A label I can stick to...

Those of you who know me know that I dislike labels. Not the sticky kind or the blogging kind, but the kind that we attach to people. In my eyes, a label reduces a beautifully complex human being to just one defining feature. Jocks, geeks, plastics (Mean Girls, anyone?), tomboys, goths...the list is endless. I get that we like to pigeon-hole people because it makes them easier for us to understand, but in reality it just means that we're overly confused when they present a characteristic that we have deemed to be incompatible with their 'type'. And let's not even think about getting into how most labels are derogatory and highly judgemental!

I've resisted labels throughout my life. I've been the 'white' girl, the 'poor' girl, the 'geeky' girl, the 'plain' girl, (and most recently) the 'single' girl. I've hated all these labels. I've always wanted to be defined by who I am, not what I do or don't do. Until now.

It probably has a lot to do with the fact that I don't have any friends outside work here, but work is my life now. The only time I'm not thinking about work is when I'm watching tv. I'm not kidding - I recently had a dream about a class test I was planning (and I never dream).

I am an educator. And in spite of the low pay, the ungrateful students, the mindless bureaucracy and the towering pile of lab reports that I need to mark, there is nothing else I would rather be. And if people want to label me 'the lecturer girl', then I will wear that label with pride.

I'll still watch the cricket and fangirl over Made In Chelsea though.

How did I feel?

Listening to: Radio 1

First of all, thank you very much to everyone who commented on my last post. I purposely didn't talk about my own reaction, because:

a) I didn't want to influence anyone's response, and
b) I genuinely wanted to know how you would feel.

So now I will tell you how I felt.

Overall, I couldn't care less. When I heard it, I'll admit...it stung a bit. But my very next thought was a big fat 'meh'. I was facing my back to the guys so luckily I didn't have to look them in the eye, but anyway I just completely ignored them and walked towards the dancefloor and joined my friends.

A lot of you had suggested retorts I could've used. To be honest I wouldn't have wasted the pleasure of my attention on them, but if I had, I probably would've said something along the lines of "Thanks for the tip, Captain Obvious". I mean let's face it...I know I have miniature boobs, I see them every day. It's one of the many things about my body that I hate (there's a long list). But...I've come to terms with it. In fact, I've come to terms with the entire list (almost). And that's why it didn't bother me. Nothing to do with the perpetrator, the venue or the value of the comment. All to do with me.

Looking back at at the episode, I can break down the moment between the initial sting and the final 'meh' into micro-thoughts...and it goes a little something like this:

1. Ouch!
2. It's ok, only a little prick *tee hee*
3. This is proof that sexual harassment isn't just a 'Sri Lankan man in a bus' thing
4. Wait, so that was the only negative thing they had to say about me?
5. Yeah, go ahead and watch this ass as it walks away, way out of your reach.

Ahem...yeah OK so I may have added a little bit of swagger to my walk towards the dancefloor :P

So there we have it. To be fair, they were just stating the obvious. I suppose a part of me just assumed that that's what guys think when they see me any way...so I wasn't surprised in the least. Don't get me wrong, I know the statement was offensive, but I wasn't 'offended' as such...I've been told far worse (namely "she should put a bag over her head"). With regards to this episode, I suppose "water off a duck's back" is a good way of describing how I felt. I consider that to be a good thing...don't you?

How would you feel?

Listening to: nothing

You're at a club, handing over your coat to the cloakroom, and the guys behind you start hassling you with the usual 'all right darling', 'give us a dance eh' nonsense...and then you hear one saying 'she could do with a boob job'.

How would you feel?

Listening to: some crap

I wish the world would just fuck off and leave me alone. I hate this feeling...this "I should hide away and protect others from my volatility" thing. My head feels like it's gonna explode and I have this urge to stab something. Or break some crockery. Or insult someone. But I know that won't make things better. Nothing will. Heck I thought this Evening Primrose Oil was supposed to calm the mood swings? wtf.

I know I should deal with it. Meditate or something. But whatever. Later. For now I'll just tell the world to fuck off. And to those of you that think PMS is some kind of excuse or a joke or something, let me kick you in the genitals repeatedly for a week every month for about 30 years and we'll see how you like it.

Hell hath no fury indeed.

