There suck I! (Not necessarily where the bee sucks :)

I was working on my WinDVD capturing pictures from some of my DVDs some nights back. It was a humbling experience, looking at pictures that remind me that yes, I actually do suck, and *BAD*, at certain things :P Things I suck at, things I lack, there are tons of them but two that stand out most on my mind -

One, my aquatic grace and skills - or the lack thereof :) One thing I am absolutely sure of is that no matter how confident I may be on land and air, I am an absolute clown in the water. I float when I try to sink, and sink when I try to float.

I spent a lot of time on the ocean trying to learn how to float. My expert, state-level swimmer friends did everything they could, they taught me all the tricks they knew, like 'You have to create two little islands in the water!' :P Cute but it didn't help. I just got like 10 shades darker.

Despite all this, I paid a lot of good money for a boat to take me out to the middle of the ocean and do scary things in the water. So they took us to the Great Barrier Reef, where my instructors and my guides had to sit and talk with me for quite a while before I could be convinced to jump into the water. It took them about 15 minutes to convince me to snorkel and almost an hour to dive.

I bravely donned my heavy diving gear, with which I could barely walk because it was so heavy, I closed my eyes and jumped into the water, pretty sure I would immediately sink like a stone, and will have to be shamefully rescued, in front of a boat full of people. I floated.

So here I am bravely jumping into the water, that's me with the pink flippers. So far so good - I didn't sink :D
It was only when everyone I dived with had gone under, and I was the only one still floating like a cork, that I started to suspect that something was not quite right.

When I finally did sink, I knew I was only barely underwater so I was still unafraid. I was, however, the only one to keep complaining that she had water in her mask, or had trouble with the regulator, or that her flippers were coming off. Our instructor would start descending, and we'd follow, then I'd stop and signal furiously that there was something wrong, and he'd come back and check my gear. This is a demeaning feeling, knowing that you're being tended to while you just flail around helplessly, makes you feel like an invalid.

Here he is during one of my false alarms.

A little deeper, and here you can see I'm starting to panic a little and floundering. My friends looked like they were floating on air, and I was starting to seriously thrash around already :P My body just refused to move in the direction I wanted it to.
Because I was holding them up, my instructor took my friends down, and left me, in the mercy of the water :( If they made a movie of the things that went through my head that time, it would make a very interesting movie. Lots of blood and gore, giant sharks, giant squids, and giant blood-sucking nematodes. Being left behind, in the middle of an ocean, only a slippery rope for company, unable to swim, jellyfish and burst capillaries and blocked regulators in your head - not the most pleasant thing in the world. He came back for me later, but hanging there waiting....**shudder** I swear I'm scarred for life.

Anyway, somewhere on our way down, my instructor asked me to change my regulator. I violently shook my head 'NO! Don't take my life support out!!' He signaled me to change it again, I kept shaking my head. So he came and took it out of my mouth. Changed it to the other one. But I couldn't breathe anymore. He saw the fear in my eyes and calmed me down. For like 3 seconds.

Then that was it, I freaked and tried to scramble up, he held me down, which resulted in an all-out fist fight, mostly my fist. I was kicking him and scratching madly at him with everything I had, and he had to let me go.

I don't even remember how in the world I got up to the surface, but I did, and in my panic had forgotten all about my oxygen tank and my regulator. My lungs were bursting, and I broke through the surface, felt air (very good!), and gulped (very bad!). The sea water took that chance to gladly surge into my gaping mouth and down my gutless gut.

I was glad to be alive, but I saw the boat, and the people on it, looking at me. A failure. Scaredy cat. And I felt like such a loser that I wanted to just dive right in again. But I was dragged out of the water and made to eat. I'm sure it was good food, but food just doesn't taste good when you've just helped yourself to generous helpings of water from the Coral Sea.

But anyway, the corals were sure pretty.
And if there's a next time, I will just stick to snorkeling.

Now for my second grudge against God, my height. How many times have I heard the word 'tiny' being used to describe me? I'm okay with my height in India, but once you step out of India and on to the land of giants, is when you start to really hate the words 'tiny', 'small', 'petite' and worst of all, 'short'.

I was the only adult on that boat that day that wore kid flippers. None of the adult ones fitted me. Oh, the shame, the agony! My suits hung loose, my instructor thought I should get a better fitting one, but admitted that he couldn't find anything smaller.

Look at my instructor's massive white flippers. Then look at my pink *ugh* tiny ones. I never thought flippers, of ALL things in the world, would ever conspire against me and be objects that cause me shame!
The skydiving trip also found me trying on a whole range of different suits to find one that would make me look good. In vain.
Look at how snugly and nicely my instructor's black suit weaves around his wrist. And look at my red suit, and my sleeves, and I would like to tell you to also look at my wrists, but you simply can't see wrists. However, if I look closely enough, I think I can see the tips of my fingers. And you wear something like that, and jump from a plane, then you'll feel like you've sprouted wings from the way everything flaps so crazily about and around you. I was wearing my jeans, and two full-sleeved T-shirts under that suit. And still I flapped :(

But I'm not complaining. I would if either my general clumsiness in the water, or my height, had stopped me from doing the things I did. But they didn't. And for that, I am grateful. But, I will continue to date only tall men. Some sort of insurance for my kids if I ever decide to get married :-)

.

