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This is not a suicide note.  
06:37pm 10/09/2013

So today is…

Suicide Prevention Day

I find this somewhat


Why should a person

In pain not be allowed

the time, the place, the manner

of their passing?

Why is euthanasia a grey area

But suicide a folly and a sin?

Do they think that Death is to us

is as to them,

a grim terrifying spectre,

that swoops down to gobble

helpless victims whole?

That we were irrational

in our choices?

That we don’t realize the

one-in-a-million cocktail of

selfishness and selflessness

cowardice and bravery

lethargy and initiative

defeat and determination

it takes to leave a life behind?

How condescending.

But then,

we pained many with this

perceived abandonment.

I suppose they have

a Right to be angry.

and sad.

But I wish I could make

Them understand. This was not

the cruelest outcome,

an accidental thought or a way of

getting back at the world

that caused that final shifting

of weight from one foot

to the other.

This was pain.

Years and years of being

locked inside

a windowless room,

being flayed alive and tortured by

a red-eyed, sneering monster

who wore our own face.

This was a thousand

hours of plotting, planning,

fantasizing for an escape hatch,

when we could no longer

stand to be mired in the cesspit

of our own body

but an oblivious world met

our whimpering with

puzzlement and platitudes

and worse – pain of their own.

It’s the days of letting guilt

and love for family and friends

shackle us to the rusted frame

of a wrought-iron bed;

Securing our own chains

tight around bleeding wrists

Even as the cat o’ nine tails

lashed viciously across

a red-raw canvas of open scars.

We did bear this torment

for as long as we could because

we felt we deserved it because

you needed us to live, because

we kept seeing the peripheral

passing of rescue lights and

it drove us half-mad.

Death was not a specter;

it was a crack in the ceiling

where the light –

well, it didn’t shine in; there

are no surfaces to reflect it

in the Room of Nothing, but-

lightened the sky just enough

to tell inside from out.

Death looks like a Faerie

dressed in wind; she has cool

hands. The smile in her eyes

is the only promise

that could exist

in the hollowness that was left

When feelings all lay


their guts hanging out

in warning.

We didn’t know if we could trust

her,  but then even the fire

is welcoming change

against the soul-sucking

monotony of

the frying pan.

I wish instead, this

could be a day

For the voices of the dead.

Not the cautionary tales

of the living.

It’s like we’re speaking

in different tongues

and our every meek syllable sounds

Like a bagpipe blast in a church.

Blasphemy! Sedition!

Taboo! Selfish! Crazy!

And they wonder why

we chose the way out.

I don’t know if those who passed

Beyond, ever found peace

or hellfire, or regret.

But each one of us, who fell

through that Looking-Glass,

understood the stakes,

loved you no less

blamed you probably none.

I think if God exists, He would be

loving and merciful

and understand that we did not

choose to die to spit in his eye

but rather became too weary

to keep kicking

to keep breathing

to keep our heads above

a bitter, horizonless sea.

Try not to hate us,

because our endurance

fell short of what

the world demanded.

Try and be happy for us

that we suffer no more.

And for our sake, do not

let guilt lead you to that same,

airless Room of Nothing

and lock the door behind you.

The monster may never

let you out.

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(no subject)  
12:31am 09/10/2011
Inspired by Janet Devlin:

Baby Girl

Baby girl, your heart full of dreams
Your voice lifted up in song
Hope lights your eyes
Like young morning skies
The world hasn’t beaten it down yet.

Baby girl, don’t be in a hurry to grow
The world will steal the dreams
From your eyes
Beat your slender spirit with hammer blows
And try to make you into a hard-eyed
Vixen with blood-red lips
That sneers at baby girls like you.

