Entry-level Insanity

After months of tailoring my resume, cover letters (and other quintessential career related writing) to carry all the appropriate 'key-words', 'action verbs', 'transferable job skills' (as if coming up with a list of regular skills wasn't stressful enough) and walking the thin line between high self-esteem and vanity; I've finally been getting the calls for interviews. It kinda sounds like getting an interview is my goal in life – but I assure you I have bigger things in mind!

I have gotten compliments on my confidence. But I think my desperate attempts at 'action-o-fying my verbs' to present the right 'working image' mask my nervousness. (Interview tip here people!). And I've been on so many interviews now that before my interviewer has even formed the question, I have started to babble on about how I analyzed, clarified, determined, evaluated, formulated, gathered, investigated, located, measured, organized, researched, solved, summarized and tested - and alphabetically at that! (At times I throw in 'beseeched', 'knelt' and 'wept' for good measure).

Also, I can never tell if my interview was good or bad. I guess the fact that no one has called with any rejects is good. Or maybe it was so bad that they're too busy laughing at me to call back!

Balancing all the interviewing (preparations, traveling, dressing up, going-to-the-loo-20-million-times-out-of-nervousness included) along with my current work definitely takes its toll on my 12-hour days (I don't have the time to change the fused light bulb in my room and I have no choice but to sleep when it's dark). And not to mention all the time I spend day-dreaming about the jobs, thinking of new answers to "So, how's the job search going?" and waiting indefinitely by the phone for call-backs!

How will I ever fit lackluster tasks like cooking and cleaning into my schedule? Thank god for my south-indian roots that I can enjoy eating curd and rice every single day and spare my neighbor's garbage bins. As for the cleaning, I count jumping over clothes and books and empty yogurt containers as my daily exercise. Also, I shower with my eyes closed 'cuz the walls in my bathroom are turning black from the mold and the mildew. If those walls could talk, I'm sure they'd rap! Anyway, if it isn't going on my resume, I'm not wasting my time doing it!

Life is a roller coaster

Life is a roller coaster!! One minute I'm up… and the next I come plummeting down to the ground at speeds deemed impossible by physicists.

I have always been thrilled at not knowing what's around the next corner. The thrill of not knowing what I'm gonna knock into - maybe a closed door, maybe a broom or maybe just fall into a bush with thorns for good measure. And I've had the same outlook for larger things in life – school courses, career, love-life, a larger bush.

In research experiments, I was always told – change one variable at a time. That's what makes the change easy to understand and control. But at this point in my life, suddenly EVERYTHING is changing and all of these aspects HAVE to work out just right. I'm taking all the tests at the same time - and this time around I didn't get any preparatory leave and no one's offering grace marks!

I claim to be busy. And, I am. But, I think my mind is busier than my brain. I analyze, brood, dream, repent, anticipate and blame myself. When I'm done with that, I find someone else to blame.

Be brave is what they say. Remain Seated. Keep arms and legs inside the car at all times. And that's what I'm gonna do. Hoping that patience and perseverance are in for the ride too!

Dating a Star Wars fan

Warning: Requires a certain quantity of familiarity with the Star Wars 4, 5 & 6. If it’s just entirely perplexing – I hope you’ll see my point and empathize.

• Dinner dates often include McDonald’s happy meals in order to collect the Star Wars figurines.

• When you ask him to pass the salt, he closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and tries to 'force pull' it across the table.

• Don’t order food that’s too spicy. There might be a great disturbance in the Force.

• Watching the sunset is often accompanied by him humming the Imperial March.
  

• Every casual conversation has comparisons drawn to Star Wars.

• ROTJ, ROTS are commonly used abbreviations. Educate yourself.

• You are often referred to as Commander and Master and are always complimented as “Impressive. Very Impressive”

• He takes you watch the trilogies and the spin-offs and nit-picks more than George Lucas ever could.

• He takes you to Toys “R” Us to shop for his baby nephew. But, actually buys the Star Wars toys for himself.

• He opens automatic doors for you by waving his hand and claims to use the force. Well, at least chivalry isn’t dead.

• Planning long trips often have references to ‘a galaxy far, far away...’

• Let him know if you’re having an asthma attack. He might think you’re being Darth Vader.

• Every magazine you own is rolled up and used as a light saber.

• He’d love it if you wore cinnamon buns on the sides of your head

• He ends every date with “May the Force be with you.” And yeah - Don’t underestimate the Force!

• When you say “I love you”, he replies “I know”. (Harrison Ford has ruined this for me!!)

• If you don’t know the POWER of the dark side – Pretend.

_

Haze

The rain falls in tender drops -
The ones that barely show
As if the clouds can't commit
To holding back or letting flow

Tulips look up in disdain
Petals in partial bloom
Judging the worth of the wait
Doubting a vision will ever loom

Will it remain an endless pause
To estimate and to assess
Will it lure a full-grown storm
Or continue to be nothingness

Oft I walk these gloomy streets
In the misty cold
Hosting suspicions
Not knowing what is to unfold

_

Mummies and Blogthings

Deadlines lurk. I'm now an Egyptian Mummy i.e. I'm pressed for time!

Also a Blogthing says:

You are both very knowledgeable and creative.
You tend to be full of new ideas and potential - big potential.
Ideas like yours could change the world, if you build them.
As long as you don't stop working on your dreams, you'll get there.

So, I now need to focus these creative writings of mine towards some knowledgable reports, portfolios and business correspondence. And hope that people other than those at blogthings also notice my big potential and world-changing ideas!

Of course, amidst all the work if my pen decided to pour out a poem... I'll be right here to share it. But, these would have to be few and far-between. Also, my beta-blogger doesn't behave all the time and doesn't like me commenting on other non-beta blogs - biting a large chunk of pleasure right out of blogging!

Need to get back to working on my dreams and my sense of humor (refer egyptian mummy comment above). Let's hope I get there - wherever there might be - very soon!

_

Snakes on a Plane

Snakes on a Plane: Hype over matter served with extra cheese!

*Spoiler warning* Yeah... like I could spoil it further!

The title pretty much explains the movie. Okay, we have a plane. We have snakes. How the snakes get on the plane involves an inane plot thinner than Raveena Tandon’s chiffon saree in the rain!

