To the hustings!

I always love a good election and I was kind of glad that I'd be in Colombo during the lead up to Tuesday's vote. My parents weren't too enthused with my timing because they remembered election violence, assassinations and all sorts of other lovely things when they still lived and were able to vote. On the whole, aside from all the Mahinda love, things were pretty tame in my opinion.

There was that one evening though...

I was on my way home in a 588 cab, making a left turn onto the Galle Road, there was a pick up truck reversing erratically in our direction. The cabbie lent on the horn, but the pick up kept coming at us, the windows were darkly tinted and one slowly rolled down, a man with bloodshot eyes looked at my driver, waved a pistol at him, shook his head and the pick up continued erratically along. The cabbie and I just looked at each other dumbfounded and he told me that because of the elections exchanges like the one we just had were more common place.

Great! Nothing like pissing yourself at 3:20 in the morning to remind you how fantastic it is to live in a country where only 30% of the public gives a shit enough to vote and 'election violence' means a paper cut.

What's so Bad About Dying Anyways?

When you're a kid there will always be certain things which are the shit because you honestly don't know any better. Martin Streek definitely fell into that category.

Growing up Aiya and I depended on the radio for new music. If a new single came out we used to record it off of the radio. I feel like a dinosaur, but I still have cassette tapes, lovingly labeled with artist name, song, date and time. CFNY was my station. Even now when I see Allan Cross walking around downtown I become a total tool. I had a radio in my room that didn't have a recording device on it, just a straight up battery operated radio. When I was in elementary school Martin Streek was an integral part of my life. Thursday night he used to host a show called the Thursday Thirty which counted down the top 30 songs for the week and also introduced new artists. I'd usually fall asleep before the end of the show, but it was Martin who introduced me to Sloan and Radiohead. I'd head to school on Friday mornings feeling like such a badass. Michael and I used to talk music when we should've been doing math, but we used to compare notes and swap artist names. He was an avid Thursday Thirty listener too.

With the dawn of our dial-up internet connection my dependence on the radio slowly began to wane, but all of that changed when I started to work in Sri Lanka. Because of the time difference between Toronto and Colombo I used to catch the Thursday Thirty streamed live on Friday mornings at work. Between that and reading Torontoist and Now online, home didn't seem so far away. I've always said that I become much more patriotic when I'm away from home than when I'm actually here. For a couple of hours every Friday morning I used to feel like I was at home. Without the familiarity of Martin Streek's voice and on air style I doubt I would have felt the same way. That's when I started to understand why the migrant community in Toronto tried so, so hard to hold on to where they came from. Really I was no different, tuning into a Toronto radio station, reading Toronto street magazines. Obviously when I do it's way less fobby. But still.

I found out that Martin had committed suicide via Torontoist on Tuesday morning. When I was on my way home from work Josie Dye (who for the record I cannot EFFING STAND. She and the Dean Blundell Show epitomise everything that's awful with what CFNY now known as edge102 has become) was talking to David Bookman about what had happened. Bookie was just about to take over the afternoon drive shift and one of the first songs that he played in Martin's honour was actually The Lines you Amend by Sloan. It's actually one of my favourite Sloan songs of all time and oh so fitting.

Bye Martin. Toronto is not going to be the same without you. I will miss your voice.


photo from exclaim.ca

Let's go home!

I haven't written a "real" blog post in awhile. Just don't seem to have the time these days between summer school, work and all the seasonal social obligations. The only time I can actually punch something out is when I'm on the subway. I've been pecking away at this for the last little while and I have no idea if I'll ever get around to finishing it, but it's a partially written post that was thoughtlessly written with my two thumbs on the iphone. I haven't read it over so you're warned...

More often than not these days our conversations around the dinner table always lead to the same thing: Ammi and Thathi retiring to Sri Lanka. I can't say that I'm completely opposed to the idea. The properties that they've been looking at are infinitely more conveniently located than where my grandmother lives. Plus centralised a/c is always ftw in gawdawful Colombo. Generally speaking though when the old couple appeal to me on important issues like proximity to other family members, 'hot spots' and wtf to do with the dog, my wont is to stare back blankly and blink a few times. This has rankled the old man into fits and caused Ammi her fair share of consternation as well. In their minds it would seem that Aiya and I don't give a shit what happens to them so long as they don't move in with either of us during their Golden Years. If I have the good fortune to have Aiya around (which these days is not the case due to the acquisition of a new femme) we will roll our eyes, hold our tongues and display a level of restraint hitherto unknown.

That all changed recently though. I was catching up on my feeds in the kitchen. I happened to start reading a blogpost that someone had written about the scattered Sri Lankan diaspora returning home. It was so asinine, ill conceived and ludicrous I couldn't help but read out a few of the more 'passionate bits' out loud for public ridicule. Ammi and Thathi responded in typical fashion. Mostly because they are generally aware of the writer's status as being an unbearable tosser and also because they don't really view themselves as being your run of the mill conflict-fleeing-Sri Lankans.

I suppose this is something I've meant to write about for some time and nevar could really be arsed to do. Most of you know in bits and pieces what I think and how I feel about the circumstances surrounding our migration as a family. I've never really sat down and gone through the whole thing in any cohesive manner so I guess this is as much for me as it is for you? In light of all the political events that have been unfolding it's unsurprising that I my thoughts on the subject are courted more frequently than in the past.

So here goes?

I'll start from the point that most people find relevant and I feel the need to add the disclaimer that not only do I personally feel it is irrelevant I also don't give a shit. In short, Thathi is Sinhalese and Ammi is Tamil. I know right? It's horrifying.

We lost our home in '83 due to this disgusting twist of fate. They found out that Ammi was Tamil through the voters list and our neighbours torched the house. We knew it was coming and our immediate family left to Thathi's parents place in Ratmalana. Amamma and Ammi's younger siblings weren't so fortunate. Amamma was a well known doctor in the area, her house was razed. She and Punchi mammah ended up in a refugee camp. My aunt saw the worst of it. She was on her way in from the city, saw people being burned alive. I know she used to sometimes wake up screaming from nightmares well into the 1990s. Obviously this is what happened to countless other Tamils in Colombo in 83 so it's really not that special. Needless to say that was the last year any of my Tamil family members ever voted.

Ammi says that one of her earliest memories as a child were houses burning and being hidden in a cupboard. She was very young when the first race riots broke out in the 50s. This whole being Tamil/Sinhalese thing was never an issue within our family, even at the point when Sri Lanka gained independence. My maternal grandfather wouldn't let his children speak Tamil at home and neither would my paternal grandfather. Actually scratch that, speaking the vernacular in either home was forbidden by both families by my great grandparents. I come from a long line of brown sahibs. Don't get me wrong though, I think both the Tamil and sinhalese sides would die if they were termed imperialists. My family were long time LSSP supporters and believed in a free independent Sri Lanka for all Sri Lankans.

