So Vindicated hit me with a tag for that whole "letter to your 16 year old self thing" and I believe it's been years since I was last compelled to take part in one of these memes. How dare you! Thinking back to 16 makes me so depressed because I can barely remember that far back. I've decided to be sporting (despite not knowing the rules) so here goes.
You know that feeling that you get? When you look back at your 13 year old-self? And want to slap her silly? That does not fade. You will constantly want to go back in time and roundhouse kick some sense into your past self. Something tells me that we will always feel like this no matter.
Where should I start?
16 is a monumental year for you. First off, that brain aneurysm that Ammi will supposedly die of? No fear, that wasn't an aneurysm and she's actually still alive. You will however carry the emotional trauma of that and the fall out from her illness around for a long time. Actually both you and Aiya do, and in typical fashion deal with it in completely opposite ways. You both survive. Next year will sort of suck though, not going to lie. You decide that you're going to completely rebel against everything and become a serious pain in the ass. Like for real. You break your parents' heart by turning against religion, God and the institutionalised church, but they both survive. Despite the turmoil so do you. Your relationship with them drastically changes, but that's to be expected.
You feel stifled. Believe me. This feeling NEVER GOES AWAY. You will always feel suffocated you also believe that life will change once you get out of your tiny shit school and meet some new people. Fact: Life still sucks and all those friends you labeled as being "circumstantial," (just your friends because there are no other options) actually turn out to be the best friends you will ever have in life. You stay close to them through your undergraduate degrees, med school, law school, teachers college. You name it. You will be a bridesmaid and hate every moment of it, but you suck it up and do it. Then they start having babies, (which yes, even now freaks you out) and you have no idea what to do with these small creatures, but as they start getting older and you see flashes of their parents in their faces you realise that your past nomadic life may well be in the past because you're actually around to see this shit happen.
Yeah, you know that whole traveling thing? It dogs you man, all your life and you totally embrace it. You travel, a lot (your goal of living and working in two countries on every continent is right on track). And you experience all sorts of fantastic things. That drive to live in another country out of a suitcase sort of wanes eventually, but never dies! You start to realise how much you're missing at home. With that said, the time you spent working at an NGO in Sri Lanka? Good on you. Sometimes you'll wonder wtf you're doing, but stick with it. If anything it gives you a chance to know your family and grandparents in Colombo on a level that would never have been possible before. Looking back you'll be happy about this because your grandfather does not live forever, you won't be full of regrets like aiya.
Speaking of Sri Lanka, you are blown away by the awesome people you meet while you're there (none of whom you work with or are related to hah). One of them will even move to Canada and ingrain himself in your life, the same way those friends from high school do. He becomes a common fixture at the Christmas dinner table, the guest bedroom and even gets exposed to Aiya's girlfriends too.
You become easier on the people around you and become much more accepting. This is a good thing because your social sphere also expands and your friends become an eclectic mix of strangeness. You will never attempt to gather them all in one place for this reason.
The best example of this is the monumental nerd that flies into your peripheral this year. You will ignore him. For years. And years. He will tutor your baby cousin in calculus and you won't know he exists until one Thanksgiving you're forced to roast 38 turkeys and have no other option than to speak to him. Go with it. He will irritate you, you will want to kill him, but give him a chance because he turns out to be nothing at all like you expected. He reads Wuthering Heights voluntarily and becomes slightly less nerdy because of your influence. In turn he becomes a place of calm and reasoning in the midst of much insanity for you. It also helps that he's deliciously good looking and most of the single females in your acquaintance are madly jealous.
The most important thing that you'll discover later in life is how to weed people out. This is pertinent to your well being. All those people who are on a crusade to save you from yourself? Good news! They'll mostly be gone by the time you hit your 3rd year of university. You stop feeling the need to explain yourself to people and being misunderstood isn't so bad because you stop caring. Life keeps going on and it's not that bad.
Unfortunately you're a bit hit and miss in the boy department. Most of your relationships fizzle out and die a pathetic death because you refuse to be changed. A douche will famously quote to you the third stanza from "Marching Bands of Manhattan" in an attempt to make you feel badly about yourself, but instead you will feel emboldened and kick him to the curb. This is a trend that continues with you. It is also awesome.
You are also still terribly verbose. We will stop now.
Annnnnnnnnd I tag Tiny Little Fascist and Curious Yellow.
Showing posts with label aiya. Show all posts
Showing posts with label aiya. Show all posts
Monday, November 23, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
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.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
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.
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.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Blurgh.
I'm feeling a bit muddled so advanced apologies for the following post. Don't judge me. It's not going to make much sense. My advice is to just look at the pictures?
The last week and a bit has seen me drag my ass out of bed in the mornings. Waking up has become decidedly more difficult in recent times. The stupid thing is that I can't sleep in past 9 AM on a Saturday morning anymore which leads me to perch with my laptop in bed to catch-up on work. Lame I know. Invariably this means Oliver manages to wriggle himself into prime laptop real estate rendering work impossible.
I've had that blazer since my first year of university. Got it for 10 bucks at Urban Outfitters in the "preloved" section. It's probably one of the cheapest things that's lasted the longest in my wardrobe. That scarf is a hacked up sarong that someone gave to Aiya thinking he'd wear. If I'm not mistaken it's from Kerala and is something called "digital" batik. Yeah, I don't know what that is either.
The above shade of blue is quickly becoming my favourite colour for this spring/summer. Aunty Esther got me that scarf for my birthday. Although it's hard to believe it looks much better on me than on Oliver. I prefer to not wear it as a burqa.
Most recent frivolous shoe purchase? Purple suede kitten heels for work. That scarf was the result of a Salvation Army rummage sometime near the turn of the last century.
Hey! Look! It's that shade of blue again. I've stopped just randomly going into stores for no reason because 1. pretty soon I will be broke (yay for school!) and 2. I have no self control.
Been rocking a lot of saris lately. This is the one I wore to Ann's wedding.
Got this one for 15 bucks. Ammi would never let me wear this for any kind of Sri Lankan-type function because um, it was 15 bucks and also it doesn't look like someone threw-up sequins all over it. It worked well for Labro's mom's 50th birthday though. (I know, I still can't get over how young her parents are either. Mine are such dinosaurs.) I love the print on it though. It feels so kitschy and I usually couple it with my Lee denim jacket with the collar popped.
Another 15 buck find. What? There was a sale. Haven't had a chance to wear this one yet, I'm thinking maybe this weekend for Labro's shower? I love the blue on this and again the kitsch makes me feel a bit squee. Alas the denim jacket will not work in this situation, the shades of blue don't go. I may need to buy gladiator sandals just to couple with it. Hmmm.
