Why a Tattoo?

RD’s post got me thinking about tattoos. Leaving aside his question of whether ugly people should get tattoos (I didn't know good looks were a pre-req!), I was thinking more along the lines of why people get tattoos. Of course it is a fad. Everyone has one so I MUST get one. But really, its quite painful and its forever. So why not just get a stick on? (covers face in shame for posing such a silly question).

I’ve been thinking of getting a new tattoo. The last time I got one, I was literally screaming in pain. And it’s a tad embarrassing to think back on it now, because it didn’t really hurt that much. More like perceived pain. All psychological. You’d think a psych student would figure that one out before hand.. sigh..

Anyway, it was a spur of the moment thing. Not fantastically well drawn, nor fantastically well executed, and will always remind me of a time when things were quite fantastic for me. My perfect, magical summer, during which, as cliché as this may sound, I actually changed and became a person I was comfortable with, someone I liked. The tattoo itself isn’t of anything symbolic. Its just two little flowers, bearing resemblance to araliya flowers, which I love. The significance of the tattoo lies in the place and time, and what I felt during that time. It will always remind me of people, and a boy, who taught me a hell of a lot about myself and about life.

And now I’m waiting for something to happen so that I can get a second tattoo. Because that’s what, to me, tattoos are about, I suppose. A symbol of something important, a visible, if not tangible reminder of what was and how it could still be. I have had a vague idea of one, since I came back for my holiday. Nothing important has happened, but I’ve noticed something that’s been missing for me since I got back, and that’s the freedom I was enjoying when I was by myself. Now I have to answer to the where are u going, what time, with who questions, and I really don’t like it. So maybe I will get a freedom or maybe an independence tattoo, just to remind myself of the importance of those things, and how i should value it, for so many people don't. As done as that may sound, it really is just for myself and not anyone else. Not a fashion statement at all really, but an expression of who I am and what’s important to me.

The River

I just can't get enough of this song.

Pre- 21 Jitters

So on the eve of the bday, I am feeling undeniably nervous. K did tell me that you get the post-21 jitters, but I hadn’t heard about the pre-21 jitters. I’ve always been one of those people who look forward to their bdays with ridiculous enthusiasm. It’s because this is the one day that’s all mine. Well, not ALL mine but you know what I mean. I’m also such a closet attention whore. Closeted because I don’t crave attention in public, I don’t introduce myself to random people nor do any attention-drawing stunts. So on this one day that is all mine, I bask in the spotlight. I love the phone calls and the text messages, the gifts. But most of all, I love the cards. Oh glorious cards! I always save them and then lose them, so they pop up unexpectedly in random places. Just recently I came across a card Bob sent me last year asking me some very personal questions. In my BDAY card! And instead of sending it to the US, she sent it to my house HERE, where my mother undoubtedly opened it. Sigh..

Anyway, to get back on track. Yes, the jitters are here, butterflies and the works. All this year I couldn’t wait to turn 21. Waiting for that day when I could walk into a bar and buy myself a drink. And now its here. But with it comes the overwhelming responsibility of adulthood and all that goes with it. I would like to think I am a somewhat responsible person. I am the oldest, after all, and the whole ‘set an example thing’ has been drilled into me since the brother was born. But I’m still pretty childish in many ways, and no doubt I will be yet for many years to come. But now the dreaded future is here, and I am so very unprepared. I don’t know what I want to do with myself, with my life. I have lofty dreams of houses by the beach and making my mark and meeting the perfect guy, but the hows of these dreams are not yet thought out. Most people my age have a vague idea of what they want to do with themselves by now. I have none. I can tell you what I don’t want to do with myself, so maybe by process of elimination I can come to some conclusion, but try as I might, this conclusion remains elusive still.

Added to that, this summer has been strange and different in more ways than one. New friends have been made, and old ones have been lost. Things have not lived up to expectation, and I have been made a fool of many times. Regardless, I have had good times too. I’ve become closer to people who I knew only vaguely and learnt things about myself that I didn’t know. So maybe this hasn’t been the great summer the last one was, but it has been one of losing and learning . And its not over yet.

So yes, I am nervous. Not so much about the age but about the label attached to it. I honestly believe you are as old as you feel, and I rarely ever feel older than 18. Of course I do go through those ‘well when I was that age we never did that’ moments when I see something scandalous done by a ‘young one’, but more or less I think (hope) I’ll be 18 till I die. [cringes and dies with the shame of using that cliché]

And feel free to leave a comment wishing me a happy bday. You know I’ll love it :)

...

The little girl is back, and I couldn't be happier.

