Whew! After a long time!
Since my exams are just around the corner, I thought I'd unwind by blogging. Anyhoo ... I realised that I have made a huge mistake by trying to start this series ... there are a lot of reasons why this is actually a bad idea ... Living in Sydney for the past eight years have not meant that I've been to many places ... in fact I haven't ... the head of my family [daddy] suffers from paranoia, aggression and ultimately he is just someone you wouldn't want as a company ... I went to a all girls school and my friends were on the conservative side and would rather watch a random movie than go places [that's a different story in itself] and so the bitter story continues ...
Most of my 'travels' happened through school and some other random friends/family outing ... major bore ... nevertheless it'll send even the most extreme insomniacs to bed ... and that's probably the most I can do to contribute to this society ... Ultimately it'll probably seem like I have been to a lot places ... Wow, that doesn't even make sense ...
So enjoy ... and erm ... sorry that I haven't updated for what might seem like a lightyear to some people ... [I highly doubt that though] ...
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Sunday, July 31, 2005
Excursion : About, Overview & FAQ !
I was walking towards the bathroom to perform those after-waking-up-things and it hit me. What this blog needs is some sort of a direction, a distinct path to tread on rather than walking through a jungle one day and flying to Mars the next day {which would be cool come to think of it}. It's a bit like life when you think about it {Wow, here comes the all-knowing life expert}. A direction-lacking life only yields a series of confusion and depression and eventual unhappy die-a-tion {to be consistent with the whole rhyming thing I had going on}.
About :
Everyone loves those boring personal travel stories and I bet everyone loves writing about them. I am of course no different. So I thought for a while I'll cover all my travelling thingy's {'till date} in my blog. It'll come with nice descriptions, some sarcasm, some humour relief and perhaps some pictures. {Only after someone tells me how to do it .. Do I use hosting-images-thingys? Then what?}
Overview :
I'm not sure how frequent I will be or the length of each entry, whether one 'adventure' will roll over to a second entry and many many uncertainties. Let's see how I go. The entries will be chronological starting from when I was a wee-lass to erm.. now. I wanted to put up all the titles of the upcoming episodes then thought against it, as that would require me to 'Think'.
FAQ:
a) What is 'Excursion'?
Dictionary.com explains the word excursion as:
1. A usually short journey made for pleasure; an outing.
2. A roundtrip on a passenger vehicle at a special low fare.
3. A group taking a short pleasure trip together.
From this I hope the readers will understand what excursion means. Otherwise consider perhaps a beginners english course or contact me for tutouring {fees and charges will definitely apply}.
b) Why this outrageous idea out of nowhere?
To make this stupid blog more effeicient and read-worthy. To kill some time and brag about my travels. To show off some english skills and last but not least, people will get to see my chronologically ugly face {that's still a maybe though}.
c) How this idea came about?
Two places: DMR's blog and the family bathroom.
d) What are you hoping to achieve?
Nothing. Re-read response to question b).
e) Why can't I see any photos?
Because they haven't been uploaded or perhaps your server is just plain crap.
f) How can I contact you?
Leave your name, telephone number and a short message after you've finished reading. We will get back to you as soon as possible.
About :
Everyone loves those boring personal travel stories and I bet everyone loves writing about them. I am of course no different. So I thought for a while I'll cover all my travelling thingy's {'till date} in my blog. It'll come with nice descriptions, some sarcasm, some humour relief and perhaps some pictures. {Only after someone tells me how to do it .. Do I use hosting-images-thingys? Then what?}
Overview :
I'm not sure how frequent I will be or the length of each entry, whether one 'adventure' will roll over to a second entry and many many uncertainties. Let's see how I go. The entries will be chronological starting from when I was a wee-lass to erm.. now. I wanted to put up all the titles of the upcoming episodes then thought against it, as that would require me to 'Think'.
FAQ:
a) What is 'Excursion'?
Dictionary.com explains the word excursion as:
1. A usually short journey made for pleasure; an outing.
2. A roundtrip on a passenger vehicle at a special low fare.
3. A group taking a short pleasure trip together.
From this I hope the readers will understand what excursion means. Otherwise consider perhaps a beginners english course or contact me for tutouring {fees and charges will definitely apply}.
b) Why this outrageous idea out of nowhere?
To make this stupid blog more effeicient and read-worthy. To kill some time and brag about my travels. To show off some english skills and last but not least, people will get to see my chronologically ugly face {that's still a maybe though}.
c) How this idea came about?
Two places: DMR's blog and the family bathroom.
d) What are you hoping to achieve?
Nothing. Re-read response to question b).
e) Why can't I see any photos?
Because they haven't been uploaded or perhaps your server is just plain crap.
f) How can I contact you?
Leave your name, telephone number and a short message after you've finished reading. We will get back to you as soon as possible.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Updation!
I've totally revamped the 'look' of my blog by stealing from various places on the Internet. Due to the constant reminder of the 'plagiarism issue' I shall now credit the people or rather the websites I've acquired 'Zee look'.
The blog background thingy, the style, the bla-bla is courtesy of blogger.com
The Image thingy is from a website called artbackroom.com. This is a site I recommend people to visit. Anek artist [mostly unknown, or rather unknown to me]. This particular piece is called 'American Forest-After Rain' by an artist named Karen Williams Edelmann.
The thingy written in place of my usual profile is of course a poem by T.S. Eliot. The stupid system does not seem to allow lines, hence everything looks like a paragraph-mush. The lines were printed in the website called bartleby.com. I've just had a look at the 'whole' site and to my untrainted eyes, it's a good literary-info-full-web-site.
That's it for now. I wanted to write a whole lot more, but moi is hungry and a tad bit impatient.
The blog background thingy, the style, the bla-bla is courtesy of blogger.com
The Image thingy is from a website called artbackroom.com. This is a site I recommend people to visit. Anek artist [mostly unknown, or rather unknown to me]. This particular piece is called 'American Forest-After Rain' by an artist named Karen Williams Edelmann.
The thingy written in place of my usual profile is of course a poem by T.S. Eliot. The stupid system does not seem to allow lines, hence everything looks like a paragraph-mush. The lines were printed in the website called bartleby.com. I've just had a look at the 'whole' site and to my untrainted eyes, it's a good literary-info-full-web-site.
That's it for now. I wanted to write a whole lot more, but moi is hungry and a tad bit impatient.