I spent most of today mucking about in the kitchen with tablecloths, bedsheets, random coasters and ramekins. I'm trying to figure out the best way to take pictures of v-manties bridal cakes, mini-cakes and cupcakes for her portfolio. Aiya picked up the cutest glass coaster sets from China town about three summers back to use outside for barbeques. Ammi is so paranoid that they'll shatter and break that they've never even seen the natural light of the sun.
He really is a good sport innit?
This February would have been Mamma and Pappa's 60th wedding anniversary. We had big plans for some sort of hoopla/family reunion, but Pappa had to go and die last year ruining all of that. This is an excerpt from the birthday letter I got from Mamma this year. You probably can't read it, but here's the important bit:
Well as for me, life is very lonely. I miss Pappa so much, I don't think I will ever get back to my former happy life. Though people say that with time life will change, I don't think it will ever be the same with me. Because ours was a very close friendship from school days and God created us for each other and he blessed us to be husband and wife. Our marriage was made in heaven and we were meant for each other. Pray for me putha to bear up this great loss..."
The story of how they hooked up is for another blogpost kids.
Speaking of grandparents though, I got a new pair of glasses that at some point in time all three of of my grandparents rocked. (The large picture is of Amammah that was taken a few months before she died and the wee one is of Mamma and Pappa just after he retired I think.)
Beginning of April is always a bit shitacular because it's the month Amammah died. You know I still have incredibly vivid dreams of her. I wake up thinking that she's alive and it feels so fantastic until I realise it's a dream. Those three books, A Tale of Two Cities, The Old Curiosity Shop and Bleak House were gifted to me by her the year I turned 10. I think I must have been in grade 4? I've got more than one copy of a Tale of Two Cities now because that original one is so tattered. That ghetto ass crocheted blanket that the books are sitting on top of is made up of leftover yarn. She used to knit for charity. Winter hats and mittens for the homeless along with baby things for low-income families. She was fantastic.
What kind of child reads Charles Dickens when they're 10? I was such a freaking nerd eh? Amammah encouraged my ridiculous reading habits and told me that any words I came across that I didn't know I should underline so that she could explain them to me in context. Not sure if she actually expected me to make it through a Tale of Two Cities or not but I carried my 2HB pencil around and made it a point to underline every single word I didn't know. This particular passage had "inexorable," "perpetuation" and "inscrutable" flagged as unknown. I still don't really know what "inexorable" means. (Those are Amammah's old reading glasses.) A Tale of Two Cities remains up there as one of my faveourite books.
When Aiya and I were really small Amammah used to make us a "white chicken curry," which was mild enough for us to eat. I don't know if other Sri Lankan homes functioned like this, but the general guideline at our place was if a meat curry was too hot for a child to eat then said piece of meat would be washed of all spices and given to non-spice eating child. This was terrible because the meat would lack all flavour. She used to make this for us as an alternative. I still get cravings for it and I can't make it exactly the way she did but the above is my vain attempt.
I wish she was still around.
The last week and a bit has seen me drag my ass out of bed in the mornings. Waking up has become decidedly more difficult in recent times. The stupid thing is that I can't sleep in past 9 AM on a Saturday morning anymore which leads me to perch with my laptop in bed to catch-up on work. Lame I know. Invariably this means Oliver manages to wriggle himself into prime laptop real estate rendering work impossible.
I've had that blazer since my first year of university. Got it for 10 bucks at Urban Outfitters in the "preloved" section. It's probably one of the cheapest things that's lasted the longest in my wardrobe. That scarf is a hacked up sarong that someone gave to Aiya thinking he'd wear. If I'm not mistaken it's from Kerala and is something called "digital" batik. Yeah, I don't know what that is either.
The above shade of blue is quickly becoming my favourite colour for this spring/summer. Aunty Esther got me that scarf for my birthday. Although it's hard to believe it looks much better on me than on Oliver. I prefer to not wear it as a burqa.
Most recent frivolous shoe purchase? Purple suede kitten heels for work. That scarf was the result of a Salvation Army rummage sometime near the turn of the last century.
Hey! Look! It's that shade of blue again. I've stopped just randomly going into stores for no reason because 1. pretty soon I will be broke (yay for school!) and 2. I have no self control.
Been rocking a lot of saris lately. This is the one I wore to Ann's wedding.
Got this one for 15 bucks. Ammi would never let me wear this for any kind of Sri Lankan-type function because um, it was 15 bucks and also it doesn't look like someone threw-up sequins all over it. It worked well for Labro's mom's 50th birthday though. (I know, I still can't get over how young her parents are either. Mine are such dinosaurs.) I love the print on it though. It feels so kitschy and I usually couple it with my Lee denim jacket with the collar popped.
Another 15 buck find. What? There was a sale. Haven't had a chance to wear this one yet, I'm thinking maybe this weekend for Labro's shower? I love the blue on this and again the kitsch makes me feel a bit squee. Alas the denim jacket will not work in this situation, the shades of blue don't go. I may need to buy gladiator sandals just to couple with it. Hmmm.
I spent most of today mucking about in the kitchen with tablecloths, bedsheets, random coasters and ramekins. I'm trying to figure out the best way to take pictures of v-manties bridal cakes, mini-cakes and cupcakes for her portfolio. Aiya picked up the cutest glass coaster sets from China town about three summers back to use outside for barbeques. Ammi is so paranoid that they'll shatter and break that they've never even seen the natural light of the sun.
He really is a good sport innit?
This February would have been Mamma and Pappa's 60th wedding anniversary. We had big plans for some sort of hoopla/family reunion, but Pappa had to go and die last year ruining all of that. This is an excerpt from the birthday letter I got from Mamma this year. You probably can't read it, but here's the important bit:
Well as for me, life is very lonely. I miss Pappa so much, I don't think I will ever get back to my former happy life. Though people say that with time life will change, I don't think it will ever be the same with me. Because ours was a very close friendship from school days and God created us for each other and he blessed us to be husband and wife. Our marriage was made in heaven and we were meant for each other. Pray for me putha to bear up this great loss..."
The story of how they hooked up is for another blogpost kids.
Speaking of grandparents though, I got a new pair of glasses that at some point in time all three of of my grandparents rocked. (The large picture is of Amammah that was taken a few months before she died and the wee one is of Mamma and Pappa just after he retired I think.)
Beginning of April is always a bit shitacular because it's the month Amammah died. You know I still have incredibly vivid dreams of her. I wake up thinking that she's alive and it feels so fantastic until I realise it's a dream. Those three books, A Tale of Two Cities, The Old Curiosity Shop and Bleak House were gifted to me by her the year I turned 10. I think I must have been in grade 4? I've got more than one copy of a Tale of Two Cities now because that original one is so tattered. That ghetto ass crocheted blanket that the books are sitting on top of is made up of leftover yarn. She used to knit for charity. Winter hats and mittens for the homeless along with baby things for low-income families. She was fantastic.
