If all the World was a Stage

Apparently there's a reason why little girls love their Barbie dolls and the little (and not-so-little) boys adore their car-sets. For the very same reason, the loveless turn to romance novels for reprieve and the bored-with-their-lives seek refuge indulging in the lives of others. Turns out it's human nature to hunt down and cling on to the stuff missing in our own existence, or what we hope will shape ourselves in the near future.

Above-mentioned little girls would love to be as pretty as Barbie, and the boys long to one day own cars as cool. The broken-hearted want faith in romance again, and the drama-less want drama.

Most of us resort to a self-prescribed dosage of the idiot-box to get us through. The chick-flicks for a guaranteed happily-ever-after. A high-powered action film where the bad guys always finish last. Or a good old musical where there's a pinch of tension, but everything really is right with the world.

But at the end of each movie, we have to get back to our oh-so-real, drab and unfair lives. Where we can't just do things on a whim and expect everything to turn out alright. Where there actually is such a thing as unrequited love. Where people die and don't come back two episodes later. Where everybody's skinny sans-lipo.

If only real life did resemble the movies. All we'd have to do to elevate world peace say, is get the nuns to sing: 'How do we solve a problem like nuclear warfareee?,' and soon all will be well with the world. If only the bad guys really would end up last. If only all men were like that chap in P.S-I Love You, and all women were well..oh I don't know. Lara Croft? And how great would it be, like in Grease, if given no notice whatsoever everyone knew the lyrics and steps to a sudden song and dance routine. 

But then we wouldn't have to rely on the TV for relief any longer. Unless it's those brocolli-stuck-in-teeth moments we're after..or wedgies.

Cheers.

 

You know you're unemployed when...

- You know the names of all the CNN anchors, including the weather reporters.

- The concept of a new chore is appealing.

- You become overly bummed-out when you reach the last page of the 'Appointments' supplement.

- A pigeon smashing against your window is the highlight of your day.

- Finding that missing sock is a mission on par with The Big Bang experiment.

- Time-management is a fast-diminishing notion, and the significance of a calendar is forgotten.

- That painting on the wall is never hung straight enough.

The Gentleman's Game?

In Sri Lanka, cricket is a passion that borders on religion. And I don't just mean that as a comparison.

The day of a match, productivity at workplaces hits a slump, and school kids smuggle in little radio's to keep up with the scores. That cup-wielding beggar on the street pavement can serve as a reliable enough source to fill in an uninformed passer-by on who just got whom out. We buy the team jerseys just to wear when we're at home watching the game, hoping our supportive vibes will somehow radiate through the TV and onto the players.

All this, just for a test match.

So you can just imagine the hype involved in a proper one-day, let alone the World Cup.  

You should watch my mum. No-one who sees her on a day-to-day basis would figure that this woman can transform into a rowdy fanatic at the click of a button. Dad's the more sober sort..but if a wicket goes down in our favour, the fan in him will an oh-so-dramatic 'yes!'

The team players are revered all over the country, via billboards and adverts that that have absolutely no relevance to the sport. We can recognize their wives from the stands, and their cars on the streets; sort of like what football is to the rest of the world.

In fact there's a match taking place as I type. Those fortunate enough to have access to cable can bask in the luxury of pressing their faces onto their flatscreens. But my poor deprived (yet dedicated) soul will have to settle for reading the play-by-play commentary online.

It's dangerous, this addiction we possess, but as a county that's been through so much for far too long, this is the tape that holds the broken pieces together. And our heroes in blue, save us in more ways than they'll ever know.

Cheers.

Exam Mania!

Walking to a friend's place the other day I couldn't help but stop and read what some kid had finger-written on the dirty windshield of an abandoned car:

"IGCSE: New Horror Movie"

Not only was it hilarious, but the fact that this 16-17 year old had abandoned the more popular "CLEAN ME" in deference to this slogan, was an obvious reflection of his/her brewing frustration. This was probably the closest thing to vengeance the poor kid could muster.

I remember sitting for my boards (I realize I sound senile, but i'll take that risk); the sleepless nights, the caffeine dependency, and probably the one stage in our life where the girls looked terrible and the boys couldn't care less.

The atmosphere in the examination hall was ominous to say the least. Literal pin-drop silence where you could hear the person at the far end of the auditorium erasing a portion of an unsatisfactory diagram, or a calculation gone wrong. The ticking clock on the wall was your arch-nemesis, and the invigilator it's closest cohort.

But on the day it was all over, we celebrated with whatever energy we could summon; the majority of us calling it an early night so as to catch up on months of lost sleep.

Looking back, I think I speak for everyone when I wish I would've taken it easier. Sure, the results are crucial to shaping our future (blah, blah..), but it's not that life-and-death situation we allow ourselves to believe. The fact that in actuality there are kids who take their own lives over one measly point, is just not funny.

I'm not some presidential hopeful, or brilliant sportsperson to be asked what message I'd like to send out..but I'll say it anyway. 

Work hard...but get some sleep!

Cheers.

 

Survival of the Fittest

I don't know the exact phrase, but apparently 'they' say it's money that brings out the worst in people. I say it's traffic.

Not that i'm a officially lisenced (yet), but being on the passenger seat is proof enough. Sort of a sympathy versus empathy thing happening.

Horns will honk loud enough to surpass the sound barrier, and fenders will not just touch, but merge into one!

For those on a schedule, or a hurry to get someplace there's a whole other story altogether. The most meek of individuals will discover they have a vocabulary so colourful that it'll put a rainbow to shame. As for the frequent swearer's, they'll accumulate enough swear-miles to buy themselves a house!

Chivalry dies a merciless death and road-courtesy is an extinct phrase. A certain finger is brandished as the weapon of choice, and the common temperament is enough to make the chirpy baby in the 'baby-on-board' sticker cry.

Mini-coopers give Hummers a run for their money, and fresh-faced motorists 'cut' past the veterans of the road.

Blood pressure's rise above doctor's orders, and even the cheery radio jockeys are too irritating to bear.

But once that bout of jam is surpassed, and only smooth riding is foreseen, we breathe again. A smile slowly seeps in, and that rock-solid exterior turns into mushy, pleasant again. Until the bell for the next round sounds..all's well with the world.

Cheers.

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.

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

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.