11 Things I learnt about Snakes (and Planes):

1. Snake-vision is green, twisted and totally wicked!! Even National Geographic never gave you this perspective!
2. Non-poisonous snakes suddenly manufacture venom when on a plane in the sky.
3. Snakes prefer traveling coach. They can’t seem to slither into first class.
4. A ménage-a-trio with a snake might sound interestingly kinky. But it might end up leaving you green and full of pustules and o yes... dead!
5. Look before you leap pee. Snakes lounge around in the toilet lavatories and your unmentionables could be snake-snack.
6. After a Chihuahua as an appetizer, pythons prefer swallowing sarcastic bald men for main-course. Can't help it if you're balding... I’d suggest working on your personality before confronting pythons.
7. The rest of the snakes believe in equal opportunity. M/F/D/V/cat/dog
8. Snakes like to coil up with the oxygen masks. Would you like some venom to go with that O₂?
9. You don’t have to worry too much about snake bites on the arm. They only cause popeye-arm-a-litis – easily taken care of by an earring and olive oil.
10. Snakes can be destroyed by gun-shot, by electrocution, by blow-torch, by fire-extinguisher and by microwave. Uttering “who’s your daddy?” hasn’t proven as effective.
11. X-box experience and a sense of humor is all you need to land a plane.

Apart from its highly educational matter (as mentioned above)... there is everything the movie-lover craves –

Romance: Samuel L. Jackson and Julianna Margulies in a steamy cockpit – discovering their common pyromaniac characteristics.

Suspense: Tracking down the multitude of anti-venoms for the rapidly dying passengers.
If only Mr. Jackson could tell the difference between greenish-blue snakes, bluish-green snakes and the ones that are colored teal, the search would’ve been so much faster!

Horror: Provided by pythons, rattle-snakes, cobras, gruesome looking dead bodies and Samuel Jackson’s kick-ass expressions.

Memorable dialogues:
“AAAAAAAHH”
“Help! Help!”
“Is he going to die?”

And of course, the mother of all dialogues –
“Enough is enough! I have had it with these ******-****in’ snakes on this ******-****in’ plane!”

Tear-jerking moments: Snake-bitten, Keith Dallas poignantly exclaims “My ass. My ass, man!”
The paramedics rushed to the scene just in time. *sigh of relief*

Thrills: Snakes attack. People scream. Repeat. Repeat again. And again.
And don’t let the so-called banal dialogues mislead you. Get the Hubble Telescope. You just might discover the thrill factor!

My $0.02:

Go with rowdy friends capable of witty comments.
Fasten your seatbelts and take off with snakes of every breed known and digitally-designed.
If the movie gets to be too much to take... don’t fret. As the air-hostess would say – Exits are to the right and left of the theatre.

_

The voice is quiet

That's great!We'll get in touch with U. We'll be with K.
Is your place nearer to NYC or Philadelphia?
Have U got a mobile phone? What is the best time to contact U?
BFN

I looked forward to their visit. It had been a while since I met my aunt and uncle. I'd always relished their company and I expected the same this time.

But... I never expected the phone call or the emails that followed.

The funeral is on Monday 'cuz it'll take a while for people to get here.

A heart-attack while driving home from a party. My uncle was no more. Completely unexpected. Especially since a recent medical check-up and stress test had declared him as fit as a fiddle. He was 58.

The Clinical Director of Orthopaedics at his hospital in the UK, he had recently received his Long Service Award. He had also spent many years helping provide surgery on a voluntary basis in southern India.

I remember him as being the life of the party! Singing aloud (and asking us kids sing along), cracking jokes and making us roar with laughter. A couple of weeks before he passed he had been telling others that he had achieved all that he had wanted to and could die a happy man anytime.

The family was grief-stricken. Thoughts had remained unspoken and words had remained unsaid. All that was left to do was express gratitude for everything he was and for everything he did.

A song for every mood
And tales with humor imbued
Whether in glee or in gloom
Your presence always lit up the room

Though we now bid adieu
We never cease to think of you
Your kindness and your generosity
Your energy, laughter and repartee

Thank you for your life and all you did
Thank you for your smiles and the lives you lit
Thank you for all the happy memories
Thank you for your life; may you rest in peace

It has been 1 year. The voice is quiet - but the spirit echoes still.

_

Blog Day 2006

Pour out your thoughts. Inspire someone. Make someone laugh. Touch someone (not inappropriately please) with your words. And while away your productive hours.

It’s Blog Day 2006.

_

Over-sleepers Anonymous

Hello. My name is sunshine and I am an over-sleeper.

Yes, I see the irony. But, it was my mom who named me. She is one of those early birds who wakes up at times that are technically the middle of the night. Little did she know that the apple would fall from the tree and land on a whole other lazy planet.

It started with a couple of hits of the snooze button. Just one or 2 a day, I swear! But then the habit accrued. I needed to hit the snooze at least a dozen times before I could start my day. And how this has affected my life!

I have been shaken - but I have not stirred. I have also been pinched, tickled and jumped on by toddlers - all in vain. I have been labeled a 'lazy-bum', a 'sloth' and even a 'lethargophillic' with complete disregard for my feelings. When it's hot, the fan has been pitilessly switched off and I have been left to suffer in sweat. When it's cold, my blanket has been brutally snatched away. I whined and cuddled back into bed. The maid yelled at me and hit me with the broom - only to elicit my appeals for just 5 more minutes of sleep.

When resorting to provocation, blackmail and terrorism and making a victim out of my innocent little snuggly bears also proved fruitless - my parents resigned (My mom, unable to digest these antithetic characteristics, speculated baby-swapping at the hospital). Every morning, my commute to school was an unsuccessful race against the clock.

Living with room-mates - once again brave souls attempted to awaken me from my slumber, only to be frustrated, baffled, overwhelmed and disheartened. One got so worried, she checked to see if I was still breathing!

My over-sleeping habits turned chronic. I had traded in my alarm clock for louder and more obnoxious sounding ones. And every time I hit the snooze button. When I finally did make it to class, my day-dreams featured visions of my bed and my pillow!