I suppose it sounds so cheesey to say this now, but the older generation believed this with great vehemence. The next generation didn't quite get it right. At least not the Sinhalese generation. I learned what marginalization was from them when I made my first visit to Sri Lanka as a teenager.

Ammi's entire family eventually migrated either to Canada, Australia or the UK. I have no male Tamil family left except for 2 who married well established sinhalese women. We were originally slated to go to Australia. Ammi was petrified that we'd get killed for being half Tamil, it didn't make much sense for us to go but they put in their paperwork and Canada was the first to get back to us. In the 1950s my paternal grandfather nearly came to Canada with his young family. I think this was always meant to be our home.

The immigration officer who interviewed us tried to dissuade them from leaving. He didn't think they'd last more than six months in Toronto. Granted looking back my parents haven't got the foggiest clue as to how we made it. He was so intrigued by our family that he actually made a concentrated effort to keep tabs on our progress for close to 15 years. I think that he eventually made it to Cyprus and found himself a wife. That's when we lost touch with him. He's now actually a director in in the refugee and immigration department in Ottawa. It's a shame that Ammi's not as much of a pack rat as Thathi & I because she actually tossed out his letters.

Screenshot from my twitter account.

I was driving home last Sunday around 4:30ish from Debbie's place in some pretty heavy stop and go traffic. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon, I was on the cusp of a rice coma and to prevent myself from falling asleep at the wheel I turned on the radio. Fortunately for me I was able to catch the tail end of the Strombo Show and he was previewing some tracks off of the new Decemberists' album, The Hazards of Love.

As I listened to "The Rake's Song" and mentally went over the day (I was dragged to a Bridal show), a Cheshire Cat type grin spread across my face. Of course I fully empathised with the narrator (despite not being 21 anymore *sob*). Ever since the general unwashed masses found out about Debbie's impending nuptials, Abi and I have started getting some crazy heat from all and sundry about "settling down." As I've mentioned in the past there's nothing unusual with that, but lately we're finding the renewed interest a bit harder to laugh off. Mostly because it's coming from people who should genuinely know better. Abi's a sweet, good natured person and you can generally guess how I, ever the commitmentphobe, have been dealing.

Alby was in town over the weekend for a few wedding related festivities and we got to talking about how last year this time I was in London. Being in a bit of a nostalgic mood here are a few journal entries from that time that've been in the vault.

March 4, 2008

It's amazing what can happen in a month.

Just over a month ago I was super stoked for my big move to London and my trip to Barcelona. Instead all the plans that I had and the way I had envisaged myself settling into this next phase of my life essentially got side swiped like a car at a T-junction.

Did a run to IKEA the other night with Thorn, probably didn't need to but I wanted things to feel a bit normal. Picked up some stuff to make my "room" a bit more habitable. I use quotes because I swear this place is smaller than my walk-in closet in Toronto. I felt lost last week, it's been years since I've felt that way.

Alby was totally aghast. God only knows what Labro would've done to me. Probably punched me in the face and told me to man up and find some balls. Just like how it's amazing what can happen in a month, I'm struck by how much has happened in a week. Tez witnessed The Panic which lasted give or take 2 days. But still, I don't panic to that degree ever. Things are starting to look up.

April 22, 2008

I have now worked at a grand total of 2 boutique ad agencies since coming to London. My lovely headhunter warned me ahead of time to brace myself for what would be an immense culture shock. Corporate whoring aside, working in London is a different beast altogether.

I have moaned and groaned about not being taken seriously because of my fluid identity time and time again. The weekend found thorn and I at a dingy club, unsurprisingly I was the only coloured person in the joint. Usually there's at least a token black person. Not this time. Some shitfaced cockney and one of his mates came up to us and in a vain attempt to pick me up asked me if I was black.

Yeah. Needless to say he didn't get very far.

And because the walk down memory lane didn't end there, here are some tweets (I feel like that's the only way to legitimise the above screenshot). Plus the vast majority of you wouldn't have even read this while they were happening since they're restricted. I hardly did any blogging while I was in the UK so here goes:

I have rediscovered twitter. less emo more happy!
6:40 PM Mar 25th, 2008 from web

I'm gainfully employed bitchz!
10:34 AM Mar 31st, 2008 from web

@drac I want to be intoxicated in some form or manner too! Just cashed my last lot of traveler's cheques. unpleasant.
12:45 PM Apr 1st, 2008 from web

@tezcat i'm wracking my brains trying to figure out the name of the green book on sustainable development is. Damn you Goodreads. Damn you.
5:12 PM Apr 1st, 2008 from web

I have eaten the best sammich ever. Who knew crumpets could be that good?
5:26 PM Apr 2nd, 2008 from web

Why is the washing machine making that noise? It's either going to flood the flat or burn it down. I will not be held responsible for either.
9:29 AM Apr 3rd, 2008 from web

Flatmate went drinking @ the tate+house party in the lower flat+really hot italians=a ditched Pula and fun times.
12:32 AM Apr 5th, 2008 from web

When asking about my Sat night plans the flatmate accused me of being the 'thinking man's nympho.' wtf indeed peeps. wtf indeed.
8:40 AM Apr 5th, 2008 from web

Correction: apparently it was actually the "cerebral man's nympho," because that makes it better.
9:08 AM Apr 5th, 2008 from web

I have a new British ghey bestfriend. weeee!
9:07 AM Apr 6th, 2008 from web

'Ah so that's what your initials stands for. I'm not going to be insulting & try to pronounce it'
5:56 PM Apr 6th, 2008 from txt

My new job sucks but is $ coming in. If 1 more person says I have a 'beautiful name' I may go Waco.
5:52 AM Apr 7th, 2008 from txt

flatmates are screaming "GOAL." Apparently there's a football game. I'm displeased. Trying to catch up on missed episodes of Project Runway
2:00 PM Apr 8th, 2008 from web

@TinyLF "PENALTY, PENALTY" is being screamed at horrendous volumes.
3:28 PM Apr 8th, 2008 from web in reply to TinyLF

the (football) hoodlums have no made it to the street.
4:08 PM Apr 8th, 2008 from web

I'm headed 2 a funeral in Brixton & the Black Crows are playing the Sound Academy. Bleh.
6:53 PM Apr 9th, 2008 from txt

Checking out guys at a funeral is so tasteless. Please feel free to disagree. Anyone?
8:12 PM Apr 9th, 2008 from txt

I have been informed that i need to know about quantitative research methods for tomorrow. wtf! I'm an arts student, we don't know this shit.
5:27 PM Apr 9th, 2008 from web

Job interview #459285. "Bring your passport" they say. Am I going to be sold into slavery? Who knows.
9:48 AM Apr 10th, 2008 from web

Another interview, another job offer, another "wtf a 1 year work visa?" another monumental PHAIL.
3:58 PM Apr 10th, 2008 from web

Applying for jobs in Toronto while I'm in London. Decidedly teh weirdness. How the mighty have fallen etc.
9:43 AM Apr 10th, 2008 from web

