The Internet Is Why We Can't Cure Cancer

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.

Generation Zero (Or, How Piracy Killed The Pirates)

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.

Garbage Time

*'Garbage Time' is a phrase used in basketball, which is used to describe the time towards the end of a game when the margin between the teams is so great, the remaining minutes in the game are inconsequential. Some players use this time to 'stuff' their stat sheets, scoring easy points while the opposing defences slack off.*


I haven't properly blogged in a long time, and I lay the blame firmly on my absolutely cursed luck with regards to the Internet. At work the Internet is restricted, and when I stay in Colombo at my uncle's, I can't come online often because he doesn't even have a connection, so I have to go across the street to his in-laws to check mail. Someone say awkward.

To solve this dilemma, I go and get a dongle, setup a package, and I’m all set for wireless Internet. Only problem is that despite having a Dialog tower literally 200m away from my house, I don’t get a good enough signal to even watch Youtube, thanks to some heavy foliage around our house. In fact all I get is the laboriously slow EDGE signal which means you're more likely to be hit in the head by a flying water buffalo than have a Skype conversation with someone.

Hence, I've decided to put together some random snippets of my rather happening life over the last month or so, just to fill in till I get back to my normal writing. I was very tempted to write an election related post, but I'm sure the blogosphere is already 'ringing' (pinging?) with arguments both praising and denouncing the results, so I'll just leave it to them and settle for more trivial topics.



The Demon Cat


During one of our back-to-back-to-back parties which we've had over the last couple of weeks (to keep with tradition of course), we had an unexpected guest in the form of a jet black straight-outta-Harry-Potter cat. While a few people fed the cat some scraps from dinner (and certain others planned on getting it drunk) there were others who were extremely freaked out by this slinking bearer of bad luck. We were almost done convincing these people that superstitions of the sort were totally ridiculous when the cat, which had upto that point been playfully rubbing itself against people's ankles like any normal house cat, decided to turn 'jungle cat' and promptly bit someone.

Several cries of murder later, we took the guy to the hospital and what ensued was a thorough anti-rabies course that would convince most animal lovers to change their mind instantly. However, despite finding out later that the cat had only bitten him because he had unknowingly stepped on it in the dark, the only conclusion that was reached after this incident was that the cat was possessed. I kid you not, 'possessed'! Apparently paranormal activity was quite common in our housing scheme, with several inhabitants adding their own bits to the already rather elaborate 'ghost stories' and some even refusing to stay in certain houses which were considered more 'haunted' than the rest.

Morale of the story: animal cruelty only applies if the victim is not related to the spirit world; else please make sure you have some ectoplasm nearby. Else, well, 'who you gonna call'?

Facebook Drama

The problem with social networking is that it inevitably emulates the issues and problems of real-world society. St.Fallen wrote a very interesting post regarding a conversation that he encountered on Facebook, but what I observed was on a slightly different line. One of the strangest things that I've noticed about Facebook is it's privacy settings. It seems like every month they introduce more settings to control who sees what on your profile, or how public your information really is.

But doesn't that go against the very principle of a social networking site? Isn't the sole purpose of such a site to, well, 'socialize'?

By creating these little groups on Facebook, we only encourage the type of internet misdemeanours that we hear about all the time. You see, if we didn't have any of these security settings and groupings, we'd be forced to upload pictures and information that we were actually ok with sharing. What has happened now is a culture where we upload things that not everyone should be seeing, yet we hide behind the security settings and barriers of Facebook to protect us from the consequences of our disclosure. Yet, more often than not, something goes wrong somewhere and those scandalous pictures of you and that random boy you were grinding with turn up on in your boyfriend's inbox. Surprise, surprise, boo hoo, hate to say I told you so.

Loo Logistics

There should be rules and regulations to prevent that awkward exchange of greeting when you bump into someone in the loo. Too often I run into a colleague just as he's zipping up or I'm - err - zipping down. Then we're forced to either nod and make some sound of acknowledgement, or we just ignore them completely which is just awkward. Then there's the moment when we're both at the sink washing up and trying to make polite conversation, yet have you noticed how strange any conversation is when you're having it in a bathroom?

He: Hey there.

Me: Hi.

He: So, [says something work related]

[sound of flush in the background]

Me: Err, yeah, I'll get right on it. ["I just got work delegated to me in the toilet. Kill me now."]

or

Me: Hi.

He: Hey man!! What's going on? How are you?? [Holds out hand to shake]

Me: ...