What kind of child reads Charles Dickens when they're 10? I was such a freaking nerd eh? Amammah encouraged my ridiculous reading habits and told me that any words I came across that I didn't know I should underline so that she could explain them to me in context. Not sure if she actually expected me to make it through a Tale of Two Cities or not but I carried my 2HB pencil around and made it a point to underline every single word I didn't know. This particular passage had "inexorable," "perpetuation" and "inscrutable" flagged as unknown. I still don't really know what "inexorable" means. (Those are Amammah's old reading glasses.) A Tale of Two Cities remains up there as one of my faveourite books.
When Aiya and I were really small Amammah used to make us a "white chicken curry," which was mild enough for us to eat. I don't know if other Sri Lankan homes functioned like this, but the general guideline at our place was if a meat curry was too hot for a child to eat then said piece of meat would be washed of all spices and given to non-spice eating child. This was terrible because the meat would lack all flavour. She used to make this for us as an alternative. I still get cravings for it and I can't make it exactly the way she did but the above is my vain attempt.
I wish she was still around.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
The face of a winner
Another Superbowl done and finished with. This one was meh at best. Highlight of the evening was probably the tandoori chicken wing ranch dip combo.
Sadly no witty quips on the part of aiya this year. We were in mixed company so he behaved. Although my uncle did have a few unprintable yet hilarious things to say about various ethnic groups and women. Bless 'em bigots.
Although Thathi did remark on sighting the Boss on stage for the halftime show "Shit. He looks a lot like Hugo Chavez"
Monday, December 22, 2008
philth
My failures at thoroughly cleaning out my room are well documented. The last time I attempted I got severely derailed because I found heaps of old things that I didn't know I had and then took pictures. This time an ultimatum was passed down by Ammi over the weekend. Under no circumstances was the new year allowed to befall without a complete clean up of the living quarters. What antiquated superstition she was trying to impose on me only God knows but I did comply. For very different reasons, but still.
1. Running out of clean clothes: scrounging around for clean socks and underwear at ungodly hours of the morning are not acceptable practice for someone who keeps everything so finely timed (i.e. does not roll out of bed until absolutely necessary)
2. Newly acquired clothing was going missing. Ditto for pairs of shoes. I could locate one while the other would be carelessly tossed into some corner not to be found until unneeded.
3. I was starting to get grossed out.
It should come as no surprise that having a steady paycheque has also meant a steady influx of new material possessions.
I rocked a sari for the very first time at V-mantie's wedding in October. I think alby may have very well nearly shit herself. Ammi naturally had to treat herself to some new threads as well because sari shopping with me was no easy feat. That scarf is the blouse piece from one that she picked up. The cardi's new and that t-shirt is an oldie but a goodie. Aiya bought it for me a couple of summers back and it's one of my prized possessions.
Yes. Yes. Poor Oliver. Enough. If he wants to lounge uninvited on my bed he must pay. So yet another fedora to add the collection of wool ones that I never wear. In my defence it was going on sale for 10 bucks at Urban Outfitters. How can you say no to a deal like that??
When does a super cute clutch ever need an explanation? That shirt on the other hand, it's a story in and of itself. It's actually an ancient Club Monaco shirt of Aiya's that I now wear as a wrap dress. Honestly, it's a men's XXL. There's not much else that I could do with it but I love the colour palette.
If I knew how to paint I'd imagine myself wearing a smock similar to do this while pretending to be inspired. One thing that's died very hard in my foray into bonafide corporate whoring is giving up the kitschy wardrobe. I try to mix it up as much as I can with faux-vintage pieces like this but sadly they only come out to play on casual Fridays. In my past life this would've been considered "meeting attire."
That inability to wear heels? Yeah. I still haven't found a cure for that debilitating disease yet. It's tough seeing Labro every single day at work and have her tower over me. Sadly the option of falling on my ass every time there's a lump in the rug really is not viable either. What? Flats can be hot too!
Ugh. What is up with the snow? You know all these weather peeps were saying that this year we wouldn't get pelted with as much snow as last but I think those mofos be lying yo. The last couple of days have really not been fun and from what I understand this week's not going to be overly pretty either. Thankfully I got my new boots just in time and believe me, sourcing these out was NOT an easy task. When it comes to winter boots I am uber picky. I haven't bought a new pair in over four years because I was totally in love with my old ones. (I got them from Gap kids!)
Mad Men is one of my favourite TV shows. It's interesting because out of all the shit you find running during the summer this is actually a show that Ammi and I can agree on watching. She sits back in abject horror and relives what it was like to be a woman breaking into the early days of the ad industry and lust after Ms. Holloway. Anyone who can get away with saying "décolletage" without coming across like an utter tool is A-OK in my books. If I had the above blouse and shoes around Halloween I totally would've dressed up as Joan. Alas both were rather recent acquisitions.
Vests like clutches? Never enough I say! Especially when they have been bought at 85% off the original price. Even I like to bargain shop folks. Don't be fooled.
Who knew that my new favourite pair of jeans would come from Old Navy! I sure as hell never did. Those shoes, I *heart* them but they're damn uncomfortable. I need to invest in some good insoles ASAP. Also, what is up with those weird veins popping out of my feet? WTF. I really hope it's the weird angle that I was holding the camera in because that's just creepy. From my vantage point I've never seen those before!
Handbag purchases fall into a category all on their own. Unlike a clutch I will not impulsively buy a handbag. The issue is that I hate carrying around a camera bag with all my gear shoved into it, I'd much rather have a roomy handbag. I feel a bit less paparazzo you know? This bag is parfait. It's got loads of space for my camera body, 3 lenses, external flash and even tripod attachment pieces with room left over for other shit. The best thing? I personally don't think it comes across looking like a massive Mary Poppins bag. Oh. The scarf I'm wearing around my wrist? A gift from Aiya. The only piece of Liz Claiborne in my wardrobe. Since my bed was occupied by a sleeping hound I had to take advantage of the parentals' room for this photo.
See above: inability to wear heels. Also, my current favourite pair of socks :)
I found this scarf tucked away in a bag of stuff that I hadn't touched since coming back from London. Man, talk about sentimental value. It was one of my very first purchases from the Salvation Army way, way back in high school. I'm pretty sure that I was with alby when I hunted this down and paid 75 cents for it. Technically not a new item, but a found one! That cardigan? Hah, I picked that up at a dodgy store in Wellawatte right across the street from the Savoy. Best 250 Rs I ever spent in my life.
