Thursday, December 28, 2006

Better Work Trends, Creativity and Dangrous Borderlines - Part I

I just read about this Argentine theatrical group called De La Guarda that boasts of suspended acrobats plucking audience members off the ground and into the air. The show doesn't have seats, has you stading for the approx. 70 minute performance where the show literally falls from the sky. You're even forewarned that you just might get kissed, danced with, undressed, and even taken up into the sky for a ride.

How's that for spontaniety? No. Wrong question.

How's that for unexpected, creative juice that redefines entertainment?

What would you do, if you were one of the lucky people to get snatched and whooped into the air? Chances are there would be quite a few 'bears with sore heads' who'd be insulted, miffed, violated, pissed off for the sheer interactivity, the disregard for the boundaries we've created within ourselves.

It's a kind of separation from our inner core, our need to deny ourselves the few true feelings we all have. We're so wrapped up in everything we see around us. IT's so limiting!

Speaking of which, i had this conversation with a friend (in spurts and bouts) over the telephone. Now he tells me that he has a deadline and needs to deliver some top secret creative copy for the client. So, i be a good friend and i hang up and tell him, "okay, finish the work, meet the deadline and i'll call ya back, half hour, ciao."

And true to my word, i DO call back. And isn't finished. And of course i must ask why. Isn't the creativity working, isn't it spontaneously combusting, what gives? And he says something came up in the middle and i had to finish that before i could work on this. De La Guarda analogy does have its use, okay? So, like i said this show just might get you wet (metaphysically, i don't's personal, y'see)- you might have bucket of water dunked on ya, you might be rudely grabbed and flung into the air, but the trick is to decide right away whether you're going to be flung, hung and then wrung dry and shake your head in amazement at the end of the show.

Unfortunately for us we all don't work in a world like De La Guarda, but it is the spirit it embodies that makes it such a canktankerous addiction, the need for speed, craziness, shock and thrill. So, the deadline...

IT's about meeting it. It's about being able to pound those keys with incessent gobbledegook, until a design begins to appear from behind the screen. We are limited nevertheless in our interactions, personal boundaries and other such wonderful installations.

As i sit here, wondering (for my poor friend) how best one could meet the deadline without having to agonise over why i'm on the phone too much lately, or why my colleagues seem to notice a lot more of me because of my clear sense of reason, hought and fun - i suddenly duck down from the sky and wham! it hits me, it's about letting go.

Unclench your butt, relax, stop chewing on your lower lip, look up and lift up your hands, you just might get snatched (away from prying eyes, redundancy, lack of fresh air, corporate bull-shit, timelines of the mind, boundaries of the self, boundaries of the office, boundaries of key messages and brand guidelines) into a technicolour whirlpool of mad drums, music, screams and passion.

And you just might meet the deadline. And shake hands with it.

Wednesday, December 27, 2006

The Case of Rootless Blues

Dear Everyone,

I had a reasonably productive day at work today. I managed to write out a few documents for a couple of clients, update some records, clear my desk of ye-old year stuff and junk desk-garbage. It was a satisfying day, really. However, i feel so...blech!

Which means that all that good stuff doesn't count or begin to balance out the horrible sense of waste i feel. Sigh...

Dusk has fallen and a visit from a good friend helped the few moments along. However I still feel BLECH! I downed 3 doppios with two packs of brown sugar, and i still have the ZING as it were coursing through my bloodsteam! It hasn't helped, except scare my friend with my hysterical take on the day and giggles for things i didn't really need to giggle about. Sigh...I wouldn't be surprised if he thought a little extra hard about my reaction today...

A lot could do with the fact that i walked in feeling post-Xmas blues...I had a quiet one this year by the way. How was yours? I hope it was/is swell. :). Another could be that i sprouted this tiny but noticeable zit somewhere around the vicinity of my chin and everyone had something 'cheeky' to say about it.

Y'know the usual - you're not getting enough, it's time you found someone and used the energy 'constructively'....that sort of thing (i'm rolling my eyes now! The stunted imagination around the sexiness of everything life has to offer...Sheesh!) But what has to be said is that I've got a clear case of the rootless blues.

Speaking of blues, i had the good fortune and honour to meet friends from Chennai and in a wonderful surprise re-union or sorts learned that good Ronnie and Melvin are together (when i met them they were seeing each other - they still are technically, only they're in it for the long haul ;))

Well, Melvin's cut an album with his band Hunger - an out and out blues infested piece of wonderful work, that i'll be writing about on the blog soon. Melvin, send me that artwork ASAP!

Well, i could ramble on about the smaller details of how horrible my day was, but in reality i have nicer things to look forward to...

Like the hour and half drive home; the good dance music radio station, the impending New Year break, the Xmas lights that i switch on in the evening, the warm shower and hundreds of books i treated myself to over the hols...:)



Tuesday, December 12, 2006

To those with faith, to those with insight and to everyone with love

Before I post this, i'd like to apologise for my last post. I was out of sorts and well i just need a bone to pick on and wham! i got one. So Spew, if you ever pass by again, here's the thing - i meant the last few paragraphs of it, the other, well i dont' have an explanation. Honestly, there's a lot more to the man / woman spiel and i'll say it first, i don't know everything...but i'm enjoying the learning experience, yeah?

Anyway...what i got below is a e-mail i sent to a few people after an overload of 'forward this or you go to hell e-mails'...thought i migth share it.


I just got a slew of e-mails telling me how I don’t have time for the Lord. Well, and so it passes that we use myriad forwards about the Lord and think we've done our part of spreading a message, which I believe is just a way of satisfying our inner voices that we've done something, even if it meant sticking the letters J E S U S in the subject line and hitting send. The thickness of it continues to amaze me. How many of us have chosen the addresses we write to and actually managed to just type out something more personal that we have felt or experienced, including the trauma of being faithful and the bliss that comes for remaining the same - faithful.

I guess no one, including me have had the guts and then we say we aren't ashamed. We all are. Let's not deceive ourselves and think otherwise. Don't use a forward and please don't preach, it's easy to preach. It's harder to relate, personalise and practice. So the next time, you receive a forward using God as an engine to soothe our nagging consciences, do yourself a favour and write something that will help the other person open their eyes and not fall into the meaningless cycle of consequence ridden religious e-mails that may have the right heart behind it, but in no ways helps the person who opens it when they stuck for actual insight.

Do I believe anyone of you will forward this to anyone? I’m quite sure you won’t. It’s personal, and it’s a testimony of sorts. No earth shattering threats, no graphics, no tough consequences of death, no change in luck, no accidents. But it does have some of my time spent, some of my pride and faith and most importantly a promise to share God in a more effective way.