Gah. it has been a truly bipolar day. Interview at DDB London for an actual short term contract position.
12:18 PM Apr 10th, 2008 from web

The mater arrives at Heathrow in T -1hr15mins. Must get supplies.
12:53 PM Apr 11th, 2008 from web

Mater & the aunt are totally MIA. Only my family'll do this kind of shiz.
3:34 PM Apr 11th, 2008 from txt

Doesn't matter how old you are, having your mom around when things go to shit is awesome.
6:20 PM Apr 11th, 2008 from txt

Is there a soccer game tonite? Lots of hot boys in blue Chelsea jerseys
6:47 PM Apr 14th, 2008 from txt

Half a glass of wine shouldn't make anyone this giggly. Gawd. I need new friends
9:06 PM Apr 14th, 2008 from txt

Crazy bag lady screamed out 'go home paki' as I walked by. At least toronto homeless aren't racists. They are bitter though.
4:56 PM Apr 14th, 2008 from txt

'Just print out your timesheet on the printer called "sausage."' How can I possibly keep a straight face?
11:31 AM Apr 15th, 2008 from web

ZOMG! Hottest guy in London sitting next to me on the tube & I look like total ass. Why God? Why?! /shakes fist.
2:41 PM Apr 16th, 2008 from txt

Frenchman, French novels and conversations in French. Bliss?
8:33 PM Apr 17th, 2008 from txt

The hordes of teenage girls at the Primark on Oxford St must die. Or maybe i'll just cut them all instead? Teh rage. I have it.
3:38 PM Apr 18th, 2008 from txt

Do I srsly need another pair of kickass over priced sneakers? Should I be buying 'grown up shoes?' Heels? Psylog?
4:39 PM Apr 18th, 2008 from txt

Non-English speaking flatmate ftw! 'how do you say a transformers?' 'dude you mean transexual?'
11:42 PM Apr 19th, 2008 from txt

What a flipping sausage fest. Cutest boy in da house 'i really like your trainers.' I made the right choice!
12:18 AM Apr 20th, 2008 from txt

Comparing me to a Postal Service song & then telling me you like beer? I'm in love!
12:32 AM Apr 19th, 2008 from txt

When did doing lines in the livingroom at 6pm on a Sunday become acceptable? I'm getting old.
^:18 PM Apr 20th, 2008 from txt

'Mind if I pop my stuff at the end of your thing while I go for a wee?' Damn you British people, don't you realise? Innuendo is everywhere!
11:04 AM Apr 22nd, 2008 from web

Perhaps I'm just actually a 12 year old boy?
11:04 AM Apr 22nd, 2008 from web

I'm always lost. Yet tourists come to me as if I know wtf I'm doing and where places are.
12:21 PM Apr 22nd, 2008 from txt

Why is it that in any part of the world Sri Lankan Airlines is always out to eff you over?
11:00 AM Apr 23rd, 2008 from web

Tube? I will not miss you. No. Srsly I won't. There's no hope for reconciliation.
3:25 PM Apr 23rd, 2008 from txt

Damn you lolcats. I no longer know how to spell MOAR.
9:18 AM Apr 24th, 2008 from txt

Wtf do Italian fiends always have to travel in packs of 20?! If I hear Napoli 1 MOAR time...
2:07 PM Apr 24th, 2008 from txt

I hate taking all my gear to concerts. If you had any sense you'd know that my mac is low end, the camera is shit and not professional.
2:42 PM Apr 24th, 2008 from txt

The camera lenses are crap too. This is why I don't have a press pass you idiots.
2:44 PM Apr 24th, 2008 from txt

Contact highs ftl! I have the munchies. Loud Americans! Always ruining good music for everyone.
3:45 PM Apr 24th, 2008 from txt

Is it totally pathetic that I keep thinking I see my toronto peeps everywhere because I'm so excited about going home? A bit?
10:40 AM Apr 25th, 2008 from txt

ZOMG! Two geese are getting it on at St James park. I may throw up my sammich.
1:50 PM Apr 25th, 2008 from txt

Murukku & spanish rioja ftw. That's the way to keep it classy.
11:45 PM Apr 25th, 2008 from txt

Srsly you have to stop talking. No one cares. I don't want to hear about how you 'nearly scored' last nite. I was THERE & no you didn't.
11:53 PM Apr 25th, 2008 from txt

No he doesn't love you & you've never done coke you've just met your 2 glass of quota of wine. Stop with the paint by numbers psychology.
12:47 AM Apr 26th, 2008 from txt

Chelsea fans everywhere. They've overridden the tube. As if this journey wasn't going to normally be painful enough.
2:11 PM Apr 26th, 2008 from txt

There are cops all up in my hood because of the football rowdies. Hot men in uniform ftw!
2:26 PM Apr 26th, 2008 from txt

So apparently that big structure that I can see from my window is the Chelsea grounds. All of a sudden things make sense.
2:58 PM Apr 26th, 2008 from txt

Goodbye London. You were an utter bitch but I'll still miss you.
11:13 AM Apr 26th, 2008 from txt

Toronto. It is good to be in your familiar embrace once again but why does it still feel like winter?! And you feel a bit distant.
9:19 AM Apr 27th, 2008 from txt

/fin

*woot*

There are very few things in this world that get me this excited about anything. Canadian Politics unfortunately happens to be one of those few things. Turns out we'll be having an election in October, the rumours were true!

I didn't know what I was going to do with myself after the Olympics were over, there was nothing to obssess over, nohting to fill that big dark empty void. Then the DNC and RNC came along and provided me and many others with hours of entertainment. Frankly it's a miracle that I came out of the RNC alive. Palin? She makes me want to do harmful things to myself and despite the haterade she did look fantastic on Wedensday night.

Now? Now I've got a Canadian election to look forward too as well! Although I'm a bit sad becaues Stephane Dion is stuch a flipping asshat. *sigh* I'm nostalgic for the time when I actually thought that Michael Ignatieff would be leading the Liberal party. Mofo should've made an appearance in Canada slightly earlier than the year of the leadership race.

Stay tuned my pretties, remember the last time when there was large scale Canadian politics a foot?

EEK.

I wish it would stop raining.

A few odds and ends my lovelies. I got a new toy for my camera and have been snapping shit up.


My rain drenched driveway

I was observing a focus group on Thursday and inbetween the bajillion sessions my white middle aged client turns to the "hip young" account exec from the "hip young" ad agency and starts complaining about the weather. Apparently the client has been unable to use the pool the whole summer despite it being heated. As I inwardly rolled my eyes to the back of my skull the account exec's witty riposte went something along the lines of "Yeah I haven't been able to hit Muskoka and engage in some shit faced boating." (Drunk boating is BAD kids!) While I was trying to keep the chicken salad I was eating from climbing up my throat and spewing across my laptop at this blatant exhibit of elite WASP-ism, I caught myself.