I made excuses of exhaustion. Tiresome, ain't it? I made New Year resolutions. But, I partied so hard on the 31st - I slept through New Year Day!

Lately, I have found that I hesitate when it comes to hitting the snooze. This could either mean that I'm improving or that my laziness has hit the stratosphere!

So, here I am. My name is sunshine and I am an over-sleeper!

_

On Conversation...

On Conversation by William Shakespeare...

Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood.

Considering this quote... the only thing that I can think of talking about is the weather report that warned of thunderstorms and a flood watch. Any skepticism about this report was washed away when I saw ducks on the street!

Even so, the sky cleared up and the sun shone. And I guess we should be glad that the weather changes like it does. Otherwise, 4 of 5 people wouldn't even be able to start a conversation!

_

Amused to the hilt!

I took a trip to the town built on chocolate. Milton S. Hershey opened the chocolate factory and with it a "model town" with all the trimmings. Hershey Park being one of them, opened in 1907. A treat all the way... it even smells of chocolate!! The place features a chocolate factory, a zoo, museums, gardens, and a whole lotta shopping. Sweet - ain't it?

Being the adrenaline junkie that I am - I made a bee-line for the most agressively rated thrill rides. Bring on the 'many unexpected, rapid changes in speed, direction, and/or elevation'.

The Great Bear - exhilaration machinified!


Riding below the track (instead of on it) and moving at a mile a minute, it lifted me 90 feet into the air, tossed me, flipped me, yanked me, and dropped me 124 feet - only to lift me up and do it all over.

All this on the first row with my feet flailing up in the air and leaving me begging for more!














Of all the rides I've been on, the Storm Runner takes the cake (along with the stomach)!


Before I could say "here we go" it has launched me from 0-72mph in 2 seconds flat - and that was just the beginning! It's a freak-show of a ride that romps down an action packed 2600 feet of steel track in 30 seconds. I rode in the first row of the second car and my stomach followed in the 2nd row of the 9th car.

I would've described how I imagined the coaster attempted to shoot me off to Pluto. But, after all the demoralization that the poor dwarf planet has gone through... I decided to leave it to it's unusually elliptical orbit and out of my description.


The coaster continued to storm up 18 stories and then drop down even faster. Before I could comprehend what I was looking at, the vision had already flashed past. After all the loops, rolls and dives... forget east or west... I had no idea which direction was up!

Among other activities like arcading, sightseeing, shopping and pressing pennies - I stood in serpentine lines (for rides, food, souveniers). It's lines like these that demand engaging company. And thanks to the fascinating company I had, conversations floated between making jokes (mostly at others' expense), discussing the perils of the rides and designing strategies to jump from one ride to another in mid-air... and I didn't realize when time flew by faster than the rides!

And I can't wait to do it all again!
.

Orkomeos

Orkomeo - (Orkut+ Romeo) A category of the male Homo sapien who dwells in a virtual world of social networking. Usually on the hunt for ever-lasting virtual love, but is willing to stop by every suitable candidate and try out his flirting skills(?) and collection of miserable pick up lines. Has also been described as creepy, desperate and disillusioned.

Can be categorized as:

Narcissism personified -

The kind who's orkut album always contains a pic that he clicked of himself in the mirror. Dreamy eyes. Pouty lips. Shirt buttons half undone. No wonder he couldn't get anyone else to click that picture!

Our John Abraham wannabe bravely performed the task on his own.. and in a momentary lapse of both sanity and modesty, put it up on the public album.

Then, goes on to describe himself in various degrees of cool and sexy and also posts a link to a Yahoo! album (orkut's 12 pic album would never suffice to capture him in all his good-looking glory).


Old-fashioned-lover-boy -

The kind that scraps an ode to your eyes (stolen right out of Shah Rukh's luscious lips). Their depth, their color and their innocence. Doesn't matter if the only pic you have on display has you wearing shades.

Proceeds to scrap you with images of a teddy bear and tweety bird... closely followed by a request to start a long lasting sincere relationship with you.

Already? you don't want to pen a poem about my pancreas first?


Mood Swinger -

This is the kind that hosts an album with close-up pics in every mood and the most unimaginative captions. And scraps you to say "album updated just for you".

Me smiling in happy manner.
Me stepping out of house after snow-storm.
Me 60% sad and a 40% angry.
Me thinking (sometimes hee hee).

The next one should really be:

Me- dying of sheer embarrassment!

Couldn't feast my eyes on the rest as the server misbehaved... no donut for you!


Dude in Distress -

hi cutie... i'm new to orkut.. could you please help me out.

Sure didn't need help finding me through sam > Satan > aishwarya rai > badal...why does it rain > ramprasad doesn't want to study!

Needless to mention it's the lamest pick-up like since apna 70's bollywood hero mouthed the words 'aap ko pehle kahin dekha hai'.

Unfortunately for him, I'm old to orkut and opt to ignore such requests.


Active Return-Visitor -

The kind that waits with bated breath for his daily visitor activity and sends every female on the list a friendship request. At times these are accompanied by scraps like...

hi baby... so u visited my profile. what u decided? my friend? or something more ;) ?

kya dekhna chahti hai? milna hai tho email kar...

One click!... thats all it took to invite this calamity upon myself.


Several other types (including the hopeful hunk and the message maniac) and sub-types of the species are swarming the virtual world and there are new ones mushrooming as you're reading these very words.

As orkut continues to be my primary source of entertainment... I haven't deleted my account as yet and have prepared myself to endure a few orkomeos [:)] !

.

The pursuit of beauty

I spent all winter in layers of clothing – hats, scarves, gloves… the works! Just exposing the little part of my face that contributed towards sight and respiration. But as the warmer months came along – hemlines grew shorter, necklines wider and sleeves disappeared. Natural beauty is suddenly in focus.

Confucius had said: Everything has its beauty but no one sees it.

Just like no one saw any beauty in the dryness of my skin from the extreme winter and in the eruptions on my face thanks to the developing heat. I guess wrapping yourself up for months just makes you forget about the existence of elbows and knees until other persnickety people point out how chapped they are.

