Raspootin'

So this flu bug/cough has caused me to partially lose my voice and now I sound all raspy and different and it's aweeeeesomeeee. Of course I'd love it even more if it didn't hurt after 10 minutes of use, but whatever. This happened to me when I was 18, and my ex found it quite sexy, so since then, I feel quite good about myself when I start sounding like Bipasha Basu... after a bout of gooey influenza.

Sad, yes, but one has to find a silver lining wherever one can.

Sick

Feeling nauseated, got a painful, gooey knot at the bottom of my sore throat, a constant stream of sniffles, and a wicked headache.

And it was just a few days ago I was thanking the Lord for having saved me from getting sick all winter. Guess it was just to good to be true.

It's a Boloco kind of day.

If I could turn back time one year to the day
I'd do one thing differently, make one less mistake.

That is all.

Greetings

I think it's odd that when we answer the phone we say "Hello?"

I consider "Hello" a pretty personal type of greeting, reserved for people I actually know. Why would I say "Hello" to a perfect stranger on the phone? Shouldn't I be answering with something more perfunctory and formal? Maybe something like, "State your name and purpose"?

Something to think about.

All Booked Up

I am now on Spring Break but since it was too expensive to go anywhere after having indulged in the trip to the Bahamas, I decided to spend it here. So far, I have achieved various goals for the break, including doing many chores around the house, getting a pedicure (yay!), and getting back to reading.

Yes, the books were piling and piling and I decided to finish at least 6 of them before Sunday. If that sounds ambitious, you should know that there are 21 more on my bookshelves, waiting to be read. So, this is just the tip of the iceberg!

I already finished the first one, Buy-ology by Martin Lindstrom. Considering the man conducted the "largest ever" neuromarketing study, you'd think he'd have some crazy cool insights into how the human brain works, but a lot of what he concluded was fairly obvious to marketers everywhere (e.g. product placement only works in recall if your product is integrated into the plot line - well, duh?) and even after he made these observations, he didn't actually give any tips on how marketers can do such a thing. The whole premise of the book seemed to be, "Look Mommy, I made this cool thing, isn't it cool?" Bah.

Also, his writing was so sloppy and self-indulgent, it really put me off. Do I need to know how waifish and handsome you are, and how you're the best at what you do, and how global companies need you so much that you're home for only 60 days a year? Sorry, that doesn't make you an admirable expert, it makes you look like a man who has no sense of work-life balance and probably a useless personal life to show for it.

See, normally I wouldn't go all nasty on an author but when you open the door, be ready for the crap that follows.

Anyway, on to my next book - Marketing Metaphoria. I've already half of it, so completing it by tonight should be a piece of cake. Stay tuned for the review that rips that apart, too. Heh.

Re-dun-dun-t

Once and for all, I would just like to say that there is technically no such thing as a "Chai Tea Latte".

"Chai" by definition is a Hindi word for tea with milk.

So a "Chai Tea Latte" translates into an incredibly redundant "Tea with Milk with Tea with Milk".

Why can't people (read: Starbucks) understand this? The whole concept is erroneously flawed and frustratingly bothersome! (See how annoying redundancies are?)

It's the economy, stupid.

Towns and municipalities are selling off public spaces to advertisers to boost their flailing budgets in the bad economy. Is public property off limits or is this a stroke of genius?

20 Things I'd Like To Be When I Grow Up

When we are children, we all have crazy ideas about what we want to be when we grow up. Dinosaur hunter, space explorer, mime artist. Friends and relatives ask the question, we provide an answer, they all laugh, shake their heads, comment on our brightness and/or precociousness, and predict we're going to be famous someday.

But somehow, with each passing birthday, these dreams get left by the wayside, eliminated by these same friends and relatives, and yes by ourselves too, from the list of potential careers we could pursue: these ideas are too impractical, too improbable, and sometimes just too "out there".

Money, stability, "prestige", and social conformity all come in the way of us doing what we're truly passionate about; sometimes the barriers that we may face in an unknowable future are set up so early in the process, that we aren't even able to ever properly define and identify our true passion from the fuzzy mess of multiple things that simply excite us.