Let me take the first step:

I’ve been in Dubai for over a year now, and the irony is that I’ve learnt so much more than I would have if I were anywhere else. Before anyone decides that this desert has made the difference, I will only say that it was only that it happened to be this city. Circumstances choose the venue and the time; you’re there when you need to be. Some of the darkest of times have been waged and experienced in my mind and head here. I fought God, I fought my family, I fought everyone, including myself. And when I still couldn’t see what I was doing to myself, God decided to step in and stop the nonsense.

My pain was at its highest before I landed by job here; I had left a city and life I knew so well behind, I was in and out of interviews, made subject to racist remarks and also ‘barter deals’ for my salary. But with each experience, I said no and grew a little stronger inside. Part of it was because I was so sure I would go back to Bangalore and another was because my pride wouldn’t let me. Simple. When I had reached the end of my tether and began to fray at the ends, God decided to step in. There was no blinding lights, no flashes of lightening, no thunder. It was night, I was trying to fall asleep, but I couldn’t.

I tried hard to, but all I could think of was how life was suddenly so unfair, closed and desperate. I had never felt that way in my life. I began to sob angrily, completely cheesed off with the cards I had been dealt (and blind to the good ones I’ve had throughout my life), and I moaned into the dark of the room, “What the hell do you want from me?! What did I do, WHY?!!” I never got an answer that night.

A week later we were invited to dinner to a friend’s house, hours past and after what seemed an eternity dessert was served. As I helped the process along and cleared the table for the ice cream bowls, my eye caught on a sentence peeking up at me from under the newspaper on a book. It said, “The Purpose Driven Life: What God Wants from you”. You know the rest…I read the book, and the first sentence will always stick in my mind (just like the last one from Gone with the Wind – “Tomorrow is another day”) – “It’s not about you.”

I read that book cover to cover alone and with my family (we were able restart our family prayers and we haven’t stopped since - Dad and mom you better not have stopped!). The point I’d like to make is that sometimes God doesn’t use theatrics to get a point across to us. And I can assure you he doesn’t guilt us into it either. The last thing he needs is a guilt ridden believer. I don’t believe that God will send me to hell for being forthright, experiencing life, reading a book that challenges my thought processes, deleting a religious/spiritual forward, or not taking 36 copies of a novena and placing it somewhere or listening to another’s idea of faith and goodness. It only helps me believe in Him more. I guess that’s faith for me. I’m sure each of us have something wonderful to say about our own lives and faith that would hit anyone between the eye like ton of bricks and make a larger impact on their lives.

Y’see God took his time to reveal the larger purpose and plans he has for my life, he continues to take his time and I now know the timing is perfect, because I was in a position to be completely receptive and understand what was being revealed to me. Any time sooner or later, it would have bombed…badly. Timing is everything and let’s face it no one has timing like Him.

Before you think this a right royal tirade against forwards….let me assure you, it’s not just that J, it’s also about how we can make sharing the Word a more effective exercise that a futile one. Send someone a joke, they’ll be willing to take the time and even share it with the office. Send them a forward on how Jesus changes lives…quote a few verses from the Bible and boom you’re in limbo! If you scare easy, you forward it, if you don’t you delete it.

I took the time, I’m not ashamed and I hope that this in some way helps more of us to share.

I love you all.

Monday, December 11, 2006

So Spew Spewed...and How!


So there's this guy...Spew. He's been B Schooled, writes well, engagingly so and enthralls with some wonderful anecdotes on life, lust, love, money, gender, a-day-in the-life-of and other such things that make all our posts that much more compelling.

So it isn't any surprise that i just HAD to pick up one of his posts and link it to this one here and well just take some time to add to it. Now, before you think i'm going to be nasty, i am only providing the other sides to the 'infinigon' that is the subject.

Shall i begin with a question?

Question: Isn't it just spiffy that ALL men have us women figured out?

It is isn't it? Because not ALL men have women figured out. I will grant the very few (who ultimately know it isn't something you crow about, thump chest and announce and so forth) The few who 'lay it out there' are the ones who've dipped their feet into the pool of unknown and come out triumphantly shaking and so 'cocksure' about that 'one' thing - Women are not easy, but i think i figured it out!

They come hard wired with a) b) c) d) and here are the sure shot ways to 'work' your way around it and a) get some b) get your laundry done c) feel warm and fuzzy d) get some more e) get them to shut up f) basically getting more out the buck and g) you can thank me and add to this later and h)...

You honestly think its that simple? And you want to know why guys nurse their beers after 7 years of being married and wonder what they hell they were doing with their lives, what that bootilicious squeeze they managed to bed in 1992 was doing and if she was still available, and what they needed to do to make sure that conference call at work could be rescheduled late...realllll late, for others they relocate to far off distant lands in search of money, peace, solitude - the neo-huntsman for their personal space.

For some guys, we're a statistic. Let's be honest. We're that 'unforgettable date/lay', 'person you want to take home (she's uncomplicated man - yeah, right!), 'easy', 'it just happened, it was time to settle down', 'my parents love her, that's all in know person' and it goes on.

The rule is there are no rules, Spew.

The rule is not to cloud your mind with - how do i deconstruct something that is unbelivably addictive, required and the clear case of the opposites and conquer her.

That's what the porno is about - minus the work your mind bit. Think about it. Women in 'easy cum easy go' story lines, with absolutly no reasons to debate the situation, place, peson or reason. She's pretty, she's buxom, she's got a hot ass. Wow! She doesn't say no, she's always ready for some more and she's a positively mind blowing cook.

You have the hot next door mom, the tight - peel my clothes of delivery girl, the leathered dominatrix, the naaive school girl (is it?!) the oh-my-goodness-gracious-heaven-help-me damsel in distress, the submissive....aww...for the love of...**&^$%$^&&&!

If that isn't an indication of how depraved the mind is when it comes to debunking myth, theory and plain common sense, i don't know what is. Bad enough so many of us have to 'adopt' these make believe stupid crappy personas to get men all hot and bothered.

I say this with absolute respect and deepest sympathies for the few men who actually don't think this way and have continued to face the wrath/force fields of quite a few women who are so bombarded with this stereotype that well...what can i say?...give the ones who have a fair chance a hard time. Hence the good fight...


What are the other million things you ask, Spew? Well for one there's the want of not being typecast as a gender. No...No...i don't mean equality, i don't mean feminism, i don't mean any of that...that's all on a different level of thought and understanding.

Girl walks into room, Guy looks. He either likes what he sees or he doesn't. Fair enough. The same goes for us. Let's face it, we're all attracted to some form of male or female.