I never fussed about my skin during my teenage years. (Was too busy climbing trees and falling off of them). So, instead of attracting herds of love-sick teenage boys, I drew to myself a large number of nosey aunties who offered me herbal remedies, mythical creams, unrelenting (and unsolicited) advice and even prayer! After the creams malfunctioned and the yagnas fizzled, I sought out a dermatologist. She told me how simple it was - drink more water, sleep peacefully for 8 hours every night and most importantly, stay away from any food that was oily or cheesy or junk. In the fear that my taste-buds would plot a mutiny, I proceeded to treat myself to some samosas and paani-puris!

Flash forward – this summer, I decided to enhance my beauty quotient and improve the business of Bath and Body works. Since it looked like I had missed out on the ‘pre-summer treatments’ – I had a lot of catching up to do! I undoubtedly belonged to the ‘misbehaving’ skin type (as the attendant pointed out with a dazzling smile and a quick scan of my face). I needed to super-scrub my skin, then lift it and then dramatically firm it. Then, of course, I had to get sea-swept-just-flaunt-it hair, an all-day perfect pout and 3x fuller lashes!

I couldn’t have said it better than Helen Fielding –

'Being a woman is worse than being a farmer - there is so much harvesting and crop spraying to be done: legs to be waxed, underarms shaved, eyebrows plucked, feet pumiced, skin exfoliated and moisturized, spots cleansed, roots dyed, eyelashes tinted, nails filed, cellulite massaged, stomach muscles exercised. The whole performance is so highly tuned you only need to neglect it for a few days for the whole thing to go to seed.'

Needing all the help I could get, I researched every skin-care and make-up tip that the fashion magazines and beauty pundits could scrounge up. It's ironical how beauty magazines make you feel terribly ugly. With models staring contemptuously out of those pages with their o-so-perfect air-brushed glow – my skin in comparison felt like an oil-field. (I could probably give Texas a run for its money). And then, I had the arduous task of deciding between a how-to-get-movie-star-skin-tones-in-20-days makeover and a transform-yourself-to-look-great-naked-in-1-month makeover.

In the meantime - until I have amplified my attractiveness and uncovered the 10 best kept beauty secrets of women who have never had a bad hair day – I have resorted to a bit of camouflage and large earrings and a larger grin to draw attention away from other flaws.

But, seriously, with everyone in the pursuit of perfection, I often wonder – isn’t the absence of flaw in beauty a flaw in itself?

.

Seven green bottles standing on the wall

Seven green bottles standing on the wall
We drank wine from each of ‘em all
If another drink followed withal
There is no doubt we’d absolutely fall

Seven green bottles standing on the wall
Just a little sip had started it all
Then countless laughs and stories tall
And several moments to totally enthrall

The first green bottle stood on the wall
And camaraderie took over the hall
Guards and defenses were let to fall
The friendship element now firmly installed

Seven green bottles standing on the wall
Soon talk started to turn into a drawl
Writing looked more like a scrawl
And eyelids just couldn’t stay open after all

Seven green bottles standing on the wall
Hugs all around and bid adieu to all
And then followed an odd footfall
It’s now six green bottles standing on the wall

Adapted from Ten Green Bottles

Accidentally speaking

I’m a sucker for adventure sports and my white-water rafting trip was absolutely rapturous! The adrenaline rush, the spray of water on my face, the rhythm of the rowing, and exploring the underwater wildlife... after I’d launched myself headlong into the river!

Luckily, my brain didn’t go numb from the cold water and I held up my oar to indicate where I was. My boat-mates yanked, dragged and hauled me back on.

Most people return from a vacation or a trip with souvenirs and loads of cheerful anecdotes. I come laden with a collection of bumps, bruises and burns.

But, hey... rafting is one of those dangerous activities, right? Accidents are a part of the deal. However, when I just topple off my chair on a daily basis, these dangerous activity excuses just fall flat.[1] Especially after I have been involved in knocking my head on my computer screen, tripping over my own left foot and walking into a road sign.[2]

No wonder my friend once wrote about me:

FUN n ACCIDENT-PRONE...n if you stay around her long enough, u better have insurance!

Being outdoorsy, I always tried to participate in sports at school. At the start of the running race, when the gun was fired and most kids are seen zooming away – I slipped and fell and lay smelling the grass. And during volleyball, I invariably blocked with my face. When I’d had enough, I resigned to a more placid activity, like chess. It was nice, quiet and bruise-less, until I elegantly knocked the chessmen off the board![3]

Once in a blue moon, my adult instincts do take over and I do manage to walk around like a normal person. You know – when the left foot steps forward, the right one eventually follows. It fills me with pride and I feel no less than a super-hero! What with my ability to navigate protruding pieces of furniture successfully and to move an object from point A to point B without so much as a dent. And just as I’m marveling over my cat-like reflexes, my SO chooses to slam the door on my delicate, innocent little finger![4]

I have come to realize that I can’t even get through a meal without trying to maim myself with the spoon – and I have come to believe that I am the inspiration for Murphy’s Law.[5] And there’s no point trying to make anything fool-proof. I’m just too talented a fool!

---

[1] Only I understand the perils of an innocent looking plastic chair.

[2] One particular day I walked into a sign in the middle of the street. Funny how the sign read ‘detour’ and my feet refused to.

[3] This time it was my opponent who chose to bruise me.

[4] A gruesome incident that left one person seriously injured and another desperately apologetic.

[5] It has also been suggested that I’m just plain stupid. But, I plan to ignore such statements just as I did the road sign.

Penning away...

* Warning: This is one whacky post! But, there's more to what the eye can see. Don't miss the comments section!

After watching Adaptation and exploring the thought process of a screenwriter, I tried to verbalize my thoughts while I pen a poem...
(No, I wouldn't even dare compare myself to Kaufman... just one of my whimsical rhymes!)

Poetry is a form of art
And I’m wondering how to start
I’ll play with language and with word
At times ostensible, at others absurd
Several reasons that I could write
Reasons profound or quite trite
I could let grief take over me
And question life and mortality
At times I write of situations irate
Also, now and then, I procrastinate
Prefer rhymes that help with the flow
Maybe this time I won’t use it though
And try to write like I would prose
I might like what comes to be
Or try a different rhyming scheme
Picking my lines and my themes
But when the rhymes turn a trying task
I’ll just introduce an oxygen mask
On ambiguity I just might rely
And not make clear what I imply
If I’m somber and yet it’s funny
Would you appreciate the irony?
O please don’t answer so quick
My question was simply rhetoric
Trying to follow these lyrical rules
Hoping - I don’t come across a fool
But, if you think I’m rambling on
And this poem should be withdrawn
Let me say in my defense -
It is my right, my poetic license!

