They say that writing is soothing. They who? You know, they that said that time is a healer and also that good things come in small packages. They of proverbial fame.
I have been on edge lately. It is probably PMS. Maybe not but most likely it is. Things annoy me, worry me and put me on edge every time I try to step off said edge. So I thought I would listen to 'them' and write. Write because I have a blog and a keyboard, write because I can string words together and write because I don't need to make sense all the time.
See, I think this right here is the problem. My mother said to me today 'you have raised the bar and set standards' although she said it in another context. Of course what she didn't say was that once the bar is raised then one is compelled to make sure it stays that way. Which brings me back to the problem. In a rather philosophical way the problem is to 'make sense all the time' . I am harsh on myself, with myself and more often than not I believe that it is for myself. What I don't seem to realise is that the harsher I am with myself, the more I am going to rebel against me! Some day I am going to get sick of myself and turn around tell myself to treat me better!
I think that day is fast approaching. Where instead of reprimanding myself for not doing things better I will just say 'hey you are human, **it happens'.
I don't know if what I need is rest or work. I am unsure of whether immersing myself wholeheartedly in a thesis (which only has half hearted interest) will put me back on track or will it be better to get away from it all. Wonder what 'they' have to say about that.
What helps though, to a certain extent is, once again characteristic of me, taking the middle-ground. Immersing myself in a good book. 'immersion ka immersion aur break ka break!'.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
On Sunday I broke my vow to buy only second hand books this year and I an feeling a tad low about it. My sister and I have been feasting on Daphne Du Maurier's books ever since we read Rebecca and unfortunately, barring two novels, that were bought and devoured rapidly, none of the second hand books stores here stock her stuff. So one trip to Borders and I was $50 poorer but armed with 'DDM's Short Stories' and 'The Memory Keeper's Daughter'. The latter I have been wanting to read ever since it was released and after months of waiting for it to hit the 2nd hand stores I finally gave in and just bought it first-hand.
Finished reading it last night and I have this nagging feeling that I did not get my money's worth. I know it is a terrible way to think of a book - I feel unsatisfied about it.
The Down Syndrome angle was underplayed and the main character's actions seemed to lack enough reason. True they tell you that his sister was ill and that it changed his life and his mother's but it is always glanced over without being dealt with in enough depth. In saying that, maybe I just missed it. The book is beautifully written though and uses fantastic imagery. But in themes like this there is always a danger of not doing it full justice - in my case I prefer the abstract to be interspersed with startling revelations. Especially in a book of this volume.
This book was supposed to be about the redemptive power of love, according to the blurb, however to me it seemed to rush through this redemption in the last chapter rather than building it up enough. However, it is not a bad read.
Of course Kim Edwards can write and I am keen to read her other book 'The Secrets of the Fire King' I think it is called.
So tonight I shall make a start on DDM and needless to say her writing leaves me breathless. Bordering on bizarre it is amazing for a woman of her time. Just goes to show that the mind knows no barriers.
The thesis writing is progressing at snail's pace and despite having the thoughts in my head I am having serious trouble putting them into words. Scientific writing is lacklustre, without creativity. On a brighter note, my cousin arrives this weekend and the next month promises to be interesting!
Still, right now I would give anything for a good cup of tea and a rest. Both have taken a beating since I am down with hay-fever.
Finished reading it last night and I have this nagging feeling that I did not get my money's worth. I know it is a terrible way to think of a book - I feel unsatisfied about it.
The Down Syndrome angle was underplayed and the main character's actions seemed to lack enough reason. True they tell you that his sister was ill and that it changed his life and his mother's but it is always glanced over without being dealt with in enough depth. In saying that, maybe I just missed it. The book is beautifully written though and uses fantastic imagery. But in themes like this there is always a danger of not doing it full justice - in my case I prefer the abstract to be interspersed with startling revelations. Especially in a book of this volume.
This book was supposed to be about the redemptive power of love, according to the blurb, however to me it seemed to rush through this redemption in the last chapter rather than building it up enough. However, it is not a bad read.
Of course Kim Edwards can write and I am keen to read her other book 'The Secrets of the Fire King' I think it is called.
So tonight I shall make a start on DDM and needless to say her writing leaves me breathless. Bordering on bizarre it is amazing for a woman of her time. Just goes to show that the mind knows no barriers.
The thesis writing is progressing at snail's pace and despite having the thoughts in my head I am having serious trouble putting them into words. Scientific writing is lacklustre, without creativity. On a brighter note, my cousin arrives this weekend and the next month promises to be interesting!
Still, right now I would give anything for a good cup of tea and a rest. Both have taken a beating since I am down with hay-fever.
Friday, October 17, 2008
I thought long and hard before I wrote this post. It was triggered by some thoughts I had late last week while driving.
I can pinpoint the event that led to my studying Physics as a career. 7th Standard, Physics lesson, learning about how a thermos works. I can also pinpoint the event that led to my studying opto-electronics at university - the day I learned that it was a course taught jointly by Physics and Engineering schools, thus satisfying my personal need to study Physics (and NOT computer science) and satisfying the family by saying that I was doing 'engineering' of a kind that they would not comprehend.
Throughout my school and undergraduate years, even thought the work took its toll and there were times when I passed with flying colours and times when I failed miserably, one thing was constant, consistent - interest, amazement and wonder!
I can recall being fascinated by lasers and light. I can remember the tinge of excitement when I saw the HUGE particle accelerator at the ANU. I can recall with startling detail the thrill of actually watching light bounce off in semi circles through water that was saturated with sugar.
And then something happened that sucked this out of me - I started this PhD.
This very disturbing observation I made when I thought back to my friend and I and the conversations that we used to have. My friend is one of the smartest people I know. His grasp of Physics as a subject exceeds the understanding that most practising academics have! So here was this chap who could simplify complex theories into everyday analogies and of course this led to many a heated discussion. We would spend hours talking about Physics, the simple things, the complex things and of course the dubious things.
I has been over two years since we last talked about anything except how frustrating work is. It has been over a year since we last discussed a truly 'exciting' result of our work. I have myself to blame mostly for this.
Today was an annual celebration to mark the founding day of my workplace. So we sat through numerous, some surprisingly good, presentations. This, of course, is the perfect scenario for the mind to wander and it did.
Over the last three years I have attended several conferences, sat amidst the brilliant Physics minds and heard them spout words of consolation more than anything else. I have also heard a rather alarming amount of rubbish. I have seen how research is converted, if not reduced, to appeal to the masses and how this conversion leads to undeserving people gaining credit for half-baked ideas. I have learned that in today's world a successful academic is one that can appease the grant-givers and industry-men. I have understood that Physicists do NOT discuss the wonders of the world around us as much as they discuss the 'political scenario' that will influence their 'next grant' - over a cup of tea. I have seen that 'influential' academics will push their students regardless of talent and that those willing to be party to this will be duly rewarded.
However, this is a mere digression, it is not something 'new' neither does it warrant thought.
If I get this Phd - it will be my biggest gain and for it I will have paid with my passion. The excitement and wonder of yesteryears will be lost to cynicism and skepticism. Never again will I feel the sheer joy of reading Einstein's original paper on relativity, or the pride of meeting the man that invented the optical fibre. Why? - you ask. Why can't one get out of the rut and still take away a sense of achievement. Simply because it is fake.
There are several days when I feel that the 'thing' that I make at the end of my time here will in no way help a poor starving man in India who pulls a rickshaw in the heat and humidity of Delhi, gets spit on and abused by all and sundry and still does not have enough to feed his family. My work will in no way make those in power realise their follies and change their ways. And just when I am about to sink into the depths of despair I see a light at the end of the corridor.
It is the door. Leading out. And it is my choice to whether to walk out armed with an advanced degree. One that I have spent the last three years for. And right now it seems like the shortest distance between me and the door is through the thesis.
And beyond that I can do something that makes me happy. That gets me excited and fills me with wonder. A wonder that I once felt sitting in a classroom as a 12 year old learning about how a thermos worked.