Past stage one. You move in...she's nice to talk to, she's reasonably you're type, you like more of what you see, you like what she wears, hey! you like her attitude, you gotta love the ass/bustline/face/eyes/lips (whatnot), and then it're moving her around in your mental 3D, sniffing at the
nuances of her, wondering what would it take to break into that egg shell. How do i do this with out shattering anything??? Hmmm....

Problemo Uno. We're homosapien. So the sniff, growl, arch and attack, present with game, sport plummage - won't work. DAMN! Oh, and we're not in Pleasantville. I mean bully for you, yeah?

There is no right way. There is you and her/him (whichever way you swing) and what you make out of it. It can either be something special, something that would actually help you put to use some of the intellect we all save up for our time alone with our thoughts. Like your blog for instance.

I don't believe - Heil the Henpeck or Cuddle the Cobra will work. You got lucky, cause for that particular 'her' that's the master key to getting her way. So she did your laundry, she's stupid, maybe... OR she finally got her principle and interest later without you so much as realsing there was ever an agenda - oh hell yeah!

For another woman, you'll meet - it could Bamboozle the Balls or Ass whip the Ass Wipe. Millions more from where that came from, for every woman or man there is an MO. And each one coes with a kick ass title.

Think about it.

Men are about the layers. That's what we are about too. Layers. The more you peel the more stronger it gets. Which is why the few who last out there with a simple understanding that what they're dealing with is another human being with the same wants and thought processes only better endowed and aesthetically made (i might as well slip that in, yeah? Cheapshot or not) makes it more simple and enjoyable.

Be who you are and enjoy your time with like-minded pepople. If it goes soemwhere, well, yeah, enjoy it. It's not getting some. If it is, i feel sorry for you. If that is your one mandate when it comes to women, then i'm sorry you'll get those kind of women, who really don't want to take the time (just like you) and actually make it a mind blowing experience.

Y'see, the one time you must have had that is when you were the least scheming. It would have either ripped you up, it would have been the best time of your life, it would have been one of the most amazing coversation you had...that's the one you'll never forget, that's the one you'll always want. Because for the first time you actually stopped thinking and started being.

The old news is that men and women come from different planets. The fact is we don't. The old news is that men think in black and white and women in shades of grey (who came up with that crap anyway?!). The fact is we pretty much can do both.

P.S - Devoid of any of other darker complications, preferences, psychosis and mental illness - this would be for the men and women who actually have normal disposition towards relationships, gender, love, sex, happiness and most importantly life.

We are all open to opine. Such is the current state of affairs in our world. Women now have an equal if not condecendingly allows right to voice their opinion and actually bristle when they read something that puts them into a bloody mould. When women say men are easy to figure out - men like that. Well, i'd like to tell those women men aren't easy either. You never really know what they want sometimes. Most often that not you do - that's a different matter. Maybe we are wired a little more comlicated, maybe we do give birth to children, we sustain the race (blah), but let's not forget in our self induced worlds of importance, we miss out on what we can get from each other.


I'm tired now and this would be easier over wine and music and of course in person. This is just a piece of the feeling. A sliver of the depth. A sliver of a sliver. I now end to rest.

What's the use...? No really... It doesn't matter anyway, the battle of sexes differ from all identifiable demographics. It is a constantly evolving environement and what i say today is already commonplace.

But it had to be said. So i said it. It's 6:00 p.m. 7:30 p.m. where I come from.

Over and out.

Thursday, December 07, 2006

Throb of Thought

It hurts.

I feel a horrible sense of pain. I have to admit the reasons pretty stupid, and if a certain someone were to know what this reason was - he or she would probably laugh indulgently, jab his or her finger at the screen as he or she read my ache and say, "serves you right".

This certain someone tends to feel vindictive even though he or she perfectly wonderful otherwise. Its a clear case of validating one's sense of lack, I can empathise with that. I respect an individual's way of proving they're right (even in a scenario that there is no right or wrong, just the way it is).

Now let's not get ahead of ourselves, by no means do I agree with the reaction. The perspective (mine) was and is clear. Logic and sense seldom prevail in human emotion. Private human emotion.

Right now, I feel this dull pulse of panic at the pit of my stomach. Like I'm extremely distraught. I feel it and yet I stand outside of myself rationalising it, trying to make it go away and doesn't.

The cacophony of telephone conversation, gossip and wasteful exercises of (again) validating our pay cheques continues in the background.

I blame myself and no one else for finding and passionately espousing such environments only to be let down a few moments in time later. I understand this flaw and yet it is embedded in me do deeply.

'The Thorn in my Flesh'

I have a promise from above to be made 'strong through my weakness' to be glorified someday through the very same abrasive that scours at the life I know I can have. I have a dark case of it today. It's a combination of fatalistic thought, deeply scarred mental tissue, patience, a penchant for the dark (by default), faith and the ability to laugh at myself.

What shall I call this malady? An irony? No, that's already taken.

Ever since the holiday a very different throb of thought has worked it's way into pockets of my mind where I had successfully managed to lock out all feeling and reason and be able to function like the drones (I'm surrounded by them). But you can't control the throb of thought.

If I were to meet this certain someone anywhere, they probability of him or her walking away, avoiding me or looking the other (worse case scenario: pretending to not know me) is way higher than any other positive experience. However, to put to rest my dull pulse of panic, I'd like to say that I wouldn't apologise, I would say hi with the same affection and pray that he or she did well. Cause truth be told he or she deserves it. Even more.

But I wouldn't apologise not for me, not for the world, not for him or her. There was nothing to apologise for. It was wonderful.

Ah well...such is life. Revisitation of an extremely personal nature among other things should be avoided at all costs.

The pulse of panic has dulled to a blip.


Friday, November 24, 2006

Five minutes before sleep

Sleep. Tired eyes. Silence. Whirr of CPU. Dog barking. Whizzing traffic. Faint honking. Obvious speed.

lots of thoughts. Some incoherent. Someone talking about Simi Garewal on the street (what. Dog howling. It is 1:25 a.m.

stomach full. Over-ate. Not happy about that. Feel the chillies burn my gut. Nice :).

Sigh. Uninstalled unwanted programs. In the middle of defragmentation (of comp drives, excuse you). Killed lone loathsome mosquito. Another one is sure to fly by. More silence.

unsure of where unhappiness stems from. Second mosquito on cue. On time.

gate crunches open at the front of house. Neighbours are back from some place obviously.

More thoughts. Creaky car door sounds. Defragmentation process complete. Gate closes. Sound of neighbours locking gate. Ironically enough the gate is never open. Slip of thought into the open.

jingling keys at door. Their door. Dragging something. Door swings open and shut. Click. Door locks.

more traffic whizzes by. Second mosquito gets small bite. Annoyance sets in. Traffic. Whizzing by. So is time.

log in time. 1:30 p.m.

good night.