Wednesday, June 29, 2005
-Sway-
When my family bought our first television back in the late 1997 [in Sydney that is] I discovered 'VideoHits'. It's sort of like an alternative to Aus-MTV. While MTV aired on cable, VideoHits was/still is shown on one of the five normal channels; channel 10. At around that time, one of the top songs were Backstreet Boys - Everybody - which I simply loved, not because of the song, but because of the video clip [I was {and still am} really into vampires, mummies and the whole Halloween shabang]. I witnessed Britney Spears 'Sometimes' hit and stay at number one for six weeks. There came a time when every saturday and sunday the show would end playing 'Sometimes I run, sometimes I hide ... bla bla'
It's here I first heard the song 'Sway' back in 1999, when I was in year 7. I admit, apart from the words Sway my way, I hardly registered anything in my head, but the melody was really nice. I remember the video clip too; a simple clip without a whole lot of shabangs. I remember Runga getting a plastic milk curtain out of a supermarket fridge and head to the counter; where stood the counter-guy who clearly is the one she wanted to sway for her. In total, VideoHits played this song around four times only. That was the end of that. I never heard that song ever again, until yesterday, nearly 7 years later. [Thankss]. It makes more sense now that I hear it. Very nice song, very nice ... I'll post the lyric ... Courtesy of her official website ... http://www.bicrunga.com/precious/thing.html
Sway- Bic Runga
Don't stray
Don't ever go away
I should be much too smart for this
You know it gets the better
Of me
Sometimes
When you and I collide
I fall into an ocean of you
Pull me out in time
Don't let me drown
Let me down
I say it's all because of you
And here I bujhle
Go
Losing my
Control
I'm practising your name
So I can say it
To your face it doesn't
Seem right
To look you in the eye
And let all the things
You mean to me
Come tumbling out my mouth
Indeed it's time
Tell you why
I say it's
Infinitely true
Say you'll stay
Don't come and go
Like you do
Sway my way
Yeah I need to know
All about you
And there's no cure
And no way to be sure
Why everythings turned inside out
Instilling so much doubt
It makes me so tired
I feel so uninspired
My head is battling with my heart
My logic has been torn apart
And now
It all turns sour
Come sweeten
Every afternoon
Say you'll stay
Don't come and go
Like you do
Sway my way
Yeah I need to know
All about you
Say you'll Stay
Don't come and go
Like you do
Sway my way
Yeah I need to know
All about you
Its all because of you
Its all because of you
Now it all turns sour
Come sweeten
Every afternoon
It's time
Tell you why
I say it's
Infinitely true
Say you'll stay
It's here I first heard the song 'Sway' back in 1999, when I was in year 7. I admit, apart from the words Sway my way, I hardly registered anything in my head, but the melody was really nice. I remember the video clip too; a simple clip without a whole lot of shabangs. I remember Runga getting a plastic milk curtain out of a supermarket fridge and head to the counter; where stood the counter-guy who clearly is the one she wanted to sway for her. In total, VideoHits played this song around four times only. That was the end of that. I never heard that song ever again, until yesterday, nearly 7 years later. [Thankss]. It makes more sense now that I hear it. Very nice song, very nice ... I'll post the lyric ... Courtesy of her official website ... http://www.bicrunga.com/precious/thing.html
Sway- Bic Runga
Don't stray
Don't ever go away
I should be much too smart for this
You know it gets the better
Of me
Sometimes
When you and I collide
I fall into an ocean of you
Pull me out in time
Don't let me drown
Let me down
I say it's all because of you
And here I bujhle
Go
Losing my
Control
I'm practising your name
So I can say it
To your face it doesn't
Seem right
To look you in the eye
And let all the things
You mean to me
Come tumbling out my mouth
Indeed it's time
Tell you why
I say it's
Infinitely true
Say you'll stay
Don't come and go
Like you do
Sway my way
Yeah I need to know
All about you
And there's no cure
And no way to be sure
Why everythings turned inside out
Instilling so much doubt
It makes me so tired
I feel so uninspired
My head is battling with my heart
My logic has been torn apart
And now
It all turns sour
Come sweeten
Every afternoon
Say you'll stay
Don't come and go
Like you do
Sway my way
Yeah I need to know
All about you
Say you'll Stay
Don't come and go
Like you do
Sway my way
Yeah I need to know
All about you
Its all because of you
Its all because of you
Now it all turns sour
Come sweeten
Every afternoon
It's time
Tell you why
I say it's
Infinitely true
Say you'll stay
Sunday, June 26, 2005
-Words of the Day-
Courtesy of dictionary.com - an efficient and extremely lazy way of improving one's vocabulary!
Verily :
1. In truth; in fact
2. With confidence; assuredly
Admonish : (verb - admonishing)
1. To reprove gently but earnestly
2. To counsel (another) against something to be avoided; caution
3. To remind of something forgotten or disregarded, as an obligation or a responsibility
Counsel :
1. Advice or guidance
2. A plan of action
3. Private, guarded thoughts or opinions
Annals :
1. A chronological record of the events of successive years
2. A descriptive account or records; a history
Betide : (verb - betided)
1. To happen to
Yore :
1. Time long past
Albeit :
1. Even though; although; notwithstanding
Doughty :
1. Marked by stouthearted courage; brave
Dominion :
1. Control or the exercise of control; sovereignity
2. A territory or sphere of influence or control; realm
Verily :
1. In truth; in fact
2. With confidence; assuredly
Admonish : (verb - admonishing)
1. To reprove gently but earnestly
2. To counsel (another) against something to be avoided; caution
3. To remind of something forgotten or disregarded, as an obligation or a responsibility
Counsel :
1. Advice or guidance
2. A plan of action
3. Private, guarded thoughts or opinions
Annals :
1. A chronological record of the events of successive years
2. A descriptive account or records; a history
Betide : (verb - betided)
1. To happen to
Yore :
1. Time long past
Albeit :
1. Even though; although; notwithstanding
Doughty :
1. Marked by stouthearted courage; brave
Dominion :
1. Control or the exercise of control; sovereignity
2. A territory or sphere of influence or control; realm
Saturday, June 25, 2005
-Babble-
What's the proper way to read a book? We start at the beginning and finish at the end- could that be called reading? To fully qualify to 'know' a language one must not only speak it with fluency , s/he must also be able to write what s/he speaks and read and understand other written work. How much do we understand when we read? It is said that as soon as a person starts to read, the author is dead- in the sense that as soon as I start bringing my own values and relate my own experience to a fictious text; the ideas, values and the experience originally expressed by the author cease to exist. Of course, this is no way my theory, I'm merely stating someone else's statement mixed with some of my own understanding. This is why it's so hard to do or think up something original.
Anyway, back to reading. So the overall process is something like - a string of letters that form words represent objects in our daily life - some special words within a sentence give the objects individual attributes (action and description). The reader then process all these by placing them within a defined context, making sense out of what once were simple letters.
Our brain has the tendency to fill in the gaps for us. So essentially most of us don't need to look up that strange word in the dictionary to make sense out of a sentence. Of course, knowing that particular word would most likely heighten the sense of meaning. However, most of us (or is it just me?) never in a million years would open up a dictionary and check. There's a good reason behind it too. Once that 'reading-flow' comes along, it's hard to look elsewhere but the book, let alone taking the time out to consult a dictionary - which is always ever so tedius, despite the great 'dic-skills' someone might have. In a 'flow-ed' state skipping one sentence would no way harm the overall intended meaning {and believe me, one attribute for good readers is that they never need to manually read a whole word, for some words the brain automatically does it for us}. Hence the notion of let's-not-consult-a-dictionary. Truth be told, I've only found out the EXACT meaning of 'reluctant' a few weeks ago. Frankly speaking, having a vague idea about that words' meaning was never a hindrance to my understanding.