Aggravated Vocabulary Battery

I am not a fancier of big words, like I've mentioned a sickening amount of times before. For me, communication is all about getting the message across, the best way it can be done. Even if it means using simple, common words and impressing no one.

Don't get me wrong, I agree there are times when pretty words and obscure sentences are not only welcome, but necessary. If you're writing poetry, for example, or a song in some cases, simplicity doesn't always work. In fact, I love poetry so much I think it should always be beautiful, and that it's better to not write one at all if one can't do a good job of it, or write it, but don't publish it or push it in people's faces.

Crap poetry is more painful than a toothache, and the practice of writing them should be vehemently discouraged. In the same way, people who write nursery-rhyme-type songs that rhyme like, well, nursery rhymes should be strongly persuaded to stop writing and take up some other hobby. Like knitting. Or cross-stitch.

This song (courtesy of BW) is a good example of bad song writing. Apologies to all fans, but I think it's an uninteresting, extremely banal song. I, of course, also know that I can't do any better, but that is precisely why I'm not writing any, going around fancying myself a poet or a song writer.

Conversely, simplicity, even though it's hard to go wrong with it, also can be disastrous sometimes. Like this message I got from someone I know, whose identity will not be revealed, which makes it okay to use the person's message as an example here - he said "dear, no one waste time, in waste thing."

That, to me, is more baffling than 'phenomenological' or 'sesquipedalian septuagenarian.' I needed an interpreter, and who better than the Wise Macavity! Her explanation - "Ah! Profound. So the way I see it, you cannot waste time when you're wasting it on something that's to be wasted, it's like the angst of life, a wasted life. Therefore, what is time, in this spectrum of wasted life? Nothing! Therefore, not wasted."

I think that's a brilliant interpretation. But it's not right to have to need someone to interpret you when you're not even quoting poetry.

Maybe sometimes it's just our fault. For our lack of comprehension and inability to grasp things. Particularly words and sentences. We were googling a certain song writer when a convicted sexual offender from Tennessee by the same name came up in our searches. Which led us to the Tennessee Sexual Offender Registry site, which, to say the least, was of huge interest to us - looking at the offenders' pictures, wondering about their lives, and what crimes they committed, which in most cases was 'AGGRAVATED SEXUAL BATTERY.'

Macavity was as perplexed as I, we were not quite sure what exactly that felony involved. We deciphered that whatever it was, it involved the offender battering someone, in an aggravated manner, sexually. Which was not really sufficient.

We decided to do a search, and Wiki tells us that "Sexual battery may be defined as non-consensual touching of the intimate parts..." "As successor to the common law crime of mayhem, this is sometimes subsumed in the definition of aggravated assault."

Our first encounter with the word subsume. Oh glory! A new challenge! I didn't like the word, because it makes me think of the word 'exhume' and consequently, rotting human flesh. Macavity says it makes her think of Science and academics. But according to Dictionary.com, no rotting flesh or science or academics, subsume simply means "to consider or include (an idea, term, proposition, etc.) as part of a more comprehensive one."

This infuriated Macavity greatly. "Why cant they just say 'include'? Pompous, and full of themselves! They should be battered, and fried, like pancakes." she said. I agree with her.

Anyway, abandoning the subject of words, and on to sexual battery, if sexual battery means non-consensual touching of the intimate parts, do you realise it happens ALL the time in India? And the people who do it get away scot-free, no police to catch them, no sexual offenders site to put up their pictures on, for the world to see, to shame them?

I know for a fact that most women have had their breasts and butts rubbed, squeezed, pinched, poked at, innumerable times - while walking on the streets, in a crowded bus, or market area. They're everywhere. In all the places I've lived in or known well, the city with the most sexual offenders roaming the streets - Chandigarh, followed by Delhi, followed by Guwahati. Hyderabad is better than most cities I've lived in, but it does have its own ugly offenders.

I'd like to batter and fry them all. Starting with all the sexual offenders, followed by big word users. Then maybe we can go after the politicians next. Keeping in mind to do Mizoram politicians first.

-

Life, Coincidences, & Dancing

Let's start with coincidences. Aren't good coincidences just sweet! I was interviewing a candidate some weeks back, and like I always do, I showed her my ID card so she could take a better look at my name, because I know people often have a hard time catching it when I just go and say 'Hey, I'm Jerusha.'

She said she was familiar with the name because one of her closest friends also has the same name. "But she's from Mizoram" she added. I was a little surprised, and told her that I'm from Mizoram too. "She's a Hmar" she said (pronouncing it correctly too!), and proceeded to explain to me what 'Hmar' means!!! I thought that was my job! :-)

I, in extremely unprofessional, un-interviewer-like behavior, squeaked in astonished glee! Same name, same town, same clan! How's that for coincidence! Well, I suppose I can be forgiven for my momentary lapse of professionalism. After all, how many times does one get to meet someone who knows someone that has the same weird, uncommon, ancient name as you do, from the same little small state as you, belonging to the same clan as you - especially in this big, overcrowded state so far away from home!