Sunday, November 05, 2006


So i'm sitting on the edge of reason, legs dangling over the last strand of sanity that enables me to put in more than 8 hours of work everyday, when i feel a tap on my back and a 5 minute tirade on consistency.

My initial reaction? Cannot be printed.

But my more humane response were non-commital hmmmss and haws...I made no bones about how ridiculous this here stress on consistency sounded to me. For the love of all things good, when we lack the sheer capacity to be consistent with more meaningful things in life, i daresay (indeed!) that a minor formatting error on a sheet of paper only brings to light the complete waste of point, time and breath. and of course also completely throws light on how utterly jobless we all are. Nuf said.

Where i come from, formatting issues are either solved, taken care of or dealt with and not hankered on day after day, month after month or year after friggin year. Life goes on, really. And the formatting (God bless the effort, no really!) makes no meaningful dent and wastes away in cyberspace while it transits to an equally 'give a damn about paperwork' recipient who could well be more worried about whether he/she will wake up to a job tomorrow or not. Sales is a tough job, overrated, but tough. I will admit that taking a completely useless product or service putting a waste of spin on it and then setting off coat in hand to 'hawk' the darned thing is a self inflicted welt for a living, but then is every other man made occupation, isn't it?

The lucky few walk down red carpets, strum guitars, and capture frames of habitat, emotion and colour. Their works are paid for, their lives are celebrated. By the very hands that employ millions of people across the world. You and me, my friend.

Somewhere in my youth or childhood.....I must have f@#%^ed up prettty badly!

Over and out.

For every 100 seconds...

It's officially going to be close a month since i posted here...

A thought occured to me as a spent 15 minutes on the rowing machine, mentally clocking a minute before speeding up the number of reps on the machine....

"It's funny how we need to quantify everything, even when we exercise. We stop at 15 and start a new rep, the closer we get to 15 the quicker we push ourselves to reach the edge of that defined activity. It's like our mind's are attuned to the numbers and the closer we get the more the muscle aches to stop.

I wonder...what if there were a hundred seconds in a minute...would it then push our limits of endurance or make us less impatient? Would it in a sweet way shorten our attention span but pack in more matieral? Would i walk for a 100 minutes? It's only an hour it you think about it..."

Time. What a limitation.

Sunday, September 17, 2006

When thoughts are addressed and put to rest

Seldom do one's fears work it's way through someone's speech, voiced thought or statement and find a place inside of you that is both troubled and confused with the conflict brewing inside. When i read the Homily delivered by Pope Benedict XVI at St Peter's Square during his inaugural Mass on April 24 2005, the last two paragraphs did stir me to want to post this here, so that anyone who passes by and feels the same fear would understand that although the fear doesn't cripple us from leading our daily lives, it cripples us from being what we could and can be. Free.

I do subscribe to this thought, i believe it almost manically that we are all free when we are rid of our fears. And as we strive to get there, it is heartening to know that in this maze of human devises and million to one chance of ever knowing whether the utopic unity we all strive for in thought , belief and practice will be acheived - that we are not alone.

And to quote the Homily, "In this way, I too can say with renewed conviction: I am not alone. I do not have to carry alone what in truth I could never carry alone."

The last two paragraphs from the Homily - by Pope Benedict XVI | The Inaugural Mass, Sunday 24 April 2005

"Are we not perhaps all afraid in some way? If we let Christ enter fully into our lives, if we open ourselves totally to him, are we not afraid that He might take something away from us? Are we not perhaps afraid to give up something significant, something unique, something that makes life so beautiful? Do we not then risk ending up diminished and deprived of our freedom? And once again the Pope said: No! If we let Christ into our lives, we lose nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing of what makes life free, beautiful and great.

No! Only in this friendship are the doors of life opened wide. Only in this friendship is the great potential of human existence truly revealed. Only in this friendship do we experience beauty and liberation. And so, today, with great strength and great conviction, on the basis of long personal experience of life, I say to you, dear young people: Do not be afraid of Christ! He takes nothing away, and he gives you everything. When we give ourselves to him,we receive a hundredfold in return. Yes, open, open wide the doors to Christ and you will find true life. Amen."

Tuesday, August 29, 2006

Knocked out : Say Cheesy!

At the risk of exposing some of the work i'm 'handed' on a dry day...

Spot the Cheese:

Sub head: Flower Week Turned Shopping Mall into a Shopping Scenter

Part of Big Fun in the City pragraph

Our visitors got to make friends with Woody Ruffwood, the incredible talking tree held its audiences spellbound with his delighftful tales and lively music. Families were held rooted (i can imagine why!) by the amazing tree, as he and his friends sang songs for the children gathered around him.


Sunday, August 13, 2006

The thought being unemployed

If I were to quit, I'd join the super duperly underestimated few who finally mustered up the courage to call a spade an opportunity.

I wouldn't get an SMS update confirming my salary credit, I wouldn't have an annual performance review. I wouldn't need to have inane dialogue exchanges with clients who are as determined as much as or probably more than you to ensure they introduce 'coinages of the unheard', corporate spiel that will send you yelping into the corner of the board room.

Being me, I wouldn't need to return the favour.

No more negotiating costs. No repitch, re-evaluate or resubmit.

Bright ideas will never be shot, maimed or disfigured ever again. Life as it were would turn toward the sun.

Office politics would be amusing anecdotes from stress infested dinner guests, friends who need a space to be, and sundry. Creative thought would surface and breathe. Severance would take on a whole new meaning.

To think about unemployment at this juncture in my life, is amusing. I don't have stashes saved up, I do not have a trust fund. And I will admit my self confidence is peppered with a feeling on unease, only because it is a learnt vice - the dependence on money.

To feel the crunch of notes as you smooth them out over a counter at the grocery store, the little piece of you that sails across a credit card slip when you sign away a week's pay over eggs, silk, leather or soap. It's all of that and more.

The thought manifested when I slid in two dirham coins into the parking ticket machine. Two seconds later, it was spat out with a curt reminder to check the fee for three hours, I had slipped by three more.

My journey has reached another enlightening pitstop. The fear that money creates within your being is an indispensable rot that gnaws at your very core. Beyond bones, feeling, and ability. My battle has ensued; and I'm close to winning it. Close, but not there yet.

Monday, August 07, 2006

whaddya i know

I do know i'm setting deadlines. I tried doing this before, and i never could get down to respecting a deadline till it started blinking red. That's when i work best.
On the personal front, plans have never been a success. I think, make lists, go the whole hog and do it all accordingly to 'plan' and then it just caves, like badly made cake.