I can pinpoint the event that led to my studying Physics as a career. 7th Standard, Physics lesson, learning about how a thermos works. I can also pinpoint the event that led to my studying opto-electronics at university - the day I learned that it was a course taught jointly by Physics and Engineering schools, thus satisfying my personal need to study Physics (and NOT computer science) and satisfying the family by saying that I was doing 'engineering' of a kind that they would not comprehend.
Throughout my school and undergraduate years, even thought the work took its toll and there were times when I passed with flying colours and times when I failed miserably, one thing was constant, consistent - interest, amazement and wonder!
I can recall being fascinated by lasers and light. I can remember the tinge of excitement when I saw the HUGE particle accelerator at the ANU. I can recall with startling detail the thrill of actually watching light bounce off in semi circles through water that was saturated with sugar.
And then something happened that sucked this out of me - I started this PhD.
This very disturbing observation I made when I thought back to my friend and I and the conversations that we used to have. My friend is one of the smartest people I know. His grasp of Physics as a subject exceeds the understanding that most practising academics have! So here was this chap who could simplify complex theories into everyday analogies and of course this led to many a heated discussion. We would spend hours talking about Physics, the simple things, the complex things and of course the dubious things.
I has been over two years since we last talked about anything except how frustrating work is. It has been over a year since we last discussed a truly 'exciting' result of our work. I have myself to blame mostly for this.
Today was an annual celebration to mark the founding day of my workplace. So we sat through numerous, some surprisingly good, presentations. This, of course, is the perfect scenario for the mind to wander and it did.
Over the last three years I have attended several conferences, sat amidst the brilliant Physics minds and heard them spout words of consolation more than anything else. I have also heard a rather alarming amount of rubbish. I have seen how research is converted, if not reduced, to appeal to the masses and how this conversion leads to undeserving people gaining credit for half-baked ideas. I have learned that in today's world a successful academic is one that can appease the grant-givers and industry-men. I have understood that Physicists do NOT discuss the wonders of the world around us as much as they discuss the 'political scenario' that will influence their 'next grant' - over a cup of tea. I have seen that 'influential' academics will push their students regardless of talent and that those willing to be party to this will be duly rewarded.
However, this is a mere digression, it is not something 'new' neither does it warrant thought.
If I get this Phd - it will be my biggest gain and for it I will have paid with my passion. The excitement and wonder of yesteryears will be lost to cynicism and skepticism. Never again will I feel the sheer joy of reading Einstein's original paper on relativity, or the pride of meeting the man that invented the optical fibre. Why? - you ask. Why can't one get out of the rut and still take away a sense of achievement. Simply because it is fake.
There are several days when I feel that the 'thing' that I make at the end of my time here will in no way help a poor starving man in India who pulls a rickshaw in the heat and humidity of Delhi, gets spit on and abused by all and sundry and still does not have enough to feed his family. My work will in no way make those in power realise their follies and change their ways. And just when I am about to sink into the depths of despair I see a light at the end of the corridor.
It is the door. Leading out. And it is my choice to whether to walk out armed with an advanced degree. One that I have spent the last three years for. And right now it seems like the shortest distance between me and the door is through the thesis.
And beyond that I can do something that makes me happy. That gets me excited and fills me with wonder. A wonder that I once felt sitting in a classroom as a 12 year old learning about how a thermos worked.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
- Is it me or have clothes sizes changed drastically in the last three years? My sister and I went to the mall last weekend as I had to buy a pair of jeans. Now, people that know me know that I always need jeans and people that know me better know that I never find them! So we were checking out the usual stores as well as the unusual ones and chanced upon this lovely pair of Bardot jeans. So, as is the norm, I picked up a size 8 (about 1.5 for you Americans!) and proceeded to the changing rooms. Now I am not sure what happened between me picking up the jeans and putting them on. Did the act of touching them shrink them? The size 8s climbed half way and then stopped!
So I tried on the size 10s - same story. Now I know that I have not put on weight since I was last a size 8. Heck I have been a size 8 all my adult life and don't intend to change that! I left the store grumbling and then my fashion savvy sister informed me that since anorexia nervosa became the in thing size 6 is the new size 8 and size 8 is the new size 800! At this rate I will be shopping at the 'for large women' store pretty soon!
Sunday also saw me at the Indian store picking up a packet of MDH T-Masala. Fantastic stuff this! Imagine masala chai at work! Also, Drona was watched over the weekend amidst coughing and sneezing fits. Terrible movie which had the potential to be passable.
In other happenings I have passed up a trip to the US of A. I never thought I would say this but thesis writing has taken priority to say nothing of the fact that I would have to leave tomorrow if I do decide to go!
So in the blah di dah nature of things let us find solace in the simple pleasures that Canberra life offers, like when you walk along the parking lot and a bird does not swoop and attack you, or the fact that in spite of the creepy crawlies infesting your courtyard one has not crawled up your nose or into your ear and how you did not get lost on Canberra roads yesterday - Amen!
So I tried on the size 10s - same story. Now I know that I have not put on weight since I was last a size 8. Heck I have been a size 8 all my adult life and don't intend to change that! I left the store grumbling and then my fashion savvy sister informed me that since anorexia nervosa became the in thing size 6 is the new size 8 and size 8 is the new size 800! At this rate I will be shopping at the 'for large women' store pretty soon!
Sunday also saw me at the Indian store picking up a packet of MDH T-Masala. Fantastic stuff this! Imagine masala chai at work! Also, Drona was watched over the weekend amidst coughing and sneezing fits. Terrible movie which had the potential to be passable.
In other happenings I have passed up a trip to the US of A. I never thought I would say this but thesis writing has taken priority to say nothing of the fact that I would have to leave tomorrow if I do decide to go!
So in the blah di dah nature of things let us find solace in the simple pleasures that Canberra life offers, like when you walk along the parking lot and a bird does not swoop and attack you, or the fact that in spite of the creepy crawlies infesting your courtyard one has not crawled up your nose or into your ear and how you did not get lost on Canberra roads yesterday - Amen!
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
The long weekend and a gender rant
Yesterday was Labour Day here Down Under and it was a long weekend. Now long weekends are a very rare occurance in this part of the world and so one duly warrants celebration. For me 'celebration' constituted doing nothing at all. Well not 'nothing' entirely or I would not be writing this post:
1. 'A Wednesday' was watched on Saturday. I was blown away by Naseerudin Shah's acting, as was everyone else that watched the film. I was also blown away by the pace and the simplicity of it. By the wonderful predictability. By the fact that the 'final speech' made me think 'Yes! That's it exactly, you tell them!' and finally I was blown away by the last line 'log naam mein mazhab dhoondh lete hai'. So true, so very true. And in this day and age, so appropriate. We live in dangerous times, in times where our name could be held against us, let alone our religion and our beliefs.
2. There is a Harry Potter game out for Wii! Yippee! So it has been decided by mass consensus that the game shall be purchased, it is just a matter of speaking with the expert and sorting out the whens and hows.
3. I was stitching a pair of pants last night when a thought struck me (No I am not skilled enough to actually stitch myself a pair of pants, I bought pants that were a tad too long and so I was just hemming the bottom). I know people who do not know how to stitch a button onto a shirt. Boys and girls, men and women my age, who think that it is either below their dignity or a waste of time to learn how to stitch back a broken button. I am not sure if it is a 'status' thing with my generation. Just as cooking, cleaning, draping a saree or a dhoti or reciting a mantra/prayer is considered to reduce your 'coolness' factor. I disagree. Just as I disagree that only women should know how to sew, or knit or darn or cook.
My parents have not brought me up as a girl - or a boy for that matter. We were not thought to think like a person of a gender, we were just taught to think! Just as we were taught that if your shirt has lost a button, stitch another one on. If you are hungry, learn to cook a few basic things. If you buy a car, learn to fill fuel in it!
I cannot understand that modern mindset of girls and boys who choose to be girls and boys or men and women. Girls that take pride is being treated 'like boys' -what does this mean exactly? Maybe tasks like stitching or cooking or cleaning were considered to be for women when women did nothing else. Even today if I was married or lived at home and did nothing but sit home all day I would consider it but practical to cook, clean the house and do the chores. It saves time and makes sense. Just as my husband or father or brother would do if they were without a job and were at home. I do not consider it womanly or unmanly to stitch a button just as I don't find it manly to climb onto a chair and cut the bushes on the porch fence! To me it is a matter of survival and practicality. I am proud that I can drape a saree albeit not very well, I am proud that I can mend my own clothes and that I can cook a decent meal. Just as I am proud that I can fix broken cupboards and cut down overgrown bushes.
