True Story

Dear World & Loyal Followers,
Please Note: this blog was previously known as RetardLove in a Pinus.

Friday, August 31, 2012

Hazard to Humanity

I hurt Ordinary Guy again today - on his knee that he injured last week when he got knocked. I hit him on it (in my defence, I was warding him off while I was trying to drive), and it began oozing disgusting stuff again - just when it was beginning to heal. Needless to say, I felt all kinds of horrible and what made me feel even worse, was that HE was trying to comfort ME, because I felt so dejected at having aggravated his wound. Why is he such a coolbean? (Note, this is not a complaint - I'm just in awe).

Also, I spoke to Laven (Bhai) and Tarryn today - after ages! It felt so wonderful to hear their voices. I could just picture the two of them on the other end of the phone. I miss my campus retards - all of them - who, by the way, were the sole inspiration for RetardLove. They promised to try and visit soon. I can't wait...I haven't spent time with them in almost two years. It's amazing though, how you find out which friends are truly in it for the long haul when distance jumps in between, and it doesn't diminish the bond you have at all.

And on another, unrelated, yet totally worthy note: Digital Street, is shaking up waves in the blogging sector. We're now ranked #1 in KZN! Round of applause for Lawrence Loyal Followers! I'm glad he found me and asked me to be part of his team - the kid is really ingenious. If any of you haven't checked out Digital Street as yet, I suggest you do ASAP (like yesterday). I'm proud to be part of the team!

Lastly, I read something today, which I really liked, "A real woman can do it all, a real man will make sure she won't have to," or something to the effect, but you get the drift.

Oh, and since I've graduated from simply injuring myself at every turn, to wounding someone else now, I scheme it would be a good idea if God hit me with a bright, neon label or something, "Warning: walking hazard. Will harm you should you get too close." I think it's only fair for Ordinary Guy - and any other potential victims.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

I'm Colourful

I had a good day world. I spent it with an Ordinary kind of guy. I met some of his learners - who all seem to love him, and listened to the easy banter, idiotic (yet funny) remarks, and the moments when all he had to do was say one word, and all the tom-foolery would stop. They respect him. And that makes me respect him even more.

He really does take care of me. And I'm at a loss with how to react. I'm not used to being taken care of. It feels good. At the same time, I can't help but feel I disappoint him in a way - like, maybe I'm not enough of a girl. Except that's who I am - and pretending to be otherwise, would feel like a lie. I don't know how to be more. 

I'm tired. Though I'm the happy kind of tired. I know that he's exhausted. Oh, he makes me smile World; he makes me laugh; he makes my heart beat a minute a mile.



Tuesday, August 28, 2012

HelloGoodbye

Ordinary Guy isn't healthy for me. They say, too much of a good thing is bad for you - he's too much of a good thing.

I'm not complaining, oh no. Far from it. I'm just...waiting for the penny to drop I guess; the rope to snap; the straw to break the camels back...or the epiphany that means this is all one huge mistake.

I was shooting hoops this morning (trying to burn off some steam) and the thought suddenly occurred to me, that I didn't know what I was doing - what this thing is - who Ordinary Guy is to me. It wasn't that, that disturbed me, oh no, it was the realisation that I really didn't mind this coasting at all...I didn't mind going with the flow, because even though I don't know where the flow is taking me, the flow, feels good. That's what really disturbed me: see, I've never been someone who simply floats along; I like knowing things; I like being certain. Except here I am, perfectly complacent to just be.

It feels good, I guess, to be the one someone tries to take care of. I suppose I'm tired of being the one who has to try and take care of everyone and everything else. And it takes some getting used to, having someone around who asks, "how are you?" and actually, truly wants a real answer - not the spoof other people are content to hear, "I'm fine."

And yes, he can be patronising; he can be a bit of a bully, a result of almost always being right, I guess; he really knows just how to push my buttons, so that I sometimes, honest to goodness, just want to punch him in the nose. But, he's real, and he's honest, and he's the smartest person I know. And I've grown to respect the person he is - because he's the kind that's very rare - he's no Prince Charming, and he isn't the Prince of Persia, he isn't Chuck Bass or Edward Cullen (Thank the good Lord for that)...he's just an extraordinary, Ordinary Guy.

What really scared the bejeebies out of me though, was when he told me about getting knocked. And all I could remember thinking was, "Thank You God," because I was so relieved that it wasn't yet his turn to go about pushing daisies, and he was still around to tell me the tale of how he got knocked...

Monday, August 27, 2012

Lonmin

I've been urged by a lot of people to write about the Lonmin Massacre - many are outraged that the police used such fatal force at the protests.

Yes, agreed, it is quite the scary movie. On the other hand, however, I can understand where the police were coming from...have you seen the video?

How many of you campus goers have either been caught in the middle of, or been witness to, the various 'strikes' on campus? A strike is a formal protest of a refusal to work, nowhere in its definition does it state destruction of property or persons as being inclusive of it. Think about those rampaging students who destroy half of your campus every time they 'strike'. Do you think it's possible to stop and reason with them when they're in that frenzy? Do you think it's possible for them to see past the haze of outrage and indignities in the their eyes that they see as being perpetrated against them? These are just students - students who wreak havoc without fatal weapons.

Now translate that into Lonmin. Imagine standing on the front line, with an angry mob like that, wielding knob-kerri's and cane knives, advancing upon you at a rapid rate.

The police opened fire, but how many of you stopped to wonder, in your outrage for the violation of human rights in the country, what would have happened had they not opened fire? If one mob can get away with attacking (and possibly killing) members of the police force of a country, how many others do you think will then try it in the future? And South Africa has a history of 'strikes' and angry mobs - especially in our most recent history, and present. It, quite frankly, discredits law enforcement - turns them into a redundant body - which, in effect, gives more courage to those who want to disturb the peace...because then, there'll be nobody around to stop them, seeing as nobody around is allowed to use force to subdue them, least of all the people who are paid to do it. Do we really want something of that nature evolving in a society which already seems volatile?

Again, it all boils down to knowledge. People want to scream outrage without fully knowing exactly what is, or has been, going on. You can't base your opinions on assumptions - honestly, that makes you look like an ass later on. You want to shout about awareness? You want to shout about human rights violations? You want to shout about a disintegrating democracy? You're the ones who are making the cookie crumble. Don't go getting your blood pressure high over the wrong issues, or inaccurate accounts - it not only deflects public eye from the real instabilities of the country, but it also creates and fuels propaganda. You live in a free world where, for the most part, information is available at the tap of your fingertips; you live in a world where you're allowed to question...so make sure you ask the right questions; you live in a democracy, where your thoughts do matter - or this Lonmin tragedy wouldn't have gotten as much publicity as it already has. Make it count! 