In the past year, i had the time and venue to do a lot of soul searching, i've woken up bathed in sweat, gasping for air - the severity of thought. Imagine, if you will, some of the largest moments in your life twisted, revealing meaning, coming back in full force under the guise of synapse blasts and you'll be wide awake like me - gulping down cups of water from the bathroom tap.

But it has changed me. For good (both ways).

I have come to a door. For the past few weeks i've been in a dark tunnel, scraping my palms along the walls, breathing deeply in anticipation for some light and a way out. And I know stand feeling the door knob of what i know is another portal, a transit into more.

Monday, July 31, 2006

Choices - the confusing decision

There are so many things i could wish for right now and know in my heart and reality that it wouldn't happen. Unless, i moved my ass to get it.

But the one thing that has continued to be elusive is the search for that one person. as the years slip by ever so evidently, i have come to no conclusions, because fools do that.

I have however come to a fork in the road with an inn by the side, that allows me to sit down and look at the fork awhile and wonder which raod to take. There is no guarentee of who and what i'll experience (pun intended!) and there is absolutely no synopsis of what each trail promises to assure me in terms of benefits or cons (like the home shopping network).

All i can and have to do is choose one road. Exciting to some, exhilirating to others. To me, it's just plain confusing. I don't know what i'm taking any of the roads for; ahead of me i only have a vague idea of where i'd like to end up. Unlike some of the irritants who know everything they want, right down to the colour of their parasol when their 64.

There was a time these people could make me feel so inadequate, that i'd want to curl up and disappear. Although that has changed dramatically to wanting to clock them on their head till they bleed, i still hurt from the surety that they possess.

Am i a wanderer, an aimless single woman? Or am i someone who's just up for what's being thrown at her. I don't know, what do you think? I'm sick and tired for putting myself out there only to be served cold. I hate that when i'm able to emote with such passion, that the people pass me by, that they don't see the light in my eyes, it makes me sad.

The many men who parade their profiles continue to find their way to my inbox and my trash can. The ones i venture out to contact, either turn out to be shallow pricks, the others too good looking and perfect for the likes of me. In no way do i mean that as a diss to myself. The diss, verily, is to no one. We all have our short lists.

Rejection, i have learnt is a bitter pill to swallow, even it is covertly done and you and the person don't know each other (a.k.a online, e-mails, chat sessions), but it stings nevertheless. When i send out one of those, i do think about how their faces will twitch from an expectant stare to a let down whistle. And i do feel bad. Because i could and possibly will be a recipient of one of those badly written polite declines.

Which brings me to the stage where i ask myself, is it worth being on this here, is it so bad that one can't find someone on their own. Does it take me more than just a half baked attempt at this game to find someone truly meaningful?

Is there no supernatural way I could be spirited to the exact spot i'll bump into this person?

What is hard work when one is trying to find a life partner? Speed dating sessions, botched trials, blind dates, hobby classes, walks on the beach, impromptu club hopping, meeting friends of friends (okay that's out!), work (no way!), What does it take...better still what will it take?

I'm okay. I think i can say that now. I have plateaued with my hate for this place. I still don't like it. But like they say, i can choose how i can use my negativity. I have started to push all of that energy into work and i have got some good work done. By my standards, i need to notch up something for the year spent here.

So, i work and then when the clock strikes 6, I pack, leave and drive home. I reach home, watch tv with aj, and then i sit back and start talking with him. Being my brother, he has his way of being an angel and letting me talk and then doing the same, so that we're on the same page. Once we're way past normal sleep hours, we pray, say Amen and go to sleep.

Mundane, yes. Complicated, no.

I have realised i want to study again. I also know i would like to fall in love for keeps, i now know that life sometimes is worse for the better.

But these life lessons, are just that, lessons that graduate you to bigger situations, to larger implications. I think i'm going to post this on my blog. See what the few people who even know about it think.

I'm stumped. Am i making too much of this blank i'm experiencing. Oh, by the way, I have realised that friends and socialising with people is a blessing and i intend to practice with aplomb when i'm back. So, watch out! (I'm kidding! Dont lock your door! No, really!)

I really everyone, i miss Bangalore, i miss those days when things were a lot more simpler, and i miss that i'll never be able go back, I miss that it will never be the same. It will be new and better, but i still miss what it was. Does that make sense? :)

Ah well...

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Life Update - "Hmmm..."

My colleague walked up to me as i reviewed responses from my enthusiastic family's(much love!)reactopm to my tiny spark of interest to the possibility of pursueing details about mystery man, who happens to have floated off the internet (much thanks be due to my Aji-kutta for sending this one on) and on to my screen. "This is desperation," she said.

I didn't reply, i just switched windows and started to type. I didn't think it was anyone's business. Bad enough, i'm trying to deal with this on my own and the last thing i needed was an opinion completely forged on tight ass!

The moment she walked away, i stopped typing, lookied above my screen and chewed on my lip, wondering whether i should or shouldn't. I did. I switched screens again and looked at the guy's profile. How in the world is someone like him still looking?

My aunt's loving response to this over the phone two nights ago - what business did someone like me have asking this question when i was doing the same thing? Safe to say, it's a long story and also a very intense one. I don't regret the journey nor the time spent - will never ever regret it.

To say i was extremely flattered; would be a sore understatement. Bless your soul Vkchma!

And so, i mustered up the piss-pot edgy dare to mumble an interested "Hmmm..." and you know the rest.

A press office is officially in place, logistics have begun tracking; hearty congrtulations are being shared in upper echelons of home and news wires have started to wag their jaws. Such is the excitement.

I mean they barely took some time off from Big Brotha's initiation into the soon-to be-wed group - and now one little "hmmm..." has started them up again. I do laugh indulgingly to see how wickedly happy they all are - like they've had a breakthrough. Nevermind.

And so, the search and the menu intensifies. All this with one little "hmmm..."

Later y'all...later...

Sunday, July 23, 2006

Road Block #1

It was bound to happen sooner or later...

Frustrated tapping at keys and a dwindling form to my topic essay is driving me around the bend. With over 7 topics to choose from, i assigned my self the 'bright spark' task of writing out some sort of brief synopsis of each one to enable me to understand which one would be better suited.

Work has been relatively quiet enough and so the endurance of such frustrating ache has been easier on my mind.

Keep punching...keep punching...

Friday, July 14, 2006

My Journey - so far...

Yello Yello,

Thought i'd post my update and tell you how far i have far i have identified one unversity (so far, the search continues) that could provide for my thirst for research and English studies, they have identical courses to what i was hoping apply for. It's been good responses all round, have written to them, awaiting reply on my submission of topics.

Anne, if you do get here [my brotha will guide you ;; incase i don't send you the link first], tell me what you think of these topics. Everyone else, who passes by lemme know your thoughts. Add on something, build on it feel free!