[silence]

[sound of flush in the background]

[He silently withrdraws hand]

[Things are never the same again]

I could go on and on.

Hence I hereby decree: for the sake of male friendships around the world, there shall be no communication, no words exchanged, no eye contact or contact of any kind between parties in or around a 10metre radius of a men's bathroom.

The Darkside has spoken!

My Life According To Incubus

Surprisingly, I stumbled upon an interesting note-tag-thing on Facebook. It's rather simple; you're supposed to "cleverly answer" a set of questions using the song names of only one artist, without repeating song titles. While I cannot confirm the "cleverness" of my answers, I can at least demonstrate that this tagging business can actually be interesting rather than mundane and pointless.


Or perhaps not. Either way, enjoy, and have a pleasant Monday!

Pick Your Artist:
Incubus

Are you a male or female?
Redefine

Describe yourself:
Priceless

How do you feel:
Punch Drunk

Describe where you currently live:
Under My Umbrella

If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
Mexico

Your favourite form of transportation:
Paper Shoes

Your best friend(s) is/are:
Rogues

Your favourite colour is:
Blood On The Ground

What's the weather like?
The Warmth

Favourite time of day:
11am

If your life was a TV show, what would it be called:
Talk Shows On Mute

What is life to you:
Just A Phase

Your current relationship:
Nowhere Fast

Breaking up:
Love Hurts

Looking for:
Southern Girl

Wouldn’t mind:
A Kiss To Send Us Off

Your fear:
Agoraphobia

What is the best advice you have to give:
You Will Be A Hot Dancer

If you could change your name, you would change it to:
Zee Deveel!

Thought for the Day:
Beware! Criminal

How I would like to die:
Here In My Room

My motto:
A Crow Left Of The Murder

Life, Death and Michael Jackson

Friday was a mournful day in every sense of the word. There I was, seated with my head bowed; silent and reflective, as is often the case when someone is confronted with a death. I looked around, and I could see a similar emotion in the eyes of those around me. When Death rears his bony head, he doesn't just take the life of the victim, he sucks a little bit out from those around as well.

Apparently it had been a heart attack, but I was hazy on the details. The doctors had worked for an hour but had been unsuccessful, and just like that the world lost a father, a husband, a human being. One minute alive and well; the next - gone.


Perhaps you think this is yet another Michael Jackson post, but that's not entirely true. Michael Jackson comes a distant second in this post.


The man I was talking about in the first paragraph was the father of one of our youth group musicians. He was just 55 years old, and yet without warning he was taken from this world, leaving behind a wife and two children, 22 and 19. Of course, I doubt that anyone would be writing about his untimely demise in the papers, nor will there be much fanfare with regards to his life. The house I was seated in on Friday afternoon was small and dilapidated, situated in some interior lane beyond Kandy. Not exactly Hollywood, if you know what I mean.


The initial reaction to the news that Michael Jackson had died was so severe that apparently it almost 'broke' Google. The international media has been a relentless onslaught of MJ madness, discussing his life and death in agonising detail, interspersed with his many music videos. Kottu was a veritable online shrine to the 'king', with a few senseless anti-MJ posts thrown in as well. Facebook is no different either; apparently they have designed a quiz to determine which Michael Jackson song best represents your life. I can't wait for someone to get "Dirty Diana".


However, what struck me the most was the depth of emotion behind MJ's death. A man that was ridiculed for the better part of the last 15 years, that hadn't released new material in 6 years, that by no stretch of the imagination was hideously disfigured after an unknown number of nose jobs, and whose music was generally considered 'so yesterday' by the masses was mourned by nearly the entire world with people breaking down in tears on television, radio and public transport. Countless parodies in the media from music videos to movies, dangling babies from balconies, and topped by the ever present child molestation charges, Michael Jackson was a superstar with issues. He made great music, I'll give him that. After listening to Chris Cornell's version of Billie Jean, I realised what amazing lyrics were behind the song. The man was blessed, and it is a shame that such talent ended up wasting away like it did.





And then I dressed up and went to the funeral of a 'real' person. A father, a husband, a hard working man that worked 7 days a week from 7am to 8pm. A man who probably sacrificed his family life just so that he could earn enough to support them. And strangely, I saw no tears. I saw no sobbing, no weeping, no children laying wreaths all over the place. His children were naturally upset, but they were not crushed. His son was in a corner laughing with his friends, discussing who was going to remove the banner that was tied across their street. There were two little girls who were running around serving tea and biscuits, giggling and laughing like it was a social event.