Recently, this topic has been coming up again and again in conversations I have with disparate groups of people. I've always been interested in cinema and advertising, so most would say that an undergraduate degree in Film and a career in media/marketing would make me a pretty satisfied person. But I still feel like something is missing, like I'm not fulfilling my true potential. Maybe it's just a Gen Y thing, and it's a case of getting bored by everything too quickly. But something tells me my dissatisfaction with my career runs deeper than simple capriciousness.

Something is missing; and as I prepare to graduate from my masters program, into an imploding economy with too little opportunity for too many bright minds, I cannot help but contemplate the ideal future for myself. Funnily enough, when I think about what it is I really want to do - not what will make the most money; what will provide stability over the long-term; what will be the best use of the education I have invested time and money into; what my parents will approve of; or what my high school "friends" who bullied me into my current low self-esteem will be jealous of (alright, that doesn't really weigh in so much, but I do get a kick out of it) - but just what I really want to do in an ideal, perfect world? I come up with these silly, whimsical things. It's like being a child again, imagining the world is your oyster and that you actually deserve everything in it.

So I decided to make a list. This is my list of things I wish I could do if the world would just go away and following your dream was an accepted way of life. It isn't a comprehensive list, but it's a start. And of course there are skills and careers I admire - gymnasts, ice-skaters, swimmers, astronauts, scientists - but these are things I really just want to be.

1. Actress.
2. Film director.
3. Professional dancer.
4. Singer.
5. Author, maybe of children's books.
6. Copywriter. (I tried this path and chickened out.)
7. TV show host. (I tried this path but the TV station went bust.)
8. Radio show host. (I tried this path, with a 12am-1am slot, and I sucked. But I think it was just nerves.)
9. Songwriter. (I tried this path and still write songs with my buddy in NYC who is a singer and musician. It was our dream to release an album but I went to film school and he sold his soul to become an investment banker.)
10. Interior decorator.
11. Photographer.
12. Teacher, maybe high school English or Drama.
13. Cartoonist.
14. Wedding Planner, even though I don't really like weddings anymore, my super organizational skills would work like magic here.
15. Ooh yes, magician. Although ideally I would just be a real witch, not just a person pretending to make coins disappear.
16. Chef, maybe a pastry chef, possibly a cake decorator.
17. The person who gets to name all the crayon and paint colors.
18. Owner of a stationery/arts/crafts shop.
19. Arts and crafts maker, possibly cards, but otherwise a maker of creative, pretty, silly things out of random, useless things.
20. Meteorologist.

Who knows if I'll ever actually do any of these things, maybe I'd like to dabble in them all without actually having a career in any of them. But I'm glad I wrote these down someplace. Maybe something productive will come out of it; maybe the stars will align and some of these dreams might come true; maybe this list will turn into one of those "25 things" memes on Facebook? ;)

In any case, this is my list and I'm proud of it. You should make one too.

Quantifying Creativity

Time spent wondering what to wear to friend's engagement party next month: 2 hours.

Time spent fantasizing about what I'd say to Shahrukh Khan if I met him at a cocktail party: 1 hour.

Time spent working on project for Monday's Creative Thinking class: 0.

Classes shmlasses. I'm plenty creative already. Meh.

Drama Lover

When I'm walking into the wind and my hair is flying dramatically, I find certain songs on my iPod, pretend I'm in a music video, and start mouthing the lyrics and walking down the street with attitude.

What? You know you do too.

Harr lamha, harr pal.

I love this song. Oh A R Rahman. Oh Shreya Ghoshal. Oh Aamir. What a combination.

But seriously, Aamir Khan is a genius. Look at the man's face. Who needs dialogue when you have expressions like that? Crazy.

I hope that if I ever come back from the dead, this song is playing in the background. Sigh.

Enjoy.

2nd Worst Social Occasion Ever.

After my rant about baby showers, I realized that I'm also very sick of weddings. They're never as fun as Bollywood makes them out to be.

