Tagged.

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.

I'm notorious for getting distracted. When I sit down to study I probably can't concentrate for more than 15 minutes at a time. I'm trying to study right now. In the last hour and a half I've gone through my photographs from Nuit Blanche, addressed those two yellow envelopes above and done some online banking.

Normally Oliver is under the desk and not on top of it, but he hates studying too. Usually if I'm trying to be diligent and not paying attention to him there will be a small Oliver sized pile of toys at my feet. All his vain attempts and getting me to play with him.

I tend to be a spreader. When I'm working my desk is usually covered in crap. The above is probably the desk on a fabulous day. That giant black binder has all my notes for that terrible ghost writing project I'm working on. My OCD still runs high, yes. That is a plastic ziplock bag with colour coded post-it notes of various sizes. Each post-it has a corresponding high lighter. Then we've got the Canadian Press guide on Caps and Spelling along with Canadian Press Style Guide. It's only been a few weeks since classes started, but both of those are starting to get pretty dog eared. My wallet and iphone are always within reach. The cellphone's a given and the wallet is for the credit card. What? I enjoy online shopping. Oh, my trusty laptop. I could devote an entire series of posts devoted to you. There's my glasses case on the side beside a my gold fish snack box. It's mandatory that there's something around to eat and drink.

Poor Cedric has been sequestered to the window. I was meaning to take him out for Nuit Blanche last night, but completely forgot about him until I was comfortably seated on the subway. He's nestled between two glass Coke and Pepsi bottles. They're filled with sand from my first trip to Sri Lanka. The Barbara Sansoni doll was a gift from my Uncle who passed away, he sent it to me through my grandmother on her first visit to Canada.

Think that's 15 minutes there. It's time to hit the books again?

Boo.

Srs Bzns

It's been busy. Nay hectic. July is nearly over and I've only got a rather hazy recollection of wtf has actually happened. Between final exams, papers and the usual gamut of summer school bullshit, Alby left to Korea for two years, a dear friend was visiting Toronto on business for a month, I was coerced into helping coordinate a wedding and doing logistics for a church conference. Unsurprisingly I am totally spent and all I want to do is sleep. I decided to knock out for a quick half an hour nap today after lunch. Which turned out to be slightly problematic because I accidentally set my alarm for 3:15 AM instead of PM. Subsequently I did not wake up early enough to shake off that assy feeling that you get when you've hit a good deep sleep. Boo.

Instead of studying or working on a pending writing project (that has been languishing for a few months) I opted to clean up my living quarters on Saturday. My standard of living can be described as being squalid at best, but I have an excuse! Did you see that whole thing earlier about me being terribly busy for all of July?

Anyways, we know what happens when I purpose to clean. Not much. Behold the fruit of my labour below.

I had one of those make or break career moments last Wednesday. Problem is I won't know if my career has been made or broken as of yet and won't find out until after the Labour Day weekend. Yeah. That's right. Early September. I lack the patience to wait that long for anything and I'm totally stressing out. The only way I've found to cope with all of this is to plan. My one year life plan for my career now has three options and all of them hinge on the answer I get in September. Since it was a director that I was meeting at the company HQ, alby and I hit the mall the previous week and found the below gem. It came with a sash of its own, but I coupled it with my grandfather's cummerbund which I'm sure I've photographed before.



Moving along. When Labro got married in May I was tasked with getting a pair of 'metallic high heeled sandals.' I was wearing the shortest dress of all the bridesmaids and couldn't get away with flats. Four inch heels and one blue bridesmaid's dress later...



While shopping for the shoes I of course browsed around and found these. I have not spent so much on a pair of shoes in a really long time. Even though they're Aldo, hot dang I don't have another pair of shoes that's made out of Italian leather as soft. Plus I think mustard is overtaking torquoise as my couleur du jour. Funny story, the cuffed jeans that the shoes are on top of? 20 bucks at American Eagle. Only hitch? The length is meant for regularly sized people and are therefore close to four inches too long for me (and they look like ass with those gold sandals).



One of my many glamorous jobs at the wedding was to herd around 30+ people around a park. Wearing a sari was not an option. I can't even sit properly in one of those let alone traipse through a poorly maintained park. (Boo to you Mayor Miller! Resolve the civic workers' strike already!) I thought I'd stay true to the Tamil roots and opted to use some silk pavadai chattai material (that I picked up from Ram Brothers down Sea Sreet) as a skirt paired with a random ancient beaded cami from Odel. It worked well enough although some of the old aunties had a few things to say. But really, when do they not?



