a guaranteed big opening.

Don't get me wrong: I love a fun movie. I'm actually looking forward to 'Transformers 3', simply because Michael Bay surely can't make a movie worse than the last one (who am I kidding; someone say Rosie. Huntington. Whiteley). Let's not forget 'Thor' and 'Captain America'; all fun, summer blockbusters, but all built towards that franchise mentality in mind. But sometimes, fun equals ridiculous. Take for example, 'The Green Hornet', which I had the misfortune to see recently. It was a toss-up between that and 'Season of The Witch', some movie with Nicholas Cage and witches. Amazingly, this was still not enough to sway me either way, so I went to imdb.com, which graded the 'Green Hornet' with a respectable 6.5 over 'Seasons' 5.5.

In hindsight, I should have known better. I mean, Seth Rogen as a superhero?? Come on, Seth Rogen hooking up with Katherine Heigl was a huge stretch for an audience to accept, but seriously; Seth Rogen as a superhero?? That was clearly pushing it too far. Not even funky martial arts, Cameron Diaz's extreme blondeness and cool gadgets could save this movie, which was as entertaining as ~~the cricket World Cup matches so far~~ a Pitbull music video without girls.

So as I settle for watching reruns of Entourage and discovering new TV shows to fill my time, I wait anxiously for this years breakout movie that doesn't have a ambigious ending that could leads to a sequel; a movie that isn't a re-imagination of some 90's classic, or another animated comedy with a feel good ending. Come on, Hollywood, dazzle me with something original that will proudly stand alongside other classics like Pulp Fiction, Fight Club, Memento, Se7en and last years Inception. Make me believe in the magic of cinema again, and not the magic of some bespectacled teenager. Take me to a place I've never been before.

And give me something to burn to DVD.

Evolution And Eating

2011-02-16T10:25:00.001+05:30

What is it about growing up that makes us increasingly more rebellious towards our parents? It's a tale as old as time; child grows up as the darling of the family before puberty triggers repressed rebellion he/she never even knew he/she had (this is however not applicable to kids without siblings; they're 9 times out of 10 forever ensconced in their parents collective ~~womb~~ bosom).

Why is this though? Is it some remnant of evolution, wherein we are genetically programmed to not function with our parents to ensure we leave the nest/hive/tree once we become adults?

As much as I love my quirky and semi-dysfunctional family, recently there are certain activities that I can only get through if I bite my tongue into submission or if I trick myself into thinking it's some form of survival test. Chief among these is the dreaded 'family meal out'. Please, join me, as we run through one together.

1. Where?

The first hurdle is always: where to eat. This is usually preceded by the "shall we have dinner/lunch out?" argument, where both parents argue about whether to do it or not, and whether there is food in the fridge that "needs to be finished first". Of course, since that argument usually ends in a stalemate, the two sons are involved, and as usual, we don't really care either way. Somehow, we make it all the way to the car, and then start deciding on a venue. The choices vary in number, depending on whether we're in Kandy or not (Kandy = 3-4 options. Elsewhere on the planet = infinitely more), but in actuality, the choices are limited to a) places we've already been to and b) random newspaper clipping/flyer discovered by Mom. Once we went to a place that Mom had found in a (very) old newspaper clipping, only to find that place had been closed down 6 months previously and been replaced with a dry cleaners. And then we went to KFC.

2. What to order?

Once we've made it to a venue that is agreeable to all, we sit down and begin the hardest part of the evening: ordering. Be it a fast food joint, Italian, Sri Lankan, Indian or Chinese, no one can agree on what to order. Bro wants something ridiculous. I convince him against it. Mom wants something small and healthy. No such item exists on the menu. Dad is usually the best; he sticks to something safe, with the odd experimentation (he once ordered a Birizza at Pizza Hut. That didn't go well). If rice or noodle portions are involved, the waiter gets involved with us to figure just how many portions the four of us really need, taking into account how we all eat differently. After that mathematical calculation is done ("bring one big plate and two small plates with a little extra on each...") we wait. Anxiously.

