Poisoned yet again!

I'm so mad right now. I don't know if I should be, or if I'm just making a mountain out of a mole hill. But yeah, am positively ranting raving mad. And why, is explained below, rather lengthily, I'm afraid -

A friend of mine was in the ladies washroom and overheard some girls talking about me. Yes, plain, boring, uninteresting, depressed, unhappy me. I don't even have enough to say about myself to last 5 minutes, especially at this point in my life. It amazes me that people I don't even know would still find me a worthy washroom subject.

'Have you seen Jerusha's hair? She's completely changed her looks, it's almost like she doesn't want to look North-eastern anymore' said one.

What the fuck!!? How are those related?? Just for the record, I have never felt uncomfortable looking 'North-eastern', as was so diplomatically put. Or should I just say chinky. And I would never make any sort of effort to not look it. I am happy with it, even if I were to get a second life and God came and told me I would look 'chinky' again in my second life, He would not hear me complain. I would happily nod yes, and be happily reborn a North-eastern looking person again.

In fact, their remark is utterly stupid because most North-east girls have very straight hair. One would associate us with straight hair. I have just always been the rougue one with the wild, wavy hair. And if me straightening my hair were to mean me making an effort to look 'something,' it would be to look more like a normal Mizo girl.

'Yeah, she never wore heels before, now she wears them all the time' said another.

This is so ridiculous. I hate people who put up pictures of their shoes and all that crap on their blog, but I will have to do it this time. Let me take a picture of one of my shoe closets - See? All heels. And that's just one half of the 'heels closet' - all bought way before I did anything to my hair, all worn and trampled on many times! I wish you're reading this, you bathroom blabber-mouths :P (I do this pretty well with written words don't i? :P One doesn't stammer and stutter like a fool when provoked, and one can still type when one's crying.)

My friend said they didn't say a lot of remember-able things, but they did sound a little nasty. I am trying to calm myself but more than anything, what pisses me most is them bringing the north-eastern look into the whole thing. I doubt they would have brought 'race' into the whole thing if it was an 'Indian' they were bitching about.

Yes, so I straightened my hair, so what? I straightened it, like many many girls before me, so shoot me! And my new fringes, I hope the police don't come arrest me! I wear high heel shoes, I think I wear them pretty well, you may not like it but they're my feet and my shoes so you'll just have to deal with it.

I'll wake up in the morning, look in my closet, and pick chappals, heels, sneakers, or even rubber slippers if that's what I feel like wearing that day. No reason behind anything except pure, simple want. And that's about all we should feel for things like clothes and shoes and hair I always thought. Not worthy of deeper contemplation. Just little things that give you little pleasure, but they never figure in any bigger picture. Or even smaller-bigger pictures :-) Your hair should not influence what shoes you buy, or vice versa.

Anyway, I just saw a funny site, and I'm not fuming anymore. In fact, I feel a little giggly now. I'd hate to be a woman that pays other women's looks too much attention. I'd just rather reserve that part for the opposite sex. I'd hate to walk out of here, feeling any form of resentment for these people or/and over their remarks. I don't want to fall asleep hating someone.

I believe I'm not a bad person, and even fervently more so in the light of certain incidents. I can even start to believe that I'm a good human being, to other human beings at least. I have this whole issue with God - sinning, and trying to be good in God's eyes, sinning, and yes, sinning, but that's no human's business.

On any decent time, I will most likely not gossip about you, I will sometimes wonder why you wear certain things, but I will respect a person enough to shut up about it. I will probably not harbor vindictive thoughts about you, unless you're an ex-boyfriend that cheated on me recently :D Most of the time, I will have better things to talk about than you, and I will have a life so that I will not be a bitter, resentful person that bitches about people that NEVER harmed you, talked or thought ill about you at all. Or connect a person's haircut with her race.

Plus, I don't have underarm odour, my hair doesn't stink, I take matters of my personal hygiene seriously (Not really all that important, but you meet enough women that stinks and it starts to be something to be shown off :P). I am proudly all that - now why in the world would I want to change from that to anything else? I am not feeling on top of the world right now, but chances are you probably are not either.

As for my new straight hair, and new fringes, when I have make up on, I think I look like a geisha that's been out in the rain, or someone from a Japanese school girl porn movie, but that's about the only downside of it....