I started reading 'Arabian Nights' last night and for some reason my brain would not register a word of the only two lines I read. When I tried again tonight, I realised there were just too many words in one sentence I didn't know the meaning to. So, I opened up a dictionary and tried to locate the word 'Verily'. I failed. Now, I have no doubt about my 'dic-skills' I picked up at a very early age, so that is definitely not the case of my failure. I tried the word 'very' to see if the fat book offered me that other word, and for some reason, be it the poor lighting of the crappy table lamp that I have or perhaps the fat book itself that was to blame, I had no luck!
Anyway, back to reading. So the overall process is something like - a string of letters that form words represent objects in our daily life - some special words within a sentence give the objects individual attributes (action and description). The reader then process all these by placing them within a defined context, making sense out of what once were simple letters.
Our brain has the tendency to fill in the gaps for us. So essentially most of us don't need to look up that strange word in the dictionary to make sense out of a sentence. Of course, knowing that particular word would most likely heighten the sense of meaning. However, most of us (or is it just me?) never in a million years would open up a dictionary and check. There's a good reason behind it too. Once that 'reading-flow' comes along, it's hard to look elsewhere but the book, let alone taking the time out to consult a dictionary - which is always ever so tedius, despite the great 'dic-skills' someone might have. In a 'flow-ed' state skipping one sentence would no way harm the overall intended meaning {and believe me, one attribute for good readers is that they never need to manually read a whole word, for some words the brain automatically does it for us}. Hence the notion of let's-not-consult-a-dictionary. Truth be told, I've only found out the EXACT meaning of 'reluctant' a few weeks ago. Frankly speaking, having a vague idea about that words' meaning was never a hindrance to my understanding.
I started reading 'Arabian Nights' last night and for some reason my brain would not register a word of the only two lines I read. When I tried again tonight, I realised there were just too many words in one sentence I didn't know the meaning to. So, I opened up a dictionary and tried to locate the word 'Verily'. I failed. Now, I have no doubt about my 'dic-skills' I picked up at a very early age, so that is definitely not the case of my failure. I tried the word 'very' to see if the fat book offered me that other word, and for some reason, be it the poor lighting of the crappy table lamp that I have or perhaps the fat book itself that was to blame, I had no luck!
Tuesday, June 21, 2005
-Shaolee-
Below is an excerpt story written by my sister's friend. She's my sister's age and a very promising [shall I say] writer. I requested her to write something where the main character goes by my name along with some attributes I myself lack and would've liked to have. Her [let's call her V] other stuff are pretty good, better than this piece. However, it's probably best not to compare. Oh, yes, the title of the short story in 'Shaolee'.
Chapter I: Garnet
The sky was a nice pale blue, wispy grey clouds drawn across it. The sun beat down with a hot glare, showering the land with bright vivid sun shine. There was a cool gentle breeze.
A nineteen year old girl strolled casually towards the growing crops on a peasants farm. She was quite tall and pale, her long wavy dark brown hair held up with many small pins and fell in down loosely in curls. She had a delicate nose, a pointed chin and determined brown eyes. She wore a long blue dress that fell to her ankles, with puffy sleeves and lacy hems.
A girl on the crops of growing wheat, shovel in hand, looked up sharply at the sound of footsteps. She smiled as she recognised the girl that had just walked onto the farmland.
“Shaolee!” cried the girl with delight, “So you did come after all.”
Shaolee grinned, and answered, “I was meant to be gathering the eggs on the farm, but I slipped out of duty. I suppose you can call it that, eh Garnet?” She ignored the voice in her head, which told her that she should stop lying and tell Garnet her real origins.
“You mean you abandoned your duties,” said Garnet, flashing pearly white teeth. Garnet pulled the shovel from the earth and leaned airily on it, “Want to help? I have to finish this by dusk.” She glanced at the gleaming sun, but not directly. Garnet picked up a shovel and threw it at Shaolee.
Shaolee picked the shovel up deftly, and walked over to Garnet. A sound stopped her in her tracks, a trumpeting horn of the tax collector. Shaolee froze, a look of terror on her face.
“What’s wrong?” asked Garnet in concern, as she noticed Shaolee’s stiff behavior.
“The taxpayer,” whispered Shaolee, her heart beating reasonably faster.
“What about the tax collector?” replied Garnet.
Shaolee turned and ran, hitching up her skirts, yelling over her shoulder, “I’ll tell you tomorrow, Garnet!” The horn of the tax collector began blowing behind her, and squeaked to a stop suddenly, with the taxpayer shouting with surprise, “Lady Shaolee! What are you doing here?”
Shaolee ignored him, tearing through the thick forests, branches scrapping against her knees and cheeks, ripping through her skirts. She stumbled and fell into a puddle of mud. Wearily she gathered herself up and ran, in desperation to arrive back to the capital of the fiefdom before the tax collector.
Sunday, June 19, 2005
-Another Random-
Just for the sake of updation ...
Following people are being missed:
- HolyMonk
- P6C
- Eemra
- Hell-So
- Arafay
Following songs are being searched for:
- Sway
- Justify my love
- This song jeitar naam/dhaam/gayok kichui mone nai ... akta line chara ... even oi line-tao completely mone nei
Following things I have to do:
- Burn a whole bunch of songs
- Read a whole bunch of books
- Finish a whole bunch of unfinished prose and poetry
- Listen to a whole bunch of songs
Following things I've realised:
- I feel terribly lonely
- Hotel California's live version gets my vote over the CD version
- 'Angie' is a terribly nice song
- I like things that inflict depression and sadness all at the same time I like things that inflict positiveness and optimism
- I'm trying terribly to be very very nice
- My blog timer is set at a wrong time
Following people are being missed:
- HolyMonk
- P6C
- Eemra
- Hell-So
- Arafay
Following songs are being searched for:
- Sway
- Justify my love
- This song jeitar naam/dhaam/gayok kichui mone nai ... akta line chara ... even oi line-tao completely mone nei
Following things I have to do:
- Burn a whole bunch of songs
- Read a whole bunch of books
- Finish a whole bunch of unfinished prose and poetry
- Listen to a whole bunch of songs
Following things I've realised:
- I feel terribly lonely
- Hotel California's live version gets my vote over the CD version
- 'Angie' is a terribly nice song
- I like things that inflict depression and sadness all at the same time I like things that inflict positiveness and optimism
- I'm trying terribly to be very very nice
- My blog timer is set at a wrong time
Thursday, June 16, 2005
-Random Sequal-
I'm getting hooked on Anime's ... which is not good ... all I think about are the characters and why they act the way they do and secretly wish I had an 'anime-ish' life ... I see the super-duper morally strong all round nice/good people and wish I was like them ... I also see the hideous morally ugly all round evil/bad people and wish I was like them ...