3. The eating.

The food always arrives a tad bit late, and more often than not, it doesn't look like the picture. No, not the picture in the menu (it never looks like that) but the picture in our heads. Comments are made. Noses are wrinkled. Prices from other restaurants are stated and compared. Sighs are uttered. Eyes are rolled. And then the waiter leaves the table, awkwardly. I always ask the parents, why do they make all these comments while we're still at the restaurant?? They simply don't realise it. And if the food is bad, heaven help the person that suggested we eat here in the first place instead of going to the other place that someone else wanted to go to all along...

4. The dessert.

This is really dependant on the meal. Sometimes, if the meal is bad, we don't get the luxury of picking dessert, just in case the dessert is of the same (low) standard. Which is sad, because Dad loves him some ice cream, but he'll only have one if either Bro or I are having too. I think this minimizes the power of the disapproving look from Mom. However, by this time, I'm already begging for the bill so we can bail.

And so, another eventful meal comes to an end. The thing is, I'm not really sure whether it is the family that has become more picky and annoying over the years, or whether it's just me not being able to put up with their usual idiosyncrasies. Perhaps I just got used to going out with my friends, during my college years and when I started working, who were a lot less likely to grumble and complain about eating in a restaurant, given that the alternatives were either to eat in the canteen or cook for ourselves. Whatever it may be, all I know is that as much as I love spending time at home and with the family, this is one of the small things that really make me want to flip the final switch of rebellion and demand my own place.

And don't even get me started on travelling with my family....!

Do You Understand The Words Coming Outta My Mouth?

2011-02-07T16:23:00.000+05:30

It's one of those days at work where no explanation is required as to why everyone hates Mondays. The long weekend has only served to increase the workload for Monday morning, and the pending issues from last week require darker shades of red highlighter on them. Add to that the sudden frenzy within our departments to get budgets approved by ye finance gods, and I literally don't know where to look.

So it's only natural I suppose that I sit down and try to blog.

Today has been one of the busiest days of the year for me so far, fielding calls from so many different offices, clients, and of course my superiors. On top of that I am trying to schedule meetings in Colombo, plus get out of a presentation to the board that was thrust upon me, as well as justify the company spending close to Rs. 100 million on us to - wait for it - save money.

Amidst all this chaos, I find myself getting beyond frustrated at people's inability to communicate clearly. Emails are vague and abrubpt. Calls are dodgy and unclear. Data sheets are incomplete and flooded with typos, leaving it up to the reader to discern what is what. I mean, seriously, who spells "Tonne" as TUN?!

But communication problems are not only at the workplace. No, they are generally the root cause of all strife, be it financial, logical or personal. Those of you who know me personally know that I am not the easiest person to get along with. My rather notorious temper has gotten the best of me time and again, despite my valiant efforts to tame it (or at least render it mute!). My moody-broodiness does not translate well either, giving people the impression that I am sulking in a corner, contemplating the most painful way to die, when more often than not I'm just very, very ~~tired~~ hungry.

I suppose I could blame it on the email and Facebook generation, that sends wedding invitations through Facebook 'event invites' and shares intimate personal information with the click of a check box or two. I suppose I could blame it on people that find it easier to express how they feel in some vague pseudo-intellectual 'status message' or some incoherent babbling via an anonymous blog, rather than to open their mouth and speak to someone face to face.

Or, I could blame it on myself, and realise that perhaps I really just don't know how to communicate to people.

Yes, sadly that sounds rather likely. Help, anyone?

Generation Zero (Or, How Piracy Killed The Pirates)

2011-01-17T15:30:00.004+05:30

It is yet another glorious Monday morning, and I am 'busy' at work, staring importantly at my laptop while clicking furiously away with my mouse, all the while keeping my fingers on the Alt + Tab keys to switch between my work spreadsheets, Twitter and the live Spurs versus Nuggets game on ESPN.

We all have our ways of wasting time at work or school, but somehow we seem to have lost the romance of it all. Gone are the days where men would sit back with their feet on the desk, nonchalantly reading the newspaper while keeping a watchful eye on the boss' office door, should he suddenly appear from his one millionth 'meeting' with his secretary. Gone too are the days when kids would pass handwritten notes between each other, filled with witty reworkings of the teachers lecture, juicy real or imagined gossip, or amusingly accurate caricatures of classmates and staff.