-

Where have all the breasted men gone?

My friend Macavity has so much wisdom crammed inside that little head of hers it never fails to amaze me. In her company, I am often overcome with frequent urges to grab a pen and start jotting it down for posterity, or to grab my laptop and start typing them down for lazy internet users. Of course, it never is really possible, because it is usually during important meetings, heavy work hours, or night-out dinners and drink hours that she would chose to dispense most of her stuff.

But smile, all you lucky chicas, for I have here her most useful wisdom of all - how to spot 'good' men. That which has baffled women since time began has now been explained and solved. We now possess the answer girls, we are now armed. No more shall we be hoodwinked, cheated on, lied to, deceived, ensnared, misled - by bad, bad boys. We will know them, steer clear of them even.

But first, a word of caution before I expose you to her words of wisdom. Her wise thoughts when voiced out loud are often in the guise of simpler thoughts, and one usually needs to get in touch with one's inner voices to understand what might seem to a fool, nonsensical ramblings...

"Macavity: ah but what is a chest? and what are breasts? nothing...nothing! A chest is a heart container, breasts are decorative pieces for the container. The heart deserves much to be decorated, but cannot alas be docorated. So even if we cannot gaze at and appreciate the heart, we may at least do so to the container. Appreciate the breasts.

The creator has given some breasts and some he hasn't, and if you'd notice - it is always the breasted ones that have true heart. Men with big breasts are the nobler ones - the bigger the breast, the nobler the heart. How to find good men is as easy as reading chests."

At this point in the discourse, she sent me this picture -

" Macavity: ah, look at that jerusha. Does he not appear dim witted unto you? Lacking in the head. Sexy nevertheless. But definitely not lacking in the body. And anyone, I believe, would rather hold a body than a head. I'm not sure I want to hold a head at all..."

A pause in the discourse, and yet another picture -

"Macavity: Would you hold that body, Jerusha? His chest protrudes not, that i can confess to with much certainty. That one has neither body, head nor chest. But the cop measuring this man

has quite a body. Well comparitively, but still no chest. Might you be willing to hold him?

I would not hold that body. At the same time, I would also like to add that I would not like to hold his head either. Not breasted enough. I tell you again, look for the breasted ones. Therein lies the secret to your emotional and sexual happiness."

:-)

So there we have it, how to spot a good man when he's around. So walk towards the breasted ones. That, according to the Wise One, is the only way to true and eternal earthly bliss.

-

High Society, High Tea & Me

I went to see a Western classical music concert some nights back. 5 star hotel, bejeweled people in glittering clothes, and we turned up in jeans and t-shirts, with enormous laptop backpacks - looking like we'd just descended from the Himalayas. I liked it, because I don't want to be like them.

We were a bit early, and a classy, expensive-looking woman asked us to join them for "high tea" while we waited. That made me almost gag. I thought the British left ages ago! But I can be polite, so I thanked her nicely, gave her some excuse about having to run somewhere, and we escaped to the hotel's bar where we were sure no "high tea" is ever served. I don't want to become a person that drinks high tea.

The string quartet were good. Very Western, very classical - blonde and blue-eyed and neat suits. But I sneezed, my throat tickled endlessly, I couldn't stop fidgeting, I had to fight a serious urge to whip out my iPod but I thought that would be too rude and despite my lack of "culture," I'm not a rude person. It was not that I didn't like the music, I did, but it's still the kind of music that lulls. And I'm a very lull-able person.

They did play a really delightful piece by Rabindranath Tagore at the end, which was better than the Beethovens and Bachs they'd played before, in my opinion. Not that I don't like Beethoven, but I like it spiced up. Like what the Trans Siberian Orchestra and Metallica did to his 5th Symphony. Or to Pachelbel's Christmas Canon. That's my idea of good "classical" music.

More whispers and complaints - "I don't understand the chandeliers..are they even chandeliers?" remarked one friend. "What don't you understand about them?" "They look like they're having a massive hailstorm in here..it's too overdone!"

"I hate those flowers (anthuriums) - they look sordid with those male-genitalia-like-things sticking out of them.."