Baby girl, when you sing;
Your song reminds me
Of my own, not long before
When I too chased the wind
And counted the stars
Held the world in my palm
Like a pearl for the taking
I remember that sweet unknowing
Of hard lessons yet to come
Baby girl, enjoy it whilst you still can
You'll never be a baby of sixteen again.
Feelin' nostalgicnostalgic
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Bad Television and the Good Women Who Love Them.  
12:25pm 17/08/2011
Dear Hart Hanson,
Say "Moonlighting Curse" one more time. SAY IT. I dare you. Because next time you do, I'm going to take up a collection to put out a hit on you.
On behalf of fed up fans everywhere,

Dear Bones,
After much reflection, I have decided we need to get a divorce. I treasure those early years when we were very happy together, but you are no longer the Show I loved. When I met you, you were kickass and considerate and sweet and serious and halfway believable.
You've changed so much Show. Now you alternate between being a goofy asshole and a whiny bitch. This past season has been the last straw. It wasn't even about you getting a girlfriend on the side, although that certainly hurt. It made me realize that I don't even like you much any more.
And really, getting yourself knocked up just to make it difficult for me to leave is just way low. We have way too many unresolved issues between us and I fear bringing a baby into the mix will only exacerbate them. Our relationship is just too toxic now; especially since you never even meet me halfway. For everyone's sake, I'm saying good-bye. Please tell Hanson and Nathan that they ruined you and I wish they'd burn in hell.
Wishing you the best,

I am weary of TV Shows. They always let me down in the end. Supernatural broke my heart and became a freak show circus, Angel was emotionally abusive, Bones strung me along for years and then got pregnant to stop me leaving, Chuck was good to me but now it's leaving too, Leverage is fun to be with but can never seem to commit. I now have too many trust issues to really make it work with How I Met Your Mother. I'm consoling myself with the occasional hook-up with The Mentalist; at least neither of us is looking for anything serious and it's always a satisfying roll in the hay.
Feelin' bitchybitchy
Listenin' to I'm Not Dead by Pink
Tags bones, fandom, tv
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We're a nation of motherfuckin' Chuck Norrises, apparently.  
06:05pm 11/08/2011

This is utterly hilarious and, now that I think about it, quite true:

Six Reasons Why Sri Lanka Is More Badass Than You Could Ever Hope To Be

Only she left out the part where you can’t wear shoes or hats when you’re visiting ruins in Anuradhapura, Polllonnaruwa and (Oh God) Katharagama, because it’s disrespectful to wear shoes on holy ground. So you have to trek miles barefoot and bare-headed over the red hot sand in the blistering heat. In truth, our cultural preference to go barefoot over rock, gravel, sand and mud is the only trait I’ve really considered badass about my country. But I’m glad she found so many others!
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To the baby bird left in the nest  
12:27pm 09/08/2011

Rat-a-tat, rat-a-tat

Pounding on the table

With a bent coat hanger

My best scarf twisted

Around the hook -

Your favourite toy.


Woo-woo, woo-woo!

Your rosy mouth a round O

Jumping up and down

Flapping your arms

Like a little bird trying to fly

With wings that will

Never grow.

You don’t know it

But everybody’s leaving

Passing you by,

And so am I

Flying away while you stay

Always in the nest

Looking out into a world

Where for you

There will never be a place.


What do you see,

When you look outside?

What do you feel

When you smile at me?

Do you ever feel lonely and sad

When everyone else

Talks around you

Over you, about you?

How do you feel

When they look at you

With pity in their smile

Condescension in their eyes

“Oh, what a beautiful little boy

What a shame he can’t talk

Was he born like that?”


I want them all to die

To suffer like I do, like you do

With your little face pressed to

The glass of a world

Where you’ll never belong

I’ll take the hate I feel for it

Turn it into love, give it all to you

So you will always be loved

More than anyone else

Could ever be.


You’re not little anymore

Not really; your head

Was at my hip yesterday

Today it’s at my eye,

Tomorrow your chin will kiss my temple

You and I will both grow old and grey

But your world will never be

Any bigger than it was yesterday

And mine will be all the greyer.


I love you more than the air

Than the sun, than music

I loved you the minute I saw you

I’d go blind forever

If it meant your world

Could be less dark

I’d give up my voice

For a single conversation with you

You are the most beautiful sadness,

The saddest pain, the most painful joy

I never expected to find

So young in life.

And yet I don’t know you

At all; your personality

Is a mystery to me

Would you have liked

Transformers or teddy bears?

Cricket or hockey or story books?

What kind of girl

Would you have chased?

Would you have dreamt of

Flying a plane or being a ninja?


I’ll never know anymore of you

Than your woo-woo

And rat-a-tat

Flailing your arms

Like flightless wings

You’ll never fly, little bird

No, Akki’s not sad,

I won’t cry

Your smile is so bright even

Through my blurry eyes

You lay your forehead

Against mine

As if to say, you’re here,

I’ll be all right.