I just hope that I someday I can pass on this upbringing to a fellow human being - the idea that we can all be just people, humans with genderless brains, genderless ideas and thoughts.
1. 'A Wednesday' was watched on Saturday. I was blown away by Naseerudin Shah's acting, as was everyone else that watched the film. I was also blown away by the pace and the simplicity of it. By the wonderful predictability. By the fact that the 'final speech' made me think 'Yes! That's it exactly, you tell them!' and finally I was blown away by the last line 'log naam mein mazhab dhoondh lete hai'. So true, so very true. And in this day and age, so appropriate. We live in dangerous times, in times where our name could be held against us, let alone our religion and our beliefs.
2. There is a Harry Potter game out for Wii! Yippee! So it has been decided by mass consensus that the game shall be purchased, it is just a matter of speaking with the expert and sorting out the whens and hows.
3. I was stitching a pair of pants last night when a thought struck me (No I am not skilled enough to actually stitch myself a pair of pants, I bought pants that were a tad too long and so I was just hemming the bottom). I know people who do not know how to stitch a button onto a shirt. Boys and girls, men and women my age, who think that it is either below their dignity or a waste of time to learn how to stitch back a broken button. I am not sure if it is a 'status' thing with my generation. Just as cooking, cleaning, draping a saree or a dhoti or reciting a mantra/prayer is considered to reduce your 'coolness' factor. I disagree. Just as I disagree that only women should know how to sew, or knit or darn or cook.
My parents have not brought me up as a girl - or a boy for that matter. We were not thought to think like a person of a gender, we were just taught to think! Just as we were taught that if your shirt has lost a button, stitch another one on. If you are hungry, learn to cook a few basic things. If you buy a car, learn to fill fuel in it!
I cannot understand that modern mindset of girls and boys who choose to be girls and boys or men and women. Girls that take pride is being treated 'like boys' -what does this mean exactly? Maybe tasks like stitching or cooking or cleaning were considered to be for women when women did nothing else. Even today if I was married or lived at home and did nothing but sit home all day I would consider it but practical to cook, clean the house and do the chores. It saves time and makes sense. Just as my husband or father or brother would do if they were without a job and were at home. I do not consider it womanly or unmanly to stitch a button just as I don't find it manly to climb onto a chair and cut the bushes on the porch fence! To me it is a matter of survival and practicality. I am proud that I can drape a saree albeit not very well, I am proud that I can mend my own clothes and that I can cook a decent meal. Just as I am proud that I can fix broken cupboards and cut down overgrown bushes.
I just hope that I someday I can pass on this upbringing to a fellow human being - the idea that we can all be just people, humans with genderless brains, genderless ideas and thoughts.
Friday, October 03, 2008
The songs my children will sing
When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, what will I be
She said I can be whatever I like
'Just don't live off your dad and me'
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
There's money in the bank, you see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
He looked scared and ran away
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
madness runs in the family
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
Now I have no children of my own
to ask their mother, what will I be
Good thing is that I'm not around
to bring them up poorly.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
this is an epiphany!
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
*Copyright Amrita Prasad
I asked my mother, what will I be
She said I can be whatever I like
'Just don't live off your dad and me'
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
There's money in the bank, you see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
When I was young, I fell in love
I asked my sweetheart what lies ahead
Will we have rainbows, day after day
He looked scared and ran away
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
madness runs in the family
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
Now I have no children of my own
to ask their mother, what will I be
Good thing is that I'm not around
to bring them up poorly.
Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
this is an epiphany!
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.
*Copyright Amrita Prasad
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Fashion and I
Some blogs I have been reading of late talked about fashion sense and the lack thereof. So I thought of including my two cents worth on the subject.
My earliest memories of 'fashion' are of trying on my mother's old, discarded pair of stillettoes and trying to walk in them. My sister and I had come across them in an old cupboard full of shoes and I was fascinated by them. My mom had long since 'graduated' to more sombre footwear but tell a child of less than ten that she cannot walk in high heels and she will more than try to prove you wrontg! However there were no long lasting side effects of this endeavor.
Most of my childhood my sister and I were dressed by our mother and her no-nonsense style meant that we sported clean, fitting clothes and short easy-to-manage hair.
Perhaps the next most momorable phase was the black and grey phase. Of course these were always coupled with jeans (As an aside: denim is the material that jeans are made of. So its either 'denim pants', if you must, or jeans NOT 'jeans pants'!).
So all through university I was 'bogged down' by the grey tee shirts, usually with adidas, nike or some such validation, jeans and sneakers. After moving to Canberra everyone expected the rapid decline of fashion tastes, what with being a Physics PhD student surrounded by jandals and shorts. However my fashion sense has picked up and I now not only own other colours (red even!) I wear them with pride and joy and today I'm even wearing earrings!
See, jewellery has never figured big on my fashion list. I like jewellery, don't get me wrong. I love the understated elegance of a single solitaire sparkling at the nape of my neck or the feel of a beautiful ring on my fingers, but over the years I seem to have stopped wearing or buying earrings.
Maybe it has something to do with the ear-piercing trauma as a child. You see my grandparents took me to the 'family ear piercer' while my folks were away overseas and, even though this is a blur now, I distinctly remember a big nail, some forceps-hammer like apparatus and a wooden block. Of course I also remember the devil himself but that is other news. Nope, no gun-shot, over in a minute for me. It was the whole nine yards. I remember pain, a lot of it, blood and me running away after one earlobe was pierced, to hide under the bed. Anyway so somehow the process was completed and I had two gold earrings shoved into my ears. I think I wore gold earrings in some form or another throughout my childhood and school years. Then we moved overseas and other matters gained importance, so over the years I have weaned off earrings altogether. Megz gave me beautiful handmade earrings when I moved out of Auckland, and to this day I depend on them for formal/fancy wear.
At my cousin's wedding last year, I realised with horror that my left ear lobe piercing is slowly closing up. Yes! Which brought back the piercing-horror afresh and so, as of yesterday, I went and bought three studs, brown, blue and black and unceremoniously pushed them through what is left of the piercing. Here's hoping that I never have to get my ear pierced again. Amen!
Next fashion post will be on shoes, handbags and scarves! - I feel so very *insert name of fashion magazine* ish today!
My earliest memories of 'fashion' are of trying on my mother's old, discarded pair of stillettoes and trying to walk in them. My sister and I had come across them in an old cupboard full of shoes and I was fascinated by them. My mom had long since 'graduated' to more sombre footwear but tell a child of less than ten that she cannot walk in high heels and she will more than try to prove you wrontg! However there were no long lasting side effects of this endeavor.
Most of my childhood my sister and I were dressed by our mother and her no-nonsense style meant that we sported clean, fitting clothes and short easy-to-manage hair.
Perhaps the next most momorable phase was the black and grey phase. Of course these were always coupled with jeans (As an aside: denim is the material that jeans are made of. So its either 'denim pants', if you must, or jeans NOT 'jeans pants'!).
So all through university I was 'bogged down' by the grey tee shirts, usually with adidas, nike or some such validation, jeans and sneakers. After moving to Canberra everyone expected the rapid decline of fashion tastes, what with being a Physics PhD student surrounded by jandals and shorts. However my fashion sense has picked up and I now not only own other colours (red even!) I wear them with pride and joy and today I'm even wearing earrings!
See, jewellery has never figured big on my fashion list. I like jewellery, don't get me wrong. I love the understated elegance of a single solitaire sparkling at the nape of my neck or the feel of a beautiful ring on my fingers, but over the years I seem to have stopped wearing or buying earrings.