Adaptation

Adaptation (2002) - IMDB

Charlie Kaufman writes the way he lives... With Great Difficulty. His Twin Brother Donald lives the way he writes... with foolish abandon. Susan writes about life... But can't live it. John's life is a book... Waiting to be adapted. One story... Four Lives... A million ways it can end.

It’s not a story about books. It’s about creation. After getting into the mind of John Malkovich, Charlie Kaufman tries to tell the story of his own mind. His own creativity. And comes up with a movie that tells the story of its own creation.

Nicholas Cage recuperates from Captain Corelli’s Mandolin to star in Adaptation where he plays the screenwriter of the same film. What kind of a story would that be, u ask? One that’s smart, inventive and indescribable.

Anyone who has wanted to write and to express themselves on paper has felt frustration. Charlie Kaufman in this movie is such a frustrated screenwriter (He is also overweight, balding and wishes he was someone else). He is trying hard to adapt a non-fiction book... but his efforts seem to go nowhere. He thinks about the book, the writer of the book (played beautifully by Meryl Streep) and tries to delve into her mind – into her creative thought process. This leads to a non-linear story-telling process that engages and absorbs. He mocks the various clichés that screenwriters use to engage viewers and then ingeniously uses these very situations to make a movie that is anything but clichéd.

This is one movie that has made me think like no movie ever has. Among all the wrong starts, the ramblings and whacking off... there are so many subtle jokes, wise-cracks and self-references that you’re blown away by the originality and genius of Charlie Kaufman.

Sure, we’d like to be original. But, most of the time we can’t help but sensationalize the story. And play into pretensions.

Charlie Kaufman (played by Nicholas Cage): I don't want to cram in sex or guns or car chases or characters learning profound life lessons or growing or coming to like each other or overcoming obstacles to succeed in the end. The book isn't like that, and life isn't like that, it just isn't.

And when you find that that's exactly how the movie ends... don’t think that it’s a clever movie that ends in an out-of-place, silly mess. That’s the intention. The parody.

The movie weaves between fiction and reality, innovation and repetition... as Charlie Kaufman suffers from intermittent out-of-body experiences and writes himself into a script that is supposed to adapt a book that has nothing to do with him in the first place. It can only get twistier and undeniably cleverer.

The last act makes the film. Wow them in the end, and you've got a hit. You can have flaws, problems, but wow them in the end, and you've got a hit.

Kaufman wows and how!

Aaaaaaah - the heat!

Today’s Weather:

Excessive Heat Warning
A VERY HOT AND HUMID AIRMASS WILL REMAIN IN PLACE THROUGH TODAY. ACTUAL AIR TEMPERATURES ARE FORECAST TO TOP OUT BETWEEN 95 AND 100 DEGREES, HOWEVER WITH THE ADDED HUMIDITY, HEAT INDEX VALUES WILL RISE INTO THE 105 TO 110 DEGREE RANGE.

I’m completely dehydrated, lethargic and I’m typing a lot slower. My fingers may have melted from the heat and gotten shorter! Also, my laptop refuses to cool and burns cryptic messages into my thighs! A lukewarm shower is in order. (That’s the coolest my shower goes in this weather!)

Six months of a frigid winter - I craved for June, July and August. I think the large disparity in weather conditions causes episodic memory loss. I’m sure that by the end of this year when my toes will be shorter due to frost-bite... I’ll be talking about the beautiful weather we had on Aug 3rd 2006.

As I sit among 3 fans blowing hot air onto me (and dust for good measure), I can’t help but think - we could all learn something from the weather. It is the least affected by criticism!

My creative outlet

I was always in awe of art and artists. My mom painted beautifully... and I wanted to be just like her. At age 5, I started to draw apples on a plate. The apples and the plate were so grossly disproportionate that I was forced to change the title of my work to ‘Apples in a Giant’s mouth’.

I accepted that drawing wasn’t my style. But, the urge to create remained. I reached out to paints. I proceeded to paint everything from glass to pots to the neighbor’s dog!

Luckily, my parents never discouraged me. Hoping to encourage me into making another masterpiece involving fruit and the mouths of colossal beings, they exhibited all my higgledy-piggledy dust-laden work on our mantle. (Except the dog. It kept peeing in the house and we had to let the neighbors have him back).

‘Practice makes perfect’ they said and packed me off to art class. After spending 3 weeks below C level, I had to come up for air! Conventional drawing and painting wasn’t for me!

Candle making turned out to be my calling. I made some beautiful candles - some in glass containers and others that stood proudly on their own showing off their flame. I’m sure my family was relieved to find something to replace the other atrocities taking over our living room. Didn’t matter that my house looked like something out of a Harlequin romance!

But this was only until the day the sink was clogged with all the little bits of wax that had been flowing through it. I am now extremely skilled at using a plunger and unclogging plumbing. Could that qualify as art?

And my mom had to have ‘the talk’ –
“Maybe you should direct your creative outlet elsewhere. Why don’t you focus on something more sublime? (read: easy to dispose of)”

I decided to write. Easier to store and the ones that didn’t qualify – lined the shelves in my dresser. My exhibition has now moved from my mantle to clutter up cyberspace. When I drift on to a new hobby, it will join the heap of cyber-junk created by lost passwords and orphaned web pages. Until then... I’ll subject you to it!

Major Issues

Came across Blogthings on this blog and tried one out for myself. This is what it said about me...

Your Scholastic Strength Is Deep Thinking

You aren't afraid to delve head first into a difficult subject, with mastery as your goal. You are talented at adapting, motivating others, managing resources, and analyzing risk.

You should major in:

Philosophy
Music
Theology
History
Foreign language

I pondered over being a

Philosophy major: Worrying over trees falling in forests and the sounds these trees might or might not make... I don’t think so!

Music major: After listening to the sound I create, it might be better listening to trees fall!

