The Decline of the Personal Statement

Everyone's going on about how technology is making our lives so much easier; everyday appliances almost eliminate the term 'chore', and communication has bridged the divide on a whole other level altogether.

Before the advent of the telephone (let alone it's cellular equivalent), snail-mail was the popular choice (for lack of any other alternative) for keeping in touch. Much before that were the effective usage of homing-pigeons, but let's just not get into that.

So anyway, post; the good old pony express. For an 8-year old I don't think anything else can quite match the thrill of recieving a hand written letter from a pen-pal, or an actual greeting card on your birthday. Sifting throught the letters in your not-so-virtual inbox was like waiting for an acceptance letter...everyday. And seeing your name on the envelope was the cream on the cake.

And then came the e-mail. At first it was exhilarating, sure. But eventually the excitment died down. Typing in your password and waiting for the entire contents of your inbox to pop up on the screen could never be as exciting. The mystery of the letter's substance was exposed with the 'help' of the subject box, or the sneak preview. Much like the friend who couldn't wait for you to watch the movie, so did you a 'favour' by revelaing the end.

Birthday and congratulatory cards sent via signals were just viewed and not felt. Sort of like the 'Look, but don't touch' sign at an art gallery.

Concern is now expressed through mail-forwards warning you of cancerous products, and emotions have been substituted with 'emoticons.' 

Texting has replaced the need for actual calling, and now Facebook has replaced the need for actual texting. 

It's true when they say that one day this planet will be taken over and run by robots. Those automatons they're talking about...that's us. 

Cheers.

A Tribute To Levi Strauss

Jeans/denim (as defined by urbandictionary.com):        - a girls best friend; simple, comfortable, cute, classic, completely wearable and flattering on anyone.                                                                                                                                          - the working man's leather.

The title is an obvious give-away. But for those who haven't quite figured it out yet, this post is dedicated to the one man who achieved the impossible; combining fashion with comfort.

I think I speak for everyone (and I mean everyone) when I say that denim is a revolutionary piece of clothing. I don't think I know of anyone in my generation who doesn't own a pair (at least), and i'm quite sure the majority of the older folks have found them equally versatile. Even babies are made to don them, without even having learnt to walk!

I suppose it's the fact that they're so flexible (I mean jeans, not babies). We've really got it made. Skinnies, Bell's, Staright cut, Boot cut, Capri's and Shorts. It's almost as though Coco Chanel and Monsieur Strauss had some sort of a thing going on. And I'm not just speaking on behalf of womankind here; the boys get their empty palette as well. Choosing their size and shade of blue is quite the power struggle. 

I personally own 3 pairs; skinny, everyday wear and a pet pair that I wear at will. Pretty much everything else I own is meant to go with either of the 3 choices.

Emergency outing? Just slip into a pair (no ironing necessary) and a matching crease-free top will just as easily follow.Night out with friends? Glam top, a pair of heels, and of course..the darker denims. I'm not dishing out fashion advice here, I'm just trying to highlight the ease with which we are able to take for granted, owning a pair of those miracle pants.

The way we wear our denims have evolved over the decades. The hippie loving bell-bottoms of the 70's to the high-waisted ones of the 90's. And now the 00's have heralded in the crisp, snug-fit.

It's pretty fascinating...try doing the same with any other pair of pants. I highly doubt it.

Cheers

For Real!

Now that my exams are done with, of late i've been submitting myself to the idiot box quite willingly; I don't have a consience to answer to anymore.      

                                                           

So I was channel-surfing this afternoon when i came across this utterly rubbish excuse for a valid TV program. It was this reality show (shocker) that tested a group of worthy individuals and determined finally who was to be crowned the best..pirate!! Seriously..seriously??

I can't say i'm anti-reality television..they're quite the entertainment source. And I unabashedly admit that i'm a devotee of the likes of American Idol and Hell's Kitchen.

But of late it seems that the television production business is a rat race of desperation. Reality shows are getting more and more absurd by the day.                                                                       

I'm terribly wary of the concept of Wife Swap (self-explanatory), and the likes of The Apprentice and The Bachelor seem like very publicly blown-up examples of everyday challenges; in this case a job interview and singles-night respectively.