Last week I was cursing Zeus for making it impossible for me to waste the early part of my week in an inner tube with my sunglasses and a drink. Then on Wednesday I got news that our planned cottage escape for the end of August? Canceled because the mate's parent's cottage has been heavily damaged by the torrential rains.

A quick perusal of the list at Stuff White People Like proved to be rather uncomfortable to a lass like me. Although the official title of "whitest brown person ever" belongs to my stateside doppelgänger I think that I may be swiftly moving in on that.

Disgusting? Absolutely.

Three cheers to upwards mobility though.

Moving along.


Oliver trying to escape from inside my grocery bag

One of the great things about being a consultant is the ability to do bugger all during the day and set your own hours. I was on an excursion last week at the famous grocery store and while bagging my groceries it occurred to me that I had totally become the caricature that I've been trying to vainly avoid for most of my adult existence. Someone recently, much to my chagrin, informed me that I have no reason to complain because I perpetuate it. As I looked down in my hand was a box of organic strawberries and rolling down my direction along the conveyor belt were some omega 3 fortified eggs, flax seed granola and low fat cream cheese amongst a host of other things.

In high school I was the spunky ethnic sidekick. I suppose now it's only fitting that I stop resisting and morph into the spunky-ethnic-suburban yuppie with a twist? (See below)


I've been in the market for a new watch for awhile. When I turned 15 Aiya got me a gorgeous vintage watch that I love dearly and am now petrified to wear. It's got a classic face and strap, it's totally timeless and classic. Having no money and a need for a timepiece I, like thorn, opted to hit up the local fleamarket to get the above gem for a steal of a deal. The place smelled like Majestic City on an average day and since I was feeling rather nostalgic, there was nary a tweet of complaint. It's a damn shame that I don't have $400 just casually lying around because I SO want one of these. Hopefully after a bit more corporate whoring I'll be able to justify that purchase by the end of next month.


Gaudy costume jewelery

Speaking of Majestic City, Thathi's office was one of the main sponsors of Masala!Mehndi!Masti! as a result our unwilling asses were dragged down thataways. Aiya and I both felt like we were back in Colombo. Poor sanitation, questionable food handling, lecherous men all present in spades and minus the 22 hour plane ride! The only plus side? I've discovered a few fantastic local South Asian artists who I'll definitely be calling in the near future to procure some original work.


A surprisingly dry day at the park
My dog is getting old people. This pose? It's becoming the norm when we go out for our walks these days. He does this and refuses to get up off the ground until he's caught his breath. I think it's time to start looking around for his replacement.


Cedric repping on top of a phone booth


And for all those who asked? Yes. The trip really sucked. But it's Virginia. What do you expect?

One last thing.

The Olympics?

TOTALLY ADDICTED.

My apologies in advance to everyone for falling off of the grid until August 24th. Seriously nothing makes me feel more patriotic than watching Canadian athletes engaging in physical activity. Especially when we have such a good looking contingent this year. Mmm.


Brent Hayden, one of our medal hopefuls


Our flagbearer Adam van Koeverden

Go team Canada.

R.I.P. Robert.

Few people have moved me like Robert Goulet. Now there'll be no need for nuts to ward him off at 3:00 PM


It was a good ride while it lasted. Of course Will Ferrel immortalised the man, Aiya and I still sporadically scream out "GOULET" at the most inopportune moments. Aiya's ipod's name? Goulet.


From one Canadian to another, R.I.P.

Evolution by numbers.

Exhibit A

When we migrated to Canada Loku Mammah gave Thathi a pair of flannel pyjamas (which of course he refuses to get rid of and have now become a sort of family heirloom. Don't ask. Apparently this is how we honour the the memory of our loved ones, with flannel intimates). I've only ever seen him wear them once, and that was after major dental surgery. Not overly sure what dental surgery and pj's have in common, but whatevs. It was weird. Like bizzaro weird. Thathi quite simply should not wear pyjamas. Ever. It's wrong.

For as long as I could fit, I used to sit in the folds of his sarong like it was a swing, this was made easier due to the copious amount of time Thathi sat in front of the TV watching sports. I was like Roo and would quite happily while away my time pretending to understand what was going on on the TV or reading a Bernstein Bears book. Thathi's sarong and my childhood go hand in hand together.

Aiya never started wearing a sarong until he went back to Sri Lanka for the first time at 19, the heat was too much for him to handle. Now, like Thathi, in the dead of winter he still prefers a stripped cotton sarong to a pair of flannel pyjamas.

Of course the Sri Lankan sarong wearing male has had to undergo an evolution of sorts in order to survive Canada's harsh winters. They have learned to adapt.

1. The double chin
This extra layer of flub is important to maintain warmth, a type of insulation if you will. Thathi has had this along with the beard for as long as I've known him.

Aiya fortunately has always been a fat ass.

2. The '80s sweater
It is absolutely necessary that a sweater or sweatshirt from an incorrect era is worn in conjunction with the sarong. The more it clashes the better. Thathi gravitates towards off the rack Sears sweaters, but that's just a personal preference of his.

3. The remote control
When watching any type of sporting event at home, it is an abomination to do so in anything other than a sarong. Okay, maybe just at our house. But still.

4. The annoying family member
Nowadays Oliver is the only family member that can actually safely sit in the folds of Thathi's or Aiya's sarong. When Ollie was a puppy he used to flip over on his back and play with toys. Now he's an old lazy ass who just curls up and goes to sleeps in there.

5. The threadbare sarong
By all accounts a worn sarong is better than a new one. The crispness of the cotton makes it uncomfortable to sit in, and from what I've gathered it's no fun to wear either. However to achieve that worn feeling quickly, tossing said sarong into the dryer a few bajillion times would not hurt.

6. The white socks
The feet need to be insulated. 'Nuff said.

7. Gap of hilarity
This just may well be grasping, because I mean, this entire get-up is pretty absurd on its own. I feel like the sock gap between the bottom of the sarong and the top of the tube sock just pushes it over the edge though.

Salaam Alaikum.

Coming to a jihad near you

Next month is Black History Month, which means the charming, well dressed African American men with educational pamphlets will soon be outside of St. George Station generally getting in the way and causing people to be late for class. About four years back I was rushing to a politics class at Sid Smith, rocking the same keffiyeh that Ollie's got on when one of the African American scholars turned to me and shouted "Salaam Alaikum, sister!" Under normal circumstances I would've lost my shit at him for condescending to call me "sister," but surprisingly in this instance I returned the greeting "Alaikum Salaam" and got a bit adventurous.

Yes.

I busted out my poor excuse for Wolof as I had a sneaking suspicion that this fellow just may be Sénégalaise, and it turned out he was. What followed was the rapid fire traditional "greeting" which is just one person interogating the other on a myriad of different topics ranging from family, health to business. He was surprised to say the least, when I brought up Daara J.