This is not good ... however, the good news is ... nothing lasts forever in the cold november rain ... what I mean is like my wise mama [uncle] says ... 'tomar kono interest nai ... tumi all time reluctant' ...
This is not good ... however, the good news is ... nothing lasts forever in the cold november rain ... what I mean is like my wise mama [uncle] says ... 'tomar kono interest nai ... tumi all time reluctant' ...
Friday, June 10, 2005
-My Day-
I received my Psychology Research Assignment back from marking today. It was out of 100, and knowing I had put in the best effort I can, I was hoping for a pass [>50]. I flipped to the front, and there was the answer to this erm I'm lost for words. Turns out that the marker hasn't received the actual report. The only thing he was given was the search print-outs for which he gave me full marks [8]. This is really really strange because I've strictly handed every minor/major part of the assessment. Anyhow, I thought I'd go home and print a copy out and explain the whole situation. I mailed my tutor [marker] ...
Long story ... Don't feel like finishing it ...
Long story ... Don't feel like finishing it ...
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
-Untitled-
" Hi, I'm calling to enquire about a pair of Sherdon shoes, catalouge number 1008, black-brown, size 8 ... oh okay...."
" .... And last night's concert was like so like fun. Yeah, I like saw him and he said Hi. Yeah, like I'm going next week as well. It's so like ...."
" No, the industrial relations bill cannot be passed. Just imagine no rights as a worker, we can't refute our employer, can't receive paid maternity leave. Damn this government. Sometimes I just ...."
" .... Want my school to go well in the HSC. Otherwise my own average with fall."
" Sometimes I think maybe I should just fuck up ...."
It has been ten minutes since I found this spot. Everyday it becomes more and more troublesome for me to find a place where hundreds of conversations do not intercept my own thoughts. 'Their' petty talks pierce through my brain like icy winter raindrops. Even then, I do not move. I have grown accustomed to the burning rays of the sun. Each and every particles are travelling up to my arms, spreading a vicious warmth along the way. I cover my rested head with a piece of yellow paper, strech out my limbs and block out the intruders; or at least try.
To be continued as soon as I get a bloody flow of words ...
" .... And last night's concert was like so like fun. Yeah, I like saw him and he said Hi. Yeah, like I'm going next week as well. It's so like ...."
" No, the industrial relations bill cannot be passed. Just imagine no rights as a worker, we can't refute our employer, can't receive paid maternity leave. Damn this government. Sometimes I just ...."
" .... Want my school to go well in the HSC. Otherwise my own average with fall."
" Sometimes I think maybe I should just fuck up ...."
It has been ten minutes since I found this spot. Everyday it becomes more and more troublesome for me to find a place where hundreds of conversations do not intercept my own thoughts. 'Their' petty talks pierce through my brain like icy winter raindrops. Even then, I do not move. I have grown accustomed to the burning rays of the sun. Each and every particles are travelling up to my arms, spreading a vicious warmth along the way. I cover my rested head with a piece of yellow paper, strech out my limbs and block out the intruders; or at least try.
To be continued as soon as I get a bloody flow of words ...
Sunday, June 05, 2005
-Boredomness-
Your #1 Match: ISFP |
The Artist You are a gifted artist or musician (though your talents may be dormant right now). You enjoy spending your free time in nature, and you are good with animals and children. Simply put, you enjoy bueaty in all its forms and live for the simple pleasures in life. Gentle, sensitive, and compassionate - you are good at recognizing people's unspoken needs. You would make a good veterinarian, pediatrician, or composer. |
Your #2 Match: INFP |
The Idealist You are creative with a great imagination, living in your own inner world. Open minded and accepting, you strive for harmony in your important relationships. It takes a long time for people to get to know you. You are hesitant to let people get close. But once you care for someone, you do everything you can to help them grow and develop. You would make an excellent writer, psychologist, or artist. |
Your #3 Match: ISFJ |
The Nurturer You have a strong need to belong, and you very loyal. A good listener, you excell at helping others in practical ways. In your spare time, you enjoy engaging your senses through art, cooking, and music. You find it easy to be devoted to one person, who you do special things for. You would make a good interior designer, chef, or child psychologist. |
Your #4 Match: ISTP |
The Mechanic You are calm and collected, even in the most difficult of situations. A person of action and self-direction, you love being independent. To outsiders yous eem impulsive, surprising, and unpredictable. You are good at understanding how all things work, except for people. You would make an excellent pilot, forensic pathologist, or athlete. |
Your #5 Match: INFJ |
The Protector You live your life with integrity, originality, vision, and creativity. Independent and stubborn, you rarely stray from your vision - no matter what it is. You are an excellent listener, with almost infinite patience. You have complex, deep feelings, and you take great care to express them. You would make a great photographer, alternative medicine guru, or teacher. |
Can everyone see that? Stupid piece of _____ ... How do I save on the 'above' space?
Tuesday, May 24, 2005
My Four Cents on Sexy-ness!
I was watching a hindi film called 'Musafir', rather I was watching the songs featured in the movie. I basically stopped watching Bollywood films in a sense that I no longer know who stars in which movie, which movie was released before which movie and the list goes on. Anyway, back to the songs.
I heard and liked two of the songs way before I watched the video-clips to them. I was thinking to myself, well the songs are good and up-beaty and what not, the clips must be similar too. Oh boy was I right. They were upbeaty alright. So upbeat that it's guaranteed to make anyone's and everyone's ___ to beat {and I'm not talking about the heart}. In this one song, the 'nayika' was bathing herself with the same soap-water she was using to wash the nayok's car. In bangla there's a semi-cliched sentence that goes something like 'shongkhipto jama-i taar joubon uthle pore'. Well, I felt my brain saying that very sentence in a loop. I must admit, the bloody camera-man did an awsome job of depicting her almost-nakedness-illusion-of-sexy-ness-thing. The 'nayika' squeezes a whole lot of foamy soap down her dress. We see an overhead shot where we can see those same foamed soap located in her cleavage. She then hoses herself down with water {same water she uses to hose down the car}. We again get an insight into how those cleavage located soaps get washed away.
I now come to the second video clip. The song is titled 'Saaki'. The song itself I found sexy for some reason. It's the singer's voice, damn hot in my opinion. The thing is when you hear a song {rather when I hear a song} you try to visualise it. So obviously I was visualising a damn-hot Saaki (female wine-bearer) who is worth worshipping more the wine itself. {If you heard the song, you'd know what I am talking about.} Don't get me wrong, the 'chick' in this clip was hot. She had this forced-sex-y-thing in her and she 'shook' so much. I didn't even know that some parts of the body can be shaken like that. Shows how much I really know. Typically her actions are very sexy in a very uncreative way. At one point I lost track of her sexy-ness because she was just all over the place with all that vigorous shaking. I think this is the reason why I never liked pornography either.