Makes you wonder, what is this life for? When a man that you don't know beyond posters and news articles can generate such sorrow, such unmitigated depression in some cases, despite living a lifestyle that many (until Friday) considered shameful and embarrassing, and a man that slaved for his wife and children is buried with only some "onlookers" in attendance, leaving behind a family that hardly saw the man in the last so many years.


Makes you wonder.

Do Ya 'Thang!

Fact: life sucks; it always has. The real world is a ruthless, unforgiving jungle, where only the strong survive. Let your guard down for even a nano-second and you'll get steam-rolled by the relentless mob that is always trying to one-up you. However, we seem to have gotten it into our heads that this is simply a new trend, an effect of global warming or some sorts. Yet another unpleasant development which we can conveniently blame on the 'West'.


But, if all these evolutionary loonies like Darwin (not the blogger) are to be believed, we all evolved over a few quinta-billion years, or something. Yes, once we were nothing but some single-celled protoplasmic form with a name that rhymed with ABBA, bored to tears, going nowhere. Then one day, one brave soul tired of being just one of the 'blobs', broke from the pack, said "SHAZAM!" and poof! - T-Rex was born.


Today's world is no different, though the competition has become markedly more fierce. Which is why it is important to develop a 'thing'.


They say that humour/empathy/porn is what sets us apart from the animals, but what sets us apart from each other is a lot harder to pin down. See, unfortunately God did a great job of creating us all uniquely the same, hence as our lives unravel it's upto us to differentiate ourselves from the pack. Go for any interview these days and it's not so much about your qualifications as it is about how different you are from the ten other applicants before you. The same goes for one's social life; if you're not bringing anything unique to the table, chances are you'll be sitting alone at that table for a long time.


The same can be said in all walks of life really, even on Kottu. The Lankan blogosphere is littered with obscure blogs that don't really have a theme or a style that is unique to their writing, yet amongst the crowd there are a few memorable blogs. There's RD who is the 'old guy blogger' with his particular brand of humour. There's Kalusudda, who is the blogosphere's 'commentator'. There's Gypsy, the resident 'story-teller'. There are Mommy bloggers, there are poets, there are artists, and then there's Jerry, who's just weird.


As is in kottu, as is in life. Well, not really, but here it does. Being a part of the crowd is never fashionable, be it at work or at your friend's barbecue. Whether we're aware of it or not, we develop certain traits, sayings, speech patterns and sometimes even entire persona's solely to be remembered. In fact, I'm sure if you look at your own friends circle you will find that it comprises of different 'types' of people; one is the joker, the other is the serious guy, the next is the flirt, the next is the junkie, and so on. It's like those picture tag things on Facebook, where you tag friends that fit the cartoon - yes, Facebook, the social experimentation networking site indeed.


I guess what it boils down to, is how far do we go to be memorable? There are some that carry it to extremes for the attention (like 'he-who-should-not-be-named-for-fear-of-legal-action'), and some people that just enjoy being stereotyped. In a world where the rat-race has well and truly become the sole reason to be alive, people that don't have an extra edge, an X-factor so to speak, never succeed.


So what's your 'thing'?

Bits And Pieces

There have been a few things I have wanted to write about but they've all ended up as half-baked draft posts in my head. So, in an attempt to do some spring cleaning (a bit late for that, I know) I decided to just stick them all together in one big post and see what turns out.

---

The other day I saw an auto parked near our house, and it was being used by the SLT Breakdown Crew (or whatever they're called). It was painted light blue and had the SLT logo plastered all over it, plus the SLT Breakdown Boys (or whatever they're called) motto printed across the back.

SLT Breakdown Service. One Call Away.

Which got me thinking: if someones phone DOES pack up and die, how in the world are we supposed to call the Telephone Techies (or whatever they're called) in the first place?! 'One call away' may be one call too far!

---

I was in class and about to drift away with my eyes open when my lecturer said something rather off topic. We were discussing 'perception' and why it's important for Organisational Behaviour (see why I was drifting?) and somehow or the other we started talking about love. "When people look at things, they have to be able to classify it as a part of their mental model. If it doesn't fit, then it negatively affects our perception of it. That's why when we fall in love, we fall in love with people that are like us. Either they are similar in looks or in personality or some other way."