English studies:

1) Contemporary Fiction, Modernism and Trauma; texts and publishing

2) Pathway in Modern and Contemporary Writing and Culture
3) Pathway in Modern and Contemporary Writing and Religion / Spiritual texts (Interest fuelled)


1) Contemporary fiction publishing & literary prizes
2) Marketing and Management in Publishing (Interest fuelled and career focussed)
3) Publishing and book trade outside the UK (career focussed)

Publishing has been some what of an interest i harboured for awhile, before life took its course. Would love to makeover my career with books at its core.

Question: When researching for possible topics of study, must one only consider the passion or the viability behind them once outside the portals of knowledge? Hmmm...a penny for your thoughts...

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

Today - I begin my journey

"Knowing is not enough; we must apply. Willing is not enough. We
must do."

~Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

I believe the time has come. It is time for me to begin my journey to acheiving my dream. Like i everyone else, i too have a dream to be able to accomplish the goals that i have set for myself.

I write this because i know that someone blogging by will hold me accountable and so will a few who know this blog exists.

My dream is to write. And to do that i want to hone those skills in a centre of learning. And to do that, i need to start scouting for the right universities, and the right environment.

Step One.

Feel free to leave any helpful links, insights or feedback which i can pick up on.

Monday, June 12, 2006

Expound and Expunge

My colleage handed me a few articles over the course of two weeks that expound very heartfelt 'isms'; reflecting deep into the matter that is human kind. The four writers are respected figureheads of their art - earning them the titles of intellectuals - people dedicated to expounding.

As a child i would sit and watch my father read books, utterly inspid to me at the time - devoid of colour or pictures - completely engrossed and thoughtfully pondering on the various thoughts and conclusions of many men and women who immortalised intellectualism in spheres of politics, philosophy, realism, compounded thought, motivation, science, religion and let's not forget the left way of thinking.

Dad wasn't much of leftist, he called himself a humanist - last time i checked there was a sphere by that name as well. Do i know the actual meaning or inner depth that each spehere holds, do i know the lasting implications it will have on my life? Quite honestly the reality of the impact is beyond comprehension.

I picked my way through the spines of these books, amused at first and then slightly piqued by what i saw on the jackets. Being a loner, books were my only companion, sharers of thought and givers of space to form your own. The beauty is that when you read Plato, for example, you may either agree, disagree, soak in or spit out what he has to say and then form your opinion, which could either be a mish mash of what Plato had to say and what you have to say as well and then you present your arugument or present stand to a welcoming audience of like-minded individuals who all have this new found knowledge that is coloured with their own experiences.

Mind you, everyone is dying to debut their thought - some in the hope of a mini movement, others in the hope of finally being able to expound their view and opinion (with a little or lot of help from the Masters).

Masters are those who continue into life setting trends that are either
a) hard acts to follow
b) impossible and therefore attractive
c) utopic in a herd mentality or
d) a flippant temporary occupation for many who lose their way and suddenly find an alternative route (most often than not, they tire of it half way through and only hang on to the brief but very intense courtship for mellow exchanges over drinks or a long walk in the woods).

One of the biggest questions i have never had answered straight is how intellectuals make their living. Some of the successful ones who visited our universities for good expound sessions have a house on the hills and either off-spring in an Ivy Leauge or internships with the World Bank. Ironically the biographies were passed around class when he/she was well on his way to the station or the airport.

I don't mean it as a snide rhetoric, i truly would like to know.
Being a full time, committed intellectual is not an easy task. To quote, read, write, imprint footnotes and state a point of view in a divided, fickle and highly charged politi-religio atmosphere is no mean task. We live in sea of intellectuals today - everyone wants to be 'wise'.

But there are a few who by worthy PR by their followers, contemporaries, invitations and sheer difference stand the test of endurance and continue true to their cause.

My father's books provided me with a starter kit into what i would go on to call a enlightening time in my life. Some of the people i have met, have without flinching told me how irrevocably negative i am in my approach to certain things in life, and how i get them thinking. As long as i'm achieving the latter, i really don't believe the approach is negative - it is frutiful. And therein lies the difference.

Sure, there will be times when i am made to succumb to the pressures of knowledge and my temperament (a lethal combination i assure you). But for the greater good of thought i don't mind.

Why i don't expound in good measure is because i am a hermit in comparison to my well travelled and connected influencers. I don't know whether i will be invited to a famed portal and asked to expound - but i do dream of it. I do aspire.

Arm chair theory spawned many movement, the occupant of the arm chair died, but the thought was already spun and it took flight into people who were deprived, used, abused and finally vindicated. Some of the life changing beliefs that we use as an impetus in our lives were birthed by individuals you wouldn't have recognised and were known by very few. their books grace very shelves, their spines thumbed over time by the same hands and few friends. The knowledge stewed, evolved and then was dipped into and inked into newer and adaptable situations and realities.

Knowledge isn't written in stone it is (re)volutionary. Evolves and revolves, twisting and turning and burning and never dying.

And so what i may know today will be something else tomorrow and so we never 'know' but are always learning.

These four articles my good friend handed me i would like to talk about, and i will in my next visit.

Good day.

Thursday, June 08, 2006

What are the odds?

What are the odds of a mood swing in a day in the life of Megha Abraham?

I'd say a million to one. After flying to Dubai, i've come to a point in my life, where i need to battle my negativity, that has so easily made being a royal sore to myself. I've pretty much spent enough energy to light up a small town for a week, just being anal about the city and its lack of depth.

Apart from it being a fact, i am not choosing how i'm supposed to react to it. See, that's a choice i HAVE. And i'm not exercising it. Call me stupid and i'll concede (just this once...).

As i was driving to work this morning, the radio blared out a song that i've heard a million times before but never really paid attention. Wake Up.

Wake up it's a beautiful morning Tra la...remember?

Well, there is part in the song that tells you that it could be the last time you're looking at the sky and you'd never know it, so wake up and enjoy what you have...yada yada?

Well, it nevers struck a chord before, but it did today. I guess all the stars had aligned for the epiphany, so i went ahead had it. The epiphany.

So i relaxed my brow and looked up at the Dubai skyline on Sh. Zayed road and was a pretty blue. And i do realise that we're all in this here place to learn and make the most of what we have, and so i might as well, get my plans in order and start focussing on how i can be in a better frame when i look at everything and wait my turn.

Yeah...i've gotta go write a press release and finish up an editorial calendar...not really spiffy stuff, but it pays the bills and allows me the dream of saving up for better.

The lonliness reminds me of what i had and let go of, it reminds me that we all have a reason for what we do, and although sometimes it hurts like crazy even now, we just walk on...knowing somewhere there is a reason and time for every purpose...yeah...under heaven.

