tinsnap

i did a double take. mostly because it looked exactly like mine, except this lot was all blonde and schtuff. anyway, traffic light, mom, dad, three girls.

mom looking pensive and worried and scrutinizing the road and air and planetary alignments probably (yes, i mean this all at once). dad looking mostly confused by the existence of a traffic light. tallest daughter looking about and all for crossing the road until she saw the bus barrelling toward her. the not-too-tall-but-not-the-shortest one observing what must be the imaginary hat on her head and the shortest one, well, being short in the way skinny teenagers are gangly and awkward and ally mcbeal was weird.

i’m alarmed by how similar this is to my family and given a bit of artistic airbrushing and a moustache on the dude, that would be my family. i’m torn between feeling (yes, i occasionally indulge in that) horrified by the similarity and comforted that we seem to be normal at least as we go on vacation together, pretend to put up with one another and are joined in (unwilling) solidarity when we find out the bloody traffic light system doesn’t make sense.

it’s gotten to a stage where i probably get so riled up about it that i may even sound rude about this, but screw that.here’s some lengthy stuff:

i was in a christian school. actually, i think it was one of those anglican ones, and since i still can’t figure out the denominations and why they need so many when there’s only 3 impt people (god, JC and mary) in the whole story, we’ll leave it at that. anyway, so i’m 6 when i enter school and the first thing i hear about is this amazing god and how anyone who doesn’t believe in him must be going to hell. then i learn about islam and how anyone who doesn’t believe in allah is going to hell. i was miserable as a sodden dog and developed a mild form of hatred for my parents because i’m hindu. i’m fucked either way. we have to kill people and their parents and spit on their bodies and moon them to go to hell and all these guys needed was disbelief?! Dude.

when you’re six and everyone around you’s telling you that you’re going to hell, it’s not much fun. so i dutifully sang every hymn there was (in my artistic tone deaf manner..god probably hates me or was having a laugh) and prayed harder than anyone else (i know because i checked and closed my eyes tighter and held my hands closer and hung my head lower than anyone else). i wasn’t going to hell. nosirree

ok so obviously i aged and grew wise and now have a laugh at my self of the past. however, it seems that kids are still not educated about multiple religions and coexisting, etc. and its spreading. two days ago, i spoke to my friend’s brother (who i adore because he’s grown up to look like a beansprout and i laugh all the time). there’s a club in his school, a christian fellowship and a girl went up to him and said, “have you thought about accepting the lord jesus as your saviour” to which his response was “i haven’t even thought about lunch yet..”

now, if there were a bunch of muslim kids who started like, an allah appreciation society, the school would disallow it and most likely call it a terrorist breeding ground or if hindus brought out their idols we’d probably be named pagans, but if a bunch of kids walk about talking about jesus that’s fine? this isn’t so much an issue about belief. by all means, have your religion and eat it too. but for fucksakes don’t shove it down someone else’s throat. it’s a matter of respect.

the whole thing also reminded me of two distinctly funny things though. one, that monty python’s life of brian saw a whole bunch of believers of permutations of the important three gather outside a NY cinema and brandish slogans and pitchforks (i make this up because i think it’s funny) at John Cleese and co and his co star said “at least we’ve made them come together on something” and second, some comedian said to his audience one night that the Christians would all die and find out when they arrive that the Jews were right.

now in parting, after my mostly disjointed plethora, if there is a god and there is a religion, etc..which all knowing omnipresent being would so selfishly draw itself away from one person or dump him/her in a hell because of a lack of belief..it sounds almost human in its myopia. i shall contemplate this, perhaps all the way to hell..

it seems i’m a graduate..this is messing with my mind. i’m supposed to have coffee with a professor and ‘look back on the years’ at some point in the coming weeks. i’m not sure what i should be looking back at because it’s been four years and i’ve aged in a non-melodramatic way and my memory’s shot..anway, i have narrowed the plethora of who-what-how-gobshite in my mind to three things: the people i’ve met, the places i’ve been and the thing i find most frustrating (a revelation that comes with age i believe)

in the first 18 years of my life, there might be 4 people worth mentioning whose acquaintance i still value. two of them are still about, one of them’s not and the last is imaginary. but i’ve met some brilliant people in the past four years. i’ve met maybe 15 people whose company i truly enjoy in prolonged doses. that’s crazy. i’m the worst person to know because i’m rubbish company and i have fawlty tendencies but i like these 15 people. i really do. i need to sit down.

two, i’ve been to amazing places and with each i’ve not ‘learnt’ something new or gained invaluable life experience or anything profound like that, but i’ve had fun. alcohol laced freedom tossed fun

i’ve realised thought that as much as i adore the people i’ve met and had a lot of fun, my existence frustrates me like these 18 year old soccer players earning an African nation’s GDP in a week frustrates me. it’s not pessimism that is being voiced, but a frustration at having accomplished what i deem to be little. i’ve not done one thing that i think is interesting in the past 4 years. nothing. if i were reading a book about myself, i’d be bored. that horrifies me. i wasn’t expecting to be a chapter of harrypotty or anything, just didn’t expect to be so bloody dull.

i spent some time contemplating this. i have reached the conclusion that i am the human equivalent of a scone. bland and mostly just round and boring. always needs butter/jam/something. why can’t i be more exciting..like batman or something. i don’t want to die boring.