When I look back on my rather limited experiences in relationships, I must say that I don't agree in that respect. I don't think any of my ex's personalities were close to mine; at best, I might admit that in some cases they possessed traits that I wanted in myself. What about you? Have you ended up digging someone that had a similar thought pattern to yourself?


As for looks, if any of my ex's looked even remotely like me, I'd be beyond creeped out.....!

---

Apparently I have been tagged in this 5 words nonsense that's been doing the rounds. For those that don't know what I'm talking about, I'm supposed to write down 5 words that describe how I feel about the end of the war here. Righto, here goes:


1. Cynicism (I don't think we'll ever know the full story of what happened up north)

2. Nonchalance (Sadly, I must admit that the war hasn't affected me personally at all)

3. Relief (No more killing, no more bombs, no more fear)

4. Curiosity (Does this mean no more army checkpoints?!)

5. Annoyance (Another "Proud to be a Lankan Lion" Facebook invite and I'm going to migrate)

---

I feel I'm getting more than my money's worth at the gym here. Yes, I'm paying for using the weights and machines, but no one told me that between sets I would be entertained by the hourly aerobics classes! Now, I'm all in favour of people trying to get back in shape; in fact, I applaud the efforts of both young and old to do so despite how daunting the challenge may be at first. When I survey the crowd in the gym, I notice that the age bracket of those enrolled in the aerobics class is as wide as some of their - well, never mind.


But have you ever really watched people doing aerobics?!


While some of the exercises are rather rudimentary and expected, some of the steps are just awkward and the rest are plain bizarre! Expecting these - err - 'spherically blessed' individuals to kick out their legs sideways and touch their fingertips in an attempt to imitate a Russian folk dancer is just cruel in my opinion. Then there's the kick-boxing routines, and don't even get me started on the mat workouts! All in all the whole thing is reminiscent of a kindergarten kids drill, albeit minus the costumes and the pom-poms! And yet they come faithfully, day after day, week after week, waving their hands about with fervour and reaching for areas of their body that haven't been accessed in years, all the while performing the most ludicrous semi-dance moves to appalling karaoke music.


I salute their dedication, but at this rate I wouldn't be surprised to see them faithfully doing the Macarena the next time I visit the gym.

Face Value

As the days go by, the world is becoming more and more tech-savvy. At least, that's the term of choice nowadays, instead of admitting that we're all a bit mad. Yesterday we were drooling over the Blackberry and the iPhone, but today we are designing Blackberry's for kids; yes, a colourful handheld 'PDA style' toy for toddlers that thankfully doesn't connect to the internet. As if the youth of today needed any additional training in the art of text messaging - they basically shoot out of the womb with a wireless headset in their ear, and while in the past the doctor's were greeted by the sound of a baby crying they shouldn't be surprised if they now deliver a baby that's beeping. Exaggeration? Read this. This girl sent 14000 text messages in a month. I rest my case.


In fact, we've come to a place where little or no interaction is required for even the most mundane tasks. Even the age old customs of buying the groceries has now been replaced by the 'internet fridge', which basically allows us to sit in the kitchen and do absolutely nothing while men deliver random food items to your door without you asking for it. If only you didn't have to walk all the way to to the door to sign for it. Eureka!


With this shift that life has taken towards everything cordless, wireless, lossless and pointless, it's not uncommon to find ourselves with a sort of split personality, the online one which everyone sees and adores, and the real one which is a just a tad, well, blah. Sabby wrote an interesting post about blogging and anonymity, and I think it's relevant here.


But what I really want to point out is the paramount importance of the DP, also known as your Display Picture. Yes, it seems that while most of our interactions have now taken to the online format, there are still some people that like to see what you actually look like. I'm sure the tech nerds of all those little internet chat forums etc are still seething against this little detail, but thanks to the magic of photoshop and other such devices, hope is not lost.


See, appearances mean everything, as I wrote earlier. While it's true that most jobs still require a personal interview, the fact that you even got to that stage is at least partly due to that smart looking photograph on your resume. Yes, the one with the slight inclination, the soft toning, the twinkling eyes and in the case of the women (and some men unfortunately) the wind effect blowing your hair into formations that would make Pocahontas jealous. Who wouldn't want that kind of person working for them?