But then again..it's a reflection of the viewers isn't it? If a gazillion people show interest in the aforementioned pirate picker, then that must mean there's some sort of demand. Either that, or there are worse shows out there, and this one's the lesser of the two evils.

It's intriguing to see what they'll come up with next though. Watch out for the season debut of Knicker Knitter everyone!! 

Cheers.

OMG!!

I've never been much of a 'LOL'er. For the plain reason that I can't get myself to believe that the person on the other side of the screen is actually ridiculously 'laughing out loud' everytime I make a funny. So it should'nt come as too much of a surprise that i'm also a critic of the ever-so-plausible LMAO and  ROTFL as well.

I much rather prefer (in tune to my apparent 'irritating' politically-correct ways) to appreciate witticisms via msn with a simple (but realistic) 'hehe' or 'haha', and if it's really funny, a 'HAHAHAHA'!

BRB and GTG are fine in my books because there are times when I really do have to go, and really will be back (hasta la vista?).

This i've been proclaiming far and wide (hyperbole), preaching to anyone who'll listen, the evils of the chatroom abbreviations...until I was proved wrong.

The other day I was in the library chatting (real life) with a couple of friends (in our defence, there really was no 'silence' sign hung up) when we happened to recall a funny video we had come across recently. So this one friend started describing it to the other. I say 'started' because she never really got around to do it. On recollection of a particularly hilarious bit, she literally collapsed into a fit of giggles, tipped over(!) to the floor, and (get this) rolled from side to side!!

Now that was an ROTFL if there ever was one! I tell you, my faith has been renewed...i've seen the error of my ways. If there actually are people out there who ROTFL, who am i to judge anymore?

Maybe I really can LMAO if i try hard enough.

Cheers

Mars vs. Venus

On the bus ride home from uni the other day, I overheard (overheard, not eavesdropped mind you) a snippet of what seemed to be quite the interesting conversation. The two people involved were having some sort of debate to decide what the official antonym for feminism would be, and came to the conclusion that it had to be chauvinism.

Now I don't know if that's actually registered as correct, but in my opinion, it just can't be. If antonyms are supoosed to be opposites of equal weightage, then in my books the two just don't add-up.
I'm sorry girls, but i'll have to side with the boys on this one.

It actually is rather unfair that a woman can get away with doing the exact same thing a chauvinist hopes to achieve, and even rise up on top. That's because feminism is recieved in a much higher light than chauvinism, oddly even with a touch of respect.
What i'm trying to say is, a man can never get away with saying 'Girls are stupid!' (for instance) without having the suffix 'pig' added to his chauvinist title. A self-proclaimed feminist (a.k.a ball beater) on the other can get away with 'Boys are stupid!' with not a scar to her name! See where i'm getting at?

It's all a bunch of cattle faeces if you ask me! Feminism and that whole 'equal rights' jazz. Why broadcast the fact that we're 'poor, innocent women, slaves to society', instead of just shutting up and proving afore-mentioned society wrong?
Understandable if you want to bring to light actual issues like wife-beaters and breast cancer, but the boys suffer from the same and you don't hear them whinging about it! In fact, in a survey taken on domestic violence 40 out of 100 cases were reportedly violence by women against men! And we're not oblivious to the fact that men are prone to breast cancer as well.

All i'm saying is stop trying so hard to up one another and realize the potential of your own sexes...and achieve it!

Happy Father's Day everyone.


Cheers.

Hi, I'm Gertie!

If there's one thing i'd really like to change about myself, it's my gullibillity (i realize that's not a real word but it has immense potential don't you think?).

Honestly...i'm as gullible as the next goldfish! You know how those bright-tinged suckers swim hurriedly to the top of the fish tank everyime you dangle you fingers there, thinking it's food they're getting? Yea..that's how bad i am.

Tell me a highly unlikely story and i'm likely to believe it. I won't be surprised if i look down to see if my sneakers are actually untied, even when i'm wearing flip-flops.
Go on..try me! Tell me that my fire-proof safe is ablaze or something. Tell me that you're going to live in the hills to find your inner calling...that eskimo's are in reality allergic to snow. Or that you're not planning anything for my birthday, when in truth you're throwing me a massive surprise bash! Ok..I might've had an ulterior motive in mind with that last one (hint).