No, today's classroom rebels are rebelling silently, or at worst, to the sound of their fingers on their cell phone keys, and the workplace outlaws are sticking it to The Man by using the office internet for Facebook or YouTube.

In a generation as technologically advanced as ours, shouldn't we be able to find more 'advanced' ways of beating the system than by browsing a social network site? In a classic case of them vs us, the powers that be are banning a website with the same aggression that is used to ban office workers from lighting a joint in the back room. Heck, our modern-day 'pirates' look more like Jack Black rather than Jack Sparrow, sitting behind anonymous computers in their mothers basements, somewhere in Scandinavia, while 'smuggling' music and movies online in broad daylight.

It's all really pathetic.

I have nothing but love for YouTube, which brings me all forms of entertainment when I need it, but I don't get this so-called addiction to Facebook. Sure, I'm on Facebook, and I have been for years. Sure, I upload photos every now and then. Why yes, I log on at least once every day. But addicted?? It baffles me. I spend a maximum of 5 mins online at a time on Facebook; after all, it takes the average person about a second and a half to read someones status update, and multiply that by the number of people that show up on your newsfeed, that gives you what, like, a minute? Unless you're one of those carebears that loves each and every single person on your friends list equally and feel it necessary to go through each one of their updates. If that person is you, you crazy. 'Nuff said.

But again I say: addicted?? Of course, there's the small matter of these farm related games that everyone goes on about. Fascinating, really, how we've suddenly taken such an interest in cattle, livestock and produce. Fascinating and confounding. Personally, I'd be more excited about it if my clicks actually meant there was a little man in some god-forsaken village who went about planting and harvesting stuff based on what I did, but that's just me I suppose.

But, and again I say, addicted??? Apparently people like going through everyone elses pictures and photo albums, performing what I like to call 'legal stalking'. Again, I can understand the fascination with this, but how long could this last? Most people leave the most redundant and pointless comments on Facebook. My personal favourites are the barely literate "Gd job machan, proud of u, keep up the good wrk!!". The dude is standing next to a fountain. He didn't build the damn thing, so I don't know what "gd work" he's talking about, and I don't know why he's proud that his friend is standing next to a source of water getting his hair sprinkled, but to each his/her own.

Bottom line: we need a serious injection of bad-assery in our generation. I vote for everyone to step away from their computers and start living outside our little cyber worlds. If that's too much to ask, then fine, take cyber-terrorism as a hobby, followed with a dash of fraud and inter-school embezzelment for the kiddies.

Eleven Days Into Twenty-Eleven..

2011-01-11T21:08:00.000+05:30

As I type this post, it is 830pm on the 11th of 2011. I suppose if I wanted to make it more dramatic I would have waited till 11:11:11 or something, but it's been a long day and I will probably be under my sheets then, vainly attempting to shove aside the thoughts of work tomorrow.

Perhaps it's too early in the year to write a progress report on the new decade, yet I am rarely in the mood to properly blog these days, and when these moments come along where I find myself with the time and the motivation to write, I feel I should 'grab on with both hands'. So here I am, reaching for my work laptop, propping myself up on the bed, about to regale you with what this year has been so far.

Of course, I could ramble on and on about 'change', and 'life', and 'the future', and all these other vague yet intellectual ideas that one usually associates with the new year. 'New beginnings' are aplenty in the month of January, along with the hackneyed 'new leaf'. Yes, the first month, and the first few weeks especially, are characterised by that magical pixie dust that forces the world in general to become a better something.

I do not fully understand why people are in such a rush to change things these days. It's almost as if we have started moving so fast that staying constant is just something that is not done. We change our thoughts, ideas and perceptions faster than John Mayer can dump a beautful blonde celebrity. Change is 'in'; Same is 'old'.

As I watch everyone attempt (and mostly fail) at becoming a new person this year, I find myself in the odd position of trying to stay the same; a task I find infinitely harder. I admire those who can identify areas in their life that needs to adapt and evolve, yet it is a rare phenomenon. Most people want to change simply because it is easy, or because someone else said they should. As for me, I feel like I'm looking in the mirror, and watching as ever so subtly, my skin begins to fade, my hair begins to thin, and eyes beging to glaze over. No, I'm not growing old, but I am being forced into 'turning', ever so slowly, just like everyone else.