So all this made me think, where did all the sophisticated sexy-ness disappear to? Am I the only one who thinks more layer of clothes are sexier than in-your-face-poke-your-eyes-out-exposed-skin? Ultimately it's not {rather shouldn't be} what you wear or your over-actions that make you sexy, it's your attitude. It's the creativity in own attitude that should project a sense of sexy-ness {if that's the sort of projection one is trying to achieve}. Right now I am reminded of this lady, we'll call her J. When I was in Dhaka, sick in bed, she came and sat next to me one day and believe me, her sexy-ness is far beyond that of the 'chicks' shown in any given music/hindi movie song video. 'My' J was wearing a black shari, with a blouse that matched the achol. She had the most sexy eyes outlined with not-so-thick kajol. She had a semi-sized tip that complimented her face so well. Overall she was a fine specimen of the sort of 'Saaki' woman I once visualised. J has this natural sexy-ness thing overall that I was really amazed {in my sickness too goddamnit}. No unneccessary skin was exposed, not an inch, proof of the fact that one need not strip down to their bikini lines to produce an illusion of sex and sexy-ness. {Frankly, I hate those sexy-ness that effect the groins only.}
Anyway, whatever. What do I know about all this.
I heard and liked two of the songs way before I watched the video-clips to them. I was thinking to myself, well the songs are good and up-beaty and what not, the clips must be similar too. Oh boy was I right. They were upbeaty alright. So upbeat that it's guaranteed to make anyone's and everyone's ___ to beat {and I'm not talking about the heart}. In this one song, the 'nayika' was bathing herself with the same soap-water she was using to wash the nayok's car. In bangla there's a semi-cliched sentence that goes something like 'shongkhipto jama-i taar joubon uthle pore'. Well, I felt my brain saying that very sentence in a loop. I must admit, the bloody camera-man did an awsome job of depicting her almost-nakedness-illusion-of-sexy-ness-thing. The 'nayika' squeezes a whole lot of foamy soap down her dress. We see an overhead shot where we can see those same foamed soap located in her cleavage. She then hoses herself down with water {same water she uses to hose down the car}. We again get an insight into how those cleavage located soaps get washed away.
I now come to the second video clip. The song is titled 'Saaki'. The song itself I found sexy for some reason. It's the singer's voice, damn hot in my opinion. The thing is when you hear a song {rather when I hear a song} you try to visualise it. So obviously I was visualising a damn-hot Saaki (female wine-bearer) who is worth worshipping more the wine itself. {If you heard the song, you'd know what I am talking about.} Don't get me wrong, the 'chick' in this clip was hot. She had this forced-sex-y-thing in her and she 'shook' so much. I didn't even know that some parts of the body can be shaken like that. Shows how much I really know. Typically her actions are very sexy in a very uncreative way. At one point I lost track of her sexy-ness because she was just all over the place with all that vigorous shaking. I think this is the reason why I never liked pornography either.
So all this made me think, where did all the sophisticated sexy-ness disappear to? Am I the only one who thinks more layer of clothes are sexier than in-your-face-poke-your-eyes-out-exposed-skin? Ultimately it's not {rather shouldn't be} what you wear or your over-actions that make you sexy, it's your attitude. It's the creativity in own attitude that should project a sense of sexy-ness {if that's the sort of projection one is trying to achieve}. Right now I am reminded of this lady, we'll call her J. When I was in Dhaka, sick in bed, she came and sat next to me one day and believe me, her sexy-ness is far beyond that of the 'chicks' shown in any given music/hindi movie song video. 'My' J was wearing a black shari, with a blouse that matched the achol. She had the most sexy eyes outlined with not-so-thick kajol. She had a semi-sized tip that complimented her face so well. Overall she was a fine specimen of the sort of 'Saaki' woman I once visualised. J has this natural sexy-ness thing overall that I was really amazed {in my sickness too goddamnit}. No unneccessary skin was exposed, not an inch, proof of the fact that one need not strip down to their bikini lines to produce an illusion of sex and sexy-ness. {Frankly, I hate those sexy-ness that effect the groins only.}
Anyway, whatever. What do I know about all this.
Monday, May 23, 2005
Prior Series: Five Hours Before (this post)!
I bunked Uni today. I've doing that a lot these days, mostly because of assignments and my failure to get them done well before their due date. {Should I type 'their' or some other crazy grammar?} Why today's 'bunking' or 'jigging' or 'wagging' {<--Aussie-slangs} is worth typing up so that my supportive (!) readers are able to read it, is because, it was a different kind of 'bunking' or 'jigging' or 'wagging'. {I should stop using long sentences.}
I had to drop off an assignment before 10 am at Upper Campus, which literally murdered my legs and my energy because of the stupid no-good-uni's geographical layout. {More on this some other day.} After coming back down to the Lower Campus, I decided to attend last half hour of 9 am maths lecture. Having done that, I decided to attend my 10 am tutorial because they mark the roll and I was absent in the last tute. At exactly 11 am, I couldn't take it anymore. I was falling asleep in maths tute and feeling low and depressed {to be covered later}. I met Matt on the way, who asked what I had then, to which I said that I was going home. He looked surprised because we still had another five hours of classes left.
I headed for the bus stop opposite my-house-taking-bus-stop. I have a place. It's been my place ever since I thought of having a place. It's my get-away place. It's my thinking place. It's my most-memory-contained place. It's where I've taken my friends [they don't know that it's my place though]. It's where you get the best view of the harbour, the opera house, the harbour bridge, the botanical garden, the ships, the waves...
This time however, I walked past my place because a whole bunch of police-people were there and I needed peace. Then I thought why not just hang out at the botanical garden. It's H-U-G-E. After living here for seven/eight years, I still haven't seen most parts of this garden. {Then again, what else is there to see other than trees, plants, fountain-y-thingy-s, more trees, flowers, grass, trees..} The view is awsome though. The harbour surrounds the outer rim of the whole garden, a bit like a peninsula. Before entering the gate I bought a bottle of mineral water {which tastes like crap} from a little drink-station under umbrellas. I must have looked real shit because the guy kept looking at me {and he was Indi/Bangali}. The stupid drink cost me $3, which is a lot for a bottle of water. {Only because the store was right infront of the Opera House}. I realised this guy probably had the best job. All he did was just sit there. The tourists didn't seem to want any drinks and given the over-price of things, I didn't think anyone would. {Then again, I did..}
So I set off with my bag on one shoulder, a shawl in one hand and the mineral water in the other (hand). The sun was up, it wasn't so windy and definitely warmer than it was in the morning. I started walking. It seemed as if I was the only one because everyone around me were either running, jogging, walking or in between. I would pass a certain point and glance at the harbour and realise that I should become a hobby-photographer. I diverted my thoughts to find particular things I'd photograph, the angle I'd photograph them from, the lighting I'd use, whether I'd use those couples on that bench along with rest of the settings...you get the idea. I fell in love with this green-sea-weed-algae-thing that float in clumps at the edge of the stone railings where harbour waves crash and burn {well..not burn but that's a saying I picked up from the simpsons}.