And that is why I love Toronto. I can get away with wearing a keffiyeh, prattling away in piss poor Wolof and relate this story to any one of you, and in turn none of you would even bat an eyelid. (Although Thorn's very verbose friend would counter that a keffiyeh is one of "the most offensive items of clothing that one could possibly wear. As this clearly and blatantly show support for the PLO and other such terrorist organisations." In all my many years of wearing one, I must say that was the first time anyone has pulled that out of their ass!)

Well, this is life in a robust multicultural city (and yes, my cheque from Ontario Tourism is in the mail, thank you for inquiring). The thing is, I think we Torontonians unlike most other cosmopolitan city dwellers have come to the understanding that, yeah, no shit Sherlock, culture is fluid, and as much as you'd like to box it in, you can't. I also think that I've read too many pages of The Ground Beneath Her Feet in a concentrated period of time, and may very well be spouting off too much Rushdie. (Great book by the way.)

Quebec? Yes, we get it, you speak French, you're a "distinct" society within a "unified Canada." But why harp on that? The polarising nature of the whole separatist debate stagnates Canadian politics to a certain degree. This debate, and "controversy" has been around since the Natives were given the boot. What about cultural inclusion? I'm not talking about coming to Canada and living in your own little enclaves trying to emulate life in the mother land to a T. But look at someone like Deepa Mehta.

Born in India, a naturalised Canadian citizen based in Toronto, makes a Hindi movie set in Varanasi. Which is actually shot in Sri Lanka with a lead actress who is Polish/Indian and was born and brought up in Missisauga. Water, which I've forced most of you to watch at least a part of is incredible, so it should come as no surprise that yesterday it was announced as being on the shortlist for best foreign language film at the Oscars. Canada's contribution I may add. Mehta's film follows in the footsteps of French-Canadian films like the Oscar winning Barbarian Invasions and nominated C.R.A.Z.Y.

I personally don't think there's anything more Canadian than that.

Which is why shows like Little Mosque on the Prairie, can air in Canada and not even raise an eyebrow of controversy in its home country. But have the US media up in arms. Our inbred cousins to the South have got their eye on us! I checked it out last Tuesday night after the Mercer Report like the good CBC supporter that I am.

I was pleasantly surprised but thought I'd wait until the second episode aired before I weighed in with an opinion. I like it. It's smart, funny and it doesn't just focus in on the Muslims in the small town cliche. It also examines the whole idea of Toronto being the centre of Canada, and well, other Canadians being more than a little irked by that. Although one quibble that I do have, I wish they had a "progressive" practising Muslim woman on the show who didn't wear a burqa.

OoOoOo.

That's right, it looks like the diatribe is back!

How could another Sri Lankan be so cruel??

I'm going to miss you too.
All good things have to come to an end eventually I guess. What exactly is a "day job" anyways? And Nirmala how could you be so cruel? It's just downright mean spirited. I don't know how good controller.controller's going to be now that she's gone, considering she was like their heart and soul right there. The trappings of being incredibly kick ass musicians who make no money I guess?

And I know, they announced the split in October. Is it wrong that I live a hermit like existence under a rock? Will you not let me grieve in peace?

I bid you adieu and wait with bated breath for the day when you guys decide to reunite. The Toronto music scene is just not going to be the same without you, nay the Canadian one won't be the same either. Melodramatic? Maybe? But you know it's true.

Boo.

And in other news, that piece of shit "musician" M.I.A. is still "recording."

There is evidently no justice at all in this world.

I leave you with what could have been.

Please excuse me but I got to ask...

Are you only being nice
Because you want something*

What follows is a really lame ass attempt at a real post. This one's for you my 4 loyal readers. I know it's been awhile so enjoy the esotericism while you can, because it's just a matter of time before I become facetious again.

Remember William Sampson? And Maher Arar? Sampson proved to me that soft power diplomacy in the Canadian context is a bunch of bullshit, because uh, we kind of have no power, soft or hard. I came to the painful realisation that if one day I found myself in a similar bind, my country would most likely fail me. Arar's issue is just frightening on so many different levels. I mean seriously. All you can do is look at what happened to him and say wtf? The whole idea of dual citizenship now makes me queasy. It's so evident that if your "other" citizenship happens to be in the wrong country, you're pretty fubared.

Are your spider senses tingling? Could this be a rant about the government's responsibility to uphold my Charter Rights? So close, yet so far. (Remember that earlier bit about this being lame ass? This is where it comes in.) See I was reading the newspaper and came across these two great articles about what it means to be a Canadian in light of what's been going down in Lebanon.

Canadian woman taking the piss out of a Lebanese soldier. For more heart warming pictures go here.

Given my predilection for wanting to get the hell out of Toronto as soon as possible - I love you t-dot, but even those in the most stable relationships need space - you can imagine that this would be a matter of concern for me. I sympathise with everyone who had to be evacuated, I'm sure that Lebanon must be a real hell hole right now. But what gets my quince is that a vast majority of those evacuees were permanent residents of Lebanon. Who were (sometimes ungratefully) airlifted out at the expense of the Canadian tax payer. There were reports that dual Lebanese-Canadian passport holders who hadn't lived in Canada for decades were given preference over Canadian permanent residents! Something just doesn't equate. You decide to leave Canada, settle down in Beirut, run your business raise your kids and be active members of life in Lebanon and then when shit happens you turn to Canada to bail you out?

Now fast forward to when I have given into my predilection. Myself and my (drop dead gorgeous husband) François have been settled down in Côte d'Ivoire for a couple of years and our kids attend a tony private school in Abidjan. Some sort of serious destabilisation within the country happens, and all foreign nationals need to leave as soon as possible. Hubby is a French passport holder and can easily leave but he works for an IGO and is obligated to stay as he is "essential" staff. I still travel on my Canadian passport, and my brats are dual nationals of both France and Canada. Here's the issue, they're both under the age of 8 and they've never lived in either country because François and I have been globe trotting for the last 13 years. We have neither contributed to society in Canada or France we do however work in the development sector and as such it would be "ethically" okay for me and the brats to be evacuated by the Canadian military.

I guess what this poorly executed post is actually trying to get at is this. What difference does it make if I've lived in Abidjan for 13 years as the wife of the CFO of Nestles West Africa (because, come on guys, you so know that François could handle that shit) or in the capacity of a bleeding heart aid worker. Both circumstances in my opinion are no different from the other, but it's all about perception right? As I've mentioned before, (and also annoyed most of you in person by voicing,) they're both inherently selfish. At the end of the day both a Canadian and a Frenchman have willingly left their countries of origins to make a life for themselves elsewhere. Do both scenarios deserve the same kind of attention in such a situation? The taxpaying public of Canada is definitely going to be much more sympathetic to the bleeding heart than they are to CFO. But is it fair?

So? This conundrum is now another one of those "factors" I'd have to think about before hightailing it out of here. Dual citizenship has been off the list for awhile now, as has the Middle East. Fortunately though François is brainier than a brain pudding and he'll be able to figure something out eventually.

*The Eraser. Sorry, I just can't stop listening to it!