But I've already done my time!

Listening to: Radio 1

Maybe I should just show this to everyone that asks me when I'm gonna 'settle down'.

I am a horrible person

Listening to: 'A Million Love Songs' by Take That [Take That Greatest Hits]

Is it bad that I roll my eyes and barf a little inside every time my female friends mention their mothers-in-law? Oh don't bother answering...rhetoric q, I know it's bad. Horrible, in fact. I don't want to become one of those 'feminazis' that looks down at those who've decided to tie the knot...but that's exactly what I feel myself turning into. I suppose it doesn't help that I see every man's mother as the devil incarnate. There are degrees, obviously (South Asians tend to be the worst, although Europeans aren't entirely faultless either)...but no exceptions so far (ok maybe one, but that just proves the rule). I feel my neck tense up every time I hear about some woman fussing over her grown son. Cut that umbilical cord already, you stupid cow! Ugh.

My mother is mildly amused at all this rage I'm displaying. My father stays quiet, 'cos he knows that the nonsense coming out of my grandmother's mouth only serves to validate my opinion. Don't get me wrong, I love my grandmother to bits...but seriously, she puts my mother through hell.

I know that as the days go by and I get even more set in my ways and even more opinionated (is that even possible?), the chances of me meeting a guy who can put up with me decrease exponentially. So basically, I'm gonna turn into not just a feminazi, but also a condescending bitch who thinks she's too good for all the men she meets. Oh well, whatever.

Who let the brats out?

Listening to: 'Three Marlenas' by The Wallflowers [Bringing Down The Horse]

How do you deal with the insolent brats? How do you deal with the kids that think teachers should be at their beck and call? How do you deal with the kids that think the world revolves around them? How do you deal with the kids that ooze that annoying, ungrateful sense of entitlement that is all too common in the younger generation?

Do you slap them and tell them to respect their elders? Do you tell them to stop being such a self-absorbed whiny little piece of shit and quit whinging? Do you tell them that while you acknowledge the fact that they're probably somewhat intelligent, it doesn't mean that the sun shines out of their ass? Do you tell them that their sarcasm only serves to prove their immaturity and that they should get back to you when they've decided to grow up? Do you stick your tongue out at them and say "Oooh I'm scared now!" and roll your eyes? Do you look at them and say "Look at my face. Is my face bovvered?" and carry on like they don't exist?

I wanted to do all of the above this morning. To one person. Luckily, I managed to keep my cool and I explained the situation to them, and I said that if they had a problem with the teaching arrangements, they should speak to my superior. And then I went and told my superior that he might get a visit from an annoying little prick :D. It probably won't happen, 'cos these egotistical types tend to be quite cowardly. Still, I got confirmation from my superior that I had done the right thing, which made me feel better.

I love teaching. And I hate not being able to help students. But I am not a servant. I don't have to put up with shit from spoilt brats. I will go out of my way to help kids who are appreciative of my efforts, but the ones that throw their toys out will just have to wait their turn.

*sigh*

What do you do?

Listening to: Radio 1

What do you do when you feel the all too familiar sword of rejection piercing through your core? You gather your girl friends around, curse every boy ever to walk the planet, and pig out on chocolate ice cream while watching crappy romcoms. Camaraderie and sisterly love (and a lot of hugs) get you through, and get you back on your feet and ready to face the world again.

What do you do when you don't have any girl friends nearby? You hold back the tears, swallow the disappointment, put on a smiley face, sneak in a blog post when nobody's looking, and dive into work. All the while hoping that when you finally break down ('cos it will happen), you'll be alone in your room, unable to make a fool of yourself.

...

I suppose it is a plus point that I didn't humiliate myself this time...makes a change. It's good to know I'm learning from past mistakes. Now if only I could learn from the mistake of falling in the first place!

P.S.- If you're about to tell me that my time will come, please don't. I don't need to be patronised right now.

One existential crisis, coming right up!

Listening to: 'Hello, I Love You' by Glee Cast [Glee]

I'm turning 27 in exactly one month *gasp*. Shorty and I were trying to decide whether this means I'm entering my 'late-twenties', or if I can stretch the 'mid-twenties' for another year...I sure hope it's the latter! He-whom-I-really-should've-given-up-on-by-now said I don't look 27. I didn't dare ask him how old I do look...I mean no self-respecting adult female wants to be told by the guy they like that they look about 12, right? So I just joked about how I'd still get ID'd when going to 'spoons (it's trashier than it looks), and that was that.