I was in desperate need of a new winter coat. One day when I was waiting to pick up the fascist from the bus station I popped into the local H&M and walked out with an inexpensive winter coat. Natch I needed to get a bag to match. Incidentally those leather gloves are actually goatskin ones that I bought at Odel about 4 years ago. They're perfect for winter driving because I can't deal with a frozen steering wheel and these take the chill right out.
1. Running out of clean clothes: scrounging around for clean socks and underwear at ungodly hours of the morning are not acceptable practice for someone who keeps everything so finely timed (i.e. does not roll out of bed until absolutely necessary)
2. Newly acquired clothing was going missing. Ditto for pairs of shoes. I could locate one while the other would be carelessly tossed into some corner not to be found until unneeded.
3. I was starting to get grossed out.
It should come as no surprise that having a steady paycheque has also meant a steady influx of new material possessions.
I rocked a sari for the very first time at V-mantie's wedding in October. I think alby may have very well nearly shit herself. Ammi naturally had to treat herself to some new threads as well because sari shopping with me was no easy feat. That scarf is the blouse piece from one that she picked up. The cardi's new and that t-shirt is an oldie but a goodie. Aiya bought it for me a couple of summers back and it's one of my prized possessions.
Yes. Yes. Poor Oliver. Enough. If he wants to lounge uninvited on my bed he must pay. So yet another fedora to add the collection of wool ones that I never wear. In my defence it was going on sale for 10 bucks at Urban Outfitters. How can you say no to a deal like that??
When does a super cute clutch ever need an explanation? That shirt on the other hand, it's a story in and of itself. It's actually an ancient Club Monaco shirt of Aiya's that I now wear as a wrap dress. Honestly, it's a men's XXL. There's not much else that I could do with it but I love the colour palette.
If I knew how to paint I'd imagine myself wearing a smock similar to do this while pretending to be inspired. One thing that's died very hard in my foray into bonafide corporate whoring is giving up the kitschy wardrobe. I try to mix it up as much as I can with faux-vintage pieces like this but sadly they only come out to play on casual Fridays. In my past life this would've been considered "meeting attire."
That inability to wear heels? Yeah. I still haven't found a cure for that debilitating disease yet. It's tough seeing Labro every single day at work and have her tower over me. Sadly the option of falling on my ass every time there's a lump in the rug really is not viable either. What? Flats can be hot too!
Ugh. What is up with the snow? You know all these weather peeps were saying that this year we wouldn't get pelted with as much snow as last but I think those mofos be lying yo. The last couple of days have really not been fun and from what I understand this week's not going to be overly pretty either. Thankfully I got my new boots just in time and believe me, sourcing these out was NOT an easy task. When it comes to winter boots I am uber picky. I haven't bought a new pair in over four years because I was totally in love with my old ones. (I got them from Gap kids!)
Mad Men is one of my favourite TV shows. It's interesting because out of all the shit you find running during the summer this is actually a show that Ammi and I can agree on watching. She sits back in abject horror and relives what it was like to be a woman breaking into the early days of the ad industry and lust after Ms. Holloway. Anyone who can get away with saying "décolletage" without coming across like an utter tool is A-OK in my books. If I had the above blouse and shoes around Halloween I totally would've dressed up as Joan. Alas both were rather recent acquisitions.
Vests like clutches? Never enough I say! Especially when they have been bought at 85% off the original price. Even I like to bargain shop folks. Don't be fooled.
Who knew that my new favourite pair of jeans would come from Old Navy! I sure as hell never did. Those shoes, I *heart* them but they're damn uncomfortable. I need to invest in some good insoles ASAP. Also, what is up with those weird veins popping out of my feet? WTF. I really hope it's the weird angle that I was holding the camera in because that's just creepy. From my vantage point I've never seen those before!
Handbag purchases fall into a category all on their own. Unlike a clutch I will not impulsively buy a handbag. The issue is that I hate carrying around a camera bag with all my gear shoved into it, I'd much rather have a roomy handbag. I feel a bit less paparazzo you know? This bag is parfait. It's got loads of space for my camera body, 3 lenses, external flash and even tripod attachment pieces with room left over for other shit. The best thing? I personally don't think it comes across looking like a massive Mary Poppins bag. Oh. The scarf I'm wearing around my wrist? A gift from Aiya. The only piece of Liz Claiborne in my wardrobe. Since my bed was occupied by a sleeping hound I had to take advantage of the parentals' room for this photo.
See above: inability to wear heels. Also, my current favourite pair of socks :)
I found this scarf tucked away in a bag of stuff that I hadn't touched since coming back from London. Man, talk about sentimental value. It was one of my very first purchases from the Salvation Army way, way back in high school. I'm pretty sure that I was with alby when I hunted this down and paid 75 cents for it. Technically not a new item, but a found one! That cardigan? Hah, I picked that up at a dodgy store in Wellawatte right across the street from the Savoy. Best 250 Rs I ever spent in my life.
I was in desperate need of a new winter coat. One day when I was waiting to pick up the fascist from the bus station I popped into the local H&M and walked out with an inexpensive winter coat. Natch I needed to get a bag to match. Incidentally those leather gloves are actually goatskin ones that I bought at Odel about 4 years ago. They're perfect for winter driving because I can't deal with a frozen steering wheel and these take the chill right out.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Captain Cold Feet
I've had to put my sandals permanently away because sock weather is upon us kids and I can't deal. My head space has been a bit weirder than it normally is and despite having more things than usual to blog about I can barely muster two coherent sentences let alone a fluid post.
Spent the better part of the afternoon staring blankly at my computer screen trying to write a wee 300 word essay on why I'd be a suitable candidate to join the Canadian Foreign Service. Right now I'm slightly more interested in exploring why Cutty Ranks just never seems to gets old.
Dear David Emerson, (Minister of Foreign Affairs and International Trade)
Although I will never, ever vote for your party (in the current election and all subsequent ones to follow) I listen to good dancehall music. This should alleviate any concerns you should have about my levels of competency and ability to be a super secret spy.
Much love to the wife and kids!
Aiya and I beat a hasty retreat during a super horrifically awkward family dinner on Monday night and managed to catch another "Road Talk."
Mace from rasti on Vimeo.
Clearly the dancehall thing has been recurring all week. Also just to be clear, he doesn't wear fugly crocs. Aiya prefers these. Something about the breathable cork yadda comfortable yadda.
Spent the better part of the afternoon staring blankly at my computer screen trying to write a wee 300 word essay on why I'd be a suitable candidate to join the Canadian Foreign Service. Right now I'm slightly more interested in exploring why Cutty Ranks just never seems to gets old.
Dear David Emerson, (Minister of Foreign Affairs and International Trade)
Although I will never, ever vote for your party (in the current election and all subsequent ones to follow) I listen to good dancehall music. This should alleviate any concerns you should have about my levels of competency and ability to be a super secret spy.