Summah

As I've mentioned a few times already, I love Toronto, unashamedly and unabashedly. Although I'm not a huge fan of the sweltering, flesh cooking heat that we've been experiencing as of late, I still believe that summer time in this city is the best. You're not dealing with slush, salt, boots, and my personal favourite: wet cuffs on your pants.

Anywhere I've been, no matter what the length of time has been, I'm always struck by how kicking this city is. However, after my stint in Sri Lanka this year I've come home a touch confused. Is it just me or have Torontonians become more desperate? Or perhaps it might just be people who make the mistake of taking summer school? It doesn't matter what Canadian city you live in, as soon as the weather hits 14+ people (namely boys) will bust out the shorts and birkis assaulting as all with their iridescent white legs. It's not pretty, but it goes to show the love affair that this country has with the summer. This love methinks translates into the need to hook-up. Granted this issue is probably foremost on most single people's minds during the cold season as well, but it just hits a fever pitch when it's warm. Perhaps it's because hotpants have made a comeback? But really I don't know.

Here is a bit of an anomaly. The last time I checked, I was festively plump. Added to the plumpness I have a terrible farmer's tan from two months in motherland and yellow legs. The brown person's answer to pasty whiteness. Now friends, these are the facts. What I don't understand is the increase in drink offers since coming home. Can someone explain? Do I suddenly look like an alcoholic? Or perhaps it's because as I hinted above, I'm dealing with a new type of desperate? I mean, as Whoren has so kindly pointed out on numerous occasions, only really geeky people do summer school. And I agree. So maybe these summer school geeks are just more desperate than normal geeks in the summer?

Does anyone have answers to these burning questions of mine?

And so, here are a few random observations.

Toronto the Good

Regularly working A/C on the TTC. Dude. If you've ever travelled in one of the faulty cars, you know.

Saigon subs!

The dumpy fellow in the faded black t-shirt who offered to hold my books while I launched World War III against my umbrella, who during that particular torrential downpour deemed it appropriate to flip inside out. Multiple times.

The graffitti on the door of the last stall in the lady's washroom at Pratt. "Don't be pretentious on a bathroom stall." Love it! Mostly because it's only pretentious bastards who use Pratt ever. Damn artsies.

Toronto the Bad

Buying an ice cream cone, and then having the ice cream man try to bum smokes off of me.

The cute hipster watching the World Cup final behind me at the Beac who was about 6'2 and had a waistline I would die for.

Not being able to meet up with the core four more often.

Having to stoop and scoop.

Aiya moving out.

Late Breaking News

So. Um. I'm back?

Two months in Sri Lanka.

Worked once again with the most brilliant people I've ever met, and most probably that I'll ever meet period.

Met a really dodgy Auditor. (A Clyde to my Bonnie if you will. Or is it a Bonnie to my Clyde? Maybe even a Butch Cassidy to my Sundance Kid? A Thelma to my Louise? And now? All this outlaw talk? It's just left me confused.)

Discovered I have an Alcoholic Cousin Who Has An Affinity For Vodka. (Here after ACWHAAFV). Confirmed the general suspicion that it is indeed the Tamil side of the family who knows how to party.

Watched another (more sane) cousin walk down the aisle and felt a bit queasy because, my God. We're getting old! Time's not waiting up for me and I still feel like I'm 15.

Met a friend from Toronto in Colombo and was told that I had acquired a slight Sri Lankan accent. Nearly died. My worst fear realised. Full blame rests on the shoulders of the Auditor and the ACWHAAFV. Have attempted to drop said accent but it creeps up ever so often, especially when accidentally blurting out "yeah men."

Conned an entire city into believing that I am indeed a good person with morals and a level head on my shoulder. (Yeah, is your stomach cramping from laughter too?). The farce my friends is now officially international.

Engaged in some suspect behaviour that made me feel like a bonafide Sri Lankan (and not a hyphenated one) for the first time in my entire life.

Came home 3 weeks ago. Incidentally on Canada Day, couldn't have orchestrated a better day to land.

So, that kind of sums up all the main points of the last two months pretty well I think? Suprisingly succinct isn't it? Have no fear though, I'm still long winded and verbose. Just really lazy today that's all.

This Just In
Very little time these days for leisure writing children. This naturally can be a problem when one does not have any leisure to speak of. I'm in the thick of summer school. And yeah, I ask myself every day wtf I was thinking when I decided to sign up for not one but TWO courses. As a result there are a limited amount of subjects I can blog about coherently. (But wait, when was I ever coherent?)


- Yet another grainey photo that proves I'd be an amazing spy!But this is in the name of fashion, Robert Best from Project Runway

My spare time has been spent on the following: Enlightenment philosophy and its role in political theory and the concept of lost love in the collected works of Anton Chekhov. Why such light hearted and fun subjects you ask? Papers my friend. Papers. That's all I have time for. Well. And reality TV of course. I outed my dirty TV habits awhile ago and you're already well aware of my penchant for Bollywood and collegiate humour (more specifically anything with a Wilson, Stiller or Ferrell). And now with the new season of Project Runway airing a bit earlier than usual, do you understand why I haven't been blogging? I mean, that's all the justification you need. (That and the fact that Zizou took up most of my time when I came home. But we won't talk about that just yet.) I'm behind Robert, because, um how freaking cute is he? The little pot belly and tank-top combo? Loving it! And, I'm waiting like everyone else for Vincent to have Woody Allen-esque breakdown on national television.

Well my pets, hopefully my updates will be more frequent, but I wouldn't count on it (due to the aforementioned laziness.) First let's see if I even survive this coming week. That's right! Ammi's at home and Hezbollah's got nothing on her.

Mike 4 Prez

I really like my Canadian history course. Because unlike Canadian politics, it doesn't focus on *yawn* federalism. Yesterday while sitting in the George Ignatieff theatre gearing myself up for another great lecture (my professor is amazing). I again realised that politics is much like high school. Sometimes humoursly so. My prof is an older man, who bears a striking resemblance to one of ammi's more affable uncles. So when he likened Michael Ignatieff to a media whore like former PM John Diefenbaker, I laughed. Laughed more than is appropriate for Canadian history, because its very nature is to bring people to tears.

Being a 'founding' member of the United Nations, you better believe that Canada was present, but completely invisible at the April 1945 UN conference in San Fran. We represented yo. Dief, who was a member of the Conservative party tried to poke himself into the negotiations which were being handled by Mackenzie King's Liberals. Long story short, Dief decided that it would be beneficial towards his cause to get into negotiations by having his face snapped up by the attending photogs. As my prof put it 'Much like my esteemed colleague from the depatment of Political Science is doing right now, using his face to further his cause.' I think Prof. Bothwell is perhaps a wee bit jealous? I've never heard anyone call him a cerebral sex symbol.

Then again, he is bald.

*yay* Time to hit the hustings!