At one point I stopped to see those green algaes and had to talk to a Greek guy. He was really old, and recently stuffed his back in an accident, hence he comes here to walk/exercise. He was telling me about European and Asian students who pay high fees to study in Australia and how this is a secret business of the Government {which mind you is not a secret anymore}. Our short encounter came to an end and I had to go on. So I bid {what's the past tense for this?} farewell.
I walked on. When I saw this old-but-built guy running in the opposite direction, I swear I felt like Mr. Forrest Gump. I realised that everything I dream to be/do, which I can't ever do, I imagine. I want to leave home like Buddha, which will never happen as my family has me in a stronghold and I need more than a job overseas to break through this-- So I have to resort to thinking that I am Buddha running around places. {or bunk uni and go off alone to think some stuff through}.
Anyway, I really should finish this boring bunking story. Just some quick highlights. I found a nice grassy spot under the sun and slept for a bit. I walked back to the front entrance, while doing so I came across this cutest 4 year old kid with glasses, who wanted fish, chips and mayonaise for lunch. I asked this guy at the front entrance (who works under an umbrella taking money for train-tours) the time. When I was walking in front of the Harbour station, I bought a satire-political-australian-magazine for $4 called 'The Big Issue'. The fantastic thing about this magazine is that it's only ever sold by the homeless- those who cannot find jobs to make ends meet. The guy I bought it off was so cheerful. He asked me if I thought it was really sunny to be out walking around. I grabbed a Chicken Burger to eat which was the same price as the water I had earlier. I stupidly asked the bus driver if I was punching my ticket in the right amount. Slept some more on the bus. And here shall end my boring recount-of-my-days.
I had to drop off an assignment before 10 am at Upper Campus, which literally murdered my legs and my energy because of the stupid no-good-uni's geographical layout. {More on this some other day.} After coming back down to the Lower Campus, I decided to attend last half hour of 9 am maths lecture. Having done that, I decided to attend my 10 am tutorial because they mark the roll and I was absent in the last tute. At exactly 11 am, I couldn't take it anymore. I was falling asleep in maths tute and feeling low and depressed {to be covered later}. I met Matt on the way, who asked what I had then, to which I said that I was going home. He looked surprised because we still had another five hours of classes left.
I headed for the bus stop opposite my-house-taking-bus-stop. I have a place. It's been my place ever since I thought of having a place. It's my get-away place. It's my thinking place. It's my most-memory-contained place. It's where I've taken my friends [they don't know that it's my place though]. It's where you get the best view of the harbour, the opera house, the harbour bridge, the botanical garden, the ships, the waves...
This time however, I walked past my place because a whole bunch of police-people were there and I needed peace. Then I thought why not just hang out at the botanical garden. It's H-U-G-E. After living here for seven/eight years, I still haven't seen most parts of this garden. {Then again, what else is there to see other than trees, plants, fountain-y-thingy-s, more trees, flowers, grass, trees..} The view is awsome though. The harbour surrounds the outer rim of the whole garden, a bit like a peninsula. Before entering the gate I bought a bottle of mineral water {which tastes like crap} from a little drink-station under umbrellas. I must have looked real shit because the guy kept looking at me {and he was Indi/Bangali}. The stupid drink cost me $3, which is a lot for a bottle of water. {Only because the store was right infront of the Opera House}. I realised this guy probably had the best job. All he did was just sit there. The tourists didn't seem to want any drinks and given the over-price of things, I didn't think anyone would. {Then again, I did..}
So I set off with my bag on one shoulder, a shawl in one hand and the mineral water in the other (hand). The sun was up, it wasn't so windy and definitely warmer than it was in the morning. I started walking. It seemed as if I was the only one because everyone around me were either running, jogging, walking or in between. I would pass a certain point and glance at the harbour and realise that I should become a hobby-photographer. I diverted my thoughts to find particular things I'd photograph, the angle I'd photograph them from, the lighting I'd use, whether I'd use those couples on that bench along with rest of the settings...you get the idea. I fell in love with this green-sea-weed-algae-thing that float in clumps at the edge of the stone railings where harbour waves crash and burn {well..not burn but that's a saying I picked up from the simpsons}.
At one point I stopped to see those green algaes and had to talk to a Greek guy. He was really old, and recently stuffed his back in an accident, hence he comes here to walk/exercise. He was telling me about European and Asian students who pay high fees to study in Australia and how this is a secret business of the Government {which mind you is not a secret anymore}. Our short encounter came to an end and I had to go on. So I bid {what's the past tense for this?} farewell.
I walked on. When I saw this old-but-built guy running in the opposite direction, I swear I felt like Mr. Forrest Gump. I realised that everything I dream to be/do, which I can't ever do, I imagine. I want to leave home like Buddha, which will never happen as my family has me in a stronghold and I need more than a job overseas to break through this-- So I have to resort to thinking that I am Buddha running around places. {or bunk uni and go off alone to think some stuff through}.
Anyway, I really should finish this boring bunking story. Just some quick highlights. I found a nice grassy spot under the sun and slept for a bit. I walked back to the front entrance, while doing so I came across this cutest 4 year old kid with glasses, who wanted fish, chips and mayonaise for lunch. I asked this guy at the front entrance (who works under an umbrella taking money for train-tours) the time. When I was walking in front of the Harbour station, I bought a satire-political-australian-magazine for $4 called 'The Big Issue'. The fantastic thing about this magazine is that it's only ever sold by the homeless- those who cannot find jobs to make ends meet. The guy I bought it off was so cheerful. He asked me if I thought it was really sunny to be out walking around. I grabbed a Chicken Burger to eat which was the same price as the water I had earlier. I stupidly asked the bus driver if I was punching my ticket in the right amount. Slept some more on the bus. And here shall end my boring recount-of-my-days.
Sunday, May 15, 2005
The Best List!
Best Fish-and-Chips:
Sold at UTS (University of Technology, Sydney) food court for $5.50 {only because I don't go to that uni, otherwise it's cheaper}. A handsome amount of chips and a 'big' sized fish. Despite the fact that my own uni-UNSW (rival of UTS with us having the upper hand) offer 'two-big-size' fish, I still like UTSs'.
Best Thai-place:
Pad-Thai at Randwick. It had green tables and wooden chairs- very hip. The Tom-Yum-Goon soup is really really nice with the biggest prawns (sort of uncooked but what the hell.) The lunch is really cheap- $7 for A-LOT of fried rice which can't be finished if one is not starving to death along with complementary Tom-Soup. Downside is that their Satay Sticks are crappy with crappy satay sauce.
Best Biriyani:
Cooked by my mother. I always get the most 'mangsho'. She makes a light not so 'mashla-fied' biriyani which is white in appearance (mostly, not counting the mangsho.) It smells really really good.
Best Pitha:
Bhapa because it's the BEST.
Best Face-Wash:
Clearasil Complete Ice Wash- 150mL. It leaves my skin feeling fresh and tingly and sometimes it's itchy and irritates the skin. Nevertheless, it frees me from pimples (sort-of) and sun-burnt-ness (sort of).