And then I watched Episode 14 of Glee (which was amazing, btw) and realised that in certain aspects, I'm actually a nowhere-near-as-pretty hybrid of Rachel and Emma...minus the amazing voice and the OCD. *Sigh*...how pathetic.

OK I'm gonna go back to my thesis in an attempt to hide from the impending doom. What a way to bring up the 300th post eh?

The curse of the has-been over-achiever

Listening to: 'Nothin' On You' by B.o.B. ft. Bruno Mars [B.o.B Presents The Adventures of Bobby Ray]

I got an email a couple of days back from one of my mother's friends asking me how I'm doing, and she said -

"...knowing you, you'll pass with flying colours. I know your parents are so proud of you."

Today, I decided to start updating my CV. I was looking at the example CVs in the guide book, and my list of achievements looked...well...minuscule, in comparison. I felt like a failure. A phony. Like I had let everyone I know down.

Why does everyone I've known since childhood assume that I'll just breeze through everything? My mother jokes that it's my own fault for being an over achiever. Perhaps...I'll accept, I used to be an over achiever. But not any more. Now I'm struggling to keep afloat. It's difficult enough as it is to not drown, without everyone else expecting me to just sail through. It's taken a lot of soul searching for me to accept the fact that things are difficult now, and that it doesn't mean I'm a failure. I'm learning how to ask for help, and I'm learning to love myself, warts and all...but the moment someone expects me to return to my over-achieving ways, it all comes crashing down. The chest tightens, the tension headache appears, and I burst into tears...only to be told off by my father for getting hysterical.

I wish I could explain to these people that it's difficult. And that it doesn't just happen. Yes I did my school exams well...but don't for a minute think that I didn't work incredibly hard. I am not a genius. I know a few geniuses, and I know that I'm not one of them. This assumption that my life is obstacle-free infuriates me. They expect more from me than they do from their own children...how is that fair?! It's peer pressure on a whole different level, and it's unbearable.

And it's not just regarding my studies.

"Someone like you must be having boys lining up at your door!"

I'm sorry, what?! WTF does 'someone like me' mean? Last time I checked, insecure, highly strung female engineers with no physical assets whatsoever weren't really high up on the 'desirability' scale. I wish people would quit the whole 'talking just for the sake of conversation' thing.

I don't really know where I'm going with this post. The positivity of a few days ago disappeared as quickly as it appeared. Looking at CVs was demoralising. I only managed to do half of what I was supposed to do today. And I'm as lonely as hell. Yes I know I keep going on about it. But seriously, you know it's bad when you think "oh shit I forgot to wish Dave for his birthday"...and by 'Dave', you mean 'Comedy Dave' Vitty off of The Chris Moyles Show on Radio 1 (wished him now on twitter though, so it's OK). I think I'm actually going crazy.

If I ever have children, a part of me hopes that they're not high achievers...no one deserves this pressure.

Pipedreams are made of these

Listening to: 'Jem Theme' by Jem and the Holograms [Jem]

I want to be a singer in a band. It'd be a five-piece - drums, keyboards, lead guitar, bass guitar, and...um...tambourine (I figure I could manage that). The drummer would be a girl...I've always thought female drummers were cool, ever since I saw Raya on TV (please don't judge me). We wouldn't be famous or anything...just playing the pub circuit and generally having fun. I'm not sure what I'd do during the day...probably work at the post office or something. The lead guitarist would get all the groupies (yes, even crappy bands get groupies in my dreams). And the keyboardist would secretly fancy the drummer (well he'd think it's a secret, but everyone would know, obviously). Oh and I'd have a steamy love affair with the bass guitarist that we'd have to hide from the other band members. And...um...haven't thought of the rest yet.

What's that I hear you say? PhD? Imaginary band members? Wishful thinking? Delusional? Gah, trust you to spoil my pipedream! Oh well, I guess I'll just go back to singing along (out loud) to my iPod as I walk down the street, hoping for a Shola Ama moment.