Theology major: Does God love me or the trees? Would He love me more if I sat on a tree? I should give up now... for God’s sake!

History major: What era? Which Emperor? Whose family tree? Amnesia attacks!

Foreign language major: tree, baum, árbol, albero, árvore ... I could probably do this. As long as it’s single words.

Conclusion:

I shouldn’t believe blogthings and remain an Engineer. Although there are times I wish it was a tree that fell on Newton... not just an apple!

.

The room-mate blues

Being a poor graduate student in USA, living situations left a lot to be desired. And being a woman engineer, I thought looking for a room-mate (pref. female) was an ordeal. Little did I know what was going to follow…

There are a lot of room-mates I’ve come across... some my own and some of my friends’. Each with their own brand of antics and eccentricities…

The Radically Religious
The kind that won’t allow anyone to speak while prayer is in progress, until the lamp in the alter has gone off or anywhere there’s an agarbatti. Needless to say… a quiet household.

When the silence is finally broken and daily house duties are discussed, you discover that - for religious reasons, she won’t cook before sunset on Mondays or Wednesdays and after sunset on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

‘Well… any restrictions on Friday?’

‘I think we should fast together on Friday. Will help in bonding.’

The Nodder
The kind that nods so frantically every time you bring up a chore, the eagerness touches you. But, it’s all nod and no muscle (except the ones in the neck)!

Soon, the dirty dishes overflow out of the sink and onto the window-sills and the fridge preserves molds and some very questionable liquids.

Finally, you dump out the contents of the fridge as well as the dishes into a couple of trash bags.

‘Could you take the trash out?’

*nod nod nod*

It’s a girl thing…
The kind that thinks cleaning floors or the bathroom are not womanly duties.

‘Eeewwwwwwww’

Look out for a post titled ‘How the boys across the hall were tricked into menial tasks’

Me, myself and IIT
I have a lot of respect for IIT and its products. But, just because I didn’t study there don’t treat me like a dimwit. How come IIT doesn’t teach mutual respect?

This is the kind that brags her head off and (being from IIT) thinks it her duty to teach you the perfect way to turn on the stove or boil water and then proceeds to put an egg in the microwave!

Do you want me to describe the stink, the drips and the mess after it explodes… or are you in the mood for experiments?

The Angry Blogger
The kind that doesn’t believe in discussing issues face-to-face. Instead it culminates in an angry blog.

“Can’t believe that bitch.. how could she???....”

Hey, don’t accuse me… I did try to talk… when all failed… I blogged

The Furtive Ferret
The kind that is extremely compassionate as long as you’re around and the minute you’re absent – eats your food and uses that expensive lotion of yours.

Of course, when you notice the seventh can of coke disappear, you pose questions. All she does is shrugs innocently.

To avoid a hostile situation, you believe there lives a soda-loving-ghost in your trash can.

The Cleopatra Kind
The kind that spends every minute of her livelong day primping and preening in front of the mirror and bathroom sessions last an eternity.

By now, you’re the expert at holding back those urges to pee. What really irks is the sub-kind that does all of the above, but claims not to. She claims to waking up with hair sprayed and eyelashes tinted.

Of course, these beauty treatments leave no time for trivial tasks like washing the dishes or flushing the toilet.

‘What?! And ruin my manicure???’

The Hygienically Impaired
The kind that showers once in a blue moon and dirties the bar of soap instead of getting clean. The apartment is laden with her body odor and unmentionables take over every inch of the bathroom.

And there is an ‘occasional best-friend roomie’ who turns out to be your extended family and someone you can really count on. It’s that hope that keeps me going on.

Room-mates – can’t live with ‘em, can’t live without ‘em!

Rained

Had written this a few years ago in India... in the hot and humid Bombay summer! Thought about these lines once more – after a couple of summer days here hit 100 F and an occasional thunderstorm rolls in to relieve us from the sweat, sultriness and lethargy.

The sun glared at the earth,
Causing the latter all but mirth;
The land burned alike a kiln;
That's when it started to begin
The sun commenced to disappear
And a cloud shed a tear
Gently falling to the ground,
Dampened a little spot around.
With a smile and a hopeful eye,
I looked up toward the sky;
I watched clouds blanket the space,
As the raindrops kissed my face.
A flash of light, a loud roar,
Pursued by the downpour.
The rain spattered singing a song
And the trees danced along.
A cool breeze blew about
The heat routed and driven without.

We mallus are a funny breed

We mallus are a funny breed!
Coconut oil is what we need -
We pour plenty into our hair;
And any food we do prepare;
The land of coconuts indeed!

We mallus are a funny breed!
The elephant - our royal steed
A part of every ceremony;
Fed - until not one is puny;
God save us in a stampede!

We mallus are a clever breed!
Education is our creed -
We rant and rave;
Of every brain-wave;
With a great deal of conceit!

We mallus are a hairy breed!
A bearded man - it is decreed!
Stubbled and bristled;
Wouldn’t know if he whistled
The razor blade has no need!

We mallus are a verbose breed!
We talk at an incredible speed
Mis-pronouncing every vowel
Until you throw in the towel
Then to the consonants we proceed!

We mallus - what a funny breed!
Our curly hair is just like tweed -
We primp, we press and we tweak;
We style and try to turn it sleek;
But to the frizz we must concede!

Remembering Ammamma...

My grandmother was abso-flippin’-lutely the coolest - especially considering she was 80. Apart from the typical grandmotherly caring, she would enjoy loud music (and dancing once in a while); knew that us young folk like to follow fashion trends; and understood that people just fall in love and families should accept it and be supportive! Gman and I often talked about how we wouldn’t be surprised if we saw Ammamma cruise by on a skateboard wearing multicolored bermuda shorts.

Unfortunately, this coolness factor seemed to have skipped a generation. My cousins and I had mastered the art of begging and groveling to our parents for every basic need - Eminem cds, tank tops, and the occasional rock show! Strategies were swapped and we decided that if we were ever to, accidentally, fall in love... it would have to remain a clandestine affair. Ammamma would be the only confidante!

Much younger, I had lived with her for a couple of years, back in Madras. And later, she lived with me in Bombay. Hundreds of Malayalam movies and scores of chess matches later, we knew we shared a very special bond.