I started on the second coincidence I meant to write about, but it looked really stupid written down so I decided to scrap it, guess I'll have to just save that instead for the next dinner conversation.

Anyway, the main purpose of this post is to promote our new videos :P - Video 1 and Video 2 (below). It's a lot of goofy pictures and clips, and I know my mom would be scandalised if she saw :-) First of all, she thinks dancing is for bad girls. But I love dancing, and I really don't see anything wrong with it.

We all work hard during the week, and me and my roomies hardly get to see or talk to each other during the week because of the crazy shifts they do. But on normal, good weekends, we start dancing from the moment we get up to midnight and beyond, with slight changes in the venues where we dance, though the ladies washroom is one of our ultimate favorites any day! And the guys never understand why we take so long in the restroom.. :D

Karaoke nights and making a fool of yourself comes with little rewards sometimes - like these cute alphabet fridge magnets. I won them the other night for one of those Who-does-the-best-job-of-making-a-fool-of-themselves games which I was convinced into playing because the White Mischief people made it sound like I'd win a date with VJ Nikhil..

Incident Of the Famous Man

"There are grammatical errors even in his silence." - Stanislaw J. Lec

I was in a club with my friends when somebody who I had never seen before in my life walked in. But the rest of the crowd in the club must've seen him before, because heads turned, mouths gaped, jaws dropped in awe, the waiters held their trays in mid-air and whispered among themselves. He took a table and sat, and visibly reveled in the gaping.

The waiters who usually fawn over us ignored us. And we had to wait an extra 10 minutes for everything we ordered, so I finally dragged one waiter to one dark corner, held a knife to his throat and menacingly whispered "Tell me who that rat is that is holding up my drinks? Speak now or forever hold your peace!" I gave him a sinister grin to drive the message home.

Well, I exaggerated. I didn't use a knife, it was a table fork. 'Famous Man's name' - He told me. I had never heard the name before in my life, inasmuchas I had never laid eyes on his wretched form before in my life.

"Who???"

He whispered the guy's name in awed reverence again. I waited for a bell. No ringing whatsoever. So I dug the fork in deeper and demanded him to tell me what or who or when or how exactly he was (something) :D

"He is 'X', world-famous cricketer!" he said. His lips slightly quivered in divine adoration. He looked back at me and I could see his thoughts blinking - "How could you not know, you stupid moron!!?" (I am withholding 'his' name as I am planning to write more things about him - not all very nice. But Cricket fans, nobles, and countrymen, not to worry. He is not from the Indian Cricket team).

Anyway, the thing about me and Cricket is that we have never met each other at all. I don't like it, I don't understand it. If you make me watch a match by myself, I will never know who won or who lost. I think it's a lame game with lame players with unsexy (lame) uniforms (No offense, that's just in my unworthy opinion, and I am no lover of sports in general). And I care nothing for cricket players, no matter how famous they may be. And nothing about the game or the players can penetrate my thick head enough to impress me.

However, one of my friends turned out to be a fan, so he sprang up, and happily skipped and hopped away and abandoned us to join Famous Man at his table, who surprisingly welcomed him with open arms and they were soon immersed in conversation. We also forgot about Famous Man, and went back to our girl talk.

It was when I was talking about the injustice of only important people getting bribed and not us who needs the money more that I suddenly felt a hand on my arm yanking me back and next thing I knew, I was standing at Famous Man's table, face to face, gushing friend introducing me to Famous Man and friend.

'Gentlemen, this is blogger. Blogger, this is Famous Man, have you heard of him before?" I wanted to strangle him right there and then, and to make matters worse, before I could even lie and just say yes, he asked "You watch Cricket? Cricket yada yada..so you know right? You watch Cricket right? right right right?"

I thought about lying, but I didn't want them to start quizzing me about Howzzat and One-days (?) I decided to just be true. So I told them no, I don't really watch cricket. But hello, nice to meet you - shook their hands. They were as stiff and awkward as little boys. Benign, blank, staring eyes, and could hardly get 'Hello' out of their mouths.

Famous Man joined us on the dance floor. He danced like he was blind, didn't make any acknowledgment that there were human beings around him. Not in a rude way. Just in a stupidly hopeless way. He acted like he doesn't hear, and out of the blue, when something in the conversation caught his fancy I suppose, he'd suddenly throw his head back and bray in a laughter, making you jump out of your skin - brays echoing round the room long after he'd stopped braying..laughing I mean.

Anyway, I rejoined the girls the moment I could. Everything was fine - until a little later in the night, and Famous Man probably had had too much to drink, he started puckering up his lips and cupped his hands around his mouth, and blew us kisses (puckered us kisses more like)! Like the way sleazy drunks on the roads do.

At that moment, I was very glad that I was not a Cricket fan, or that I was not a fan of Famous Man. Otherwise, the disappointment would have been too much to handle. I can't imagine Fabio Cannavaro or Michael Ballack to ever do something like that. That's why I like Soccer.