Let me not google that for you!

Listening to: Radio 1

A conversation that happens all too often -

Retard: Hey PR, so I have this question that I need answering...can you answer it for me?
Me: *mutter under breath* Erm...*finds answer on google*...there you go

How I want the conversation to go:

Retard: Hey PR, so I have this question that I need answering...can you answer it for me?
Me: You're connected to the internet, yeah?
Retard: Yeah...
Me: You can type, yeah?
Retard: Yeah...
Me: So WHY DON'T YOU F***ING GOOGLE IT YOURSELF, MORON?!?!?!

The last time I checked, I wasn't an encyclopaedia. There is no website called www.askpseudorandom.com. So why don't you pull your finger out and do something for yourself for a change? Even my parents knows how to find stuff on the internet without asking me, and they're over 60!

Yes I know there's lmgtfy, but the type of people who ask me dumb stuff are usually the type of 'sensitive' people who'd get offended if I were to answer with that link, and I can't be bothered dealing with the aftermath.

OK rant over.

Settling

Listening to: 'Defying Gravity' by Glee Cast [Glee: The Music, Volume 1]

My insides ache when I hear the Glee version of this song (I haven't seen Wicked yet so I've nothing to compare it with). There's a spot deep within my body, somewhere beneath my diaphragm...and it's like there's someone there, clawing at my skin from the inside, screaming, trying to get out. My chest feels tight, as if my lungs are trying to jump out of my ribcage. And my shoulders feel like they're about to explode.

My insides ache when I see babies. And oddly enough, it's exactly the same kind of ache I just described. It's like there's another pair of arms inside my own, trying to reach out.

The aching is also the same...when I'm spending time with him. It's like I have to restrain myself. It's a deep sense of longing, coupled with restraint. But I don't think it's him (even though he is lovely). And it isn't the babies (even though they are adorable). In fact, it isn't even the song (even though it is an amazing rendition of an amazing song). On the contrary, I think all this aching is just a manifestation of loneliness. A lot of loneliness.

It's the longing for something familiar, something comforting, something safe. Something that makes me truly happy. The majority of my real friends are somewhere between 50 and 11,000 miles away from me...and when a proper hug is what you need, even one mile is too many miles away. All I can hope for are weekends like the last one, or stolen moments with Shorty.

A part of me feels that this loneliness was the main reason for this crush (because essentially that's all it is) to develop. It wasn't because I wanted to be with him, but more because I wanted to be with someone. I've been thinking, and while I always knew he wasn't gonna be Mr. Right, I've decided that he isn't even Mr. Right Now. That's not to say he isn't an absolute sweetheart ('cos he is), but my gut is telling me that he's never gonna be my sweetheart...and if I've learnt one lesson from my many romantic misadventures, it's that I should always listen to my gut.

So here's the part where I let go. Where I rid my mind of all misplaced hope, and accept the reality of my predicament. I am sad, and I want to cry...but something's stopping me (there's that restraint again). Boys have brought me nothing but tears for the past 13 years, and it's always the same: "He doesn't like me! Waaah!". Something's gotta give.

You know, maybe I'm just not cut out for this 'relationship' malarkey. I mean I've always been a loner. Team activities were never my thing. Choir was probably the closest thing to teamwork that I engaged in, and even then I remember getting told off 'cos my voice could be heard "like a gunshot" over everyone else's (RIP Uncle Lylie). Maybe I just work better on my own.

A lot of people, including Shorty and my mother, seem to think that I'll find someone when I leave Cambridge. However, considering I currently have no plans for my post-Cambridge life, I think their words are probably meant as much to reassure them as they are to comfort me. And so I'm settling. For whatever comes my way. Apparently the horoscopes are coming in without any effort from my parents (go figure!), so I'll just wait for one to match. I can't hope for love, but at least I can hope for companionship, right?

trustno1

Listening to: 'Pass Out' by Plan B [Radio 1 Live Lounge]

I used to love X-Files. It was the only thing I could be bothered staying up late enough to watch on TV. I've forgotten a lot of what I saw, apart from the Smoking Man, the stretchy dude who came out of the escalator, and of course Mulder's password. But I digress. Sort of.