Sunday, August 26, 2012

Gosh-dammit!

And Nemo has left the building. It's been a good weekend - smouldering heat, wierd-deformed flap jacks and all - much needed sibling-bonding-time, which feels like it flew by faster than you can say, "Professional Grieffers". Last night he cooked for us too - chicken stir-fry, which was all kinds of delicious! And this morning, I walked into the kitchen and found him mixing up a crumpet batter - yes, they were quite yummy and they came in all shapes and sizes: the normal kind; the little-deformed-sperm-guy; the sting ray with no head; the face that just realised we're about to eat it...our Nemo is quite the talent. And yesterday, he made-nice Ordinary Guy with a smile and his usual polite-awkward-charm.

Ordinary Guy who, by the way, got knocked. It seems that some retard (not the good kind) driver backed into him in the parking lot - and he ended up lying under his motorbike. He didn't dislocate or break anything though, and he can walk (with a limp), and jump if he wanted to I guess, and probably run even, if he ignored the burn where the layers of skin had been shaved off (it looked disgusting, oozing blood and semi-viscous stuff) - and so, I guess Ordinary Guy would count that as being perfectly A-ok. I, on the other hand, would have given that driver a piece of my mind...and then some! How on earth do you not see a guy on a motorbike, in a leather jacket and helmet? It's like Darth Vader in real time (in a really kiff leather jacket) - not something you can possibly miss! Well anyway, I think I added to his injuries, so I shouldn't be one to run my mouth (it seems that I'm not only a walking hazard to myself, but I'm one to Ordinary Guy too), which made me feel all kinds of awful - especially since he made me feel some kind of wonderful.

Well anyway, I best be getting back to this soon-to-be-due assignment of mine. I hope Nemo has a safe trip back to the JHB...I waved him off with a heavy heart - though strictly no waterworks. Goodbye Brotherling, till October.

Saturday, August 25, 2012

Chinch-sockets, a 9Gag addiction, free lunch and all the broken things that I made...

Lovely, lovely people of KZN, are you melting yet? I drove into town, with the windows down and the heat rolling through old Atticus like a 180 Degree oven on full blast (it was 43.5 Degrees truth be told). Poor Nemo said that he's never experienced heat the likes of it in his life before (these Gauteng people, I tell you).

Right now, I'm lying in bed, with my air-conditioner on full blast (21 degrees, thank you very much), my curtains closed, and my insides cooling off from their trauma in the sauna outside. I'm probably going to fall asleep any minute (I've been up most of the night), but before I do, I thought I'd fill you guys in on my week - seeing as I haven't had much time to do that at all.

It's been HECTIC! Around here, there's no such thing as simply "Eid Day", it's Eid Week. Our house in the main house, and so we get inundated by guests on a regular basis - but hey, God says that guests bring prosperity into the home, so I'm not really complaining (just saying). And I turned into our temporary house cleaner - in addition, I had to watch my sugar-loving grandfather like a hawk (because he somehow doesn't grasp the concept that syrup soaked sweetmeats are most definitely going to shove your glucose levels through the atmosphere). Add to that my Thursday, which was quite a pissy affair on SO many levels that it really is too disgusting to be hilarious any more (taking old people in for their urine tests really bites the dust - Dear God, please never let me reach a stage in my life where I lose all sense of dignity and decorum) - and the fact that Ordinary Guy totally kicked me out of The Spike (his beloved car) so that he could go to gym! (ok fine, in all fairness, he offered to cancel and I told him not to - because if it were me and my running, I wouldn't want to have to forgo it either - endorphins are vital! And, I'd rather he be a regular gym-er than a couch potato)...and then, Nemo and I spent the evening on 9Gag - we all know, I need not say any more.

And then we come to Friday. Nemo and I took a drive to town - on separate missions. Quality time with Bob, which was much needed, was as usual, an awesome affair. Poor Nemo was a bit traumatized by my need for speed, but he held up admirably, and also, (quite wonderfully) discovered the Chinch-socket for auxilliary music, so that we could make use of his very awesome iPhone in the car (D, I was bust on your behalf - every single female ZMS Matriculant of 2008 will understand exactly what is so hilarious about that gadget). Also, I received my hard copy of my last semester results in the mail - all distinctions baby! (Yeah, Ordinary Guy is probably laughing his ass off - but we all can't be hardcore geeks and score distinctions on our distinctions like him, now can we?). Thanks to 5FM, Nemo and I also discovered the Deadmau5 and Gerard Way collaboration, "Professional Grieffers" - if you haven't heard it, go and find it, NOW! - though really, the Deadmau5 instrumental is probably better. And then, Nemo introduced me to "Breaking Bad" - I spent the first 10minutes of the first episode, going, "wtf?!" and by the end, I really wanted to watch the next one. Then, we spent the evening (after a few guests had come and gone) shooting hoops in the back yard - and let me just tell you, shooting hoops in stilettos, totally requires skill! I would absolutely high five myself, if that didn't seem on the top-side of lame. And, Ordinary Guy did eventually call - amazing how he managed to fit time for me in his very busy schedule yesterday (only a hint of sarcasm there, I swear) just as I fell off to sleep. And then, I was up all night. Till 4am. 

And I wake up and am told that a cousin of mine has passed away...

At least I got to go for my morning jog, now that Ramadaan is over - it was just 2k's, but honest to goodness, it made me feel so good! The parents have officially taken off to JHB, to attend the funeral, leaving the three idiots in charge of the house and old person. I earned myself a free lunch today though! Nemo didn't believe I'd eat a Nando's extra hot meal without exploding - and I totally did, and in addition, didn't even need any liquids to cool my palette down in between bites (what?! I'm an Indian ok) - so whoop, thanks Nemo for buying my lunch. And, the brothership is trying to coax us into our own personal version of The Hangover vs Project X, but quite frankly, neither is possible considering we'll never get high on anything stronger than chilli powder around here.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Welcome to RetardLove UCT!

In between the avalanche of visitors, sucky assignment results (due to arrogant carelessness) and not really seeing Ordinary Guy very much (save 5minutes yesterday afternoon, when he double parked next to me and annoyed the crap out of the other drivers on the road - but made me laugh) my week has been rather borderline depressive. THIS, right here, totally made this un-RetardLove-like week, absolutely freaking coolbeans!
Published in University of Cape Town's varsity paper, photograph courtesy of Sohana Harrilal 

We are The Media Elite!