Anyway, this story, like every other should have a moral. So moral of the story is this: Go home and read Alice in Wonderland and forget about the world. We live in Wonderland, if we'd only just remind ourselves. Mean-assed rabbits and mad hatters and grinning Cheshire cats everywhere. But in the end, Wonderland is what we make it to be. And you can get rid of all those crazies with a breath. The trick is in knowing when to close your eyes.

And oh..watch soccer! Safer bet :-)

.

Tagged

I've been tagged by Mac, and this is something I want to take up, but I've thought and thought and can't think of much so I'm going to fly through this, it won't be a work of art :P, funny or witty but at least it will be honest. Anyway, what better chance to stroke the old ego and talk about my all-time favorite subject with a reason than this tag! It's all about me!! :-)

10 things I wish I could say to people right now:

1. I tell myself I don't care what you think, but I still make an effort to make you like me.
2. Don't think you know me "that" well.
3. I feel so dumb sometimes I suffer in silence in the company of all you good, intelligent, fancy-"degree-d", multiple-"degree-d" people.
4. There are about only 5 people I can think of right now whose company I genuinely enjoy.
5. Leave me alone...sometimes.
6. The one thing that scares me most right now is that you'll stop loving me. That something I do or say will drive you away.
7. I enjoy you so much I wish we were in prison together sharing a cell :)
8. I would like you better if you would just stop throwing in those big, fancy words in your sentences.
9. I find it hilarious that just because you don't drink, or because you've never had sex, or because you don't smoke, you think that automatically makes you a better person than the people who does all or either one of those.
10. Stop staring!

9 things about myself:

1. I still cry for my dog I lost when I was in high school.
2. To borrow Nora Ephron's quote - In my sex fantasy, no one ever loves me for my mind. Unfortunately, in real life.....
3. I hate people who sleep too much.
4. A maid accidentally poured boiling water on my left foot when I was not even a year old. I still bear scars, when I was a kid, a nanny told me they were my lucky scars and I have stupidly grown up to really believe that.
4. Poetry, the smell of the earth when it rains, watching someone I love sleeping, the sound of rain on a tin roof, and goodbyes make me cry.
5. Death fascinates me. Almost as much as it terrifies me.
6. There are very few things in life I take seriously.
7. I will not bore most people, unless I do it intentionally.
8. I love white wine, and I hate rap and R&B.
9. "Well it’s time to go home, And I ain't even done with the night."

8 ways to win my heart:

(This one's difficult, I'm not sure myself, but let's see..)

1. Give me flowers. They still work.
2. Match my energy. Don't be sleepy, don't be too tired to go out, do something, sit and talk, whatever. I'm hardly ever too tired to do anything :D (At the same time, it kills me when I know you're tired and sleepy but you make an effort to talk and say things to make me happy).
3. Be on my side when I've had a fight with my mom, a friend, or a colleague. Even if I was wrong.
4. Whisper to me in an exotic language. Preferably, Italian or Persian :D
5. I am in love with The Ninja and buffalax. Make me laugh the way they do.
6. Sketch a picture of me and make me look beautiful :P
7. Let me see you broken, let me save you. There's something so intense about being the one lending the shoulder.
8. Talk with me.

Not in that particular order.

7 things that crosses my mind a lot:

1. God, my faith, heaven, and hell.
2. Joe.
3. Work.
4. Going away. I still have to figure out where 'away' is.
5. My nephew.
6. My mom.
7. My health.

In that order.

6 things I wish I never did:

1. I wish I'd never started that fight with my mom.
2. I wish I hadn't ignored my brother's texts the way I did.
3. I wish I had never used Yahoo messenger!
4.
5.
6.

Can't think of anything. I have more things I wish I'd done than hadn't done!

5 turn offs:

1. Dirty teeth, dirty nails, body odor.
2. Cheap jokes.
3. Over-eagerness. Ignore me a little, that'll make me want to pursue you. (Ceases to apply after an exchange of telephone numbers or email addresses :P)
4. Men who like to talk about their money.
5. Women that don't know how to wear/walk in stilettos.

4 turn ons:

1. Compassion.
2. Good smell. Have you ever been in a lift where you can't see who it is behind you but you can smell him, and he smells so good you want to take him home even without seeing his face? A little ridiculous, but my emotions are ruled by smells.
3. A guy with a musical instrument, preferably the guitar, but anything else will do. Hot. Plain and simple.
4. And of course, a great sense of humor. Clichéd, but can't leave that out.

3 things I want to do before I die:

1. See the Northern lights.
2. Spend an entire winter in Alaska, in a log cabin in the woods, and then watch spring come.
3. Base jump.

2 smileys that describe me:

1. :P
2. :D

1 confession:

Losing my dog hurt more than losing my uncle (I know, I'm horrid!)

.

A day in the life of a non-famous person

I'm so out of ideas and the creative genious that usually bubbles over in my head :D Every idea and every enthusiasm and every shred of motivation I have ever possessed has been sucked dry. Dry as a bone. Dry as a bone in a dusty village road in Bihar, for good measure. I'm guessing it's the aliens that did that, I was not sure what they were doing mucking around with my head the last time I was abducted. I will have to bring this up next time I meet them.