Much love to the wife and kids!
Aiya and I beat a hasty retreat during a super horrifically awkward family dinner on Monday night and managed to catch another "Road Talk."
Mace from rasti on Vimeo.
Clearly the dancehall thing has been recurring all week. Also just to be clear, he doesn't wear fugly crocs. Aiya prefers these. Something about the breathable cork yadda comfortable yadda.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Road Talks
Aiya and I are lame. We like Ben Stiller movies and fart jokes. Our parents get annoyed because we giggle like maniacs and it grates on their nerves. Despite sporting a fairly significant age gap we get along really, really well. Of course this wasn't the case when he was in his teens. Things only started improving after he left high school.
So he's moved out of the house and I don't get to see him as often as I did before. It does suck but due to a few personal issues that have cropped up in his life he's around a lot more. Even though the circumstances aren't the best it's really nice to have him around. Our time together usually revolves around getting good Chinese food and watching really juvenile movies. The night we were going to see Tropic Thunder (amazing movie by the way, I'm so glad we saw it with a theatre full of 14 year old boys), he suggested that I turn on the video camera on my phone and let it roll.
My apologies in advance because the clips are all turned over on their sides. I'm a technopeasant :(
**disclaimer: Aiya's a total racialist and I feel the need to point out that the hate mail should be directed towards him.
Untitled from rasti on Vimeo.
Yeah I'm a tool. "Road Trips?" Those are things you TAKE not record on your phone.
Untitled from rasti on Vimeo.
A few things Aiya's waxing on about finding a mate, "mara" is what we call Thathi, the official "euthaniser of relationships" title belongs to someone else but I like to mix it up and I don't really know why Aiya's talking in a Sri Lankan accent either.
Untitled from rasti on Vimeo.
He did end up parking in the handicap spot, limping out and leaving me with those two creepy hindustani dudes as company
So he's moved out of the house and I don't get to see him as often as I did before. It does suck but due to a few personal issues that have cropped up in his life he's around a lot more. Even though the circumstances aren't the best it's really nice to have him around. Our time together usually revolves around getting good Chinese food and watching really juvenile movies. The night we were going to see Tropic Thunder (amazing movie by the way, I'm so glad we saw it with a theatre full of 14 year old boys), he suggested that I turn on the video camera on my phone and let it roll.
My apologies in advance because the clips are all turned over on their sides. I'm a technopeasant :(
**disclaimer: Aiya's a total racialist and I feel the need to point out that the hate mail should be directed towards him.
Untitled from rasti on Vimeo.
Untitled from rasti on Vimeo.
Untitled from rasti on Vimeo.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Domestication
Having Abi around as my only close Sri Lankan girlfriend means that we can have a heartier laugh over some of the more ridiculous elements of our culture than I could with, say, Alby. Since we're considered to be of "marriageable" age these days we find older, more meddlesome friends of our parents seeing the need to make comments on our varying levels of "domestication." As Abi puts it, they make it sound like we're feral beasts who've only just barely managed to be paper trained or something.
Cleaning is really not my forte, not that I'll never do it, I just don't derive the same pleasure from it as Alby does. If I'm mucking around in the kitchen I'll clean up after myself, but my room? An absolute nightmare, something akin to my locker in high school. However clutter in my living spaces drive me bonkers. I'm sort of like Monica but instead of a closet I've got a bedroom. I've been meaning to purge it out for sometime now and since we had a new cleaning service coming in this afternoon I figured that now would be as good a time as any. One thing I never take into consideration is my ability to get easily distracted. I start finding things, old clothes to try on, books which get skimmed through, sweetly scribbled handwritten notes on pieces of random paper...you know, the things that'll totally make me sit down and take a closer look.
It all started innocently enough. I swear.
I was told to run down to the basement and make sure none of Oliver's toys were on the floor before the cleaning ladies came. That's when I caught sight of one of Lokku Mammah's blue Barefoot shirts in a garbage bag. Aiya had claimed that shirt a few years ago and I was surprised to see it in the give-away pile that he had put together just before he moved. So I ran upstairs and tried to figure out a way that I could wear said shirt without looking like a tool. That was really the beginning of the end. I coupled it with my favourite pin-stripped vest and one of my grandfather's ties.
I love that shade of blue.
While rummaging through my scarf/tie rack looking for Papa's tie I came across this little tie. It belongs to one of my most favourite shirts of all time, which surprise, surprise I'm now way too fat to even poke a finger into. I practically lived in that shirt when I was working in Colombo. The stripes and the white take me right back to all of that. Note the absolute squalor in the background. (And apparently, I was told, my hair looks FAKE in the above? I know right? How dare he etc.)
Guys, remember when I was totally obsessed with the Beastie Boys? Oh. Wait. That's right I still am. I bought this hat right around the time "To The Five Boroughs" came out. It was my homage to them. This was the hat I was wearing when I failed my driver's test for the 3rd time, it was around Thanksgiving too. On a side note, if it was possible to hug Paul's Boutique I think I would. Also, Adam Horowitz? I'm totally single and available (age means nothing). Call me!
One of my favourite people in the world totally misjudged me and gave me a black and beige organza sari from Singapore. I love her to bits but not enough to even attempt rocking it. The sari went to Ammi but I held on to the blouse piece which has alternatively been on my bed and also used as a scarf. It is surprisingly warm and makes me giggle at the stupendous lapse of judgement.
This penchant for scarves of all sizes is like a filthy drug. I'm going to end up a toothless junkie because of it. Last summer in Colombo the bossman and I made a quick dash to Cotton Collection to pick out a shirt for some fuddy duddy meeting he was attending the following day. This little scarf was by the cash register for 100 Rs so he grabbed it for me. On our way out to the parking lot we were promptly shoved into a random saivar kade because the road was closed off for some minister. So we sat there and drank cups of ginger tea, shot the breeze and managed to leave without cholera. If I recall correctly this was the lovely workmate's favourite colour and he ended up designing the cover page of a report to match it. Perhaps that'll be my only real legacy in Sri Lanka.
The TinyLittleFascist used to always make fun of me because I had a tendency to wear something akin to a hijab when scampering around Colombo in tuktuks. The thing is my hair was a dirt magnet and it just made more sense to keep it covered up to avoid all the nastiness that would otherwise get trapped in it. I was immensely amused when I came home last summer and found that someone who had recently visited the Middle East decided it would be a great idea to give my Christian Fundamentalist mother an Islamic head dress. Fun times indeed people! I clearly wear it as a neck scarf and not a head one.
Really? Does the significance of this beret really need to be explained? If I need to spell it out then you don't deserve to know. However I will give you this, I've had it since I was in high school.
