Of Pink Martinis and Purple Labradors

Brazilian Bruises

2006-11-21T01:13:00.000Z

I bruised myself today. Did a rather stupid thing by standing on a swivelly chair due to my lack of a full-length mirror. As a result, I'm sore all over and have gradually purpling bruises on my arms and legs. I am very clumsy, and actually rather uncoordinated.

I used to dance when I was little; starting off with traditional Sri Lankan dancing, referred to as Kandyan dancing, and then proceeded to ballet. Or maybe it was the other way around. Nevertheless, I think I used to be quite good, as I did do a couple of solo performances on stage. But either I have grown out of it and am just unable to channel any form of rhythm anymore.

Last year Helen and I started street dance lessons, after signing up for the Dance Society rather enthusiastically. The lessons were interesting, well to say the least. The music was urban and who doesn't love a bit of booty-shaking on a Tuesday evening to take your mind off work. We went to streetdance for fun, but I think that mindset was limited to just Helen and myself, as everyone else at the classes thought they were auditioning for a Beyonce video or something. They would put so much into it. Some could dance, some could not, but everyone tried. And then there was Helen and me, at the back, taking the piss. We did however learn some pretty funky moves, which we brought to full use at Oceana. Armed with a beer jacket, we busted up some pretty hot moves in the Ice Room. Good 'ole Oceana days.

This year, we tried out Afro-Samba. This was in our renewed effort to be Brazilian. I don't think I've written in this blog about my penchant for all things Brazilian, well most things Brazilian. Wax strips of a South American nature aren't really something I yearn for. Anyhow, my penchant for Brazil is somewhat confounded. I do come from an exotic place, so you'd think that I'd settle for Sri Lanka, but it just doesn't sound as cool as Brazil now does it. When I think Brazil, it brings to me gorgeous bronze Adonises lying on sandy beaches, beautifully beaded bikinis sported by an lusciously skinny me, sipping some sort of exotic cocktail. It brings to mind latino-jazz and that effortlessly cool, laid-back vibe. Come to think of it, Sri Lanka has pretty much all of that, well, minus the deliciously bronze Adonises and a lusciously skinny me, throw in some sleazy Sri Lankan oglers and some potent arrack tossed into that cocktail, and you've got a delightful Sri Lankan weekend.

I think when I am at home, I don't make full use of the beaches. And when I'm in ole Blighty, I long for my beach fix. This December I plan to make more use of it. I think a long weekend in Unawatuna would just be the fix. Deshal's post on Unawatuna (http://oneonethings.blogsome.com) made me really dhola-dhuka-fy (pregnancy cravings) for a good ole Down South fix.

Anyhow, am going to see Amy Winehouse tomorrow at the Academy. Very excited about that indeed. Apparently she's quite minging and a bit scary, but that just adds to her gutsy, I-don't-give-a-shit appeal. Will fill in with more details post-concert. I think we might be off to Po Na Na for a good indie/motown fix after the concert tomorrow. It should be good, I need to give myself a good dose of good music at clubs before heading back to Colombo where you can only expect to hear 50 cent and trance playing in the same set over and over again. It's sad that we don't have more house/beachy music in Colombo, although I have heard many great things of the Offshore parties, which sadly I always seem to miss. Brazilian Beats this Thursday as well, good time to try out my Afro-Samba skills, after a few VodkaLemonades maybe!! I was actually THE most uncoordinated person in that class! The teacher actually felt sorry for me. My hopes of being Brazilian were shattered after that first and last Afro-Samba lesson. Sigh.

Musically Speaking

2006-11-08T21:42:00.000Z

I knew this was going to happen. I have been struggling to finish a post, for hmm about seven months now, and only when I am stressed, overworked and exhausted, do I find inspiration to finish writing something, well anything other than the essay I need to get done by 9am tomorrow morning.

I think I am the strangest person I have ever met. I wonder if that is a valid statement, because surely you don't ever meet yourself. If it were physically possible, then I would actually be the strangest person I have ever met. I tell myself I work best under pressure. However, the past few weeks have disputed that. I started off this year well, being very conscientious with the tutorial prep, and things have been running rather smoothly, overlooking the daily panic attacks. Then our lovely tutors decided to surprise us with a 2500 word essay, and I am sitting here two days before the deadline, still on my first skeleton plan. Bugger. I can see myself falling into that vicious last-minute, panic-attack inducing, fattening (I do consume far more wotsits per hour during all nighters), and just generally unhealthy cycle. I'm consoling myself with the fact that this is merely a practice essay. The real coursework kicks in first week of December, and then I plan to be far more organised. Well I plan to be. Now that I have written it down, I am going to hold myself to it.

This post isn't really about anything specific, and I doubt anyone is even going to bother reading it. If you did, then I appreciate it. Really, I do.