This day, 2 years ago, Ammamma passed away... leaving behind memories of her smile and an unimaginable void. Poetry was my way of coping with my grief.

I need someone –
To lend me a shoulder to cry
To wipe a tear off my eye
Someone to hold tight and sigh
Someone to help me bid good-bye

I need someone –
Not to preach and teach
Nor to make a speech
But silently understand my grief
And the pain in my heart so deep

When one has been
A part of my lifetime
From bed-time stories and silly rhymes
Through my lows and at my prime
Can the void be filled by time?

I need someone –
Who can share my sorrow
And help all the emotions flow
Pain, regret, & a feeling so hollow
Because a very special person is no more.

Stumped!

Cricket commentary

“And it’s a FOUR... touch of outswing... supremely timed... to the extra cover boundary... he opened the face so well... hardly appeared to hit the ball yet it flew across the turf...”

I’d gotten used to hearing those words over and over again... sometimes loud, sometimes cackled. I’d gotten used to being completely ignored or getting single-syllable replies (if I’m lucky) from people ogling at TV screens. And this goes on for 5 days at a stretch sometimes!

I’d gotten used to cricketers jumping out at me from magazines and newspapers and selling me everything from cars to mixed-fruit jams to the very shirts on their backs! It’s a world where the duck is not something on the menu, the slip is more than an undergarment and the the third man has nothing to with a kinky love affair!

I don’t hate cricket... hate is too strong a word... but I am not crazy about it either. Sure, I watch a match or two, shake my fist at the screen once in a while, clap a bit and nibble at my nail during the last couple of overs. But, if I don’t watch a cricket match ever again... I wouldn’t complain either.

This confession of mine has often been hazardous to my well-being and I have had to face the consequences of opening my big mouth. I have been shunned, declared a pariah and one person in particular (who carried Sachin Tendulkar’s cricket stats in his wallet) said that it was immoral of me!

I’m now in a land where cricket is still an insect and my morality isn’t questioned over the lack of match viewing. I thought there would be less madness.

But the cricket-lover species here is incredible. I can understand downloading videos of matches and looking at photographs... but when they’re staring at numbers on an online scorecard all day and still call it exciting... that’s just taking it over the edge! I now have to get used to being completely ignored by people refreshing the webpage on their computer screens!

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

Apparently this frustration has gone on pretty long...

Here’s something I wrote at age 12...

I find Cricket
a very funny game..
but everyone goes crazy
at the mention of its name !

The bowler starts the show
by throwing a ball at the bat
the batsman flips it into the air
the one who gets it yells "Howzzat!"

The batsman tries to defend
three wooden sticks.
and if he hits the ball too hard
everyone shouts aloud "Six !"

The Umpire has no job
other than waving his hand.
but the players obey only him
and none other on land.

I wonder whether I will
ever understand this game.
but everyone goes crazy
at the mention of its name !

How Chemical Engineering...

took over my life!

• My towels are categorized by absorption capacity
• I dress according to the heat exchange capacity and porosity of my clothing
• I have personalized safety goggles. And the marks they leave on my face are so becoming!
• A personalized hard hat is next on my shopping list.
• I read up the difference between condensed milk and evaporated milk
• I know the direction the water swirls when I flush the toilet
• When I talk of pumps, they happen to be more centrifugal than stylish!
• I point to everything in sight (the paint on the wall, the clothes someone wears, even their toothbrush) and say “A Chem Engg probably did that”!
• Next, I talk about how versatile we are... making everything from a potato chip to a micro-chip!
• I took courses in stripping and various kinds of beds and the only thing sleazy about it was the amount of homework!
• When I add oil to boiling pasta, I think of surface tension
• I study my hairspray’s flammable properties
• I use nail polish remover for more than just removing nail polish
• I wash my hands before I go to the bathroom (occupational hazard?)
• I’m high on solvent fumes most of the time
• I refer to roaming aimlessly as Brownian movement
• Half the time my significant other hasn’t the foggiest idea what I talk about!

And if you thought I’m really into the subject... here’s a review of Perry's Chemical Engineers' Handbook by Eric Gunther from New York , 18 October, 1998

"A riveting book from start to finish! Perry has outdone himself once again. The seventh edition is even more of a show-stopper than the previous editions. I read this book from cover to cover in one sitting, unable to put it down for a moment, not even to relieve myself! The molecular weights were so accurate and the heats of reaction made my spine tingle. Once I reached the section discussing distillation and tray efficiencies I knew I was hooked. I won't give away the ending but it's definitely a shocker. Bravo to Mr. Perry's and I am counting the days to the release of your 9th edition!"

If tomorrow never comes

If tomorrow never comes
Would I have regrets
Would I be satisfied
Would there be thoughts unspoken
Would there be deeds never done

What would be the last I’d say
Would the words be happy or sad
Would it be out of contemplation
Or just a simple goodbye

Have I spread smiles in my life
Or feelings of woe
Have I done all that I can
To help the ones I know

Have I said all I needed to say
And listened to all said to me
Have I told the ones I love
All that they mean to me

If tomorrow never comes
Would I have regrets
Would I be satisfied
Would all my thoughts be spoken
Would all the deeds be done

Terror

Tuesday Terror has hit my favorite city!!

Bombay doesn't deserve this! After being plummeted by rains, and vandalized by politics, our trains and the people in them were brutally ripped apart!

I feel a lump in my throat.... This is the city that made me who I am. Strong, resilient and never failing to help others. It taught me to dream big, to win some, to lose some, and bounce back up even when my luck is down. You can take me out of Bombay... but not Bombay out of me!

I just hope that Bombay and all those injured/killed by such an attack receive justice. I hope that this doesn't turn out to be just a few days of "high alert" and then forgotten into heaps of official files. I hope there will be enough investigation and appropriate measures taken.

The city, I know, will never lose hope. Bombay will only come out of it more resilient. And Bombaiites will continue to smile through the tough times, and help each other through the rough times.

Spare me your trickery

A big smile; a friendly wave;
So wonderfully well-behaved;
But the minute I turn away -
Out come the claws to deprave!

There’s no evil ploy I devised,
Nothing ever said in vice,
I can’t see, I can’t surmise
Why I am being criticized!