So let's see, maybe today I'll pretend I'm famous. And write about stupid, mundane things and pretend people will still be interested in whatever nonsense I come up with. I will write about my typical weekend, I will invent imaginary lovers and illicit affairs, several of them - Dukes and Barons and Prime Ministers and members of the local Panchayat. Or maybe I'll just write about the type of men I find attractive (a man with scissors lodged in his temple and has a bat where the sun don't shine while he's on fire), and what color I paint my toes...

Hmm, what else? What else do celebrities do? Oh, yes, almost forgot - my sessions with my many therapists, how hot my psychiatrist is and my plans of seducing him. And the charities, don't forget the charities. And the trips to war-torn areas, and hold a hammer and cutely perspire (celebrities, I've been told, don't sweat like us common folks) in the sun while you help build schools, homes, or whatever is necessary for raggedy little kids in Kolkata.

I give up. This is, first of all, no fun. Second, I suck at it. Third, there are more than enough celebrities to do all that, I think a pretend-celeb is the last thing the world needs right now.

"True love is giving all you have to someone you know you're going to lose". Ray H Wall

I saw that today and thought it sounded very wise but I couldn't quite fathom its meaning. But I think I have true love. Or have had. Or felt. Or still feel. I'm pretty sure I have something to do with it, so I'm not altogether sucked dry. Bless those deft little alien hands.

I'm glad the weekend is over, it always gives you too much time to think. But this one wasn't bad, we celebrated our new fridge with a bottle of champagne. And we sat with our glasses and talked about our heartaches - an alcoholic parent, an over-controlling parent, the man you love but will never have, an indifferent step-parent....It's not going to take the pain away but I'm glad to be able to sit and talk, and my heart goes out to my friends, and my heart goes out to myself, and I hate it that there's so much pain and heartache and sorrow and general bitterness in this life.

And in the end, I think all everybody needs is to be loved a little better. I think that would just about solve everything.

And we cook, and we give up after everyone cuts themselves. See the extra bulky, very fashionable hanky on one of the hands? That actually required 3 stitches, I got lucky and just ended up with a bandaid. I also got rid (almost successfully) of my new fringes.
Undaunted by mortal wounds and also emboldened by the bubblies, somebody decides somebody wants to dance. So we get dressed and go out. We end up singing 'Sex Bomb' on karaoke. And 'I Will Survive' and I like it because I start believing it when I sing it. And what if the truth is far from it? My world is what I believe it to be. We swiped flowers from the lobby on our way back, which Op very nicely arranged in a wine glass -
Note how the carnations are not on the stalks, the stalks are bereft of flowers or leaves, while the flowers peacefully float directly on the water. Very artistic.

And we go home, and I step in my room to find somebody had left the fan on, which had blown my entire 149 sheets of Latin lessons all over the room. There were prepositions on my bed, verbs and conjunctions under it, it was a very grammatically incorrect mess. I was too tired so I slept with the papers strewn all over.

And yes, Latin. I am teaching myself Latin. I have attempted to learn Spanish and German, signed up for classes, both of which were complete failures. Mostly due to my failure to turn up for lessons. So now I've picked Latin so I can fail more impressively. 'I studied Latin but it was really tough and with work pressure and other social life-related pressure, I had to give it up' I'll say, and won't even be lying. It sounds snazzier than saying I quit my Spanish or German lessons.

And at work, I've always believed my friends to have a higher level of intellect than the average Indian. But sometimes they make me wonder. Passed on a news page about a shooting incident to Shirley, she was quiet for a while as she read, then she said 'four slugs removed? Wow!!!'. Quiet for a bit again. Then rather meekly 'What's a slug Jerusha?' 'A bullet' I said. 'Oh, so that's okay then' she said. I asked her why that was okay, it seemed she'd orginally thought doctors removed live, slimy, crawly slugs from the gun-shot patient's body!

Then on to Sohna - I go excitedly ping her with the news that "Woman loses 180 pounds! 180 pounds!!!" (Note all the exclamation marks) My friend's languid response? "I'm assumin tht's weight? not cash?" It's not like I would use exclamation marks for anything below a thousand pounds. Maybe one for 500 and above, and three exclamation marks would have to involve life-changing amounts.

And that's a day in the life of a non-famous person and her non-famous friends. Well, I think I covered more than a day, but they're all the same anyhow.

.

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 :-)

Garbage post 1

I love garbage posts. It's one of those posts where you can just write absolute bullcrap. You don't have to aim to be right, or correct, or good. I don't have to make sense. And if I don't make sense, the ground isn't going to open up and swallow me.

I don't know what it is about me and misery that I find it so embarrassing to be sad and miserable. Or maybe it's just that someone like me who's shallow enough to be most of the time happy just never learnt how to deal with it. I find it shameful, and pitiful, and weak, and I don't want to admit to it but yes, I'm miserable as hell. I didn't want to write that, but I'm trying to at least be true to the one 'virtue' I can still call mine - truthfulness. I don't want to start pretending or lying now.