The same can be said for Facebook and other such social networking sites. Your profile pic is what makes or breaks you, especially if you're the type of person looking to meet people online. Don't have a good pic of yourself? No worries - a little sepia effect here, a little cropping there, a little blur effect around there, and voila! You're a movie star. It's also not so common knowledge that companies search for potential candidates names over these sites. So if you send in a crystal clear super glossy high class resume, with bells on, you probably might lose the job if they type your name in google and come up with that profile picture of you smoking a joint at the beach.


Which is why my profile picture is a carefully engineered picture of me just after Christmas service, with the right amount of shading and a slight fading out of the background. It's terribly fake, and my certain someone thought that I had some sort of a cloud behind my head (it was a white bag that had been blurred out), but hey - I want to get hired.


And even if my resume stinks, at least I have a pretty face!

Land of The Blind

As I’ve mentioned many times before, when I started blogging I had no real direction or purpose. I had no illusions of overnight fame or sudden world-wide recognition either. However, I must admit that somewhere in the dark recesses of my mind, I secretly hoped that people would actually LIKE what I wrote.

Yes, well, it’s safe to assume that those expectations have gone up in smoke. To date I have received numerous accusations, from the bizarre (“You need a girlfriend”) to the downright mean (“You’re so jobless, get a life. And a girlfriend”).

Not one to take such constructive criticism lightly, I decided to take appropriate measures to fix my flaws. After many failed attempts at acquiring a girlfriend (“Can we at least be friends? Can I just tell people that you’re my girlfriend? Please?? I write a blog by the way….”) I decided to attack the Sunday papers to remedy my ‘joblessness’.

Two hours, one crossword, several cartoons and a few magazines later, I reached the employment section. This is not my first time browsing through the employment section; it was through the papers that I landed my first job interview a long time ago. It was at an IT firm that was looking for ‘business development executives’. Despite my lack of experience in the field, based on the assurances of a ‘complete training’ by the ad and the fact that they actually called me for an interview, I decided to give it a shot. When I reached the address however, I found myself standing in front of a rather large floral shop. Convinced I had the wrong place (or that I was part of the most elaborate and original prank ever) I called the number from the paper. Well what do you know; the so-called ‘IT firm’ is actually located on the first floor of the floral shop, and in fact shared the waiting room (and receptionist) with them. So there I was, in my shirt and tie and shiny shoes, feeling like a complete idiot while being surrounded by anxious in-laws and even more anxious brides-to-be planning out their nuptials. When I was finally called up for my interview, the first question that I asked was which genius thought that this would be a prime location to attract IT clients. Apparently the founders of this ‘firm’ were also the founders of the floral shop. Talk about diverse interests. Amid assurances that it was a ‘temporary’ situation, we got on with the interview. It didn’t take me long to realise that they were slightly mad. It seems their idea of ‘business development executive’ was someone who would run the Kandy branch of their ‘IT firm’ from the Kandy branch of their floral shop. For a span of three full seconds, I envisioned myself as head honcho, running the entire branch, king of my castle; a castle of dandelions and roses. I couldn’t run away from the interview fast enough.

Needless to say, I resolved to be a bit more cautious while browsing the ads this time. Now, I’m not exactly a man with a host of qualifications. A degree, a diploma, no work experience but nice hair. Surely someone would want me. But evidently I was wrong. Most of the large firms and companies were looking for people to replace in key managerial positions, such as operations managers and technical and logistics managers. Such positions naturally warranted at least 5 years of experience, MBA’s, degrees in business and economics and financial management and god-knows-what-else. The technical vacancies were not promising either; apparently there is an insurmountable dearth of air condition specialists. Everyone from the Ports Authority to Pizza Hut was looking for one.

Not one to give up so easily, I continued on. After seriously considering joining the new Burger King in Saudi Arabia (“Free one way ticket included? Hmmm...”) I reached the jobs that did not need extensive work experience or a 101 degree’s in things I didn’t even know you could get a degree in. But here I was faced with a different dilemma; all the apprenticeships and trainee jobs were looking for school leavers! And this wasn’t just one or two ads; there was a whole host of companies offering rather attractive job opportunities to high school drop-outs. All of a sudden I find myself in the rather awkward position of being over-qualified. Me, over-qualified; who’d have imagined that?!

To me, this is just another example of the stupidity of the world. Instead of encouraging our rather retarded and jaded youth into educating themselves and trying to pursue a respectable and high earning career, we provide them with even more motivation to drop out of school by looking for people with ‘minimum GCE O/L pass’ and offering them titles such as ‘corporate sales / marketing executives’. Who can blame them for not wanting to finish 12 years of school when as long as you pass 10 years somehow you can get a job without a problem? How can you explain to a 16-year-old on the verge of earning for the first time that in the long run, having a proper education will be a better decision? All he can see in his head is a five figure salary and a playstation.