When you choose to trust a female friend with a secret, say the fact that you fancy their friend...you generally expect them to do one of two things: honour that trust, support you and keep quiet about the whole thing, or betray that trust and blab all over town. What you probably don't expect, is for them to act like you never told them anything and then use every opportunity they get to give you a "ha ha he likes me more than you, sucker!" sign. But that, ladies and gentlemen, is exactly what has happened to me.

Now I've come up with a few possibilities. Either it's all innocent and she doesn't realise how painful it is to have my nose rubbed in the glory of their friendship, or it's anything but innocent and I've inadvertently signed up for a catfight. The other explanation is that I've unwittingly made myself a third wheel in a budding clandestine romance, in which case...oooh shit. My gut is inclined to go with Option 2 (I have my reasons).

So what can I do? I'm shocked, disappointed, confused and upset. But none of that is gonna make me want to 'fight'. It's just not me. And it's not like me to be confrontational either, so we can cross out the "talk to her" option. All I can do is stomach it. Just sit through all the "ooh let me share this titbit of information about him to highlight the fact that I know him better than you" and the "ooh let me casually mention how he's so sweet to me and not you" moments. I mean seriously...I'm not the jealous type but she is really pushing me!

But yeah. Grin and bear. To be fair, it is my fault. My fault for bringing my emotions into the workplace, for forgetting that I should trust no one, and for allowing myself to get distracted and affected by all of this. I just need to get the walls back up and then all will be fine.

Sigh...when am I gonna stop allowing myself to get hurt?

The voices in my head...

Listening to: um...the voices in my head, duh!

...let's call them X and Y (because I'm not feeling particularly creative right now). Their conversation with me goes something like this...

X:- look at it this way, you're sacrificing your desires in order to maintain the harmony of your environment
Y:- Ha! What bollocks. Pathetic excuse. Just admit it, you're not doing anything about it 'cos you know you wouldn't be able to get him even if you kidnapped him and slipped him a roofie.
X:- Don't listen to that evil midget! You're a lovely person and I'm sure he'd consider the idea if he knew...but you can't let that happen 'cos it'd just make everything so weird for the others.
Y:- HAHAHA whatever minger. Calling me a midget. Heh. But seriously loser, just accept it. It'll make your life much easier.
X:- You're so mean! Aww poor baby. Take no notice. Anyway you know this isn't Mr Right...this is just a lovely guy you wish you could get closer to. The perfect guy for you will come along...
Y:- PERFECT GUY? Oh puhlees, excuse me while I puke. Remember what Chris Moyles said to Tina this morning? "YOUR PERFECT GUY IS GAY". Hahahahahahaha hilarious! Yeah so some lucky girls find these elusive 'perfect guy' toys. You are not one of those girls. Don't look at me like that, I'm just trying to be honest with you! It's for your own good.
X:- For her own good? How would YOU know what's for her own good? You don't even know what she's like! You just...
Y:- Oh and you DO? Just take off those rose-tinted glasses for a second would...
Me:- JUST SHUT THE F*** UP, BOTH OF YOUUUUUUUUU!!!

FMA: Shoulder Angel and Devil by zulenha

Sigh. Please excuse the lame-ass post. Regular transmission will resume shortly, I promise. Or at least I hope so, 'cos this state I'm in sucks!

Just don't go there...

Listening to: 'Starry Eyed' by Ellie Goulding [Lights]

You know how you think you just might maybe possibly slightly fancy someone, even though he's not your 'type'? And you know you're not his type so it's not like he'd go for you, but even if you were, you two are so not compatible? And even if you were compatible, it would just be weird and wrong?

And you know how you think you just might maybe possibly slightly fancy someone (either that or you want to mother him)? And it's great 'cos he's so your type (well one of your many 'types' anyway). But regardless of what your twisted feelings are, you know there's nothing there?

Sigh...I really don't need this right now. See this is what happens when the only semblance of excitement in my life is a very small portion of undergrad eye candy. FML.

A day in the life of a single girl

Listening to: Radio 1

This time last year I had a little rant about how singledom was perceived to be some kind of disease, and I'm sad to say (not really surprised though, I guess) that things haven't changed. In fact I lie, they have...they've actually got worse. My mother did warn me that they would, but I don't think anything or anyone could've prepared me for this.