Is it that we once disagreed?
Or is it just plain jealousy?
Did I cause distress to thee?
Or bring about an allergy?

You’d never know all of me -
My joys, my sorrow, my anxiety!
There’s much more to what you see
Or what you think you do perceive

So I pray – just let me be
And spare me all your trickery
There’s no need to befriend me
And no need to make me your enemy!

From Romeo and Juliet...

From Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare...

'What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.'

A person by any other name, unfortunately, smells the same too!

_

The room-mate diaries

I came to a place unknown,
Far away and all alone;
Full of hope and a li’l fear;
Trying not to shed a tear;

When the roommate came along,
Braggadocio all day long;
A tiny brain, an ego so big,
Living as dirty as a pig;

Found no solace at this abode -
Always sad or just plain bored.
And at times painfully wry
The abuses were let to fly!

The lease can’t last too long;
I have to be a little strong;
And if my nerve starts to drop -
There’s a couch at the coffee shop!


(I don't wish to reveal on this blog when and with whom such a traumatic incident took place. Call me up and we’ll gossip about it instead!)

Superman et al.

Watched Superman Returns a couple of days ago. One Yahoo! User said - It's Brilliant, It's Superb, It's Superman! Frankly, I didn't think it was Superb! But, I didn't think it was bad! Well, there was the complete lack of chemistry between the Man of Steel and Lois Lane, Lex Luthor's preposterous ploy and the Indian actor's jarring silence.... but, I still didn't think it was too bad. Although, I must say - Christopher Reeve was sorely missed!

There's always a charm to a Superhero - the courage, the nobility and abilities that surpass the normal human being. So what if you had to live a lie, never fall in love and be on call 24/7! I'm sure the aerial views and the adulation make up for it!

Got talking about Superheroes and noticed that women tend to gravitate towards our friendly neighborhood Spider-man (The arachnophobes just nodded along for the fear that they might not fit in). Got me thinking... is it 'cuz he's just the boy next door - juggling his personal struggles with his heroic exploits. Is there a humanness we can relate to? Is it the up-side down kiss? Or is it the timid guy open to henpecking-potential?

Superman - the most influential and popular superhero of DC Comics - tends to come across as far too noble and much too invulnerable. I'd never think I was good enough for him... would suffer from self-esteem issues... and would probably drive myself paranoid just thinking of him around that Wonder Woman ($!&#)! And I'm sure my Superman and I wouldn't be able to afford couples' counseling on what the Daily Planet pays!

My Significant Other thinks Batman is the Ultimate Superhero. He seems like the rich, snooty businessman type. Batman that is, not my SO. My SO is not at all snooty and unfortunately not very rich either. Sigh. Anyway, Batman doesn't possess superpowers. He makes use of detective skills and technology in his war on crime... and did I forget to mention millions of dollars? I crave the appeal of someone fighting abjection. And the dark side didn't bode too well with the female audience. Sorry, I said - and the ladies agreed. Crushed, my SO now wished he had an invisibility cape or the power to blend in with the walls.

He may not have a cape, but he does have superpowers. (.. now it's my SO I'm talking about..). He has his wit, his humor, his understanding and his charisma. He makes his funny faces, tells his jokes, gives me a bear hug and rescues me from my problems, my worries, my daily glitches and such little demons that lurk around my reality – just as a Superhero should! In the contest for the best superhero, my vote goes to him!

The procrastinator's poem

Today never looked as opportune

As tomorrow, next week or next june

Ripe with potential

So later is preferential

'Cuz today's just gone too soon

With copious chores to partake

A million excuses I make

In attempts to circumvent

I complain and lament

My will power is staring to flake

I hear we mustn't make haste

'Cuz that would lead to waste

That's why I don't worry

There's no cause to flurry

Slow, but steady wins the race

My time - I do not squander

I contemplate and ponder

About Helen of Troy

Or the capital of Illinois

Or wherever my head wish wander

Now, instead of trying to shirk

I better get back to work

This is the cause

For this little pause

(Will pen the rest next week...)

The Indian Panorama & Aamchi Mumbai

I love telling people that I'm from India. The land of mystery and intrigue. But, I must admit that I absolutely hate it when Americans and other Westerners ask me if I travel on elephants or eat snakes, just because one tribesman happened to do so. How’d they like it if I watched Ripley’s believe it or not and asked if they could all pop their eyes out or sleep with killer bees? Hmph!

Uhhh... where was I? O yes... India - a country just as scenic where the snow falls on the Himalayas as it is where the Indian Ocean flanked by two jubiliant seas washes up on Kanyakumari.

I love how there’s a million different languages we speak, hundreds of festivals we celebrate and scores of different ways that one can get married. The Indian Panorama. That’s what we celebrated in the November of 2004 – half a globe away from our homes. A re-make of Mile Sur Mera Tumhara.

And here's a re-mixed video of our performance (courtesy: moi)...
'Everybody Dance Now'
...also includes clips from plays performed.

(Info: I am the bharatnatyam dancer in pink. Only compliments will be accepted. Brutal honesty and such brickbats shall face my wrath)

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I come from Bombay(Now Mumbai). One of the largest cities in the world. You can go ahead and call us the rudest... but that’s just ‘cuz we don’t believe in superficial formality. It’s a city with a heart, with a pulse. I can’t imagine Mumbai without the hustle and bustle. Everyone has a goal – either lofty or just something to do for the day – but, everyone has one.

People don’t generally have the time to stand around and gawk at what you’re up to. If it’s interesting, you might acquire a couple of lingering glances... followed by a little shake of the head if you are one of those particularly disgusting people.

I think Bombay (oops... Mumbai.. don’t think I’m every gonna get used to that name) has a panorama of it’s own. The suit-clad business man, the temple priest in saffron robes, the fisher-woman, the social activist, the shimmering club-hopper, the tapori at the street corner, the college student in low-rise jeans, the air-conditioned sedan, the auto-rickshaw, the bajaj scooter carrying a family of five and their groceries – we are all Mumbai!! And we co-exist in maybe-not-the-greatest harmony... but it is marvelously harmonious nevertheless. Aamchi Mumbai – love it!!!