Feelin' melancholymelancholy
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Everything happens eventually.  
05:17pm 01/08/2011

I GOT VISA! Booked the flight (well, almost)!


(Actually, it's more blank terror and can't-leave-my-Boy tears right now, but I'll get to the Woo Hoo in a bit.)
Feelin' ecstaticecstatic
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02:33pm 01/07/2011

G'day, peeps! It is I, the one who appears, disappears and reappears at random. Today, I have arrived with the expressed purpose of imparting some news.

engagement ring

Yes, you are correct. I am engaged. To a wonderful man who is my perfect counterpart, my constant, my best friend, my conscience and always, always my solace and happiness.

Yes, I know, I had a plan. Finish degree first, then high-powered job, world traveler, sophisticated woman of the world, and finally marriage at maybe 32. And I still want to do all of that (except the marriage bit, obviously). But somehow, the most important part to me now is to come home every day to the man I love. Because when you find that, whether you're having a good week or one steeped in anxiety and depression, seeing him is the part you look forward to most, you realize it's time to rearrange your priorities a bit. :)

Yes, I am still going to uni. No, we're not getting married right away. It's going to take a while for me to get settled there (assuming I get the visa) and for him to apply for a work permit (fingers crossed) and for him to find a job, etc. etc. So we estimate some time late next year or early 2013.

Somehow, all the pain and upheaval of the last few years suddenly seem kinda worth it, just to get to this point.
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Decisions, decisions.  
12:58am 03/06/2011
And the winner is: Wilfrid Laurier University. I think.

Mostly because York U still hasn't got back to me and I need to start my visa process. And because Laurier's acceptance deadline is today. And it was imperative that I choose a uni in or within proximity to Toronto, for reasons that shall be explained later. And because Wilfrid Laurier seems, like Goldilocks said, not too big, not too small but just the right size. And within an hour's drive of Toronto.

Besides, if I decide I don't like it, I can always transfer to York next year.

But...on the other hand, if I choose York I can live with my uncle, thereby cutting down on a lot of room and board expenses. And their tuition rates are also slightly less expensive. If they get back to me over the next two weeks, I can still change my OUAC acceptance. *bites nails* Goddamn you, York, why won't you DECIDE yet??

Wow, I have a lot to do! Enroll in classes, find off-campus housing, buying books and clothes, filling out a student visa application, gathering all the supporting documents and what-not, not to mention my extremely dubious chances of convincing a visa officer that I really am planning to come back to SL after my degree and not just disappear (visa officers HATE Third World people audacious enough to ask them for temporary visa. The only way my liberal-arts majoring ass could be worse off in their eyes is if I were Muslim into the bargain.)

Also, I haven't studied full-time in over 2 years now. And I am on a depressive downcycle again.

I'm...a little terrified, actually.
Feelin' anxiousanxious
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My Brain Doth Broke.  
12:40pm 29/05/2011
So the choices essentially boils down to Wilfrid Laurier University and York University.  I AM STILL CONFLICTED. Do we want Barney to get together with Nora or Robin?

Or maybe Barney's going to get engaged to Nora and realize he's actually in love with Robin on the day of his wedding. That COULD work. Although I can't see Robin ever wanting to get married at all. Maybe, if I decide Wilfrid Laurier isn't what I want I can just transfer to York. But will York still want me?

It is not FAIR of the producers to give Barney and Robin a five-season build-up and then just throw a super-cute, perfect-for-Barney girl into the mix just when it looks like Barney and Robin will be OTP! I've been wanting to go to York U for years! But now WLU looks so good! I FEEL YOUR PAIN, BARNEY!


Also, nearly ALL you guys wanted me to choose University of Prince Edward Island just because Anne Shirley would have lived there a hundred years ago if she had had an existence outside of L.M. Montgomery's imagination. Worst. Advisory Committee. Ever. But also awesome, because it is clear that all of you understand the importance of Anne of Green Gables. And in the grand scheme of things, this is what matters.
Feelin' crazycrazy
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ADVICE YOU GUYS! I need lots of it!  
10:31am 28/05/2011

University application situation:

York University: No decision yet.
Simon Fraser University: Accepted.
Wilfrid Laurier University: Accepted.
University of Ottawa: cancelled due to documents not arriving on time. (Boo!)
Carleton University: No decision yet.
University of Prince Edward Island: Accepted.