Rewind to my trip home in December (re-rewind, when the crowd say bo sele...what?! That wasn't the first thing that came to mind when you read that sentence? Oh.)...amongst all the various social obligations was a family wedding. I was there with my parents, aunts and uncles, grandmother and grand aunts and generally having some quality 'family' time. One of my grand aunts took me to a corner and advised me that 'it was high time I found a good Sinhala Buddhist boy' but she's pushing 90 and harmless so I just grinned and took it on the chin. I thought to myself that if this was what my mother had warned me about, it'd be a piece of cake! I was wrong. Oh boy was I wrong.

Across the ballroom I spotted one of my old teachers, and being the glutton for punishm...I mean, well brought up child that I am, I decided it was probably best if I went and said hi. She was very pleased to see me, and I felt like I'd done a good deed...I mean who wouldn't appreciate being remembered after so many years, right? Everything was going along swimmingly...you know, the typical "so what did you do after leaving school?", "what's your research on?", "oh how lovely that our students are doing so well!"...and then I noticed her looking at my hand. My left hand. Suddenly alarm bells started ringing in my head. What happened next was a sea of incomprehensible questions, advice and gestures...but this was the general flow:

Ms X: How old are you now?
Me: Erm...26...?
Ms X: So you have a boyfriend?
Me: *OMGWTFBBQ* Err no, it's not a priority at the moment
Ms X: WHAT?! You're not getting any younger blah blah blah you must blah blah blah did you see Mr Y blah blah blah he's really smart blah blah blah I'll introduce you blah blah blah
Me: *keeeeelll meeeee naaaaooooo* Err no Miss it's ok, you don't have to...*feels hand being grabbed, body being hoisted off chair and dragged towards random guy*
Ms X: *to Mr Y* I want you to meet one of my blah blah blah she's very blah blah blah ok bye
Me: Erm hi. OK this is awkward.
Mr Y: *embarrassed look* Hehe

Can somebody say 'most embarrassing moment of PR's life'? Louder please. Thanks. My mother keeps telling me to 'keep an open mind' and I had to remind myself of that every two seconds in order to stop myself from tying my saree fall around my neck. I made small talk for about half a minute and then ran to my mother as soon as I could possibly do so politely. I was mortified, scarred for life...and my mother was rolling around laughing. And then came the next bomb drop. Apparently she had been told to look out for Mr Y's brother, 'cos he's apparently 'a good catch'. I mean WHAT THE...I'm being pimped to brothers?!?!?! Could things get any worse?!

Evidently so. About 2 days after this episode, we got a call from a family friend who lives abroad...asking for my height. Yeah, you guessed why...apparently her somebody's son is really nice and really smart. Ugh. And to top it all off, the food at the wedding was a bit dodgy, and I got the worst indigestion I'd had in ages. Way to kick a girl when she's down eh?

Why? WHY?! I ask you. I didn't ask to be set up with anyone. My parents haven't asked for me to be set up with anyone. Who are these people who feel they have some kind of duty to marry me off...some kind of right to interfere with my private life?! Since when did my love life become a public concern?! Apparently their intentions are good. Well you know what? I don't give a flying f*** about their intentions. They sure as hell don't care about mine. And to make things worse, some of these people have the audacity to tell my mother and father that they're bad parents because they're not searching for a groom. I'm telling you now, you could search the whole universe and not find two human beings who love me, care about me, respect me, who are proud of me, and have my best interests and my happiness at heart more than my parents. Anyone who calls them bad parents wouldn't know good parenting if it slapped them in the face.

And this is one of my 'issues' with back home. Every Dick, Tom and Harry is a self-appointed expert on all and sundry, and the sole purpose of their existence is to impose their opinions and their 'help' on everyone else. The fact that their intentions are good seems to make it all OK. I mean it's unimaginable that the recipient might not actually want or need help, right? What kind of an ungrateful wretch wouldn't want help or advice from these 'experts'? Oh I dunno, maybe the kind that actually knows what she wants in life and doesn't need interference from some supposedly-educated self-important elder? *rolls eyes*

So yeah. I've wanted to blog about this incident ever since it happened, but had a bit of writer's block until now. I know these are good people and I know their intentions are good but they're so self-absorbed that they don't realise that their efforts are in vain and unwelcome. I wish I knew how to tell them to STFU and mind their own goddamn business without actually telling them to STFU and mind their own goddamn business. Sigh.