And even shopping my ass off and several pairs of new shoes hasn't helped this time. Here, lemme post a pic a friend took of me shopping for shoes. I do wear a lot of heels, and my friend suggested I start wearing those ridiculous block+high heel things if it's height I aim for. Of course, I never bought the shoes, but we had a good laugh trying them on. I call them Red Light shoes :-)
I know I look unfittingly happy in the picture. That's something I've never been able to understand. I pretty much of the time look darned cheerful & gay. Sickening. I think I'm just a big smiley. And that that's how I'm supposed to look. And that's not a beer belly, that's Mizoram belly. Heavy Mizo feasting will give you unsightly middle-aged-Indian-men-belly.

You know how people mope, become pale, lose weight, look haggard and all that when they are hurting, well that never happens to me. Big mystery. I think misery suits me, I certainly do spend more time applying make up (for whatever weird reason?!) and therefore, look better.

Anyway, I guess it's not a bad thing for the year to start badly, cos' then the chances of it going up are upped. Thank God for work, and thank God for friends, and thank God for whatever takes your mind off things that make you unhappy. (You can see I'm trying to be brave and strong, and optimistic - but I wish I was a bird and that I could fly away).

The hills are alive

An age-old tradition :-) - pictures! Every trip home should be followed by picture posts. I've put these and others up on Flickr, but I thought it wouldn't be complete if I don't have them here. And as usual, these should be clicked on and viewed large. These small ones never do it justice. Not to the photography, but to the beauty of the place. Home, sweet home - as usual. Where you can sing 'The hills are alive, with the sound of music' and believe you really hear music :-)

I took this picture after a night of sleepless tossing and turning. Seeing the first light come up from where I was miserably lying was like balm for my tired soul. It was freezing but I stood there for hours just watching the sun come up. You can see the moon in the picture, and a star, I think it's Venus, my little camera couldn't get it but it was still really bright.

After the dawn, this is what you get. Beautiful in a different way, but now a little less serene because people are starting to wake up, and you can hear the mild traffic in the distance, and the neighbors kids bawling, and the neighbors squabbling over who should make the morning tea **sigh** We always spoil everything. Life, and earth, and the world, by themselves are so beautiful...when we humans don't butt in.

And then the sun rides a little higher, and it's still lovely outside...

But I usually no longer get the chance to sit and appreciate it by this time. Everyone's up and prowling around the house, happy breakfasts, little fights, everyone including me's too busy rushing around to be 'happy.'

I wonder why we do this to ourselves? When I sit and think about it, everything's simple, life, living, love, happiness. But nothing's ever really easy or simple in practice.

But then, in the end, it's still beautiful to be alive.
A bee on a mustard flower. This was taken by my 11 year old nephew. So I've either got a really talented nephew or a darned good camera :D

Almost forgot. Friends. What are you supposed to feel when you no longer feel like you connect so well with your life-time close friends, people you've been friends with since kindergarten. Does it make me a bad person if I can no longer feel all the warmth & the closeness? I don't care if they read this, because I don't think it's anybody's fault. I love them, and I still love hanging out with them. But there are so many things we no longer understand about each other...

My brother's music video

This is my brother's music video, made for our local Mizo TV networks. A guitar lover got together with a tabla lover and they found a girl that loved to dance, and they found someone to tape them and this is what came out. Nothing impressive. I kind of like it though. If any of you ever read it, you may remember my 'Bulerias, Cejillas post' from last year. So I think that's why I like it, because I have some contribution to it, even if it's only a small piece of instrument :-)

Saying Thank You

My dad sent me a message today that said 'Thank you'. I had been telling my friend only a few hours before this text from dad that I was a wreck, but that that 'thank you' just completely fixed me. I'm not going to try and elaborate on this, things are kind of messy. But dad's 'thank you' today was the best and most meaningful 'thank you' I have ever received in my lifetime. I know nothing about parenting but if I were to try my hand at giving advices to parents, I'd have only one - to thank their kids more often. At the right time, a simple 'thank you' can solve everything and can be more effective than an hour long lecture.

.

Why I smile so much

During my entire life as a kid, I never even in my wildest dream thought that I would ever get to see any place outside of Mizoram. There were rich kids in school who had been to Silchar, Calcutta, and some even to Bombay and Pune! And kids with 'rich' relatives who'd bring them gifts from Madras, Guwahati, and Kathmandu - fancy pencil boxes, tiffin boxes, pretty pencils, and erasers. I thought them the luckiest people on earth.

I read a lot, books were a way of living a life I never thought I would get to live. Because traveling and owning fancy things was for kids with wealthy parents. So all I ever did in school was look on with envy. And read, and wrote, and dreamt. And slept with National Geographic magazines with their tauntingly beautiful pictures of the world.

I remember the day I first saw the Taj Mahal...how I was thinking back on those school days, and how happy I was for the fact that I'd finally been to some places outside of Mizoram and even get to see something like the Taj Mahal.

When I passed out of college with a Bachelor's degree, my only dream was to get my Masters. Zoology was one of the very few things I was really good at, and it was all I wanted to do. Then my mom said no. With 3 other siblings in college, it simply wasn't possible, there just wasn't money for it. I cried and she told me God will have other things for me to make up for the education we couldn't afford. But I hated her and I hated God, and I cried for months.

