For ---

Sometimes when you call me, I feel like I need to whisper so that I don't break the delicate web of memories that holds us together still. At other times, I feel like I need to shout at the top of my lungs to deafen the uncertain pounding in my heart. But always, always after we hang up, I feel like crying because I don't understand how we could have come to this when we had been so inseperable. It reminds me of all those times those last few months we were together when it was more lonely being in your arms than being alone and how much I missed you even when you were sitting right next to me talking, eating or driving and yet I still missed you, missed you, missed you.

I like to think that we are like protagonists in a Donne poem, that we don't need physical presence to survive but the truth is, I.Need.You. I need all of you not just the reassuarance of your voice on the telephone.

The Price of Being Pretty

There has been debate by some so-called politically-correct people that fashion magazines are a negative influence on today's youth. Apparently, glossy visions of actors and models air-brushed to perfection corrupt young, gullible minds, promote eating disorders, low self-esteem and distorted body images. Some extremists have even suggested we ban air-brushing all together because wouldn't you love to open this month's issue of Vogue/Cosmo/Elle and see Scarlet Johanssen sans make-up with every teeny-tiny imperfection highlighted to be glaringly obvious? (Rumour has it that Britney did recently publish un- air brushed images of herself from her Candie's photo shoot but that's another story) But, seriously is that what you would REALLY like to see?

I love pretty things. Every month, I relish my copy of Cosmo not just for the brand new shiny cover but also for all the pretty people inside. I, for one, definitely do not want to see un-airbrushed images of my favourite celebrities inside my favourite magazines. Just because I read a fashion magazine, I'm not a bimbo. Shouldn't we give enough credit to the human mind to be able to tell the difference between reality and a little bit of "touching-up". If someone cannot look at air-brushed images without their self-esteem being affected, they, my friends have much bigger problems than just low self esteem.

If banning air-brushing alone is going to promote healthy self-esteem among today's youth, why don't we ban make-up as well. After all, doesn't make-up help disguise our "flaws" as well?

Someone once told me I live a charmed life because I look the way I do. From experience, I beg to differ. Being pretty is hard work. I exercise, watch what I eat, take care of my hair and my skin, invest in quality products and spend time every morning putting on my make-up. There are no ugly people in the world, only lazy ones, and if you can't take the time to take care of yourself, then don't bother moaning about how pretty girls have it easy and air-brushing gives people unrealistic expectations. The day your willing to stand in minus degree weather wearing nothing but a bikini, you can start protesting against air-brushing and the day fashion magazines stop publishing these "unrealistic" expectations of beauty, I'll stop reading them.

Hey I like pretty things. I'm superficial. Sue me.

Happy New Year!

To celebrate the new year, I came up with a list of reasons why Facebook ruined the past year
(or maybe past few years!)for most people(it's true!I did research!)

1) We really don't want to know what our current/ex relationship's past girlfriend/boyfriend looks like. If it wasn't for Facebook, we would still be living in our blissful,ignorant bubble where we look like Angeline Jolie/Brad Pitt(delete where applicable) and they look like...well something stuck to the bottom of your shoe.

2) While we're on the topic, we really don't want to know what our ex's current/prospective significant other looks like either. Ok, so we're delusional but we really want to believe that we were so darn special that we're irreplacable. Seeing your ex living it up with some cute girl/guy doesn't exactly help cater to this illusion.

3) We're not "officially" in a relationship until we make it official on Facebook. What if I like my privacy? But wait what privacy. If you don't want to make it official on Facebook you obviously have something to hide. No seriously, I just like my privacy. What privacy? Haven't you heard Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg say the age of privacy is over. If you're on the Internet you obviously want the world to know every last detail of your private lives. And hey, if your life is not interesting enough be a part of mine. Really. Grab some popcorn, the new season of One Tree Hill sucks after all, so enjoy my hook ups and my break ups. I mean, Mark isn't that why we all use Facebook?

4) Have you noticed how lately all your conversations with friends start with, end with or have somewhere in the middle, the words, "I saw on Facebook...", "Did you see his/her Facebook profile", "She wrote on my wall..." or something along these lines.