Discombobulated

Listening to: 'Starry Eyed' by Ellie Goulding [-]

My brain is about to explode. There's a lot I want to blog about - not necessarily related to the election results (though I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't feature at some point) - but I've got no time. What with the teaching, the essays for my course, the thesis that's supposed to be on its way to being finished (but is nowhere close), the performance in one and a half weeks' time (that I couldn't be less prepared for if I tried), and the complete and utter joy that is Glee (currently my only source of eye candy, can you believe it?!)...I've no time for contemplation. At all. Sucks, don't it?

And you know what else sucks? Thinking back on your trip home...thinking about your family, friends and the island life and being thankful that you were there...and then thinking about all the other stuff you encountered, and being thankful that you left. I'm not ashamed about how I feel (I promised myself last year that I would accept every part of me) but I am sad. Sad that those ugly social elements exist, sad that I'm old enough to notice them but not mature enough to remain unaffected, and most of all, sad that I've been away long enough to know that I don't belong. An unconditional love for Mother Lanka runs through my veins but at this time in my life, there is an aspect of her culture that's not a part of who I am.

My words will probably come across as self-righteous to those of you who live in SL; don't get me wrong - there's a part of me that wishes I hadn't left home at 19, just so I'd be less traumatised by what I've experienced...to that effect my mother says that living in Britain has made me soft, and she's probably right. But then at the same time, another part of me is thankful that I escaped the well, 'cos the bird's eye view has taught me a lot more about the world and myself than the frog's eye view ever could've.

I've blogged about feeling disenfranchised before, and by and large it's only elicited flippant remarks that only serve to cement my opinion. And as I enter my late twenties, with the need for security and stability, and the desire to 'belong' as strong as ever, this disconnected state does not bode well for my future contentment.

Bullyproofing my 16 year old self

Listening to: Radio 1

I've been tagged by Scrumpy and Whacko in the latest blogging tag, and 1720GMT today is the big moment for BBC's anti-bullying campaign, bullyproof...so I've combined the two into one mega post...

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Hello chuti^[1] PR,

What?! Don't tell me I'm disrupting your precious O/L revision...we both know you were napping. Ammi^[2] doesn't know yet...but as usual, she will soon. No, I'm not the Ghost of Christmas Future...this is November, fool. And can you please stop trying to explain this in your usual painstakingly logical manner and shut up so I can impart you with a few pearls of wisdom? Not that you'd listen to me anyway, you stubborn little...ah, thank you.

OK...since you're supposedly studying, let's start with that. O/Ls will be fine (yes, even your 3 month crash course in Lit.). Ignore the self-righteous bigots who love to trash international schools, you'll survive. You'll love your A/L subjects...except Physics, which you'll just 'like'. A/Ls will seem easier than O/Ls. Yeah you're weird like that...accept it. Embrace it even! More on that later.

FFS don't worry about all those people trying to turn you into a mini Thaththi^[3] (you look like him, that's enough)! Do what appeals to you. Remember when you were 7, you told Ammi you'd study at Oxford? Screw that, you're going some place far better ;-)...don't let that horrendous mock interview faze you. At university, your grades will be marginally above average, which'll take some getting used to. But do your best, that's what counts. Oh and you know that desire to help others understand stuff? Keep that at the foremost of your mind...it'll be motivation for some serious shit you put yourself through. Your PhD (yes, you do a PhD) will be one heck of a rollercoaster ride...better toughen up your stomach!

Hmm what next? Ah yes. The PMS will improve...no more puking and fainting...oh except for this one time when you faint at freshers' fair and the ambulance crew have to escort you out of the hall with loads of people watching. But yeah, the worst is over. You'll lose about 5kg over the next decade. People will continue to give you dagger looks and say you're anorexic...meh. Don't bother with the high protein/high calorie diets, they won't work for you. And I admire your resolve but not eating chocolate won't reduce your pimples, so just get back to the good stuff, k? Oh and LOOK AFTER YOUR TEETH!!!

