Untold Tales and Starbucks Coffee

The Novice Cook (Part I)

2009-06-01T14:06:00.000+10:00

[Disclaimer: I realise such entry is laughable at most, given the content is not the confessions of a scorned soul or a broody poet. These days it is a better pursuit for me to find some peace in trivial, happy and optimistic things rather than to contemplate on philosophy. On another note, where does one position the disclaimers?]

The (one and only) joy of being a recent unemployed graduate is the ample time in which to do 'stuff', learn new 'stuff' and think of every possible way to pass the time other than wallowing in self-failure and grief. Years back, free time would be spent on aG, which these days is not the option. It usually takes around 30 minutes (only) to read through every single new posts from the time I last logged on .. which I, like a loser, do. Reading posts about Musicians and their turmoil, Football fans and their utterly idiotic (to me) loyalty, Brazilian waxing, the odd 'shuta-krimi' and not to mention the rights of every minority on this planet.

So I turn to Foodie Blogs. I'm almost tempted to put up a wiki-link on the definition, but I think I'll refrain. I perhaps jumped in the wagon very late, because .. well blogs are just not cool any more, is it? (To my defence, I did join Twitter a few days ago and yet to fully milk all its worth) .. I'll post some of my favourite Foodies at the end of this post. Foodies are generally evil because I find myself constantly thinking about food like a boy who just hit puberty and all their thoughts revolve around sex. I also find myself looking at Food-Photography for hours and hours and take great pleasure in it (I believe the term is coined Food-Porn). I have started watching Hell's Kitchen every Tuesday night religiously (shameful?). Last of all, I find that my own home-food no longer satisfies my palate. Hence one day, I woke up and thought to myself, to hell with the world, I'm going to learn to cook! Currently, the way our household works is that some days, I'll bring home a bunch of ingredients NOT suitable for the curry but the likes of Italian or the odd Moroccan. It really helps when I also have a dietician (because I have been found to be officially under-weight with high cholesterol!) so as to justify (without telling the over-sensitive mother that I can't stand the home-food) the need for me to cook separately some days. Two incredibly negative things have resulted in this new way of life - increased food wastage (because I still can't get the hang and feel of what's under-cooked, cooked and over-cooked among many other reasons) and I find that the mother's kitchen itself is incredibly insufficient for my needs (we only have two knives and no knife sharpener or a casserole dish or a proper baking dish .. the list is pretty long and it would cost me an arm and leg to actually update the amount of utensils .. so for now, I compromise and compromise heavily).

My partner in crime in no other than the sibling who, surprisingly is more competent in the kitchen. So she usually judges when 'stuff' is cooked. I usually chop 'stuff' and read the instruction out aloud .. which no way is the ideal situation, if I were to actually learn the culinary art. I've attempted to cook pasta for yonks (sp?) and only managed two occasions where it was perfect (i.e. to my liking). The lamb cutlets I make, however, are almost there in terms of .. you know ..

So I lack the basics.

However, with all the time in the world at my disposal, I did browse through the library and found the perfect book! I was flipping through it today .. and yes .. it is the perfect book for beginners! That made me happy and these days I'm hardly ever happy. It's called 'The First-Time Cook' by Sophie Grigson and .. well .. maybe I will review it one day. (Speaking of which, I'm yet to review two of Murakami books and that is depressing). It tells me how to chop 'stuff', cook 'stuff', shop for 'stuff', store 'stuff' and what 'stuff' to have in a kitchen (the fact that you need at least four knives minimum and they must not be cheap).

Something else I use is the Video-Jug web-site and I love it. I learned to 'Roast the Perfect Potatoes' !

On a side note: This the way to 'Hide an Unwanted Erection' for anyone who it might apply to. You can also learn how to 'French Kiss', 'Undo your partner's Bra with one hand' and my personal favourite 'How to make your breasts look bigger'.

I'll end this long and boring entry with the link to one of my favourite Foodie-Blog.

All I need now is a motto to cook by.

Veronika Decides to Die

2009-03-22T13:33:00.002+11:00

I must confess - I tend to like pretty much anything from trashy Mills&Boon to pretentious Salman Rushdie/Dostoevsky. Anything at all, as long as it leaves me feeling it was worth the read or if it touches a special chord somewhere within (mostly the heart, but I suppose the nether-regions for selected Mills&Boons). The point I'm trying to make is .. an author need not put a great deal of effort for me to like their books.

Enter Paulo Coelho. I absolutely hate this guy. Late last year, I had the privilege of reading 'Veronika Decides to Die' courtesy of a friend who loves him and sent me this book via air-mail (all the way from NZ) and I hated it. How this guy is a millionaire (or is Coelho a billionaire? The Internet is capped, so I'm not able to check on Google either) is beyond my comprehension. No, I take it back .. I think I know exactly why this guy is a freaking billionaire. Here starteth my review (of the book).

A Brief Synopsis:

Young girl who has everything going well for her decides to end her life but finds herself stranded in a mental hospital (or something like that) alive and kicking. Girl is told she has five days (more or less) until her heart stops beating. Girl realises value of life (and wants to live with a renewed energy) and the readers realise it was all a lie - the girl was used as an experiment whereupon she was lied to and told she only had a few days to live, so that when that anticipated death does not occur her life force will be renewed and she will continue to live her life believing it was a miracle gifted by god and it was her destiny to .. live (with another fellow depressed Prince living in the asylum .. in front of whom she masturbates thrice climaxing all three times).

[I think I would watch the movie (yes! they are making a movie out of this book starring Sarah Michelle Geller) just for the masturbating scene .. should it be allowed on screen].

What I found this book to be is nothing but a preachy-know-it-all-snobbery of a novel where the author spends all his time preaching (worse than your average organised religion folks) and preaching and preaching - how life should be, why it should be so. I might as well have picked up the Quran and read that instead. Coelho is simply more of a Pope than an author. The book felt like a pretentious crap that shoved its 'life ideal and philosophies' down my throat until I choked and spat out in disgust.

I don't pretend to understand life's blacks and whites or even the greys and neither should a literary work. I've grown accustomed to the simple fact that books are there to enlighten you and make you think .. it is not a self help guide where all the answers are churned out. So when an author comes in to establish that he knows it all, that he is the Messiah who has all the answers is nothing but an insult to .. well I don't know exactly what .. but I was furious.

Of course I understand why Coelho is popular. People are brainless morons or one in the making. The laziness takes hold and fuck all that spending time thinking about a book .. let's all read crap that already provides easy philosophies and easy answers to life .. Oh Coelho, you are the greatest, please do all the thinking for me and write more of those crap you call literary works and in turn, I shall contribute just a little bit more to your Billions.

Dance, Dance, Dance

2008-10-09T23:50:00.002+11:00

I'm not entirely sure why I'm so so so in love with Murakami. He is not the greatest writer this era has to offer. I've read (just about) enough literature to know that. Murakami doesn't really use hard vocabulary (that I gather from the translations, as I cannot read his works in original Japanese) or even intricate sentence structure. In fact, everything about his books (the ones I've read) are .. just imperfect. Phillip once told me that the more you read his things, the more they would bleed into each other, ie. you'll find yourself reading similar things.