I'm tempted to write something deep like "change is constant", or "we are all one consciousness", but that would just be lame and pretentious. I am known (I think) for my dramatic nature, and I have often written about 'fighting' for life and what you believe in, mostly to the smirks and rolled eyes of my readers. But as much as I would like to depart from that line of thought and from using that phrase, I am forced to repeat the same, old, boring and repetitive thing again here.

I'm still fighting.

Bring on the next 354 days; I got all year.

If My 2010 Was A Michael Bay Movie (Or 'Happy New Year Everyone!')

2011-01-01T01:35:00.003+05:30

And before you know it, it's that time of year again. The Earth has gone done it's little trip round the sun, the seasons have passed, the decorations have come and gone again, and we are once again at the beginning of a brand spanking new year, full of endless possibility and promise. It seems like just yesterday I was heading to work in the early morning transport, cursing our employers for making us come into work on New Years Day to celebrate with our 'work family', albeit for only half a day; now, I'm 3 hours away from making sure I don't end up doing it all over again.

However, while last year had gone by faster than a Hollywood romance, it had been an extremely eventful year. Wow, what a year! If you made a movie of my 2010, it would be a Michael Bay movie.

Opening credits!

(This year will be good, it's going to be awesome! Been looking forward to this year all - err - year!)

Opening Scene!

(Alright, so far so good, I'm doing good, we're all fine, this is going to be awesome!)

Explosion!

(Whoa! Okay I didn't see that coming but yeah, that was awesome!)

Meaningless dialogue!

(Okay, I'm not quite sure what the point of this is but I'm okay with it, this is leading somewhere, right?)

HUGE Explosion!

(Um, okay that was very cool but wait this doesn't make sense...)

Dialogue trying to explain what just happened

(But I just saw that in the first movie, and there they said, I mean, how could this happen again? Haven't I seen something kinda similar before...?)

HUGE EXPLOSION! MEGAN FOX! RUNNING-JUMPING-FLYING-WHOA..!

(Yeah this is ridiculous, there better be a pause somewhere here...)

Dramatic pause, followed by somber music and attempts at acting

(Alright this can work, if they end it just right and...)

HUGE EXPLOSION X INFINITY! BAD GUYS DIE! HERO KISSES MEGAN FOX!

(Wait, what?)

END CREDITS

(What a total waste of time, I actually wish I was at work!)

To call my last year a rollercoaster would be a gross understatement. As I flip the page to 2011, I can only heave a sigh of relief that it's over and done with, and be grateful that whatever new mistakes I make don't have to be clubbed with the old ones anymore.

As I try to sleep with the sound of the odd firecracker still bursting outside, and the scandalous misadventures of T flooding my inbox, I'd like to wish everyone a kickass 2011. God knows, i'm sure we all could use one!

Peace!

Gehan

Bah Humbug

2010-12-24T16:50:00.004+05:30

And so it's Christmas (eve).

In all my years on this earth, Christmas Eve has always been a day that marked a) me enjoying my birthday loot of the previous day and b) the anticipation of the loot from the next day. Often people have asked me if I got combined 'economy' gifts since my birthday was just 2 days before Christmas, and I have snickered at the thought every time. No, I was lucky in that my generous parents indulged my childish greed.

Fast forward to the present, however, and I feel like something is missing.

I've just turned 26, and I am now looking back at what the average man considers to be a a little over a third of his time on this earth. While I have been known to brood often, I usually am able to go through the holiday season without mournful introspection. This year though has just been very, very different.

It's been a great month in many respects, but not such a great year. More than anything, I feel a sense of relief that it's over, and I can now mentally start a new leaf thanks to the new year. But then, isn't that the case every year? The new year resolutions, the promises, the hope and optimism for a better year to come?

I'm not quite sure why I feel very jaded about this season. Perhaps it's been the work, and the busy schedule I've had this month. Perhaps it's the lack of real family time, and the little time I've had at home being tainted with endless chores and duties for the family. Even now, we are busily clearing up the house for guests next week, and stressing over a plan to go to Nuwara Eliya and Colombo with them. All the while, I'm planning on making a fake excuse to stay at work and skip it all. I'd much rather be left alone.