I seriously think it's some sort of disease; a syndrome at least. Definitely an incurable one anyway. I never do learn.
After having fallen prey to a recent prank, I'll try and counter-strike (no, not the game) by refusing to believe in anything at all; blindly calling everyone's bluff, and rubbish'ing even world truths. That phase will probably just last a few minutes anyway..once a sucker, always a sucker eh?

Ah well..everyone has their weak spot I suppose. If only I was shrewd to replace being so darned good-looking! ;)


Cheers.
 

Option A?

We're spoilt for choice aren't we?

This little revelation happened to strike me the other day, when I headed to the local cafe' to quench my insatiable thirst for that cup o' java (see profile). I went up to the counter quite certain that all I wanted was a latte...then i happened to look up at the menu board.
Frappucchino, Mochacchino, decaf or expresso? A once you've scratched your head past that set of multiple-choice options, you're given your next. Skim-milk or whole milk? Then small, medium, large, or this-size-will-guarantee-you-never-sleep-ever!?

How far we've strayed since our neanderthal predecessors! 'I want food!' has evolved into 'Chinese or Mexican?' 'Dine-in or take-out?'
Forget food options and graphical illustrations of variable french-fry portions even. Take our clothes, cars, furniture and even letterpad font! I can change the colour of my i-pod (hypothetically speaking..i don't really own one) to whatever shade (not just clour, mind you) I prefer, and even add a 'hello kitty' motif (not quite the fan..but again, hypothetically speaking) to my moblie phone!

The scary bit is, our tendency to let ourselves be spoilt for choice is heading towards dangerous ground. Does the term 'Designer Babies' ring a bell?
Now that genetic engineering is common jargon for even the Layman, everyone wants their share of the deal. Turns out in a couple of years, parents-to-be will soon be able to actually create their own baby to fit their perfect picture! And by inserting/incorporating the right genes (tall gene/brown-eyed gene) here and there, scientists will be able to give them exactly what they paid for!

You know there's something amiss in humanity, when we stop celebrating the miracle of life and resort to choosing whom we love.


So here's where the biggest of all decisions comes into play..when all other options and choices take a back seat.

Click 'RIGHT' or click 'WRONG'?


Cheers

Unintentional Perv

Everyone knows that the biggest difference in the transition from childhood to adulthood is the loss of innocence.

The innocence i have in mind is the sort that enables a child to say whatever he/she wants without being questioned.
You know what i'm talking about. When's the last time you were able to say 'I like salted nuts!' without anyone in your audience bursting out into a not-so-muffled guffaw?
I honestly don't know when this happened..when we realize we aren't able to say just anything without it having a double-meaning. And mind you, the amount of sniggers isn't proportional to the intelligence of your company, anyone at all will do!

So for those of you who have fallen prey (once too often) to these accidental slip-ups, here's a list of phrases you might want to avoid:
                         'My, these balls are bouncy!'
                         'Those buns look good!'
                         'That's my sausage!'
                         'I'll have the breast piece please.'
and of course  'I like salted nuts.'

You might also want to refrain from making yummy noises while enjoying a particular dessert or favourite food.


Cheers.

Our Unsung Heroes

Dubai is a great city.
It's new, it's hip and it's got a cultural mush of more than 185 nationalities. The roads are clean and the buildings are tall. Life is good and everyone is happy.


But behind every clean street and architectural marvel are the little-known, little-acknowledged people responsible for it being there. They work long hours in 45degree temperatures to build structures they'll never be allowed to enter once they're finished. They clean the streets they'll never be able to afford to drive through, and they're housed in jail-like labour camps waiting for their meagre pay..always late.

To the not-so-fortunate in South/South-East Asia, the stories they hear about Dubai make it seem like the light at the end of that methaphoric tunnel; their saving grace. Work opportunities seem promising and there are plenty of benefits to be reaped. Enough money can be made to send home to the family and to tend to oneself as well.

So they bid farewell to their wives and kiss their children good-bye, leving behind the promise of a better future.
But as soon as their feet touch the sands of this promised land, reality hits. 12 of them are herded like cattle into accomadations meant to house 5 to a room, and are informed that work starts the next day. The hours are painstakingly long and the rising mercury makes them seem even longer. Some collapse and are rushed to the hospital, only to be proclaimed fine for work the next day.