i was out some nights back and mentioned my utter devotion to the ram-ster, and the immediate (and this was rather unnervingly quick) reaction was “BUT WHAT ABOUT HIS WRINKLES”

well, what about them. if i had wrinkles on my head like gordon ramsay, i would admittedly look like a shar pei sorrowfully contemplating the fate of my head..but the wrinkles aren’t the issue. the wrinkles are as much of a non-issue as is wayne rooney’s stupidity or beckham’s helium voice..heck, the issue isn’t even his cooking. i’ve never tried it and because it’s on tv it looks wonderful and hopefully, the british aren’t all idiots to give his food a thumbs up and the michelin folks aren’t all idiots because the stars were just a fluke success at marketing..

the point of ramsay is his amazing ability to get away with all the cock he spouts on the screen. the man slags off everything that moves or dares breathe at the wrong tempo in his presence. and he GETS AWAY WITH IT. what does it say about the rest of the idiots who are cooking (except jamie oliver because everyone likes a tubby essex boy (?!) ) who can’t stand up for themselves..

my point is two pronged:

1. the man’s good, did i say good, i meant fucking awesomepossum-style, television. frankly, that he’s in television shows you chefs will never cut it without becoming larger than life and slapped all over something and bleeped out (anthony bourdain had to travel AND be gay..) but he’s refused to be some television channel’s or supermarket’s bitch and diluted himself..the only things he’s done wrong is to be in cahoots with janet street porter who appears in my nightmares and tries to chew my fingers while informing me that her body is a temple

2. he gets away with it - if that isn’t power, i don’t know what is

i feel inclined to get up and cheer at the mention of his name..

you know what else is asinine..this thought process:

1. oh look i’m a verbose ass and can’t shorten what i’ve written and i can’t accept that a paragraph can have two points in it (clap of thunder)

2. oh no we’ve got a 20 page word limit (more thunder)

3. let’s put all the points in a separate paragraph each and remove all the space between paragraphs

4. oh no!! it looks like a large blob. I know!! let’s indent the start of each ‘paragraph’ to make sure the professor (because he is dumb, obviously..) knows it’s a new paragraph

5. oh look we occupy the same amount of space because by indenting and adding subheaders we have forced out enough 2 word lines..

6. no we cannot change this format dumb as it looks because we submitted it like this for some IB project and the professor didn’t say anything so it is now cast in stone that ugly papers can be submitted and we will proceed to poll this in a ‘democratic’ manner so that thenuga can’t throw a hissing fit about it and claw our eyes out..

oh how i’ve forced myself to stay at home instead of going there and shouting and having a cardiac.

two questions that irk me the most:

1. Who are you - well i don’t know .. isn’t life supposed to be a process of self discovery you bastard? but if you really must know i used to think i was mighty mouse till the lack of tail made me reconsider that and now i think i’m a sabre toothed tiger reincarnate with just the hint of gandhi and pol pot but the media and society has placed so much pressure on me that i’ve developed a case of body dysmorphic disorder and think that i’m too fat now and my alter ego dolly parton wants breast reduction. that’s about it really..so now, who are you?

where are you from? - what is the point of this question? are they asking you what country you’re from or whether you were developed in a uterus versus a test tube..i say i’m from here and all of a sudden i’ve disappointed them..because i’m normal!! the bastards.

honestly, even the weather’s more interesting. at least it’s tied to global warming and our collective doom.

the word haversack sounds like a muppet. bert ernie haversack miss piggie kermit. stuffed socks. sama sama.

i’m in love with three men. here they are:

1. a professor who must not be named because of charm and wit and respect and accents and intellect and cheek kisses and spanish and my cup runneth over in naughty ways.

2. dylan moran because he is the modern day twit with wit (ah ha!! see what i did there..nanananana)

 3. james may because he whooped ramsay’s ass at cooking fish pie. captain slow i kowtow to thee

there’s a fascinating strip in school. every time it rains, the snails come out to play and inevitably they die. i’ve seen all sorts of carcasses there. semi squished, fully squished, liquefied even. and still they don’t learn. as far as evolution is concerned, the concept of a brain cell passed this species by.

i bring this up for a different reason. snails are inertia. you put a snail at one piece of black paper, the next day it’s 5cm from where you put it with a shiny slime trail (i know this because when i was in primary school, i did this). it’s like large companies and change; there’s little to none and when they do ‘change’, they glitz it up like it’s a big deal. get over yourself.

when i was born, i looked like a potato. a shaved potato. or those light varietals you get at tesco. fair, eyes in regular places, and sort of shapeless. i rolled about as a child. i was informed in my formative years (and believe me this has scarred me) that when i was born, my grandmother was quite convinced that i had no nose and proceeded to tug at the general space on my face on my head that my nose should be and i looked like the pre war japanese flag. one central spot of red and broken blood vessels radiating from there.

i was also informed that i waddled as a child. with my diapers, i resembled donald duck. waddle waddle piddle. i loved hulk hogan and i think i might have even said smackdown or cagefight before mummy and proceeded to rip my diapers off. as a sidenote, i was also suicidal as a child. i climbed everything in climbing range for my squat legs and proceeded to throw myself off them.

why the such was allowed is unknown to me, but i could’ve used therapy at an early age. till today i tug at my nose and have succeeded in slamming 3 nose studs either into my own head or smacking them off me while tugging furiously at my nose that now exists atop my face on my head on my shoulders. i waddle when i walk and jump(ed) down flights of stairs till age took its toll and my bones started creaking. i also hit people and have been known to challenge children to cage matches. great epitaph: tugged, waddled & creaked. no more.