Alby and I hit up a Jays' game earlier on in July and both walked out desperately wanting either a Blue Jays hat or tshirt. Thanks to the wonderful folks at footlocker and their buy one get one half off sale I picked up one for myself and for her as a going away gift. That hat is now safely ensconced at her apartment in Seoul. I'm going to miss you so much alby :(



I haven't worn a dress since I was in grade eight. All of that changed this year when Labro forced me into one. Then alby and I found this one for 15 bucks at bluenotes. That's when the epidemic started.



I bought this one just before I saw Transformers 2. It was probably the only good thing about that day because dang. That movie was crappy. If I hadn't seen it at the IMAX I think I may have left the theatre.



Labro and I went up to Barrie after work on Tuesday to say bye to alby. Her flight was way too early in the day for us to go to the airport (which is a real bummer because I love going there). Her parents are moving later on this summer and there was a pile of shiz stacked up for Goodwill and look at who was right on top?! That bag apparently was originally her dad's from way back in the day. So not only do I have her kid sister's hand-me-down skates which belonged to Alby and a couple of cousins before her, but I've also got Ron's bag. Pretty sweet! Oh, the cardigan is from a hole in the wall in Wellawatte. Rs 300 bitchz!



I've got a thing for scarves. Aiya found this one at the dollar store of all places and it's pretty hype. It's got Madge circa 1988 on it, her image is black and on a backdrop of different coloured squares: pink, orange, green, purple, yellow and blue. The pink top-like-thing I picked up last week while looking for someone else's birthday present. I know. I've really got to curb the shopping. As my people would say, "What to do no?"



And then it rained.



So I fished out the best umbrella I've ever had, one that I got from Arpico of all places. I'm sort of convinced that you can't really compete with umbrellas that have been designed to withstand the monsoons yo. That shit is serious.



After I tucked the camera away for the day I sat in a ratan chair and watched the rain come down.



Here's hoping for a chillaxed August.

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.

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.

Single parent family

Thathi's half a world away and he still manages to wreak unspeakable havoc on my life even from such vast distances. I got a 6:30 AM wakeup call from him yesterday. Ugh. I know he hates going on vacation alone but honestly in this instance I suppose he really didn't have much of a choice. This is the first Christmas that my grandmother's having in over 60 years that doesn't involve my grandfather. I can't even begin to fathom it actually. Like I've mentioned before, old people come better in pairs like socks and twix. Fortunately for me Ammi has not yet entered into the annoying stage of things just yet but I'm sure our time will come soon enough. We definitely don't have an overly traditional family setup going on for us at the homestead and one thing has become more evident. Ammi would've really sucked as a single parent.

In other news Oliver is entering day #5 of deperession. Yesterday he was leaning against the bathtub in the lightless bathroom for close to 30 minutes. No amount of coaxing could get him out. Labro came by last night to play some pool and this is the furthest he got down the stairs. The blighter is so dramatic. He just sat on the landing in this forlorn manner. Hopefully his spirits will be lifted this afternoon when we got out to shovel snow. Ugh. I can't believe that they're expecting two more snowstorms by Friday. TinyLF is going to get his plump self stuck in the snow on the way to Toronto this Friday. The goose.

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.

Shutter Speed

Jebus. I'm too lazy to blog properly (surprise). I present you the last lightening speed month and three quarters through the eyes of that snazzy new camera phone which I acquired along with a haircut at Pacific Mall.


This is what Toronto looked like when I left. I had a week and a bit of do nothingness before I took off unexpectedly to Colombo for the funeral. The original plan had been three weeks of do nothingness interspersed with leisurely getting my shit together for the Big Trip to London. I used to take Oliver for a walk every day during that spell and this is what a typical day would start off looking like. Apparently Toronto's still sort of like this? Perhaps my parents are just big exaggeraters?


Thathi and I were walking through the Katunayake Airport on our way to pick up our luggage remarking how it sort of feels nice to be back in Sri Lanka despite the utterly unfortunate circumstances. Seriously, look at that snow covered horror above. Now look at those luscious bouganvilla flowers in my grandparents' garden. It was nice to get away from one of the worst winters on record. When Ammi and Punchy made it into Colombo the heat had already started, I managed to miss that completely. However there was a few insane downpours, nothing compared to last year when that bit of the Galle Road collapsed. But still. I do recall a very unpleasant trishaw ride with Mansage from the Cinnamon Grand to Agra which involved rolled up pant legs, leaping over puddles and rubber slippers (which were worn in mutiny).