5) So we weren't friends in school. In fact we never talked but suddenly you want to be Facebook friends? Or we met for 5 seconds and I have a friend request from you. Um, ooook.

6) Its weird when someone you barely know seems to know more about you than your own mother.

7) Can you imagine how many relationships Facebook is responsible for breaking up. What? You think I'm exaggerating? Come on. With all the pictures people put up and tag you in, your bf/gf is bound to get insecure. Your relationship is too strong for that? Yeah, right. Tell me tommorrow once your gf/bf dumps you after seeing drunken pictures with some model-ish people. And hey I'm no psycho, possesive girlfriend but it does bother me if I see a really pretty girl writing on my boyfriend's wall. That's normal, isn't it? Isn't it?

8) We know magazines are air-brushed but it does nothing for our egos to see normal people looking like celebs.

9) Those stupid quizzes.

10)I think my e-mail inbox is jammed thanks to all the notifications from Facebook.

This One's for the Boys...

I was sitting on the bus the other day and there was a group of girls sitting behind me listening to some music on their MP3 players. I guess they must have been about fifteen or so, and judging from their identical appearence and the books they were carrying, still in school. Anyway, one of the girls was listening to Chris Brown's "With You" and she was immediately rebuked by her peers for this. Since the whole Chris Brown/Rihanna incident, enjoying music by Chris Brown makes you an advocate for abusive relationships.

Now, I haven't really been following the whole saga of their court case, but I did a quick Google search and can conclude, that yes, Chris Brown was abusive toward Rihanna BUT she was also abusive towards him. So why is that, radio stations all over the USA pulled Chris Brown's songs off the airwaves but not one of them pulled Rihanna's music off the airwaves.

Chris Brown is perceived as the abuser and must deal with the fallout of his actions. In a career, where public image is everything, Chris Brown has definitely suffered his own wounds while Rihanna comes out unscathed.

The funny thing is, the same feminists who were contending for equal rights for both sexes, have nothing to say about this.

To set the record straight, I don't advocate abuse of any form in any relationship, but all I'm saying is that everyone should be responsible for their own actions. If its ok for a girl to hit a guy, then deal with it if he hits you back. Any court of law would tell you that there is some consideration given for self-defence. And just because boys are perceived to be stronger/bigger, its not an excuse.

I hate girls who go on about how they want equal rights in soceity but still want their boyfriends to do all the dirty work. If you want equal rights, then go for it all the way. Don't expect a knight-in shining armour, if you're not willing to be the damsel in distress. I don't think Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty or Snow White fought with their Prince Charmings to wear the pants in the family. They were perfectly happy just waiting to be rescued but we're in the 21st century, and unless you have a lot of time to spare, waiting to be rescued, is not, the most viable option.

So, while you probabally won't catch me listening to Chris brown's music, rest assured that I won't be listening to any Rihanna either.

Ammama

My grandmother died last year.

Her death made me realize a lot of things. Grandparents are the only people who truly love you unconditionally.

Maybe this is only my opinion because of the differences in my relationships with my parents and my grandparents. I seek out my parents and spend time with them. But with my grandparents, maybe it was the generation gap or maybe the language barrier, I don't think I spent as much time with them as I should have. I always thought I would run out of things to say and rather than risk an awkward silence, I kept my interactions with them short and simple.

I feel guilty now when I think of all the things I could have done and said. Whenever I used to come home for holidays and weekends, my grandmother would always be waiting for me, she would make it a point to cook all my favourite food, which I sometimes would not even bother to eat. If I ever went to the kitchen, my grandfather would always tell me to rest and my grandmother would come running to get me whatever it was that I wanted. I now realize, it should have been the other way, I should have tried to do my best to give my grandparents what they wanted rather than them always trying to make me happy. But I was too preoccupied with myself to ever see their love. And yet they loved me, unconditionally, despite my ignorance and all the times I must have, unintentionally, hurt them.

With the passing of my grandmother, I sometimes wonder, is this the end of the Sri Lankan part of me. I'm half-Sri Lankan but I don't know anything about my culture or my heritage. Although I was born in Sri Lanka, I've only been there twice after, I can't cook any Sri Lankan cuisine and even my language is heavily accented.