“And with a straight face, you’re going to tell students that America’s so starspangled awesome that we’re the only ones in the world who have freedom? Canada has freedom, Japan has freedom, the UK, France, Italy, Germany, Spain, Australia, Belgium has freedom. Two hundred seven sovereign states in the world, like 180 of them have freedom. And you… sorority girl. Yeah, just in case you accidentally wander into a voting booth one day, there are some things you should know, and one of them is that there is absolutely no evidence to support the statement that we’re the greatest country in the world. We’re seventh in literacy, twenty-seventh in math, twenty-second in science, forty-ninth in life expectancy, 178th in infant mortality, third in median household income, number four in labor force, and number four in exports. We lead the world in only three categories: number of incarcerated citizens per capita, number of adults who believe angels are real, and defense spending, where we spend more than the next twenty-six countries combined, twenty-five of whom are allies…”
I just watched one of the most brilliant television series to hit the airwaves in a very long time. It's intelligent, it's quirky and it's real, and it's brought to you by the creators of The West Wing and the writer of The Social Network - both of which have previously been reviewed on The Pinus, and both of which have claimed numerous television and media awards.

Best of all, it's RELEVANT. In a world, where increasingly, we're selling our common sense to the masses of ridiculous and meaningless 'entertainment' reality shows, this show is a refreshing breath of air. An eye opener. A pioneer. Something that's really got me interested again. If you're one of the elite who enjoy smart rather than stupid, "The Newsroom" is definitely something you should be watching!


[another, similar review written by me can be found @ http://digitalstreet.co.za/2012/08/22/we-are-the-media-elite/ as well - Digital Street is another project I'm proud to be a part of - it's basically a directory of everything and anything happening around you. A Lawrence Jugmohan initiative].

Tuesday, August 21, 2012

So Much More...retarded.

I read somewhere that people who drink more coffee tend to have more hallucinations - please tell me THAT explains the stupid people I see walking around everywhere!

What? Don't look at me like that...one can live in hope, can't one? Is it too much to ask that my excessive coffee intake is responsible for the bleak future I see the world faced with, when inhabited by a generation whose neocortex is grossly underdeveloped thanks to DSTV and the advent of the all glorious technological era?

I feel like that kid from Sixth Sense half the time...the other half, I'm pretty sure that my brain simply cannot invent something so realistically retarded (not the good kind) - it goes against the grain.





Monday, August 20, 2012

Eat and Be Merry...

Eid is always the most joyous occasion in our home, and this year was no exception. We had the usual crowd of people in and out, and the tables were laid outside on the balcony so that everyone could eat with the beautiful sea view as their entertainment. The inside tables were laden with everything pretty, delectable and tempting and the drink jugs were always brimming. The kids were running about, their laughter audible even when you couldn't see them and bits of gift wrap from their gifts (torn open in barely contained excitement) would invariably flit about when you least expected them to - like tufts of confetti. The inside jokes and easy banter which fall together every time my family convenes wafted around like old friends and the weather held up, smiling along with us.

It was, however, a day tinged with sadness. It was the first time that such an integral member of our clan wasn't around. I'm pretty sure that everyone felt it - but what saddened me most, is that nobody wanted to talk about it.

It's difficult to float around, all smiles and helpful hands, and laugh and joke and carry on as if the day is everything you want it to be - when really, it's not. I wasn't even going to apply henna this year, because it didn't feel like a cause for celebration, even though it undoubtedly is. My Grandmother used to apply henna for me when I was a little girl...I remember how she would insist I sit still and meticulously apply the brownish paste to my finger nails, and then plant me in front of the television for as long as I would endure so that the colour would catch, and when I became too antsy and threatened rebellion, she would quickly whisk me off to wash it all off and then admire the red colour which bloomed out. Back then, it never really piqued my interest, but I remember my Grandmother used to love it. When I was younger, I never remembered a time when I ever saw her natural nail colour, it was always a scarlet red, the shading nearly always the exact same - it was only in the past few years, when her health deteriorated very badly, that the doctors ordered her not to apply the henna, as they needed to see her nail colour during check-ups...but you know, strangely enough, my Grandmother passed away with her gorgeous scarlet nails.

Even though I didn't really feel like doing it, I did eventually apply the henna, at 1:30am on Eid morning, after I had wrapped all the Eid gifts up and sorted out everything that needed to be done. I actually did it for Ordinary Guy - he was quite insistent, and I thought I'd do something to please him, seeing as I'm his main stress-point as of late. He hasn't seen it yet though...I'm not sure that he will either, before it fades away.

Every Eid, I'd dress, and traipse downstairs for her gasp of surprise and praise - my Grandmother loved all things beautiful, and she especially loved her clothes. This Eid, on went my dress, I slipped on my heels, slid on my jewellery and lined my eyes dark with kohl, and then sat on the edge of my bed wondering what to do with myself. There was no Grandmother to give me the final verdict. During the course of the day, everyone admired the lovely dress and my dark, red patterned hand and I smiled and thanked them politely. Except, I still didn't feel as beautiful...I just felt sort of hollow inside.

Today, another guest said to her companion, "I just love this child, she's grown into such a lovely young lady" and I smiled bashfully and thanked her, and her companion replied, "She was brought up partly by Grandmother, so you shouldn't be surprised." That moment, right there, that compliment, made me truly smile inside - not for what it said about me, but because of what it said about my Grandmother. It made me want to cry too. Of course, I didn't...though I did wish, that there was someone around to give me one of those everything's-going-to-be-ok kind of hugs. Except, there wasn't.

My Grandmother was a Lady
- the kind that's very rare.
I never paid attention,
I never really cared.
But now I'm glad she tried her best,
To pass on to me that flair.

Thursday, August 16, 2012

A Year in the Life of Someone Who Knows No Stress...

Last night wasn't a particularly good night for me. Until, I sat on the floor of the room, folded into myself, counted to ten and slowly felt my anger melt away. And I began to think of the year I've left behind me...

1) I fell in love with India:
  • I was bombarded by Mumbai - and it's addictive ever cyclic rhythms and beats.
  • I danced with a gypsy prince and out in the streets, amid coloured confetti and a kaleidoscope of fireworks, in a pulsating crowd of people all gleefully counting down to the end of the world.
  • I slept in a palace! The kind where epic tales are set, with narrow passageways, high walls, beautiful gardens and air so fresh it cut through my skin.
  • I rode an elephant in Jaipur.
  • I ate cotton candy off the streets.
  • I spied a wild tiger in Ranthambore! I finally got to recite a poem that captured a moment so perfectly...
  • I caught my breath at the Taj Mahal - at its beauty and its sadness...it is just a tomb after all.
  • I witnessed the two extremes of Humanity - the nauseatingly rich and the innovative poor - living side by side, in shocking juxtaposition.