Jerry: Why are you calling my parents?
Kramer: Well, maybe if you called more often, I wouldn't have to. Listen, is it all right if I watch a tape in here?
Jerry: Why here?
Kramer: Well, I'm taping Canadian Parliament, you know on C-Span.
Jerry: Ok...
Kramer: Is it all right if I watch it in your bedroom, cause your bed is really nice?
Jerry: Fine...
Kramer: Ok!
[Newman runs in with two boxes of popcorn.]
Seinfeld - The Blood

Usually there's not much happening in the winter to get me excited. However early 2006 is panning out to be incredible, my inner nerd is beside herself. By now it's old news about what happened in Parliament last night. Interestingly enough, they did show the no confidence vote live on C-SPAN in the states, so I really hope my American friends got a chance to see it happen. I for one was glued to the CBC as is my wont. Unfortunately it wasn't as exciting as the one in May, when Belinda Stronach crossed the floor, ripping out Peter MacKay's heart in the process. The most tragic thing of all was that I was in Sri Lanka when it happened, and never got a chance to revel in any of it, reading a newspaper online really doesn't cut it for a politics junkie. Had I been at home, you so know I would've been all over that like a dirty shirt.

Well, with all that said I shall watch with rabid interest what happens to Michael Ignatieff. Am I allowed to say a big fat I told you so? Not that it really matters, because I know no one really cares about Canadian politics. Let the record state, as soon as I heard his speech at the Liberal convention in March (and really, Bono, you totally stole his thunder) I (and some others) knew the man was going into 'real' politics, instead of just blathering on about it like the rest of us. I'm hoping he'll win a leadership bid, just because I think it'd be really interesting to see how he'd attempt to inject some life into fuddy duddy Ottawa. Although our Parliament isn't half as interesting as Taiwan's I'm pretty sure the MPs will have a swell time mud slinging. He may ooze sophistication and brains, but boyfriend does have a bit of a sketchy past. There is a fear that if he does ever become the PM Canada's international standing might increase because of his 'celebrity' (read: only political science students like myself see him as a celebrity). At the same time, (and not unfounded either) folks are a bit apprehensive of us becoming tools of the United States, given his stance on the whole Iraq thing. And to you conspiracy theorists out there, nobody cares about Canada. So it's not going to be too much of an issue.

There shall be campaigning during the Christmas season. What do I expect? Stephen Harper dressed as Santa ringing a bell, standing in front of a red kettle and collecting money for the Salvation Army. Paul Martin handing out soup to the homeless. Gilles Duceppe trimming a Christmas tree in a hospital with a bunch of young cancer survivors. And last but definitely not least, Jack Layton and Olivia Chow singing inter-faith Xmas carrols for the ice skating crowd at Nathan Phillips Square.

It all really does warm the cockles of my empty, empty heart.

Poppy-quette

I have a tough time not losing my poppy. Usually in the course of a day I've lost it at least twice, only to find it attached to some random piece of clothing. Considering the important symbolic context of the poppy, you'd think that in general one would be able to fasten it to one's self with something a bit more sturdy than a pin. A safety pin would definitely be a step up from a regular pin. I mean come on.

A few things get my quince around Rememberance Day, and simply put I guess it revolves around poppy etiquette.

1. Wear it on the left side. Not on the right. On a bag. On a hat. Or with green eggs and ham. There's a reason why we wear things on the left (like a wedding ring, or one of those shmancy engineering rings) it's because it's close to your heart.

2. Don't stick some random thing in the middle of your poppy. It has that green thing in there for a reason, not for you to stick some gawdawful Canada pin in the middle.

3. Technically you're not supposed to wear it after the 11 November. It's just not classy.

4. Although immensely fun, don't pull out the pin, fold the red felt in half, and stick it in your mouth to create fuzzy red lips. Uh. Not that I've ever done that.

We had to memorise this when I was in elementary school.

I'll wear a little poppy,

As red as red can be,

To show that I remember

Those who fought for me.

Horror Stories from the Ivory Towers

Safe to say that I'm not the only one who's drowning in a ridiculous amount of work for Uni? What is up with the mass conspiracy to murder your students in the middle two weeks of October you tenured professors? Jebus.

One of the ways I cope with stress is to get annoyed. Annoyed easily at really small mundane things. Because I'm petty like that.

Bananas
I'm not a huge fan of bananas. Caribbean plantain as a side to oxtail stew and peas? I'm so there. Bananas by themselves straight out of the peel? Not so much. And it's not because of this general dislike for bananas that I believe that eating them in public should be banned. But have you noticed that people tend to over chew bananas? There really is a reason why this is one of the first foods moms give their babies. You don't need teeth to eat them. Which means you don't need to chew them, they're mush for Pete's sake. The sound of an over chewed banana drives me to a homicidal rage. Especially in an area that is full of silence, or where the drone of one solitary voice is gently putting me to sleep, i.e. a lecture. Stop. Before I kill.

Well Groomed People
Seriously? Where do you guys get the time? And more specifically how come I don't have the same leisure? My hair is now entering into its umpteenth day of general grossness; when pulled back into a ponytail it looks more like a squirrel's tail. And you guys know how much I hate squirrels, so this is distressing to me. The other day when I was at the Dollar Store picking some randomness up, someone asked me if I worked there. That. Never. Happens. I felt like sitting down and crying in the middle of the aisle because my worst fear has become realised. I look like I belong in Scarborough. All my life I've been trying to run away from that reality. But I guess now is as good a time as ever to embrace the ghetto fabulousness that surrounds me.

Umesh
Yeah. He still bugs me. I have the pleasure of being in a class again with him this year.
Me: So how was your Thanksgiving?
Him: Oh, I don't celebrate Thanksgiving
Me: *pretending to be uninterested b/c I so already regret asking him anything* I was thankful for the day off
Him: I think the whole concept of Thanksgiving is stupid, because we're effectively celebrating the genocide of an entire population, because that's what happened when the pioneers came to Canada...
Me: Yeah I don't really like turkey all that much either...

I don't even want to know what his thoughts on Christmas are. All I know is that he needs to extricate that pickle that seems to be permanently lodged in his nether regions soon. Otherwise it could become very septic. (<-- I just finished watching an episode of House. In retrospect I guess I could've used that time to groom myself. Damn you hindsight.)

"Come on Trinitians, be sporty!"*

*translation: Come on you guys who went to Trinity College, have some sportsmanship!

Well kiddos, as soon as I get the beloved Mac checked out and serviced I'll post pictures of what I've been up to. Trying to explain would be too painful for both you and I.

I went to the rugby sevens tournament this weekend with thathi. What a washout, we drove all the way to Brampton to stand in the rain and get wet socks. It was good times. In the past I've attempted to explain the nature of the 'Old Boys Association' which is just the Sri Lankan way of saying 'alumni association.' Thathi is an 'old boy' of St. Thomas' College (STC) and in the interest of hooking up with some old classmates off we went.

It's always fun watching the uncles get hammered on smuggled beer and start yelling indecipherable things at rivals. This year they had the most teams represented so there was plenty of trash talking. The above quote was a result of the perfect mix of booze and unbridled STC pride after a drunk Trinitian hurled insults at our coach. Fortunately a big burly Peterite (St.Peter's) was there to stop the sloshed uncle from rushing the field.