They want to leave but they can't. They work their way up in debt and have nothing to show for their families back home. They watch the happy middle class and envy the snub of the wealthy. Frustration seeps in.

They can't go home for shame, and denial steps aside to give way to the fact that they will never be able to pay back the money they owe. So they climb to the topmost floor of the builiding they're shaping..and jump.
Others have a better solution. They say their prayers and cross the deadliest of highways..hoping that their blood money will be sent back home to the family members they left behind.


This is the real story behind Dubai. The beckoning city of many an opportunity; the so called 'Pearl of the MiddleEast'.
So remember these troopers when you complain of the heat from the comfort of your living room. Remember these heroes when you drive by renowned structures of the likes of The Burj Al Arab or The Palm. For they are our unsung heroes..and that's the most heroic kind.


Cheers.
http://www.time.com/time/specials/2007/article/0,28804,1779365_1779366_1779370,00.html

Murphy And His Law

Now Murphy (though a fictional fellow), was a smart man. He's probably come closest to having all the answers to our existence than the non-fictional sect of philosophers.
And what was this wise man's theory? Ahh, the wise man he said :"Whatever can go wrong will go wrong, and at the worst possible time, in the worst possible way." Now that my firends is life in a nutshell! At least my life in a nutshell.

How else would you possibly explain when your calculator stops working right in the middle of a math exam? Or when you spill something indelible on the sofa, just when you're expecting company? Or when you realize at the checkout counter that you've left your wallet at home! Ooh..or when the presentation that you spent all night preparing, doesn't open on the day it's due?

Sure we may complain (and don't we just love to do that), but if you think about it, how terribly bland would it be if nothing ever went wrong? If that guitar string didn't snap in the middle of a serenade, or if the mustard from your hot dog didn't spill over on your new shirt..where would all the punchlines go? So much for witty conversation at dinner parties or any narration beginning with 'You'll never believe what happened to me the other day!..' People would just rant on about their perfect lives..their horrendously boring perfect lives!

So, I think every mishap happens for a reason; that it serves a greater purpose of sorts. I might not necessarily feel the same way at the point where i'm the victim, but hey, at least i'll have a story to tell!
And I take your leave with this borrowed verse:

I never had a slice of bread,
Particularly large and wide,
That did not fall upon the floor,
And always on the buttered side.


Cheers.

Incomplete Rainbow

So my brother is colourblind.
Oh i'm serious. This is not the opening line of a joke or anything; my brother is colourblind.

Contrary to what the name of the 'disability' might suggest, a person afflicted with colourblindness is not unable to percieve any form of colour entirely; he/she is just not able to differenciate between what may appear as very similar hues. Between blue and purple for example, or even red and brown. 

I like to attribute the discovery of my sibling's shortcoming to myself (thanks, very much)..to 15-year old me actually. It's not rocket-science really. I didn't have any suspicions and hold up some colour charts to his face or anything. I just happened to stumble upon 11-year old bro sprawled on the floor, colouring the pacific ocean in his history map...purple.
Now, my brother is a trouble-maker, but not in a "Hah take that!" sort of way. He's more likely to set up camp in the 'wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time' category. That's why i figured his violet equivalent of the Red Sea wasn't intentional. So after stopping him from creating what seemed like a diseased ocean, I held up some colour pencils for him to differenciate. On coming to the conclusion that he really did have a problem, we marched over to tell the folks of our breakthrough. It took a while to get dad to take us seriously, but mum was in denial..she still is.
There really is nothing you can do to change the fact that you're colourblind. Perhaps maybe, an operation of sorts, but it really isn't a life-changing discovery. We did have to make some minor alterations to our lifestyle however.
Firstly, i had to be sure that brother dear wouldn't mistake my toothbrush for his (we share the same loo). So whenever we did buy a pair, i'd go out of my way to make sure that the colours were as far apart on the spectrum as science would allow, even if it meant mine being a garishly yellow brush while his was a dull blue.  
Another thing we learned was never to ask him to bring us a green colour pencil (hey i used them in school!) or a green folder, because the poor chap would just as innocently get us the brown one.
Strangely, he's never had an issue matching his clothes. Although at times he does need a little advice on whether this tie goes with that shirt. But then again who doesn't right?
I asked him once if he could decipher when the colour of the traffic lights changed from red to green (or vice versa).
"Even if i couldn't," he declared, "I can see the lights change can't I??"
I knew that! I was just..erm..checking.
 