So despite not being able to find anything really enticing for myself, at least I can see where our country is heading in the next 5 years. All these teens will have years of work experience in their firm and also the inability to get a job anywhere else, as well as the inability to get promoted to a higher position due to their, you guessed it, lack of qualifications. The larger firms will be forced to increase their requirements to ‘persons below the age of 65’ and smaller firms will have to remain small. As for these 20-somethings without an A/L qualification, they’ll be forced to open their own firms and send out ads that will probably look something like this:

"Wanted! Helper to the General Manager. We are a firm that does cool stuff like buying stuffs and selling stuffs at higher price to other people so that we make major moneys. Should be able to type and count in English language. Will be nice if you are a girl under 21. If not then also its ok. Send your papers to my address, or go to my facebook profile. If you are girls send pics also, will be appreciate. Fat people, old people, ugly people and people without grade 6 pass need not apply."

It’s not all bad though, I mean, you know what they say: “In the land of the blind, the one eyed midget is king”.

Guess who’s suddenly ‘qualified’ to be the one-eyed midget….?

The Price Bloggers Must Pay

After ending my last post on a rather unusually melancholy note, I was determined that the next post would contain as much feeling and emotion as that possessed by a mortician dissecting a corpse. Thus I sat prepared, waiting for some bizarre and preferably evil topic to blog about; the more evil and more bizarre the better. Usually inspiration hits me within a few hours; yes, it is no hardship to stumble onto such things in today’s day and age. There’s always some cross dressing celebrity couple, blockbuster movie launch or other miscellaneous nonsense to comment upon.

However, despite my best efforts, nothing came. My mind was as dry as one of my patented and pathetic pick-up lines, and as blank as the expression on the unlucky recipient’s face. I suppose it is to be expected; how often have we failed to do something that usually comes so naturally to us, simply because this time we’re actually trying!

Days flew by; nothing. In desperation, I even turned to Facebook and other people’s blogs to look for inspiration. Perhaps if I saw what everyone else was talking about, I’d stumble upon a direction to go. But that didn’t help much either; most people simply wrote about their life experiences, which on the whole were rather miserable.

And then, just when I was about to give up, someone tried to set me up on a date. Thank you GOD!

No, my gratitude to the heavens is not because I’m single and desperate. Far from it; I was just grateful because finally I had something to write about! Granted, I have already written a post about dating back in April (“My Reason for Blogging…!”) but this time around I wanted to dwell on another aspect with regards to dating; i.e., the setup!

Have you ever set someone up on a date? Perhaps you’ve been the one whose been set up? As far as I can recall, I’ve definitely not set anyone up on a date, and the one time that I was a victim to this ploy it ended in disaster! But we’ll get back to that later.

The entire concept of setting up two individuals, both of whom are usually your friends, on a date together just boggles the mind. How am I supposed to decide whether two individuals will suddenly develop chemistry together? What criteria am I supposed to qualify them for each other? Yes, one of them is a boy, the other is a girl; after that, well it’s anyone’s guess really. Similar tastes and similar outlooks don’t necessarily mean ‘love at first sight’, in the same way that ‘opposites attract’ doesn’t quite work either.

The main issue I have with the whole process is this; the match-making business involves reducing the people involved simply to ‘players’, almost like tokens on a board game. Allow me to illustrate. When I was a kid I used to collect trading cards of NBA players. Each card would have a player’s name, photo, and his career stats. Then using those cards you compare them with others, calling out one of the stats in which you feel your player is strongest in, in order to trump out the opponents. In that respect, if I owned a Shaquille O’Neal card, and I called out field goal percentage or rebounds, I’d definitely beat out Kobe Bryant, whose stats in those departments are lower, simply because he’s a good 6 inches shorter than Shaq and plays a completely different position. However, that doesn’t mean that Shaq would win in a one-on-one game; no statistic can express Kobe’s ability to get to the rim, his quickness, his reflexes or his athleticism.