WHICH ONE DO I CHOOSE?! I've been kind of fixated on York U, but that is such a HUGE campus and I'm a bit iffy about how much interaction I'll have with the profs and the rest of the city. SFU is more reasonably-sized and consistently scores the highest in McLean rankings, with the highest rated arts programs, but polls and reviews have shown that students have a low overall satisfaction rate with it, because it is apparently dank, dreary, wet, not very social and COLD (although I'm a bit puzzled as to whether they're talking about the campus in Barnaby, Surrey or Vancouver. Brrr, Vancouver). Wilfrid Laurier, being mid-sized, in Ontario (at least the same state as my uncle) and consistently dogging SFU's heels in the McLean's rankings seems to be the best bet, but I don't really know jack about what Waterloo's like. It's likely Carleton will also accept me, and while I think Ottawa is the prettiest place in the world, I actually stayed at the university during CANJAC and it didn't really call to me (also, the food sucked. Yeah, my entirely rational methods of elimination, let me show you themz).

I kinda want to go with University of PEI at this point (ANNE SHIRLEY!) because it is small, pretty, most affordable, ranked highly among small univerisities and ANNE SHIRLEY. But throwing over the other, bigger, better-reputed campuses because of my fixation on a hundred-year-old fictional character who didn't really exist doesn't seem to be the most responsible choice.

But still....ANNE SHIRLEY, Y'ALL!

FLIST, I need advice! I'm looking at you, Canadians. And anyone else with a more rational brain than mine.
Feelin' anxiousanxious
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Kid =/= Fool  
05:40pm 25/04/2011

The boyfriend's grandfather passed away recently. He was about 93 years old, so he'd lived a long and fulfilled enough life that the funeral wasn't as mournful as most. The family was a little concerned how Boy's brother's little son would take this, though; the little boy had been a box of concerned questions when his great-grandfather had been in hospital and they weren't sure how to make one comprehend the concept of death at tender age of three and a half.

His grandmother decided to simplify it for him a bit. Confronted with the body laid out in the coffin, she explained to him gently:

"Muttha is being very still. He is not going to wake up now. They are going to close the box and take him away."

The kid looked at her gravely. "I think he's dead, Grandma.".
Feelin' amusedamused
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(no subject)  
10:39pm 24/04/2011

I always think I know my kid sister pretty damn well, but sometimes she completely startles me with her insights. Like this one that she posted on Facebook:

"We may think that we are seeking love, but more often than not, we are just trying to end the war within ourselves. And love can only give us a ceasefire - it can never bring us peace."

Feelin' impressedimpressed
Tags life, quotes, rl
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What I Learned During My Beach Vacation  
04:36pm 18/04/2011

Copy-pasta from Facebook:

Setting: Hotel Pool, frequented by vacationing Caucasian people and their kids.
Time: Midday, last day of holiday.

Sis: *is backstroking in the deep end of hotel pool* *suddenly goes down*

Me: I'll save you, Chuti! *swims away to the thrashing madwoman*

My Rational Brain: Not to put a damper on the heroism parade, but how exactly?

My Emotional Brain: I'll... think of something. Maybe I can just give her a leg up? *sis grabs appendage and yanks down* Oh, Glugblugglug.

Rational Brain:...Not going so well, is it?

Survival Instinct: Shut up, yoinks! We have an air crisis on our hands! *shoves sis down and surges upward*

Emotional Brain: OMG, YOU JUST DROWNED YOUR SISTER WTF IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?! *promptly goes down as sis reciprocates the action* Glugblugug

Rational Brain: You know, the first thing they teach you at lifeguard school is to shove the death-panicked madwoman away and save yourself.

Emotional Brain: I can't do that! I'll die of survivor's guilt!

Survival Instinct: Srsly?! What part of emergency oxygen dillemma did you not get, Ms. Priority Fail?

Emotional Brain: *has extensive imaginary montage about the mental state of tsunami survivors who saved themselves and let their families drown*

Survival Instinct: U TOO STOOPID TO LIVE!

Rational Brain: *sigh* It appears I must do all the work around here. You are in a public pool, moron, with people feet away from you. Just stick your hand out and wave in a manner befitting a person about to drown in their own idiocy. Now keep bobbing up and down until someone gets to you.