2) I got a little taste of teaching:
  • And found out I'm capable of being the kind of teacher who I never used to like very much.
  • And realised that I rather quite like it.
  • And I discovered, I'm actually not that bad at it.

3) I lost someone I loved:
  • I learnt how to keep calm when every nerve inside me is screaming.
  • I stood next to death, and didn't even know it.
  • I felt what it was like to be absolutely powerless.
  • I watched people crumble, and found the glue to hold them together.
  • I discovered my little shoulders are broader and stronger than I ever imagined.
  • I finally understood what it truly meant to die a little bit inside.
  • I realised that it's not so difficult to man-up when it's the only thing that holds you together.

4) The usual:
  • I've nodded my head and choked back my words and stuffed away my angry thoughts a hundred times over.
  • I've said yes, while thinking no, too many times to count.
  • I've smiled to hide the scars nobody wants to see.
  • I've sold so many pieces of my soul I've lost count - saying, "It doesn't matter," when it really does.
  • I've forgiven - and watched it be blown away, a token taken for granted.
  • I've asked forgiveness about just as much - and seen that tallied up against my criminal record.
  • There were even times where I laughed so much, that I couldn't breath - when everything seemed so perfect.
  • The bouts of fear and anger, and the running which seemed to be the only cure.
  • Catch up sessions with the members of RetardLove, who's voices, every single time, make me feel like I've come home.
  • Held my tongue and bit my pride and remembered that I still have more than others even wish they could have.
  • Time with D - moments treasured.
  • Still trying to conform into a world that simultaneously cuts me up and binds me together.

5) I've taken on the responsibility of someone else:
  • And it's made me realise that old people, are very much like kids.
  • I found my limitless store of patience.
  • I learnt more about taking care of an invalid than I ever thought I'd need to know.
  • I watch my grandfather grow older every day, I wonder every morning, "is this the day God is going to take him away?

6) I'm back to studying:
  • And I remembered how much of a nerd I really am.
  • My mind came alive again.

7) And I met Ordinary Guy:
  • Someone who's both proportionately opposite to, and at the same time, quite like, me.
  • A stranger - who really doesn't feel like such a stranger any more.
  • One of the few people, who has the ability to make me feel infinitely stupid.
  • The only person who somehow cheers me up with just the sound of his voice.
  • My inspiration to sketch again...
  • Who tries to take care of me - a welcome change from the past year of being responsible for everyone but myself.
Today, talking to Ordinary Guy, he made a comment - and I'm sure he was joking - but it still stung nonetheless. I wanted to say, "I'm not some flimsy, spoilt, little rich kid. I've been through more than you could ever guess."

I look back on my year, and while its had its highs and its lows - both were extremes and both in direct contrast to each other...and I thought of how making it all seem so effortless, requires more effort than you could ever imagine. 

My mother never told me that I was special.
"There are so many others in The World, like you."
- the empty promises, with no follow through.
My mother never told me that I was special...
I learnt not to mind.
It made me go ahead and prove her wrong,
Every single time.

Wednesday, August 15, 2012

You don't buy a Mercedes, if you can't maintain a Mercedes

Ordinary Guy knows just how to push my buttons. In an ordinary world, he would be one of my least favourite people for that very reason - except, I haven't been living in an ordinary world as of late.

Today I made a comment, while patting Jem (the new car) affectionately on the dash, about how that's my goal - to one day own something as beautiful as him. Ordinary Guy latched onto the words like a pit-bull with a kitten, and immediately asked me (and I'm paraphrasing a bit here), if I'm that materialistic and if my happiness is linked to something as profane as a car. 

Yes, I would certainly enjoy driving a car like that - in fact, I do enjoy driving that car - and I would definitely enjoy owning it...but my statement was more complex than simply that. To me, that car represents everything that my parents have achieved in their life: they began with nothing, and now they have everything they ever wanted. It's a symbol. A symbol of achieving the sort of life that you're content to live. And honestly, I don't think there's anything wrong in aspiring towards beautiful things. Beautiful things please me - I am an artist after all - but not owning them doesn't sadden me either. My happiness is linked in direct proportion to the people and experiences in my life. Anybody who knows me, knows that it's not very difficult to make me happy.  For me, life isn't about where I'm at, it's about who I'm with - the journey is more important than the destination, and the people you travel with are the ones who make it memorable. And those memories last longer than things, and that I treasure more that anything in the world. 

Simply put: you don't buy a Mercedes, if you can't maintain a Mercedes. I want to be able to have that option. Whether I invoke it or not, is another story altogether.

P.s Ordinary Guy got me bubble wrap! I FEEL LIKE A KID AGAIN! <insert larger than life grin here>.

Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Everything has a catalyst...

I've been floating in and out of sleep for the past few hours - and finally my mind has decided to kick me out of wierd-dream-land and into insomnia.

I blame Ordinary Guy and his overwhelming need to fix me (I wasn't really broken by the way). If he didn't beg me to close my eyes earlier than usual and rest my body, I bet I'd still be fast asleep, right this minute, and this post wouldn't be published. See, my mind and body can't consolidate themselves with each other. So even if one is tired, the other will be wide awake - and vice versa. Ordinary Guy's theory was, "If you don't sleep, you won't get better," because sleep seems to be a vital catalyst to a dose of the revolting (yet effective) Med-Lemon, which I downed in desperation tonight (I have NO inclination to let the flu take over my system).

He actually put me to sleep. The last person to do that was my Grandmother, plus-minus twelve years ago. He guilted me with his begging (Ordinary Guy never begs), and soothed me with his voice, and counted sheep over the phone (for a good while!) till my mind slowly began to fog up with unwanted sleep. And after ordering me to wake him up if I couldn't sleep, he quietly cut the call just as my limbs felt so heavy that they were going to melt into Sex on Legs (my bed), and my eyes seemed glued shut, and my voice would barely make it past my throat in order for me to say, "I think I'm falling asleep..."

And I did wake up. Several times after. Except I couldn't bring myself to interrupt his much needed rest. You see, he deserves it more than I do. And now, eventually, I've given up trying to slink back into wierd-dream land. So, Hello there Pinus! I really should be nicer to Ordinary Guy...

Monday, August 13, 2012

Letter to The Confused

Dear Pedestrians of Stanger,

Contrary to your popular belief, you do not own the roads. Please refrain from walking expressly at the centre of them.

Yours sincerely,
Annoyed Driver. 

Sunday, August 12, 2012

Well, colour me yellow!

After a five month dry spell, and numerous botched attempts at a hundred different pieces of artwork, I FINALLY got my "sketch" on! Do not even ask me how I conjured it up - I have no answer. Up since 4.45am, my attempts at willing myself back to sleep did not work (surprise, surprise), and so I instead decided to give it one more try (if this didn't work, I was packing away my pencils for a good few months). And somehow, a picture drew itself. I was so absorbed, that I didn't even notice what was taking shape, till two hours later and I sat back to rub my stiff neck...and then I gazed at it in stunned amazement. Literally.