The same is true about match-making. The fact of the matter is no person, no matter how simple he or she may be, can be summarised into a set of ‘qualities’. Besides, in spite of how well you know a person, there is no way that you can really ‘know’ him/her. The ability to gauge people’s character and true personality is a rare gift, and I’m sure that most of the match-makers out there are not in possession of it. Let’s remember that this is romance we’re talking about, not just ‘making friends’. Aren’t these type of relationships supposed to be spontaneous and, well, ‘romantic’? What happened to the chance meeting, the accidental coffee spill, the ‘oh alright I’ll drop you home, though I really don’t want to’, the shared smile, the stolen glance? Being set up with someone kind of eliminates all that, because now there’s expectation, which makes any form of chemistry seem contrived.

As for hooking up with friends, well, I for one do not see how two individuals who are friends can suddenly try to be partners in romance. Sure, we get along well, we’re of the same age group, we think alike; but heck, that’s why we’re friends! Just because it may seem like ‘a good idea’ doesn’t mean I can press the secret switch hidden on my right butt cheek, go into ‘romance’ mode and see what happens. This goes along the lines of every woman’s complaint about how they can’t be just friends with guys because we apparently expect ‘more’. However, these same women can be found all huddled together over coffee, trying to mix and match their friends together like some kind of human card game.

Bottom line: match-making doesn’t work. And even in the rare occasion that it does work, it shouldn’t! I would hate to be in a relationship with someone that happened because someone else thought it would be a good idea. That would mean

a) I’m not as deep and difficult to understand as I thought I was; which means I’m shallow.
b) I’m miserable when I’m single, which is why I was set up in the first place.
c) I don’t have a hope in hell of meeting good looking intelligent girls on my own.
d) The only reason this person met me at all was because of her friendship with our mutual friend.
e) That mutual friend is now sitting back and feeling like god.

But when my friend tried to set me up, I admit that it wasn’t the above reasons that got to me. The real sting came because she assumed I was single without asking. Apparently, only single men are jobless enough to maintain a blog.

A dagger in the manhood, that was. And I thought chicks dig bloggers. That date doesn’t sound so bad all of a sudden.

Scandinavian Road Trip : Final Day

“Every time you hold me, hold me like this is the last time… Every time you kiss me, kiss me like you’ll never see me again…”

I agree that leading off with the lyrics of an Alicia Keys song is a rather ‘different’ way to start a blog post from the Darkside. You must be wondering what this has to do with the Scandinavian Road Trip; well by the end of this final post all will be revealed.

The last four days of our trip were split into two; days 8 and 9 were in Sweden and 10 and 11 were spent in Copenhagen, Denmark, as part of our return journey. Days 8 and 9 were the weekend, and we spent a good part of it on the island of Öckerö, off the coast of Gothenburg. Some old friends had invited us over for the weekend to spend the day and also take in the sights.

Öckerö is part of a large collection of islands off the coast of Gothenburg, which are accessible only by ferry. On average, the islands are the size of a small township; each island has its own church, supermarket and other stores for daily necessities. However, the islands are mainly residential, despite the fact that buying a plot of land here would make a considerably dent in your finances. As we got off the ferry and drove to the house, I took in the beautiful scenery which I had grown accustomed to during my stay in the country. True, instead of giant conifers reaching to the clouds there was the coast line, but in essence it was the same. It was one of the few times in my life that I have been able to sit through a road trip without the need to have some kind of music pumping into my ears; in this setting with this scenery, any form of loud music would be verging on blasphemy.

Our friends are a family of six; parents and four girls. I have known the eldest since I was five years old; officially making her the oldest friend I have, in terms of how long I’ve known her for. We last met in 2001, and it was refreshing to meet her and the family again. They gave us a tour of the islands, showing us the small harbour, the beautiful sea-side houses, and also took us to a rather unique viewing point; a giant water tower, atop which the picture shown below was taken.

The weekend went all too quickly; we spent a lot of timing just catching up, reminiscing about years in school and figuring out what everyone had been doing over the last so many years. Also, Euro 2008 was in progress at the time, so we all watched Sweden take on Spain; needless to say, I was the sole supporter for Spain. It was an interesting match to say the least; apparently watching football with four beautiful girls comes with a price. Instead of discussing football strategies or player skills during the pre-game build up, I found myself in the rather awkward position of debating the relative ‘hotness’ of the Spanish and Swedish teams. Hardcore fans indeed. After reaching the conclusion that the Swedish ‘hotties’ outnumbered the Spanish contingent’s, the next 90 minutes were filled with Swedish patriotic songs, comments about Torres’ hair (“How can a Spanish guy have blonde hair?!”), a few moments of theatrical swooning here and there and the odd death threat as Spain scored in the 89th minute to win 2-1.