Despite all that, I'm enjoying my Murakami phase every little bit.

The latest book I finished (which took me an awful lot of time) was Dance Dance Dance. Unfortunately, I didn't know there was a prequel to this piece (which after I found out, I bought .. just today in fact. The Murakami books are JUST perfect. The way they look - the cover, the illustration, the back sleeve, the fonts, the way Haruki Murakami is written ..), so .. it's like .. I know how it ends for the un-named narrator without knowing his roots.

It seems stupid to talk about Dance Dance Dance a second time since I'd already talked about it in another blog. But baby, I'm in the mood for writing.

Majority of the reading had been spent on buses to and from work and uni. Also, the Botanical Gardens along with a few Kent-Blues. No, I don't really smoke .. it was just one of those things. Start of Spring, sun-baking in a park with gorgeous views, Murakami and cigarettes. One day, I would like to get an apartment right in front of the bridge, the opera house and the botanical gardens - spend quiet times with a book and a glass of red wine. (Mmm .. I seem to really love red wine too .. a new acquired thing .. must have been that cheese and wine night thing at Sydney Uni. As I say, all I dream of is a soul mate and red wine). I fall in love with Sydney everytime I venture out to Circular Quay.

The Review:

It didn't occur to me for a long time that the narrator's name was never revealed. So, I'm guessing that I was really really sucked into the book. Which is odd because I don't ever recall reading a huge chunk in one sitting. I took my time with it .. like how you would with wine (maybe that's why I can't do straight shots .. so much of life still unlived and I'm turning twenty-two next week .. it's depressing). The plot wasn't exactly this intricate maze of ... maze .. but the unravelling .. was just so incredibly sexy (which is true for most of his novels in-my-humble-opinion). I remember reading Kafka on the Shore and thinking how much it reminded me of the whole Moroccan slow cooking thing .. well .. not the best analogy .. but one of my greatest love happens to be couscous and Moroccan food (and Moroccan tea and their traditional tea-cups .. speaking of tea, I must blog about T-2 one day).

I'm doubtful whether the book had a happy ending. Though it's implied that he .. unknots his life and gets back into the wheel of life, somehow I didn't buy it. Or I didn't want to believe it. Dance Dance Dance was definitely not as .. trippy as Kafka. I always wonder about the grubby pubs in Japan, whether they really play La Boheme and Bach like Murakami always implies. (Which is why I'll be heading to Japan end of next year, given a few financial kinks and life-difficulties somehow work out). Behind all the pretentious references to things I consider cool .. there is never any deep philosophical pretention that I find absolutely unbearable .. adding to the list of things I love about Murakami's books.

.. I've just realised how incredibly attractive Robert Downey Jr is.

.. And I end here.

Kafka on the Shore - a review?

2008-03-19T23:49:00.003+11:00

It took three years to join the bandwagon and read Kafka on the Shore. It took even longer to get started on Mr. Murakami. Apparently, he has been 'the-in-thing' for a while now. I discovered him around six months ago, and finally read his stuff four weeks ago (and finished Kafka on the Shore two days ago). Despite the fact that the book is very much sexually charged (which in turn has made me feel sexually depressed - not the best of feelings one can have), it was .. a good read. Here is my take on it (not that anyone cares post-hype).

When a book is translated (in this case from Japanese), you have to wonder how true to the original was the translation. Did the author really mean to be so crude when he referred to the protagonists' privates as his 'cock' or did he actually mean 'penis'. Structurally, there is a huge difference between the two words- the mood, the vibe changes quite dramatically depending on which word you choose. That's something I will never know unless I became fluent in Japanese and read the actual version. (In fact, the sibling is becoming fluent in Japanese, and I have a feeling that this is actually pushing out all the algebra out of her brain - it happens!).

Mr. Murakami is well-read and you don't need to Wikipedia to tell you that. Yes, I know everyone has heard of the Oedipus Complex and everyone has their own take on Freud and almost everyone is street-smart about their German Philosopher Nietzsche - which makes this book so wonderfully readable. Thanks largely to contemporary literature era it's alright to make constant references to other diverse (and sometimes pretentious) fields. Murakami tells us about his take on Bach, Beethoven, Schumann, the Greek tragedies - almost every page has his interpretation on .. something someone else has done and said. I Googled (Google has come so far that we've turned it into a verb - that is true accomplishment!) Murakami, and this is precisely why people (critics, general public) love him and why I'm a few inches short of loving him.

I have to admit it's a great literary tool, something I automatically do in my own .. dabble into words. I realise how pretentious I sound.

I've written nothing about the book so far and dare call this a review? This is where critics come in handy- they always have just the right words. To put it in plain words .. I've read very few books where the progression and 'unraveling' has been handled so delicately well. It would be wonderful (I assume) to make love to Kafka.. no, actually it would be wonderful to have him dream that he is making love to me (but we won't go into any details on how he rapes his sister in his dreams).

The Boy Named Crow!

2008-03-17T17:36:00.003+11:00

Happy New Year!

The new year didn't start with a bang .. as usual. The new year didn't bring any sweet promises of love, lust and happiness .. as usual. There were no Y2K bug to look forward to (perhaps Z3L bug?). Legend has it, that on the eve of the new year, whatever one ends up doing last, will be what one's life will be filled with the rest of the new year. So I purposely went to watch the fireworks with the sibling and our uncle-aunt's soon-to-be-proper family. Let's hope that the rest of 2008 is filled with sitting around under the scorching sun for hours followed by fireworks .. and of course, tuna filling between whole-meal breads.

I promised myself that I would write. Since this promise doesn't come with any consequences for breaking the promise, I think I'm fine!

Just updating because I'm bored. Updates on life in general:

- The parents own a huge 46 inch Bravia LCD TV with a wicked 5-speaker surround system as of last month and it is on ALL the freaking time and it's loud.
- I'm still at university STILL finishing off a Bachelors' Degree in a subject I shall have no use for in the future.
- The new hair-cut is awfully similar to when I was 12 years old- decreasing my perceptual age from 15 to 10.

Pins & Needles!

2007-11-17T00:02:00.000+11:00

It just doesn't get any better than this.
Fiona Apple ~ I Want You (Elvis Costello cover).

Lyrics

Pinhole Camera!

2007-10-08T22:57:00.000+10:00

(Did I use this title before?)

