Really. It was time for a change.

So here's the new blog. Not very new though, just a new address, the old posts that you have all grown to love so much are still here, so fear not, there aren't any drastic changes. I was getting a little sick of the old address and felt it was time for a change. Actually, between you and me, the old addy hit a little too close to home and was way too reflective of who I am, that's the real reason for the move. Oh. And also. I screwed around with my blogger settings and I can't post anything to the old blog anymore. The odds were against me you see, someone was conspiring to ruin me and was orchestrating a blogger coup d'etat. I have an inkling of who it might be. Don't worry, they will be severely reprimanded.

Till next time!

Claustrophobia strikes once again.

Last week I had the strangest dream
Where everything was exactly how it seemed*

Hmm. Four weeks of classes left, the less thought about that the better methinks. So how do I cope during a period which should be highly stressful? I hallucinate of course! Let's see, for the past I don't know, 2-3 weeks I've been having recurring nightmares where I get stuck in an elevator either by myself, or horror of all horrors with a crowd. Most of you enjoy exploiting my severe claustrophobia by squishing me into small spaces, purposely keeping elevator doors closed, swarming me etc and all you sadists get some sort of thrill in eliciting a panicked reaction from me. You'll all be happy to know, these stupid elevator dreams are incredibly realistic and just thinking about them is freaking me out.

Last week I saw Labro at the library, so I decided I'd go and scare her, because after Copto, she's the best to get reactions out of. She was sitting at a computer engrossed in what she was doing, so I went and shook her swivel chair really violently. When she turned around and looked at me horrified I realized it wasn't Labro. These cases of mistaken identity are occuring too rapidly for my liking! I swear I see someone I 'know' at least once a day. But after last week's episode, I restrain myself. Nevertheless they still leave me confused and disoriented. Oh wait. I'm always like that.

Naturally essay procrastination leads to watching crappy movies
Thathi has a thing for poorly made action movies. I have a thing for Hugh Laurie (and really it's only because of Blackadder) so when Thathi brought home Flight of the Pheonix I should have trusted my better judgement and not watched it. But it was Hugh Laurie (and I didn't want to study)! 113 minutes (plus previews) of my life which I will never recover. When in doubt, NEVER watch a remake, words cannot even begin to describe how terrible that flick was. Speaking of remakes though, I watched the original Ocean's 11, flipping amazing. A young Frank Sinatra, *swoon*

To make amends for my terrible lapse of judgement also known as the Flight of the Pheonix, I had to revisit some old friends. Meet some incredibly made Evian commercials. European of course. 'Evian Voices' is great, it's a montage of people lip synching to school kids singing Queen's We Will Rock You. My favorite, is the suit that's (*gasp*) singing in the elevator. 'Evian Water Boy' is soooooo cute. Of course it won a bunch of awards including a Clio. I'm sure you'll enjoy them more than the Flight of the Pheonix, or the Notebook. And no Alby, the final scene in that movie? It's not touching. It's cheesey.

*Sleeping In - The Postal Service

Prepare yourself for a rather useless diatribe

(Drunken debaucherous pictures from our lunch at Spring Rolls are here.)

"Dedicated with honour to the women and children of Calcutta's Red Light District*"
(Excuse the poor grammar and sentence structure. I wanted it to be an authentic diatribe. But really, I'd like to think that my small heart is still capable of warning people against the evil that is formally known as 'D's Run On Sentence of Death.' Consider yourselves warned.)

Photo courtesy of Kids With Cameras

I had wanted to see Born into Brothels for a really long time; way before the Oscar hype(have no fear, I have not gone mainstream. Not yet at least.) But as is often the case, I never get around to actually dragging myself to the theatre and justifying spending $13.50 on a movie that will eventually come out on DVD and can be rented for much less (and now with Blockbuster's wicked no late fees, what's the point anyway?!) I knew if I didn't go and watch it this week, there was no way I would get a chance anytime in the near future. So I pulled a Stan and went solo. Best decision I could have made, because I cried through parts of the bloody thing. And God only knows how big of an arse I would've felt if someone I knew witnessed that. The entire experience was incredibly thought provoking, as is often the case when dealing with documentaries of that sort.

I think my spiral into this month's bout of extreme leftism occured this past Tusday after I watched Cry Freetown (done by Sorious Samura of Living with Refugees fame) in one of my politics lectures. There was an absolutely horrific scene in that documentary where a deaf and mute 10 year old boy was stripped naked and beaten by Nigerian peacekeepers in Sierre Leone on suspicion of being a rebel snipper. He was sobbing and screaming for them to stop. Fanners had to cover her eyes while it was going on. I was immobilized, just sitting there in absolute shock and horror. Although I couldn't erase the images that I had seen from Cry Freetown I still willingly went to see Born into Brothels on Thursday. It's really difficult for me to quantify what I felt watching those two stellar documentaries; but simply put it felt like every single child who had crossed my path and affected me in some form or manner during my times in Mexico, Sri Lanka and Senegal was staring right back at me through the faces of the children on screen. The rawness of their lives once again came up and slapped me across the face. And what made it sting so much more is that for the first time I was able to feel shaken deep within myself while in Canada. As I was watching the little boy being beaten by peacekeepers, I felt the same tightness in my stomach as I did the day when a boy around the same age walked into the Talibe Centre (in Dakar) with horrible third degree burns all up and down his arms. The marabout he belonged to had thrown boiling water on him in a fit of rage. I remember there was a chubby little boy named Reuben in Mexico who insisted that we play frozen tag with him, I used to watch him and all the other little kids and wonder what life would be like for them if they had access to proper education and health care, what they would become. Kochi who is growing up in a brothel in Calcutta wondered the same thing; how different life could be for her if she could end the cycle of poverty and get an education. Childhood has been robbed from these children, their faces are full of innocence but their lives reflect something way beyond my understanding.

Even as I still try to rationalize all of this, I just can't. And to tell you the truth, I'm glad I can't, because really who wants to understand the real reasons behind why developed countries sit idly by and watch the third world go up in flames? Isn't it mind boggling to know that in this day of budget surpluses and booming economies there's still high levels of child poverty in the United States, England and Canada? More attention needs to be paid to the plight of children in poverty and not fixated on fighting a war on terror while millions are dying of preventable deaths every day. Even Richard Roeper rightly points out that films such as Born into Brothels needs more widespread recognition, "This is a movie about our world that deserves the attention and audience that Michael Moore's films command." (For the record, Michael Moore blows, and hopefully this will be the last time I find myself using Roeper to back me up on a point.)

A wise woman once said "Speak up for those who can't speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy." (Proverbs 31:8,9) So, who would like to step up to the plate?

*steps off soapbox* (I know, as of late i've been abusing it. But there's only so much I can hold in. Plus. No one told you that you had to read all of it. What? I msged you on MSN and made you. Well, that's possible, but technically you stillhad a choice. So can it.)

*Born into Brothels