I don't know how things turned out this way. I know prayers are answered, but I never asked for all these. It's been a dream, living has been a dream -

I have eaten food that I've only read about and seen in books and on TV....
Drank exquisite wine and champagne that I thought only the rich drank...
I have seen and touched animals that I thought lived only on 'Animal Planet' in my world...
Now I know what kangaroo meat and crocodile meat tastes like :D
I know how it feels to dive into the ocean and jump out of a plane and freefall thousands of feet up in the sky...
I have met people I read about in books and saw on TV....
I have done things I have only secretly dreamt about, and things I didn't even know about to dream about them...
I found out America isn't really sprinkled with gold dust and that people in fact do take off their shoes before climbing into bed :-)
I also found out neither America nor Australia is filled with 'racists who don't treat us third world citizens as human beings' like I've often been told. They're full of kind, wonderful people...
I have lived in a luxury apartment in the tallest residential building in the city, swam in the highest indoor pool in the southern hemisphere...

All these superlatives and me, I joke about it to my old friends and family and it makes us laugh. But when I sit and think about it, the wonder of it all astounds me. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if everything's real - right down to the bed I'm sleeping on. I mean really wonder, not just as a figure of speech. It may not be a lot for many people, but for someone who never had anything, everything I do, eat, buy, every new place that I see, they're all a miracle to me. And more so to my family.

When I saw the Taj Mahal, I thought "Now that I've seen at least one of the seven wonders of the world, I can die in peace now if I were to die!" But now that I know how many possibilities are in this world even for poor kids and poor people, I just don't want to die at all. I want to live and explore this possibility. I want to keep living and see what other wonderful things life has to offer.

Australia has been a dream. And now I'm finally heading back towards the truest dream of all - Mizoram.

...where I rambled as a child
Makes me cry and makes me laugh
My reflections on the past
And the family, friends, and faith that shaped my life
It makes no difference just how far I roam
I still cling to that part that is so dear to my heart
My faith in God and memories of home -
The mountain angels sing
A bittersweet refrain of my Smokey Mountain Home!

Merry Christmas everyone! I wish everyone has the best Christmas this year, better than any that they've ever had, I wish everyone could be happy, and satisfied...

Guess what I went and did today!

The one thing I've always dreamt of doing all my life, I went and skydived! And it was one of the single most exquisite adrenaline rush I've ever had.
And to all of you that used to say I was just talking big when I'd say I would skydive given a chance - HAH! In. Your. Face! I've been given a chance, and I've jumped. I hate to say I told you so but I told you so! And you thought I'd never really have the guts :P Just because you don't have enough courage to jump from a plane 14, 000 ft up in the air doesn't mean I wouldn't. Time for humble pie, suckers! hehe

How many times do I think about sex?

First tag I've ever taken up - this one's from Nags. I'm taking this one up cos' I thought it sounds like fun. But I decided I'd just try to be honest with it, no funny or wittily evasive answers. If I didn't answer, it's only because it's too stupid to be answered.

1. How do you feel after a one night stand?

Shitty. Lovely. Gorgeously naughty. Guilty. Marvelous. Ashamed. Sexy. Dirty. Sinful. Round and round like a kaleidoscope.

2. Do you ever get used to wearing a thong?

No.

3. Does it hurt?

No.

4. Do you know when you are acting crazy?

Sometimes yes. Lots of times no. I do something that seems perfectly normal to me and 10 people would come telling me later that I did something very crazy...***sigh***

5. Does size really matter?

Yes. Works the same way C & D cups 'matter' against A cups.

6. When the bill comes, are you still a feminist?

Yes. I'd be a true feminist by expecting and allowing my date to be a man and pay.

7. Why do you take so long to get ready?

Skin that has to feel soft. Hair that has to be clean. Lipstick that has to go on just right. Body that has to smell good etcetera etcetera. The extra time goes in to all the things that make you love us more.

8. Do you watch porn too?

Hello? We have hormones too!

9. Will something from Tiffany's solve everything?

Not at all.

10. Are guys as big of a mystery to you as you are to us?

Not at all.

11. Why do you sometimes think you look fat?

Because I sometimes look fat?

12. Why are you always late?

I can't answer this one. I am never late.

13. Does it bother you when we scratch?

Hell yeah! Nobody's going to want to 'get close' to your crotch if you keep scratching there.

14. Do you wish you could pee standing up?

In public toilets, yes.

15. Why do so many women cut their hair short as soon as they get married?

Do they do that??

16. How often do you think about sex?

A healthy amount of time is devoted to thinking about sex. Not an obsessive amount of time like a certain *ahem* 'gender' group.

17. What do you think of women who sleep on the first date?

Lucky! The guys must be really hot :-)

18. Would you?

Depends.

19. Do you realize every guy wants a girl just like his mom?

*yawn* Can I pass? I personally think 'every' is an exaggeration. However, even if it was, it would only help us 'strategize' better.

20. Why does every woman think she can change him?

I don't think, don't try. But I know many men who thinks they can, and even worse, who thinks they have to change me....

21. Does it matter what I drive?

To a certain degree - yes.

22. Do you ever fart?

Pass. I'm not even going to ask this time.