I found the concept to be quite amazing and it works (unlike so many things in this world). It's a basic tin can with a lid (think Milo tins or Red Cow powder milk tins) with a very small hole drilled on the circular surface. All that needs to be done then, is to put a photography paper in the tin (done in the dark room, shiny side facing the tiny hole, shut the lid tight), cover the hole completely with masking tape or similar .. and that's that - you have a pinhole camera. On a bright sunny day (the kind I'm missing right now after a winter that arrived way too early and still lingers) the pinhole is taken outside and placed in front 'something' - leveled with the tin-hole. The tape (or similar) is stripped off and the paper inside is exposed (the time I can't remember- somewhere between 10 seconds to 15 or else the paper is burnt charcoal once processed) and tape is put back. Once in the dark room the paper is taken out. The developing process for pre-historic (surely, this is the age of Photoshop and other manipulations. A bit like the movement towards capitalism) black & white photography is quite messy (but fun, sort of like making your own shelf without the IKEA cut-out pieces- end result isn't certain .. then again, at our house, the end result of an IKEA DIY anything never has a happy ending)- Developer, Stop, Fixer, Water .. (Steps!) Happy times with chemicals! Nearly six months of photography classes (forty minutes a week as an elective in High School) was enough for me to realise that like many things this was not my forte.

Black Rebel Motorcycle Club has a tendency to use a lot of second person in their lyrics ('So how's it going to feel/When you don't know what is real/You tell yourself it's love, and tear yourself apart'). I say that because I've never actually read a book concentrating heavily on second person perspective (and those 'Choose Your Own Adventure' books do not count) and always wondered what it could be like ... but then again, one could utilise everything to get as many perspectives they can squeeze in. For some reason, I can't get my second person usage to sound sophisticated. Here's one I prepared earlier:

You uttered those words in midst of Just like Heaven and for a moment I questioned how sober you really were. It was the perfect notion of the modern day love most boys and girls clung to at the time. I was pro-choice while you were an anti-abortionist. You hated my carefree ways and I never liked your shoes. I termed us incompatible and you thought we were complements.

"But we loved each other" ... and that was the one common denominator we could both offer.

(Two star crossed lovers with nothing in common. Sir William did indeed make the right decision. Star crossed lovers poisoned; presumed dead in each other's arms: Short life span is what makes a love so grand)

We fought over movies (Incest or not Old Boy was still a brilliant portrayal of revenge), books and sports, always leading to making love and we would cuddle longer than most (the average being anywhere between 5 to 20 seconds). You never did remember my birth date (though you still remembered you previous lovers') and at times I resented the fact that there were no songs for me (or was there?).

You uttered those dreaded words in midst of Summer Skin and for a moment I was sure it was a very cruel joke. It was the perfect end to the modern tale of love- boredom and a betrayal on the side. I was exhausted while you looked worse for wear. You hated my neglecting ways and I never liked your tone. I termed us incompetent and you thought we were stale.

"So here's a toast to our dying love" … and that was the one common denominator we could both offer.

Blues and Greens !

2007-09-06T00:12:00.000+10:00

' You drove me, nearly drove me out of my head
While you never shed a tear
Remember, I remember all that you said
Told me love was too plebeian
Told me you were through with me and
Now you say you love me
Well, just to prove you do
Come on and cry me a river, cry me a river
I cried a river over you '

- Julie London ~ Cry me a river

It's just one of those moods ..

Funk, Trunk and Junk?

2007-08-30T10:43:00.000+10:00

Over time I've grown accustomed to saving up various garbage we like to call 'memory'. Bus passes, movie tickets, old exercise books, old text books etc.etc. It's kind of genetic (which is the recent and popular excuse for many things these days - obese and don't want to exercise, well you must have a fat gene. Psychopathic- well it was just in your gene to be evil. I guess this is a moving away from 'you-have-a-choice' trend we used to have months before)- A middle class inherited trait I think. The thing where you save up every last piece of everything in the hope that someday they will come in use. They never do and usually I end up buying new ones at the time of need anyway (hence why we tend to have around 2/3 dozens of unused Christmas cards, 2/3 dozens of unused pens bought from $2 shops and lots and lots of mouse pads.

I have old birthday cards dated back to 1996 and I don't have the heart to throw them out. I have also kept some things from an ex-lover of two months and don't have the heart (rather the time and the motivation) to throw them out. The contents of my 'memory-drawer' is the ideal place for someone to procrastinate and that's what usually happens during the examinations. Oh well .. maybe it's time to throw some out. The big question I was faced with during the Dhaka-vacation was what to do with ex-lover's stuff we sometimes/usually/often hold onto. I couldn't answer due to lack of substantial experience. I suggested burning- dramatic but effective nevertheless. Why shouldn't we make a ritual (consisting of fire) out of the fact that we've moved on.

The newfound policy should be (for everyone) to not store anything more than a year. So throw out those love letters and poems and cards and the teddy bear!

The Importance of Making Appointments!

2007-08-01T15:31:00.000+10:00

[No .. this is NOT the promised extravagant 100th post .. I decided to scrap that since the readership never reaches more than two people]

Approximately four hours is how long I waited at the medical centre to get checked up by a practitioner. Of course, let's not blame the busy doctors (five of them on duty in fact) or the receptionists parked on their behind all day long organizing (!) patients to their rightful doctors- I blame myself. How stupid would I have to be to think that I could ever see a doctor without an appointment (which I usually make anyway- so why not this time?).

Turns out that the boils on my feet contracted from Bangladesh (more specifically from Middle Badda) which resemble genital herpes are viral, hence it's merely an waiting game 'till the boils dry up by themselves.

Four hours and I'm back home with having missed breakfast, a three hour lab (where attendance counts to at least 10% of the course), no treatment and a firm believer (and an 'advocator') of appointments. I did however manage to get a doctor's certificate for the past three days for missed classes which could possibly save me from tiny mark deductions.

I have only one thing to say- I miss Dhaka.

Eye Candy!

2007-06-21T13:38:00.000+10:00

Okay, this isn't my 100th post because I've just deleted one to make room for this .. Mmm .. I was procrastinating on YouTube (as usual) and I just had to had to had to post these .. There are two men in this whole wide world I'd like to rip apart and ... stuff .. and one of them is Daniel Craig. I can't believe I disliked him at the beginning (and now I'm just plain obsessed .. damn!)

Anyway ..

.. and some more, very very old interviews:

! Pure Bliss !

Chuvinism & The Indian-subcontinent

2007-06-21T00:35:00.000+10:00

Very recently (just yesterday in fact), I was told by this one individual (Dara - a 26 year old male from Calcutta) to get my anger down or I shall be subjected to his rape. This was left in my comment box 32 times (which I individually cleaned up due to the ample time I have on my hands) :

' I'LL FUCK U 'BRUTALLY'??? so that U'LL GET UR ANGER DOWN!! '

Is it then a wonder why so many women in our rich-cultured-Indian subcontinent (or so the Western tourism tells me everyday) are regularly abused/raped/assaulted as a child, as a teenager and as a wife?