I have often wondered how my parents are so nonchalant about their birthdays and christmas. Their non-interest in getting presents or treats was something I couldn't quite fathom when I was young, especially since I was usually so giddy with anticipation to dive under the tree and tear off whatever gift wrapping was in my way. Yet, perhaps they've just gotten tired of it all, for at the end of the day, they still had to work till the 23rd, they still had a house to maintain, bills to pay, and often, family to entertain. Perhaps, I now understand it.

Perhaps I'm going through something similar. I hope not.

Sleeping Awake

2010-12-13T17:45:00.002+05:30

Last month I (finally) watched 'Inception', and this morning I had a dream.

'Inception' is quite possibly (in my opinion) this decade's equivalent of 'The Matrix'; a stunning and mind-blowing story told in amazing fashion by Christopher Nolan. For those who haven't seen it yet, it tells the story of a group of people who steal ideas and information from others by entering their dreams and tricking their target's minds. I can't even describe it properly and do it justice, so I'm just going to link the imdb page here and you can watch the trailer below.

Take it from me, a really fantastic movie. Not since I saw 'Dark Knight' (coincidentally, another Nolan project) have I actually gone back and pondered over the storyline of a movie long after I had finished watching it.

And now, on to this morning. Today I reached our staff quarters a little earlier than usual, so I decided to take a power-nap before getting dressed for work. As is often the case with these short naps, it was filled with very realistic dreams.

One of them featured two of my very close friends from India, where I studied. Part of me knew it had to be a dream, and yet the rest of me was convinced that they had actually arrived at my work place to surprise me. One of them was my room-mate from college, and as can be expected, he looked exactly like he did back then, down to the terrible hair cut. My other friend was lounging on my bed the way he used to in hostel, reading something with that half-intellectual, half-amused smirk on his face, and for all intents and purposes it might as well have been 2005 all over again.

And then, I woke up.

As my eyes opened, and I took in the very real surroundings of my room, I realised two things: a) I was dreaming and b) I was, surprisingly, exceedingly upset about it. The power that dream had over me was amazing; it took me a good 3-5 seconds to get my head straight, and during that time I felt immense and very real disappointment.

I have no idea why those two featured in my dream, as I haven't spoken to or heard from them in years. Nothing in the recent past made me even think about them of late, and yet somehow my brain dug up those images from almost 6 years ago to replay in my unconscious mind, just like it was yesterday.

Something so random, and yet it got me thinking about the sheer processing power and untapped potential of the human brain, and its amazing ability to lift and destroy our mood, and as a result, our very lives. If it's true we use just 10% of our brains, imagine just how powerful we really are. In fact, the very act of imagining itself is an amazing feat in itself.

I guess I'll end with this; made famous from the movie 'Coach Carter', it's a quote from Marianne Wilson's book "A Return To Love".

"Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure."

Was This Necessary?

2010-12-03T07:53:00.006+05:30

While I'm sure none of my readers would find this worthy of a post, and in fact, most would find this highly amusing (it is quite clever isn't it?), my question is:

Was it necessary?

Happy Holidays.

Family Planning

2010-12-01T11:29:00.000+05:30

I'm sure I'm not the only one that stops and wonders "What were they thinking??" when coming across a very large family. I'm not talking about a 'family of five', mind you; I'm talking basketball team plus reserves. While I'm sure there are ways to handle such a large family, it just strikes me as being silly and inviting conflict more than anything else, especially these days. Some kid always ends up the favourite, and daddy always gives him the 'coat of many colours', and next thing you know his bro's be selling his ass to some tourists.

Raising a family is no laughing matter. It's something that, regrettably, crosses my mind every now and then, much to my own dismay. Perhaps I'm having a mid-twenties crisis; perhaps I just have too much free time. Whatever the reason, it is a legitimate reason for stress.

I mean, have you seen what the kids are doing these days?!