It took me a good few minutes to consolidate the fact that I had drawn this picture (and a good few turns of staring at my led stained finger tips and then at the page before me), till I promptly went ahead and thanked God for giving me such a wonderful gift - I may be the greatest clutz this side of the hemisphere, am probably retarded (not the good kind) when faced with numbers, and have the uncanny ability of injuring myself every time I step into a kitchen...but God certainly made up for those bugs by writing in some pretty brilliantly coded talents. 

So, while I may never understand why I'm not a number whiz like my mother or a charismatic leader like my father, today's epiphany made me realise that I'm still my own version of concentrated awesomeness - when you stop trying so hard to be what they want you to be, and instead concentrate on being who you are, it all begins to make sense.

Life Lesson #3321: 
Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself ~ George Bernard Shaw

Saturday, August 11, 2012

My Favourite Place in The World

I dreamt of my grandparents house in Reservoir Hills.

Everything was so vivid - I could smell the delicious aroma's wafting in from the kitchen (my grandmothers eternal happy place). I could hear the radio on in their bedroom, even though there was nobody there, and the T.V on in the lounge, where my grandfather was firmly planted in his musty green recliner, watching cricket highlights. There was the passage between the bedrooms and the rest of the house, the burgundy tiles shined, polished and smooth - always - just right for sock-skating. I could even hear the tinkle of the long strands of beads framing the walkway as the wind blew in from the perpetually open front door. I remember the dining room table, large enough to fit our entire family - and then some, at a comfortable squeeze. I remember how I used to go and sit underneath it when I didn't want to be found. I remember the blue tiles of the entrance hall; the wooden lattice-work door; the dark wood cabinet that always smelt of incense sticks, and was always so polished that you could use it as a mirror when all else failed. I remember the black tiled balcony: my playroom, the sowing room, the storage, 'exercise' and prayer area. I remember all the bedrooms - having usually used one - or sometimes all of them - in a single night: waking up at the oddest of hours and absconding on my sitters in favour of some other...but nobody ever got mad at me, and each would usually welcome me into their beds and under their covers in their groggy half asleep states, accommodating my child-like need to conform to the shape of their bodies without complaint. I remember the rocking chair that used to put me to sleep on so many occasions. I remember the garage, filled with everything you could possibly ever need, stacked to the rafters and above, my magic room of requirement. I remember the back yard, and the dog's house. I remember the mango and litchi orchard at the back - and all the games of make-believe that were born there, that occupied me for hours on end. I remember the paw paw trees and the way the monkeys would chuck their half eaten chunks down at our dog, who would, in his aggravation, lie in wait till some unsuspecting monkey under estimated him and either came down, or fell of his perch - woe to that little critter. I remember the front garden: and all the colours that seemed to explode out at you when you entered it, juxtaposed against the blue barley face-brick of the house: Roses in different stages of bloom lining one wall; foliage, lush and green creeping out at you from another; ferns, the beautiful, massive, ferns demanding your attention no matter where you stood. I remember the veranda and the hot days when the kiddies pool would be dragged out from the room of requirement, and filled to the brim with divinely cold water, and my grandmother would strip me down and leave me in there to create a jolly old mess and stay out of her way. I remember Eid days and family braais; I remember birthdays and weddings; I remember so many people, that the house seemed fit to burst - except that it never did, and there was always room for one more - and then some. I remember the shrieks of laughter and late night thanee games among the adults - where, back then, I never understood what was going on, but enjoyed it immensly nonetheless. I remember losing my first tooth there; I remember riding my bicycle up and down that driveway; I remember all the scrapes and bruises and knocks about that taught me how to stiffen up my upper lip and just get on with it; I remember the wooden-spoon hidings when I was particularly mischievous and the make-up chocolate cake my grandmother would bake me afterwards; I remember baking my first cake there, which was so rock solid that nobody could eat it - yet my one cousin valiantly pretended to enjoy it for the sake of my pride; I remember games of hide and seek and blind man's bluff and tag; I remember sick days and days where everything just seemed so right with the world...I remember growing up there, in my fairytale kingdom where I reigned supreme...

That's what I want for my kids (when I do eventually have them)- somewhere where memories are made; where experiences are remembered; where Life comes to life. I don't want a big house, I just want a big home...I want them to have a Favourite Place in The World too, one they'll never forget and carry with them in their hearts wherever they may go...just like the way I carry 253 Mountbatten Drive, Reservoir Hills in mine.

Thursday, August 9, 2012

The Last Cool Generation

Yesterday, I ended up wasting my time arguing with a fool. The only reason it makes its way onto The Pinus, is because the little chit of a girl (whose extensive vocabulary had me shaking in my boots - NOT), made me realise something quite astounding...this new generation sucks!

Whatever happened to the days where you could insult someone, and expect at least a halfway worthy insult back? I bet you she probably didn't even understand half of the words I chucked at her, and I was going easy (and that's even being optimistic). We had Generation X, then came along us Generation Y's and now, I'm pretty sure, that this recent one is Generation Z - whose title in itself prophesies doom on so many different levels.

If you were born in the early 90's, you should be proud of yourself! We were the generation who understood words of more than three syllables; the generation who could pull off bootlegs; the ones who followed Pokemon, and DragonballZ, Ed Edd & Eddy and The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles!; the ones who didn't need auto-correct; the ones who discovered Oreo's; the ones who simply couldn't resist finishing, "in west Philadelphia born and raised" - who knew Will Smith before he made his name; we were the generation who the Play Station made its début to; the generation of Harry Potter, Eminem and the original Disney Films!; the last generation to know who likes ORANGE SODA - we were the Nickelodean kids; the last ones to see a floppy disk; we were, the last generation, to play outside - for fun...
Dear World, on behalf of Generation Y, I'd like to offer my condolences. You're in for some tough times. We're sorry we can't duplicate our awesomeness. Sincerely, The Last Cool Generation.

Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Misadventures of Tuesday

  1. I feel like I'm going to lose my very early breakfast (sehri). 
  2. I'm babysitting. A very large, very sick, very crabby seventeen year old.
  3. I'm going back into the kitchen today - in fact, I should have been back in the kitchen two hours ago, but some unforeseen circumstances popped up.
  4. Which means, that I'm going to come out of today with even more injuries than yesterday. If that's possible at all (knowing my proclivity for self-infliction, it probably is).
  5. I have to give a tutoring session in three hours. 
  6. Which means, that I have three hours to prepare a perfect birthday dinner for said seventeen year old without being able to taste a single thing to make sure they balance, ice and decorate said persons birthday cake, make sure said person doesn't choke on his own up-chuck (I KNEW there was a valid reason as to why I didn't go into the medical field), and sort myself out.
  7. The parents keep calling every ten minutes to check on their beloved son, thus interrupting my very multiple multitasking (you don't ask me if I'm busy and when I reply in the affirmative, go on to spend the next ten minutes talking to me about absolutely redundant topics - which you just discussed with me ten freaking minutes ago. YOUR SON IS ALIVE. I would definitely notify you had the situation been even remotely otherwise).
  8. Did I mention that I have an army of very angry gnomes jumping around inside my skull?
  9. You do NOT want to mess with me right now. 
  10. Whoever said that Tuesdays are better than Mondays...lied. 
  11. Pray I don't permanently damage some useful part of my anatomy during my adventures in the kitchen.
  12. Feel special, I just wasted 10minutes of my very valuable time on you (yes YOU, #pinusFollower).
  13. I really shouldn't have played in the hail last night - I think my nose is about to fall off.

Life Lesson #314

I logged onto Fb and Twitter last night, and was accosted by everyone's updates and wild exclamations about the intense hail hitting the ground - I was baffled, it was dry as ice over here (oh puns. Don't you love them?). I thought, what hail?! What on earth is everyone going on about? Am I sure that I'm living on the right planet? (I was sceptical about that last one).

Five minutes later, THE SKY BEGAN TO FALL! And so began the mad dash (I scheme I'm a pun addict), to save the cars. Dad managed to get the new car under cover, while I got beat up by small, iced-up pebbles from above and unfortunately, didn't get to Atticus (our 12 year old, legend of a car) in time. I realised that it was either Atticus or me - and somehow knew (my intuition is back, remember) that the old boy wouldn't want me to incur a concussion at his expense. Nonetheless, after it slowed down, I still went back outside to watch the tide of white, cold stones rush down our driveway and blanket the grass; I managed to catch a few too, and even ate one - don't look at me like that, this is the closest I'm ever going to get to playing in snow around here!

This morning, however, I woke up with a bad case of an I'm-about-to-get-very-sick feeling. Fingers crossed my awesome immune system pulls me through - plus, I drank a concentrated dose of the disgusting (yet usually effective) Med-Lemon. I still somehow think that this time, it's not going to be enough  to ward off the dastardly virus attacking everyone I know right now.

Life Lesson #314: don't play in the hail...

Monday, August 6, 2012

Irony: when you're good at what you hate.

I should be banned from the kitchen - if only because I'll probably end up meeting my doom in there. Burnt in five different places - thank you convection oven, you rock. The silver lining? My estimations were more like absolutely correct. The biscuits are lovely. Thank you God! Hello there, I've missed you Intuition. Two cakes and 1kg of biscuits later and I'm ready to hit the shower. I was feeling so chuff with myself (because I got a gazillion other things done in between it all) that I had to share my epic feeling of having survived the day - with all my limbs intact, if slightly singed. I'm high-tailing it out of here now - but I'm sure I'll be back pretty soon - now you see me, now you <poof - disappears in a cloud of pixie dust and vanilla stuff>!

Murphy's Law

Good News: Ordinary Guy is alive.
Bad News: Ordinary Guy is being attacked by a tenacious case of the flu.

And today, I'm supposed to be baking Eid biscuits - except I can't find the recipe. I wouldn't be too cut up about it, except my mother is probably going to come back and fly off the handle if she gets home and the biscuits aren't all baked and coated and pretty-looking, ready to freeze for the next 13 days. (I hate baking biscuits, just by the way - I dread the two Eid's, solely because of all the time they involve with me in the kitchen).

Well anyway, I better get cracking. Fortune Cookie says (how ironic), "When in doubt, estimate!"
Fingers crossed my intuition is fixed.

Sunday, August 5, 2012

Tomorrow is Monday...

I've figured out why I was out of sorts - told you, it was all linked up to my chaotically ordered desk (now everything is so functional, that if you were trying to find anything - even the things that you're not supposed to - you'd have a clearly labelled road map). Well, anyway, that's behind me.

Moving on to more important matters...like Milo! I honestly wonder how our resident owl is doing. It's been ages since I've seen him, though I think that I heard him the other night (I'm not too sure to be quite honest, it could have been him or it could have just been a figment of my imagination - I was just about falling asleep at the time you see). I really hope he's still alive...nobody else pays much attention to my ramblings at 2am.

Everyone around me is being hit with the flu bug. Touch wood, my sinuses haven't acted up at all this year...and so far, I've been able to avoid the sick hand everyone else is being dealt. Thank you God, for giving me an awesome immune system!

And...Ordinary Guy has gone AWOL. I honestly hope he's still alive too.

I'm just chaotically ordered...

The cluttered confusion of my desk, is right now aggravating me. Usually, it's absolutely familiar to me - and I love it, because people can't go snooping around it, simply because they'll confuse themselves into knots. At the moment, however, my Cognitive Artifact illustrates just how furiously my synapses are sparking (there's the concern that my brain might spontaneously combust at any given moment).
Albert Einstein once said, "If a cluttered desk is the sign of a cluttered mind, of what, then, is an empty desk?" Right now, I need an empty desk - it's imperative to my mental (and by association, emotional) well-being.
"Chaos and order are not enemies, only opposites" ~ Richard Garriott.

Sunday Schmonday

I think it's the whole idea of a committee that's been bothering me. Maybe it's because, in my experience, committee meetings usually entail a bunch of people (or a chosen few) who talk a lot, but hardly accomplish anything - because usually, nobody can agree, or because nobody is willing to compromise. I truly hope to fudge that this committee is different - on the plus side, ego's seem to be running at near non existent levels (for now), and that's always a good sign.

I should be asleep. I really should. I don't even know why I'm still awake this early on a Sunday morning - I think the past few days have rewired my internal clock to late nights and early mornings...and you all know what a hassle my clock can be once it gets frozen in a certain mode.

Also, D goes back to Durban today...

Saturday, August 4, 2012

My Intuition is broken

"What must I do? Where must I go? WHY IS HE REVERSING?!" Welcome to Driving102 - with me as the instructor and D as the (at the beginning) panicking student. Stop laughing! Contrary to popular belief, this is NOT a recipe for disaster. In fact, we did pretty well, all things considered - complete with retard_moments and everything. Today actually consolidated how much I really have missed D: nobody else can have an entire conversation with me in just one glance; or finish my thoughts before I've even voiced them. And there is no way in Pinus that I'd have let anybody else as skittish as that get behind the wheel of a car with me as a passenger - but I'm proud of her, she was 60km/h back in the groove by the final stretch.