Think about it: if you're merely a guest, it's boring to sit at a table with strangers and watch the proceedings from afar. If you're close to the family, you either want to help and no one asks you to, making you feel rebuffed, or they take you for granted and run you to the ground without a word of thanks. If it's your own, you're the stressed-out bride who believes the whole world is out to ruin her life and is never happy with the way things turn out.

The only scenario in which weddings are somewhat entertaining is when they involve your siblings. But even then, inevitably, your parents will ruin it all, like they've always ruined everything else!

From an emotional perspective, I think there's too much pressure at desi weddings, usually of the bad kind. Brides and grooms are so focused on the inconsequential minutiae of the wedding, that they forget to focus on the marriage, which - no matter how much you know or love the other person - is bloody hard work. Who cares if the centerpieces match the exact shade of the bride's eye-shadow? Do you think anyone will notice? Will you really care three years from now when, let's say, you're sweaty and tired from saddling your teething toddler and you wish your husband would help without you having to ask?

Marriage can be wonderful, but it is a serious endeavor. It's a big deal. And its seriousness is lost in the frivolities of pre-wedding, wedding, and post-wedding celebrations, and that frustrates me. And nobody gives the bride and groom a reality check because no one wants to be the killjoy, but are words of wisdom really that lame?

Weddings always leave me very emotionally confused. I enjoy the rituals, but I get easily frustrated when things don't run like clockwork and become weary from the forced merriment of various traditions. I'm happy for the couple, but I worry that they don't know what they're getting into, and have to bite back from interfering in their lives.

That being said, everyone and their uncle seems to be getting married in 2009 and I wanna get married too!

What's that? Oh. I'm already married. Well, yeah, but my wedding was so disappointing. I was the bride who was unhappy with most of the dresses, had NO friends around, had to put up with a lot of distant family members she didn't really like, had too many awkward moments with in-laws, no dancing routines, an unpleasant joota-chupai, a weird nikah ceremony, bad photographs, a day-before-wedding "let's call it off" panic attack... oh yeah, the list is endless. The whole thing was a week of awkwardness and forced merriment from start to finish.

Which is why... I WANT A DO-OVER! :P

It's my half-birthday.

Wish me dammit!

Worst Social Occasion.. Ever

I hate Baby Showers. The whole concept behind them is just weird and uncomfortable and gross. Women make me awkward as it is, so I wouldn't want to be stuck with a whole bunch of them for an entire evening, hearing war stories about how this person's water broke, and how this person was in labor for 12 hours, discussing intimate details about people's bodily functions, and having conversations which include words like placenta, va-jay-jay, and epidural. And I really don't want to play stupid games about "Ooh look who's baby is born first when this creepy plastic baby melts out of the ice cube it has been incarcerated in to simulate a uterus."

OK I'm gonna have a baby (someday), thanks for your good wishes, but it's a very private matter that's for me, my husband and my family, and I don't need metaphoric amniotic fluid in my drinking glasses, thank you very much.

Plus, the baby isn't even born yet, so what's to celebrate? Yes, I'll need lots of gear when the baby arrives, and if you really want to give me gifts to help me out, that's awesome. I'll set up a registry and they can come to me in the mail. I'll even send you a thank you card. But do we really need to have a big estrogen-fueled giggle-bash to give someone a diaper genie?

Of course, I have no aversion to parties, and I certainly don't need an excuse to eat cake - and God knows that pregnant women deserve all the sugar they can lay their hands on.

But baby showers, by definition, are intellectually stupidifying, socially awkward, and only reinforce the indulgent, giggly, feminine, "look-at-me-I'm-special-cos-my-eggs-work" woman stereotype that makes me want to throw up.

My point exactly

Character isn't what we think it is or, rather, what we want it to be. It isn't a stable, easily identifiable set of closely related traits, and it only seems that way because of a glitch in the way our brains are organized. Character is more like a bundle of habits and tendencies and interests, loosely bound together and dependent, at certain times, on circumstance and context.