Best Pen:
Black, cheap Pilot pen. It's those clicky-ones. Lasts for a long time and the ink doesn't run or smudge unlike most other ball-point-pens. Actually, it's a tie between the black Staedtler pen I bought the other day for 40 cents.
Best Blank CD's:
Imation (silver) 52x CD-R, 80 min/700 MB. These come in a pack of 10 or 50, with or without CD-case. The 'black-pages' inside looks nicer than most other Blank-CD's. Not so famous as the Sony ones (another reason why it's the best.)
Best Expression:
You suck! This term has many (okay, maybe 2 or 3) meanings. The person who is exposed to the expression is left (at times) confused as to which meaning was intended.
Best MSN nick:
' Tumi amar doctor hobe ... Ami bhalo hote chai ... ' <-- translation (for foreign people who reads my blog{actually there are none}) ' Do you want to be my doctor ... I want to get well ... ' {Does anyone else find this nick as funny as I do??}
Best satire magazine:
Tharunka published at our Uni. It's hilarious as hell. A bunch of commie-cynics and some right-wingers tackle important (!) political issues. Random thoughts on periods, weed, drinking, subcontinental-curry-boys, Bob Dylan stuff can also be seen. [The best part is the treasurers editorial-thingy, whom I have a crush on and thinking of joining him to help out with the Union/Guild treasury-duties].
Best Super-hero:
Hack-Ass. He is the UNSW superhero and every three weeks he engages in daring-thingys. He claims to have really-really big reproductive organs (balls), hence he is able to do the things he does. Hack-Ass hides himself under a yellow mask and wears not under-pants but shorts. He is a hero to all the student body on campus. 'Every single woman and homosexual males swoon over him'- or he claims.
Best place to sit on my campus:
A place called the 'Naked-Lady-Lawn', where a statue of a lady lying naked on a slab of concrete surrounded by grass can be seen. (hence the name.) I've never actually sat there myself. But I intend to because it's the best place to sit on campus.
Best Excuse to snatch the Internet off siblings:
Telling them that I have an assignment to do (which I do) and end up only finishing 1/50 part of it. Side advantages include, I get to finish updating my blog, MSN-ing throughout the whole time, catch up on some imsomniac-experiences and so forth.
Best way to waste time when bored:
Make up lists that are of no value.
Best unoriginal idea:
Making up stupid lists which are biased and filled with lame-attempted-sarcastic-humour.
Best way to update a blog:
Make up lists that are worthless, which most people skim-read rather than paying close attention.
Sold at UTS (University of Technology, Sydney) food court for $5.50 {only because I don't go to that uni, otherwise it's cheaper}. A handsome amount of chips and a 'big' sized fish. Despite the fact that my own uni-UNSW (rival of UTS with us having the upper hand) offer 'two-big-size' fish, I still like UTSs'.
Best Thai-place:
Pad-Thai at Randwick. It had green tables and wooden chairs- very hip. The Tom-Yum-Goon soup is really really nice with the biggest prawns (sort of uncooked but what the hell.) The lunch is really cheap- $7 for A-LOT of fried rice which can't be finished if one is not starving to death along with complementary Tom-Soup. Downside is that their Satay Sticks are crappy with crappy satay sauce.
Best Biriyani:
Cooked by my mother. I always get the most 'mangsho'. She makes a light not so 'mashla-fied' biriyani which is white in appearance (mostly, not counting the mangsho.) It smells really really good.
Best Pitha:
Bhapa because it's the BEST.
Best Face-Wash:
Clearasil Complete Ice Wash- 150mL. It leaves my skin feeling fresh and tingly and sometimes it's itchy and irritates the skin. Nevertheless, it frees me from pimples (sort-of) and sun-burnt-ness (sort of).
Best Pen:
Black, cheap Pilot pen. It's those clicky-ones. Lasts for a long time and the ink doesn't run or smudge unlike most other ball-point-pens. Actually, it's a tie between the black Staedtler pen I bought the other day for 40 cents.
Best Blank CD's:
Imation (silver) 52x CD-R, 80 min/700 MB. These come in a pack of 10 or 50, with or without CD-case. The 'black-pages' inside looks nicer than most other Blank-CD's. Not so famous as the Sony ones (another reason why it's the best.)
Best Expression:
You suck! This term has many (okay, maybe 2 or 3) meanings. The person who is exposed to the expression is left (at times) confused as to which meaning was intended.
Best MSN nick:
' Tumi amar doctor hobe ... Ami bhalo hote chai ... ' <-- translation (for foreign people who reads my blog{actually there are none}) ' Do you want to be my doctor ... I want to get well ... ' {Does anyone else find this nick as funny as I do??}
Best satire magazine:
Tharunka published at our Uni. It's hilarious as hell. A bunch of commie-cynics and some right-wingers tackle important (!) political issues. Random thoughts on periods, weed, drinking, subcontinental-curry-boys, Bob Dylan stuff can also be seen. [The best part is the treasurers editorial-thingy, whom I have a crush on and thinking of joining him to help out with the Union/Guild treasury-duties].
Best Super-hero:
Hack-Ass. He is the UNSW superhero and every three weeks he engages in daring-thingys. He claims to have really-really big reproductive organs (balls), hence he is able to do the things he does. Hack-Ass hides himself under a yellow mask and wears not under-pants but shorts. He is a hero to all the student body on campus. 'Every single woman and homosexual males swoon over him'- or he claims.
Best place to sit on my campus:
A place called the 'Naked-Lady-Lawn', where a statue of a lady lying naked on a slab of concrete surrounded by grass can be seen. (hence the name.) I've never actually sat there myself. But I intend to because it's the best place to sit on campus.
Best Excuse to snatch the Internet off siblings:
Telling them that I have an assignment to do (which I do) and end up only finishing 1/50 part of it. Side advantages include, I get to finish updating my blog, MSN-ing throughout the whole time, catch up on some imsomniac-experiences and so forth.
Best way to waste time when bored:
Make up lists that are of no value.
Best unoriginal idea:
Making up stupid lists which are biased and filled with lame-attempted-sarcastic-humour.
Best way to update a blog:
Make up lists that are worthless, which most people skim-read rather than paying close attention.
Saturday, May 14, 2005
Dilemma-Series: Regarding (My) Name(s)!
Okay, so I have a long name. While most kids' have two parts to their names [first and last name{also known as family name}], I am stuck with something that goes like this " Shaolee Jafrin Zaman orofe Shuchi ". On a side note, one very very very cool name belongs (rather belonged) to my mama. His name used be Fateh Ali Shah, which was changed to Shanchar Mahmood when he started school. I guess, it can be seen why mama would want his name changed at that age. He does regret it now though.