It is natural to blame lack of education for such acts (here in the west, crime of any kind is usually attributed to no education/under education and poverty). But lets not blame poverty for the reason a man would come home and beat/rape his wife, molest his daughters and assault his mother (he is more likely to stab someone and flee with their money as a result of poverty, this author thinks). Lets not blame lack of education/under education for such acts either, because you only need to see this 'Dara' example - who is in fact conventionally educated and holds a decent job APPARENTLY in the science industry and the mentality he holds to nullify that blame. So, what then do you blame for such behaviour?

Frankly, I have no idea. Perhaps 'Dara' can tell us. Perhaps 'Dara' can also tell us exactly why the thought of using sex to dominate over another person's emotions and their expression is so predominant in an Indian-subcontinental male. Perhaps 'Dara' can also answer exactly what kind of education he was given by his parents, his society and his educational institution. Perhaps 'Dara' could also be kind enough to enlighten everyone as to how he treats his family real life (I am assuming that he has a family and a life outside the walls of this Internet) - whether he rapes his wife at nights, molests his cousins and touches his nieces (and nephews - because these mentality people are usually not choosy - as long as they have their feel) inappropriately.

Unfortunately, there are a lot of 'Dara's in this world and what's even more scary is the fact that these 'Dara's roam around in the REAL world touching/molesting/raping/assaulting REAL women. While the 'Dara' in my case study might just be a mere coward in real life wanting to show off his male-dominance on the Internet domain, the real danger is out there - effecting many females all around the globe. It is not very nice to realize in the tenth grade that the things your uncle did to you when your breasts were just budding was in fact sexual abuse and that uncle just happens to be your favourite one- happily married (a subject still debatable) with a daughter of his own.

I am not a preacher. I am not a social critic. I am in fact nothing special. I don't say things that are new or revolutionizing. I merely try to put my observations into context. I am grateful because I have never really had to deal with 'low-life' males such as 'Dara'. I am grateful I have men in my life with whom I can discuss BBC programming, Germaine Greer, the social changes needed in Dhaka, Acoustic Alchemy, the weather etc.etc. I am grateful for all the men I had encountered with in the past- they have taught me a lot and a lot of my habits I've picked up from them (good habits .. not daily masturbation to pornography). It's a shame we have a lot of individuals like 'Dara' who defiles the male reputation and defiles the Indian sub-continent culture.

It is extremely sad and I never thought I would do something like this - but I was forced to enable comment moderation today. I guess it takes all kinds to make this world.

On a very very very happy note .. My 100th post is due soon and I'm planning something special. Not that it matters what I do with my 100th (with a readership reaching a measly four people) but still. Let's hope my spirits are up and of course it'll have to be after the finals. Three more to go, the wait is unbearable.

Of Pie & Pizza!

2007-05-24T12:56:00.000+10:00

Despite having (and constantly making up) so many lists, surprisingly I don't have a list of favourite books. Sometimes when I browse through other blogger's profiles and such - I see them listing a whole lot of books in that 'favourite books' part and then I check mine .. and it's void of any names. I think I could possibly say that I am .. well read .. as in I've read my share of great novels of all times .. (there are a few I've been meaning to read, and have them at home .. but never got around to it) .. yet when it comes to listing them, nothing comes to my head. [This reminds me of this great dialogue from High Fidelity which I won't bother typing].

Anyway, I realised that I can include 'Of Mice and Men' in the list. Now there's always always some stupid reason behind liking something. There have been many books I've hated despite their (good) reputation simply because, the timing was bad. The reason I really like the Steinbeck's Mice and Men is because when I had finished reading it, I remember having the worst kind of depression that lasted for an hour- and I remember one of my friends surprised to hear that I was really really sad over a book.

The crux (oh, I really like this word .. impressive yet non-pretentious) of life is possibly -Timing. Put this factor in everyday life, and you shall also be convinced that timing is everything. The right cues at the right time is essential for all things that happen (and doesn't happen) to us. This is the reason why we lust over Daniel Craig and not Wentworth Miller. This is the reason why we fall in love with someone who really isn't our type yet never fall for that someone who everyone thinks we really should be with. Let's not forget, timing is also the reason why we are even born. Had it been some other sperm entering the egg two milli-milli-seconds late, I could easily have been among the other billions (or however much) that loses the fight (to the finish).

Tomorrow is the deadline for this thing I wanted to enter one of my literature (?!) in. Unfortunately, I haven't actually got anything to submit and feel that it is too late to now transfer it from brain to paper. I am depressed again.

If we counted how many times I've typed the word depression - I bet there's a good chance of that quantity reaching over a thousand. So .. count away!

Procrastinators Guide to Procrastination!

2007-05-17T12:47:00.000+10:00

I think its about time the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders) included procrastination in their recent publication. That way, around two-third of the first-world (developed countries) population would have a mental condition to blame for their lack of concrete achievement in life instead of blaming themselves. On this regard the developing countries (the third-world .. [so what and where the hell are the 'second-world' countries?]) are lucky; Battle through poverty (and conquer) and waa-laa, that's their achievement done. Here in the West, achievement is judged on a different scale and I blame procrastination for most people's failure to achieve anything in life.

So here's a list .. this is how I procrastinate and waste away precious weeks/days/hours/minutes/seconds. Note, that most of my procrastination takes place in front of the computer from the minute I open up a word-document to type up an assignment that's due the next day.

- Checking of all e-mails
- E-Bay
- amaderGaan forum
- MSN
- YouTube
- Various blogs - random, known - everything
- Wikipedia (for things unrelated to the actual assignment)
- Re-naming various folders in the hard-drive, organizing the folders, fixing up tags on MP3's etc.
- Actual physical cleaning up of the room, table- lecture notes etc.
- WRITING AN ENTRY FOR THIS FREAKING BLOG

Senseless in the City!

2007-05-14T11:02:00.000+10:00

Inside I'm panicked. But nothing a good determination can't fix (and I've been trying that for the last three weeks). Emotional dependency is worse than drug dependency methinks, although, the pot-heads can tell me better.

The problem is day-time dreams. The sort of dreams that come to your (sub)conscience head only after you resume back to bed at 8 in the morning. But they are by no means- day-dreaming- when you sit/lie down idly and fantasize about rubbing all sorts of food products on Daniel Craig and then .. .. maybe I shouldn't specify exactly what it is that I idly fantasize about. I'm talking about the proper 'I'm dreaming' - I'm in the middle of my REM sleep and I'm dreaming in black and white.

So anyway, this 'morning-dream' of mine (and I'm having quite a lot these days, almost one everyday, which tells me I should stop the sort of sleep life-cycle I'm leading) wasn't weird. In some sense, yes .. because it was situated at Coles (where I work) and instead of operating the check out registers- we were putting together Christmas gift packs (assortment of puzzle games, Bart Simpson comic books and pens etc). Then at one point (within an hour of my four hour shift) we were finished for the day and I happen to go to the back to see what things I can save for myself and buy later (the whole place looked like my grandmother's house in Dhaka with some modifications of course). After a massive search I came out to the main area and saw my dad sitting on bed, getting his palm read by some guy (he was someone close to my dad I think, can't remember). I asked if he could read my future - my future career, money, love etc. I still remember what he said - in my dream I remember telling myself- well he knows what you're like so telling you what you want to here. (oh! they were great things about the sort of person I really want to be known as and the current state of things with love life).