*very cute foreign dude pulls us up*

Survival Instinct: Yay for air!

Emotional Brain: Yay, they saved Sissy! Ooh, hot foreign dude!

Rational Brain: You're welcome, retards. Now where's your hair scrunchy?

Emotional Brain: Sis looks weird. D'you think she's traumatized? Did anyone else notice I nearly drowned her?

Rational Brain: That was a GOOD scrunchy, young lady! Kindly find it at once! Perhaps scrunchies float?

Survival Instinct: *snooze*

a) Near-death experiences make you feel very important.
b) When next you see somebody drown, look for a life preserver before leaping.
c) My brain is REALLY weird.
Feelin' amusedamused
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List-mania: Day Eight  
08:54pm 13/04/2011
I've missed a couple of days, but it's New Year (Avurudu) season in my neck of the woods, so all bets are off.

Short summary: The Sinhala Tamil New Year falls on the 13th, 14th and 15th, where according astrology, the sun moves from the House of Pisces to the House of Aries. It is a predominantly Buddhist and Hindu celebration, although all Sri Lankans get in on the action. Basically, you clean the house, stock up on sweet-meats for when people come a-visiting, visit your far-flung relatives, give and receive gifts of food and clothing and take advantage of the week-long national standstill by organizing family trips to all sorts of remote vacation spots. It is also shopping season, since people are receiving their New Year bonuses, so just picture the mad rush on December 24th. Holiday shoppers are a consistent kind of batshit crazy across cultures.

My family has been invited to various lunches in our respective maternal and paternal ancestral homesteads, after which we plan to make good our escape to a nifty-looking beach resort for two days. I love beaches but the thought of being stuck inside a car with my family for four hours makes me want to blow my brains out. This is not helped by parental bitchfits that forbid us from plugging in our mp3 players and ignoring everyone for the majority of the drive. Oh well.

To come back to the "point attissue" as Wooster's policeman would say, I have today persuaded myself to tackle my sadly lapsed household chores. The piles of laundry has been launguishing for weeks and the bathrooms were in an extremely questionable state of hygiene. However, today I have spring-cleaned without fear and fervour (should that be with fervour?) and distinguished myself in the eyes of the household. Nobody cleans a bathroom like me, possibly because nobody else is crazy enough to get down on their hands and knees and scrub the grout with a toothbrush for an hour. Which brings me tonight's proclamation:

9) I am extremely thorough in everything I do.

Perfectionism has its downsides, but I'm actually rather proud of my own. This is why my professors who ask for a ten-page thesis finds themselves with 35 page dissertations on their hands. This is also why trying to match a pair of odd socks will lead to a three-day clothes sorting binge at the end of which I will have sorted, colour-coded and arranged every single linen closet and wardrobe in the house including three boxes of discarded clothes, which I will have packed away, labelled and tagged, for giving away. This is why it takes me one and half hours to clear up dinner every night - taken to extremes, my habit of meticulousness once resulted in a three hour pantry cupboard clean-out that ran well into midnight. Imma cleaning ninja machine! Just turn on and point at mess.

My therapist tells me that this is actually a rather problematic approach to daily living which probably accounts for most of my anxiety issues. But on the other hand, I am handicapped by being too good at what I do. Doesn't that sound kinda badass?

I could be Batman!  :D

This is also why each item on this list takes an entire LJ entry to adequately explain.
Feelin' amusedamused
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(no subject)  
12:44am 10/04/2011
Dear Livejournal,

WTF to you keep doing this?! Why won't you post/ load/ fucking work properly? It's been like this for days, now.

Srsly. Get your shit together or I'm dumping your ass.

No love,
Girl Who's Been Trying to Post a Comment for 10 Minutes.
Feelin' aggravatedaggravated
Tags lj
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List-mania: Day Six  
10:33pm 09/04/2011
I'm having a really hard time thinking of anything good about my life right now. Been a rough couple of days.

So, again, here's something frivolous.

6) I can be very attractive.

I'm using "can be" as a conscious choice. Many people have told me that I am attractive and sometimes I believe them, but today is not one of those times. However, as I have found out for myself, a facial, some make-up, a flattering dress and hairstyle can make me look more presentable than most, so I'm not particularly bothered.