I feel bad about not giving Ordinary Guy my full attention today. It's going to be a while till I next see him, and I spent most of the time today talking to Bob over the phone because she needed me to...I honestly worry about that child. I think a Mitch intervention is needed soon - she and Tasneem will give me grey hairs before my time!

Dex is in bed, comatose with the flu. I'm not sure if he even remembers what he said to me when I walked into his room - I'm not sure even I remember actually. Poor kid. I took him some chocolate mousse, but I don't think he'll even be able to taste it at all right now (and he's been craving it for about a year). I ended up slipping out quietly and depositing it in the fridge, and then spending the next ten minutes standing outside in the sunshine, discussing how men never do the jobs around the house that they're supposed to with his father.

I also attended an Alumni meeting - while I had to leave early and therefore missed half of it and the conclusion, I think it's pretty commendable what they're trying to do for their Alma Mater. At the same time, something about it, that I can't quite put my finger on, is bothering me. Which is not a very helpful feeling at all, considering that I can't actually define it. It's a young project, here's to hoping it achieves its goals.

I have an uneasy feeling tonight, despite my D-filled day sprinkled with Ordinary. I dislike these feelings, they're so vague. Right now, I think I'll drink my ginger tea and then read a little - The Other Side of Israel by Susan Nathan - very enlightening; it's going to be a long night.


Friday, August 3, 2012

A Day in the Life of - oh look, a pixie!!


  1. Burnt myself making Naan  (lethal hazard to myself in the kitchen - what's new?!)
  2. My mother asked me to curb my acidic tongue when faced with idiotic questions - especially from guys - I retorted with, "I'm not some silly girl they can charm with a few cheesy lines". She retorted with, "Be careful or you'll scare them all away...It's the silly girls they end up marrying!" 
  3. I began to wonder, however will I survive the crushing disappointment of not being stuck for the rest of my life with someone who I can't have a conversation with?! (Sarcasm - oh the joy of its uses are endless.)
  4. Karma got back at the Brothership by making him slip in a puddle of mud and almost fall flat on his face - almost.
  5. Got lost in the sugar cane fields for half an hour - was epicly (EPICLY) late for Iftaar. 
  6. Thus, I have a new-found respect for Atticus (our twelve year old car). 
  7. Learnt that "I know a short cut," means, "I will take the longest possible route, you will be able to see your destination, but you won't be able to get there, because when it comes to forks in the road...it's anybody's guess."
  8. I think Ordinary Guy left me with whatever bug is wrecking his system - I can feel the beginnings of sick freezing my nose off.

Thursday, August 2, 2012

Am I even coherent at this hour?

I can't sleep. It's been ages since I've experienced Insomnia on this level. I fell asleep for about an hour, during which time my dreams ran rampant and wierd to the power WIERD, as usual (over-active imaginations are sometimes annoying). I woke up craving chocolate and so thirsty that my throat felt like sand paper. I'm not sure if this is one of those times to be awesome, or simply one of those times to be annoyed - I'm still in my post sleep haze, stuck between burning eyes and a wide-a-freaking-wake mind.

I've been re-reading my post on Burma, wondering whether I've information overloaded you lovely people of Planet Pinus...and then I decided that considering how many people have already read it in the short space of time since it's been posted, and how few people really know what's going on, it's a fine proportion of fact versus reflection.

Ordinary Guy isn't well tonight World. I think I'm a pretty bad influence on him - and for that I feel quite guilty (Though he would probably tell me to get off my high horse and stop thinking myself so special - how do I know? Why, it's because I'd tell him the exact same thing if our roles were reversed). But, honest, I think the late nights, early mornings and long days are catching up with his immune system and I can't help but feel partly responsible. In as good as he's been for combating my insomnia, I think I've had the directly proportionate opposite effect on him. You know what though? I think it's a good thing that I didn't get to talk to him tonight - I've been growing too comfortable with our nightly conversations, actually clock watching when the time draws near. Not good. I'm beginning to feel too dependent on these random conversations of ours. So, while I really feel bad about it, considering he didn't look at all well earlier on and he must really be feeling pretty freaking sick to skip a call, his falling sick seems to be a blessing in disguise.

Well, anyway, I shall be out - to go and drink some water, because I'm lucky enough to actually be able to, when I want to. And then, I think I'm going to try and  draw a little bit, or write a poem, or read a book - or maybe all three, depending on how far away sleep insists on straying from me tonight. Sleep well you wonderful people - because you can. I am totally envious right now.

Looking into Burma

N.B. All reference to "Buddhists" in the following post does NOT refer to monks, but rather a sect of Hindu's.

One man goes on a killing spree in an American cinema, killing twelve people, and every news channel, news paper and radio station is covering it - not to mention, it's plastered all over the world wide web.
Apparent thousands are being massacred in Burma, a sovereign country in South-East Asia, and it takes the world a good few weeks to even realise that something seriously wrong is in motion.
I say apparent, because according to varied reports, the death toll ranges from 20,000 to 28 to 79 - all depending on which website you choose to read. Mass media has been uninterestedly sluggish in bringing the  situation to light - that in itself disgusts me. In a time where we should have the freedom of expression, we have a controlled media; we have the most powerful search engines at our finger tips, but the weakest Humanity driving them.