Anyway, I had a point to this story and I have just lost it. I think the point should be .. you-are-an-obnoxious-self-centred-hater (as in me). Oh well. The most fascinating thing was I was given a black leather bound book (I saw the name clearly, but now can't remember) and was told to read a verse - oh how movie-like!

I really do want to go see a palmist or a tarot card reader person- mmm .. should add that to some sort of a list. (or instead of lists, just go ahead and do it). Here's today's horoscope for Libra:

' The Moon moves through your relationship sector today, triggering a few emotional buttons and heightening your reactions. This is all part of a process that is preparing you for Mars' arrival mid week. It's the things that this draws your attention to that act as a trailer for the main event, with a need to pay attention. Avoid blowing things out of proportion, but don't stick your head in the sand either. '

I have no idea what in the hell the above thing means.

Paris, je t'aime!

2007-05-13T13:07:00.000+10:00

Yes!! One movie crossed off the list. After watching Kill Bill vol. 1 and 2 (vol 2 was an absolute crap, and very unlike Tarantino, more on that some other day), I was way too tired to do an entry on Paris, je t'aime. So here goes. The main deal is this - eighteen directors (from all over) were given around 5 minutes to do a short clip- using Paris' backdrop as inspiration. All the individual snippets then integrated to form - Paris, je t'aime. (Originally I thought this was going to follow the likes of 'Love Actually' .. but yes .. I was wrong .. and I'm glad that I was wrong). It was great to see the different styles, the different story telling, the different Paris .. (but boy, some clips were just RANDOM and downright crap) .. but the pro's outweigh the con's and the more I let each of the individual clips sink in (and then think about the integration as a whole), the more I find new things I like and ... I want to go to Paris. Popular culture has such a bad influence on me that it's not funny anymore.

Since I have plenty of time at hand, I'm going to talk about all eighteen snippets. (It'll be a very long one). [I just wiki-ed the thing and all of a sudden the whole thing makes sense .. each director was given a specific area of Paris (there are 20 sort of divisions referred to as the Arrondissements of Paris) and each snippet's name is named after one of the 20 places or is somehow related. These are just the sort of things we had done in English back in high school .. anyway].

1. Montmarte: I don't know much about the director except he was is this clip himself. Basically, (oh people must see it because describing it (by me) does not do it justice) being the first clip, I forgot some details (not that there is a lot to remember, I think the intention was to show Paris and not so much the characters) except that he was a handsome French-man. It's about those unexpected encounters - he wonders (while parked next to a footpath) why he can't find love in the city of love despite having an 'okay' sense humour and 'okay' looking, when a lady collapses on the sidewalk. The five or so minute clip ends with 'I will wait for you' (she had an appointment and he'd drive her there .. but yeah .. we all know what the 'wait' actually meant).

2. Quais de Seine: Trust Gurinder Chadha to stick to what she knows best. Put a girl from the sub-continent (with a hijab this time) with an insanely cute white boy and waalaa. I wish she'd stop following the same routine every time. As much as we (the friend I went with .. she just happens to a 'hijabi' as well) loved the cute French boy (and vowed we'd move to Paris) I'm just so annoyed at Chadha. The only thing I can praise is her taste in white men- Jonathan Rhys Meyers (Bend it like Beckham) I pine for, Dylan McDermott (Mistress of Spices) is an absolute hottie and Marin Henderson & Daniel Gillies (Bride and Prejudice) weren't all that bad either. [But the French boy in this clip .. such smile .. why do the West have all the good looking men and women?]

3. Le Marais: I can't remember which one this was. So I'm guessing it was .. one of those middle things .. (if it was crap, I would've remembered .. and if it was awesome, I would've remembered).

4. Tuileries: Okay, I read good things about this one since it's by the Coen brothers. I can see the humour but at the same time it was just absurd. I'm not sure if I like it. But I did laugh in the theatre, so the humour factor I hadn't missed.

.... Okay, at this point I'm getting a bit impatient. So I think I'll just stop.

Ignorance is Bliss!

2007-05-01T01:14:00.001+10:00

One of my favourite poem since grade nine.
(Someday I might post the one I wrote in year nine English too).

' How do I love thee? Let me count the ways .. '

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of Being and idle Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
I love thee purely, as they turn for Praise.
I love thee with a passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints! -- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! -- and, if God choose,
I shall love thee better after death.

- Elizabeth Barrett Brown

Tear you from the ceiling ..

2007-04-27T16:37:00.000+10:00

If I had a car ...

... the windows would always be rolled down - winter, summer, autumn and spring. In tunnels and on bridges and when its really windy and perhaps when it's raining (depends).
... the air-conditioning would never be on because car-AC makes me really sick- I get headaches and nausea. (Heater will be on during winter though .. I can't stand the cold).
... there will always be music. The volume depends on the mood. Angry mood is always associated with loud music and speeding.
... only selected people on the front passenger seat. Surprisingly, the sibling makes it in the list.
... maybe I'll take up smoking (depends).

If I was guaranteed a large sum of money from inheritence I ...

... would invest it all in banks and whatever else- ongoing source of money (don't bother with the details) and not work a day in my life.
... study Philosophy or Anthropology or English Literature or Archeology.
... sleep all day and stay up all night.
... buy things I can't and won't ever be able to afford.
... practice black magic and the related mumbo-jumbo.

If I was smart I ...

... would not put off driving lessons.
... would not put off assignments for late nights and last minutes.
... would not write an entry on bloggers at this very moment.
... at least pretend that I cared.
... would not pretend to understand Dali and Monet and Gogh and art (contemporary, post-victorian, pre-victorian, surrealism, impressionism .. whatever other -isms) in general.
... would not expose so much on bloggers to the point where others claim they're able to write a 2000 word essay on Shaolee Jafrin Zaman (though I would be flattered).
... would have done some things very differently- Touched when I had the chance, studied when it was needed, spoken up when I was uncomfortable.
... would pretend to be more responsive- to everything.
... would definitely not talk so much.

Current song on iPod : Blind by Placebo
Still Reading : Chain of Hearts
Movies waiting to be watched : Five - Underworld Evolution, English Patient, Casino Royale, In the Mood for Love and The New World
Crushing on : Brian Molko
Plots for short-stories swimming in head : Four - I know the beginning, I know the end .. but no motivation/inspiration. My muse died in a car-crash?

-Insert Title Here-

2007-03-16T11:04:00.000+11:00

I'm so sick of ..