Maybe it has something to do with the ear-piercing trauma as a child. You see my grandparents took me to the 'family ear piercer' while my folks were away overseas and, even though this is a blur now, I distinctly remember a big nail, some forceps-hammer like apparatus and a wooden block. Of course I also remember the devil himself but that is other news. Nope, no gun-shot, over in a minute for me. It was the whole nine yards. I remember pain, a lot of it, blood and me running away after one earlobe was pierced, to hide under the bed. Anyway so somehow the process was completed and I had two gold earrings shoved into my ears. I think I wore gold earrings in some form or another throughout my childhood and school years. Then we moved overseas and other matters gained importance, so over the years I have weaned off earrings altogether. Megz gave me beautiful handmade earrings when I moved out of Auckland, and to this day I depend on them for formal/fancy wear.
At my cousin's wedding last year, I realised with horror that my left ear lobe piercing is slowly closing up. Yes! Which brought back the piercing-horror afresh and so, as of yesterday, I went and bought three studs, brown, blue and black and unceremoniously pushed them through what is left of the piercing. Here's hoping that I never have to get my ear pierced again. Amen!
Next fashion post will be on shoes, handbags and scarves! - I feel so very *insert name of fashion magazine* ish today!
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
...
I have three lives. And sometimes the boundaries between them blur. Sometimes when I am in that semiconscious state between sleep and wakefulness, sometimes in the early mornings or very late at night thoughts drift in, of friends, smells, festivals, people and events. Sometimes I have to make a conscious effort and recall which life these are a part of.
Opening all the doors as the rain beats down on the warm earth and watching people run helter skelter for cover, lazy afternoons sitting in my room with the angled roof and reading while the rest of the household slept, waking up late on Sundays and making a big lunch and only eating it at 3 pm! All these are but fragments of memories now. Some from my life as a kid growing in in ITI colony, others of living in our house in Jayanagar with my grandparents, yet others of home in New Zealand, our first real home and the last few of my three years as a grad student in Canberra.
There are times when all these memories become one, the friends merge and at times I start talking about one to another and then stop myself realising that one doesn't know the other. They are parts of separate lives.
Summer is slowly approaching bringing with it floods of summer memories. Each from a different life - each one just as special and real.
Opening all the doors as the rain beats down on the warm earth and watching people run helter skelter for cover, lazy afternoons sitting in my room with the angled roof and reading while the rest of the household slept, waking up late on Sundays and making a big lunch and only eating it at 3 pm! All these are but fragments of memories now. Some from my life as a kid growing in in ITI colony, others of living in our house in Jayanagar with my grandparents, yet others of home in New Zealand, our first real home and the last few of my three years as a grad student in Canberra.
There are times when all these memories become one, the friends merge and at times I start talking about one to another and then stop myself realising that one doesn't know the other. They are parts of separate lives.
Summer is slowly approaching bringing with it floods of summer memories. Each from a different life - each one just as special and real.
'Last night I dreamt I went to Manderlay again'
Full fledged thesis writing has been happening of late. Unfortunately this kills any creative outbursts and hence the blog has suffered.
Last night I read Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. I remember back in school, girls would 'book' this book weeks in advance. The tyrant librarian meted out special treatment to her favourites and since my class was not big on showering her with presents, we got step-daughterly treatment. Turns out I never managed to get my hands on this book at school and it was soon forgotten amidst things to do, places to be and people to see.
So a few weeks ago, I was browsing the stalls during university Market day (I have kept to buying second hand books so far!) and spotted a lovely, hard-bound, copy of this book. So I picked it up along with books by Bach and Roald Dahl.
The opening line is, of course, one of the most memorable in Literature and this book has gained its share of fame as it was made into a movie by Alfred Hitchcock. The book is lovely. It has excellent pace and is riveting in parts. Throughout the book there is an air of mystery and, unlike several others that read and reviewed the book, I liked the end.
So go read when you get a chance.
Last night I read Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. I remember back in school, girls would 'book' this book weeks in advance. The tyrant librarian meted out special treatment to her favourites and since my class was not big on showering her with presents, we got step-daughterly treatment. Turns out I never managed to get my hands on this book at school and it was soon forgotten amidst things to do, places to be and people to see.
So a few weeks ago, I was browsing the stalls during university Market day (I have kept to buying second hand books so far!) and spotted a lovely, hard-bound, copy of this book. So I picked it up along with books by Bach and Roald Dahl.
The opening line is, of course, one of the most memorable in Literature and this book has gained its share of fame as it was made into a movie by Alfred Hitchcock. The book is lovely. It has excellent pace and is riveting in parts. Throughout the book there is an air of mystery and, unlike several others that read and reviewed the book, I liked the end.
So go read when you get a chance.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Blogging award!
Needless to say I am totally overwhelmed. Hers was one of the first blogs that I started reading regularly and I love it for the candid and hilarious approach to life. It keeps me in touch with her and her life even though we are oceans apart (just like mine does for her). And of course above all I love her and the blog for she is my Soul Sista!
So in keeping with blogging tradition I want to pass on this award to the following people: All amazing in their own right.
1. Vatsa (Equivocal Planters): I am not sure if I arm-twisted her into starting a blog but what a journey it has been. Writing about her scalpel weilding adventures to the everyday life of a doc in the making. Her blog now has the MOTH as part of it and she also dedicated a lovely post to me on my 21st birthday! Thanks girl for all the fun and games and here's to more good times!
2. Megha: A very very worthy recipient of this award (Ashanka sent this award her way too!). Her blog gives a unique insight to her state of mind with every post and of course the awesome travelogues!
3. Bhavya: A relatively new blogger with a lot of potential. This award is being sent your way to nudge you into posting more often girl! Love your writing thus far!
4. Amruta: My namesake, who for some reason rarely blogs now! Girl, you have a wonderfully fresh writing style so do keep us up to date with your adventures!
5. Athena: This is my mother. And I am awarding her for two reasons: (1) Learning to create and write a blog all on her own! (2) Keeping up with posting as best she can with one arm in a sling and out of action. Keep it up Ma!
Thanks again Ashanka!
Now all you awarded people: Go ahead and send off this award to those you think deserve it and (maybe) link back to my blog.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Favourite literary characters - Tag!
Thanks Vatsa for tagging me with this one. I was waiting eagerly for this tag to come my way :-D.
So without further ado, my 10 favourite literary characters, of course this is neither an absolute nor a complete list and is not in any particular order.
1. Jeeves (and by extension Bertie Wooster) : My initiation into a different class of writing altogether! Hours have been spent in blissful happiness in the absolutely wild world of Jeeves and Bertie.
2. Hercule Poirot: This character needs no description or validation from me. His brilliance and his laconic presence is enough to endear him to the hearts of many! To say nothing of that egg shaped head!
3. Atticus Finch: For all the reasons stated by Vatsa
4. Elizabeth (Pride and Prejudice): I actually did not want to put this in because it is such a darned cliche but on second thought I did include her because she is one of the few in 'those days' that embodied the strength and independence that I see in myself.
5. Hannibal Lecter: An unusual choice, however (if we decide to ignore the cannibalism) he is sheer class. Heck he can make cannibalism seem classy!
6. Heidi: Vatsa I don't know if you remember but I went dressed as Heidi for literary week at AGGS all those years ago. I think this little girl portrayed strength without seeming precocious and for that I love her!
8. Matthew Cuthbert (Anne of Green Gables) : The only book that made me break down and cry. Matthew was the image of every man. Scared of emotions, yet confused by the love and warmth he felt towards little Anne.
9. This list would not be complete without listing all the Enid Blyton kids: George, Anne, Dick, Julian, Fatty, the Seven - for many an afternoon spent imagining oneself out on the countryside sipping orangeade and eating buns.
10. The reluctant Messiah ' Illusions': This book is ostensibly about Bach himself and the story is so beautifully told that one cannot help but become a part of the journey.
I pass on the tag to Megz, Bhavya and Ashanka. Would love to read your lists.
So without further ado, my 10 favourite literary characters, of course this is neither an absolute nor a complete list and is not in any particular order.
1. Jeeves (and by extension Bertie Wooster) : My initiation into a different class of writing altogether! Hours have been spent in blissful happiness in the absolutely wild world of Jeeves and Bertie.
