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

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.

Indecision 2008: Has nothing to do with US politics. (But Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert are more than welcome to create a television special)

Oliver senselessly attacking a mini punkin. It's that time of year when I too bust out the claws and teeth.

Oh Kittens, it's that time of year again isn't it? You know? When I start endlessly bitching and complaining about how much my life sucks? But with a different amount of vigour than I normally do? Then I start looking for ludicrous things to do in order to lift me out of my rut? Well last year it was teaching French (incidentally I do need another haircut), the year before that started slightly earlier and was dealt with through massive amounts of angst

I'd like to think that this year is a bit different, to the extent that the angst is coupled with a few new ludicrous and potentially unfeasible plans which will stretch the extent of 4-5 blog posts. Of which this will most likely be the only one. I'm bad with series. Remember? I'd also like to think that unlike the people of America the issues that surround my Indecision 2008 will be much more thought out and mulled over than what makes up their Indecision 2008.

The people of America are soon to be choosing a leader, and me? Well I'm at a crossroads kittens one that sees my feet planted on firmly on three different continents and has my big toe dipping into another. You see I am suddenly faced with a plethora of options and work possibilities. Come February 2008 I could either be in London, England; Capetown, South Africa; Toronto, or even potentially back in Colombo.

The courses are all finished up the first week of December and I'm a free agent. The work contract will be all neatly tied up leaving me with a small pile of cash that could fund a life and a trip some place other than here. Do I want to take advantage of the 2 year visa I'd have no sweat getting to London? Or does the excitement and novelty of Africa beckon again? Maybe I'll even stay in Toronto, shack up with Alby and the fascist, grow up and actually start behaving like an adult and not a nomad? Or there's the option of taking the safe easy way out and going back to Colombo? That still seems depressing though.

As it has been pointed out to me so sweetly in the past, I am childish, immature, indecisive and for good measure, I talk a lot. This is why I'm appealing to you dear 4 loyal readers, perhaps you can help me make my decision?

In other news, it's US Thanksgiving weekend and the ACWHAAFV is coming! Yay. I'm excited, we had a blast last year.

Tid bits.

Of course originally found on I Can Has Cheezburger?
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.

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!

Working for the man

It has been brought to my attention that I apparently post too many pictures of Oliver up here. To all the haters, you can suck it. This is him in one of Thathi's shirts, which happened to be in a pile of stuff headed to the dry cleaners

It's the New Year, blah, blah, fishcakes. I'm a student, and have been since I was four, talk to me in September, because that's really when the new year starts for me. What with the advent of a new academic year, and more importanty the new fall tv lineups, that's when I get all introspective and shiz.

Tuesday was my first day of teaching French to young impressionable Canadian minds. Wasn't too bad, although a child did vomit all over himself within the first fifteen minutes of my arrival. Perhaps he was just so overwhelmed at the prospect of learning French?

I feel like Michael Scott more often than not though, my stint as a teacher will end up making his attempts to be friends with everyone in the Office pale in comparison. Is it wrong that I want them to think that I'm the cool one? Probably haha. Thathi advised me to be strict with them, this coming from the man who used to get public beatings at school because he'd piss on other students' head a la that scene in The Power of One.

Since this is the first post of 2007, perhaps a few (none academic) things to look forward to?

1. Going to the motherland for four months. If I make it through all four months, it would have been the longest that I've ever spent there (since we migrated to Canada, when I was 4).

2. Getting my fat ass on a treadmill

3. Going to more live shows

4. Getting engaged. To George Clooney. (Or Colin Firth, I'm not too picky)

5. Finishing off this bloody graduated licensing bullshit and finally getting my good and proper piece of paper and plastic rectangle with requisite bad picture.

6. Working up the nerve to drop everything like it's hot, run away and never be seen in these parts again.

7. Hearing more schizophrenic things like the below on a crowded subway in the middle of morning rush hour, when I have a dull pounding headache. Having this original piece of music repeated for 40 minutes straight has given me a bitter hatred towards rye and coffee in general. Why you may ask? Because it was stuck in my head the entire day.