There are however, two things that I did want to mention. Actually, make that three.

Firstly, I have an obsessive, compulsive disorder of iTunes shopping. I think I must have dished out about thirty quid on random stuff. Although, the new John Legend album is stellar, and I would recommend it very strongly. It has a lovely, motown'esque feel to it. Slow Dance is particularly old school. He brings together a strong jazz influence to it, which complements his soul genre. I've noticed how a lot of artists are reworking jazz and motown, which I think, reiterates that the Jazz andMotown years were the best years for music.

I've stumbled across some of the works of Amy Winehouse and Lily Allen. The latter is more commercial, and not as talented as the former. Although I only noticed Allen's lack of vocal talent when it was pointed out to me by a friend. She's quite tongue in cheek though, and brings together a rather eclectic mix of jazz, and ska. I particularly like her reworking of 50 cent's Window Shopper, with Nan, You're a Window Shopper. Urban music is so standard, it's hilarious. Don't get me wrong, I'm an urban music junkie, but it does bemuse me. Lily Allen captures that precise perspective. I doubt she is going to be one of those artists who produce consistently good music, but hey I could be wrong.

Amy Winehouse on the other hand, is a right laugh. I listened to some of her music last year, and really enjoyed it. She has a stronger jazz influence than Allen, and a lot of her tracks have the 'big band' feature, which I think compliments her masculine, almost Nina Simone'esque, voice rather well. I have taken a fancy to Me and Mr Jones, which is a spin on the Marvin Gaye classic, in a more feminist take. It is marvellous, and I would call it one of my favourite tracks of the year. It has got this brazen cheekiness to it, similar to Allen, yet in a grander fashion. Thikshana had seen Amy Winehouse on the Charlotte Church Show, where she and Charlotte Church performed a rendition of Beat It, and apparently Winehouse had been sloshed off her face. I found that quite hilarious, and like her even more.

The next thing I was going to mention was the new Borat movie, which I was dragged along to. Yes, dragged. Honestly, Borat doesn't amuse me as much as everyone said it would. However, I'm going to leave that for my next post, as I really do need to get back to my essay.

PS - Apologies for the rather unimaginative title, but I couldn't think of anything random enough to stick on there.

Precipitation

2006-03-27T23:04:00.000Z

Rain, Rain Go Away.
It has been raining since Thursday night. Casey said to me, as we wandered down to Zero Degrees, on Thursday evening, that it had been predicted to be a very wet weekend. As weather forecasts in England generally go, I expected plenty of sunshine on Friday morning. Alack, I was wrong and the weatherman, on this rare occasion, was spot on. Tragedy, as I ran down the lovely Bristol hills in my lush cream boots, which discoloured to a rather not fashionable, murky grey. I have also now realised that the little kitten heels have been worn down to a dangerous stud-like point, which probably explains why I have had several near-death experiences whilst running down to tutorials/lectures/meetings/coffee dates.
I suppose it is an apt ending to a fantastic term. A term which has been jam-packed with (sigh where do I begin?) work, drama, parties, balls, formals, elections, mooting, articles, photos, plenty of drunken debauchery and most of all, some amazing new friends.
From sunshine in January to snow in March, its been topsy-turvy and a little bit crazy. But fantastically, fabulously, crazily fun :) But wait. This isn't meant to be a soppy little retrospect into a term gone by.
I digress.

Come again another day.
Really, why would you want rain to come again another day? It is a subtle allusion to procastination? So, that is why our generation of students have a pathological tendency towards procastination. It is because, when were young and ickle, procastination has been ingrained into our gullible brains. Right along with believing the moon was made of cheese, and all that ra, we believed that rain would go away and come again another day. As a result, we put off something, hoping that an opportunity to finish it /start it would come again another day. But it is in vain, as the opportunity of now does but rarely return. Why were we not told more constructive/worthwhile things rather than those rather retarded rhymes? Carpe Diem perhaps?
Time for me to digress yet again.