It's difficult to really know what exactly is going on in Burma - each report has a different tale to tell. The one common denominator that I've been able to identify in each of the accounts I've read though, is that it all began when Buddhists ambushed a bus, and killed 10 Rohingya Muslims, in retaliation for the apparent rape and murder of a Buddhist woman, by three Muslims. From there, sectarian violence has only escalated. Tens of thousands of people have been displaced and homes have been burned. Now, with the explosion of world awareness, sparked by the outrage of a few human rights watchdogs, information is slowly trickling through. The problem is, however, it is difficult to establish what is fact and what is propaganda. For instance, I came across the following in a letter penned by Zin Yaw, the Myanmar Ambassador in New Delhi, in reply to a letter from Dr. Tasleem Ahmed Rahmani, President of the Muslim Political Council in India:
"Fake photos or false information have been spread with the ill intention to agitate Muslims around the world by attempting to create the impression that Muslims are being discriminated or killed in Myanmar and that such acts are state sponsored. Such are unsubstantiated accusations. Please do not be mislead by them."
On the other hand, other sources, for example, the Pakistani News Service, Pak Tribune, report that, "the events in Rakhine 'demonstrate that state sponsored persecution and discrimination persist' despite the governments pledge to end ethnic unrest". It goes on to quote sources as saying that the military themselves opened fire on Rohingya with live ammunition. Stating, "80 people dead from both sides, based on official figures - an estimate the HRW (Human Rights Watch) said appeared, 'grossly underestimated'". Again, the operative words being, "official figures". How are we to know what is truth, and what is mere propagation? While I haven't been able to find much about this on CNN or BBC, Al-Jazeerah reports that 80,000 people have been displaced, that Bangladesh is refusing entry to refugees, and that Myanmar's President Thein Sein even suggested that the Muslim minority should be moved out of the country. The following is a timeline, I've somewhat been able to draw up, depicting the events:
  • May 28th: 3 Muslims robbed, raped and murdered a Rakhine woman.
  • June 4th: a mob of Rhakine attacked a bus in Taungup, believing those responsible were on the bus. 10 Muslims were killed.
  • June 8th : Initial attacks - a mob of Rohingya set houses alight, surround police headquarters, damaging telephone lines. 17 villages are reported as being burnt. By 10pm, armed forces took positions. As of this date, 5 people were confirmed dead.
  • June 9th: Riots spread - Riots continued, despite increased security presence. The government set up refugee camps for those whose homes had been burnt. The official report states that at least 7 people had been killed.
  • June 10th: State of emergency - Control is given over to the military - who has, in the past, brutalised people in the region. On this date, according to the Rohingya, a 12 year old girl on a routine shopping trip was shot to death by police. Ethnic Rakhine burned Rohingya homes in retaliation. Five thousand people living at refugee camps by this date.
  • June 11th: Police are able to calm down violence. The UN begins moving all non-essential staff and their families out of the conflict zone, due to the state of emergency declared. The official death toll is 7, though many believe it is higher.
  • June 12th: more buildings are set ablaze. The death toll rises to 25. Bangladesh turned away refugees because its own resources were already under strain.  
  • June 14th: The death toll rises to 29 - 16 Muslim and 13 Buddhists. 
  • June 15th-28th: Estimated 80 deaths, though the President of the Burmese Rohingya Organisation, Tun Khin, states that as of this date, 650 Rohingya's have been killed. Rohignya's who managed to flee to Bangladesh also claim that police and army shot groups of villagers at gun point. Humanitarian workers are not allowed to enter the region by the police and army - sources say that they have received images and videos of brutal killings of the Rohingya, however, apparently due to the intensity of the violence news reporters are scared of going into the region
  • July: At the beginning of this month, 30 people are held accountable for the death of the original 10 Muslims killed in the bus sabotage on June 4th.
That is the last date I can gather any 'official' information about. In an effort to better understand this turbulence in Burma, I decided to research not the current events being perpetrated, but rather the events of the past. What I learned was this:
  • The Rohingya are a Muslim people who live in the Arakan region of Western Myanmar, Burma. As of this year, it is estimated that 80,000 Rohingya live in Myanmar. Muslim settlements have existed there since the arrival of Arabs in the area as far back as 8th Century CE. 
  • According to the United Nations, they are the most persecuted minority in the world. 
  • The history books write of their peaceful cohabitation with their Buddhist counterparts till the Burmese Conquest in 1785 - when the Burmese rulers executed thousands of them, and 35,000 Arkanese people fled to British Bengal. Thus, Arkan was a scarcely populated country by the time the British occupied it - according to some reports. 
  • According to others, the British conquered Burma in stages and eventually added it to their colony of India. These same reports state that the British and Burmese fought three wars - one in 1824-1836 when the west was conquered; another in 1852 where they took parts of the south; the last one in 1885 where-after, the remaining parts of Burma were formally annexed by Britain. 
  • However, after the 1932 rebellion, the Japanese invasion in 1942, the two failed British offences in 1942 and 1943 respectively, the attempted Japanese invasion of India in 1944 and the British countering in 1945, it finally became clear that they (the British) could no longer hold onto Burma and so they agreed to grant it independence in 1947. 
  • What strikes me here, is that anarchy began after the British occupation. And, this has happened in many other instances throughout history, the most famous being South Africa, Zimbabwe (formerly Southern Rhodesia), and India (which was broken up into India and Pakistan). 
  • In the case of Burma, dissent was created when the new government came into power in 1948, and throughout the 20th and 21st Centuries the country has experienced internal conflict - the Burmese government has classified Rohingya as "immigrants" to Burma and they aren't eligible for citizenship - despite their having been settled there for over 150 years; in practice, many people of Benagli descent face discriminatory legal restrictions on movement, marriage and reproduction, and are considered illegal and threatening to the country's stability (according to an article published by the Huffington Post).
  •  Add to the ethnic antagonism the fact that Burma is still undergoing political reform of its own, and remains a very poor country after decades of poor mismanagement, mass unemployment and high inflation, and the picture of a very volatile country emerges. 
After all my research, it doesn't leave much to my imagination to fathom how the recent bout of smoke-screened bloodshed could have been ignited. Undoubtedly, a massacre of a people is atrocious - whether it be Muslim or any other - but, what we don't know is, if indeed, any or all of the reports are to believed. And if they are, are we receiving all the facts, or just the propaganda we have no legitimate way of clarifying? What it boils down to, is really, the most cataclysmic weapon of mass destruction: our mass media - which has the power to influence millions of people around the world. What is worrying, is that when the media, who is supposed to keep us informed, keeps mum on matters such as this, it is in effect placing a value on the lives of these people - by not reporting on it, it's effectually saying, "it is not worth our time." It is debasing the sanctity of Human life - purporting that the life of certain people is lesser to another, and that the loss of that life is inconsequential in the greater scheme of the World. What right have we, or any other, to make such an assertion? Whatever is going on in Burma, for now, is cloaked in conflicting versions - it's time that our mass media stepped up to the plate and lived up to their responsibility of providing unbiased, fact-based information - and it's time that people began questioning the information that they hear and read. As far as I know, many people are spreading this news of a Burmese Massacre without fully verifying the sources they get their information from, and whatever is happening over there, had to have some sort of catalyst - which most of the world has no knowledge of. It's unsure whether all the reports are true or not, but before you propagate, do your research - will-full ignorance is just as sinful as indifference.

There are 9million bicycles in Beijing...

Fortune Cookie Says:
#1 Do not ask me stupid questions when I wake up in the morning - put your brain in gear if you want me to respond - else don't be surprised at my stony silence.
#2 The quickest way to alienate me, is to patronise me.
#3 Don't ever (EVER) tell me I can't do something - it immediately makes me want to do it all the more.

Today, World, I'm going for a run! Expect Smurfy old me back this afternoon - her leave of absence has lasted far too long.

P.s. Do you ever get the feeling like you're out of your depth, but you just want to keep on swimming anyway?