Some folks like their coffee black
Some folks like it white
I'll have mine with a shot of rye, if you're with me tonight

I probably should've been more annoyed, but the best part was when the singer congratulated himself and said the compostion definitely rivaled anything written by John Lennon

8. Going to the cottage with the ladies again. Three days was not enough!

And that's all I can think of for now.

I need a haircut.

Any ideas?

I get bored at this time of year. The stress of exams coupled with the awful weather makes me feel like I'm stuck in a rut.

Usually this feeling comes on around mid-November and doesn't wane until about the end of February. This is the time of year when I usually go and chop off all my hair. Right now it's just at my waist, my bangs look horrid, they've grown down to my chin and I'm most definitely loosing the battle against split ends. I'll probably head on over to Pacific Mall and let aiya's hair stylist work his magic, the man's a genius.

Throughout the years I've employed various methods of pulling myself up out of the funk.

There was my bout of entrepreneurialism that resulted in me making close to a $1000.00 one Christmas on crocheted scarves. (What can I say, the waitresses that worked for aiya at the now defunct Red Drink Boutique weren't the sharpest tools in the shed.)

It was around this time of year that I first started tutoring high school brats in French. Stressful, and probably not really worth the pittance I used to charge for 45 minutes of my time.

I got my humanitarian on as well, one year I volunteered at a small but very well known NGO and ended up wanting to kill myself.

It was hard to juggle writing close to 1500 Christmas cards and then coming home and trying to study for university exams and doing assignments. Still high off the smell of black Sharpies all I could manage to muster was "Seasons greetings from all of us at The NGO. Hope your New Year is ____ ." (At this point I was allowed to fill in the blank with either "wonderful," "spectacular," "awesome," or "amazing" depending on who the donor was.)

Didn't really do much to help me out of my rut. However the experience came in handy much later on, because I decided that I never wanted to start at the bottom of the pile in a Canadian NGO ever. Yeah, sue me, somehow I think I'm a little above photocopying, getting coffee and writing Christmas cards. (My experiences in Sri Lanka were a million times better)

Interspersed between all of the above were random bouts of hair cutting disasters. Generally I go the haircutting route every 2 years, because it needs to grow back to butcher again. The last "haircut" I got was actually a trim, at the Cutting Station in Colombo (the only decent haircut I've ever had in that country), that was in mid-June. Time for a haircut. Stat.

What's in store for me this year? Turns out I've got a teaching gig.

That's right. You read that correctly.

I'm teaching French at an elementary school. To small children. In January. You guys know that I had a hard enough time dealing with two dogs a classrooom full of kids is just going to epitomise "fun."

Let me recap.

Before I went to Senegal I got the brilliant idea to do some work with inner city ghetto kids. My reasoning was, hey, I'm going to teach psychologically damaged street kids how to read and write in French, might as well get a head start with messed up kids in Toronto. (Incidentally this arrangement also took place at around this time of year.)

I didn't last very long. Why are kids so damn annoying? The kiddies I had in Senegal were angels compared to anything I've ever had to deal with here.

So yeah, I'm really hoping that Chinese guy will come through with the haircut. Otherwise I think I'm going to be totally SOL.

Yes. I am that shallow.

teh hawtnes

French lock Loic Jacquet

Oh my little chickadees, things have been rather busy in these parts as of late. Evil papers on a myriad of different boring topics ranging from authoritarianism in Singapore to Satan's portrayal in Paradise Lost. Kill me now.

These be perilous times I say.

Welp, things are beginning to slightly look up. I'm awaiting the arrival of my brand spanking new SLR which methinks is stuck somewhere along the 49th in a customs bin. The Alcoholic Cousin Who Has An Affinity for Vodka is on a whirlwind 5 day US Turkey Day tour and is gracing me with her presence tonight at the Beac, which should lead to some fun times. Hopefully reminiscent of the summer antics which she regaled me with in the motherland.

w00t ACWHAAFV.

And of course how could we forget the sports? NBA, NHL and added to the mix a ridiculous amount of cricket (which has led to fisticuffs between Thaththi and I over the merits of America's Next Top Model vs The Ashes). Then there's the rugby, where every weekend I get to feast my eyes on things like the above.