Rain, Candlelight and Reminiscings

What a great day yesterday was! Just my kind. Rainy and windy, got the house all to myself, a bottle of white wine in the fridge just begging to be drunk. So I poured my self a glass and sat on the front porch, to watch the rain. How nostalgic. Just like back in the day, when I used to sit in the very same place, except back then it was sans the wine, and a few minutes later me and the siblings would be splashing in the mini pool that had formed.

There’s something really spectacular about a rainy day. Some people prefer bright, sunny days because they are bright and perky people. I don’t think liking a rainy day makes me all doom and gloom. Maybe it’s because I’m a water person. I love the sea. I like streams and rivers and waterfalls. I even like watering the plants. So I like rain. I like the steady patter of rain on the roof and the trickle of water down the leaves and onto the grass. I like the smell of rain before, during and after a shower. I like the way everything is bright and clean afterwards. I like snuggling under the covers when there’s a thunderstorm outside, with a good book and my rainy day song playing. I like getting up in the middle of the night to watch the sky light up or wake up in the morning to a grey sky that insists I stay in bed an hour longer. I’ve seen it rain from all over the world, but never quite as I’ve seen it from my window a hundred times.

And of course rainy days invariably lead to another topic. Power cuts. Oh how we detest them. Just had my first power cut in a couple of years yesterday. Brought back memories, it did. Ugh, I'm getting so nostalgic in my old age, but there’s something about candlelight. Remember those days when we had power cuts for hours everyday? I was either in year 9 or year 11, of that I’m sure. A friend of mine and I used to talk for hours on the phone cuz there was nothing else to do. Literally as soon as the lights went off I’d call him. We talked waay too much. Still do, as a matter of fact.

But back to candlelight. I remember studying by candlelight, burning the ends of my hair for entertainment, in between chapters. Then there were the little wax drop things. I’d sit by the pond in my house, with a candle, dripping wax into the water and watching it make perfect little circles. Sometimes we’d drip it into a bowl and then thread it together to make a chain. My, how jobless! But twas fun. Then there were the forbidden candles. The artsy ones that were just for show, never EVER to be lit. And we never did light them, for the wrath of the mother would have been great. So yesterday, just to be rebellious, I lit three. They were really pretty too. Different colors and all. But then guilt took over and I blew them out after 2 minutes. Sigh.

But there’s something about candlelight… now I’m not into that sentimental crap; candles and romance and all that.. oh who am I kidding, I’m such a closet romantic. But anyway, candlelight is really pretty. There really is something about soft, yellow candlelight in the dark. I don’t know what it is, but there’s something…

An ode (but not really) to coffee

My latest craze. Anything coffee. But not toffees. Coffee toffees are stretching it, don’t you think? I guess its one of those things I inherited from the mother (like the love for shoes and a good hair cut). For as long as I can remember the first thing she did upon waking up was make a beeline to the kitchen to make herself a mug of coffee. Daily, without fail. Über sweet too. But I didn’t start drinking coffee till a few years ago. It was a now and then thing, because, really, coffee didn’t do anything for me. Still doesn’t in fact, except for titillating (haha thats a funny word) my taste buds. It doesn’t kick start me in the morning, and it doesn’t keep me awake at night while I [pretend to] study. Nevertheless, as of recently, I drink it by the gallon. It has become a must have in the morning. Not so much when I'm here in Sri Lanka, but back in school, wading through 4 feet of snow on my way to class, I gotta make that stop at the coffee shop for my morning cup of joe. Now at first I had a dilemma. You see, there is a Starbucks on campus. And as all coffee addicts know, Starbucks is heaven. But Starbucks is also pricey. Then there’s this other place, fair trade coffee and whatnot, straight from Brazil. Buy it and the farmers get a fair price. So, $4 for a cup of heaven or $1.50 for a good cause? Its not a dilemma really. My mother says I’m cheap. I prefer the word economical. Fair trade coffee it is, and its quite good really, if you add enough creamer.

Creamer. A perfectly good way to spoil perfectly good coffee. When I first got to the States and had my first cup of coffee I said omg (father-style) what IS this watery crap?!! See, I grew up mixing my Nescafe in real milk. You heat a glass of milk, stir in the coffee and a teeny bit of sugar and Voilà! But nooo, its like there’s a milk shortage here. What is this mixing the coffee with water nonsense?! So I’m the girl who holds the line up, early in the morning, while I add 7 little creamer containers into my coffee. Why 7? Because that’s my favorite number, and the coffee tastes just right after. Also, after 7 creamers, you don’t need any sugar. I like to actually taste the coffee, not numb my taste buds with sickly sweetness. So yes, rich and not too sweet, that’s how I like my coffee. Is that how I like my men, you may ask (you could tell I was building up to this, right? Sigh, I’m so transparent) Indeed, says I. I even have that shirt “Men, chocolate, coffee. Some things are just better rich”. [hey, don’t judge me. PLAN B damn it!]