Natural beauty is overrated, whether I really have it or not. If I really want to turn the heads of people I don't even know, I can make an effort to do it. And nowadays I want to impress people so very rarely. But the people I interact with regularly see my face in its every aspect - the good, the bad, the ugly, which I can't deliberately control. Beauty really is a matter of perspective and tangible good looks don't matter much beyond that first flash of attraction. After that, it's how you make them feel that shapes what you look like to them. (Unless you are one of those freakishly good-looking people who should be on TV. And even then there will be a minority who thinks you look fugly.)

People's perception is coloured by so much emotion - envy, affection, gratitude, anger and even their own personal histories you've had nothing to do with. I have a very attractive friend who my ex was at first rather unfairly repulsed by simply because she looked rather like his bitch of a stepmother. You can't control a visceral reaction like that. But she's become a good friend to him now of her own right, so he now agrees with me that she is quite lovely.

Likewise, as far I am concerned, for the most part I deserve the way people see me. Their gauging of my looks are coloured by whether I've actually made an effort for them, whether I've hurt or angered them in the past or whether I've earned their admiration and affection.

Unless you're an incredibly shallow person or one of those guys that think with their dicks. In which case, you are way too pathetic for me to notice you.

Reading this over, I realize I have one more thing about which to be proud of myself.

7) Despite of fashion magazines, photoshopped celebrities and my own depression fueled self-image battering ram, at my core I do retain a vestige of common sense about my own looks.* Yay for sense-retention!

*In the interests of full disclosure, it must be noted that the same poster has a horror of being overweight, blows a ton of money monthly on a high-end salon to get herself waxed, cleansed and polished and that once, when her boyfriend thoughtlessly pointed out that she kinda had a moustache (as a consequence of missing one of said monthly salon appointments),  threw a bitchfit that would only be appeased by human sacrifice or a banana milkshake (he went with the milkshake plus grovelling). But the point still stands. It wobbles a bit, but stands.

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Alternative Definitions  
05:36pm 05/04/2011

I got this in an email and had to share. Some I've heard before, but others are new.

CIGARETTE:  A pinch of tobacco rolled in paper with fire at one end and a fool at the other.

LECTURE: An art of transmitting information from the notes of the lecturer to the notes of students without passing through the minds of either.

CONFERENCE: The confusion of one man multiplied by the number present.

CONFERENCE ROOM: A place where everybody talks, nobody listens and everybody disagrees later on.

ECSTASY: A feeling when you feel you are going to feel a feeling you have never felt before.

CLASSIC: A book which people praise, but never read.

SMILE: A curve that can set a lot of things straight!

OFFICE: A place where you can relax after your strenuous home life.

YAWN: The only time when some married men ever get to open their mouth.

ETC: A sign to make others believe that you know more than you actually do.

COMMITTEE: Individuals who can do nothing individually and sit to decide that nothing can be done together.

EXPERIENCE: The name men give to their mistakes.

ATOM BOMB: An invention to bring an end to all inventions.

A fool who torments himself during life, to be spoken of when dead.

A person who tells you to go to hell in such a way that you actually look forward to the trip.

OPPORTUNIST: A person who starts taking bath if he accidentally falls into a river.

MISER: A person who lives poor so that he can die rich.

FATHER: A banker provided by nature.

BOSS: Someone who is early when you are late and late when you are early.

DOCTOR: A person who kills your ills with pills and kills you with his bills.

Feelin' apatheticapathetic
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Good game, boys!  
09:27am 03/04/2011

I cried some bitter tears last night, but in the light of day, I have found a calm acceptance.

India Wins ICC World Cup 2011

Congratulations, India. You deserve this win. Just remember we made you sweat till the very last second. *evil grin*

After all, we may have been waiting to re-live our past glory as champions since 1996, but you guys have been waiting since 1983. Compared to that, we can wait a few more years. Our line-up is young and fresh and not going anywhere, after all.

I'm just very sad that Muralitharan couldn't go out on a blaze of glory. The last holdover from the '96 guard and maybe the most legendary bowler in cricket history. He played so bravely and he's leaving some mighty big shoes to fill.

Sachin being carried on everyone's shoulders makes me smile, though. Only 37 and a batting legend for the ages, he's already carried his team for 21 years. I think EVERYBODY was disappointed when he was sent off so quickly. And possibly his last World Cup too.