Back to my name-story. First of all, following a tradition that you must have a 'bhalo naam' and a 'daak naam' is where all the name-business started. Hence Shaolee Jafrin Zaman is my 'bhalo naam'. Actually, my 'bhalo naam' is Shaolee Jafrin. 'Zaman' was later added in my immigration passport to show that I'm a 'daddy's girl'. I don't know what Jafrin means and my father's last name is falsely Zaman [because following the family name trend, his name should have been 'Mridha']. I do know that Shaolee is a Chinese flower [unheard by the Chinese for some reason]. My mother is/was a great fan of Masud Rana books, and one-day stumbled upon this particular word. I guess, she had this sort of a motherly dream that one day she'll name her kid [daughter] Shaolee. So there you go, wasn't that an interesting story. [On a different note, I want to name (daak-naam-wise) my daughter either Kanna or Shuha.]
But, it doesn't end there. Let's now talk about my 'daak naam'. Originally, my name was meant to be Mohima [please don't think of the Bollywood actress, she was unheard of back then]. Somehow, no-one liked it. { Here's a trivial information about me -- when I was born, they called me 'Baby' <-- as in Baby-Naznin for the lack of any name ideas. } Anyway, I was named Shuchi from RobindraNath-s 'Esho He Boishakh' song. The word (Shuchi) means 'Pobitro' or 'Pure' which later to many became 'Index' since they started adding a 'Potro' to it's (Shuchi's) tail. They'd spell Shuchi in a wrong way and it'd pee me off. I have been called Shuji for countless of days and quite frankly, there are many many many people out there of Bangladeshi-origin, who cannot pronounce this name. I am called Shusi everytime I go to dadu-bari. Oh yes, did I mention, I was called Shushi countless of times as well? Having this name also meant that people automatically assume I'm hindu and start saying 'Nomoshkar'. [Actually, even with Shaolee, people try to see the 'Chinese' in me <- Shao Lee. Not to mention the bloody Shaolin-Monks.]
I've lost my train of thought now due to a brief session of talking-ness-with-the-sibling.
So there you have it. If anyone makes anymore comment about who is the egg and who is the chicken, I will scream. [By that I actually meant who-is-Shaolee-and-who-is-Shuchi business.]
Back to my name-story. First of all, following a tradition that you must have a 'bhalo naam' and a 'daak naam' is where all the name-business started. Hence Shaolee Jafrin Zaman is my 'bhalo naam'. Actually, my 'bhalo naam' is Shaolee Jafrin. 'Zaman' was later added in my immigration passport to show that I'm a 'daddy's girl'. I don't know what Jafrin means and my father's last name is falsely Zaman [because following the family name trend, his name should have been 'Mridha']. I do know that Shaolee is a Chinese flower [unheard by the Chinese for some reason]. My mother is/was a great fan of Masud Rana books, and one-day stumbled upon this particular word. I guess, she had this sort of a motherly dream that one day she'll name her kid [daughter] Shaolee. So there you go, wasn't that an interesting story. [On a different note, I want to name (daak-naam-wise) my daughter either Kanna or Shuha.]
But, it doesn't end there. Let's now talk about my 'daak naam'. Originally, my name was meant to be Mohima [please don't think of the Bollywood actress, she was unheard of back then]. Somehow, no-one liked it. { Here's a trivial information about me -- when I was born, they called me 'Baby' <-- as in Baby-Naznin for the lack of any name ideas. } Anyway, I was named Shuchi from RobindraNath-s 'Esho He Boishakh' song. The word (Shuchi) means 'Pobitro' or 'Pure' which later to many became 'Index' since they started adding a 'Potro' to it's (Shuchi's) tail. They'd spell Shuchi in a wrong way and it'd pee me off. I have been called Shuji for countless of days and quite frankly, there are many many many people out there of Bangladeshi-origin, who cannot pronounce this name. I am called Shusi everytime I go to dadu-bari. Oh yes, did I mention, I was called Shushi countless of times as well? Having this name also meant that people automatically assume I'm hindu and start saying 'Nomoshkar'. [Actually, even with Shaolee, people try to see the 'Chinese' in me <- Shao Lee. Not to mention the bloody Shaolin-Monks.]
I've lost my train of thought now due to a brief session of talking-ness-with-the-sibling.
So there you have it. If anyone makes anymore comment about who is the egg and who is the chicken, I will scream. [By that I actually meant who-is-Shaolee-and-who-is-Shuchi business.]
Monday, April 25, 2005
Coffee!
I actually don't like coffee. I don't understand how some people can find the smell of coffee 'nice' or something special. I mean yes, it does smell nice but you know, flowers smell nice too. What I'm trying to say is, I just don't have that coffee-thing in me. I rarely drink it and when I do, it seems to make me more drowsy than I'd originally be. Apparantly there is a taste difference between Cafe-Latte and Capaccino- well apart from the choc-powder and frothy cream in capaccino, they taste the same to me. In fact given a taste test, I wouldn't be able to tell the difference between tea and coffee.
I would like to be a coffee-o-holic though. This is very much like my will to become a chain-smoker along with an alcoholic. It must be the people I've idolised- their morning-wake-up-coffee-with-a-cigarette appeal to me. Everytime someone lights up a cigarette, I get the urge to take up smoking. Actually, the only thing that's stopping me is the fact I'm still job-less and buying ciggies with parents money seems a bit weird to me. Similarly, when I walk past any coffee shop, namely Starbucks, I have the urge to sit myself inside and sip coffee while I think of world politics or philosophy or just not think at all. I don't end up doing either of them of course because that's just not me. I can never-ever-ever distinguish between coffee neither will it ever smell anything special.
I have a really short story with my first coffee experience. I was under the illusion that I could stay awake for a long-long time. Getting bored I called my friend at 2 am. The plan was to wake the friend up in the middle of a long-sound-sleep. So that didn't work. My friend was wide awake and picked up the phone after three rings. After whining for ten minutes, I said, I drank coffee so I can't sleep so I called you... an bla-bla.
I admit the story is nothing special. The reason I remember is simply because that was the first time I've drank coffee bought with my own money from McCafe- part of McDonalds where I worked. Hell, that was around three years ago. Yep, I am pathetic.
I would like to be a coffee-o-holic though. This is very much like my will to become a chain-smoker along with an alcoholic. It must be the people I've idolised- their morning-wake-up-coffee-with-a-cigarette appeal to me. Everytime someone lights up a cigarette, I get the urge to take up smoking. Actually, the only thing that's stopping me is the fact I'm still job-less and buying ciggies with parents money seems a bit weird to me. Similarly, when I walk past any coffee shop, namely Starbucks, I have the urge to sit myself inside and sip coffee while I think of world politics or philosophy or just not think at all. I don't end up doing either of them of course because that's just not me. I can never-ever-ever distinguish between coffee neither will it ever smell anything special.
I have a really short story with my first coffee experience. I was under the illusion that I could stay awake for a long-long time. Getting bored I called my friend at 2 am. The plan was to wake the friend up in the middle of a long-sound-sleep. So that didn't work. My friend was wide awake and picked up the phone after three rings. After whining for ten minutes, I said, I drank coffee so I can't sleep so I called you... an bla-bla.
I admit the story is nothing special. The reason I remember is simply because that was the first time I've drank coffee bought with my own money from McCafe- part of McDonalds where I worked. Hell, that was around three years ago. Yep, I am pathetic.
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