The very first vintage sweater I ever bought at Courage My Love. I think I shelled out 10 dollars for this beauty when I was in grade 9. Surprisingly enough it still fits but only because it's snug in all the right places. Trust me though, it could've gone either way. There's potential there for it to have looked horrific.
Most of the things that meant the most to my grandfather when he died went to my uncles and Thathi, which is totally fair. Aiya of course got the best stuff out of all the grandkids. I grabbed on to precious little that I could get hold of, mostly ties and scarves that the others weren't interested in. The above is actually a cummerbund which his bestfriend Carlyle brought back to him after a trip to London sometime in the early 1950s. It's starting to get a bit chillier out these days and I'm head over heels for the pattern on the cummerbund I figured that I'd start wearing it as an ascot in the fall instead of just using it as a cinch. Apparently it works? Both are cheating I know. Shh.
Again, I totally found this while rummaging. This is one of my favourite ties, I picked it up for 25 cents at the open Saturday market along la Rue Mariste in Dakar. Clothes and other items which people from the developed world hoping would go to needy people in Africa oftentimes ended up at the market for sale instead. I bought this tie along with 3 others, they were the first items I ever price-bargained for in Senegal. The rush of being able to haggle successfully in French? If there's any French speakers out there, you know what I'm talking about.
So it's now just after 2:40 AM my room still looks like the closet threw up and I'm left with the choice of just shoving my clothes off of the bed and onto the the other pile of clothes on the floor, sleeping on top of them, or just heading to the guest room to sleep tonight.
Choices.
Cleaning is really not my forte, not that I'll never do it, I just don't derive the same pleasure from it as Alby does. If I'm mucking around in the kitchen I'll clean up after myself, but my room? An absolute nightmare, something akin to my locker in high school. However clutter in my living spaces drive me bonkers. I'm sort of like Monica but instead of a closet I've got a bedroom. I've been meaning to purge it out for sometime now and since we had a new cleaning service coming in this afternoon I figured that now would be as good a time as any. One thing I never take into consideration is my ability to get easily distracted. I start finding things, old clothes to try on, books which get skimmed through, sweetly scribbled handwritten notes on pieces of random paper...you know, the things that'll totally make me sit down and take a closer look.
It all started innocently enough. I swear.
I was told to run down to the basement and make sure none of Oliver's toys were on the floor before the cleaning ladies came. That's when I caught sight of one of Lokku Mammah's blue Barefoot shirts in a garbage bag. Aiya had claimed that shirt a few years ago and I was surprised to see it in the give-away pile that he had put together just before he moved. So I ran upstairs and tried to figure out a way that I could wear said shirt without looking like a tool. That was really the beginning of the end. I coupled it with my favourite pin-stripped vest and one of my grandfather's ties.
I love that shade of blue.
While rummaging through my scarf/tie rack looking for Papa's tie I came across this little tie. It belongs to one of my most favourite shirts of all time, which surprise, surprise I'm now way too fat to even poke a finger into. I practically lived in that shirt when I was working in Colombo. The stripes and the white take me right back to all of that. Note the absolute squalor in the background. (And apparently, I was told, my hair looks FAKE in the above? I know right? How dare he etc.)
Guys, remember when I was totally obsessed with the Beastie Boys? Oh. Wait. That's right I still am. I bought this hat right around the time "To The Five Boroughs" came out. It was my homage to them. This was the hat I was wearing when I failed my driver's test for the 3rd time, it was around Thanksgiving too. On a side note, if it was possible to hug Paul's Boutique I think I would. Also, Adam Horowitz? I'm totally single and available (age means nothing). Call me!
One of my favourite people in the world totally misjudged me and gave me a black and beige organza sari from Singapore. I love her to bits but not enough to even attempt rocking it. The sari went to Ammi but I held on to the blouse piece which has alternatively been on my bed and also used as a scarf. It is surprisingly warm and makes me giggle at the stupendous lapse of judgement.
This penchant for scarves of all sizes is like a filthy drug. I'm going to end up a toothless junkie because of it. Last summer in Colombo the bossman and I made a quick dash to Cotton Collection to pick out a shirt for some fuddy duddy meeting he was attending the following day. This little scarf was by the cash register for 100 Rs so he grabbed it for me. On our way out to the parking lot we were promptly shoved into a random saivar kade because the road was closed off for some minister. So we sat there and drank cups of ginger tea, shot the breeze and managed to leave without cholera. If I recall correctly this was the lovely workmate's favourite colour and he ended up designing the cover page of a report to match it. Perhaps that'll be my only real legacy in Sri Lanka.
The TinyLittleFascist used to always make fun of me because I had a tendency to wear something akin to a hijab when scampering around Colombo in tuktuks. The thing is my hair was a dirt magnet and it just made more sense to keep it covered up to avoid all the nastiness that would otherwise get trapped in it. I was immensely amused when I came home last summer and found that someone who had recently visited the Middle East decided it would be a great idea to give my Christian Fundamentalist mother an Islamic head dress. Fun times indeed people! I clearly wear it as a neck scarf and not a head one.
Really? Does the significance of this beret really need to be explained? If I need to spell it out then you don't deserve to know. However I will give you this, I've had it since I was in high school.
The very first vintage sweater I ever bought at Courage My Love. I think I shelled out 10 dollars for this beauty when I was in grade 9. Surprisingly enough it still fits but only because it's snug in all the right places. Trust me though, it could've gone either way. There's potential there for it to have looked horrific.
Most of the things that meant the most to my grandfather when he died went to my uncles and Thathi, which is totally fair. Aiya of course got the best stuff out of all the grandkids. I grabbed on to precious little that I could get hold of, mostly ties and scarves that the others weren't interested in. The above is actually a cummerbund which his bestfriend Carlyle brought back to him after a trip to London sometime in the early 1950s. It's starting to get a bit chillier out these days and I'm head over heels for the pattern on the cummerbund I figured that I'd start wearing it as an ascot in the fall instead of just using it as a cinch. Apparently it works? Both are cheating I know. Shh.
Again, I totally found this while rummaging. This is one of my favourite ties, I picked it up for 25 cents at the open Saturday market along la Rue Mariste in Dakar. Clothes and other items which people from the developed world hoping would go to needy people in Africa oftentimes ended up at the market for sale instead. I bought this tie along with 3 others, they were the first items I ever price-bargained for in Senegal. The rush of being able to haggle successfully in French? If there's any French speakers out there, you know what I'm talking about.
So it's now just after 2:40 AM my room still looks like the closet threw up and I'm left with the choice of just shoving my clothes off of the bed and onto the the other pile of clothes on the floor, sleeping on top of them, or just heading to the guest room to sleep tonight.