Cheers.

We Don't Need No Education!

I've come to conclusion (after much thought ofcourse) that being a dunce is the only way to go! Even my average-student status is jumping the gun a bit much, if you ask me. Patience..don't get your knickers/boxers in a twist just yet. Don't i always explain?

So i'm telling you, i've got facts! There's at least one college/highschool dropout at the topmost rung of every career ladder in this whacked out world of ours.

Pursuing a career in IT? Look to Bill Gates for inspiration; he figured Harvard was not good enough for the likes of him!
Aspiring to be a renowned film director/producer? I'm sure Steven Spielberg will be more than willing to stress on the insignificance of education.
How about Kurt Cobain? Sure he had issues, but don't we all love Nirvana? The band..not the state of mind. But then again..whatever works for ya.
Or maybe you dream of one day turning the world around with a mind-numbing, sock-dropping physics theory? Yes Albert Einstein, was a vagabond of a physician in his day.
George W. Bush? Well, since we're discussing truly inspirational figures, (ahem) he must've graduated (at least twice), if you know what i mean! ;)

So I say, relaax. Take it easssy. Take a mid-semester vacation or something! Let those class toppers rough it out coz' in the long run we know that's it's us back-benchers who will rise to the occasion in the end.

Until next time,

Cheers!

Marital Menagerie

Having recently turned 20, and having been born to a community such as mine, i'm starting to get accustomed to the rising tension associated with conversations containing snippets of 'we must start looking for a good boy..' (mum) and 'you know shash, it is our obligation as parents..' (dad).

As the months fly by i've also noticed the increasing frequency with which mum asks me if i have a 'boyfriend,' and have learned to amuse myself with parring frequency; at first it was 'No ma, relax,' then i tried 'Yes mother, i've got a harem of suitors each waiting for their turn,' and finally i had a go at 'Actually mum, i've been having a 3-year relationship with the shopguy downstairs who's currently planning our elopement!' That last witticism earned me a glare that could've put the Huns to shame, but it was oh-so worth it! Not-so-surprisingly i haven't heard much on the subject since.

But honestly, the arranged-marriage system is a farce and a half! Now now critics, don't get me wrong..i'm all up for a little selective breeding, just hear me out. You remember how as a child you'd visit the zoo? You'd stop at the different enclosures, study each inmate, and at the end of the trip you'd decide which creature was your favourite. Well..that zoo-trip is a pretty accurate description of the afore-mentioned process.

Ok i admit..i'm probably exaggerating a tad. The ways of the hired hit-man cupid have definitely evolved over the years. You'll see less adverts in The Daily's marital column (parents seek pretty, domesticated girl for their 26-year old, not-so-attractive son), folks are now willing to consider their offspring's take on the issue, and gone are the days when the bride's trousseau (including wedding-night intimates) were openly displayed to all those holding an invitation card.

It's not so bad a game, this. Just a terribly amusing one.


Cheers.

Stereotypically Stereotypical!

Stereotype: A fixed, commonly held notion or image of a person or group, based on an oversimplification of some observed or imagined trait of behaviour or appearance.

I never did understand stereotyping. I've always thought it's society's way of making things easier. Think of it this way..the universe is one big filing cabinet and each individual being it's files; the secretary is society personified, and the act of arranging each file chronologically a metaphor for stereotyping.
The need to classify the 'geek' or the 'intellectually challenged' is beyond me. I am yet to find one person that fits each shoe perfectly.
Take me for example: I hate to cook, yet love to clean (domestically-adept or domestically-challenged?). My taste in music has no boundaries (not a rocker, not a hippie?). I adore both a good crossword and a challenging sudoku (words AND numbers?). I appreciate the occassional chick flick and war movie too (man or woman??). I'm cool with fast food for lunch and fine dining for dinner (Filet Mignon with FrenchFries?). 

Quite the stereotypical nightmare eh? Here..let me help classify me. As proclaimed from the wise saying on a friend's t-shirt: 'I am what i am.'


Think about it..cheers.