2. Hercule Poirot: This character needs no description or validation from me. His brilliance and his laconic presence is enough to endear him to the hearts of many! To say nothing of that egg shaped head!
3. Atticus Finch: For all the reasons stated by Vatsa
4. Elizabeth (Pride and Prejudice): I actually did not want to put this in because it is such a darned cliche but on second thought I did include her because she is one of the few in 'those days' that embodied the strength and independence that I see in myself.
5. Hannibal Lecter: An unusual choice, however (if we decide to ignore the cannibalism) he is sheer class. Heck he can make cannibalism seem classy!
6. Heidi: Vatsa I don't know if you remember but I went dressed as Heidi for literary week at AGGS all those years ago. I think this little girl portrayed strength without seeming precocious and for that I love her!
8. Matthew Cuthbert (Anne of Green Gables) : The only book that made me break down and cry. Matthew was the image of every man. Scared of emotions, yet confused by the love and warmth he felt towards little Anne.
9. This list would not be complete without listing all the Enid Blyton kids: George, Anne, Dick, Julian, Fatty, the Seven - for many an afternoon spent imagining oneself out on the countryside sipping orangeade and eating buns.
10. The reluctant Messiah ' Illusions': This book is ostensibly about Bach himself and the story is so beautifully told that one cannot help but become a part of the journey.
I pass on the tag to Megz, Bhavya and Ashanka. Would love to read your lists.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Tales
Thank you for keeping us in your prayers (following on from the previous post). With your blessings we have completed Resident Evil -4 and future pursuits await. Maybe Final Fantasy.
At final count the saving statistics showed that it had taken us over 50 hours to complete Five chapters of the game.
As we move on to other obsessions I have found out that Amitabh Bachchan and Aamir Khan have started blogs of their very own, to give us little people an insight into their lives.
Now the cynic in me is tempted to believe that it is a major publicity stunt with some poor writer type forced to churn out entries that sound believable like 'the tour was such a success I'm overwhelmed' etc etc. On the other hand if it is employment for the poor writer type then why not?
In other news, another exciting weekend came to an end on Sunday night. Saturday being the BILs birthday we got a nice big fat chocolate mud cake as dessert to top off a home cooked meal of mirchi ka salan and biryani. Dinner time saw us at Kingsley's Steak and Crabhouse to tantalise the taste buds with some steak. Fish, crab cakes, chilli prawns, potato mash and steak were duly tried and polished off at an alarming rate in total silence and total bliss.
There should be a law that states that it absolutely cannot get cold once it has taken a turn for the warm. And there should be another law that states that my girlfriends cannot leave Canberra. K leaves tomorrow, embarking on the Oxford PhD dream and we all wish her love and luck.
For me it is netball tonight, pide dinner, driving sister to dance school meeting, picking up sister from dance school meeting, writing thesis and hopefully hopefully getting some rest.
Adios!
At final count the saving statistics showed that it had taken us over 50 hours to complete Five chapters of the game.
As we move on to other obsessions I have found out that Amitabh Bachchan and Aamir Khan have started blogs of their very own, to give us little people an insight into their lives.
Now the cynic in me is tempted to believe that it is a major publicity stunt with some poor writer type forced to churn out entries that sound believable like 'the tour was such a success I'm overwhelmed' etc etc. On the other hand if it is employment for the poor writer type then why not?
In other news, another exciting weekend came to an end on Sunday night. Saturday being the BILs birthday we got a nice big fat chocolate mud cake as dessert to top off a home cooked meal of mirchi ka salan and biryani. Dinner time saw us at Kingsley's Steak and Crabhouse to tantalise the taste buds with some steak. Fish, crab cakes, chilli prawns, potato mash and steak were duly tried and polished off at an alarming rate in total silence and total bliss.
There should be a law that states that it absolutely cannot get cold once it has taken a turn for the warm. And there should be another law that states that my girlfriends cannot leave Canberra. K leaves tomorrow, embarking on the Oxford PhD dream and we all wish her love and luck.
For me it is netball tonight, pide dinner, driving sister to dance school meeting, picking up sister from dance school meeting, writing thesis and hopefully hopefully getting some rest.
Adios!
Monday, September 01, 2008
The one where we talk about the weekend in longing hindsight
I noticed that a lot of blogs I read seem to have titles inspired by FRIENDS type 'the one where...' and so to keep up, here's mine.
'Twas ANU open day on saturday and with a knack for getting roped into these things that only I have, I was there bright at early at 8.30 on a cold morning, setting up optics type things for school type students. On the recent radio interview I was asked why I do outreach activities?
After taking more than a moment to think about it I had to say that because things that I did/read/saw as a youngster have influenced my choices and decisions to this day. I studied physics because I was influenced by my 7th Std physics teacher who loved me and taught us very enthusiastically about how a thermos kept hot things hot and cold things cold. I thought it was bloody brilliant! Simple and brilliant!
I studied optics because I was, and still am, fascinated by light (which is strange because electromagnetism is the only subject I failed).
So I wholeheartedly threw myself into outreach at university because I love talking to people, talking to strangers and telling them to care about things. See, I care about a lot of things. And I fail to understand/connect with people that don't. Caring about things does not necessarily mean doing something to fix it (if it needs fixing). It means wondering about it, learning about it or even just talking about it. I cannot understand people that go about life like everything and everyone is beyond their control. But that rant for another day.
So, outreach... I like being able to tell people that even on a bad day, I care about my work. I like the candidness with which I can approach students and tell them that although research is difficult and not always fulfilling, it's great because you have freedom. You get to rub shoulders with giants in your field and they talk to you as if you have potential.
But for the most part I love outreach because I remember the first time I actually understood something. That lesson about the thermos and how it worked - it is my first memory of actual understanding. Not just listening and filing away, or rote learning to reproduce during exams, but actual understanding. Like the pieces of a jigsaw fitting in my head. To be able to impart an understanding, no matter how minuscule, to another person and to get them excited about something is indeed really gratifying.
Of course the publicity, freebies, articles in journals and interviews that follow are also great, but they are few and far between.
So saturday I slaved all day (between meal breaks, tea breaks, mini meal breaks and pizza and drinks after) but managed to catch up with Mayu (who I last saw in Dec, and who is making a habit of these whirlwind trips that I'm not happy about one bit!). Sunday saw the three of us breaking our heads and aching fingers over Resident Evil.
Have any of you seen the FRIENDS episode where Joey is meant to host 'Bamboozle'? and he gets Ross and Chandler to play and at the end when Chandler gets bamboozled he holds his head in exasperation and exclaims 'this is the best game ever!' - nothing could echo our sentiments better. Cracking RE is not just about who wins anymore, it is a team effort. It is aching hands and sore eyes, it is cups of tea to stay awake and yelling and screaming till we are hoarse about what to do and to look 'behind you'. It is pondering endlessly over clues and what to do next, what weapons to by, whether to buy the map or not. It is hysterical screaming when the giant was killed to hopelessness at not being able to kill the chainsaw-wielding women. It is late night phone calls to say that 'I've killed the chain saw woman' and 'Don't play the next stage before I come!!'. Most of all it has been an exercise in obsession like I have never known, since I last saw my father and uncles come together to crack Top Gun some fifteen years ago!
Thus passed a blissful weekend and keep us in your prayers as we tackle Episode 2, Chapter 3 - tonight!
'Twas ANU open day on saturday and with a knack for getting roped into these things that only I have, I was there bright at early at 8.30 on a cold morning, setting up optics type things for school type students. On the recent radio interview I was asked why I do outreach activities?
After taking more than a moment to think about it I had to say that because things that I did/read/saw as a youngster have influenced my choices and decisions to this day. I studied physics because I was influenced by my 7th Std physics teacher who loved me and taught us very enthusiastically about how a thermos kept hot things hot and cold things cold. I thought it was bloody brilliant! Simple and brilliant!
I studied optics because I was, and still am, fascinated by light (which is strange because electromagnetism is the only subject I failed).
So I wholeheartedly threw myself into outreach at university because I love talking to people, talking to strangers and telling them to care about things. See, I care about a lot of things. And I fail to understand/connect with people that don't. Caring about things does not necessarily mean doing something to fix it (if it needs fixing). It means wondering about it, learning about it or even just talking about it. I cannot understand people that go about life like everything and everyone is beyond their control. But that rant for another day.