Choices.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Go team Canada.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Denver.
Dinosaurs? For the next 6 months? Bring it.
I'll try but given my past track record with doing any kind of regulated blogging, holding your breath probably wouldn't be the best option. Does anyone remember the "12 Days of Christmas" that stopped with the 5th day? *cough*
I think we're all having debilitating writers block because of that lovely little web 2.0 app that we've been wasting our time on (s_angry). Here's the thing though, there are still things to blog about, things to talk about, pictures to post up. You've been complaining and trying to figure out how it's possible for a person to leave to Sri Lanka for a funeral go to London for (what was supposed to be) two years, come back, deal with the most scandalous family issues ever, become somewhat self-employed, back to unemployed and then land a dream job in the span of three months.
I suppose this is the reason why you sit here refreshing the page every hour to see if I've posted something new. *PATS* It's okay, your reward will come soon my pretties. Just not right now because all this babbling? It's supposed to be about DINOSAURS. Kudos to kerms for actually getting the ball rolling, I take my hat off (and only my hat, ahem,) to you sir.
So does anyone remember the above TV show? Denver the Last Dinosaur? Aiya and I used to watch it way back in the day. I checked out the wiki on it and couldn't help but chuckle. "The show revolved around the adventures of Denver, a dinosaur who was released from his dino egg by a group of multiracial modern California teens."
Come on, who wouldn't want to watch a show like that on Saturday morning?!
Next post: The Land Before Time among other things.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Quips: The Super Bowl Edition
Has it really been this long
since the last edition of quips? Awful.
Live blogging from the Super Bowl! It could be because I will be passing out directly after the game is over. And right now it's going so slowly I figured I could squeeze in a wee bit o' blogging.
We are a family of eaters. It's well documented. Super Bowl is usually tex-mex, as an homage to our neighbours to the South, also fitting since this year's game was in Arizona.
Aiya was in charge of doing the chicken wings and salsa, he was supposed to bring around some guac but apparently the hotel "ran out" of avocados. Pfft. The chicken wings of course were fab, and he concocted the perfect hot sauce for it.
Me: This hot sauce isn't so bad, why'd you make it so mild?
Aiya: You know Ammi can't handle the spice.
Me: OMG *coughing*
Aiya: *laughing manically*
Me: Dude. What the hell, this shit is hot.
Aiya: I know, i made it so it would have a delayed reaction.
Me: *sputtering* It really gets you unaware
Aiya: Yes. I call it the pervert, the feeling of the burn is the same as when you've been felt up by someone unwanted.
Me: So like when you're on a crowded bus in Sri Lanka?
Aiya: Exactly.
I had planned on setting up a photo opp with Oliver and Cedric an mentioned this to Aiya. Laziness of course prevented me from going through with it.
Me: Dude, I think Cedric's red hat will make him a perfect Giant's fan. I smell photo-op
Aiya: I want a smallish doll/action figure to take photos of in various situations.
Me: I can get you a gnome too, but you don't really travel.
Aiya: No guy. I'm going to get a Blythe Doll. And then dress it up as a chef.
Me: You are teh ghey.
Discussing who we were rooting for.
Aiya: So who's your support behind?
Me: Pats all the way. You?
Aiya: You know, I'm sort of feeling the Giants.
Me: WTF? Why? You hate New Yorkers!
Aiya: I know, but it would be sort of nice for both those brothers to have rings.
Me: Dude. So ghey. What's their dad's name again?
Aiya: Preston Manning.
Me: SHUT THE MOM UP! Like Preston Manning? As in PRESTON MANNING?
Aiya: You're an idiot, no his name's Walter Manning.
Me: Dude, that's so uncanny though.
Aiya: You know he's their dad's cousin though right? The Manning with the brains.
Me: Shut up.
Oliver was wondering in and out of the room through the course of the evening. At one point he was sitting half on my lap and half on thathi's.
The room collectively: EWW what the hell is that smell.
Me: that was Oliver, he just let one rip. I felt it.
Thathi: Chik Oliver!
Oliver: Tries to snuggle up to thathi
Me: *Looks down at where Oliver was sitting* OMG, OLIVER. YOU FAG.
Aiya: What did he do?
Me: HE LEFT A SKID MARK ON MY PANT LEG.
The Room: *Collective Laughter*
A little while later
Ammi: What's that stench?
Me: That would be me.
Aiya: It's all that pervert she ate.
Ammi: *Looking for another place to sit* Thathi! Move your legs (she doesn't actually call him thathi, but come on.)
Aiya: Ammi, are you sure you want to do that? He had a lot of pervert too.
Ammi: I'm going to sit here on the couch, move your legs, and don't fart. Or if you're going to, tell me so I can brace myself.
Me: You're kidding right? You actually expect him to do be able to do that?
Aiya: Ammi, come on, that's like asking the guy not to breath. What's wrong with you?
And that's a wrap kids.
Oh and yes. The game is starting to heat up. I will not be formating the above. New York seems to have the game. :29 seconds left!
Edit 1: 1 second to go
People have now rushed the field, someone has been prematurely dumped with gatorade and New York already has their victory hats on.
Aiya: TAKE THOSE HATS OFF, THEY'RE NOT YOURS.
Aiya: Imagine if New England does something to win? They'd have to vacuum that guy dry.
Edit 2: The Giants have won.
Plexico takes the field to do his victory interview.
Aiya: Here comes the eloquence we've been waiting for all evening. WTF kind of name is Plexico anyways? It sounds like glass or something.
since the last edition of quips? Awful.
Live blogging from the Super Bowl! It could be because I will be passing out directly after the game is over. And right now it's going so slowly I figured I could squeeze in a wee bit o' blogging.
We are a family of eaters. It's well documented. Super Bowl is usually tex-mex, as an homage to our neighbours to the South, also fitting since this year's game was in Arizona.
Aiya was in charge of doing the chicken wings and salsa, he was supposed to bring around some guac but apparently the hotel "ran out" of avocados. Pfft. The chicken wings of course were fab, and he concocted the perfect hot sauce for it.
Me: This hot sauce isn't so bad, why'd you make it so mild?
Aiya: You know Ammi can't handle the spice.
Me: OMG *coughing*
Aiya: *laughing manically*
Me: Dude. What the hell, this shit is hot.
Aiya: I know, i made it so it would have a delayed reaction.
Me: *sputtering* It really gets you unaware
Aiya: Yes. I call it the pervert, the feeling of the burn is the same as when you've been felt up by someone unwanted.
Me: So like when you're on a crowded bus in Sri Lanka?
Aiya: Exactly.
I had planned on setting up a photo opp with Oliver and Cedric an mentioned this to Aiya. Laziness of course prevented me from going through with it.