Right now, I want to play.
It's funny how the verb play, its context and its meaning, changes as we grow up. Until the age of 16, play purely involved dolls/board games etc. At the age of 16, earlier for some, later for others, the hormones kicked in. Play can be loosely attached to relationships, or lack thereof. I think a post of mine is incomplete without some sort of reference to facebook, so I will highlight the profile entry in facebook, where one can choose 'random play' as something you can be looking for in facebook.
So what of random play?
Firstly, what is random play? Is it, sleeping around? Pulling randomly? chatting up randomly? or just playful conversation? I think with random play, it is upto the individual to draw the boundaries. The extent you go with random play depends on each person's level of morals (!?), or even your nature. Some people are naturally flirtatious, so playing around is normal behaviour. Society being the cruel creature it is, usually attaches derogatory terms to such people, of which I will not explore further here and leave you to fill in the blanks.
The definition of play is thus loose (notice the pun).
Definitions aside, does play involve emotions? Or does it involve hormones? I think play involves just the right mix of both. Emotions and hormones combined together in a wonderful little duo. Perhaps hormones take a little more charge, as play is usually (not all the time) with someone you're not really emotionally attracted to. Physical attraction could even be there, sometimes it isn't. I think that women need to play more. It is usually the male sex that indulge in play, and hence results in the disproportionate number of broken hearts. See for example, take Peter and Jane, involved in random play. Jane becomes emotionally involved, whereas Peter manages to draw a clear distinction between emotions and hormones. Jane ends up with a broken heart.
Ladies, really, do we know where to limit the emotions? Why is it that we get emotionally involved so easily? I remember reading somewhere that during sex, women release a hormone which triggers a response in the brain that makes the mind believe that there is more emotion than there actually is. Perhaps this is something to do with our basic animal instinct to reproduce. Since sex is the act of creating life, the hormones induce these feelings.
So it really is in the mind. It is perhaps against our natural instincts to partake in random play. Our animal insincts are to mate and to continue the bloodline to ensure survival. I think focus should essentially be on the first part of the sentence. Tongue in cheek aside, let me quote the ultimate afrodisiac, Barry White, let the music play.
And it's still raining outside dammit.

Discovery Channel

2006-03-21T20:00:00.000Z

My room is such a ridiculous mess. I've got a nice chutney (trying to be poetic here!) of clothes/papers/folders/overdue library books/flyers/invitations/handbags/shoes/makeup.....yup pretty much all of that, strewn around my room. Sigh. Massive clean-up operation needed, but hey as you know, I'm the queen of procastination. So :)
Ah, Danielle and Sarah are going off to wine-tasting in the orangery, but me being the hardworking, committed law student have my intriguing constitutional rights tutorial to attend to. Or not.
I had an interesting idea for a blog today. Well, not really that interesting, but hey perhaps could evoke some form of interest to someone, anyone? No. Okay, in that case, it's just me rambling to no one in particular. Ah been there, done that, so I should be alright. Lol...now what was I saying?

Memory Gaps
Due to my rather eventful (!?) night on Friday at the ball, I spent the last few days reflecting on something, I know many of us have experienced at some point in their lives. Let me expand.
You wake up one morning, you stumble out of bed. The room spins. Bag, shoes are strewn all over the floor, your make-up is still on. What happened? The last you remember clearly is taking a taxi down to (insert appropriate bar/club/party here), having a drink with your mates. Was it one drink? two, three, four?
Oh dear.
You nurse your hangover, and when fully recovered, venture into the outside world. You bump into a friend. 'Mate, you were wrecked last night.' You get a text. 'Had an awesome night last night.'
Double oh dear.
Drunken escapades are intriguing. You don't actually experience them yourself do you. When you've got that much alcohol in your system, your brain goes crazy. It makes you do, say stupid things. Your guard is let down, and your true self is exposed. I'm a firm believer that when you're drunk, the truth comes out. Because when you're drunk, you don't have that social guard you defend yourself with. So when someone professes their undying love to you at the next party, they might actually mean it. Or not :). Lol I remember TJ professing his undying love to about 20 random girls at the Christmas Ball.
So when do you know, if what you're doing (or did) after a few glasses of wine, is what you really want to do? Is your conscience trying to tell you something? But then, what of beer goggles? Someone you would not normally find attractive suddenly becomes the hottest thing in a 15 mile radius. Is that your conscience telling you that you had an unknown fancy towards them? Or is it just the hormones talking? Probably the latter.
I'm sure there must be some sort of scientific explanation to this. But since I'm no scientist, I will not venture into unknown pastures.
I think that perhaps it is our emotions that become magnified. In some ways, when you're 'under the influence', your emotions are blown to a larger than life proportion. You're friendlier, more outgoing, more attractive, more everything. Even down to being more vulnerable. A friend of mine broke up with her boyfriend when very drunk. And looking back, there was really no neccessity. She still remembers being very angry. But her anger was somewhat disproportionate to the offence. So perhaps it then boils down to disproportionation. You feel disproportionately. Your brain is distorted so much that, you think you're feeling something your not. Methinks that somewhere along the synapses, signals get exchanged, or lost.