"The cellist is really cute, I wish he had some serious Indian-fetish..hehe" "Maybe if we join him for high tea..."

"I don't understand why they've spelt 'Quartet' with a double 't' - I hate it, just like the way I hate and will never date men that spell 'Good' G-U-D"...

More titters. More turning heads and glaring eyes.

End of concert, and the crowd gives them a standing ovation. "I don't even know what exactly standing ovations are supposed to mean" said one friend. "It means 'Stand up and ovulate' girls, so let's stand and ovulate."

I had fun, but the fun mostly came from tearing the place and the crowd apart. It wasn't right, but it sure made me laugh. We spared the quartet at least. I find it difficult to understand such a world of pretense and ostentation. And I'm very glad that this is not my world.

I can listen to classical music and even love it in the privacy of my room or my headphones. When one doesn't have to wear fancy clothes and it doesn't have to be associated with high tea. And where you don't have to watch out for high-tea drones - old men with weak necks. No strength to carry their heads upright, I assume, because their faces will continuously be turned down in a bust-level angle, gaze firmly fixed frozen on your chests... **sigh** Poor chaps.

All I know for sure's that high society and I don't mix. Maybe if they take the high tea out, I'd be willing to compromise... :P

.

Breakfast at Tiffany's?

After weeks and weeks of procrastinating, I finally moved into my new apartment last Wednesday. Roomies are away, Tina in Sydney and Tez in Mizoram. So it's just been me calling brokers, running around all over town looking at flats and houses every free time I get. Almost felt a little lonely. But it's been good, friends helped me move, friends stayed with me almost every night so I wouldn't feel so alone in the big 3-bedroom apartment.

Yesterday, Shirley and I got breakfast takeaway, so we could eat in the new place for the first time. We got ourselves a jug of nice strong chai and masala dosas. Because there are things that are still unpacked, it was an ordeal finding crockery. We found plates, and some mugs. But we didn't have anything to put our sambar in. The only things that could contain liquid were glasses - wine glasses, shot glasses, and Martini glasses (Christmas gifts from the Aussies which luckily had never been packed away). So I offered my guest the choice of having her sambar served in wine, shot or Martini glasses. She picked the martini glasses. Pretty fancy way to have sambar. And no spoons either, which meant us directly sipping from the glass, like one would sip Martini :) Classy eh? Our version of breakfast at Tiffany's.. :-)
We both agreed that the sambar in the Martini glasses actually looked a little like Bloody Marys...

Last night was the first time I slept in the house alone. Everything was fine, till I decided to go to bed. All I had to do was shower, brush and sleep. Then I realised the toothpaste was in the other bathroom. Reaching this bathroom meant me having to cross long (well..it seemed pretty long last night) hallways, across the dining room, past the kitchen, past one bedroom, and then into one of the yet menacingly dark and empty rooms, and going across this empty room to reach its bathroom where the toothpaste lay. I didn't brush my teeth last night :D Felt kind of stupid about it when I got up this morning, and it was nice and bright, but I made sure everything that I need is now in MY bathroom!

I'm bored. I wish I could take some time off to travel a bit. No matter how much I may moan about being sick of living off suitcases and packing and unpacking and lugging heavy bags around all the time, I know that's when I'm happiest. When I'm on the move. There are so many little things about traveling that's so good for the soul. I think I'm a better person when I travel, I don't think a lot of bad thoughts, there are so many little things that keep one occupied it's impossible to harbor hateful thoughts. Little things like this 'happy world traveller' :P
Being resentful and spiteful becomes easier when one is cooped up in an enclosed space for hours at a stretch..I somehow just don't think human beings were created to be sitting confined in an enclosed setting for too long. I think God meant for us to be outside in the air and the sun and the rain when he made us...it must be, because that's the time we are good and happy and satisfied without any effort.

If some of us weren't Indian....

Some of us would've died a long time ago :-)

So this piece of information was passed around on IM today between me and my friends - "Article 179 of Iran's penal code punishes with the death sentence anyone caught drinking alcohol more than three times." - Source

My friends responses were hilarious after I IMed them that.

Rumpleteazer: a day?

Macavity: more than three times a day jerusha?
a year?
a week?

They both admit that they would have been executed a long time ago :-)