Having lived most of my life in another country and educated in private and international schools, sometimes I feel like I could never fit in anywhere. With my Malaysian friends, I'm not Malaysian enough to be Malaysian and with my Indian friends, I'm not Indian enough to be Indian. A little bit of this and a little bit of that, with nowhere to really call home, I sometimes worry what kind of culture/heritage I would pass onto my children, when and if I do have any.

My sister and I were discussing the other day, how since my grandmother passed away, there is no one except my mother who calls us by the Sri Lankan-Tamil endearment, "rasati", which roughly means my darling/sweetheart. And how maybe someday there would be no one at all.

It made me realize how fleeting life could be and every day is somehow, today, more precious.

<3 <3 <3

Although this is a work of fiction, it was inspired by a time in my life when I was heavily dependant on someone else. I'm trying to get back into fiction writing so I thought I would share it up here.

When I was younger, my mother told me not to stick my wet fingers into electric sockets, my teachers taught me a hymn to thank the Lord before I ate and I learnt to dip my paintbrushes in clear water and outline the pictures in my colouring book, so that my scribbles did not go outside the lines and my colours did not bleed into each other.
Somewhere though, there is a fine line between growing up and forgetting and I stepped into that line. I let the colours of your life bleed into mine until my red and your yellow became orange, your red and my blue became purple and my yellow and your blue became green. I was no longer me and you were no longer you and we became us.
Slowly, I abandoned all the things I had been taught in the past. I would use my wet fingers to plug in the hair dryer, so that I could dry my hair quickly before meeting you. WIth my fingers entangled in yours under the table I forgot to thank the Lord before I ate my meals. But most of all because we forgot to outline the drawing that is our lives, the colours seeped into each other until we were not two but one. We were like swimmers in the vast, open sea holding onto nothing but each other to survive.
Once upon a time, I would open my Coke can and wait for it to go flat because the bubbles in the soda burnt my tongue, but I drank greedily from the bottle that is your life, and although the bubbles burnt my tongue, I chose to ignore them.
A doctor once explained to me the theory behind the concept of rubbing balm on a body ache- the balm burnt your skin so much that just for a moment, you are able to forget the real pain that is hurting you. At that time, I didn't understand what he was saying but now I know, because every time the razor blade eats away at the thin flesh on my wrist, the pain that engulfs me momentarily numbs the hurt in my heart and for awhile I am able to breathe a little easier. And as I watch the little drops of scarlet blood fall from my wrist onto the floor, my heart beats a little faster, because that blood is MY blood, MY red blood, MY red and ONLY MY red.

1...2...3...CHEESE!

My sisters and I. From top, me(age7),my older sister(age9)

and my younger sister(age4)
I have deliberately decided not to open a Twitter account. Facebook takes up enough of my time. I sound like I'm complaining but I'm not. I love Facebook! For someone like me who is just too lazy to keep in touch, Facebook is pretty much God-send. And I Am Addicted!
But what I really hate is the pictures. Lately, everyone seems to feel that their facebook profile ascertains how cool they are. I honestly feel that the novelty of taking pictures has worn off with the emergence of digital cameras, mobile phone cameras and of course, social networking sites.
When I was growing up, picture-taking was something, more often than not, saved for special occasions. Buying camera film was expensive and developing them was a chore. The result was picture-taking was a cherished family moment. My dad, however, was a wannabe Ansel Adams so we got through our fair share of camera rolls!
Even now, whenever I'm back home, one of the things I most like to do is take down old family albums and look at the pictures of my sisters and I posing and preening to our glory. We have shelves full of albums! One for each of us and the older ones of my parents- their wedding, their courtship, their college days, their childhood and even some older ones of my grandparents.
In high school, when digital cameras were a luxury we were yet able to afford, my friends and I took pictures with our bulky Nikons, of events in school, our crushes and just some classic moments. But until the film was over and developed we never got to see the pictures and because we were sure that the pictures were not going to be published online for all the world to see, we were ok being crazy, silly and ugly. No one forced you to delete pictures off your camera because they didn't look good, there were no pretentious pictures taken solely for the purpose of publishing it on Facebook, Friendster, Twitter, Orkut or any other place. Pictures were taken solely for the purpose of creating and preserving a memory.
And I really miss that.