Lets face it; the kids aren't alright. They got issues, stemming from a smorgasbord of factors ranging from the petty to the pretty freaky, and no one can deny it. Naturally, we try to create safe environments for them, organise programmes to teach them it's in fact not a good idea to get knocked up in high school, that drugs and alcohol are only cool when both you and it are legal, and yet somehow, we've forgotten all about the parents.

Who's talking to them?

I am convinced that I would be a terrible father right now, simply because I just haven't experienced enough to qualify myself for the post. As I look at my own parents who, just like all parents, are great but far from perfect, I realise how much of thought and planning went ahead of both my brother's and my arrival into this world. I see how their experiences, both good and bad, have influenced the way they raised us. It's a fascinating study, one that only people who are as jobless as I am seem to notice these days.

But where do you learn about becoming a parent? What kind of life experience could possibly be relevant to the raising of an infant? Sure, there are books and studies on these things, but those are as helpful as googling how to ride a bike. Do our work and social lives really provide us with enlightenment towards being a better parent? Knowing how to organise a party or negotiate a deal or how to raise funds for a charity; all completely useless to a parent. My expertise lies in basketball. I hardly see how my knowledge of a pick-and-roll or a backdoor screen will be relevant at all. And no, none of those are related to sex, you pervert.

It's at this point that my mind freezes, turns to a blue screen and reboots.

I know this is a completely random post, and rest assured I am nowhere near the perils of becoming a parent. Yet, something for you, dear readers, to ponder on before you decide to bring a screaming miniature version of yourself into the world!

Living and Story-Telling

2010-11-22T12:29:00.002+05:30

Yes I'm still here.

Due to a sudden avalanche of work-related activity (notice how I didn't say 'work' per se) my return to blogging suffered a slight break from the internet. It's a shame, especially since there were many times when I felt the stirrings of a post but didn't have a laptop nearby.

Either way, it's been an eventful 3 weeks, and I feel I have made it out relatively unscathed. As I type that sentence out, I once again realise how 'survivalist' I sound. Honestly, I think I need a break from all this 'fighting' and 'surviving'. I just want to live for a while, no matter how teenage-angstish that may sound.

Recently we went out for dinner with some family friends. My father had schooled with him, and he regaled us with stories of all the mad things they did while in school to their lecturers and classmates, ranging from theft to forgery to faking suicide. It was all done in 'good humour' though, where the students often owned up to their pranks, unlike nowadays when students seem to commit pranks for a more sinister agenda. Many times I wanted to interject with some story of mine from school or college, but every time I had to stop myself because it just didn't fit. I wanted to tell the story of how some guys got caught smoking weed in the chapel at night while drinking arrack from the chapel chalices, or that time some kids broke into a lecturer's chambers to change their marks, only to be expelled a week later (the lecturer had a backup and just checked which grades were changed). But none of them seemed to be appropriate for the kind of humour that existed among students 'back in the day'.

As I sat there laughing by guts off at their stories, I wondered what kind of stories I'd tell when I was in my 60's, and whether I'd be able to tell them at all.

Rise

2010-11-02T15:19:00.003+05:30

~The Rise of a Planet II by 'taenaron~

It's been a while, hasn't it?

I haven't written a post in a long time, and I find myself struggling to start this one. I missed writing. When you write, you have time to read and review what you say, before putting it out for your audience to see. It is an advantage that I would dearly like to have with the spoken word, for I have lost count of the number of times I have spoken without intending to, or said something that ended up being taken in a way I had not intended.

There were two reasons why I stopped blogging:

1) I didn't enjoy it anymore.

My posts had turned so - gloomy - and no one likes a whiner. It was not just the content, it was also the quality. Whenever my mouse hovered over the 'publish' button, I could hear my older posts mocking my new one already. It just wasn't the same, and it somehow lacked that zing. I didn't want my blog to suddenly turn into a party-of-one-pity-party, the type I had often mocked 'back in the day'. It had to end.

2) It reminded me of how much had changed.

Perhaps the biggest reason was that I realised I was not the same person I was back when I started blogging. My blog constantly reminded me that there was a time when I was happier, and a lot less - poisonous. Had I changed so much? Had I let life's challenges rob me of my laughter, or had I been the one that decided to focus my efforts solely on survival rather than actually living?