Now the personal stuff. The easy bits first: your love life will be pretty uneventful for the next 10 years...unless unrequited infatuations count as 'events' (please don't waste your time). You will make some amazing friends, but you'll still keep in touch with the gang. You'll be two continents away from SS but you'll still be as close as ever.

Lastly, the most important part. How can I put this gently...all the times people said nasty things about your accent, your skin colour, your country, your weight, your opinions, your preferred language, your hobbies, your social class (I know you remember every instance)...the bullying has affected you. I know you think it hasn't, and you (and a lot of other people) think I'm being a dramaqueen...but it has. Greater people have turned to alcohol, drugs, self-harming etc., but you've channelled all the negative energy into your studies and you're doing ok. You're doing the right thing, and I'm very proud of you! The bullying won't stop though. People will continue to judge you by your social class (albeit from a different perspective)...they'll also be hurtful about your career choices, your gender, your life choices, your body, your race...and more. We both know that these things don't really matter, and you're principled/stubborn enough not to change simply because you're in a minority of one. But it will hurt. A lot. You will cry. A lot. And when the studies get difficult, when you get stuck and realise you can't do everything on your own...your world will fall apart. The wall you built to protect yourself from the bullies will crumble, and every ugly insecurity you can imagine will surface. You'll hate your body, your mind, your work, your personality, your friends...you'll hate every aspect of your life.

Now dry your eyes for the good news - you turn things around. You start writing a public journal (that's this thing) and vent your thoughts. You find people you can confide in. You take the extremely brave step of opening up to your parents. Slowly, but surely, you make your way back. Clichés aside, it really is a voyage of discovery. But remember this...every part of you, the good, the bad and the ugly...they're all you. And you are perfect in your imperfections. You are a good person and you live your life by the Dhamma^[4]...with that, you can't go wrong. You'll be bruised and battered by people's harsh words, but you must nurse yourself back to health. Don't let anyone belittle you, your hopes or your fears. Love and accept yourself unconditionally. Please. If not you, then who?

OK I'm outta here. Know that I'm very proud of you, and you don't turn out so bad ;-).

With Blessings of the Noble Trip Gem, and the biggest, warmest hug ever,

Loku^[5] PR

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Sorry for the long and unfunny read; it's stuff I've been wanting to blog about for a while. One person's bullying is another person's banter and sometimes it's hard to tell them apart, but please try. A little sensitivity goes a long way.

Tagged: Sabby and Lady Divine

1 - little; 2 - Mother; 3 - Father; 4 - Buddhist teachings; 5 - big

Why do I even bother?!

Listening to: 'Brick by Boring Brick' by Paramore [Brand New Eyes]

You haul your lazy ass into the lab, with a plan to steadily chip away at that mountain of work that needs to be done before you go home.
You stare mind-numbingly at your computer screen while the hours crawl by, waiting for the 7-hr reaction to be completed, so that you can do the last bit of your experiment and go home for a late dinner.
You go back into the lab as the end time approaches, hungry, bored and tired...only to find that the bottle of solvent you need to complete the experiment is empty. Now there are two possibilities: either someone finished the solvent and put an empty bottle back in the cupboard, or someone didn't close the bottle properly and the solvent evaporated. Either way, it's bad news. You go on a hunt around every lab you have access to, but you can't find what you need.
You scold yourself for not checking the actual contents of the bottle when you checked on it earlier, and curse whoever caused the stuff to disappear. Tomorrow's Friday, which means it'll be Monday by the time you get a new bottle, which means you've now lost 3 days of potential experimental work.
You shrug your shoulders and put your rain-gear on, and step outside to start your journey home. You cycle through the river that was once a main road, all the while feeling the wind push you sideways, and squinting to clear the rain from your eyes.
You get home and try and find space for your soaking wet rain-gear, shoes, socks and jeans on the two radiators, and have a long bath.
You put some Paramore on ('cos nothing else is angsty and melodic enough) and heat up the microwaveable Sainsburys bacon and leek pasta bake (well it was either that or the microwaveable spaghetti bolognese), and sit down to type up a blog post (at least then the day wouldn't have been a complete waste).
And now you will dry your hair (which will no doubt take ages), take a dose of fukitol and get into bed with a good book, only to fall asleep before getting to the end of the first page.

FML