-Malcolm Gladwell, "The Tipping Point"

A Creation Story

According to Islamic tradition, when Adam and Eve were banished from Paradise to Earth, they landed in separate places. Each wandered the desert plains of Arabia alone for many years, searching for the other, before finally being reunited at the top of a hill. This hill came to be known as Mount Arafat, its name derived from the Arabic word ta'arruf, which means meeting, or, more accurately in this context, meeting place.

I've often wondered what that meeting must have felt like.. what it must have felt like to desperately search for your love and companion in an arid and alien land, while struggling with the guilt and fear that comes with exile, although knowing that having faith in God is the only thing that would bring you through this trial.

Truth be told, the story of Adam and Eve is the story of every man and woman that followed after them. Their struggle is our struggle, their spiritual journey is ours, and it is likely that their marriage foreshadowed the nature of marriage for all of mankind to come.

I've often wondered what that meeting on top of a desert hill must have felt like. Perhaps it went something like this..

*Disclaimer: The following is entirely a work of fiction and isn't meant to offend anyone's sensibilities. Before you label me a heretic, I'd like to say that my devotion to my religion is unquestionably firm, but I also think a little humor never killed anyone. My intention is not to blaspheme, and beyond that, Allah (swt) knows best. If you still have a problem with this, well, tough.*

~Ta'arruf~

Stumbling with fatigue, throat parched with thirst, Eve raised a calloused hand to shield her eyes from the blistering sunlight and gazed into the distance. Was that a moving shadow she just saw, or another trick her eyes were playing on her?

But the hazy blur continued to move in her direction, up the slope of that hill ahead. Could it.. was that.. could it really be him?

It had to be.

With a renewed sense of vigor and purpose, she summoned the last vestiges of her energy and began moving faster, putting one foot after another in the sinking mounds of hot sand, ignoring the hot, searing wind that cut across her face, now determined to reach the top of that hill.

After what seemed like eternity, she had scaled the steep slope and arrived at the summit. And she couldn't believe it but there he was, waiting for him. No longer a mirage, but in the flesh, alive... real. After all this Hell, finally a sliver of Paradise. Her search had not been in vain. He was here. It was real. It was everything she had dreamed it would be. It was...

Adam: Darn it woman, where the heck have you been? Do you have any idea how long I've been looking for you?

Eve: [cold pause] Well. Hello there, Adam. And yes, I'm fine, thanks.

Adam: What's that supposed to mean?

Eve: Gee, Adam, I don't know. Maybe the first thing you'd ask your wife - whom you've been separated from for an unspecified amount of time while you've both been wandering the desert plains of Arabia - was.. "Are you alright?" Or maybe you'd tell her that you loved her, or missed her, or, I don't know, maybe even a "Hey, that's a hot date palm leaf skirt you've got on."

Adam: Hot date palm...? [sighs] Why is it always about sex with you? [pretend Eve voice] "No that's too much! No that's too little! Why is that angel checking you out? Why have you been frolicking in Eden without me?" You're always so paranoid.

Eve: First of all, this has nothing to do with sex, what are you on about? Are you even listening? And I'm paranoid? What about you? If you'd bothered asking someone for directions, we'd probably have managed to find each other ages ago.

Adam: There wasn't anyone to ask, genius, we're the first humans remember?

Eve: Trust you to come up with a clever answer for everything. You never simply try hard enough. If I were you, I'd have found me by now.

Adam: [crosses his arms] You know what, I'm done with this conversation. Forget it.

Eve: Great, here we go again, the famous silent treatment. You have serious issues, Adam. Have you ever considered why you're so averse to confrontation? You can never take constructive criticism. You know what I think? I think..

Adam: Eve, please stop psychoanalyzing me, you suck at it, and I really don't want to hear this right now.

Eve: FINE.

Adam: FINE

[both cross their arms and turn away]

[pause]

Eve: [turning back] Did you try yelling for me? Calling my name? Screaming to the heavens? Did you even miss me at all?

Adam: [rolls his eyes] Of course, I missed you, if I didn't miss you why would I be looking for you?

Eve: [on a roll] Hah. Yeah. I knew it, you didn't miss me for a second, you've never loved me, I knew there was something fishy going on between you and that angel, Satan was right from the start..