Unfortunately they don't show all of the games live in these parts in English, so I had to rely on the TV5 (yes, yes the infamous TV5) feed to get us through the New Zealand vs France match. FIrst off this led to some hilarious results as I was expected to provide simultaneous translations into English. Much to my father's chagrin, Rugby terms were never part of the French curriculum that I've been studying since I was 8. As a result this led me to say things such as "the ball has been liberated," and "he's in trouble for pushing." As always I'm so quick to pick up on the nuances of the language.

What's that? Yeah, I know, I even amaze myself sometimes.

Something I noticed is that aside from the language (put that in for Cap'n Obvious) French commentators, are really nothing at all like their English counterparts, their styles are totally different. I'd hazard to guess that an English commentator would have immediately mentioned something about the "new" uniforms that France was wearing to commemorate 100 years of test rugby with New Zealand. But no. I was left gaping at teh hawtness which was parading itself before my eyes exclaiming to Thaththi that yes, those French bastards have amazing style.

Small, creased, pressed, white shorts?
Check.

Incredibly thought out accessories in the form of tricoloured belts and white socks?
Check.

Hipster-esque, tight vintage jerseys complete with quaint embroidery?
Check.

All in all I thought that the dandy look suited them really well. And then? Half way through the game, the bloody commentators decide to point out that, oh yeah? Those new outfits? They're a one off.

Fermez - la Bush!*

So, tomorrow's the US Presidential election, the real halloween if you ask me. Just wanted to get my presidential prediction out in the open before the 2nd. I think that Bush will take it by a very small margin, and i'm praying that i'm totally WRONG about that. Osama might have scored a victory for his buddy Bush but resurfacing in videotape format and scaring the crap out of Americans right before the elections. But then again, Kerry is pretty greasey, and the yanks don't really have that much to choose from. Unfortunately for them kerry is the lesser of two evils. I really wish i could like Dubya, but it's so not working.

To my American friends, GO AND VOTE!!!

And remember, if Bush gets elected and you need a place to stay after he imposes mandatory conscriptions for all his pointless wars, you can always dodge the draft at our place, we can squeeze at least 26 people in. I wouldn't want your blood spilled for oil or daddy.

*fingers crossed* Here's hoping (for the first time in my life) that i'm wrong!

*for the anglophones: fermez-la bouche = shut up; like the little pun? First saw it at an anti-war rally outside of the US embassy, our Frenchies seem to really like it!

Sri Lanka matha, apa Sri Lanka namu namu namu namu matha, Sundara siri barini*

Last night I was watching CBC's "Greatest Canadian" special. They're out to find the greatest Canadian according to the regular population. It's really fascinating (no really, it is), last night they went through the top 50 nominees and some of the people that were on the list, were names I remember because they're considered "important" but that's about it. I was drawing a blank as to what their contributions were. There were the obvious ones, like Alexander Graham Bell. Sandford Fleming was on the list too, I had no clue who he was, the place where I had all my psych exams last year were in a building that had the same name, that's as far as my knowledge went on him though. Anyways, turns out he's the man who standardised time! Go figure eh?
(*sigh* remember Heritage Minutes? They're online now! You can WATCH them and relive the "Burnt Toast" moment as if you were still in grade 3! And you can learn more about Sandford Fleming too. It's win, win)

Internally Displaced
(- Feel free to skip this, I promise, it will make your eyes bleed and you will have sudden urges to stab yourself with small pointed objects. Trust me. I did.)
{This morning in my French class we had a laboratoire, and we had to listen to a thing about Mordecai Richler "L'héritage d'un grand écrivain." Yeah, who has time to think coherently on a Monday morning let alone in French. Anyways since Richler was a Jew who grew up in Montreal, he had this sense of duality. I think that's a trait that all "immigrant" kids feel. I'm not just a Canadian. And I'm not just a Sri Lankan. Canadians don't view me as a "real" Canadian, and Sri Lankans don't think I'm really Sri Lankan. It's almost as if I'm in limbo, living in a parallel "bizarro" world.** The best way to put it is that I sometimes feel like I'm an internally displaced person. I'm not the only one, and it's always interesting to meet other immigrant kids who feel the same way. I think we're the better for having those two distinct cultures and mindsets living in one body. At times yes, it's like a complex form of schizophrenia. But then again you can't have everything.