- Assignments .. can anything be more evil, especially if it's some crap, uninteresting one.
- 'Good Bush', 'Bad Bush' jokes .. they are everywhere .. on t-shirts, on posters, on blogs, give it a bloody rest already.
- Environmental awareness .. where the hell were you when you ruined the ozone in the first place retards?
- Bands .. we have way too many .. welcome to the new trend .. start a freaking band .. let's fuck money and lead a bohemian life, only as long as I can live with my parents before they kick me out.
- Cross-cultural confusion/ABCD/ABCC/whatever else there is .. can we please give it a rest already? Authors dish out crap like this and instantly it's a hit and gets listed as the next potential Booker prize nominee or worst- a Hollywood movie. Once again, identity crises sells and boy, if it's identity crises as a result of globalisation, we have a winner.
- Organic food .. why don't you give me that extra $4 you spend buying organic food (as opposed to what the rest of us buys) and I'll make sure I put it to good use.
- Jehova's Witness preachers .. need I say more?
- Miserable people at the supermarket .. at least be nice that you are not having to pack your own grocery, instead of passing on your misery to us checkouts .. you want misery how-about coming behind the counter and see how it feels to put up with people's crap and laziness?
- Blogs .. now everyone thinks their life is worth putting up in the web-space for people to read .. or better still, everyone thinks they can write ..

... and NO, I am not angst-y ..

Sniff of Romance!

2007-01-22T00:06:00.000+11:00

There are songs that automatically yield a scene/image in my head when I listen to them. I think that happens with everyone more or less. So anyway, every time I hear 'My Funny Valentine', I always imagine a rainy day .. not those crappy wispy rains but proper ones. The kind of rain that replenishes .. everything. I see myself half-sitting on the side railing of the balcony (of my pretend studio apartment), listening to this song in (that very expensive thus never be mine) surround system and just watching the rain fall.

The earliest memory I have of rain is the flood in .. well .. either '88 or '89 .. I remember that the water got into our house and we had to stack the tables and chairs etc. on the bed. I remember being carried around from room to room.

I remember making paper boats and floating them on water during and after rain stopped and the garden was just .. knee deep in water. I liked that house. I liked the people we lived with next door. I remember mama and choto chacchu flirting with Papia aunty from next door. I loved Mishu to bits and God is cruel because He took my soul-mate away when I was just seven years old.

Watching Pan's Labyrinth this afternoon, I was overwhelmed for a while. Ammu used to read to me the Russian folk tales - of Ivan and Baba-Yaga the witch. I remember wanting to be Ivan when I grew up. The books (bangla ones) would write the name as Ee-vaa-n .. Later on (much much later), I heard that name being pronounced at Eye-van and I was in denial for a while, thinking that just can't be. I used to read a lot when I was younger and after fairy tales my reading followed adventure stories. To this day I can safely say that my favourite book of all time, the book I would take to my grave would be 'Treasure Island'. Since I was told today that no, I don't have an adventure bone in my body (and with valid reason, I'm sure), I think it's all justified why I read so much of them in my childhood (sort of like living through someone else's life because you, yourself weren't capable of it). The other day I was reading a list of known folk tales (fairy tales) and realised I never really liked the Brothers Grimm collections (Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella etc.). The nicer ones were by Hans Andersen and his best work is The Little Mermaid. I cried when I read it at nine. In fact I remember crying when Frankenstein's monster killed Victor Frankenstein and then kills himself. I remember crying a lot, for both of them and I hated the feeling. I wonder if I re-read Frankenstein after eleven years whether it'd effect me the same way as did back then. I could write on and on about Little Mermaid though.

Having sex with vampires would not get you pregnant. I never did finish reading Dracula. I was fourteen when I realised that vampires used sex to get their prey and that whole neck biting became a secret erotic bliss (as oppose to horrific when ammu first told me about them).

The reason I could never bring myself to take illegal drugs is precisely all this. My once very wise mama never told me not to take drugs but told me a secret that kept me away from substance abuse. Among other things he (unknown to him) taught me to draw a love heart pierced with an arrow and the blood drips down into a container (the image was drawn by him on a card he gave to Papia aunty .. mama was like .. eighteen then .. Jesus!) .

Hitler Hairdo!

2007-01-05T02:27:00.000+11:00

There's a section in the UMAT (Undergraduate Medicine & Health Sciences Admission Test .. why isn't there two extra letters in that abbreviation?) and that's Empathy. This is the one section I scored the highest since I would almost always pick the right answer in the practice papers. The trick is to pick the one that sounds disengaging yet caring. See the thing is, in this profession you can't care and yet you have to come across as caring. It gets complicated. There's no place for emotions and yet you must be empathetic. I think one of the biggest (or is it 'truest') truths I have ever been told by anyone was Dr. Dallas. 'We don't heal, we don't cure, we change the circumstance. So we're not saints. If you answer 'working in midst of Africa' as the response to why you want to become one in your Medicine Entrant interview, you can be pretty sure you won't be called in for a second one.'

The fucking test was pretty fucking hard though. BUT, like all standardized tests there's a trick to obtain great scores. Of course I never practiced these tricks due to laziness but maybe one day I can sell these tricks .. have like my own thing where I travel from state to state sharing my oh-so-obvious-yet-simple-hence everyone will buy it-secrets --- a bit like those people with tips on how to become a millionaire in three days. Once you know these tricks you become bitter and you realise you're not surrounded by geniuses. I don't think you're all 'that' if you've scored a 160 in an IQ test. I think you are retarded for having mentioned such crap to me in the first place. (OR I'm just annoyed at having a really low IQ score myself .. I don't even fall inside that bell curve). I never liked standardized tests most probably because I was never really good at them. It's some stupid teenage syndrome about how these tests are of no real value and is a tool to boost up ego's of those who know how to memorise or can follow a pattern - a bit like monkeys- while the genuine people fall through the gap and never get anywhere in life. (I am in no way implying that I am one of those genuine people- but I have known people like that and only sticking up for them).

My eyes hurt and my brain too.

Also, Dr. Dallas liked his girls to wear nice skirts to the interview- no dress pants. Apparently that's sexist. I say that's the reality and if a bloody skirt gives that extra point (very similar to men wearing nice suits and going clean shaved) then why not take it. Anyone wanting a career in Medicine should migrate to Australia right away. I hear we have a shortage of doctors over here. Open up your GP's and make a whole bunch of money and buy your third car. But please-please-please don't think you're any more honest than a tax-evading businessman. Remember, you would never want a disease-free society because that'll heavily cut down on the number of cars you might want to own in the future. Anyone else see the irony in this?

(I must one day talk about the father's brother - possibly the only person I have seen in this profession whose bank balance is lower than my own).

Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows!

2007-01-05T00:16:00.000+11:00

'Helen, Helen .. what's the number for 911?'

Sometimes I feel like dialing 911 then I remember our emergency number isn't 911. In fact it's 000. For some reason 911 sounds cooler than 000. It's sort of like how Fuck in British-James-Bond accent sounds hotter than say the American counterpart. Anyone else feels this way?