Another reason, I suppose, was that I was increasingly distressed with what I felt was the general opinion of the blogosphere of me. This is not something I easily confess to, but honestly, due to several poor choices and bad judgement, I had perhaps built up a false persona of myself. One that was, maybe, much too close to the truth than I liked to admit.

Truth. What is the truth anyway? Is it what we say it is? Is it the general consensus, the acceptable norm? Is it a variable factor that is dependant on time, situation, place, person? If the truth is not constant, then what is?

I've learned that when people doubt you, question you or misjudge you, you only have one option, and that is to be honest. From now on, this blog will represent me as I am, whether you like what you see or not. Whether I like what I see or not.

Perhaps, the truth will set me free.

Goodbye, and Goodnight

2010-08-18T15:15:00.004+05:30

This will be my last post, for the forseeable future, if not ever.

(Like you care)

Cheers, God bless you all.

Gehan

The End

2010-08-06T01:24:00.003+05:30

In continuation of lyrical imagery, here is Pearl Jam with "The End".

I'll be quiet now.

"The End"

What were all those dreams we shared
those many years ago,
What were all those plans we made,
now left beside the road.
Behind us in the road.

More than friends, I always pledge,
cause friends, they come and go.
People change as does everything.
I wanted to grow old.
Just want to grow old.

Slide on next to me,
I'm just a human being.
I will take the blame, but just the same,
this is not me, you see, believe,
I'm better than this.
Don't leave me so cold.
I'm buried beneath the stones,
I just want to hold on and know I'm worth your love,
and I, I don't think, there's such a thing.

It's my fault now, I've been caught,
a sickness in my bones.
How it pains to leave you here
with the kids on your own.
Just don't let me go.

Help me see myself,
Cause I can no longer tell,
Looking up from inside of the bottom of a well,
it's hell, I yell, but no one hears before, I disappear,
whisper in my ear.
Give me something to echo in my unknown future,
you see, my dear, the end, comes near, I'm here,
but not much longer.

Motorcycle Drive By

2010-08-01T22:05:00.004+05:30

I remember the first time I heard this song was back in the winter(?) of 2001, during my first semester in college. My friend S had a fantastic collection of alternative music, ranging from the Goo Goo Dolls to Nine Days and of course, Third Eye Blind.

I've always loved this song, for a variety of reasons. I really wish I had the vocal ability to do justice to is but I definitely can't (trust me I've tried).

I just stumbled across the lyrics today for some reason, and I just love the imagery it paints in my head. It's just so.. vivid. I don't want to write more; just click play, and read along.

Let me know what you see.

Have a great week guys. Cheers!

G

Motorcycle Drive By - Third Eye Blind

Summer time and the wind is blowing outside
in lower Chelsea
And I don't know what I'm doing in this city
The sun is always in my eyes
It crashes through the windows
And I'm sleeping on the couch
When I came to visit you
That's when I knew
That I could never have you
I knew that before you did
Still I'm the one who's stupid

And there's this burning
Like there's always been
I've never been so alone
And I've
Never been so alive

Visions of you on a motorcycle drive by
The cigarette ash flies in your eyes and you don't mind
you smile
And say the world it doesn't fit with you
I don't believe you
You're so serene
Careening through the universe
Your axis on a tilt
You're guiltless and free
I hope you take a piece of me with you

And there's things I'd like to do
That you don't believe in
I would like to build something
But you'll never see it happen
And there's this burning
Like there's always been
I've never been so alone
And I've
I've never been so alive

And there's this burning
There is this burning
(yeaa)

Where's the soul I want to know
New York City is evil
The surface is everything
But I could never do that
Someone would see through that
And this is the last time
We'll be friends again
And I'll get over you
And you'll wonder who I am
And there's this burning,
Just like there's always been
I've never been so alone, alone
And I've, and I've
I've never been so alive

So alive

I go home to the coast it starts to rain I paddle out on the water
Alone
Taste the salt and taste the pain
I'm not thinking of you again
Summer dies and swells rise
The sun goes down in my eyes
See this rolling wave
Darkly coming
To take me
Home

And I never been so alone
And I've never been so alive