Sometimes I wonder where to draw the line. Our family isn't hardcore paked out, and I don't think it's b/c we "assimilated." Even back in the motherland we weren't hard core. The other day on my way home on the subway I was chatting to an acquaintance of mine who I went to Jr. High with. She's Sri Lankan too, but jebus, our families could be from two different planets. She was so surprised that we were not steeped in the whole arranged marriage culture. I told her that none of the people in my parents social circle had arranged marriages. I didn't think it was that much of a big deal. That whole issue of dealing with parents who are totally far out there (like hers) was never ever a problem with our parents. Even after they became Christians they're still really liberal minded, more liberally minded than some of the non-religious parents i know. I'm glad that my parents never forced us to go to Sinhala classes, one of the pluses of being a minority in a hugely Tamil Sri Lankan population. (Then again though they brought Piyo [my childhood nanny] to Canada to teach us Sinhala. We ended up teaching her English. What. She was a fast learner!) Sometimes i feel like a traitor because I can't speak it. When I went to Senegal i felt so guilty b/c I could speak French better than my own "mother tongue" (lol and my French SUCKS, Gina can back this up). I try to embrace as much of my "culture" as I can, but sometimes it feels so overwhelming. I don't try to run away from it like Salman Rushdie's Saladin Chamcha from The Satanic Verses or Michael Ondaatje's Anil Tissera from Anil's Ghost. (Both are amazing books! Go and read them.) I'm trying to juggle and walk in that middle ground all at the same time, where I can still listen to the music I like and wear the clothes that I like without being termed "white washed." Yeah we always joke around about how I am, but if I was more like my compatriots and listened to Hip Hop, R and B, dancehall, and wore clothes from Stitches, would I still be washed? Pfffft. (*shudder* i'm going cold just imagining that)}

Esto Perpetua
I like to see Sri Lankan people succeed and get recognition for their work. So what would that be? Me feeling patriotic or rooting for the underdog (like Greece at the EuroCup?) Who cares. I saw this article on the BBC and it made me happy. Home Truths For Sri Lankan Film. On the subject of Sri Lankans in general. I love Michael Ondaatje. Not only is he a Sri Lankan, but he also did some growing up here in Toronto. (Read some of his early poetry, there's a lot about the city in it.) He doesn't come across as someone who champions his roots, especially in interviews and stuff. But it's obvious that he is aware of them. (He wrote an entire book about it ;)) I wonder what he "does" to keep himself in check with Sri Lanka. He's burgher, so maybe he likes to berate people in Sinhala like my parents do (apparently it's the only way to successfully malign someone). I know for a that he doesn't take huge pride in his Alma Mater. He's an almunist of St. Thomas' College (if I had gone there, I wouldn't blame him from not participating, that many Sri Lankans in one place is just dangerous). Like Thathi and Aiya. Funny thing is I don't ever remember him showing up to the children's Christmas parties! He would have made a MUCH better Santa Clause than my bribed and humiliated brother. (Who was in the height of his rugby days, so he didn't even have the fat to pull it off unlike now.) And let's not forget that right of passage, the "Big Match" aka getting a chance to watch all our decrepit fathers take to the field for a game of cricket against their arch-rivals Royal College. If he came to that, the social secretary would probably have combusted. Good ol' Uncle Chicko. There is always hope that he might grace them with an appearance at the "Thomian Dance." LOL talk about trying to relive your youth. A bunch of past-their-prime old Sri Lankans getting together to relive their high school prom. It's hurting. Trust me. I'm glad that I left you with such a sweet mental image.

*First three lines of the Sri Lankan national anthem
Translation:
Mother Lanka - We salute thee!
Plenteous in prosperity, Thou,
Beautous in grace and love.
(Entire lyrics and translation)

**Remember that episode of Seinfeld with Bizarro Jerry? :)