So, outreach... I like being able to tell people that even on a bad day, I care about my work. I like the candidness with which I can approach students and tell them that although research is difficult and not always fulfilling, it's great because you have freedom. You get to rub shoulders with giants in your field and they talk to you as if you have potential.
But for the most part I love outreach because I remember the first time I actually understood something. That lesson about the thermos and how it worked - it is my first memory of actual understanding. Not just listening and filing away, or rote learning to reproduce during exams, but actual understanding. Like the pieces of a jigsaw fitting in my head. To be able to impart an understanding, no matter how minuscule, to another person and to get them excited about something is indeed really gratifying.
Of course the publicity, freebies, articles in journals and interviews that follow are also great, but they are few and far between.
So saturday I slaved all day (between meal breaks, tea breaks, mini meal breaks and pizza and drinks after) but managed to catch up with Mayu (who I last saw in Dec, and who is making a habit of these whirlwind trips that I'm not happy about one bit!). Sunday saw the three of us breaking our heads and aching fingers over Resident Evil.
Have any of you seen the FRIENDS episode where Joey is meant to host 'Bamboozle'? and he gets Ross and Chandler to play and at the end when Chandler gets bamboozled he holds his head in exasperation and exclaims 'this is the best game ever!' - nothing could echo our sentiments better. Cracking RE is not just about who wins anymore, it is a team effort. It is aching hands and sore eyes, it is cups of tea to stay awake and yelling and screaming till we are hoarse about what to do and to look 'behind you'. It is pondering endlessly over clues and what to do next, what weapons to by, whether to buy the map or not. It is hysterical screaming when the giant was killed to hopelessness at not being able to kill the chainsaw-wielding women. It is late night phone calls to say that 'I've killed the chain saw woman' and 'Don't play the next stage before I come!!'. Most of all it has been an exercise in obsession like I have never known, since I last saw my father and uncles come together to crack Top Gun some fifteen years ago!
Thus passed a blissful weekend and keep us in your prayers as we tackle Episode 2, Chapter 3 - tonight!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
...
Sometimes I think back and wonder what would have happened if I had taken another path. None of this laser science business, art and words instead. I heard a talk the other day about parallel universes and how the theory is that there are infinite parallel universes and you have explored every choice in some universe. I wonder whether I am the same age in all universes. I wonder how the Amrita with an Art History major is doing. Is she sleeping wrapped in newspaper in New York because she cannot afford a house or is she rubbing shoulders with the Elite and valuing art works at Sotheby's, sipping champagne and eating caviar (that she has developed a taste for, having hung out with the aforementioned elite). Sometimes I wonder what would happen if I chuck it all and start over. Sometimes I am tempted, very tempted. And then (good?) sense prevails and I think I should finish what I started.
On another note, I slept in my bed yesterday as opposed to the couch. It is getting warmer and so I can manage with the dysfunctional heater and turns out beds are the best for sleeping! After several weeks I had a good night's rest and did not wake up in a murderous rage. Isn't it just the worst feeling waking up with aching limbs, runny nose and a headache.
The plans tonight are to eat Ethiopian food and play Mario Kart. Yippekayay!
On another note, I slept in my bed yesterday as opposed to the couch. It is getting warmer and so I can manage with the dysfunctional heater and turns out beds are the best for sleeping! After several weeks I had a good night's rest and did not wake up in a murderous rage. Isn't it just the worst feeling waking up with aching limbs, runny nose and a headache.
The plans tonight are to eat Ethiopian food and play Mario Kart. Yippekayay!
Monday, August 25, 2008
Fame and the mundane
The radio gig is done and needless to say it was a very exciting experience. The guy interviewing me really knew his stuff and even made me think on my feet with a few questions about a single photon source developed at the Univ. of Melbourne.
The podcast of the competition speech has been released and when I listened to myself - I sound like a ten year old! Anyhow, the weekend passed by in a blur and I can barely remember when Friday ended and Monday began. I feel like going home, curling up on the couch with a mug of hot something and either watching TV all day long or reading a book. Such thoughts are natural on a murky cloudy day but what warrants such thoughts when the sun is out - I do not know.
A ton of things have been done and a ton more await however I take solace in the fact that one way or another this PhD will be out of my hands, this time next year. Whether 'done and dusted' or 'tried and failed' is yet to be seen.
Why this positivity? Well I'm sleepy. Sleep deprived. Yawning. Want to go to bed. Eyelids 'a droopin. But I have yet to go sort out the electricity bill so, everybody, we're back to the mundane!
The podcast of the competition speech has been released and when I listened to myself - I sound like a ten year old! Anyhow, the weekend passed by in a blur and I can barely remember when Friday ended and Monday began. I feel like going home, curling up on the couch with a mug of hot something and either watching TV all day long or reading a book. Such thoughts are natural on a murky cloudy day but what warrants such thoughts when the sun is out - I do not know.
A ton of things have been done and a ton more await however I take solace in the fact that one way or another this PhD will be out of my hands, this time next year. Whether 'done and dusted' or 'tried and failed' is yet to be seen.
Why this positivity? Well I'm sleepy. Sleep deprived. Yawning. Want to go to bed. Eyelids 'a droopin. But I have yet to go sort out the electricity bill so, everybody, we're back to the mundane!
Friday, August 22, 2008
The Gig
Thank you everyone for the warm wishes and responses on the previous blog posts. Continuing with the celebrity type things, I opened my email yesterday to find that a presenter from the local radio network 98.3 fm had seen the Canberra times article and wants me to appear on a science show called 'Fuzzy Logic' this Sunday! So wish me luck one and all as this will be my second radio gig. The first one was for being a volunteer tutor for refugee children in Auckland and was a very interesting experience.
Somehow I feel that I would be less comfortable had this been a TV gig. Only because apart from worrying about what one has to say, one also has to worry about how one looks on TV. Radio - one less worry.
Friday is here and never have I looked forward to the weekend so much. The weeks are now packed, overflowing, full to the brim, bursting at the seams... you get the picture. It is all I can do to stumble home after gym, dance, netball or whatever else it was that I got myself into, make dinner and hit the sack - which, incidentally, is my couch for the last three weeks. The heater in my room has not been working well and I haven't had time to get it fixed so it is either freezing on the comfy bed in the room or slumming it on the couch and staying warm. Those that know me know that I would pick the warmth any day. Half a thought is to wheel the bed out to the drawing room but that idea has been vetoed by the sister who already cribs about me sleeping on the couch. All I want this weekend is some R&R. Days are getting longer again and the sun is peeking out so all is looking up on the weather front.
Enjoy the weekend everyone! Those of you who live in Canberra, tune in at 11.30 on Sunday!
Somehow I feel that I would be less comfortable had this been a TV gig. Only because apart from worrying about what one has to say, one also has to worry about how one looks on TV. Radio - one less worry.
Friday is here and never have I looked forward to the weekend so much. The weeks are now packed, overflowing, full to the brim, bursting at the seams... you get the picture. It is all I can do to stumble home after gym, dance, netball or whatever else it was that I got myself into, make dinner and hit the sack - which, incidentally, is my couch for the last three weeks. The heater in my room has not been working well and I haven't had time to get it fixed so it is either freezing on the comfy bed in the room or slumming it on the couch and staying warm. Those that know me know that I would pick the warmth any day. Half a thought is to wheel the bed out to the drawing room but that idea has been vetoed by the sister who already cribs about me sleeping on the couch. All I want this weekend is some R&R. Days are getting longer again and the sun is peeking out so all is looking up on the weather front.
Enjoy the weekend everyone! Those of you who live in Canberra, tune in at 11.30 on Sunday!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Do I make you proud?
I have been MIA from the blogosphere the last few weeks because real -lifeosphere has taken over and I log in today to find what - they have changed blogger layout and me no like.
Anyway so lots of fun has happened the last few weeks and let me start at the very end and work backwards - I am world famous in Canberra! http://news.anu.edu.au/?p=598 and http://www.canberratimes.com.au/news/local/news/general/
keeping-it-simple-at-the-cutting-edge/1245180.aspx if people have the patience and the will to find out how and why.