Back to my story. So winter became spring, and the snow melted and tulips grew (I really love tulips) and Starbucks began to advertise ice coffee. ICE COFFEE. Damn, I hadn’t had ice coffee since I left home! I was first in line, fooled into thinking it was real ice coffee. What a rip off. They handed me a cup of the same watery crap with ice cubes. I had to take a minute, count to 10 and all that, before adding 7 creamers and walking away. Which brings me to Sri Lankan ice coffee. Orgasmic. And you can’t fuck with it man. Don’t be adding powdered milk and shit. Bring out the big guns. You gotta have that Nestle tin kiri (what IS that in English?), and the shot of brandy and all that. There’s this lady in New Jersey (Sri Lankan, of course) who puts real cream and Bailey’s and stuff into her ice coffee. It’s like a heart attack in a cup. But that’s ok, you’ll die happy. So, much to my delight, Elephant House has decided to sell ice coffee in bottles. I buy it by the dozen. It is delicious, but minus the brandy. So now I don’t have to beg and plead for my grandmother to make it, even though she makes the best, of course. [for the interested, its not available everywhere. Cargills, for instance, does not sell it, but Keells does, and Arpico. How disturbing that I know all this.]

So, this is a toast to coffee. May you live long and prosper, and continue to satisfy generations of coffee lovers everywhere. Now, I have said too much, so am off to eat my ice cream. Coffee flavored, of course.

Decisions, decisions..

Aaaargh! Two years into my degree, I suddenly realize that I may not be as interested in psychology as I thought I was. It still interests me, I suppose, but I haven’t figured out what to do with it. Finding an internship this summer related to my major has turned out to be impossible. The little forward thinking I have done regarding a possible career has only drawn blanks so far. And since my lifestyle insists that I must have some money at least, I am stuck with a now what? The only thing I really love to do is write, but law is starting to look appealing, as is political science. But is it too late to change, or what if I change and don’t like it? I am yet to start thinking about start thinking about business-y fields, not being that desperate. Yet. Ugh, the very word bores me to tears.

So now what? Plan B? Rich husband?

OMG?

Is it just me or does it amuse/annoy anyone else when people use text/IM speak in regular conversation?

Recently I was having a chat with my sister on skype. As usual, the father pushes me aside insisting he has important things to say to the girl. So I dibble dabble with my cell phone on the side, when, in response to something she said, I hear him say OMG. No, not oh my god. He actually said the letters OMG. I freeze. Oh no he didn't just say that!! He says it again. I cover my ears and run screaming from the room. My father is becoming a tad too new-generation-ish for my liking. He recently joined FB (the horror!), but that's a different post entirely.

Another one. We’re at Crescat having lunch and Eyeliner S (I have decided to start naming my friends. That’s not her name, obviously, but she wears lots of eyeliner and her name starts with S, so.. leave me alone! I can call her what I want!) is talking to Dramatic L (figure that one out…) on the phone, and she says “ Ok bye, come asap”. ASAP. Just like that. Wrong, wrong ,wrong! (oh no, I hope ViC doesn’t get on my case for that one).

So how does this work? Is it ok to use text speak in real life? Can you say “hey brb” to someone like you do on msn or should we actually say the words? What say you, the public?

Roads and Rage

Midway through my driving lessons I have discovered two things about myself.

1. I have a need for speed

2. I have intense road rage.

The first, I have been told, all newbies on the road go through. You know that feeling, when you step on the accelerator and the car just jumps. Tis too cool for school. Actually I’ve only known that feeling twice. The first time I was heading towards a lamp post and near death, having mistaken the accelerator for the brake (oops). Not to worry, daddy dear saved the day by leaping across and stopping the car with magical powers that only fathers possess. (Other powers include conjuring money out of thin air and/or the mighty wallet (sometimes with no questions asked. Gasp!), and the ability to read minds accompanied by the all powerful NO, hence negating the need for any actual dialog, resulting in the following: thaths can I... NO). But I digress. The second time was last week, on the back roads off duplication road. All that empty space gave me an itch that could only be relieved by a little zooming. So zoom I did. Much to the displeasure of the driving-teaching person who gave me an earful. WTF, I am Sri Lankan after all! Speeding is a birthright.