Adam: [indignant, but also slightly panic-stricken] What?!

Eve: All that time, I was suspicious, I had my doubts. But I told myself, "Eve, give him his space. Just make sure you're prettier than all the rest." So I bathed in rivers of milk and honey for you, I adorned myself with gold, I always tried to look good for you..

Adam: [beginning to worry] Eve, listen to yourself. You're not making any..

Eve: .. DO YOU EVEN HAVE ANY IDEA HOW ITCHY THIS DATE PALM LEAF SKIRT IS?

Adam: And you look great in it! Like you've lost ten pounds!

Eve: [waving her arms around] Ten? Try fifteen! I'm half my size, my hair's a mess, I'm darker than Satan's ass, I've got sand in places I didn't know I had...

Adam: [grabs Eve's arms] EVE. Get a grip. You know I don't care about those things. You look beautiful. You always do to me.

Eve: [sniffs] Really?

Adam: Really. Those angels ain't got nothin' on ya.

Eve: [giving in] Oh Adam. All this time, I've been praying for you. That God forgives you and that you're safe. I didn't care about what would happen to me, all I wanted was for you to be alright. I went without water for days because I thought you were thirsty too. I didn't sleep, I didn't eat. If I found some fruit, I gathered it up and saved it for you, in case I found you, and you were hungry. See? [shows Adam a handful of fruit]

Adam: [dumbfounded by this selflessness] Eve, I.. I.. don't know what to say. I guess.. I.. I'm dumbfounded by your selflessness.

Eve: Just tell me that you love me. And that we'll be alright.

Adam: [very seriously] I love you. So much. And we'll be alright. I promise. I'll take care of you. Forever.

And so, Adam smiled at Eve and tenderly took her into his arms, all his anger and paranoia forgotten. And Eve clutched on to Adam for dear life, thanking God for having answered her prayers to return him to her safe, and promising to do better in this world; this new and different place that promised equal measures of hardship and joy, that had been created for them, and was now theirs to keep.

And then they had crazy make-up sex and populated the world.

The End!

Xinu Almighty

I have realized that I have a strong need to always have complete knowledge of everything that's going on, but I prefer to keep others on a need-to-know basis.

A bit like God, really.

The Only Yash Raj Related Comment I'll Make In 2009

Mujhe toh kisi mein bhi rab nahin dikhta.

*sob*

Just thought I'd mention it.

Happy New Year

Welcome to the world, 2009.

I admit it: right now, your purity and innocence are quite alluring - and contagious. Like you, I feel myself bubbling with the anticipation of what the future may bring, and I am full of hope and wonder.

Soon, you will bloom with the verdant spring of childhood. I think I'd like to join you in your excitement then: feel like I'm the master of my universe, believe in the endless possibilities of life.

You know, you will continue to grow older, and as you lusciously ripen in golden summer sunshines, I, too, will soak in your warmth and wisdom.

But then, I'm afraid, your lustre will begin to fade with the browning of old age. And from then onwards it will be a slow, but measured, march towards cold, grey, and certain death.

So, I wonder about you 2009. I am weary of not knowing what the future will bring, and I want to link my fate to your seasons because they are changing, but predictable; varied, but immutable. But I fear that I lack your resilience, and may not be able to cope with the birth of fresh hope, and also its death within the same year.

So, perhaps, 2009, we can reach a compromise. Perhaps I will borrow from you your current wide-eyed wonder, and view the world with a fresh perspective. And maybe your spring will bring new hope to me and I will be rejuvenated. And perhaps then I will then be strong enough to walk on my own, and could try to renew this spirit through the blustery autumn and snowy winter of your demise. And then I could join you again next year with greater optimism and cheer? Perhaps. It's a possibility. It's a start.

So, welcome to the world, 2009. I don't doubt that you will bring to me an equal measure of sadness and joy, but I hope you will be a friend to me, and I hope that I can be a good friend to you.

X'mas Cheer

Seen on a Facebook comment by someone I don't know:

"Santa is just an anagram for Satan."

Really? No, really?

And then you wonder why they hate Muslims. Seriously. *eyeroll*