After dinner on Sunday, it was time to head back to our hotel in Leerum, which meant the inevitable goodbye scenes. Saying goodbye has become somewhat of a common event in my life; I spent most of my time in college seeing off good friends among my seniors, my batch-mates and even some of my juniors. Despite my vast experience in the matter, the fake promises of keeping in touch and similar invitations to come back never fail to sting. I wonder if it is just a sign of the growing bitterness in my own outlook, or whether we now make these empty promises without even trying to sound convincing. There is an air of resignation when we part ways, almost as if we know that even though there have been significant advances in technology with regards to communication and the internet, the last handshake or hug really is the last. Despite the ingenuity of the rather retarded staff on Facebook, no amount of ‘pokes’, virtual ‘hugs’, ‘free gifts’ or ‘sheep’ thrown at you (“So-n-so has thrown a sheep at you. Would you like to throw a lamb chop back?”) can replace the human element of being in touch with someone.

You see, all this nonsense about the world becoming smaller is just an illusion. We have been lulled into thinking that just because we can write on people’s virtual walls, that we are somehow involved in their lives. But seriously, if I step out this weekend, party like a mad man, get married while under the influence (sound familiar?) run over some homeless people, crash into someone’s house, get shot at by the owner, arrested and divorced by Sunday evening, well, who’s the wiser? Because all I have to do is put in my status message “… is having a boring weekend” and I might as well have spent Saturday night watching cartoons.

Phone calls and video calls can only take you so far; trust me, I know. Emails and pictures only tell you so much. No matter how hard you try, once it’s over, it’s over.

As I sat in the plane flying back to Colombo, I realise that this train of thought has weighed on me so heavily that I was barely conscious of our two days in Copenhagen. Another tour, another set of old acquaintances that took us out for dinner, another goodbye followed by promises of staying in touch ‘this time’. I look out of the plane window, and I recall all the close friends I’ve said goodbye to over the years. Despite my best efforts, the inexorable passage of time has washed away the last remains of contact with most of them. Now there is only this ‘on again, off again’ relationship with them all via emails or calls.

If only I’d known then what I know now; that the words ‘goodbye’ really are final, and hold sway until we physically meet again.

If only we’d love, care, cherish and ‘hold’ those that are close to us every time like it was the last time.

Status Quo

So, after much persuasion from my friends, i finally joined facebook last year. This is quite common for me in hindsight, i showed a similar resistance to join friendster, hi5 and orkut when they were the 'in' thing at the time. But eventually, with the appropriate amounts of kicking and screaming thrown in, i signed onto all these sites and became a rather active user if i do say so myself.

Now, after many years of mindless surfing on the net, i can claim to have some form of experience in these so-called 'social networking' sites. It all starts the same way, you resist, you cave, you upload your pic, you tell everyone how wonderful you really are ("and in my spare time i like to swim with dolphins off the coast of Fiji"), you add all your friends, and you start snooping in everyones profile ("aha! so ur her 2nd cousins uncles daughters housemaid's son!"). Its all very fascinating.. for a while. And then, when all the euphoria is gone, you're bored. You dont make new friends fast enough to keep adding them, hence you're stuck.

Not so with facebook, at least not for me. Why? Is it the endless number of applications you can add? The vast array of ridiculous and pointless quizzes you can take? ("How hairy is your soul mates' ass? Take this quiz to find out!")

No

Its the status msg. Yes, this tiny little line is one of the center-pieces of the site, the real heart of the matter, the sole reason some people login everyday. And to some, the status msg has become, if not an addiction, then an art form. There are normal msgs ("so-n-so is at work"), the bizarre ones ("So-n-so is a one-legged man in a 3-legged race"), the cute ones ("so-n-so is absolutely in lovey-dovey with honey-bunny-cutie-pie") and the depressed ones ("so-n-so wants to die.now.pls.") Its almost a competition out there to be 'cooler' or more creative at least. I find myself being sucked in many times, tryin to think o somethin to clever to say. I have since come to the painful conclusion that im jus not clever. Often I'll come across a msg so depressing and stupid i jus wanna write on their wall "look, fine, ur life sucks, u want to die, u got dumped, and ur heart is in a million pieces. now stop tellin everyone,we dnt really care!"

Harsh? Cruel? Perhaps.. i admit im rather impatient at times. but seriously, when the owners of facebook came up with the status msg, they had no idea what they would unleash.