On to my second discovery. This road rage, I find, is rather worrying. Every blaring of a horn or scornful look courtesy a trishaw driver makes my blood boil. Every pedestrian who has not crossed by the time the light turns orange earns a glare from me. And jaywalking? Forget about it! I ain't stopping for no one! Added to that, I’m female. God forbid a female should operate a man’s machine! So in addition to the scornful/step on it bitch looks, I get the ah nangi, koheyda yannes and the shaa meya balannakos. And of course silence is not one of my virtues so back come the ai thamuseta prashnayakdas and the mokada huththo balannes (ok, so I haven’t actually said that yet, scary driver lady being next to me, but I have thought it numerous times).

Needless to say, driving has become one of the high points of my holiday. The need for speed coupled with the road rage is sure to make me feel right at home on SL streets once I am legit behind the wheel. The roads here are really something else. Law? What law? Get out of my way mofo. I have places to go and people to see. Await me Sri Lanka!

In other road-related news, I came up with some fantastic swear words yesterday while stuck in the worst traffic jam I have ever seen, on my way to watch the rugby match. A drive which usually takes 20 minutes max took an hour and a half, and I was ready to cut the first bitch that crossed me. Seeing our honorable first lady’s over-powdered face the minute I stepped into CR didn’t help in the least. Cursing mahinda and his chinthanaya, I joined the crowds and channeled my anger towards elbowing over-dressed teeny boppers out of my way. In fact, I went out of my way to elbow them out of my way, if that makes sense. My old pal the duckling wasn't amused by my overzealous shouts of 'referee hora' and 'duvapang Bilal'. Understandable, since I had no idea who Bilal was. Hey, I was just following instructions from one of my all-time fave posts. The boys behind me were funny, Royal won and I had a long overdue chat with an old friend over chicken kottu, so at least the evening ended on a high note.

I think I need to start meditating... or maybe anger management classes?

a rainy day song

One of the best listen-to-while-lying-in-bed-on-a-rainy-day songs I've ever heard.

Questions

Just a few thoughts (and questions) regarding the 'vacating of the Lodges':

1). Read this in a post. "All Tamils may not be suicide bombers but all suicide bombers are Tamils". So now what? Pack up all the Tamils and send them to the North and East? Can we then be assured that there will be no more suicide attacks?

2). If Tamils who have 'no valid reason' to be in Colombo should be sent back to the North, does that mean they belong only to the North? Then along the same lines, does this mean that I, a Sinhala-Buddhist born in Colombo, should stay in Colombo and not visit any other part of the country I am a citizen of without a 'valid' reason? What exactly would be termed a valid reason anyway? And what happened to our right to freedom of movement?

3). Along the same lines, why don't we just separate the country, hand the North to the Tamil people and end the war? Seems to me that we would be pleasing both parties. LTTE wants a separate state for the Tamils and GoSL wants Colombo free of Tamils. Makes sense, no?

4). Many seemed concerned about the 'ethnic cleansing' title given to the situation. So how many people (of one race) must you illegally evict for it to be termed 'ethnic cleansing'? Furthermore, (dare I call on Shakespeare?) what's in a name? Does it really matter what it's called? Is it not still a gross violation of human rights whether its called an ethnic cleansing or an eviction, simply by looking at the facts?

5). In the eyes of the international community, we have now further validated the cause for which the LTTE is fighting for. How can we now say that the LTTE does not represent the Tamil people, when we hold all Tamil people under suspicion of being terrorists?

6). Sarcasm aside, this article really teed me off. Isn't the Government required to maintain the moral high ground and not stoop to the level of a terrorist organization? Maybe the reason kottu bloggers didn't make such a big "haaa hooo" over the "closure of Mavil Aru anicut by LTTE" was because the LTTE are already violating human rights as it is, and have been for a while now. This is nothing new. But the GoSL represents US. So who else should make a haa hoo? Who else should ask that the Government be held accountable for this disgraceful action?

For me, personally, it is heartbreaking to see pictures of little children staring out of bus windows, being sent back to a war torn area that they have managed to escape. Should they not have the same opportunities as us to be educated and make a better life for themselves? Or is that right now only reserved for the Sinhalese and maybe Muslims? What happened to the innocent until proven guilty theory? And does this action not further add fuel to the fire in the hearts of the Tamil people who already feel discriminated against?

My fear is that we may have sent back 376 Tamils of which say, just to pick a random number, 100 were potential suicide bombers, but when they return as per Supreme Court instructions (if that's ever carried out) the number will be much higher. The repercussions of this foolish act will, I fear, be great. And this time we would deserve it, for we (especially those who did NOT make a haa hoo) are guilty of supporting an undeniably racist move by the government.