Apparently one is not supposed to paint their ceiling other then white. So, if I wanted to paint my room red, I would paint all four walls and call it a day. Isn't that weird? I have tried so hard to look into people's homes in movies to see whether their ceilings were painted, but never found any shot that focused on the ceiling. It's almost frustrating. But, if I was to paint my room white, I would still paint the ceiling white .. so .. it's not making any sense. I searched google and it couldn't answer me. I did find a website that gave me the step by step instructions on how to paint my room though. [I'm not really painting my room .. ]

Other mind-numbing ways I have been killing time in the presence of summer holidays :

- Bidding on eBay (it's two Daria TV-movie DVD's and currently I have the highest bid).
- Watching all episodes of Hey! Arnold and Daria.
- Watching DVD's (last night I sat through seven hours straight on the couch, watched Oceans Eleven, Twelve and I, Robot. Oceans really sucked- especially the sequel).
- Trying to start on that summer assignment but failing miserably.
- Sleeping. Sleeping. Sleeping. Average hours of sleep per day has been around 16 hours.

Here's one of my favourite Daria Episodes in three parts courtesy of YouTube.

I want to X-you !

2006-12-25T13:16:00.000+11:00

No .. no .. it's a song .. but I would like to X Daniel Craig.

It's done .. I am 93% compatible with Daniel Craig .. there's this very simple calculation (and about as accurate as counting the menstrual cycle to determine when to have unprotected sex .. [I'm sorry .. that's the only comparison that came into my head]) and .. I am going to outline the steps here with visuals and all .. we used to do this in year 8 maths hence why we never learnt any maths in our life .. so anyway ..

The layout is something like this :

Shaolee Jafrin Zaman Shuchi

L O V E S

Daniel Craig

---------------------------------------------------------------

The next step is to count up all the L's [DO NOT INCLUDE THE 'L' FROM THE 'LOVES' .. it's all the 'L' from the two names, which in this case is 2 (two)] .. and note it down .. then count up all the O's from the two names (there's just one) .. note that number down next to the previous number .. do the same for 'V', 'E' and 'S' .. and note the number in that order .. .. .. .. In essence, the LOVES part serve as the guide for which letters are to be counted and in which order the numbers are arranged .. Oh .. another thing .. in the case where there is no letters (like here we have no 'V' .. you have have to write a 0 .. you should always have a five number sequence) ..

So our next visual is something like this :

Shaolee Jafrin Zaman Shuchi

L O V E S

Daniel Craig

-----------------------------------------------------------

2 1 2 3 2

The next step is to add them in a Fibonacci sequence way .. erm .. so you add the first number and the second number - note that number down .. then add the second number and the third number - note .. then add third to the fourth .. .. and you keep doing that .. taking a new line every time until you end up with a double digit number.

So the next visual is something like this:

Shaolee Jafrin Zaman Shuchi

L O V E S

Daniel Craig

------------------------------------------------------

2 1 0 3 2

3 1 3 5

4 4 8

8 1 2

9 3

Taa-Daa .. The compatibility is 93% .. (please don't ask why we don't add 9 and 3 .. if every time we did that .. no one would ever get any compatibility above 9% ..)

Here's a few more :

Shaolee & Gavin : 47%
Shaolee & John Abraham : 11%
Shaolee & Matt Bellamy : 13%

Hehehehehehehehehehehehehe .. Blaah ..

youTube!

2006-12-20T15:37:00.000+11:00

I love youTube. I love it as much as I love my iPod. I love youTube like a fat kid loves cake. I'm not sure why I'm dedicating a whole entry on youTube .. let's just call it time pass as I have no idea how to spend the time I have on my hands .. (does that sentence even make sense? One of these days I would need to start fresh with the alphabets and move on to sentence construction) ..

I like the sound of typing on a smooth keyboard. (Paaa-paaa .. this is the sound of settling!!!!)

Okay .. I'm really really bored and distracted .. blaah .. focus .. one - two - three ..

So .. youTube .. well .. it's great .. maybe not the greatest thing since bread (and who invented that saying anyway?). I found my beloved Arnold there, I found Daria there .. and I found the clip for Just the way I'm feeling' .. the concert clip .. .. I watch it and try to .. well .. nothing really .. (which reads .. what else but try to find a face .. hehehehehe) ..

Anyway .. here's a list to end this pointless entry ..

10 Songs I'd play if I had a car (not in any order):

- Every You Every Me ~ Placebo .. (Just watch the opening scene from Cruel Intention .. that car .. Ryan Phillips and this song .. total-sex)
- Hysteria ~ Muse
- Onadorer Shontan ~ Cryptic Fate
- Somebody Told Me ~ The Killers
- Cigarette Smoke ~ Arctic Monkeys
- Meds ~ Placebo
- Sleeping with Ghosts (soulmate song) ~ Placebo
- Sunburn ~ Muse
- Juice Box ~ The Strokes
- Champagne from a Paper Cup ~ Death Cab for Cutie .. (drinking and driving have never been so appealing)
(Okay.. I lied .. not 10 ..)
- Opshori ~ Artcell
- Red Eyes and Tears ~ BRMC
- Gotta Get Thru This ~ David Bedingfield .. ( my sister hates this song with a passion .. and I don't quite understand what it means either)
- Post Blue ~ Placebo
- Aoki Flamme ~ Tahakashi Youko
- Change (in the house of flies) ~ Deftones
- Lullaby ~ The Cure
- Poddo Patar Jol ~ James
- Immigrant Song ~ Led Zeppelin
- Tainted Love ~ Marilyn Manson .. (bondage-bondage-butt-secs .. hehehehe .. golden teeth .. )
- You Spin Me Round (Like a Record) ~ Dead or Alive
- White Wedding ~ Billy Idol

... There's more I'm sure .. but I need to pee ..

Food for Thought ..

2006-09-19T22:34:00.000+10:00

There are generally three kinds of people. Well, actually there are two kinds; one kind just sort of gets branched into two. You get the commoners- the everyday folks who are never anywhere at the right time, the greater bulk of the population taking up space and the only reason these people get anywhere in life is because life just doesn't stand still in one spot. Then there's the rare few who are always at the right place at the right time. They are infront of burning buildings and just happen to be carrying a hose or they might wake up and decide to take a walk down Gardeners Road- the day just happens to be also the day a staff from Ikea gets fired and they become the new Ikea-slave. For a long time, I thought there could not be another class of people other than the two I just mentioned. Then I met the third kind. These people are EVERYWHERE ALL THE TIME and absolutely annoying. They are there when extraordinary opportunity opens up as well as being there when nothing is expected to happen. They are even present in things that don't concern them or ever will concern them. These people turn up to random birthday parties and pop in to have a chat for no reason. They look over your shoulders while you check your mails and ask if you'd help them out because apparantly you are smart.

Anyway, I've done something pretty crazy. I'm totally broke and still spent a fair amount on two tickets to see Muse (actually I was very close to saying no..but the sister really wanted it, and seeing how she'll lead a pretty retarded life like mine, the least I can do is show her some fun). I need another job where I'll be paid more minus the labour work. Invest in stock market perhaps?