For my part I will say this - it was a battle of wits and will and confidence and it was the last bit that got me through (or so the judges said). Am I proud of this achievement - hell yes. Because it is not often that a coloured woman is chosen over Caucasian men and I have been in this field long enough and fought hard enough to know that. There have been frustrating times in similar competitions when that Caucasian boy won and even the judges could not point out why I was second (in one instance!) but it happened. In saying that, the competition was tough but good natured and the four boys were very good (as you can see by reading the articles) and their topics were by far more interesting than mine, I thought.
My mother reminded me of words that my Electronics lecturer had said to me in undergrad, and they rang very true on Thursday last week, he said "you are a brown female who is decent looking and you can talk! and you're studying Physics, you will do well"!
So much ado was made of me last few days and I have been getting tons of good wishes from a lot of people, and I am very very thankful to each and everyone alike. The Family has called and emailed and one message was loud and clear in all the wishes 'we expected nothing less'. Because you see, the Family expects nothing less. If I don't do well it is a cause for concern but when I do well I am just fulfilling my destiny! The bar has been raised generations ago and we can all but keep up.
In other news, the brother-in-law arrived on Thursday and already he has gained the revered spot of my 'lucky charm' what with the award getting few hours after his feet touched Canberra soil and my two year old bike getting sold for $600! He began at the harrowed halls of Canberra hospital today and let us all wish him luck!
So working backwards to the last (first?) event - the Sydney trip to celebrate the birthday of Mr. Universe, vprasad007 better known as Vik.
Words cannot describe the place we stayed at and the only saving grace was that it was bang smack in the heart of the city and less than a stone's throw from all the places that we wanted to go to. A great time was had by all and I think it will suffice to say that Sydney trips are always fun and this one raised the bar just that little bit.
Speaking of bars and raising - here's to the rest of this week, let us raise a glass (of hot beverage, as the mercury dips here in Canberra) to each other and to the fact that even though this year has had massive dips, there are rays of sunshine through the window.
Anyway so lots of fun has happened the last few weeks and let me start at the very end and work backwards - I am world famous in Canberra! http://news.anu.edu.au/?p=598 and http://www.canberratimes.com.au/news/local/news/general/
keeping-it-simple-at-the-cutting-edge/1245180.aspx if people have the patience and the will to find out how and why.
For my part I will say this - it was a battle of wits and will and confidence and it was the last bit that got me through (or so the judges said). Am I proud of this achievement - hell yes. Because it is not often that a coloured woman is chosen over Caucasian men and I have been in this field long enough and fought hard enough to know that. There have been frustrating times in similar competitions when that Caucasian boy won and even the judges could not point out why I was second (in one instance!) but it happened. In saying that, the competition was tough but good natured and the four boys were very good (as you can see by reading the articles) and their topics were by far more interesting than mine, I thought.
My mother reminded me of words that my Electronics lecturer had said to me in undergrad, and they rang very true on Thursday last week, he said "you are a brown female who is decent looking and you can talk! and you're studying Physics, you will do well"!
So much ado was made of me last few days and I have been getting tons of good wishes from a lot of people, and I am very very thankful to each and everyone alike. The Family has called and emailed and one message was loud and clear in all the wishes 'we expected nothing less'. Because you see, the Family expects nothing less. If I don't do well it is a cause for concern but when I do well I am just fulfilling my destiny! The bar has been raised generations ago and we can all but keep up.
In other news, the brother-in-law arrived on Thursday and already he has gained the revered spot of my 'lucky charm' what with the award getting few hours after his feet touched Canberra soil and my two year old bike getting sold for $600! He began at the harrowed halls of Canberra hospital today and let us all wish him luck!
So working backwards to the last (first?) event - the Sydney trip to celebrate the birthday of Mr. Universe, vprasad007 better known as Vik.
Words cannot describe the place we stayed at and the only saving grace was that it was bang smack in the heart of the city and less than a stone's throw from all the places that we wanted to go to. A great time was had by all and I think it will suffice to say that Sydney trips are always fun and this one raised the bar just that little bit.
Speaking of bars and raising - here's to the rest of this week, let us raise a glass (of hot beverage, as the mercury dips here in Canberra) to each other and to the fact that even though this year has had massive dips, there are rays of sunshine through the window.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Sydney times
Last week was spent in Sydney, officially attending a conference and unofficially catching up with the gang that currently resides there. It is a fantastic feeling telling a friend that you don't want to eat out anymore so they should cook for you and it feels all the better when they do! It also feels good to catch up with married friends and play the Wii over glasses of drink and Thai food!
Books were bought and I have managed thus far to keep my word and only buy second hand books (except for one lapse!) - The English Patient (Sorry Ashanka I have not yet read it but am getting there quick), Satanic Verses and Mila 18 which is borrowed from a friend. There was a lovely little second hand book store right next to the hotel where I put myself up, so needless to say a lot of time on the way to and back from the conference venue was spent happily perusing.
Jaane tu ya Jaane na was also watched last weekend. My reaction is 'meh *shrug*'. I guess the Aamir Khan name (albeit not as director) and the general over-hype surrounding this movie managed to over-sell it to me and it did not live up to expectations.
Of course they were best friends and of course they were not in love and of course they would end up together. Even the 'narration' part is flinched from Chalte Chalte. Originality came only in the form of Naseeruddin Shah and Ratna Pathak who were absolutely fantastic and effortlessly carried the humour and wit. Even Paresh Rawal's role did not do justice to an actor of his calibre.
A. R. Rehman's music does grow on one and it did for this movie too. I am undecided about Imran Khan - he has the makings of an Aamir without the playfulness, without the complete charm. Whether or not he has potential as an actor remains to be seen.
A lot of people enjoyed the movie as they could identify with a character in the film. As for me the closest anyone came to my character in the movie was Shaleen (I think her name was). The friend in the background who comes forth to spout some words of wisdom. Who is not overly anything - loud, dressy, emotional. Seems to have her head on her shoulders.
However, in saying all that, I liked Imran Khan's character in the movie and it taught me an important lesson. See, although I am not a romantic by any stretch of the imagination, I always wanted a guy who could beat the heck out of someone for me, who would take arms against the world if anyone else so much as batted an eyelid my way. Yet, after watching this movie, I realised that it takes much more of a man to tactfully side-step a physical fight and wittily save the day, that brain is more important than brawn.
Still, one must be willing and able to throw a mean punch when required, what say?
Books were bought and I have managed thus far to keep my word and only buy second hand books (except for one lapse!) - The English Patient (Sorry Ashanka I have not yet read it but am getting there quick), Satanic Verses and Mila 18 which is borrowed from a friend. There was a lovely little second hand book store right next to the hotel where I put myself up, so needless to say a lot of time on the way to and back from the conference venue was spent happily perusing.
Jaane tu ya Jaane na was also watched last weekend. My reaction is 'meh *shrug*'. I guess the Aamir Khan name (albeit not as director) and the general over-hype surrounding this movie managed to over-sell it to me and it did not live up to expectations.
Of course they were best friends and of course they were not in love and of course they would end up together. Even the 'narration' part is flinched from Chalte Chalte. Originality came only in the form of Naseeruddin Shah and Ratna Pathak who were absolutely fantastic and effortlessly carried the humour and wit. Even Paresh Rawal's role did not do justice to an actor of his calibre.
A. R. Rehman's music does grow on one and it did for this movie too. I am undecided about Imran Khan - he has the makings of an Aamir without the playfulness, without the complete charm. Whether or not he has potential as an actor remains to be seen.
A lot of people enjoyed the movie as they could identify with a character in the film. As for me the closest anyone came to my character in the movie was Shaleen (I think her name was). The friend in the background who comes forth to spout some words of wisdom. Who is not overly anything - loud, dressy, emotional. Seems to have her head on her shoulders.