Do i think little of everyone else? No i don't, in fact i think that those micro manage like the life beneath the duff, is an empire to conquer in itself. A world where details least noticed is the sealing factor to most successes. It is the armour in a large mass of fighting warriors without which no battle can be complete. It is the ranks, the form and the files that set an organised fighting body from a mean course and uncouth mass, where no discipline or carriage can cause a riot within one's own ranks and the enemy mocks at their hardly fought victory.

Such is the importance of detail. For it speaks volumes and yet is never noticed in the larger scheme of things. In hindsight it is recalled in appreciation and wonder. And although credit is not received when one expects it or wants it, it arrives in times you may never know or understand and set in motion wonderous cycles of gratitude that swamp you in pleasant surprise and confusion. And then a deep and very comfortable warmth that settles the uncertainity in your being, telling you how much of a difference that one extra gesture cost you then, but reaps richly now.

Detours take time and pride!

{That's the picture of the loo door!}
What a day - it's been one long detour after the other. This was the first day i was to drop my brother off to his office - the route was simple enough but then you always, well i don't always but then i did today - took all the wrong turns AFTER - i dropped him off. And so i'm driving around with my bladder full, ready to pee. Every wrong turn i take and my bladder sloshes all the more and i'm going cross eyed to try and get a good look at the road signs.

Anyway, i finally reach and take the ill-fated decision to park in my usual spot (out of habit of course!) and i completely forget i'm an hour late - which makes the parking lot full! with me me on this one...

And then i park a mile away, speed walk to the lobby and then decide (smartly!) that i take the fast route to the ground floor loo (big mistake). I run in, push the swinging doors to find three men in front of a full length mirror adjusting crotches, and tucking in shirt respectively. I stumble half way in order to avoid any more embarrasment crying out profuse apologies.

And do a 360 for the door and push past and barely make it to the ladies loo, and go about the much delayed business. Relief...

I'm still late, yeah?

So, i'm quite releived and quite...releived at this point. And while i swing out to the elevators, from the corner of my eyes i see the same three guys waiting for elevators. I'm pondering the whole disaster of sharing the elevator all the way to the third floor with these boys when i see the glint in one of their eyes, and a low...very low whistle.

So, i walk on (absolutely no break in my stride) and i take the stair - i'm late!

And i reach office and i manage to start work, until my thoughts overwhelm me and i had to type.

And so now, before i venture out onto the roads again - this time to pick me brother up and then proceed home, i know now that some things planned to the T, make absolutly no sense and the diversions...well...the diversions...are Nature's way of telling you that you ain't in control babeee!


Post Afternoon

So here i am staring at a section of my desk post Thursday lunch. I decided i had to take a picture of it and share the view. thoughts in general spill down below...

And so we've reached another fork in road, a road we all either dread, wait for or share an equal measure of both anticipation and reluctance to take.

My parents (God bless them both!) have reached that fork in the road where they will ride their mules back to India (they are officially back home as i type), whilst i take the road less travelled, knowing fully well that will make all the difference.

I'm not scared, but then what does one call this feeling at the pit of the stomach? Excitement?

I can hardly call this place a destination of dreams, unless i'm either white, have a passport to any of the ports in the western hemisphere or rightly have a platinum spoon glued to the inside my mouth for good measure.

No my daddio brought us up with the forthright outlook that was branded into each Abraham child by eartwhile P.S or GP as we nexgens knew him.

It was branded, i say it that way, because each sibling took it away and moulded it with their own streak of liberalism, rebeliousness or secret streak that makes each offspring that sprung later so amazingly different and yet bonded, that science, DNA or even logic remains stumped at the outcome.

Yes, and so i will foray into the world of living on my own again. Alebit almost a year too late. I guess being with the folks for a year after a 5 year run at independence only forged the fact further that they're amazing people and i love them dearly. But when it comes to personal space and time management and life in general, i have officially come to the conclusion that it is time, it is done on one's own.

Growing older is a bitch as is.

I'm not sure how things will turn out here really. I have all these maojr plans, and although conquering the world isn't one of them, i do know i would like to earn enough to buy a place of my own. Save enough so that i could make it to a cafe for coffee and write a book in peace without worrying about where my next meal would come from. If i were to do the math for just a piece of this plan, it would safely come upto around 5 years. And so, am i willing to waste it on something i know i'm not really happy doing?

Not sure really...

And so how will this dream be realised? Hmmm...

See these are the questions i hate, the one where the answers are as stable as fluff.


But then nothing is impossible.

And so the arguments or the battle of the positive and negative continue.

For now, one battle is won, i get to live on my own again, and it will be good. I know it will, for the simple reason that i have my space, my thinking zones and well i don't know the freedom to plan my day and my future!

Thursday, March 30, 2006

An ode to Living Room

It's under this extremely stuffy atmosphere that i recall with extreme fondness living room...who helped share a lot of reality and love.

Living Room was a wonderfully appointed space, with the right cushions, food and entertainment.

But Living Room was what it was - because of the people. It was what it was because what those people shared.

The lovely thing about Living Room was that it...travelled, it's spirit rested wherever these people congregated.

Living Room wafted deep into their senses, snapping out tension, and ironing out brows.

But like all good things, Living Room grew tired of the same faces, it wanted to push through and travel with the far winds and plunge into azure pools where it would collect and lie in huge serpent like coils, resting and infusing energy.

Living room, missed it's larger purpose. It missed what it was capable of doing. The spaces that it created for the people were all it knew and it longed for more. To be able to create more spaces, to be able to waft itself into nature to infuse calm and serenity in the atmosphere. It wanted so much more.

And so one day when the people were burgeoning with happiness and good cheer, the living room bolted, jerking each person out their revellery as it escaped. The crevices of the room seemed like large fissures, living room spiralled out of any given space, as it watched the life drain out of the people's faces. Their skin began to bleach like bone and their smiles faded against their will. The looked at each other and their drinks in horror as the colour seeped and sloshed over the edges.

Living room heard their death like cries and as the last of it's infusion poured out of the corner of the room, it turned to take one last look at the people who had made it what it was.

The last image the living room would always remember were the people clutching madly at the last vestiages of colour as it faded...faded...

Like an energy pulse in the distance Living room hung in the dark night sky, until the last pitiful cry was lost to the emptiness.


"I need a name," thought living room. "I can't be living room anymore, I am soemthing more important, and i have a larger purpose."

And so Living Room flew, it continued to think and think, looking this way and that - at the trees, and the asphalt, the rivers and the sea, everything rushed past living room, so much of creation.

It passed crackling neon signs, and rain washed streets, pails of garbage and moaning streets, squaekly buildings and silent alley ways - looking for inspiration. But finding none.