But really, I don't think anyone's ever as good, or as bad they appear to be. Even us women :P Especially in India, we are so used to being ashamed of so many things that we should be proud of it's sad. Which has led to a whole swarming mass of pretentious population. But that doesn't change what we are inside. Believe me, every girl, or at least, a majority of women - the normal majority that is, would love to find that guy who's worth losing their reputations for :P

The Sweetest Things

The adorable, loving, but almost-stupid things friends say and do to keep you happy or just to keep you from being hurt:

1. You're out for a walk with your friend, and you've just spotted the guy you really like (who also just asked you out) kissing a girl, and your friend insists it could be his sister, when the guy is Caucasian and the 'sister' he's kissing is Asian.

2. A guy you're interested in suddenly seems to have lost interest in you, and your friend's explanation as to why? "He must be gay". And that's the only explanation there is.

3. You're in different continents, and they're going out to party without you and they send you an apology message - 'We're going out without you, sorry Jer, we love you!'

4. You sporadically keep canceling your travel plans, and they give you a farewell party and nice pressies each time. Three cancellations in three weeks can be pretty painful.

5. They refuse to talk to that 'friend' who didn't call you while you were sick.

6. You're going out with a new guy they don't trust, and they call you every one hour just to check if you're still alive. Not exactly funny when you're already 25+ years of age.

7. They lie for you. Even though they are terrible liars, and it most of the time don't work.

8. In their eyes, there's only one place you can go to when you die. Heaven.

9. They sit with me through a 4 hours long Church service in a language they don't understand a word of and still say it was fun.

10. Your contribution.

My friends have been my stronghold, my tissue boxes, my sleeping pills, my pick-me-ups . I don't know what I would do without them. Be bored stiff. Have no one to go out with, therefore stay home all the time. Grow depressed from all that staying home and self-companionship. Grow morbidly morose. Extreme clinical boredom. Lose all will to live. Start depending on chemical substances to want to continue living or shoot myself. So, technically, I owe them my life :D

I've fallen in love

With myself, the ocean, and Cairns! "I" am the only person I can fall in love with over and over again and never get tired of. Also fell in love with about fifty hot men in the course of my one week trip :-) Yep, plenty of those up there in the jungle. Nothing like these sickening, suit-wearing, expensive cologne-smelling, snotty executive types in the city.

The past week was the best ever I've had in Australia. I snorkeled, scuba-dived, went white water rafting and jungle surfing, jumped into a very deep river with no thought of what was going to happen to me (I can't swim), fed Kangaroos.... I spent a lot of time in the water, and I'm terribly proud of everything I did in the water because I'm an air baby, and for me to jump into the ocean or the raging river, it takes an extreme amount of willpower.

Snorkeling at the Great Barrier Reefs - it was terribly scary so I had to force myself to stop thinking. So I donned my protective suit (jellyfish season) with a non-functioning brain, and jumped with a non-functioning brain.
And it was so easy! And everybody said I snorkeled like a pro :-) I can't say the same for diving though..

However, I ace in the air, always! :-) I was so good at this that when it was over and I had to get out of my harness, the staff were teasing me about how I should take the harness home with me.
Cape Tribulation - We skipped our fancy prepaid lunch and fed on coconuts on the beach instead, used rocks as tools to break them open and I laughed so hard my sides ached. And even though I hardly ate, it was one of the best lunches ever. The beach was completely deserted, and with the rainforest on one side, it felt like we were the only people there - shipwrecked and stranded. I thought of 3 people - Robinson Crusoe and his man Friday and Tom Hanks...
Also went cruising on the Daintree river and who did we run into? Mr Crocodile the monkey-eater!
One of my most favorite spots was this strip near the beach house where we stayed in Cape Tribulation. Hauling my massive survival kit bag - books, pens, pencils, ipod, camera, sunscreen, change of clothing and I'd sit there writing, sketching, taking pictures, whatever I wanted to, and it was just impossible to want to be anywhere else on earth.
I never stepped into the water, as inviting as it was, because of fear of stingers and stray crocs. Got all the sun that I missed in Sydney. So much so that this one guy at a club we went to refused to believe that the the girl in the picture on my passport was me and almost denied me entry. But in the end, he finally agreed that I've just been spending a lot of time in the sun.
Also, I was a little paranoid by the time I got there because on my entire way there, all that our driver talked about was how dangerous the area is, full of creatures on land and sea whose bite/sting is always "potentially fatal" :(

But despite all this, I loved Cape Trib! If I were to pick a place to live in next to home, I think this would be it. I know it's a little hot, a little humid, a little "rustic" but I think I can live there and be good and happy and satisfied.
It looks a lot like Mizoram, maybe that's why I fell in love with it so easily.

I have a secret plan that if it works out will be the coolest thing ever - and will be as helpful and enlightening as Edison's light bulb. How to make traveling here for any length of time as easy and affordable as buying a bottle of beer :D - for anyone!

I hope I'll figure it out in about a year or two. Well, I have it already figured out, but I need enough time off work, around 3 months to a year, to test my idea and see if it works. So start saving, the only expensive part will be the air fare from India to Australia :P