Incidentally this was the first exclusively Sri Lankan gathering that I've been to since coming home. (And no. Church doesn't count!) It was nice to hear people chatting away in Sinhala and it reminded me how the gap between my dual identities are beginning to fill in, the distance to bridge is getting smaller. While this process of reconciliation between the Sri Lankan and Canadian is great, in some ways it blows as much as being confused did.

Something that struck me while in Colombo was the general narrowmindedness of some folks back in Sri Lanka. Especially in relation to how 'Sri Lankan' I actually am, or more appropriately, not. I don't think that it's an issue that can be quantified but it's interesting to see how people attempt to do so.

My Canadian accent was accused of being fake by more than one person. Apparently it's unusual for someone who has lived in Toronto for 18 years to speak like me. Although my Sinhala was good enough to get by it's far from perfect but never once was I laughed at when I tried to speak with someone who had no knowledge of English. You can just imagine the reactions I got from the English speaking populace. Something along the lines of when Copto busts out his French immersion skills to me. What really gets my quince however is the constant need I felt in having to assert my 'Sri Lankaness.' At first I didn't mind, but then it became downright irritating.

Things aren't like that here for us. Come on, think about it. If you happen to be reading this then chances are I know you. If I know you then chances are you're either an immigrant like me or a second generation Canadian. And due to the wickedly mutlicultural nature of the society we've grown up in, for someone to be Indo-Canadian, Irish-Canadian or any other hyphenated variation thereof, it's not crazy for us to not only view them as true Canadians but also accept them as that. No questions asked. No skill testing question. No language based examination.

Wish I could say the same for the motherland.

Oh yeah. Trinity got their ass kicked in by St. Thomas' 29-0. And Thathi was thinking 'blue, black and blue forever.'

So, you're insane?

Claire: What's wrong with the belt?
Jerry: I went to the movies last night, I went to the bathroom and I unbuckled a little wobbly and the buckle kind of banged against the side of the urinal. So…(throws away belt) that’s it!
Claire: So, you're insane?*

Okay. So maybe it wasn't a belt buckle. But it was still disgusting, I had to rip the dangly hem off the bottom of my jeans (left leg) because it dragged on a WET bathroom floor. It was as disgusting as it sounds. Trust me on this one.

Deep Thoughts. More along the lines of Jack Handey

I miss Thorn. If she was here and not in Paris I would have dragged her to see Daara J with me. They were in Toronto a few days back. When I was in Senegal they were really popular, I thought I'd meet some Wolof speakers at the show. How fun would that have been? Granted I'm a bit rusty, but the looks on peoples faces would have been priceless. (As they have been in the past).

Why does The Edge play such crappy music sometimes? I'm listening to a remixed version of Metric's Dead Disco. Why ruin something that's good?

I read this on a fellow Sri Lankan's blog and thought it was funny. Especially the dialogue that ensues in the comments section. It's all so sadly funny.

I need a new pair of sneakers. Well, when do I actually need a new pair of shoes? I got some back GST/HST cheques in the mail. Which means I have cash to blow on sneakers. But I need your help. Should I go with this, this or this?

(Un)fortunately I completely missed the whole Live 8 dealeo. I was stuck in three different airports in the course of the day, on my way home. I happened to catch the tiniest bit of it on one of the many screens in Heathrow, it was altogether uninteresting to me. However, I love the Kaiser Chiefs and unbeknownst to me they played Live 8 Philly. AOL has so kindly put up clips of all the performances. Bless them. But what's with the randomness that played in Rome?

Why is it so hot outside? Someone throw an ice cream cone at my head and call me a unicorn. Please.

Our new deck is almost finished. 3 months later.

I find this whole thing deplorable. That man's life has essentially been ruined and for no good cause. And let's not even get started on this.

I want to see Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. I don't mind going solo, but feel weird going alone to a kids movie. Seems a bit pedophile Pete-ish doesn't it? Thus Alby has been enlisted to go and watch it on Simcoe Day.

Oliver smells like popcorn today, and he ate a rubberband this morning.

And this was the most random post. Ever.

*Seinfeld Episode 158: The Voice

Resort fun circa 1986

l-r Aiya, me and Gunther

I was digitizing a whole bunch of pictures last weekend. They were all really old school, from 1988 and earlier. Our entire life before we came to Canada pretty much. Most of the photographs are getting fuzzy and faded especially the colour ones from the 70s, but you know the old cliche "a picture is worth a thousand words." Most of them are really goofy, you know the usual collection of family photographs, nothing really profound exactly like our lives. As I was going through them though, I was struck by the above photo. Ammi had just gone to L.A. or to London (i don't remember which) and she was gone for about a month, so she and Thathi decided that we would go down south to a resort for a couple of days to spend some time together as a family. Aiya of course made fast friends with another little boy whom he spent most of our vacation with. His name was Gunther and he was visiting from Germany, he didn't speak any English and aiya didn't speak any German. They were pretty much insperable. Whenever Gunther's mom wanted to find him, she'd come to ammi and ask in broken English where he was, and Ammi did the same thing when she was looking for aiya. (Except not in broken English. I hope so at least.)

Even though this picture was taken almost 20 years ago, I couldn't but help thinking about the tsunami. It didn't take pictures of orphans in the newspapers, or black and bloated dead bodies on the internet for the gravity of the situation to hit me at a personal level. It was the picture of the three of us innocently smiling that did it for me. I wonder how many other little Gunthers and Erajs had become fast friends during an idyllic trip to the beaches of the south. It makes me go cold thinking about it. Not to be dramatic or anything, but that's what sealed the deal for me.

Speaking of tsunamis though, I think the current death toll is at 220,000. It's mind boggling to know that a lot of those deaths could have been prevented if there was a proper tsunami warning system in place. The amount of money that ordinary people are pouring out for relief is incredible too. I witnessed it first hand myself when i was taking phone pledges at the Canada for Asia benefit concert. There are some incredibly generous individuals out there. I was watching a documentary on the genocide in Sudan last nigt on the CBC called Living with Refugees. It was incredibly thought provoking. 300,000 people have died so far in the genocide there, and there are a further 2 million refugees. (That count doesn't include the amount of internally displaced people.) Here is another 'disaster' that could be averted. It's not as if people don't care, they do care, but it's difficult to get the attention of the neccessary people in government. Because really who are we kidding? Why should any of the Western nations help those in the Darfur region? There's absolutely no political gain to be had. Canada is more than willing to help with the tsunami relief efforts though. But only in Sri Lanka, even though Indonesia was the hardest hit area. Gee. I wonder why that would be. It probably has nothing to do with the huge Sri Lankan immigrant population in some of the key cities across Canada. I wonder how many votes the Liberals would be able to extract out of the Sudanese-Canadians?

*climbing off soapbox*