While I'm not a huge cat person this is my homeboy. Kitty, for that is his most unfortunate name, and I used to have a mutual understanding. He was less than a year old when I came to Sri Lanka last year. In exchange for play fighting in the mornings before leaving for work he would let me cuddle him for a brief spell in the evenings when I'd actually make it home at a decent hour. Although he used to make an utter fuss, I know he liked it. His throat used to vibrate, with a normal cat this would be purring, but his autism prevents him from showing affection, and that's as close as he'd get. No noise at all. The morning that my grandfather passed away he bolted and hung out on top of the water tower for nearly 5 days. He still refuses to go into my grandparents' bedroom. I don't know what he did after I left but the little beastie used to curl up in a ball and either sleep with me on my bed or on the floor beside me.


The final purchase that I made before I left Colombo was an umbrella from Arpico (pictured above). You know one of those silver coated jobbies. I figured that going to London without one would be just plain retarded. Gayan and I sped over as fast as we could to Dehiwela the night before I left. I needed to be at the Commons for a birthday fête and final goodbye. It was sad, and rushed. Tears were shed sly words exchanged and then it was time to go. The night before Mansage and I had a very fitting and hilarious goodbye that began at the Coffee Bean meandered to Clancys and then a mad rush back to the Bean. He even kept the blubbing to a minimum. It was so not enough time to see everyone I wanted to and there were so many people that I didn't even get a chance to see let alone call. I've always believed that any trip to Sri Lanka has to be at least 4 weeks long otherwise it's an utter disappointing and rushed experience.


I am hardly ever late for anything. Usually I am ridiculously early. This is a trait that Alby and I have both exhibited since time immemorial. So when I landed in London from Colombo and came back to Thorn's place at about 11:00 PM we weren't really worried about me being able to make my 6:30 AM flight that next morning. Oh how wrong we were. I was flying Easy Jet from Stantsted and in a series of events befitting Murphy I managed to get to the gate just as it was closing despite having started my journey at 3:00 AM. It was one of the most stressful things evar. Spain was great though, Barcelona's such a gorgeous city. I've got way more pictures which will eventually be posted on flickr. Seeing Gaudi's work in the flesh was phenomenal. I found myself at Sagrada Família on Easter Sunday and it was so overwhelming. The religious significance aside, as a piece of art it just left me dumbfounded.

Generally I don't like buying lame souvenirs and what inadvertently started off as an innocent scarf purchase in Dakar has now become my "thing." I buy scarves from every place I visit, managed to get the two above for 2 Euros. Which I thought was pretty awesome and of course now I'm regretting not getting more.


Getting lost in a city is the best way to discover it. This is what I say because I legendarily lack a sense of direction. On this particular day I was waiting for the ex-workmate to finish off some shiz and meet up with me for a day of shopping. So I wondered around Leicester Square and found a section that sold antique books. It was like I had died and gone to bookheaven. If the exchange rate wasn't 2 CND to a Pound I could've easily walked away with the entire store.


Went and met Aunty C at St Pancras a few weeks ago. She came and spent the day with me from Leeds and couldn't have picked a better weekend. The photo does not do justice to how kickass that clock really was. The two of us had a great time just wondering around the city. I managed to get us spectacularly lost at one point when I took the map.



A carved rock outside the British Library. They had a whole bunch of them around the entrance.


I still can't get over how "British" everything looks.


Seriously, how cute is that? Mind you it would've been way better if my unsteady hands didn't go all parkinsons on me. There actually are red phone booths in and around certain parts of the city.


Okay, so it does rain here on and off but it doesn't bother me! Is there something wrong? Am I unknowingly prepping for life in Vancouver?


Camden has become one of my favourite parts of London. I spend too much time and too much money there.


I go to church in Brixton. How bad ass am I? Witnessed my first building fire. Must say I really was not impressed with the way the firefighters and cops handled things. But that's another post altogether.


Gigs! With Thorn! It feels like home. But not really. Live music always makes me feel like I'm at home, no matter what part of the world I'm in. The London indie scene is really good obviously. Different than the Toronto one for sure. I think the calibre of musicianship is much better here but the creativity is lacking. But that's just me. Also? British indie boys? zomg. ftw!


Some of the little sculptures and pieces of art that are found in and around London are just strange. This is very close to one of the first places I worked here. I mean look at it! It's looks like a giant hot dog ffs. Click on the photo to make it larger and see if you don't believe me.


I wish I had more money. Or conversely, I wish I was making some money. Did a bit of shopping today. Picked up some sweet Clarks for Aiya and decided to get a pair of shoes for myself as well. The dude at Footlocker was absolutely incredulous when I told him that my feet were a size 6 US. This is normally the case since I think I defy some sort of science laws. There is no way that someone of my size should be able to be held up by feet that are so tiny they look like they've been bound.

Plenty more things that need to be seen and explored. Of course I'll take 'actual' pictures with the Nikon eventually, I'm really digging the little Sony though. I usually don't die for electronic items, but I'm a fan of the camera. It's so convenient.