I'm far from being any kind of cricket fan but it's hard not to get invested when the World Cup rolls around. It's a matter of patriotism, it is. And no matter how much I bitch and gripe about this country, when I see the painted crowds gathered in the streets, dropping everything to watch the match in any big-screen TV they can find, and every single TV up and down the street have the match on with the volume cranked up, and I realize that more than 2 and a half billion people from all over the world and all walks of life are doing the same thing, watching our boys make us proud, I realize how much I actually do love my country.

This is the most popular sporting event in the world besides the FIFA, and we made it to the finals. TWICE. Eat that, bitches.

Also, the chance to take out sixty years of political grievances in the form of off-colour jeering is...oddly refreshing. One cannot be civilized all the time, and this way is as therapeutic and less bloodthirsty than going to war. Well, mostly.

Love it or hate it, cricket is the adrenaline of the country. This article captures it perfectly.

Anyway, we are proud of you, boys. Well-played! As the Gypsies say, "labana sare api demuko bate"! ;-)

But I still say that fucker Rajnikanth had something to do with it. Ball went funny ever since he got into the stadium.

Feelin' calmcalm
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If you can't make a grand comeback, just come back...  
01:04am 03/04/2011
Hey, gang. Do not adjust your livejournal. Your eyes do not deceive you; it is indeed me, posting again. To my own journal, no less. Lo! The prodigal livejournalist hath returned to the fold.

The thing is, after having graciously granted y'all prime house seats for all my depression-related bitching and moaning, I got sick of inflicting myself on the world and went into hiding. It's one thing to feel like a giant failure who can't haul her ass toward any of her long-term goals and dreams, it's a whole other thing to show it to people who matter. And that's you, flist.

So I've been hiding my head in the sand and beating myself up about the state of my life, world cricket and the universe in general, until my friend Miz Pizazz pointed out some salient facts about the situation. To whit, I'm depressed because I keep whaling on myself and shutting down every good thought that may occur to me about myself, so what do I think more of the same will achieve, exactly?

Her suggestion was that I return to livejournaling and to make a list of any and all positive attributes about myself, one item at a time, each day for the next month. So that's what I'm going to do. And this time around, I'm going to dial back on the emo a bit.

There are some otherwise very sage and intelligent people who have staunchly kept insisting to me all this while that I'm awesome. I feel that evidence is to the contrary, but I feel that I owe it to them to see whether they could possibly be right. 'Cause that many awesome folks can't all be entirely delusional, yes?

Here's to one more try, flist. I've missed you! *big hug*
Feelin' hopefulhopeful
Tags rl
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Buddhism and our Cultural Identity  
01:34am 30/12/2010
This post was inspired by someone who asked what exactly my religion was. It's long-winded, biased and tongue-in-cheek. You have been warned.

The Sri Lankan Singhalese are mostly Theravada Buddhist. This is said to be the oldest form of Buddhism, in which the doctrine of the Buddha as carefully preserved says; "There is no God. Life sucks ass, and you're only exit is if you stop wanting stuff literally into non-existence. This is called Nirvana. I've laid down some dubious and oblique ground rules on how to get there but I'm gonna permanently shuffle off this plane of existence now, so don't bother praying to me. If you have any questions, ask the Sangha, but some of the Dharma might get lost in translation/become obsolete over the next 5000 years until another Buddha comes your way, so you'd best puzzle it out for yourself. Remember, you're on your own, amigo. Peace out."

This makes for a kick-ass philosophy, but a shitty religion. Thus it was that the PR people of India's King Asoka were faced with the task of popularizing a borderline nihilistic doctrine that sniffs at idol worship, prayer and Creationism amongst simple-minded people who'd rather worship their dead ancestors and trees.

Rampant ageism and more irreverent humor under the cutCollapse )
Feelin' amusedamused
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September 2013  

This is the cyber-home of one Hasini. Female. Twenty-three and aging. Sri Lankan. Doesn't know whether there is a God and couldn't give a damn either way. Socialist liberal.

Is obsessed with DC comics and all things Robin. Also has Batman fixation limited to Nolanverse. Loves Pterry. Uses this LJ mainly to surf for pr0nfic and post emo poetry. Likes cheesy romantic comedies, urban fantasy and superheroes.

Hates conservatives and the blogosphere. Is prone to colorful swearing. Friend at own risk.

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