If you forget me ..

2006-09-18T14:41:00.000+10:00

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

~ Pablo Neruda

Why is everything I was destined to write has already been written?

-_-

2006-08-25T02:37:00.000+10:00

Still nothing .. I feel so uninspired .. just realised I'm wearing my jumper inside out ..

Sing along perhaps? Yes-yes .. why not ..

Thinking of something funny .. no .. it's not working .. I don't understand why everyone can't be given a sense of humour .. actually the actual question is why wasn't I given a sense of humour .. the keyboard refused to type ..

It's quite cold in here .. if I read another sentence about urea I might just go berserk and throw things .. starting with this stupid speaker in front of me ..

Enough procrastinating ..

Midnight Club !

2006-08-25T01:27:00.000+10:00

Not quite midnight, more like 'an-hour-and-a-half-past-midnight-club'. It's these damn 1200 word essay assignments that annoys me at times. For example, right now the bed is where I should be, but oh no .. instead I'm in front of the computer not doing work when I should be doing work and .. let me type up here exactly what the assessment is.

The Micro-faculty demands that the students be taught how to use the journal-searches and also demands that the students learn how to write a literature review. Not so easy when you have to read through a ridiculous amount of academic crap and end up only choosing two or three at most to review. But of course then the issue of plagiarism and paraphrasing every thing comes into play so it sounds like your own work. How the fuck is that suppose to work? Last time I checked there wasn't a trillion ways (hell, there's not even three ways) of stating 'Urea is degraded by urease- an enzyme present in most pathogenic bacteria'. How the hell do you paraphrase that?

So my progress so far : a word document with the title heading (Urea degrading bacteria: Characteristics of species P. mirabilis and M. morganii), my name, my institution's name, a few headings (Abstract, Introduction, Characteristic of Proteus mirabilis, Characteristic of Morganella morganii, Conclusion, References) .. AND ABSOLUTELY NO SIGN OF ACTUAL BODY TEXT.

If I ever discover a bacteria of my own .. what should I call it? I think I'll hold a competition and the best name-giver will .. umm .. go on an magical evening outing thingy with me .. yes .. yes .. never become a scientist .. it makes you desperate .. very very desperate .. (I am under no circumstances suggesting that I am one though) .. [as in the scientist part .. everyone will pretty much agree that I AM desperate] .. {I have a feeling that desperate is spelt wrong .. is it? awaiting for my one and only reader to clarify .. oh what the hell .. I'll just leave it as it is (or I could check it myself)} ..

It's called boredom, Baby !

2006-07-21T14:27:00.000+10:00

Here is a list of things that are on my/the siblings Bookmarks tool (life pretty much sux when one has to share a computer, might as well not have one to begin with and visit local 'NetCafe's' to browse) ... :

1. Quicksearches : These were inbuilt stuff courtesy of Firefox. They are: Wikipedia, Dictionary.com, Urban Dictionary, Google and Stock Symbol (I've never visited this Stock Symbol Quicksearch .. I really should).

2. Firefox and Mozilla links : Helpdesk, FAQ and all that jazz, never went, never will.

3. The Song of My Life - Ishti Bhai's blog

4. Untold Tales and Starbucks Coffee - I hate typing things on the location bar.

5. Baka Updates - The sibling goes here to find out whether new episodes of any particular anime is up for download and also to find prospect animes to download.

6. Envirosphere - Another Baka-Update type portal, it's a more legal site than the previous one.

7. Bit-Torrent files from Anime-Empire - Meh! pretty self explanatory I should hope.

8. Lu Aza's Journal - Self explanatory.

9. Lu's site - Who is this Lu you ask?

10. Root-Adventure in Bangladesh - Root's blog, don't know who he is though, but he sounds hot.

11. Salvador Dali Art Gallery - Self explanatory.

12. Rabindrasangeet.org - All his songs typed up in Bangla, a searchable data-they say.

13. Samsad Bengali-English Dictionary - Self explanatory.

14. MediaPortal - I'm a music pirate .. should I be even writing the site's name? Is there legal issues involved? Will I go to jail? But I pay for iTunes, does that count?

15. The MMN Projects - Another one of those site's I really shouldn't be typing out.

16. Index of /feartwork - The siblings obsessive nature over the video game FireEmblem. We perv on animated characters and pass nasty comments. It's so much fun.

17. Translated Version of ... - Self explanatory.

18. Portal - I don't even know myself. I could check, but what if it is porn, even worse, porn that the sibling watches. That would be awkward.

19. Unedited Sprites - DON'T EVEN ASK.

20. FanFiction.net - The sibling writes, the sibling's friend writes. They post their stuff here. Bloody creative sibling and friend.

21. Fire Emblem World - Self explanatory.

22. He's Like a Detuned Radio - Jimmy's blog. Jimmy is just a random from the Internet. I found his blog when I was bored and liked it and now I officially net-stalk this guy.

-----

iTunes is currently playing : Massive Attack ~ What Your Soul Sings
Thinking about : Still you

Back !

2006-07-19T12:54:00.000+10:00

It has been such a L-O-N-G time since I've updated. I think, I'm back. I shall try to be regular. I'm only doing this for Ishti bhai though, since he's the only one who reads this. Meh!

I'll be back. Don't feel like writing anything now.

I wanted to update the 'look' yet again .. can't find option or nice things .. the break is taking a toll on me, I've forgotten English ..

How do I add links? And change the names? I'm so confused .. .. :/

Excursion : Beginners Guide !

2005-11-02T22:43:00.000+11:00

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] ...

Excursion : About, Overview & FAQ !

2005-07-31T13:08:00.000+10:00

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.

Updation!

2005-07-25T16:40:00.000+10:00

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.

-Sway-

2005-06-29T16:12:00.000+10:00

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

-Words of the Day-

2005-06-26T12:05:00.000+10:00

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

-Babble-

2005-06-25T15:49:00.000+10:00

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!

-Shaolee-

2005-06-21T15:40:00.000+10:00

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.

-Another Random-

2005-06-19T19:20:00.000+10:00

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

-Random Sequal-

2005-06-16T11:00:00.000+10:00

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' ...

-My Day-

2005-06-10T18:57:00.000+10:00

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 ...

-Untitled-

2005-06-07T13:58:00.000+10:00

" 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 ...

-Boredomness-

2005-06-05T15:19:00.000+10:00

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.

What's Your Personality Type?

Can everyone see that? Stupid piece of _____ ... How do I save on the 'above' space?

My Four Cents on Sexy-ness!

2005-05-24T15:16:00.000+10:00

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.

Prior Series: Five Hours Before (this post)!

2005-05-23T15:32:00.000+10:00

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.

The Best List!

2005-05-15T01:29:00.000+10:00

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.

Dilemma-Series: Regarding (My) Name(s)!

2005-05-14T10:41:00.000+10:00

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.]

Coffee!

2005-04-25T21:12:00.000+10:00

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.