You and me baby, ain't nothing but mammals.
I digress. Is 'I was too drunk to remember' really a valid excuse. Assuming, that our behaviour when drunk is a magnification of our feelings when sober, then it is really a lame excuse. But then, having been-there-done-that, I beg to differ. A group of people who are very close friends of mine, engage in rather incestuous relations when under the influence. And really, I doubt it would have very much to do with emotions. So, is it all about the hormones?
If so, then we're really not very human aren't we. I remember the analogies drawn by Tennessee Williams, in A Streetcar Named Desire, when he portrayed Stanley and Blanche as animals in the rape scene. Wild animals, primates, is that who we really are? Essentially, we are stripped of culture, social know-how and etiquette when drunk aren't we? Hell, just last week I heard of how a well-reknowned barrister getting very very pissed at a formal occasion and making a complete fool of himself.
It feels horribly insecure when you strip yourself of what you regard as your self-dignity. But really it boils down to us just being warm-blooded mammals doesn't it? And just the other day I heard someone say 'Oh, I wasn't drinking so I didn't have as much fun.' Crikey, what of the world today? Our lives appear to be so alcohol-dependent to have a good time.
But no, don't lose faith. Our little flat outing on a sunny Sunday afternoon to Chew Lake renewed my faith at least. A good time doesn't need alcohol. Surely not. Don't get me wrong, I love my G&T, but hey surrounding yourself with people you care about, sharing laughter and memories is as strong a head rush as that bubbly from last night.
:)
Yup, so let's do it like they do on the discovery channel, quoting wisdom of the bloodhoung gang ofcourse.

My Law Family

2006-03-20T00:30:00.000Z

I have three sets of parents. My real parents ofcourse, and my two law families. My official law family are lovely. Mum is a sweetie, Dad is a sweetie too, but conversation with both are limited to general "How are you-ings" and "Hope things are ok-ings". My true law family are I think my ball committee 'lovelies' as I like to call them. We have spent the last term organising what I think has been the most succesful law ball in the history of the law social calendar. It was such an awesome, fabulous, (insert appropriate superlative of adjective) event, although much of it did pass in a drunken haze. It was good to the tee. Considering the hard work we put into it. The hours we spent running to and from the venue, traumatic visits to Ikea on a Sunday afternoon, cutting and ironing tablecloths after a few glasses of red wine, and ofcourse our very productive meetings at Starbucks. Sigh, am really gonna miss those! I think Anns summed it up the best way. We have become a family, because we have seen each other through a traumatic experience! Lol, well the stress leading up to the event was nothing short of traumatic. But everything turned out so well, that at the end of the day, it was all worth it. The people I met on the committee are all such fantastic individuals, and I'm so happy I have made some amazing friends. Oh yeah, and have acquired myself a new set of law parents. Lol. My new dad and I shared a rather interesting taxi experience. Both very very drunk and thought it wise and economically-viable to take a taxi instead of walking 2 minutes in the wee hours of the morning. Did I mention that we were drunk? Lol, and the funniest and most random was when he got out of the taxi, was gone for 30 secs (leaning out of the window) and popped back in, nodded me safely home and drove off into the night. Bless, a true gentleman! Altho the taxi driver probably didn't think so!
What a night. The place looked fabulous. Anns' creative foresight pulled off a fantastic ambience. The food was good, the music incredible, and the people looked gorgeous. The alcohol helped ofcourse, and drinking on the tab earlier was advised. As it did run out rather quickly, considering the drunken state of about three of the committee members (yours truly included) would so aptly reveal. Those very three members, left on a bus, and missed out on the post-party cleaning up. Getting home was a blur, and the last couple of hours at the ball itself was a blur indeed. Lol, probably a good thing, considering I have now been given officership of 'Drunken Hussy' on our 'Premiership-Standard Law Ball Committee 2006" group on facebook! Exemption clause: absolutely no liability for my behaviour on Friday!
:)

Procastination

2006-03-20T00:01:00.000Z

This is one of the most vivid examples of my inability to finish my tutorial reading on time. I know what is going to result from me signing up for a blog. I will end up with about two hours sleep. Wake up groggy to finish preparing for my tutorial, and lucky me, it's a constitutional rights tutorial on top of it all (*yawn*); my plan for finishing my errands before the tutorial are now out the window. I know I'm going to end up running to tutorial, almost breaking my neck by slipping on my terribly unpractical but gorgeous heels, make it to tutorial in time, out of breath and cursing myself and vowing to finish my work on time, go to bed earlier and not procastinate. But hey, we all know procastination is the crux of student life. So I'm just going to continue to procastinate.
Yes, I am new to blogging. No actually, that's a lie. I did have a blog, about two years ago. I might still have it, although I have forgotten what my username and password is, considering I probably made three postings and forgot about it. But that was back in the day when I had scarce internet connectivity. Now the wonders of LAN keep me connected all the time, and access to tools of procastination ie- Facebook, MSN, and now blogger.com, is quick and easy :)
So technically, I am new to blogging. I do read other people's blogs, especially of those back home in Sri Lanka. Young people, posting ramblings like I am doing right now. I apologise that this blog is of far more personal nature, and if you knew me, would understand, but if you didn't you'd just be like wtf is she going on about.
Yeah, wtf am I going on about? Oh well....