However, in saying all that, I liked Imran Khan's character in the movie and it taught me an important lesson. See, although I am not a romantic by any stretch of the imagination, I always wanted a guy who could beat the heck out of someone for me, who would take arms against the world if anyone else so much as batted an eyelid my way. Yet, after watching this movie, I realised that it takes much more of a man to tactfully side-step a physical fight and wittily save the day, that brain is more important than brawn.
Still, one must be willing and able to throw a mean punch when required, what say?
Friday, July 25, 2008
Things that....
...get my goat!
So it came to be last week that the light in my kitchen flickered, flickered some more and then went out... just like that. Now, I could have thrown a hissy fit and ranted and raved and so I did. Then, in true (wannabe) engineer style I proceeded to unscrew the shade, the holder and all was revealed. The holder was broken. No matter, we shall get a new one thought and I shelled out a whopping $7 for the same. Now come the minor issues - ensuring that the switch was off I proceeded to unscrew the wires from the broken holder and transfer them to the new holder. Simple enough - not really. The tools were ok, so can't really blame those. Can blame the shoddy wiring and the terrible holder screws that caused half the damn ceiling to fall down. Ok I exaggerate, not half, but enough.
Turned out that turning off the switch was not good enough since there were four bloody wires. Four! and one of them was still live so it proceeded to give me a minor shock and a major scare. So then I turned off the mains. Did I mention that I was doing all this at 7 pm (after getting home from work)? So I don't own a torch and blue LED on the key chain, though powerful was not enough. So efforts were put on hold till the morning.
Did the needful the next day and for some god awful reason the bulb lost all sense of switch and just stayed on! Turned things off, checked wires, found loose wire, put it back in, screwed back on as tight as I could.. no luck. Did I mention, also, that I don't own a step ladder so I was standing on a chair of questionable stability?
Finally put in a call to the electrician who came by and with brute force put the last annoying wire in and things worked like magic. He was also equipped with the right tools, a drill and a step ladder! He did applaud my efforts and say that I had done most of his job for him! However this whole rant was a digression.
What got my goat is that first off I was talking to a (male) friend and told him that the light was busted and he said 'wait till I get there, don't do anything yourself'. Why the heck not? Are you made of insulating material? Or do you have magical powers that can fix wires without touching them? I realise that the electrician that came along was a man and yes, I agree that he was able to provide that last push that I couldn't, not because I am female but because I am not strong enough!
In the same vein, it also gets my goat when women are overly thankful when their husbands cook or clean or take care of their children. Why? They're human, they need food, (some) need a clean house and its their child too!
So why glorify them as if they have made inhuman effort and why be grateful that they have given you time off?
Which brings me nicely to my final point - why are some jobs classified as male-worthy and others as female-worthy? When I pull out the ol' Swiss army knife and fix screws and bulbs why is it less acceptable than me pulling out some wipes and giving the kitchen counter a wipe down?
During my three years in Canberra I have heaved furniture, fixed appliances, clean rotten food and dirty linen and lugged groceries up the hill! I will do it if I can and I know how to. Because this is life. Life does not see male or female, life does not know if a man is in trouble or it is a woman. Life just happens and one has to deal with it whether one is male or female.
So maybe now is a good time to change the word 'handyman' to 'handyperson'.
So it came to be last week that the light in my kitchen flickered, flickered some more and then went out... just like that. Now, I could have thrown a hissy fit and ranted and raved and so I did. Then, in true (wannabe) engineer style I proceeded to unscrew the shade, the holder and all was revealed. The holder was broken. No matter, we shall get a new one thought and I shelled out a whopping $7 for the same. Now come the minor issues - ensuring that the switch was off I proceeded to unscrew the wires from the broken holder and transfer them to the new holder. Simple enough - not really. The tools were ok, so can't really blame those. Can blame the shoddy wiring and the terrible holder screws that caused half the damn ceiling to fall down. Ok I exaggerate, not half, but enough.
Turned out that turning off the switch was not good enough since there were four bloody wires. Four! and one of them was still live so it proceeded to give me a minor shock and a major scare. So then I turned off the mains. Did I mention that I was doing all this at 7 pm (after getting home from work)? So I don't own a torch and blue LED on the key chain, though powerful was not enough. So efforts were put on hold till the morning.
Did the needful the next day and for some god awful reason the bulb lost all sense of switch and just stayed on! Turned things off, checked wires, found loose wire, put it back in, screwed back on as tight as I could.. no luck. Did I mention, also, that I don't own a step ladder so I was standing on a chair of questionable stability?
Finally put in a call to the electrician who came by and with brute force put the last annoying wire in and things worked like magic. He was also equipped with the right tools, a drill and a step ladder! He did applaud my efforts and say that I had done most of his job for him! However this whole rant was a digression.
What got my goat is that first off I was talking to a (male) friend and told him that the light was busted and he said 'wait till I get there, don't do anything yourself'. Why the heck not? Are you made of insulating material? Or do you have magical powers that can fix wires without touching them? I realise that the electrician that came along was a man and yes, I agree that he was able to provide that last push that I couldn't, not because I am female but because I am not strong enough!
In the same vein, it also gets my goat when women are overly thankful when their husbands cook or clean or take care of their children. Why? They're human, they need food, (some) need a clean house and its their child too!
So why glorify them as if they have made inhuman effort and why be grateful that they have given you time off?
Which brings me nicely to my final point - why are some jobs classified as male-worthy and others as female-worthy? When I pull out the ol' Swiss army knife and fix screws and bulbs why is it less acceptable than me pulling out some wipes and giving the kitchen counter a wipe down?
During my three years in Canberra I have heaved furniture, fixed appliances, clean rotten food and dirty linen and lugged groceries up the hill! I will do it if I can and I know how to. Because this is life. Life does not see male or female, life does not know if a man is in trouble or it is a woman. Life just happens and one has to deal with it whether one is male or female.
So maybe now is a good time to change the word 'handyman' to 'handyperson'.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Dark Knight
The Dark Knight was watched last weekend (and as I type that I realise that it was but obvious that the only thing needed for those words to course the veins was a movie review bah!).
The first stunner was watching Heath Ledger in action! He chilled me more than Jack Nicholson did as the Joker (Jack however did full justice to the role of the psycho in The Shining though, that was freezing!). Heath Ledger brings to the role a maniacal quality which of course Nicholson had but maybe I wasn't old enough to appreciate it. This calls for re-watching people.
Rumour has it (or is it fact now?) that Ledger prepared for this role by going into isolation, working himself up to such an extent that it caused him to have hallucinations and resulted in his death. Very very unfortunate for an actor of such calibre.
Back to the movie, well I liked it, perhaps not as much as Batman Begins but good all the same.
Felt it could have done with a tad slicker editing process.
The biggest shock of all was that Gary Oldman (of Sirus Black fame) played Inspector Gordon! Makes me wonder as to how the cast of the HP series will look by the time the seventh movie is made. Bring out the walking sticks and dentures!
While the chill of winter continues, Canberra temperatures are still oscillating between the early negatives and the false positives. So until next time I leave you with these words of wisdom by none other than the Joker himself - 'You either die a hero, or live long enough to become the villian.' Truer words have seldom been spoken.
The first stunner was watching Heath Ledger in action! He chilled me more than Jack Nicholson did as the Joker (Jack however did full justice to the role of the psycho in The Shining though, that was freezing!). Heath Ledger brings to the role a maniacal quality which of course Nicholson had but maybe I wasn't old enough to appreciate it. This calls for re-watching people.
Rumour has it (or is it fact now?) that Ledger prepared for this role by going into isolation, working himself up to such an extent that it caused him to have hallucinations and resulted in his death. Very very unfortunate for an actor of such calibre.
Back to the movie, well I liked it, perhaps not as much as Batman Begins but good all the same.
Felt it could have done with a tad slicker editing process.
The biggest shock of all was that Gary Oldman (of Sirus Black fame) played Inspector Gordon! Makes me wonder as to how the cast of the HP series will look by the time the seventh movie is made. Bring out the walking sticks and dentures!
While the chill of winter continues, Canberra temperatures are still oscillating between the early negatives and the false positives. So until next time I leave you with these words of wisdom by none other than the Joker himself - 'You either die a hero, or live long enough to become the villian.' Truer words have seldom been spoken.
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