Me: Dude, I think Cedric's red hat will make him a perfect Giant's fan. I smell photo-op
Aiya: I want a smallish doll/action figure to take photos of in various situations.
Me: I can get you a gnome too, but you don't really travel.
Aiya: No guy. I'm going to get a Blythe Doll. And then dress it up as a chef.
Me: You are teh ghey.
Discussing who we were rooting for.
Aiya: So who's your support behind?
Me: Pats all the way. You?
Aiya: You know, I'm sort of feeling the Giants.
Me: WTF? Why? You hate New Yorkers!
Aiya: I know, but it would be sort of nice for both those brothers to have rings.
Me: Dude. So ghey. What's their dad's name again?
Aiya: Preston Manning.
Me: SHUT THE MOM UP! Like Preston Manning? As in PRESTON MANNING?
Aiya: You're an idiot, no his name's Walter Manning.
Me: Dude, that's so uncanny though.
Aiya: You know he's their dad's cousin though right? The Manning with the brains.
Me: Shut up.
Oliver was wondering in and out of the room through the course of the evening. At one point he was sitting half on my lap and half on thathi's.
The room collectively: EWW what the hell is that smell.
Me: that was Oliver, he just let one rip. I felt it.
Thathi: Chik Oliver!
Oliver: Tries to snuggle up to thathi
Me: *Looks down at where Oliver was sitting* OMG, OLIVER. YOU FAG.
Aiya: What did he do?
Me: HE LEFT A SKID MARK ON MY PANT LEG.
The Room: *Collective Laughter*
A little while later
Ammi: What's that stench?
Me: That would be me.
Aiya: It's all that pervert she ate.
Ammi: *Looking for another place to sit* Thathi! Move your legs (she doesn't actually call him thathi, but come on.)
Aiya: Ammi, are you sure you want to do that? He had a lot of pervert too.
Ammi: I'm going to sit here on the couch, move your legs, and don't fart. Or if you're going to, tell me so I can brace myself.
Me: You're kidding right? You actually expect him to do be able to do that?
Aiya: Ammi, come on, that's like asking the guy not to breath. What's wrong with you?
And that's a wrap kids.
Oh and yes. The game is starting to heat up. I will not be formating the above. New York seems to have the game. :29 seconds left!
Edit 1: 1 second to go
People have now rushed the field, someone has been prematurely dumped with gatorade and New York already has their victory hats on.
Aiya: TAKE THOSE HATS OFF, THEY'RE NOT YOURS.
Aiya: Imagine if New England does something to win? They'd have to vacuum that guy dry.
Edit 2: The Giants have won.
Plexico takes the field to do his victory interview.
Aiya: Here comes the eloquence we've been waiting for all evening. WTF kind of name is Plexico anyways? It sounds like glass or something.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Tid bits.
What a gorgeous day. Looks like winter has finally decided to shove off. I was making my way to Sid Smith for a Lit lecture in the afternoon and the ice cream truck was out! Pretty soon the dicky-dee guy will be tooling 'round 'bout the neighbourhood. (I think dicky-dee is just a Toronto thing innit?)
It's been warm enough that I've pulled my bike out of the garage and ridden it to school. And by "school" I mean the place I teach French. Before the snow came down and ruined my traction I used to wear a pair of pants under my skirt. Couldn't be arsed to pack more shit into my backpack than I needed to and because of the strict dresscode at the school, going in pants was out of the question. Fortunately it was so cold out that I avoided coming in looking like my boyfriend Jim that time he decided to take his bike into the office, ie sweating like a pig. The thing is last Friday was another great mild day albeit a bit muddy, so I thought I'd ditch the pants under the skirt because I didn't need the extra insulation.
I also forgot that Friday was garbage day. Fat girl in skirt + backpack + bike + garbagemen = more honking than I really deserved.
As of today I have exactly four more weeks to go until I head off to the motherland. There's a lot of hype surrounding this trip. Not only will this be the longest stretch of time I've ever spent in Sri Lanka but I've also got Dash coming with me for the four months! I'm beyond stoked about that. Also, there have been a lot of promises made and frankly, I don't know what to believe anymore.
Will I be getting packets of murukku? Or even peanuts for that matter?
Is it possible that Christo, Umi and the Auditor pull through for fantabulous weekend getaways?
Or will Dash and I be holed up at my grandparents' place watching Hindi DVDs on our laptops?
So many questions and clearly not enough answers.
Also, if you have noticed the influx of random photos on flickr, I make no apologies, the acquisition of a pro flickr account means that old skool pictures will be posted. And don't worry ladies, that elderly internet perv is a relatively harmless fellow.
And some quips. Because it's been awhile.
Aiya and I while watching the funeral scene in "The Departed" on dvd last night.
Me: Is that supposed to be a gun salute?
Aiya: Yeah, it's a 21 gun salute, because they fire 21 shots.
Me: No way Ms.Marple, you could've fooled me. Anywho, aren't there 21 guys standing there?
Aiya: Yeah that looks right.
Me: So are the 21 men going to shoot 21 times?
Aiya: No, I think it's just 21 bullets need to be wasted. You know, I don't think there's 21 guys there, it looks more like 10.
Me: Well, how is this going to work then?
Aiya: It's easy, maybe it's not 10, there's probably like 6 guys, so they'll shoot thrice.
Me: But that only equals like what? 18? It's not an 18 gun salute.
Aiya: Okay, then afterwards one guy fires off another 3 times.
Thathi: Or, 7 guys just fire thrice.
Aiya and Me: Ohh.
Aiya: Yeah, that could happen too.
Further proof that a calculator isn't a luxury item in our house.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Esto Perpetua.
"Blue, black and blue, dirty kangaroo..."
Aiya was never given to actually playing cricket, he was more prone to be seated under a shady tree eating a chinese roll from the school tuck shop. Regardless of his actual skill on the pitch the Roy-Tho was always a big deal for him. Thathi used to skip out of work to take him and his ankle biting friends. The festivities were sure to end with him having his flag stolen, cap flicked or other sundry article of school pride knicked.
I've never been to one of these "big matches," sadly the closest has probably been the annual Royal-Thomian that Thathi used to help organise back in the day, and the Metros, when the boys used to play basketball. When we all went to Sri Lanka for Punchy Mammah's wedding in 2000 I begged Rajiv to take me with him, but I was deemed too much of a "liability." I think his friends are clearly just pervy.
Usually large Sri Lankan gatherings make me suspicious, and other than the amusement to be had making fun of people, and watching them get sloshed I'm guessing that the novelty of the whole big match thing would wear off pretty quick.
In any case if I ever do find myself in the motherland during the fever you better believe that I will be begging
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