Living room's name was loaded with connotation that only the people knew. Living room didn't understand it. To anyone else living room was the most insipid title an experience could get. Living room hated that.

"If only they'd seen the magic i could create..." it huffed.

Living room floated on, until it sat on the edge of a shore, looking out to sea. It felt lonely, and began to miss the times it spun for the people. A small smile flitted across somewhre in Living Room's being.

It had picked up a a signal.

Living room swung around to find the source of the smile and floated across the shore. The beach was dark, the stars blipped brightly.

And then suddenly Living room stumbled. It rolled and rolled and rolled a few more times, until it stopped in a pulsating ball of energy and sand. And then saw.

Behind the wet dune of sand sat a group of people, Living room had never seen before.

No one was saying anything. They just sat in a circle. Music played in the background, and they seemed to be talking without saying anything. Clouds of smoke and bottles aurrounded these people. In between the silence murmers were shared, and then laughter and then silence again.

Living Room liked them, they were peaceful, they reminded Living Room of home. And so it inched closer. Within the circle, a person (we'll call Raven) sat up...he felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. Like he wasn't alone in his thoughts anymore. Brushing the sand from his elbows, he stood up and stretched, his mind taut with attention.

Living room stopped in it's tracks...

Peering over the top of the dune, it noticed one of the people standing up and looking in its direction. Living Room couldn't believe it, had it made a noise?! "But i'm invisible...i'm an experience! How he can he see me?," it asked itself and bobbed up and down peeking over the dune...waiting for the person to settle down before it moved in a little closer.

Wednesday, January 11, 2006

The Cute Factor

Denis Dutton is a philospher of art at the University of Canterbury in New Zealand. I would like to quote this man on cute.

"Cute cuts through all layers of meaning and says, Let's not worry about complexities, just love me."

He's currently working on a book on darwinan aesthetics. (yendonaa?!)


Now i'm not so sure about being called cute anymore, cause is this what i'm communicating through my visual cues?

A New York Times Report says - "Cute cues are those that indicate extreme youth, vulnerability, harmlessness and need, scientists say, and attending to them closely makes good darwinian sense."

Does it now?!

I mean so where does that leave us cute folk, eh? (i mean humility be side stepped for a minute here!)

If cuteness is distinct from beauty, emphasising rounded over sculpted, soft over refined, clumsy over quick - then i ain't cute no more. I wouldn't like to be called that please! Sniff...

But wait a minute - i chanced upon this little piece of information as well - further down the cute NYT report is says - "Even as they say a cute tooth has rational roots, scientists admit they are just beginning to map it's subtleties and source. New studies suggest that cute (images) stimuate the same pleasure centres of the brain aroused by sex, a good meal or psychoactive drugs," (which means i'm a trip for free?!).

So with these contradicting studies doing the rounds i now settle into a self debate of whether to take compliments of cute seriously. Here we are in a century where everything is pretty much out in the open. Everyone knows everything, give it to you straght, mince nothing. And yet, we still have our pockets where things aren't dished out to you straight. So what exactly is one saying when they say - "you're cute."

Is it the easy way out of saying you're not a bomb, but hey i like ya? Could it be a genuine response of what you're sending out as a visual cue (Do i make you feel like you just had a good meal? awh ma goodness gracious!)

So much to say that now, i understand one thing - the cute factor makes evolutionary sense! It's gotta, cause once you start catering to the balance of providing for it (the cute factor is said to stimulate ends of many unused synapses to provide, respond, care for, and protect!) then the evolution of the species is made whole in it ultimate journey toward the next steps in making progress.

Gawh i carry such a heavy weight on my shoulders - Atlas shrugged, i'm still in the fight, y'all!

So is the report true when it says, "Beauty attracts admiration and demands a pedestal; cuteness attracts affection and demands a lap. Beauty is rate and brutal, despoiled by a pimple. Cuteness is commonplace and generous.

What the...?!


So much for making evolutionary sense.

Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Fish Basket - May Ai Halp yu?

A Press Invitation of such epic proportion is as rare as the Hailey's Comet. Rarer even!

Ladies and Gentleman in my quest for a simple gourmet experience, i found this press letter too tempting not to share, enjoy!

NB: The spelling is all 'okay', yeah?

Fish Basket Restaurent

Dear Mess'rs,

Entering the Fish Basket does not fill you with the confidence that the meal that that you are about to receive is going to be all that special or the place has unique Decoration.

But, we are happy to report looks can be deceptive.

The concept here is the fish market style you go to an ice counter covered with fresh sea 'delicious'. All what you have to do is choose the way you like it served and we will memorize the yammi expression and hang them on our chests as a middle of honour for gaining your satisfaction.

Join a world of compare less taste and service in a surrounding VIP atmosphere. We will be honoured by your visit you will honour us.

Please note that reading this paper payed you an Invitation for two.


Ladies and Gentlemen - The Fish Basket...

Now if this doesn't make you take printouts and rush over there, i don't know what will!

P.S - Anytime you swing by Dubai, go check 'em out - Tel 3367177, PO BOx 26522, Dubai, UAE

Sunday, January 01, 2006

Happy New Year | Strain for the prize

I started out somewhere in this blog with a New Year message,and here i am making antoher one.

Taken from a book called the Daily Bread, December 31st. It was 12:00 a.m. Dad and i sat down to pray, thank God for what He had given us. Interestingly, we were wiser, suddenly open to reality in a different way, a much nicer way.

"In his painting 'An Allegory of Prudence,' 16th century Venetian artist Titian portrayed Prudence with three heads. One head was of a youth facing the future, another was of a mature man eyeing the present, and the third was of a wise old man gazing at the past.

Over their heads Titian wrote a latin phrase that means, 'From the example of the past, the man of he present acts prudently so as no to imperil the future.'

We need that kind of wisdom to overcome the anxiety created by our past failures and fear of repeating them in the future - an anxiety that keeps us from living to the fullest now. Paul was able to 'forget' his past and anticipate his future (Phil 3:13-14).

This doesn't mean his memory was erased; it means that Paul was free of any guilt or pride he may have felt from his past actions, becasue God had forgiven him. This attitude enabled him to live in the present and 'press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus' (v.14). So he had one driving passion - to know Christ better.

As we close the chapter of this year, let's rededicate ourselves to Christ. Jesus will enable us to live fully in he present as we gain wisdom from the past and face the future with courage."

- Dennis De Haan | Daily Bread | RBC Ministries


And so to prudence, i raise my toast. To our ability to stand the test of what is set before us and to make of it a better understanding and better tomorrow.

- that's me by the way.

Happy New Year, all of ya!